Tory Historian finds it extraordinary that those in the culture industry (and it has become an industry though not all of it creates anything) should have such a sneering attitude to the businessmen and women who have made the money that made much of our cultural heritage possible. According to many of them the proper person to subsidize their activities is the taxpayer whose opinion is never asked and who contributes the money involuntarily. The alternative, they so often pronounce, money contributed voluntarily by the person who made or earned it, makes that lucre somehow tainted.

One has to admit that with government cuts, though they do not go far enough in TH's opinion, this attitude is changing. Even the BBC, usually the leading apostle of the ideology of sneering at people who actually make money, has put up a fascinating article about Sir William Burrell,

celebrated as an art lover and philanthropist. He left a wealth of objects to the people of Scotland in the magnificent Burrell Collection.
The reason who could collect and then leave that wealth of objects was because he had been a highly successful shipping merchant.
"It was often said he was ruthless, but that's not the right word," says maritime historian Martin Bellamy, Head of Research at Glasgow Museums. "He was an innovative business operator with an inspired commercial mind.

"He was a typical Victorian entrepreneur. He exploited the world of opportunities that the British Empire created.

"Burrell took over a modestly successful family business and expanded it enormously."

Burrell's secret was his ground-breaking operation of a type of trade called 'tramp shipping'.

Unlike liners which followed a set route of destinations, tramp ships did not have scheduled deliveries. They sailed to whatever port their cargo took them.

While a ship was unloading, the captain would make arrangements to find the next job. This led to delays and meant ships often sailed only part full. But Burrell had a solution.

"He travelled the world and set up a network of agents," says Bellamy. "They would do the work of the captains and secure the next cargo before his ships arrived.
The rest of this fascinating article tells of the business Sir William built up and of the art collection he amassed. One cannot help wondering at the naiveté of the people who work in the BBC who seem to be astonished and feel the need to repeat several times that Burrell's activities as an art collector and philanthropist would not have been possible without his activities as a ruthless and imaginative businessman.

BBC2 will be showing a programme on this great man this evening at 9 but only in Scotland. However, it will be available across the UK for seven days on iPlayer.

History Today blog informs us that the two winners of the 2012 Wolfson History Prize are Christopher Duggan for Fascist Voices: An Intimate History of Mussolini’s Italy and Susan Brigden for Thomas Wyatt: The Heart’s Forest. Both sound very interesting and are hereby added to the notional pile of books to be read.




Self-explanatory, I think.


The Folio Society Gallery in the British Library is an odd bit of space between the main staircase and the coffee bar. At present and for another week it is occupied by a slightly eccentric but delightful exhibition, called Murder in the Library: An A- Z of Crime Fiction. Tory Historian visited it a couple of times and took copious notes.

The biggest criticism is that too many of the exhibits are modern and unexciting paperbacks even though the British Library must have original copies of first editions of all crime books, which are of greater interest.

The entrance to the exhibition (just above the escalator) has a quotation from Monsignor Knox and his famous Decalogue, which laid down all the rules that good detective writers (especially Agatha Christie) proceeded to break.

The rest of this long posting is on the secondary blog (for long postings)

A real-life paper copy of the West Midlands History Magazine that analyzes Enlightenment, its people and organizations in that part of the country. The article on Industrial Enlightenment is fascinating. More goodies to read.

Also a gem of a book: The Odd Thing About the Colonel, a collection of articles and essays by one of the greatest of conservative journalists of the twentieth century, Colin Welch, sent to me, very kindly by his daughter, Frances Welch, herself a formidable historian.

Last year Tory Historian wrote an angry and scathing posting about the mess that Tate Britain (the Tate to many of us, harrumph) had become. Well, there was some good news in the Evening Standard today. According to the Director, Penelope Curtis,

A complete rehang of the collection at Millbank will give visitors a chronological history of British art, says director Penelope Curtis — and throw up some exciting juxtapositions.
One worries a little (well, TH does) about those "exciting juxtapositions" but displaying the British art collection and in a chronological order (just like they used to do in the dear old days gone by) sounds like an excellent idea. On the other hand, it does not sound like a particularly radical one. Is that not what Tate Britain is for?

Tory Historian was reading some of the essays in H. R. F. Keating's splendid collection, Agatha Christie - First Lady of Crime and found a highly entertaining one by Emma Lathen (really two formidable ladies, Mary Jane Latsis and Martha Hennisart). Entitled Cornwallis's Revenge, it analyzes Christie's technique and her extraordinary popularity, especially in the United States. In fact, posits Ms Lathen, it is the return battle of the War of Independence and it has made the outcome somewhat doubtful.

In 1781 Lord Cornwallis surrendered to George Washington at Yorktown and, for all practical purposes, the Revolutionary War was over. The viscount went on to a distinguished career in India, the rebels became preoccupied with the problems of forging a new political state, and the world assumed that British domination over the colonies was at an end. There the matter rested until 1920 which saw the publication of the first American edition of The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Now, fifty-six years later, any detached observer on these shores would have to admit that the second British Expeditionary Force had been considerably more successful than the first. 
Heh! That would be the force led by General Hercule Poirot, ably assisted by Brigadier Jane Marple and Lieutenant-Colonels Battle and Race. I think we might forget about the Beresfords for the time being.

Calling all those interested in history in the West Midlands (the historic counties of Shropshire, Staffordshire, Derbyshire, Warwickshire and Worcestershire) and those who might think of visiting: there is a new site, called History West Midlands. It is an independent site (not attached to any academic institution, I assume) and gives a full list of events that could be of interest to anyone interested in the history of that area. In addition, the first issue issue of History West Midlands Magazine, that deals with the fascinating topic the West Midlands Enlightenment is now available to download or to order. Good reading.

This article came my way for reasons that are a little hard to explain. It goes into some detail about peer reviews of different kind in scientific journals. To be honest, most of the argument is a little beyond me and if there are any scientists among this blog's readers they might like to enlighten the rest of us.

However, the article did turn my attention to a rather peculiar development among some journals and, especially, publishers who are insisting on what they call "peer review" in arts and social sciences. This, I maintain, is not just completely unnecessary but is actually harmful.

When I was still editing the printed version of the Conservative History Journal I was asked once or twice whether the articles were peer-reviewed. Until then it had not occurred to me that history articles could be. Factual inaccuracy, if not caught by the editor, is usually pointed out by some alert reader while interpretations one can argue about but they do not come under the rubric of peer review. That would imply that certain interpretations ought not to be published as they are somehow outside the peer consensus. That, as far as I can make out, is exactly what is happening with some publishers. At least one person I know has had trouble after the publisher had accepted her book with peer reviews because her writing was "outside the academic consensus" according to one reviewer. The publisher seems to be in a dither.

