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Thursday, November 12, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The wreck resurfaces
William James Clough came out from England as a Salvation Army Officer to work in the Wonthaggi Mines of Victoria, sometime before the First World War, and as far as I know, brought this very boat with him or made it on the long trip out here. He was my grandfather on my mother’s side and the HMS Victory has been lost from my family since his demise.
I never knew the man; he died a long time before I was bourn. Even my mother only had vague memories and a story of how he died in a motor cycle accident. This kind of endeared me to him, for as I grew up, I began a long love affair with the deadly two wheeled beasts. So I find it amazing and appropriate that I end up with, what I assume, was his prize possession.
When he died, he left my mother an orphan to be raised by older step children whom inherited all he left. As time would have it, they all did quite well in this Australian life, except my mother who suffered from a bad case of the “Cinderella’s”. So when the wreck of the Victory finally resurfaced this year and made its way into my possession, it represented all we ever inherited and an appropriate representation it is.
On the other side of the world, while William was beginning his stinted attempts at a dynasty, Thomas Scholfield my paternal grandfather was leaving a wife and a profitable business as a Cooper, to fight for his county in the trenches of France. He returned a broken man after receiving three doses of mustard gas for his trouble and spent the remainder of his day’s unsuccessfully partitioning for adequate compensation.
Eventually World War Two broke out, my father signed up to do his patriotic duty with the British Navy and ended up in Australia after serving in every theatre of war the second had to offer, including being one the first set of allied feet on Japan’s freshly radiated soil. With boundless energy he went about doing all the dirty job’s Aussies didn’t want and he didn’t stop till Cancer stopped him, all without any recognition from the British and no repat pension from the good old Aussie Services.
Not to worry, it’s all good here in the lucky country as I, being the only surviving male heir in Australia to both my Fathers clan and Williams are here to attest. The point of telling this little tale is two fold; one to inform those that don’t know that the original wreck of the Victory has been found and is looking like being the biggest find of English Maritime treasures with heaps of brass cannons and four ton of gold coins. Here’s the link http://www.shipwreck.net/hmsvictory.php and for those that are interested, after my fathers estate was settled I had another interesting item to go on the mantelpiece with Granddads model ship; a lovely original pigskin wallet, empty of course.
The wreck resurfaces
William James Clough came out from England as a Salvation Army Officer to work in the Wonthaggi Mines of Victoria, sometime before the First World War, and as far as I know, brought this very boat with him or made it on the long trip out here. He was my grandfather on my mother’s side and the HMS Victory has been lost from my family since his demise.
I never knew the man; he died a long time before I was bourn. Even my mother only had vague memories and a story of how he died in a motor cycle accident. This kind of endeared me to him, for as I grew up, I began a long love affair with the deadly two wheeled beasts. So I find it amazing and appropriate that I end up with, what I assume, was his prize possession.
When he died, he left my mother an orphan to be raised by older step children whom inherited all he left. As time would have it, they all did quite well in this Australian life, except my mother who suffered from a bad case of the “Cinderella’s”. So when the wreck of the Victory finally resurfaced this year and made its way into my possession, it represented all we ever inherited and an appropriate representation it is.
On the other side of the world, while William was beginning his stinted attempts at a dynasty, Thomas Scholfield my paternal grandfather was leaving a wife and a profitable business as a Cooper, to fight for his county in the trenches of France. He returned a broken man after receiving three doses of mustard gas for his trouble and spent the remainder of his day’s unsuccessfully partitioning for adequate compensation.
Eventually World War Two broke out, my father signed up to do his patriotic duty with the British Navy and ended up in Australia after serving in every theatre of war the second had to offer, including being one the first set of allied feet on Japan’s freshly radiated soil. With boundless energy he went about doing all the dirty job’s Aussies didn’t want and he didn’t stop till Cancer stopped him, all without any recognition from the British and no repat pension from the good old Aussie Services.
