Barons, Baronets and Battlements

You know how you  talk about something and you use a word that someone else thinks has a different name?  I'm really thankful to the internet that I can look up these sorts of things.


My word (from Bill):  crenellated, adj.

1. Having battlements.

2. Indented; notched: a crenelated wall.

[Probably from French créneler, to furnish with battlements, from Old French crenel, crenelation, diminutive of cren, notch; see cranny.]

Picture of crenellation

Vivien's word:  castellated: adj.

1. Furnished with turrets and battlements in the style of a castle.

2. Having a castle.

[Medieval Latin castellatus, past participle of castellare, to fortify as a castle, from Latin castellum, fort; see castle.]

Picture of castellation

In other words, they are both words for 'battlements', which could be for decoration, but originally of course were for defense.  Interesting the term 'crenellation' refers to the fact that the indentations are called 'crenels'.  Trust Bill to come up with the word that describes the architectural detail, like quoin.

I had heard the term 'castellated' before and I'm really frustrated not to be able to find that library book again (I hope they haven't sold it!). It was about the history of houses in Britain, particularly castles, peles, manor houses and the like. A very serious book, but well written and fascinating. In it I learned that one had to have Royal permission to "castellate" one's home. I seem to remember that back in that day (1300s-1500s) one even had to display the certificate of permission, sort of brass plaque. 

I don't know if this was about the King being certain that a castle-builder wasn't taking arms against the Crown or if it was a means of raising revenue for the Crown through 'castellation application fees' or something or if it was just a means of raising the prestige of one's house by showing that one enjoyed Royal approval. I suspect it may have been a bit of all these things, as the practice changed from being about defense to being merely decoration. I've seen it in some unexpected places.

So, with that mystery solved, let's move on to the next.


In looking up all sorts about famous people from the interwar period I found myself getting tangled in the varying titles of their ancestors and descendents, particularly about Barons and Baronets.  I wondered what was the difference. 

Turns out that a Baron is the lowest level of noble title in the Peerage.  You know the term, peers, like as in 'equals'.  Only in this case it refers to people who are privileged to sit in the House of Lords - that kind of equal.  At least they could until the House of Lords Act of 1999 was passed which said that one couldn't be a member of the House of Lords just because of an inherited title... except for 92 of them.  I haven't got my head around the whole thing and I'm unlikely to.  Have a go at it yourself, if you like.  I gather heritary baronies are few and far between these days.  However one can be 'raised to the peerage' as a lifetime peer, and that's a different kettle of fish.  (See means of raising revenue, above; or I'm I being too cynical?).

That said, I was really more interested in the title 'Baronet', going back to our old friend Percy, High Commissioner of Egypt and buddy of Nancy Mitford.   In looking up that word, I found that I'm not being cynical at all - James I began creating hereditary baronetcies to raise funds.  I gather hereditary titles of any kind are increasingly rare these days, however - and you can impress all your friends with this tidbit - whilst a Baron is a member of the Peerage, a Baronet (sounds like a baby Baron, doesn't it?) is still a commoner. 

I'm certain that there are endless more details that you would love to know, but I've satisfied my curiosity for the moment.  I may never figure out how how they decided which 92 peers could stay in the House of Lords and what exactly is the purpose of the Standing Council of the Baronetage.  They say that the title has been documented as far back as Edward III, who may also have been the first involved in permissions to castellate.  Financially clever guy, wasn't he?  According to the movie, Braveheart, his dad was actually William Wallace. (Silly snippets like these help me remember the history...). 

Modern Mitfords

One of the more satisfying aspects of reading biographies instead of novels (though I do like them, too) is that the story sometimes continues after the book is finished.  Also, depending upon how accurately the biography is written and how famous the person, one can sometimes see how their life has fitted into and perhaps contributed to history, that is, what led to now.

Unity and Pamela

Sadly, four of the seven Mitfords - Pamela, Unity, Tom and Nancy - died without issue, as they say.  Nevertheless, it's not all just history, the Mitfords. One of the Mitford sisters, Diana - the fascist one - was first married to Bryan Guinness, of Irish brewery fame (and titles I can't be bothered to look up). One of her grand-daughters, titled socialite Daphne Guinness is regularly in the press here. Has anyone not heard of Lulu Guinness, the handbag designer? She's married to one of Diana's grandsons.
 

Deborah and Nancy

Diana's second marriage to Oswald Mosley (also titled) put her in the political spotlight, not to mention prison. If anyone were a fan of Formula One race car driving, they might be interested to know that Diana's son Max Mosley is a former president of the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile).  Charlotte Mosley, who edits many of the books compiled of Mitford family letters (which I'm in the process of collecting), is married to Diana's other son with Mosley, (Oswald) Alexander Mosley.  

