Biographical Extracts
Posts in The Copybook tagged ‘Biographical Extracts’
Thomas Telford told the parish council of St Chad’s Church in Shrewsbury that their leaky roof was the last thing they should worry about.
In July 1788, rising surveyor Thomas Telford was living in Shrewsbury Castle as a guest of the local MP, Sir William Pulteney, who had acquired the historic fortress through his wife Frances and wanted Telford to make it habitable. News of his residence nearby reached the parish council of St Chad’s Church, who thought he might be just the man to mend their leaky roof.
William Pitt was a rising star of British politics in 1741, so much so that Horace Walpole MP felt he needed his wings clipped — an operation fraught with peril.
On March 10th, 1741, veteran MP Horace Walpole (1678-1757), the Prime Minister’s brother, fancied that he would silence that upstart William Pitt (1708-1778) by drawing attention to his inexperience, and scolding him for his theatrical manners of speech and gesture. He drew a reply of such withering sarcasm that it merely confirmed Pitt as the rising statesman of his generation.
‘Rain stopped play’ but it did not stop the ladies of Surrey and Hampshire from finishing their epic struggle at the Newington ground.
The first recorded game of cricket between two all-women teams took place back in 1745, but we must fast-forward to 1811 for the first county match, pitting Surrey against Hampshire on neutral ground in Middlesex. Thanks to the enthusiasm of the players and a fashionably boisterous crowd, even ‘rain stopped play’ could not dampen the occasion and a good time was had by all.
In Jim Baker’s considered opinion, the bluejay had a much better command of language than Mark Twain’s cats did.
While walking in the woods near Heidelberg, Mark Twain was subjected to a barrage of derisory comment by three ravens. Not that he pretended to understand their language, but he got the gist of it well enough. That set him thinking about talking animals, and remembering what grizzled Californian miner Jim Baker had once told him about the ravens’ cousin, the bluejay.
At the Berlin Congress of Powers in 1878, the draft of the Prime Minister’s keynote speech had his anxious aides scuttling about like ants.
On July 13th, 1878, statesmen gathered in Berlin for a Congress of Powers amid high tensions. The Germans had recently invaded France, Russia was demanding Turkey respect the rights of Christians and Turkey was stoking British fears that Russia meant to invade India. Much rested on the tact of Britain’s Prime Minister, Lord Beaconsfield — which was just what his aides were afraid of.
An amateur composer once asked Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart how he thought of his lovely music and — for one performance only — the maestro told him.
In April 1789, Mozart quitted Vienna and embarked on a tour that took him to Prague, Berlin, Leipzig, Potsdam and Dresden. In the course of his travels he made the acquaintance of Baron V—, an amateur musician who subsequently sent him a song, a symphony and a bottle of wine. The Baron also asked him how he thought up his own wonderful music, and Mozart, most unusually, told him.