Not to worry, it’s all good here in the lucky country as I, being the only surviving male heir in Australia to both my Fathers clan and Williams are here to attest. The point of telling this little tale is two fold; one to inform those that don’t know that the original wreck of the Victory has been found and is looking like being the biggest find of English Maritime treasures with heaps of brass cannons and four ton of gold coins. Here’s the link http://www.shipwreck.net/hmsvictory.php and for those that are interested, after my fathers estate was settled I had another interesting item to go on the mantelpiece with Granddads model ship; a lovely original pigskin wallet, empty of course.
FC
It came to exist at the same time as me
And was originally called a Holden FE
My dad bought one and he called it fun
The maiden voyage, the Queensland run
First photos of Wayne were at the wheel
It was then that I knew I had the feel
For beautiful cars, and the wild life
Even though it would lead to strife
Sixteen years latter I had my own
The ancient equivalent of a mobile phone
If you couldn’t hook up, with one of these
Chances are you had mange, or fleas
My best mate had one with a back
A panel van, wide wheels and board racks
Mobile freedom and a bed on the go
We had it made with flairs and a fro
Double Jay concerts and days at the beach
No party or venue was out of our reach
Girls on the make and grog near at hand
We really were, kings of the land
No car could match it for style and grace
Even though you’d get beat in a race
Didn’t mater what anyone said
Fords were only for extreme rev heads
V8 Holden’s were for Peter Brock types
We were above that and better at nights
Rolling along with Hendrix and songs
Girls in the back were wearing their thongs
If you wanted a drag my bike would suffice
Twelve second quarters at a Honda price
Would leave them crying in my wake
With all the horse power they could rake
Yep Holden’s ruled there’s no doubt about that
Believe what you want with out knowing the fact
While you were dreaming outside in the back
We were nailing it, in the old FC hack
Goin’ Fishin’
My old man worked twenty four seven
Which wasn’t bad, for a Westie Bevan
His quest for dollars became a mission
But that didn’t leave much time for fishin’
When times came around for taking a trip
The bugger was full of lies and bull shit
After thirty years or so, it fell to me
To invite him fish hunting, as a retiree
The prep was grand on a scale for us
Buy a fibreglass skiff and a trailer with rust
Patch it, paint it and put an Evinrude to match
Get the rods and the reels, a bag for the catch
A tent, sleeping bags, blow ups, the lot
Stacked in the boat not much we forgot
Sun cream, Aeroguard, hats and a change
Maps and spare fuel I cleverly arranged
Two hours north and a beautiful day
We were off-- to Tin Can Bay
But before we got there, I must explain
It positively pissed down with rain
Not to worry for we were in the car
And it fined up fast before we’d gone far
Only problem was the soaking of bedding
And that could dry out while we were fishing
So with tent set up and ship set to sail
We were absolutely sure not to fail
With Dad in the front and me in the back
I soon reeled in my first Mangrove Jack
Everything was going well as night began to fall
But there and then we realised mosquito’s were the call
Not your every day type, these ones were from hell
Big black bastards and our blood they could smell
I thought I had it covered though
Cause back to the camp we would go
Lots of repellent and a fully meshed tent
To enjoy a dinner that was heaven sent
With a six horse, flat strap, we couldn’t out run
Twelve thousand mossies lookin’ for fun
I went quite mental swinging my belt
By the time we got there, just one big welt
Left the boat in the water and run at full pace
Picked up the bedding, it looked like a race
Into the tent with no moments to spare
But a nightmare was waiting, when we got there
Midges had nested in all that we owned
Silence was shattered as both of us groaned
And the pest sprays didn’t work as they orta’
The mean little buggers drank it like water
To make matters worse, they come two abreast
Thought my father was having an arrest
I just needed some time to think
So back to the river and into the drink
We sat there up to our ears in relief
Bating our eyelids to stop further grief
But as time would have it we started to freeze
The plan was to run for it and head for the breeze
Out of the water and into the car
The windows were down so therefore no bar
It was full of bities so we had to get going
Down the track we went without even slowing
Bouncing around like two jumping beans
At least we were rid of those flying machines
All was lost and there was no going back
Calamine lotion was all that we lacked
Rolled into Gympie at quarter to five
Suffering from a bad case of hives
Waited outside till the chemist was open
He took one look at us and said “you’re gotta be jokin”
Sitting in the cafe with only our shorts
Covered in white stuff and listening to snorts
When a young Murri guy let rip a jibe
“I know were I’m from, but what’s your tribe.”
