Mr Standfast: John Buchan nails a problem

I was much more interested in the exciting action and adventure than the philosophising when I first read John Buchan’s books; now it is the subtle elements that hold my attention. 

Something I read in Mr Standfast recently really hit home this time around: it is a soul-baring speech made by the character Launcelot Wake.

“'I see more than other people see,' he went on, 'and I feel more. That's the curse on me. You're a happy man and you get things done, because you only see one side of a case, one thing at a time. How would you like it if a thousand strings were always tugging at you, if you saw that every course meant the sacrifice of lovely and desirable things, or even the shattering of what you know to be unreplaceable? I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of, but I haven't the poet's gift, so I stagger about the world left-handed and game-legged... 

I'm not as good a man as you, Hannay, who have never thought out anything in your life. My time in the Labour battalion taught me something. I knew that with all my fine aspirations I wasn't as true a man as fellows whose talk was silly oaths and who didn't care a tinker's curse about their soul… I'd give all I have to be an ordinary cog in the wheel, instead of a confounded outsider who finds fault with the machinery...'”

“I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of, but I haven't the poet's gift...”

This goes right to the heart of the matter; it is the essence of the problem that some people have. 

Life is very difficult for anyone who is unfortunate enough to have the creative temperament without much in the way of creative abilities to go with it. Such people may feel stuck between two worlds, getting the worst of both and not fully belonging to either. 

Unable to function as well in everyday life as the ordinary people in the outer world do, unable to create anything or demonstrate any particular talent, gift or genius as the artists of various kinds who are in touch with other dimensions and the inner world do, they may feel inferior to the inhabitants of both worlds. 

Being able to demonstrate abilities far above normal in some areas may be compensation for and explanation of being obviously far below normal in others; having creative abilities may be some compensation for having to endure the torment of a creative temperament, while being able to function well in the ordinary world may be some compensation for being collective-minded and not having any special talents.

Considering that the highlighted words quoted above were spoken by someone who says he has no gift for poetry, it is ironic that, with the addition of a line or two, they could be part of a poem, perhaps something written by Rudyard Kipling! 

The Lament of Launcelot Wake 

I'm the kind of stuff poets are made of,

  But I haven't the poet's gift.

Between me and the world of the poets,

  There lies an unbridgeable rift!

Unseen Influences at Christmas

I don’t enjoy this time of year very much. Seasonal depression prevents much enjoyment and turns necessary tasks into impositions; painful memories and feelings surface and thoughts of what might have been become overwhelming.

People are stressed and I pick up a lot of the tension and unhappiness that are in the air.

Even though I am not a Christian, I hate the way that consumerism and secularism have taken over what should be a religious festival. 

Despite not being religious, I did go to a Christmas service once. It was at the suggestion of a neighbour. One fateful Christmas Eve many years ago, I went for the first time ever to a Midnight Mass. It was held in Westminster Cathedral, and I went just for the carols and the spectacle.

The outing was pure delight from beginning to end. I felt very well, euphoric even; I had the feeling that something wonderful was on the horizon; the weather was very mild; we saw some happy looking policemen driving around in a car that was covered in Christmas decorations.

I enjoyed the lights, the surroundings and the music inside the Cathedral very much. Just as midnight was striking, I wished very hard for a good cause to support and a new and exciting interest in my life for the coming New Year. 

The expression “Be very careful what you wish for as you may well end up getting it” is becoming a platitude but is very relevant here. A ‘chance’ meeting with a stranger on New Year’s Eve brought me exactly what I had wished for. For good or evil? I still don’t know. It led to some of the best and some of the worst moments of my life, including a Christmas that I still can’t bear to think about. 

Robin Jarvis’s witchmaster Nathaniel Crozier: Part I

Nathaniel Crozier is a key character in A Warlock in Whitby, the second volume of Robin Jarvis’s wonderful Whitby Witches trilogy. 

He is the husband of the witch who called herself Rowena Cooper, but was really Roselyn Crozier (called Roslyn Crosier in The Whitby Witches). He is not a witch exactly, but he is a black magician and he does control a group of witches. 

He is a person of interest because some of the things he and his followers say and do are very familiar.

An introduction to Nathaniel Crozier
Nathaniel Crozier casts a dark shadow ahead of him: he is briefly mentioned in The Whitby Witches, where he is introduced as Roselyn’s God-awful husband. They performed foul ceremonies together in Africa. They are described as a hellish pair who deserve to hang. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

The prose gets purple in A Warlock in Whitby:

“Nathaniel Crozier: historian, philanderer, warlock, high priest of the Black Sceptre and the unseen hand behind countless unsolved burglaries of religious relics from around the world…the most evil man on earth.”

There is nothing on this earth that he cannot make yield and bow before him.

How strange that such a man should wear worn and shabby clothes and be unable to enter a dwelling without an invitation! 

He seems to have very little to show for all his studies, efforts, powers and stolen magical artefacts. 

Person of interest: Madeleine L’Engle’s Zachary Grey

Zachary Grey is a character in several young-adult novels by Madeleine L’Engle. Confusingly, he becomes Zachary Gray in the later books.

