Thoughtfully curated historical journalism
“But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister pale
And love the high embossed roof,
With antic pillars massy proof:
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.”—MILTON.
Are German seaplanes engaged in laying mines or acting as supply columns to some of their U-boats?
The movements of Nazi planes over the North Sea during the last few days suggest that this may be the case and it is generally admitted both by naval and air experts that the plan is feasible.
The German submarine U570, captured in August 1941, has since been carrying out patrols under the White Ensign, manned by a specially selected and specially trained crew of the Royal Navy’s submarine service. The particular object of her patrols was to seek out, and, if possible, destroy craft of her own kind.
Her Majesty and Prince Albert arrived in town at half-past four o’clock on Monday afternoon in an open carriage and four, escorted by a party of Hussars, from Claremont. The equerries in waiting, Colonel Arbuthnot and Colonel Wylde, followed in a chariot and four. Their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal, and their attendants, occupied another carriage ; and the Dowager Lady Lyttleton, lady in waiting, and Lord Byron, lord in waiting, were in the last carriage. Her Majesty and Prince Albert were received at Buckingham Palace by the Lord Steward, the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Colville, lord in waiting on Prince Albert.
“Imposing must have been the sight,
Ere desolation found thee.”—Bernard Barton.
There are scattered, throughout the country, the remains of several edifices, to whose history such peculiar interest attaches, that they would seem to have been left by Time, on his vast pilgrimage to Eternity, as memorials to revive the recollection of eventful periods in the annals of nations, and “this is of them.” For who can look upon the ancient gateway of Battle Abbey (which we here present to our readers) without realizing to his “mind’s eye ” the memorable battle of Hastings; and pondering on the consequences of that important conflict, which, on October 14, 1066, transferred the sceptre of England from the unfortunate Harold to the ambitious invader, William Duke of Normandy? Battle, a small market town in the rape of Hastings, in the county of Sussex, was anciently called Epiton, and was the scene of the celebrated encounter to which we have just referred. In commemoration of his momentous victory, the Conqueror erected a spacious and magnificent monastery, dedicated to St. Martin, and called De Bello or Battel, on the very spot where Harold, pierced with many arrows, breathed his last; the high altar, according to the most authentic reports, being reared on the place where the body of the vanquished monarch was discovered, its founder thus seeming to realize the notion, which an able dramatist puts into the mouth of one of his heroines—
The unpretending structure of which we this week present a view of to our friends, is rendered sacred by being the depository of the remains of that transcendant genius and poet—Byron. From Moore’s “Life of Byron,” we find that, “It was on Friday, the 16th of July, 1824, that in the small village church of Hucknall, the last duties were paid to the remains of Byron, by depositing them close to those of his mother in the family vault. Exactly on the same day of the same month in the preceding year, Byron said despondingly, to Count Gamba, ‘Where shall we be in another year?’ The gentleman to whom this foreboding speech was addressed, paid a visit some months after the interment to Hucknall, and was struck on approaching the village, by the strong likeness it seemed to bear to his lost friend’s melancholy death place, Missolonghi.”