Dolphins, what dolphins?
A meditation on top of the falls
Clear as a bell I heard the calls
To sojourn in the sea of salt
An invitation to good to fault
The nearest beach was miles away
Somewhere near our Byron Bay
But a walking track was not so far
And I finished the last part in a car
On the sand at waters edge I see
A six foot closeout barring me
From entry to the glassy rack
Forming nicely out the back
I grab the board with no leg rope tied
And paddle for hell against the tide
Under lips that were pushing me
On to the bottom of the sea
My dash for the back was almost done
When looming there against the sun
Stood a briny pyramid ten foot high
Blocking my vision to the sky
To make things worse and me quite glum
My board had gone and I had no gun
Five dolphins lay readied on the crest
To speed my way and piece my chest
I dived as deep as I could go
Only to be pulled up into the show
Opened my eyes as wide as I could
Flapped my arms and patiently stood
In the wave that was ten tones thick
I was worried I would shit a brick
Five noses coming straight for me
At thirty knots and no time to flee
One went directly over my head
And two at my hands I could have fed
Two at my feet but they quickly past
A star of energy and a memory to last
Old man of the sea
Sleep wasn’t coming easy
The radio didn’t help at all
Reports of a giant swell
Building from the gates of hell
Kept the adrenalin flowin’
And I couldn’t wait to go
Down to Currumbin Rock and see
The waves that were haunting me
------------------------------------
Mornings light was yet to shine
The wet suit drying on the line
Boards were lashed to the Holden’s rack
And nothin’ was going to hold me back
------------------------------------
The car park full at quart to five
Everything was cumin’ alive
The line up started on the rock
Bravest souls first to drop
Into the soup and paddle out
Under brine stacked like a house
By the time I took the dive
Legends were hangin’ five
-----------------------------------
The barrelin’ section in front of the rock
Was an esky lid play pen not for the lot
Diving in there was death for sure
Paddling around the back even more
------------------------------------
Pick up on the wrong one and expect to die
I’m telling you this and I do not lie
T’was getting bigger with the tide
Pick the set and you’re in for a ride
Back from surfers on the bus
Amidst the chunder and the fuss
Most of us were paddling, going nowhere fast
The BIG ones wasted, too far out
------------------------------------
All of a sudden and right on cue
The Mayor of Currumbin came into view
On the tip of the rock and about to pounce
And paddled straight out, regardless of paunch
Pulled on to the Wave of the day
Freefell ten feet into the fray
Stagger a bit and grabbed the rail
In a bottom turn not for the frail
-------------------------------------
He drove up the face with awesome force
Trimmed and stood there proud as a horse
As the barrel engulfed him we all held our breath
Cause this old guy was dicein’ with death
---------------------------------------
He looked a little wobbly
As he spat out of the hole
But it didn’t matter
Style was not the goal
Gathered speed with turns of gold
Hit the lip right on the fold
Floated sideways into place
And into Lacy’s with heaps of pace
---------------------------------------
Down the line he did go
Passed the young guns and those that know
Men like that don’t come along all time
And poems about them usually don’t rhyme
-----------------------------------------
So when I tell my stories now
I don’t forget the sacred cow
Of tales and memories fading fast
Or Ishmael, when tied to the mast
Was something most will never greet
Or someone they will never meet
And defiantly all but none will ever be
As brave and heroic as the old man of the sea
A day to remember
I was heading south out of Queensland and had paused to spend the coldest part of the night sucking down a bottle of Stones. This was the only way to stop the wind chill factor shakes that was preventing me from having a clean run. The bull dosser that pushed yesterday’s trees into a pile by the road was my best ally against the frozen wind because the fire wasn’t much help; couldn’t get close enough to it. Sleep finally came and it seemed only like a moment before the early morning road gang was waking me up.