My reply was that CHJ is not peer reviewed and nor is it. Mistakes can be picked up and interpretations should be varied. I recall going through an article about Margaret Thatcher's premiership that was really rather hostile to her policies and achievements. I disagreed with every word but corrected only the grammar and punctuation as necessary. Maybe I tightened the text up a little but left all the arguments I considered wrong-headed in place. That, in my opinion, is what an editor does. Running off to a bunch of peer reviewers is not the answer.

Having thought about the subject I realized that a couple more points need to be made. One is that peer review looks at methodology. Any editor of a history journal or of a history book should be able to see whether the methodology makes sense and whether too many relevant facts and developments had been left out. I presume that is not so with science publications as no editor or a journal could understand the methodology of all branches of research. Therefore, peer review makes some sense.

On the other hand, as we have seen with the scandal that surrounds a good deal of the so-called "climate change science" and, specifically, with the e-mail controversy (or scandal) to do with the Climatic Research Unit at the University of East Anglia, in any controversial subject peer review can be and is used to prevent a break in the consensus.

I am hoping there will be comments on this piece as I would like to start a discussion. It is important for the future of history writing whether we accept the need for peer reviewing or not.

No, this is not to Margaret Thatcher but by her to Ian Gow, who was assassinated by the IRA (well, murdered is as good a word but I prefer assassinated) on July 30, 1990. Mrs Thatcher's tribute was published in The House Magazine in October, 1990, not long before her resignation. Here it is reprinted on PoliticsHome.

The intention is to write a long piece about the first volume of Charles Moore's authorized biography of Margaret Thatcher, Not for Turning, and I have started reading it. Unusually, the Preface is fascinating as it describes how the whole project came about and Lady Thatcher's own attitude and behaviour. Much of it Mr Moore told us at the launch, which was held, rather grandly in the Banqueting House in Whitehall, beneath the Rubens ceiling with the speakers standing by the window through which Charles I had stepped out to the scaffold. (But I digress.)

It is, however, fascinating to read how little interest Lady Thatcher had in self-analysis or in examination of her past life. In this she was the exact opposite of Sir Winston Churchill: for her the deed was the only thing that mattered, not its description (accurately or otherwise) afterwards.

Like all remarkable leaders, she had a great egotism. She always believed that she, and she alone, rescued Britain from its post-1945 years of semi-socialist decline. She believed that the "-ism" which derived from her married name would make a permanent different to the history of human freedom.But she was not at all touchy, or even anxious, about what history might say about her. 
A remarkable case of self-confidence. How many other leading politicians could show anything similar?

History Today has a wonderful timeline of English and British monarchs. You click on one of them and get a brief summary (with a couple of dates) and their immediate predecessors and successors. You can then click on the name and get a list of articles on the monarch in question that is in the magazine's online archives. Then you have to subscribe to get to the archives but even without that subscription one can have a great deal of fun.

Today, as every school child ought to know, is St George's Day, something that, according to Ed West, became a matter for celebration in the 1990s and then for purely commercial reasons. True, to some extent, but a little unfair. The Scouts, for instance, always celebrated the day. St George remains the Patron Saint of several countries and organizations - in fact, he is a very busy sort of saint.

Many Patronages of Saint George exist around the world, including: Georgia, England, Egypt, Bulgaria, Aragon, Catalonia, Romania, Ethiopia, Greece, India, Iraq, Israel, Lithuania, Portugal, Serbia, Ukraine and Russia, as well as the cities of Genoa, Amersfoort, Beirut, Botoşani, Drobeta Turnu-Severin, Timişoara, Fakiha, Bteghrine, Cáceres, Ferrara, Freiburg im Breisgau, Kragujevac, Kumanovo, Lebanon, Ljubljana, Pérouges, Pomorie, Preston, Qormi, Rio de Janeiro, Lod, Lviv, Barcelona, Moscow and Victoria, as well as of the Scout Movement[3] and a wide range of professions, organizations and disease sufferers.
April 23 is also the birth- and death- day of William Shakespeare. Actually, nobody is too sure on which day he was born but he was baptized on the 26th so it is fair to assume that he was born shortly before that. The parallel of his birth and death has always pleased people.

April 23 also happens to be the day W. J. M. Turner claimed as his birthday but there is no real evidence for that. He was baptized on May 14 and that is all we know definitely. Still, it would be pleasant to think that the greatest English playwright and one of the greatest English artists were both born on St George's Day.

An even more interesting anniversary is a round one. We are celebrating the 90th anniversary of the real founding of the 1922 Committee, a little emasculated recently, but still something of a fighting force in the Conservative Party. As Lord Norton of Louth explains here:
The 1922 Committee derives its name from the fact that it was formed by some MPs who were first elected in 1922. Led by the MP for Lowestoft, Sir Gervais Rentoul, they decided to create a body ‘for the purpose of mutual co-operation and assistance in dealing with political and parliamentary questions, and in order to enable new Members to take a more active interest and part in Parliamentary life’. As new MPs, they had little knowledge of Parliament. There was no party structure, other than the whips, within the House to assist. The new Tory Members showed feelings, in Rentoul’s words, of ‘ineffectiveness and bewilderment’.

A preliminary meeting was held on 18 April 1923, at which Rentoul explained the purpose of having a Committee, and the Members then adjourned until 23 April. At this second meeting, the principles on which the body was founded were agreed and the meeting elected officers and an Executive Committee. Rentoul was elected chairman. It was also agreed to meet each week – on Mondays at 6.00 p.m. – when the House was sitting. The first of the scheduled meetings was addressed by the Chief Whip, Leslie Wilson, who offered his assistance and that of his colleagues. The Committee also set up a series of Sub-Committees, though these were superseded in the next Parliament by formal backbench Committees set up by the Party Leader.
Many things to celebrate, then. You will forgive me, however, for putting up the most obvious sequence for this day.

An interesting article by Richard Overy and an equally interesting discussion in History Today about the use of the word Nazi, not even nowadays to describe anything and everything some people of the left persuasion happen to disagree with but in the period the party was in power: 1933 - 1945. Well worth reading.

Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of Benjamin Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield. It was also and for the same reason Primrose Day, created by the Conservative Party to honour one of their greatest and certainly most influential leader.

Lord Lexden, the eminent historian of the Primrose League, has an excellent article on ConHome, in which he draws on his knowledge of the first great popular political organization to suggest that something along those lines could be done to honour Margaret Thatcher.

