Eclectic Letters #2 — Esmé Partridge
Basil Willey's Century Series, a forgotten 60s crime thriller, ambient techno, Irish stained glass, an 80s singer-songwriter, Zwanietime!, Samuel Rogers's poetry, and memorable Unitarians
The writer and researcher Esmé Partridge gives her picks.
Basil Willey’s Century Series
If you’ve been searching for a sweeping grand narrative of intellectual history à la Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation, look no further than Basil Willey’s 17th, 18th and 19th Century “background” books. When I rave about these in front of boomers, they hasten to tell me that the series was standard assigned reading for Cambridge undergraduates in the 70s, as if to suggest that they are not especially remarkable. But I think they are a masterpiece. Willey’s analysis of how the idea (or rather ideal) of “nature” subtly changed throughout the Early Modern period is especially acute. And the way he writes, ah! I have a piece of scrap paper on which I make note of all of the brilliant phrases he uses like “lit by the familiar illuminations of time”, “inspired guess” and “torrential elegance”. Somehow he manages to pull all of these off without sounding even slightly pretentious.
Old Hall, New Hall by Michael Innes (J.I.M. Stewart)
I don’t have a habit of reading random crime paperbacks from the 1960s, but this cover caught my eye in a book stall on Cambridge marketplace and has not disappointed. The story follows a young academic called Colin Clout who receives a “Shufflebotham Fellowship” to research the history of his university, “Old Hall”: a former Georgian stately home somewhere in the North of England. It transpires that the former owner of the hall was involved in a wager involving some Caucasian treasure which may or may not be buried on campus. Clout ends up deep in the mystery because he has fallen for a descendant of the family, the elusive Olivia Jory, and thinks he will win her over if he finds her ancestral treasure. There’s an air of hilarious futility about the whole plot, but the constant literary references and eccentric characters keep you gripped throughout. Prose sample:
“Sir John came over and sat beside Clout, thoughtfully bringing a plate of plum-cake with him. ‘Know’, he asked, ‘about this Shufflebum business?’
Clout was nonplussed. He didn’t know whether this perversion of the late alderman’s name was inadvertent and to be discreetly corrected, or whether it was a jest with that eighteenth-century flavour in which a baronet of ancient lineage might suitably indulge. ‘Yes, sir, I know about it,’ he finally said. ‘In fact, it’s me who’s to do the writing.’”
I think the reason I’m enjoying this so much is that it reminds me of my favourite director Stephen Poliakoff’s debut film Hidden City (1987), in which a statistician (Charles Dance) is persuaded by a mysterious young woman to investigate a wartime conspiracy which they uncover through archive footage and photographs. It’s set in the City of London and features haunting shots of Holborn Viaduct and the disused tunnel under Aldwych Kingsway near the Strand. Like the Innes book, it’s a blend of history and unconsummated romance that feels quintessentially English to me.
Schmoov! — Playground
Few know this, but when I was 18-20 I lived with my DJ-adjacent uncle, and during this time my music taste was shaped (and possibly destroyed) by his collection of ambient techno records. I had the flat to myself most of the time and was desperately lonely, so on the weekends I would go through all his vinyls and editions of Muzik Magazine with reviews from independent labels based out of places like Portsmouth. Occasionally I still do this, albeit digitally, and recently came across this, Playground by Schmoov!. I really do think there’s a certain artistry about this kind of music — e.g., the way this track will never give you the full gratification of a minor chord. The synths waver there for a moment, getting you all excited, but then slip straight back to that atonal suspense. Despite this, Playground is surprisingly danceable.
Virginia Astley — A Summer Long Since Passed
In sharp musical contrast, I also discovered this song by the 1980s English singer-songwriter Virginia Astley (through my AI-generated Spotify “daylist”, on this particular occasion entitled “ambient pastoral Thursday evening” — I want to write something about the absurdity of these soon). I’ve spent the past few months working on a report about parish churches in England so the bells and choir in this made for a suitable editing soundtrack.
Zwanie Jonson
I know this is supposed to be a multidisciplinary mixtape and not an actual one, so sorry for three songs, but I couldn’t not include my musical find of the year, the German “experimental pop” artist Zwanie Jonson. This is my favourite from his 2007 album It's Zwanietime!, but I also love the tracks G.M. June and Queen of My Life (which contains the utterly ridiculous lyrics, “I like water / but I’m not a swimmer”).