On with the full face, kick the beast to life and back at it. It was a full 10 minutes before I let the tacho rise above three grand and only when the Burringbar Range was in my rear mirrors did I lift the right foot to place the segregated gear box into top gear. The touring range of my interstate tank was full and the Grafton fuzz weren’t out of bed yet, so it only seemed like a dawn breaking fart before Coffs was a distant memory. Maxville’s Iron Bridge became Newcastle’s gateway and a milkshake at the Oak wasn’t as attractive as a Hawkesbury oyster, so I pushed on towards Sydney. Just passed the Toukley turn off and wouldn’t ya know it, a creep club was blocking me. As I rounded the big right hander on to Wyong straight, I couldn’t take it anymore, I flicked on the blinker, stuck the nineteen inch Dunlop on the yellow line and before we were half way along the eighteenth fairway I was three cars behind the offending long wide load. A police escort was in front waving the on coming traffic onto the verge, when a Mac Bulldog, carting a full load of bricks, came out of the Wyong township, steered left over the railway bridge and didn’t even attempt to slow down as it turned to negotiate the verge. As it turned out rather unsuccessfully!
Here I was, perched in the middle of the road with nowhere to go and fifty ton of bricks heading straight for me, pushing a jack knifed prime mover. I had less than five seconds to live. I tapped the Mageera leaver in my right hand twice, just enough to see the tail lights of the Falcon beside me, laid into a ninety degree lefthander and gassed it off the bonnet of a Commodore up the Fords arse. As I was leaving the raised surface of the carriage way, I managed a quick look in the direction of the driver of the offending implement, visible to me through his side window, and he was ducking for cover. Boom, the fibreglass cab exploded into a million pieces as the overhanging load from the westward bound freight ripped it open like it was a can of tuna.
Back to the task at hand: I was leaving a perfectly good road surface and taking to the air between it and the wire mesh fence protecting motorists from stray white balls, I just cleared it and landed heavily in the sand bunker. That day in seventy six never left my memory, as I’m sure it didn’t the twenty odd drivers that got side swiped or the shell shocked suicide jock that crawled out of the burning wreck.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
He who can't be named!
14 April
William and Mary
William I was a Stadtholder (Dutch for Steward) It is comparable with the French title Lieutenant, England's fifteenth century Lord Lieutenant with the Italian title of Doge.
Henrietta Maria was Princess of France and Queen Consort of England, Scotland and Ireland through her marriage to Charles I. She was the mother of two kings, Charles II and James II, and was grandmother to Mary II, William III, and Anne of Great Britain. She was also, through her daughter Henrietta, Duchess of Orléans, the ancestor of Louis XV, Louis XVI, Louis XVII, Louis XVIII &Charles X. Through the illegitimate children of Charles II, she is a direct ancestor of Princess Diana , Prince William and Prince Harry.
William II was a Stadtholder of the the United Provinces of the Netherlands On May 2, 1641 William married Mary Henrietta Stuart, the Princess Royal, the eldest daughter of King Charles I of England and Queen Henrietta Maria in the Chapel Royal, Whitehall Palace, London.