While Lady Thatcher was the first and so far only woman to lead the party, Disraeli was the first and so far only Jew. But in both cases, initial status as an outsider did not prevent - indeed may well have encouraged - the securing of a deep place in Tory affections.

And Disraeli's case shows that if only someone can hit on a happy form of commemoration, it ought to be possible to do something genuinely popular, which would make up for some of the present weaknesses in Conservative organisation and the dramatic fall in party membership. A party that cannot call on large numbers of committed activists labours under a severe handicap. Perhaps some genius among the readers of ConservativeHome can even think of a project that will bring UKIP activists flocking back to the Tory colours.
It would be hard to repeat the success of the Primrose League for many reasons. Still, Lord Lexden argues his case persuasively.
Those who try to depict Margaret Thatcher as a great radical leader uninterested in the historic Conservative heritage often claim that she repudiated the one nation tradition. But in reality she drew heavily upon it. Her patriotism, for example, cannot be understood without reference to it. Tories (sadly) no longer hold a great festival on 19 April, but the values it expressed live on vigorously. We should start thinking what we shall do on 8 April 2014, the first anniversary of Lady Thatcher’s death.
This blog will be ready to assist should these ideas be taken seriously by the party.

While on the subject of Dizzy, I have been wondering why he had not been given a state funeral. After all, his great rival, Gladstone was as was, surprisingly enough, Lord Palmerston. I am sure Queen Victoria would have loved to attend a state funeral for her beloved Dizzy.

Apparently this was proposed but Lord Beaconsfield turned it down in his will. Here is a list of people who have had a state funeral. Only four Prime Ministers, one of whom, the Duke of Wellington, was given what, by all accounts, was a shambolic state funeral for his achievements as a military commander.

You can't read the whole article on the net (unless you subscribe) but I thought I'd boast of my article in History Today about the early Russian embassies to London.



Tory Historian was delighted not only with the choice of music for Lady Thatcher's funeral (her choice) but the fact that the two readings were from the Authorized Version of the Bible. What a pleasure to hear those sonorous words again. It is one of the finest pieces of English writing and, as Adam Nicolson points out in his excellent history of how King James Bible was created, it was written to be read out. Sound was everything. The words, pregnant with many meanings, also had to be sonorous.

It so happens that TH is also reading one of E. C. R. Lorac's post-war detective novels, Policemen in the Precinct, the precinct being that of a cathedral, or, to be quite precise a Norman abbey in Paulborough in the Midlands. It starts with discussions of a death. The woman most feared and hated in the precinct because of the way she spread nasty rumours has been found dead of a heart attack (but we know better, do we not?).

Mrs Lilian Mayden is not exactly mourned by anyone but many turn up for her very fine funeral in the abbey, including the one woman who feels sorry for her and who has known her since schooldays, Mrs Alison Bentham. She even finds herself shedding tears but knows that it is the ceremony that invokes the emotions.
As a ceremony it was as near perfection as humanity can attain: every movement, every cadence, every phrase was right with the rightness only attainable by age-old tradition and expert direction.
How else can one describe the funeral on Wednesday at St Paul's Cathedral?




The news in yesterday's Evening Standard that among those invited to Lady Thatcher's funeral are her old "friends and colleagues" the Lords Howe and Heseltine (what glorious revenge to make them listen to all those eulogies) reminded me of the time I took over the editing of the Conservative History Journal.

The issue came out in summer 2004 and naturally enough we had to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the 1979 Conservative victory that was to become momentous in the history of the country and the Conservative Party. I decided to ask some of Margaret Thatcher's colleagues to write short pieces about her. For reasons I can no longer recall, only two were approached, the Lords Tebbit and Howe. Both agreed with alacrity and sent me their pieces (in hard copy, being true Tories).

The time has come to republish them. This is what Lord Tebbit wrote:

Margaret Thatcher took office as Prime Minister of a country possessed by both hope and fear. The Heath government had been defeated following its failure to defeat a miners’ strike in 1974. The Callaghan government fell in 1979 , following the “winter of discontent” during the strike of local government workers. Many voters hoped she would go the same way. Rather more hoped she would not - but many even of these feared that she might.

Foreign embassies were reporting to their governments that Britain had become ungovernable. Multi-national companies had all but ceased to invest as the English Disease, a lemming-like propensity to strike, savaged businesses. The vast stateowned sector of industry gorged itself on taxpayers’ money with no prospects of profitability.

Inflation was endemic and conventional wisdom held that it could be restrained only by a state sponsored “prices and incomes policy”, that is either voluntary or state control of prices and incomes.

During Margaret Thatcher’s term British industrial relations changed from the worst in the developed free world to the best.

She went on to win two further elections, defeated the unions’ “nuclear option” of a miners’ strike, and was brought down not by an ungovernable nation - but an ungovernable cabinet.

In the meantime inflation had been controlled by monetarism - not incomes policy - and foreign investment had poured into Britain. The financial haemorrhage of the nationalised industries had been stanched. After privatisation they became profitable corporation taxpayers.

Living standards soared, millions of the “working classes” had become homeowners and shareholders and Britain’s occupational pension schemes were the envy of Europe.

In passing Margaret Thatcher defeated Argentina, bringing down the junta and by a military operation pursued with purpose, skill and daring, established that Britain still had the will and power to defend unilaterally its people and its interest.

She left a great deal still undone, having had neither time - nor enough competent Ministers with courage to resolve other issues. Neither education, the Health Service, nor the welfare system were properly reformed. Local government finance reform was botched by Christopher Patten. Reform of the European Community was sabotaged by Geoffrey Howe. Nor did Thatcherism cure the sickness of the permissive society, which has - as some forecast - become the yob society of the 21st century.

Abroad Margaret Thatcher stiffened the resolve of President Reagan to defeat the challenge of the Soviet Union and bring a decisive victory in the Cold War. Thatcherism” was widely adopted throughout the world.

So much achieved - so much more to be done.

Who can argue that it was a fine piece in Tebbit's inimitable style? The same could be said for the piece sent to me by Lord Howe, which had been typed on a typewriter with the paper clearly torn out of the carriage with fury. There was a corner missing. Perhaps, he had been chewing it.

This is what the article said:

No government, in my judgement, did more in the last quarter of the twentieth century to change the shape of our world. Some mistakes, of course - but overall it was fundamental and enduring change for the better.

Margaret Thatcher’s most important domestic achievement was the dismantling of the unspoken, but crippling, compact between state ownership and monopoly trade unionism. Almost as crucial was the recovery of control over the public finances and the key switch of Britain’s tax structure away from on which positively obstructed enterprise.

