Today in 1655, England came under the rule of the godly Major-Generals. After having won the Civil War, the Puritan army (seen above in a 21st century reenactment) had twice downsized Parliament by removing the majority who wouldn’t vote as they told them to. Now Cromwell disbanded the whole thing and instead divided the country up into 15 military districts, ruled by his most godly soldiers, to impose God’s will as they understood it. It wasn’t popular.
Today is St Vincent of Saragossa’s Day, the patron saint of wine-producers and vinegar-makers. Why not celebrate with a bottle of your favourite vinegar?
Born today in 1572 was John Donne, the English poet, whose day job after 1621 was as the well-paid Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London. His poetry is full of strong paradoxes and ambiguities, and was an abrupt departure from the smooth and elegant poetry of his time. Donne wrote poetry that was passionately erotic, but also poetry that was passionately religious, with love as the common element.
O Saviour, as thou hang’st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may’st know mee, and I’ll turne my face.
John Donne, ‘Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward’
Image: Neil Howard