Mary, Princess Royal's ancestors were
Father: Charles I of England
Paternal Grandfather: James I of England
Paternal Great-grandfather: Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley
Paternal Great-grandmother: Mary I of Scotland
Paternal Grandmother: Anne of Denmark
Paternal Great-grandfather: Frederick II of Denmark
Paternal Great-grandmother: Sophie of Mecklenburg-Güstrow
Mother: Henrietta Maria of France
Maternal Grandfather: Henry IV of France
Maternal Great-grandfather: Antoine de Bourbon
Maternal Great-grandmother: Jeanne III of Navarre
Maternal Grandmother: Marie de' Medici
Maternal Great-grandfather: Francesco I de' Medici
Maternal Great-grandmother: Johanna of Austria
William III of England and Mary II of England
Co-regents 1689-95
Upon the death of Charles II in 1685, the Duke of York became King as James II in England and Ireland (and as James VII in Scotland). He had a controversial religious policy and the King James Bible;
On 30 June, the Immortal Seven secretly requested William—then in the Netherlands with Mary—to come to England with an army. At first, William was reluctant; he was jealous of his wife's position as the heiress to the English Crown and feared that she would become more powerful than he was. Mary, however, convinced her husband that she did not care for political power, telling him "she would be no more but his wife, and that she would do all that lay in her power to make him King for life". William agreed to invade and issued a declaration which referred to James' newborn son as the "pretended Prince of Wales". He also gave a list of grievances of the English people and stated that his proposed expedition was for the sole purpose of having "a free and lawful Parliament assembled". The Dutch army finally landed on 5 November, having been turned back by a storm in October. The disaffected English Army and Navy went over to William, and English people's confidence in James stood so low that they did not attempt to save their King. On 11 December, the defeated King attempted to flee, but was intercepted. A second attempt at flight, on 23 December, was successful: James escaped to France where he lived in exile until his death.
Mary was upset by the circumstances surrounding the deposition of her father, but William ordered her to appear cheerful on their triumphant arrival in London. As a result, she was criticised for appearing cold to her father's plight. James, too, wrote a diatribe against her criticising her disloyalty, an action which deeply affected the pious Mary.
The invasion marked the final defeat of England in the Anglo-Dutch Wars of the 17th century. However, the personal union, the common market and the merging of the English and Dutch navies shifted the dominance in world trade from the Netherlands to England (and then theUnited Kingdom of Great Britain). Although most in England accepted William as Sovereign, he faced considerable opposition in Scotland and Ireland. The Scottish Jacobites—those who believed that James VII was the legitimate monarch—won a stunning victory on 27 July 1689 at theBattle of Killiecrankie, but were nevertheless subdued within a month. William's reputation suffered following the Massacre of Glencoe (1692), in which 78 Highland Scots were murdered or died of exposure for not properly pledging their allegiance to the new King and Queen. Bowing to public opinion, William dismissed those responsible for the massacre, though they still remained in his favour; in the words of the historianJohn Dalberg-Acton, "one became a colonel, another a knight, a third a peer and a fourth an earl."
Whilst William was away fighting, his wife, Mary II, governed the realm, but acted on his advice. Each time he returned to England, Mary gave up her power to him without reservation, an arrangement that lasted for the rest of Mary's life. William endowed the College of William and Mary (in present day Williamsburg, Virginia) in 1693. Nassau, the capital of The Bahamas, is named after Fort Nassau, which was renamed in 1695 in his honor. Similarly Nassau County, New York a county on Long Island, is a namesake. Long Island itself was also known as Nassau during early Dutch rule. Though many alumni of Princeton University think that Princeton, N.J. (and hence the university) was named in his honor, this is probably untrue. Nassau Hall, at the university campus, is so named, however.
The modern day Orange Institution is named after William III, and makes a point of celebrating his victory at the Boyne. New York City was briefly renamed New Orange for him in 1673 after the Dutch recaptured the city, which had been renamed New York by the British in 1665. His name was applied to the fort and administrative center for the city on two separate occasions reflecting his different sovereign status—first as Fort Willem Hendrick in 1673, and then as Fort William in 1691 when the English evicted Colonists who had seized the fort and city.
William and Mary (the Adam and Eve of Virginia)
William Randolph (1650– 1711) was a colonist and land owner who played an important role in the history and government of theCommonwealth of Virginia. He moved to Virginia sometime between 1669 and 1673, and married Mary Isham (1652–December 29*, 1735) a few years later. His descendants included several prominent political figures, including Thomas Jefferson and John Marshall. Genealogists have taken an interest in him for his progeny's many marital alliances, referring to him and Mary Isham as "the Adam and Eve of Virginia".