Madeleine L’Engle is not one of my favourite authors and her books do not inspire me to produce a series of articles, but some aspects of the behaviour of her character Zachary Grey and the destructive effect it has on people around him are relevant to my ideas about energy vampires and unseen influences.

About Zachary Grey

Zachary Grey, often known as Zach, is a bit of a Bad Boy. He is very rich and throws money around. He is moody and troubled; he is wild, reckless, unpredictable and sometimes self-destructive; he likes to hurt and frighten people; his outlook on life is cynical, amoral, nihilistic, negative and pessimistic: he is always saying, “What’s the point?” and wondering whether there is anything worth living for in this lousy world. He sees nothing but doom and disaster ahead. 

There are times when he hates just about everyone: he drives them away then tries to cajole them into staying.

Zach has a weak heart; he knows that he could die at any time and uses this as a weapon to control people: if they don’t do just as he likes he might have a heart attack. He uses hysterical outbursts to manipulate his parents into giving him whatever he wants; they are under his thumb.

Zach has a death wish and courts danger; he habitually does things he knows he shouldn’t do. He is always getting kicked out of schools for smoking and cheating and not turning up for classes. He does this for kicks, because he is bored. He intends to study law just to learn how to get away with things and get the better of and outsmart the phonies who run this lousy world.

Zach believes that money is everything; he has nothing but withering scorn for religion: he thinks that all religious people are phonies; he thinks that people care only about number one and that the only way to get on in the world is to step on people. His goal in life is to have what he wants, do what he wants, go where he wants and get what he wants. 

Zachary Grey is a devil’s advocate.

A recent string of minor misfortunes

I had a bad day recently, the exact opposite of what I expected. 

I had planned a circular walkabout that would combine fresh air, exercise, errands, a treat and a visit to a park. 

Unfortunately, it was more of an endurance test than an enjoyable experience. It was just one thing after another, so I gave in and went home. 

Unfortunately, that was not the end of the misfortunes.

It all started when I went to get some money from the cash machine. When I pressed the button, all I got was my balance on the screen. I felt paranoid, as though I had been cut off from my money. After a few more tries, I realised that the menu text on the screen was misaligned with the buttons. I got my cash out and went on to the library, where I found that my library card wouldn’t go through any of the machines so had to ask the librarian to do everything manually.

I got some takeaway breakfast items. My plan was to eat them in a local public garden. I walked down a steep street and along the park railings. The gate I wanted to use was chained up: there was a lot of construction work going on. I had to walk all the way back to another gate, past all the vans and workmen.

Mayor and Llewelyn Davies connections: a tangled web

This article consists of material left over from my recent post about convenient deaths associated with the Austen, Mayor and Disraeli families. While doing the research for that post, I came across some information, leads and connections that I wanted to follow up. I decided to stick to the main subjects and leave the extra material and further research for another time.

Mary Sheepshanks and her connections

Flora M. Mayor was a lifelong friend of the social reformer Mary Sheepshanks. Mary Sheepshanks knew Flora’s fiancé Ernest Shepherd; Flora at one time believed that Ernest preferred Mary. Mary actually had feelings for someone else:

“In 1905 Mary Sheepshanks fell in love with Theodore Llewelyn Davies. However, he was in love with Meg Booth, the daughter of social investigator, Charles Booth. After she refused him, Davies committed suicide. “

Suicide is only suspected: he drowned while bathing alone in a pool in the River Lune. It is thought that he hit his head on a rock. He was 34 years old at the time.

Theodore Llewelyn Davies was uncle to the five Llewelyn Davies brothers, one of whom also drowned in a suspected suicide pact.

Disraelis and Mayors: more convenient deaths

I have written elsewhere about the convenient – and possibly suspicious - deaths of the men who were engaged to be married to Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra and J M Barrie’s sister Maggie.

In both cases, the bereaved young women remained available to their siblings as their main source of companionship, emotional support and admiration. In other words, both Jane Austen and J. M. Barrie benefitted from the deaths of the men who would have been their brothers-in-law.

I have found two more cases of interest, with similar elements.

Alice Mayor and F. M. Mayor

Flora Macdonald Mayor wrote novels and short stories under the name F. M. Mayor, mostly between 1913 and 1929. She had an identical twin sister, Alice. Just like Jane Austen, Flora had brothers but only the one sister.

Flora spent some time at university, where she did not do particularly well. She spent the next seven years looking for an occupation. She hoped to succeed as a professional actress, but that too did not turn out very well. The life was hard, the glamour faded, and she became tired of the lifestyle and the squalid lodgings.

People in such situations often dream of deliverance. Salvation came in the form of a young architect called Ernest Shepherd, who, just like Cassandra Austen’s fiancé, could not afford to get married immediately so hoped to make his fortune overseas. 

He was accepted for a well-paid job in India, and this enabled him to propose to Flora. He then left for India. Although she was not happy at the prospect of being separated from her family, Flora agreed to join him later in the year: they would then get married.  Unfortunately, he died of typhoid fever out there while she was still in England.

Alice MacDonald Mayor had not been in favour of the marriage. She was desolate at the thought of losing her twin to India. Just like the Austen sisters, the two Mayor girls lived closely together for their remaining years. Flora died at the age of 59; Alice lived on for another 29 years.