The real triumph was to have transformed not just one party but two - so that when Labour did finally return, these changes were accepted as irreversible. The irony is that Thatcherism might never have survived at all, had it not been for John Major’s success in consolidating it.

The one sadness is that Michael Heseltine might have done better still, by securing as well the European role for Britain, which Ted Heath had made possible.

As editor, I was overjoyed to have these two pieces, so clearly in furious disagreement with each other. (We editors are a heartless race.) Readers were pleased. Not so Lord Howe, who wrote to me soon after the journal's publication. He thought I ought to have warned him that his contribution was going to go in next to Norman Tebbit's.

We interrupt the non-stop broadcast of matters to do with the late great Prime Minister to bring news of a stunning archaeological find in the City of London. As the BBC put it yesterday, entire streets of Roman London are being uncovered. The preservation of the many objects and parts of buildings has led to people referring to this as the "Pompeii of the north" and it is assumed that our knowledge and understanding of Roman London will be transformed.

One of the most important finds, as today's article in the Evening Standard explains, is a batch of about 100 wax tablets "which are written records and which experts hope will reveal the names of Roman Londoners and the streets they lived on". A directory of Roman London. What could be more exciting?

Interestingly, the site was supposed to have been thoroughly excavated in the fifties when the Temple of Mithras was found. It seems not.

The Roman temple of Mithras — dating from the 3rd century AD — was discovered in 1954 and experts from the Museum of London Archaeology believed that the surviving parts of the temple had already been fully excavated and dismantled, and that no other remains would have survived the extensive building work of the Fifties and Sixties.

However, they were astonished to discover even more of the temple, including walls to the vestry and other finds which will help to put it into context.

“All the 50 archaeologists who are working on site at the moment know they are unlikely to see one like it again,” said project manager Sophie Jackson. “Why the site is so incredibly important is the quality of the preservation of the archaeological finds that are normally lost or decayed on other sites.”

Finds include the second Roman door to be discovered in the capital, a complete amber gladiator amulet, the largest ever collection of good luck charms in the shape of phalluses and fists, and a giant decorated piece of leather that is believed to be part of an item of soft furnishing, and which is without parallel in the known Roman world.
The remains of the temple will now be moved back to where they were found in the first place and the new discoveries properly exhibited. Eventually. Oh yes, and Bloomberg will have their new headquarters.

Although Lady Thatcher has been out of action for some years and has not even made any public appearances for the last couple of them, her presence was something many of us took almost for granted and found reassuring. Her death has temporarily united the Conservative party in grief and admiration and somewhere behind that unity are the thoughts that her political "defenestration" in 1990 left a wound that the party has not yet healed. It is a bigger wound than the Maastricht debates and quarrels of the Major years. Will the lady's death finally heal that wound?

The news is that Margaret Thatcher has died peacefully at the age of 87. There will be much more to write on this blog and other outlets but, in the meantime, here are two news stories: the BBC and the Daily Mail.

The day President Reagan broke Tecumseh's curse.

 

Word comes of an entirely praiseworthy series of events in April (which is almost upon us though you would never believe it from the weather): a celebration of the Huguenots in Spitalfields. There will be talks, walks, seminars and exhibitions. It all promises to be most interesting. There will also be blogs on some of the events.

A friend who is a true Conservative reminded me that this appeared very recently in the Daily Mail (can't find the link):

Newly released documents show that in 1981, Bruce Forsyth asked Margaret Thatcher to do the same [as Hugh Grant was asking.] She replied: ‘I share your feelings about the need to maintain standards... but equally it is of crucial importance to keep the press in this country free from government interference. I do not think it is possible to draft a law to deal with these matters. The real sanction, of course, is not to buy the offending paper or magazine.’
That ought to be the true Conservative position.

On March 26, 1484 the first English version of Aesop's Fables was published by William Caxton who was using his own translation from French. It was one of the first secular books printed in England. It is not a round anniversary but, somehow, it seems appropriate to recall the early stages of publishing. Should one note that England was ruled by Richard III at that time?

All of these are by good friends of mine so an interest is hereby declared.

First off is a book that should appeal to all students of the Conservative Party and its members, which its author, Nigel Meek, describes as a geek's delight. It is called Conservative Party Politicians at the Turn of the 20th/21st Centuries and deals with their attitudes, behaviour and background. It is full of data, facts, figures and numbers crunched and uncrunched.

Dr Meek has also pointed out that "serious quantitative researchers might also be interested in the original dataset’s dedicated page at the Centre for Comparative European Survey Data’s website  as well as its listing on the Economic and Social Data Service’s website". Not my best friend could call me a serious quantitative researcher but I am sure there are some among the blog's readers. I do find the conclusions of some interest as they explain things that might otherwise seem peculiar to those of us who have been watching the shenanigans in that party.

A less serious but equally informative book is by Cedric Pulford, a journalist of many years standing and very wide experience (wider than most hacks') whose views on the Leveson Report and subsequent legislation are not fit for this blog, as it tries to be family friendly. The book is the story of his life in journalism, entitled Journalism My Way and could not be a more entertaining read.

I opened it at random to find a suitable quote and what do I see on page 170? "The partition of Cyprus could not have been more bad-tempered." Ha! We ain't seen nothing yet.

Finally, very unusually for me, a novel: L: a novel history by Jillian Becker who has had an extraordinary career as a writer and a fighter against terrorism before that became fashionable. I still cannot think of a better book on the Baader-Meinhof gang than her Hitler's Children.

This is a novel that shows an alternative history of Britain, one in which Thatcher lost and the Labour radicals won. (Fantasy, I know, but the ideas are of interest.) Jillian has been kind enough to say that our many discussions, often well  into the night, in true political fashion, about revolutions in Europe have helped to crystallize many of her thoughts. That is enough, surely for people to read this newly reprinted paperback.



Whenever one reads hyperventilating attacks on present-day politicians and their lack of fiscal probity as compared to past ones,  one can be certain they come from people who have no knowledge of history. Let  us set aside the particularly notorious cases such as Charles James Fox or David Lloyd George. Let us look at a man who is known for being less than honest in politics but not particularly dishonest in financial matters: Winston S. Churchill.

I have just finished reading Douglas Murray's excellent biography of Lord Alfred Douglas, Bosie (here is an excellent review of it by Miranda Seymour) and Churchill makes several appearances in it.