*The same day Mary II supposable died in 1694 at the age of 32.
The Randolphs were established gentry, in England, meaning that they had property and a family tradition of knightly military service signified by a coat of arms. Although the family can be directly traced back only as far as 1500, the name appears in the Doomsday Book and there is a distinguished Scottish family with which they may have been connected. There is better evidence that they were descended from Surety Barons of Magna Carta through a female line. The historian David Hackett Fisher shows a chart illustrating gentry intermarriages in which the Randolphs and Ishams figure. Although there is no record of William's attending a university, his half-uncle Thomas Randolph was an Oxford don and noted poet.
After his arrival in Virginia, Randolph began working as an "undertaker" (building contractor), before turning to tobacco farming. Even after he had acquired property, a tax roll refers to him as "William Randolph, Merchant". At some point he owned a ship which travelled between Bristol, England and his dock at Turkey Island. Randolph held multiple official appointments. At the local level, he became clerk of Henrico County Court in 1673 and held the position until he was asked to serve as a justice of the peace in 1683. He also served as sheriff and coroner.
In addition, Randolph represented Henrico County in every assembly of the House of Burgesses from 1684 to 1698, was the Speaker of the House of Burgesses in 1698, and was the Clerk of the House from 1699 to 1702. He fell ill in August of 1702 and his son, William, took his place. Randolph resigned the clerkship completely in March of 1703.
Randolph was also one of the founders and first trustees of the College of William and Mary. His son, John Randolph, was awarded a knighthood on a trip to London to secure a royal charter for the College.
Randolph was a friend of William Byrd and served as an advisor to Byrd’s sons during their political careers. He is mentioned in one of Byrd's diaries without the supercilious tone Byrd employed with most of his contemporaries, no small character reference. Byrd also describes a visit to Tuckahoe Plantation around 1733.
He built a mansion on the Turkey Island plantation on high ground overlooking the island and the river. It featured a ribbed dome and was known as the "Bird's Cage
Thomas Jefferson was born on April 13, 1743 into a family closely related to some of the most prominent individuals in Virginia, the third of eight children. His mother was Jane Randolph, daughter of Isham Randolph, a ship's captain and sometime planter, first cousin to Peyton Randolph, and granddaughter of wealthy English gentry. Jefferson's father was Peter Jefferson, a planter and surveyor in Albemarle County(Shadwell, then Edge Hill, Virginia.) He was of Welsh descent. When Colonel William Randolph, an old friend of Peter Jefferson, died in 1745, Peter assumed executorship and personal charge of William Randolph's estate in Tuckahoe as well as his infant son, Thomas Mann Randolph
13 April
He who can't be named!
Witch one is the Head Master?
Thomas Jefferson - Thomas Malthus or the Viscount Melbourne
(April 13, 1743 – July 4, 1826) (13 February 1766 – 23 Dec 1834) ( 5 March 1779 – 24 Nov 1848)
Thomas Jefferson was a political philosopher, a man of the Enlightenment and knew many intellectual leaders in Britain and France. Jefferson served as the wartime Governor of Virginia (1779–1781), first United States Secretary of State(1789–1793) and second Vice President (1797–1801) before becoming the 3rd President .
He was born in 1743 into a family closely related to some of the most prominent individuals in Virginia, the third of eight children. His mother was Jane Randolph, daughter of Isham Randolph (a ship's captain who owned a ship which travelled between Bristol, England and his dock at Turkey Island), first cousin to Peyton Randolph, and granddaughter of wealthy English gentry. She came from a leading Tidewater family, and had a noble bloodline ranging back to various locations in England and Scotland. Family lore held her as descended from various European royalty ranging as far back as Charlemagne. The first record of Jane's presence in Virginia is her marriage to Peter Jefferson on October 3, 1739.
