Here we explore the safety issues in 19th century shipping that Plimsoll wanted to address, his campaigning on maritime safety, and its ongoing impact.
Enormous growth in world trade meant 19th century merchant shipping became increasingly competitive. Despite the ‘Lloyd’s Rule’, introduced by Lloyd’s Register in 1835, stipulating that classed vessels should have a distance from the waterline to the weather deck of 3 inches of freeboard for every foot of depth in the hold, many transatlantic ships were still overloaded by their unscrupulous owners in order to maximise profits, as the rule was only optional.
Often overinsured, many of these overloaded wooden sailing ships were also often unseaworthy, worth more to their owners sunk than afloat. Usually old and riddled with wood-rot, woodworm and shipworm, many were repainted, renamed and falsely stated to be new ships.
The subsequent risks to crew members lives led to such ships being nicknamed ‘coffin ships’. Indeed at the time there had been over 2,000 cases of sailors who had signed on as crew being tried in court for refusing to board a ship upon seeing its condition, and in 1855 a group of sailors had even written to Queen Victoria complaining of being found guilty of desertion for complaining about going to sea in dangerous ships.
After leaving school early, Samuel Plimsoll became a clerk and later manager at Rawson’s Brewery. Yet having failed in his attempt to become a London coal merchant, Plimsoll was reduced to destitution in 1853 – an experience that helped him sympathise with the struggles of the poor. When his life picked up, he resolved to devote his time to improving their condition. After becoming a Liberal MP for Derby in 1867, Plimsoll investigated ship safety and was shocked upon discovering the scale of life lost at sea.
Aware of growing widespread concerns about the unsafe loading of ships and the many thousands of lives and ships being lost, together with his wife Eliza Plimsoll (an equal partner in the cause), Samuel led a decades-long legal, social, and political battle for justice against ‘coffin ships’. He campaigned to pass a bill for the introduction of a mandatory safe load line on ships.
Left: Samuel Plimsoll. Right: Portrait of Samuel Plimsoll (1824-1898), painted by Reginald Henry Campbell
Image Credit: Left: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain. Right: Wikimedia Commons / Reginald Henry Campbell / Royal Museums Greenwich / Public Domain
Plimsoll was unsuccessful due to opposition from merchants and the number of powerful ship-owning MPs in Parliament. Undeterred, he published a book in 1872 called Our Seamen which detailed evidence of reckless overloading, the poor condition of boat hulls and equipment, undermanning, filthy crew accommodation, the prevalence of over-insurance and the deliberate sinking of unsound and unprofitable ‘coffin ships’.
Plimsoll’s book became nationally well-known, prompting a campaign that led to the appointment of a Royal Commission on Unseaworthy Ships in 1873, to assess evidence and recommend changes. While associated with Plimsoll, load lines had been used dating back to the 12th century in Venice, but it wasn’t until the 19th century that their use became more widespread.
In 1874 Lloyd’s Register made it a condition of their classification that a load line was painted on newly built awning deck steamers. This original load line was a diamond with a centre line and the letters ‘L’ and ‘R’ next to it, and aimed to show how low a ship could safely rest in water without the risk of sinking. However, this only applied to ships inspected by Lloyd’s Register, and other ships could do as they pleased.
A plimsoll line – load line mark and lines on the hull of a ship
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Flickr by Brinki / cc-by-sa-2.0
In 1875 a government bill was introduced to address the problem, and although Plimsoll regarded it inadequate, resolved to accept it. However, after Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli later announced the bill would be dropped, Plimsoll called members of the House “villains” and shook his fist in the Speaker’s face. Disraeli called for him to be reprimanded, but after the matter was adjourned for a week, Plimsoll apologised.
Nevertheless, many people shared Plimsoll’s view that the bill had been stifled by the pressure of the shipowners. Ultimately, the power of public feeling forced the government to pass the Unseaworthy Ships Bill, eventually resulting in the The Merchant Shipping Act 1876.
The Merchant Shipping Act 1876 required all foreign-going British vessels, coasting vessels over 80 tons and foreign ships using British ports to have compulsory deck lines and load lines marked on their hull to indicate the maximum depth to which the ship may be safely immersed when loaded with cargo. (This depth varies depending on the ship’s dimensions, cargo type, time of year, and water saltiness and densities it would encounter while at port and at sea. Once these factors have been accounted for, a ship’s captain can determine the appropriate ‘Plimsoll line’ needed for the voyage.)
Stringent powers of inspection were given to the Board of Trade to enforce this rule, however fierce opposition meant the act was misused by many as it was left to ship owners to decide where a load line was to be painted and to paint the lines themselves (with some even painting these on the ship’s funnel). To overcome this, data on vessels’ strength and construction was gathered by Lloyd’s Register surveyors, and used to draw up the UK’s Board of Trade Load Line Tables in 1886 to ensure the fixing of the position of the Load Line on all ships by law in 1890 – this line became known as the ‘Plimsoll Line’ in Britain.
Despite being re-elected at 1880 general election by a great majority, Samuel Plimsoll gave up his seat to William Vernon Harcourt, believing that Harcourt, as Home Secretary, could advance sailors’ interests more effectively. Having then been offered a seat by 30 constituencies, Plimsoll unsuccessfully stood in Sheffield Central in 1885, but later became estranged from the Liberal leaders, regarding them as having neglected the question of shipping reform. Nevertheless, thanks to Plimsoll’s campaigning, countless lives and ships have since been saved.