Oscar Wilde's Hyacinthus and "golden boy" outlived him by forty-five years and had a fascinating if chequered life, clouded by what seems to be hereditary mental problems and, of course, the famous case. Douglas Murray makes an excellent case for Bosie's poetical talent (I, for one, am going to find a collection and read it), for his initial loyalty to Wilde and for the unfairness of De Profundis, which has influenced so many writers in their analysis of the relationship. Wilde, himself, resumed his life with Bosie as soon as he came out of prison. Murray even manages to make sense of the complicated relationship between Bosie and Robbie Ross, usually the hero of the Wilde story (but then, he wrote much of it).

The book details Lord Alfred's "litigious and libellous" career that lasted from 1909 to 1924, the last of these being the case brought against him by Winston Churchill.



In 1921 Douglas

claimed that Winston Churchill was guilty of war profiteering and that while First Lord of the Admiralty he had, with the help of high profile Jews, conspired to murder Lord Kitchener. They had allegedly succeeded in 1916 when Kitchener was on board the Hampshire. The ship had been sailing for Russia where, according to Douglas, Kitchener would have replaced the 'Bolshevik Jews', who were then setting  up the revolution that would come in the following y ear, with 'loyal men of British birth', thus 'nipping the Russian revolution in the bud'.
Churchill at first ignored this farrago of nonsense, arguing, quite sensibly, that few people read it and by suing he would give unnecessary publicity to a little-known periodical. But in 1923 Douglas went further and publicly accused Churchill  of war profiteering by publishing a false report of the Battle of Jutland in order to help some financiers (no doubt of Jewish origin, Bosie having become a virulent anti-Semite) to make money on the New York Stock Exchange and getting paid for this by Sir Ernest Cassel, a well  known financier and philanthropist who had, as a matter of fact, converted to Catholicism just as Lord Alfred had done. Churchill's alleged reward was furniture that was worth £40,000.

Furthermore, the accusation about Kitchener's murder was repeated with fanciful details of a time bomb on board of the Hampshire.

This time Churchill  had to sue. The case came to court in December 1923 and the first thing to be made clear was that by the time of the Battle of Jutland, Churchill had no connections with the Admiralty (this being post-Dardanelles) and could not have produced the false report.

According to Wikipedia:
As the attorney-general stated in court, on Churchill's behalf, there was no plot, no phoney communiqué, no stock market raid and no present of fine furniture.
The phrase is accurate enough in words but not entirely so in reality. As Douglas Murray writes:
When Churchill took the stand he volunteered much information about his private finances so that the defence could not make anything of them. He admitted that Cassel had given him £500 as a wedding present in 1908 and t hat, after the battle of Jutland, Cassel had furnished him with a library. None of this information had come out in the Morning Post case [when Douglas first aired his accusations and was found to have some justification for them] and many members of the public were unaware that such gifts were commonplace for politicians. 
The truth is that many members of the public and the media are still unaware that such gifts have always been commonplace for politicians.

Lord Alfred Douglas was found guilty of criminal libel and went to prison for six months, another turning point in his life and literary career. While in Wormwood Scrubs he wrote, when his health allowed him, his last major sequence of sonnets, In Excelsis, a defiant response to De Profundis. His career in litigation and libel was over and he started reassessing, yet again, his relationship with Wilde and other people. In particular, he became more sympathetic to Churchill with whom he exchanged a few friendly notes later. The last of this was a letter in December 1944 from a very ill Bosie in which he pleaded with the Prime Minister not to betray the Poles. Churchill reassured him in his reply that he would not do so and added a hand-written note wishing a recovery. Alas, Bosie never really recovered and died in March 1945. Neither did Churchill stand up for the Poles.

Given the terms on which those two parted, it is questionable whether either would find any joy in the idea of a reunification, though Catherine would, undoubtedly, have seen it as her duty to strive towards it. So, perhaps, she would be happy or, at least, content at being part of the second most popular exhibit in Gallery 1 of the National Portrait Gallery, the first being Richard III, the Tudors' bogeyman.




The story (and here) of the portrait being re-identified (though why it was mis-identified in the first place is a mystery, considering other available portraits) is fascinating but even more interesting is the fact that the portrait, most unusually, is in its original frame, carefully restored, and clearly meant to echo the colours of the painting. 


Ten years ago I wrote an article in the Salisbury Review about the fiftieth anniversary of Stalin's death or, at least, the fiftieth anniversary since it was announced. It is not on line so I found it in hard copy and decided to post it with some corrections - after all, some things have changed and, in any case, sixtieth has to be substituted for fiftieth.

Fear is the overwhelming theme of Russian history. People fear the rulers and the rulers constantly fear the people; members of the ruling caste fear both those above and those below; the intelligentsia fears the masses and the bosses. Sixty years ago these strands coalesced. On March 5, 1953 died Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin, the dreaded master of Russia and other republics. A man so feared and so adored that his name was pronounced with awe or, else, people whispered nicknames and avoided naming altogether. A man whose closest colleagues sweated (and worse) with fear every time he summoned them. A man, who was so afraid of the people that he rejected the very idea of a home guard in Moscow as the German army rolled forward in 1941, certain that the guns will be turned on him and his immediate entourage.

His death provoked relief but also fear. The authorities were so afraid that on the day of the funeral side streets were blocked off with armoured cars. A sudden wave of panic drove many of the huge crowd to the barriers and hundreds, maybe thousands, were crushed to death. As he ruled, so he died: surrounded by a sea of blood.

In the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe there were changes, immediate but slow. People were released from prisons and labour camps and mutterings of truth began, if only quietly. Hard-line politicians were superseded by others (in the case of the little Stalin of Czechoslovakia, Klement Gottwald, it was death that claimed him almost immediately). There were also uprisings in the labour camps that were put down with great ferocity, as was the first major East European revolt, the Berlin uprising of June 1953.

In the free and wealthy West his death was mourned far more. Liberals and left-wing politicians, writers, journalists, academics, entertainers, even the occasional trade union activist saw Stalin's Soviet Union as the shining beacon, the great hope of mankind. To do this, they resorted to greater and more extensive lying than any supporter of the Nazi regime had done. For decades the existence of labour camps and torture chambers, the death of millions of people and destruction of whole sections of the population was all denied.

Each small and carefully controlled revelation from the Soviet Union was greeted with shock and surprise. Those who wrote openly about the Soviet reality were vilified as cold war warriors, reactionaries, fascists. Only slowly has the truth about Communism been accepted. And really, has it? People know it was a nasty regime but there are relatively few discussions even if the South Bank has had to accept rather reluctantly that there was some fear in the Soviet Union as well. Any mention of Communist oppression tends to be dismissed as tiresome and unimportant. It is all finished. Let us not talk about it. How dare you mention it in the same breath as Nazi oppression? After all, the Communists meant well even if it always went wrong.