Then there was Jessica Mitford, the communist sister who went to Spain during their civil war with a cousin whom she married (he'd given up his titles).  Strangely enough she eventually settled in America.  Turns out Jessica was more influential than I'd realised.  I'm going to have to read some of her work soon, given the really clever snippets I've found just recently.  In particular I need to put my hands on Hons and Rebels [Note: Hons is short for Honourable, an aristocratic title).  Even the study questions for this book make me curious about it.   J. K. Rowling [Do I need to tell you she wrote the Harry Potter series?] is quoted as saying that Jessica Mitford's writing was highly influential for her; so much so that Rowling named her own daughter Jessica.  Jessica Mitford's daughter, Constantine, is recognisably a Mitford; look at her photo and tell me the words spit and image don't come to mind.  

Deborah Mitford, the youngest child, married into the Cavendish family and when her husband's elder brother was killed in WWII, she became the Duchess of Devonshire, her husband being the 11th Duke of Devonshire.   Debo, now the Dowager Duchess, is still living and has worked with her niece-in-law, Charlotte Mosley, to identify the myriad of personalities of decades past whose names are dropped and sullied or shined in the scribbles of the sisters. 

Jessica and Diana

The Mitford looks are pretty much legendary.  They just don't seem to make ugly babies in that family.  Present day Mitfords include Jasmine Guiness and Tom Guinness, models.  Also a model, Stella Tennant (Deborah Cavendish's grand-daughter)  looks remarkably like her great-uncle, Stephen Tennant, a notable Bright Young Thing.  [I tried to add David Tennant to this family but, pretty as he is and in spite of the fact that he starred in Stephen Fry's movie Bright Young Things, he's actually a McDonald not a Tennant.  There is a David Pax Tennant, but that's another post...]

I wouldn't go so far as to say that the Mitford family changed history, other than perhaps in the revelations of Jessica Mitford's investigative journalism.  What I do believe is that these fascinating women keep alive the interest in the interwar period and the political changes that were happening in their day.  I think this is a good thing.  

In a recent interview, Charlotte Mosley said she found that most people who knew about the Mitfords tended to be over 50, but I don't believe that's true anymore.  Bill's daughter, Helen, and son-in-law Martin came for lunch today.  Helen is nowhere near 50 and she knew exactly who the Mitfords were.

NB:  These drawings were done by William Acton, brother of Harold Acton.  Lovely Lucinda, shows us how some of the Mitford 'girls' looked in 1985.   At 91, the Duchess of Devonshire was recently on the cover of the WI (Women's Institute Magazine) and she's still looking pretty good, I think.

Small Country

I wrote not long ago about the library selling many of its books at shockingly low prices.  It has since been revealed that the current Central Library, built in 1975, is no longer fit for purpose.  The lift (elevator) doesn't work and cannot be repaired and the heating system is unrealiable.  The building is almost entirely glass and will have cost a fortune to heat in any case. 

Lismore Castle

So, they were shrinking the inventory of books to be moved down to about 24,000 of which only about 8K will be on display.  I may be fairly grumpy over the coming months about this limited selection.  On the other hand, the library is moving back into the building I showed you here, labelled 'Free Library' and built in (ahem) 1857.  What does this say about modern construction?


The council have yet to decide how the current library site will be re-developed and, given their record for other similar decisions in North Tyneside, I expect we'll be using the 19th Century building for a good while. 

However, the library is not the topic for this post, rather that I've just started reading one of the books I bought there:  Love from Nancy:  the Letters of Nancy Mitford; (I paid 50 pence for it).  I'm finding it much more readable than the letters between her and Evelyn Waugh, which I bought from Amazon.  In both books, mind, the most interesting text is in the many footnotes which explain who was whom and what was what.  It's sort of like reading a book and working a jigsaw puzzle at the same time:  after a while the mosaic begins to form a recognizable picture and names in footnotes are greeted like familiar friends. 

Remember me mentioning the Loraine's of Kirkharle hamlet?  Well, Nancy was apparently buddies with the Loraine's.  They come up quite a bit as one of her other dear friends, Mark Ogilvie-Grant worked for Sir Percy when he was High Commissioner for Egypt, as an Honourary Attache.  The footnotes are amazing sources of biographical detail, listing dates of marriage, divorce, etc. amongst the aristocratic and literary friends of Nancy's circle.  Read here for a review with many of her lovely witticisms included. 

In reading on the internet about books by Charlotte Mosley (daughter-in-law of Diana Mitford Guiness Mosley) I tumbled onto a reminder that after the youngest of the Mitford sisters, Deborah, married the 11th Duke of Devonshire she inhabited not only the family seat at Chatsworth, but that the Cavendish family also owned Lismore Castle in Ireland.  I've written about this previously, in talking about Fred Astaire, whose sister Adele occupied Lismore Castle upon her marriage into the Cavendish family. 