Peter Jefferson, a self-educated jack of all trades, was of Welsh descent. When Colonel William Randolph, an old friend of Peter Jefferson, died in 1745, Peter assumed executorship and personal charge of William Randolph's estate in Tuckahoe as well as his infant son, Thomas Mann Randolph.
William Randolph and Mary Isham Randolph
In 1752, Jefferson began attending a local school run by William Douglas, a Scottish minister. At the age of nine, Jefferson began studyingLatin, Greek, and French. In 1757, when he was 14 years old, his father died. Jefferson inherited about 5,000 acres (20 km²) of land and dozens of slaves. He built his home there, which eventually became known as Monticello.
In 1772, at age 29 Jefferson married the 23-year-old widow Martha Wayles Skelton. They had six children: Martha Jefferson Randolph (1772–1836), Jane Randolph (1774–1775), a stillborn or unnamed son (1777), Mary Jefferson Eppes (1778–1804), Lucy Elizabeth (1780–1781), and Elizabeth (1782–1785). Martha died on September 6, 1782. Although Jefferson was only 39 at her death, he never remarried.
Jefferson is believed to have taken an enslaved woman as a companion, as other wealthy widowers had done. He had a nearly four decades-long relationship with Sally Hemings, a young quadroon believed to have been a half-sister to his late wife. (They were both the children of John Wayles, and Sally's mother Betty Hemings was mixed-race. Wayles had started a relationship with Betty Hemings after becoming a widower.) DNA testing has supported the weight of historical evidence pointing to the relationship, and the conclusion that Jefferson was the father of Sally's six mixed-race children (who were of seven-eighths white ancestry). Four of the children survived: Beverly, Harriet, Madisonand Eston, and Jefferson freed all of them at about age 21.
During Jefferson's term as governor of Virginia, it was invaded twice by the British. He, along with Patrick Henry and other leaders, were but ten minutes away from being captured by Banastre Tarleton, a British colonel leading a cavalry column that was raiding the area in June 1781. Public disapproval of his performance delayed his future political prospects, and he was never again elected to office in Virginia.
In 1784, Thomas Jefferson took up residence in Paris (as the American envoy) when the French Revolution was being hatched and despite being friends with the ruling and social elite, he sided with the revolutionaries when the killing began. He returned to become the USA’s first Secretary of State in 1789 with his eldest daughter Martha, looking just like her dead mother Martha, by his side.
Martha Jefferson (not sure which one)
Jefferson achieved distinction as, among other things, a horticulturist, statesman, architect, archaeologist, inventor, and founder of theUniversity of Virginia which is still one of the most exclusive educational institutes in the world. Conceived in 1800 and established by 1819, it is the only university in the United States to be designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, an honour it shares with nearby Monticello. Although Jefferson undertook all planning of the University, the land underneath it was once a farm belonging to Monroe. His farmhouse was located on Monroe Hill, which today is the site of one of three undergraduate residential colleges.
.
Elevation of The Rotunda drawn by Thomas Jefferson in 1819 and fire in 1885
Meanwhile across the Atlantic
Thomas Robert Malthus
Born 13th Feb 1766;
was beginning his public life by signing up for an arts degree at Cambridge, majoring in Mathematics and specializing in Latin, Greek and French, about the same time as Thomas Jefferson was beginning his sojourn in Europe. By the time he had Mastered it, produced his famous treatise, An Essay on the Principle of Population, Jefferson was being elected to the White house. For a man who had just presided over and closely witnessed the deaths of Millions of New Virginians, Brits and French, Malthusian theory must have come as a breath of fresh air.
Quote:
"The power of population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth to produce subsistence for man. Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ratio. Subsistence increases only in an arithmetical ratio. A slight acquaintance with numbers will show the immensity of the first power in comparison with the second." T.R. Malthus
On a personal note while Jefferson was living in the white house with his 20 to 30 year old daughters, Malthus was marrying his young cousin Harriet and procuring two or three of his own and his Cambridge study buddy, the Viscount Melbourne, was marrying the infamous Lady Caroline (Ponsonby) Lamb.