But we do need to talk about it. The man who died sixty years ago and his influence has distorted European and world politics much more than his equally vicious colleague and enemy Hitler. Yet Hitler's misdeeds are analyzed repeatedly and, more importantly, castigated. Any apologist for Nazism is denounced immediately and rightly. Apologists for Stalin, deniers of the Communist mass murder are still highly regarded or treated with sympathy and understanding. It is their opponents who are vilified. As we know even discussing the socialist roots of Nazism is considered to be beyond the pale, a tribute to the propaganda spread across the world under Stalin's auspices.

They may be divided in Georgia about Stalin (and that has much to do with the political situation there), President Putin may announce that the collapse of the Soviet Union was a geopolitical catastrophe but there is no excuse for Western amnesia. We must think very seriously about his deeds and their consequences. After all, we are still living with them.


These are the books I am reading or intending to read in the near future (not counting detective stories). Might be of interest.

In no particular order: Jonathan Foreman's Aiding and Abetting, published by Civitas, deals with the many problems associated with the aid industry. Also how to solve them. I would start by abolishing development aid immediately and limit humanitarian aid.

A People Passing Rude, edited by Anthony Cross, possibly the greatest living expert on early Anglo Russian relations: a collection of essays about British reactions to different aspects of Russian culture from the sixteenth century to the twentieth.

Robert Oulds's Montgomery and the First War on Terror, which deals with Monty's early career as counter-terrorist commander in Ireland and the Middle East. I have to admit to not starting on it yet. But I am looking forward to finding out how largely military missions can influence our own counter-terrorist activity. Or so I was told by the author.

Peter King's Reaction, which might tell me what it is conservatives should conserve when all existing institutions are contrary to their ideas and cherished beliefs.

Now this I am really looking forward to reading, having published several of the author's articles: Harshan Kumarasingham's A Political Legacy of the British Empire, which is a study of Power and the Parliamentary System in Post-Colonial India and Sri Lanka.

Dennis O'Keeffe's Edmund Burke, an excellent introduction to the man and his ideas, so influential in the conservative movement.

Finally, the deeply depressing Former People by Douglas Smith, which I shall be reviewing for the Salisbury Review but also blogging here. Come to think of it, I shall be blogging all of them.



History Today rightly points to the most important event in modern history that happened on this day in 1956: Khrushchev's so-called secret speech (it was, actually, secret in most of the Soviet Union and, theoretically, other Communist countries though the text had reached the West), which, once and for all, undermined the legitimacy of the Communist system even with people who believed in it.

It was an extraordinarily dangerous and daring thing for Khrushchev to do. Solzhenitsyn believed that he spoke out of ‘a movement of the heart’, a genuine impulse to do good. Others have pointed out, more cynically, that it tarred other party leaders with the Stalinist brush, to the ostentatiously repentant Khrushchev’s advantage. It deflected blame from the party and the system on to Stalin’s shoulders. A few months later it was announced that the congress had called for measures ‘for removing wholly and entirely the cult of the individual, foreign to Marxism-Leninism… in every aspect of party, governmental and ideological activity.’
On the whole, I am inclined to the second explanation. Call me cynical, if you like, but the deflecting of the blame is exactly what happened and Khrushchev's rivals were eased out of their position. Then again, none of them were imprisoned or shot, which is was a great advance in political methodology.

The two pictures I have chosen illustrate quite well where Nikita Khrushchev, himself a veteran of purges, the Ukrainian collectivization and of the Moscow metro construction, fitted. Maybe he did suddenly decide that he had to do something to make up for the blood on his own hands. Maybe.

As is well known the first woman MP actually to take her seat in the Commons was a Conservative, to wit, Nancy Astor. This blog  has mentioned her a few times before, naturally enough, here, here, here and here. It is, however, worth recalling her career yet again, as today is the anniversary of her Maiden Speech. Thus, on February 24, 1920 was the first time a woman spoke in the House of Commons.

No historian can ignore the astonishing announcement by Pope Benedict XVI that he intends to retire from the Chair of St Peter, announcement that has now been confirmed by the Vatican. The Reuters article is a strange mixture of items and events.

The immediate reason given by the Pope was that he felt that his health, physical and mental, was failing and he did not think he could do the work he was assigned by God, well enough. Given that Popes are not supposed to resign, this was immediately dismissed as being merely an excuse. His predecessor went on despite his obvious growing frailty, say those who find the argument unpersuasive. Others, and TH without being RC, agrees with them feel that, perhaps, there needs to be a form of retirement even for the occupier of St Peter's Chair when he feels that his powers are no longer adequate to the immense task.

Then the article goes on to discuss the various scandals that  have dogged the Pope's tenure, first and most important being the child abuse one, which had gone on for some decades and which was first properly investigated under Benedict.
Scandal from a source much closer to home hit in 2012 when the pontiff's butler, responsible for dressing him and bringing him meals, was found to be the source of leaked documents alleging corruption in the Vatican's business dealings, causing an international furore.
TH has never been able to understand that furore. Was anything proved beyond the fact that His Holiness had hired the wrong man to be his butler?

Then we get an account, which is surely to the Pontiff's credit of his visit to the site of a Nazi death camp and his effort to confront the evil that is in his country's past. Scrupulously, we are told that while he was a member of the Hitler Jugend, which was compulsory, he was not a member of the Nazi party and his family had opposed Hitler (though, presumably, not strongly enough to suffer some  of the truly horrible punishments). So much for the "Nazi Pope" that we sometimes get from rabid Germanophobes.

Finally, there is the "scandal" of the Pope quoting "a 14th century Byzantine emperor as saying Islam had only brought evil to the world and that it was spread by the sword". The inevitable riots followed and a nun was killed. Apparently, the scandal was not the fact that there were bloody riots in response to a historical or political comment but the comment itself.

Naturally, TH looked up the last Pope who had resigned, Gregory XII in 1415, during a serious muddle in the papacy and the time of many Popes.
Gregory was elected the pope of Rome in 1406 with the understanding that he would quickly resign if the pope of Avignon, Benedict XIII, would do the same. After a decade of negotiation and maneuvering, in which a third pope was elected, Gregory finally stepped down and became a bishop. When Benedict refused to resign, he was excommunicated, and Martin V was elected in 1417 as the sole pope.
There really seems to be little in common between the two events. Can we compare this resignation to that of  Celestine V in 1294?
Because Gregory XII’s resignation was part of a brokered settlement, a more appropriate comparison to Benedict’s situation might be Pope Celestine V, who resigned in 1294, Housely said. Celestine was a hermit when he was elected pope and he quickly quit to return to solitude after “he found the office too onerous,” he said.
TH finds it a little odd that a number of people reacted to the news by casting opprobrium at Tony Blair with funny little jokes about him wanting the position. This obsession with any politician seems extremely odd.