I keep being surprised by these little circles of coincidence but Bill would remind me, I'm sure, that 'They' are all related in one way or another' and that with the finite number of castles, palaces and the like (large as that number is), there are bound to be duplicate owners...sort of like finding friends with the same birthdate.

What has all of this got to do with me, you might ask? Absolutely nothing.  I just find it all fascinating.  Reading about the Mitfords et al is what I do instead of housework watching TV just about anything else.  It's just about my definition of retirement, OK?

A Letter from Uncle Lewis

Here is the text of a letter from Lewis Carroll to Sydney Bowles.  There is a sketch of a cat in the upper left corner (what else?).  The letter was written from 'Ch.Ch. Oxford', (or Christchurch College) dated May 22, 1891.

My dear Sydney,

       I am so sorry, and so ashamed!  Do you know, I didn't even know of your existence?  And it was such a surprise to hear that you had sent me your love!  I felt just as if Nobody had suddenly run into the room, & had given me a kiss!  (That's a thing that happens to me, most days, just now.)  If only I had known you were existing, I would have sent you heaps of love, long ago.  And, now I come to think about it, I ought to have sent you the love, without being so particular about whether you existed or not.  In some ways, you know, people, that don't exist, are much nicer than people that do.  For instance, people that don't exist are never cross:  and they never contradict you:  and they never tread on your toes!  Oh, they're ever so much nicer than people that do exist!  However, never mind:  you can't help existing, you know; and I daresay you're just as nice as if you didn't.

       Which of my books shall I give you, now that I know you're a real child?  Would you like 'Alice in Wonderland'?  Or 'Alice Under Ground'?  (That's the book just as I first wrote it, with my own pictures).

     Please give my love, and a kiss, to Weenie and Vera, & yourself (don't forget the kiss to yourself, please:  on the forehead is the best place.)

Your affectionate friend,

Lewis Carroll!

That's just about how you would expect him to write, isn't it?  This is from a library book, The Mitford Family Album.   Carroll, in real life a mathematics don at Christchurch College named Charles Dodgson, was a friend of her father.  Sydney Bowles married devastatingly handsome David Mitford, and the rest is history...

The Viceroy's Daughters

This is one of the books on my list for inter-war reading.  The subtitle is 'The Lives of the Curzon Sisters'; I think it should be 'How to be Miserable and/or Spectacularly Stupid'.

 For example:

-Have towering ambition

-Be a complete control freak

-Be so arrogant and controlling that no one can stand you

-Make people dislike you so much they make a point of halting your advancement

-Marry for money, discover it's been left elsewhere and you're dependent after all

-Live far beyond your personal means

-Reject your children once you can no longer control them or their money

-Use lawyers to fight with your children about their money

-Love and marry someone who is serially unfaithful as a chosen way of life

-Be rich and beautiful, marry someone poor, then get bored with them

-Be rich and beautiful, marry someone lacking intellect or wit, then get bored with them

-Party continuously, getting lewder, drunker and more ridiculous so as not to be bored

-Be a woman with a 'strong personality' in an era when men only want women who defer

-Marry a woman with money so she can be at once bossy, possessive and dismissive

-Have all the money one could possibly want and spend it foolishly and with abandon

-Make your hobby the expensive refurbishment of large historical estates which you only rent and don't even own

-Hang out with the Prince of Wales, notorious for unexpectedly dropping his closest friends
-Be hopefully dependent on notoriously fickle friends

-Hang out with rich people who have never worked and only know how to party

-Be fabulously wealthy and still manage to blow it all and end of broke and in debt

-Make a married man with no intention of divorce your heart's only desire

-Let your married man keep you on a string so he can reel you back when he wishes
-Refuse all likely husbands, pining for your married man
-Regret the lack of husband and children ever after

-Become a politician in troubled times

-Become a politician and switch sides - twice

-Have an unquenchable desire for personal power

All that, and I'm only half way through!  It's a great book for encouraging frugality and a simple life, let me tell you!  Though it's all fascinating stuff, there's not a person I've read about so far with whom I'd trade places.

Turns out the Curzon women are linked to the Mitford women (also on that reading list) via Oswald "Tom" Mosley (wife one Cynthia Curzon; wife two Diana Mitford Guinness).  This is not a man I would wish to have within 100 miles of me; he was once voted by BBC History Magazine as the 20th century's worst Briton. The astonishing thing is that this is not a novel or a soap opera, but a biographical work with credible sources, mainly the diary of Irene, the eldest daughter who appears on the cover.  The most admirable characters, so far, all die pretty young.

However, much as I hate soaps, the houses, the clothes and the history in this book are fabulous!