Funny story though: after becoming obsessed with It’s Zwanietime!, I went on a hunt for his other albums, one of which (I’m a Sunshine, 2011) isn’t on Spotify. I emailed Zwanie asking if I could buy it directly from him, but got an autoreply in German. So then I found a secondhand copy from a guy in Berlin on Discogs (who had a minimum spend policy, meaning I had to buy a bunch of random downtempo compilations to meet the $15 criteria). Me and my fiancé eagerly put on the CD as soon as it arrived and… I’m sorry, but it was quite possibly the worst album I’ve ever heard in my life. The textures are absolute chaos — literally out of tune in parts, sounding as though a child had mixed all the colours of paint together and ended up with beige sludge. There are harmonicas randomly bursting in out of nowhere. So, I think Zwanie must have had a flash of inspiration in 2007 and then his muse was nowhere to be found again. Many such cases.
The stained glass of Harry Clarke
I recently found myself in an ‘oriental tea house’ in Dublin surrounded by the stained glass windows of the 19th-century Irish artist Harry Clarke. Bejewelled, and quite Persianate but also reminiscent of early Disney illustrations, his take on Art Nouveau is absolutely enchanting.


Memorable Unitarians
For the past few months I’ve been dipping in and out of a book called “Memorable Unitarians”, which contains over a hundred biographies of Non-Trinitatian Christians spanning from the 19th Century all the way back to the 5th (they use the term “unitarian” very liberally and anachronistically indeed). Entries include major unitarian personalities such as the Spanish Renaissance heretic Michael Servetus (who discovered pulmonary circulation), Joseph Priestly (who discovered oxygen — coincidence?), John Locke, Isaac Newton, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, as well as numerous obscure ones who might well have been completely forgotten if it weren't for this anthology. I’ve found that these entries attest to the fact that heresy is, very often, motivated by a desire for spiritual purity. These individuals were not defying Christian orthodoxy out of a lack of religious conviction, or even really a "scepticism" in the sense that we tend to associate with Protestant rationalism. Rather, they believed that their absolute monotheism was the purest form of piety, giving them a particular kind of zeal — a "zeal for the Divine unity", as put in the entry on the Irish Unitarian writer Thomas Amory:
“In one of his books he defines in what oddness consists, namely: “in spirit, freedom of thought, a zeal for the Divine Unity, a taste for what is natural or romantic, and the like;” and he adds: “May it be written on my stone, ‘Here lies an odd man’.”
I’ve been enjoying my faded turquoise 1906 edition with its disintegrating spine and storage cupboard smell, but, thanks to the generosity of the official UK Unitarian organisation, you can read the entire thing in PDF form online.
The Poetry of Samuel Rogers
Relatedly, many of the great unitarians were poets. The obvious one is Coleridge (who later became Anglican, though Memorable Unitarians really tries to downplay this). Another is his lesser-known contemporary Samuel Rogers, whose charming, fairytale-esque poem The Pleasures of Memory (1796) is an underrated work of English romanticism. It starts with the scene of a village fête at dusk, before turning towards a haunted manor house which abounds with “household deities” from nursery rhymes:
Twilight’s soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their ancient oak
The peasants flock'd to hear the minstrel play,
And games and carols clos'd the busy day.
Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more
With treasur'd tales and legendary lore.
All, all are fled; nor mirth nor music flows
To chase the dreams of innocent repose.
All, all are fled; yet still I linger here!
What secret charms this silent spot endear?
Mark yon old Mansion, frowning thro' the trees,
Whose hollow turret woos the whistling breeze.
That casement, arch'd with ivy's brownest shade,
First to these eyes the light of heav'n convey'd.
The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court,
Once the calm scene of many a simple sport;
When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new,
And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew.
See thro' the fractur'd pediment reveal'd,
Where moss inlays the rudely-sculptur'd shield,
The martin's old, hereditary nest.
Long may the ruin spare its hallow'd guest!
The entire poem, complete with original illustrations of crumbling churches and cherubim, can be read online.
“Hail, Memory, hail! thy universal reign, Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain.”
Esmé Partridge is a writer and researcher working at the intersection of religion, philosophy, and politics.
Esmé’s academic work has appeared in the Temenos Academy Review and the Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi Society. Outside of academia, she has contributed to The Critic, The European Conservative, First Things, Renovatio, the Royal Society of Arts, Theos Think Tank, and UnHerd among other publications.
See her website here.