The resignation will take force from February 28, in the middle of Lent. We shall be watching that chimney again.

Yesterday we remembered the last Plantagenet King; today we celebrate Queen Elizabeth II's Accession to the Throne. It came about considerably more peacefully than that of Richard III or Henry VII but much of the language of the Proclamations dates back to those historic days with some allowance being made for the Commonwealth whose Queen she is, too.

Meanwhile, here are two videos to watch and enjoy. The first is of the Queen arriving in London and the Proclamations being  ..... proclaimed: The second is of more general pomp and circumstance:

Undoubtedly, the most important piece of news for anyone interested in history in the last couple of days was that the skeleton found under a car park in Leicester has been identified as being that of Richard III's. (Previous postings on the subject here and here.)

There can be little more said on the subject until we hear definitely on whether Leicester Cathedral will reinter the bones and what kind of ceremony will be put together. However, there is some interest in the reconstruction of King Richard's face on the basis of the skull and using advanced computer technology together with older fashioned wax modelling.

The article in the Independent seems to have been written by someone who has not seen the famous portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, the starting point of Inspector Alan Grant's investigation in Josephine Tey's excellent Daughter of Time.
All known portraits of Richard III were painted after his death and do not show him in a particularly flattering light, which suited the Tudor’s dynasty’s portrayal of him as one of the great villains of history.
In fact, there is some evidence that the best known portrait is a copy of an earlier one, possibly painted in the King's lifetime. In any case it is not unflattering but shows a face of some sensitivity and a personality that is far more attractive than Henry VII's in the portrait that hangs nearby. (I assume that there will be a flood of visitors to Room 1 of the National Portrait Gallery. The magic of monarchy combined with the fascination of archaeological discovery will ensure that and, no doubt, sell many souvenirs. One hopes that Josephine Tey's novel will also shoot into the best-seller list.)

In fact, the fascinating aspect of the reconstruction, pace the journalist in the Independent is how close that face is to the portrait. Either those who worked on the reconstruction were influenced by the portrait or the latter was very life-like.

Tory Historians should really have mentioned this yesterday as one of the greatest novels in the English language was published on January 27, 1813. It was advertised at 18s, rather a lot of money in those days and it had one of the most famous opening lines: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.". That line has been adapted by numerous hacks for numerous purposes, most of which ignore the sublime irony in it.

Tory Historian has protested before at the Mills and Boonification of Jane Austen and her novels. There is no need to repeat all the arguments. Though a few paragraphs might be worth quoting:
The famous TV series of “Pride and Prejudice” with Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet and Colin Firth as Mr Darcy starts with the young men riding into town (Meryton, one assumes). This places them at the centre of the subsequent plot.

Nothing could be further from the novel, which is about the Bennet family and, famously, starts with them discussing the recent arrival of Mr Bingley about whom they know very little but whom they suspect to be extremely eligible.

“Pride and Prejudice” is a clever picture of contemporary society. Unlike some Victorian novelists, Jane Austen has a clear idea of money. Mr Bennet has £2,000 a year and has been unable to increase that income or to save money for his daughters, largely because of his abdication of responsibility.

Mr Bingley has £4,000 or £5,000 a year and has not yet settled down. His sisters have an income of their own, so their father must have made quite a fortune in his business in the Midlands, something that they do not want to remember.

Mr Darcy is, of course, the representative of the old aristocracy, related to all sorts of people, the owner of a handsome estate that, unlike Mr Bennet, he pays attention to (though when exactly is hard to tell) and has £10,000 a year. This is to be viewed more like turn-over in a modern business rather than clear profit, as the money has to be used for the upkeep of Pemberley, the household, the estate as well as his lifestyle.
Miss Austen's novels were about women and their families, usually written from one point of view, that of the heroine. In the first chapter we meet the entire Bennet family but realize very soon that we are not going to know much about four of the sisters. Elizabeth is the one who matters and we see the world, including its male inhabitants through her eyes. It is her fondness for her father, whose favourite she is that prevents her and us from realizing for a long time how inadequate he is in his role.

One can go on about Pride and Prejudice for a very long time but the best advice TH can give to those who do not know it is to read it and to those who do is to read it again.

Whether one thinks of King Charles I as the Martyred King or as the ruler who was so utterly incompetent in his political thinking (not to mention weak-willed) that he drove the country to a civil war or, indeed, anything between those two views, one would have found it hard not to be impressed by the carefully prepared and excellently staged King's Army Parade today that followed the King's last route from St James's Palace to Whitehall Palace. There he, having famously donned three shirts as the day was a cold one and he did not want anyone to think he was shivering with fright, he stepped out of the window of the Banqueting Hall, the only part of the old palace still in existence, and entered his martyrdom.

As I followed the horse riders, the soldiers with their muskets and pikes turned down and the slowly beating muffled drums, I thought again what an extraordinary moment in history that was: the definitive separation of the King as a person from the King as the personification of state.

As we are approaching the anniversary of King Charles I's execution, the King's Army will be parading this Sunday at 11.30 [scroll down to date]. They will follow, mostly, the route the King took on his last journey from St James's Palace to the no longer existing Whitehall Palace. A small detachment will lay a wreath at the Banqueting Hall, which is still there. Then, I imagine, they will depart to the nearest hostelry, being Wrong but Wromantic.

Here is London Historian's description of last year's event.

Sir Winston Churchill died on January 24, 1965; his father, Lord Randolph Churchill on January 24, 1895.

Lord Randolph did not get a state funeral and,  in any case the film would have been of varying quality. Famously, Sir Winston did have one of the grandest state funerals  in history, mostly planned by him. Here is one part of it, with what, to me, is the most moving moment: the salute of the cranes in the docks.



 


Today is the anniversary of the younger Pitt's death. Not a special anniversary as he died on January 23, 1806 but he was a great enough man and Tory Prime Minister for us to note this day, a sad one for Britain then at war.

The last ten minutes of Sir Carol Reed's splendid war-time film, The Young Mr Pitt, with Robert Donat, John Mills, Robert Morley and other luminaries of the British screen. At the start of the sequence the fickle populace has once again come round to Pitt's support after hearing about the great victory at Trafalgar.

Just as you thought it was safe to come out as all Dickens events were over:

On February 1 there will be a talk in the Guildhall Library about Dickens and his illustrators.

It would seem that a visit to the Guildhall Library is indicated.