Note: If that lot ever got together for a party you wouldn’t know witch one was witch.
The Jeffersons
The Malthusians
and The Lambs
And if the future King William turned up with his main squeeze Dorothy, I wouldn’t want to be allocating bedrooms.
Especially if Byron and Mary Shelly turned up;
Anyway, Pops Malthus went on to become Professor of History and Political Economy, at
The East India Company College (now known as Haileybury) in Hertfordshire.
It was then and is now one of the most influential educational institutes in Briton.
By the time Jefferson had started and won America’s first external war (First Barbary War
(1801-1805), established the United States Military Academy at West Point and established
Virginia’s University in 1818, Malthus had become a Fellow of the Royal Society.
As for William Lamb He first came to general notice for reasons he would rather have avoided: his wife had a public affair with Lord Byron — she coined the famous characterization of him as "mad, bad, and dangerous to know". The resulting scandal was the talk of Britain in 1812. Eventually the two reconciled and though they separated in 1825, her death (1828) affected him considerably.
Lamb's hallmark was finding the middle ground. Though a Whig, he accepted the post of Irish Secretary (1827) in the moderate Tory governments of George Canning and Lord Goderich. Upon the death of his father in 1828 and his becoming Viscount Melbourne, he moved to the House of Lords, but when the Whigs came to power under Lord Grey in November 1830 he became Home Secretary in the new government. One of his first acts was to insist on harsh punishments for the impoverished agricultural labourers involved in the machine-breaking Swing Riots. Sentences of hanging, transportation and imprisonment followed all that before becoming Prime Minister.
King William IV's opposition to the Whigs' reforming ways led him to dismiss Melbourne in November. He then gave the Tories under Robert Peel an opportunity to form a government. Peel's failure to win a House of Commons majority in the resulting general election (January 1835) made it impossible for him to govern, and the Whigs returned to power under Melbourne in April 1835. This was the last time a British monarch attempted to dismiss a prime minister.
The next year, Melbourne was once again involved in a sex scandal. This time he was the victim of attempted blackmail from the husband of a close friend, society beauty and author Caroline Norton. The husband demanded £1400, and when he was turned down he accused Melbourne of having an affair with his wife. In the early 19th century even one sexual scandal (like the one two decades earlier involving Lord Byron) would be enough to finish off the career of most men, so it is a measure of the respect contemporaries had for his integrity that Melbourne's government did not fall. After Mr. Norton was unable to produce any evidence of an affair, the scandal died away.
Nonetheless, as a recent historian records, "it is irrefutable that Melbourne's personal life was problematic": Spanking sessions with aristocratic ladies were harmless, not so the whippings administered to orphan girls taken into his household as objects of charity.
Melbourne was Prime Minister when Queen Victoria came to the throne (June 1837). Barely eighteen, she was only just breaking free from the domineering influence of her mother, the Duchess of Kent, and her mother's advisor, John Conroy. Over the next four years Melbourne trained her in the art of politics and the two became friends: Victoria was quoted as saying she considered him like a father (her own had died when she was only eight months old), and Melbourne's daughter had died at a young age. Melbourne was given a private apartment at Windsor Castle, and unfounded rumours circulated for a time that Victoria would marry Melbourne, forty years her senior.
In May 1839 the Bedchamber Crisis occurred when Melbourne tried to resign and Victoria rejected the request of prospective Tory Prime Minister Robert Peel that she dismiss some of the wives and daughters of Whig MP's who made up her personal entourage. As Monarch she was expected to avoid any hint of favouritism to a party out of power, so her action (which was supported by the Whigs) led to Peel's refusal to form a new government. Melbourne was eventually persuaded to stay on as Prime Minister. On 25 February 1841, he was admitted a Fellow of the Royal Society.
The capital city of Melbourne, Australia, was named in his honour in March 1837, but that’s another story.
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Mad Jack.
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