A long piece about Dorothy L. Sayers's conservatism is best described as work in progress though a few short postings have gone up from time to time, covering various aspects of her work, often with critical comments.

She remains a fascinating and talented lady who has contributed to many aspects of literature. I have just finished reading another book about  her, Catherine Kenney's The Remarkable Case of Dorothy L. Sayers, which started too slowly, gathered interest but trailed off again with chapters that were too long for what they said. There were interesting matters discussed, for all of that, even if the author seemed far too enamoured with Gaudy Night and The Documents in the Case.

Early on  in the chapter about Sayers's life, Professor Kenney has this to say:
Sayers once said that it is by an author's assumptions, by what he or she takes for granted, that we can really know the writer. In addition to assuming that her readers are familiar with the literature she cherishes, she also assumes that they share a certain sympathy - or at least a tolerance - for her world view, a view that endorses the traditional values of order and civility, as well as the concepts of personal responsibility and justifiable limits to human behaviour. Whilst the great detective, as an amateur generally works outside the law, he does not work against it, or seek to rend the basic social fabric. 
That is not to say that it  is necessary to accept or to endorse every aspect of society as it exists. Very few detective story writers of the Golden Age did that, pace Julian Symons. It is the traditional and orderly values that might have been undermined by the existing society as well as by the criminal that are so important to the whole genre of detective stories.

Tory Historian managed to visit the exhibition about Prince Henry at the National Portrait Gallery, The Lost Prince, in its dying hours or, to be precise, on the day before it close. It was a fascinating compilation of portraits, books, manuscripts and other artefacts related to Prince Frederick Henry Stuart, Prince of Wales, James I's eldest son, who died unexpectedly at the age of eighteen, leaving the inevitable feeling of lost opportunities?

Would he have been a better and, most importantly, a more intelligent king than his brother became? Would he have ended up on the scaffold? We cannot tell, for despite the wealth of material in the exhibition and despite a determined attempt to draw a picture of the prince as a forward looking king in training who was a determined Protestant, loved art, architecture and jousting and was interested in kingly matters such as relations with other countries and dynasties, the truth remains that we do not know enough about him. Detailed letters written to him by members of his circle chosen by his father and books dedicated to him mean little unless we have his responses, which, apparently, we do not. We do know, however, that he was inordinately fond of jewellery and of armour.

Here is Brian Sewell's amusing and perceptive review of the exhibition.

TH was touched and amused by a letter from James I to a very young Prince Henry in which he praises the boy for his improved handwriting (which, indeed, was mostly terrible) but expresses the strong suspicion that the boy did not write the Latin lines himself but copied them from somewhere else.

For many reasons, to do with fears of instability and James I's unpopularity a sort of mythology grew up around the successor and his early death in 1612 caused what seems to be a genuine outpouring of national grief. This did not last long and did not cause the dynasty to become any more popular.

However, the magical aspect of the monarchy was well demonstrated outside the rooms where the exhibition was held. Tory Historian turned into the corridor and was faced with a dense crowd. What on earth was happening? Answer: the new portrait of the Duchess of Cambridge has gone on view and people rushed into the National Portrait Gallery to see what in TH's opinion is a somewhat schmaltzy uninteresting picture. (Oh where are the Isaac Olivers de nos jours?)

Not far from it a slightly smaller crowd was examining and commenting on the older picture of Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and his brother, Prince Harry. Moving around the two groups into the exhibition about the "lost" prince and back again served to remind TH and, indeed, anyone else that the extraordinary magic and attraction of the British monarchy remains resolutely with us.


As a (one-time) contributor to History Today I was invited to their grand annual party and award giving ceremony, held at the Royal Society in Carlton House Terrace, a place and terrace full of historical connections.

The prize for the best picture research went to Pauline Hubner in The Great Builders, a book that looks well worth reading; the Longman/History Today Book of the Year award went to the first volume of Memories of Empire, titled The White Man's World, which looked interesting enough though, for myself I thought one of the others that received a special mention, a biography of John Dee, was more appealing.

The special Longman Trust Prize to a body or book or person who had contributed most to the study of history in the last year went to the Pevsner Architectural Guides published by Yale (formerly called Pevsner Buildings of England/Scotland/Wales/Ireland and published by Penguin but always and for ever known as Pevsner).


A great day for London: on January 9, 1863 a number of grandees were carried from Paddington to Farringdon Street Station on the first ever underground railway. It was opened to the public on the following day and 30,000 people crowded into the trains and stations. Despite the mockery and dire predictions the Metropolitan Railway proved to be a huge success.

More on the history and the day here.

Well, here we are, a week into 2013 and no postings yet. Tsk, tsk. Worse than that, this posting will be a link to an excellent blog by Paul Lay, Editor of History Today on whether Christianity should be taught at schools as researchers from Oxford University Department of Education say on the basis of opinions expressed by people questioned by YouGov.

Yes, is his resounding answer for very good reasons:

In a YouGov poll commissioned by the university, sampling the views of 1,832 adults in England, 64 per cent agreed that children need to learn about Christianity in order to understand English history.
They are not wrong, but it is also true that it is impossible to engage fruitfully with the vast swathe of European history between Marcus Aurelius and Voltaire – a millennia and a half – without some understanding of the beliefs of the people, high-born and low, during this crucial period in the history of mankind. The perils of ignorance were brought home to me when I accompanied a very bright, well-educated and successful friend around the Renaissance rooms of London’s National Gallery and was shocked by questions such as: ‘Who’s the man dressed in red carrying the big book.’ The answer, St Jerome, was met with a blank look.
Richard Dawkins and his cohorts and followers, all those militant atheists, should not fret, says Mr Lay. We are not talking about evangelization but education.

I am not sure Professor Dawkins and his militant atheists are that interested in education if it provides what they consider to be the wrong sort of information, that being anything they do not agree with. As a matter of fact, the good professor could do with a bit of history education himself. I have heard him speak at a meeting that was protesting against censorship imposed by an Islamic student group on another group that was trying to have a debate.

Professor Dawkins used the opportunity to lambast all religion and proclaim resoundingly that all bad things in history came from religion and all good things from anti-religious enlightenment. Having listed several "good" developments, he used one repeatedly as a particular example. Because the meeting was quite close to the Buxton Memorial Fountain that was built to commemorate the abolition of slavery in the British Empire,  it was the example of the abolition of the slave trade and then slavery that the good professor referred to several times. Unfortunately, the abolition of the slave trade and, subsequently, slavery was fought for by a group of people who were motivated by feelings of devout Christianity. A little fact that every school boy and girl ought to know.

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