By the early 1900s, many countries had adopted their own loading regulations, yet in 1906, foreign ships were required to carry a load line if they visited British ports. In 1930, the first International Convention on Load Lines established an international solution. Later, in 1966, the International Maritime Organization (IMO), a UN agency responsible for ship safety, adopted a new Convention ensuring ships had enough reserve buoyancy and covering, allowing freeboard for a ship in different climate zones and seasons via a load line zone map:
Load line and Freeboard conference from the Lloyd’s Register publication, 100A1, 100A1, 1959
Image Credit: Lloyd’s Register Foundation
The original ‘Plimsoll line’ was a circle with a horizontal line through it to show the maximum draft of a ship. Additional marks have been added over the years, allowing for different water densities and expected sea conditions. Letters may also appear to the sides of the mark indicating the classification society that surveyed the vessel’s load line.
Load Line Mark and Lines and Timber Load Line Mark and Lines for power driven merchant vessels. (TF – Tropical Fresh Water, F – Fresh Water, T – Tropical Seawater, S – Summer Temperate Seawater (NB – The ‘Plimsoll Line’ and the ‘Summer Line’ are the same thing – all the other lines take their positions from there), W – Winter Temperate Seawater, WNA – Winter North Atlantic Prefix, L – Lumber, L ⦵ R – Lloyd’s Register)
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons /
Now, when a ship is commissioned, the exact location of the load line is calculated by a classification society, its position on the hull is verified and a load line certificate is issued. Calculations take into account the route the ship will take, and the seasons and sea temperature conditions of the geographic locations the ship will pass through en-route to its destination to ensure its adequate stability. The basic symbol, of a circle with a horizontal line passing through its centre, is now recognised worldwide.
You can find out more about the history of Lloyd’s Register Foundation and their work supporting research, innovation and education to help the global community tackle the most pressing safety and risk challenges at www.lrfoundation.org.uk
]]>Here we explore more about how merchants ensured quality control following The Great Debasement to prove that their coins, and the coins they were trading with, were accurate – and the importance of this in England’s credibility in global trade.
During the reign of King Henry VIII, England faced significant economic changes, notably marked by the Great Debasement. The Great Debasement refers to a deliberate policy undertaken by Henry VIII to devalue the currency as a means to bolster the royal treasury and address financial woes.
In order to increase revenue for the Crown, from 1544, Henry VIII began reducing the amount of precious metal in gold coins. This act aimed to create more coins from the same quantity of silver, effectively increasing the money supply. However, the consequence was a decline in the value of currency, leading to inflation and economic instability.
The process of debasement continued with subsequent reductions in the silver content of coins. In some cases, the precious metal content was replaced almost entirely with cheaper base metals such as copper. This policy had a profound impact on the economy, resulting in rising prices, economic uncertainty, disruption of trade, and a loss of public trust in the currency.
While the Great Debasement temporarily aided the Crown’s financial situation, it ultimately contributed to economic turmoil and long-term consequences for England’s monetary system, requiring subsequent monarchs to address and stabilise the currency.
The accuracy of a coin’s value was not just important internally, but also of upmost importance for merchants trading oversees – both for their personal credibility and indeed the credibility of the nation.
The devalued currency caused by the Great Debasement led to a decline in the purchasing power of English coins abroad. This made English goods more expensive for foreign buyers, diminishing the competitiveness of English exports in international markets. As a result, England faced challenges in maintaining its previous levels of trade and struggled to sustain favourable trade balances with other countries.
Furthermore, the fluctuating value of the currency caused uncertainty for foreign merchants and traders engaging in commerce with England. The diminished value of English coins made transactions and negotiations complicated, affecting trust and confidence in trade dealings.
Merchants’ Scales and Weights, probably made in the mid-17th century in Cologne
Image Credit: Brandeis University / Robert D. Farber University Archives and Special Collections
The recovery of English trade after the Great Debasement was gradual and spanned several decades. Subsequently, to cover their backs, 17th century merchants carried their own scales and weights to do quality control checks themselves, proving and verifying that their coins, and the coins they were trading with, were accurate. They also used ‘merchant books’ which detailed all of the characteristics, dimensions and weights that coins should be, as well as featuring drawings of all their coins.
During the late 16th and early 17th centuries, under the reign of Elizabeth I, England began to witness a resurgence in trade. On ascending to power, Elizabeth I restored coins back to an accurate value, restoring faith in England’s coins. However, it’s hard to overstate just how much the Great Debasement had affected trade relations and the way in which foreign merchants, and foreign countries viewed England’s coinage.
Coins from the reign of Elizabeth I
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
However, eventually the Elizabethan Era saw significant advancements in trade and commerce. England’s maritime exploration, including voyages led by explorers like Sir Francis Drake and Walter Raleigh, opened up new trade routes and expanded commercial opportunities. Additionally, the establishment of trading companies, such as the East India Company in 1600, further bolstered England’s trade endeavours, leading to economic growth and prosperity. This would not have happened should the Great Debasement have still been in effect.
]]>Here we take a look at The Royal Mint’s archive of Henry VIII’s ‘coppernose’ coins, and explore more about The Great Debasement and how its economic effects continued for many years.
The main aim of the policy was to increase revenue for the Crown at the cost of taxpayers through savings in currency production, with less bullion being required to mint new coins. This was achieved by reducing the amount of precious metal in gold and silver coins and, in some cases, replacing it almost entirely with cheaper base metals such as copper.
In May 1544, Henry VIII’s debased coins entered circulation and by July of the same year, foreign merchants had discovered the reduced value of the newly minted silver groats and begun offering a lower price for them. Non-debased coins with an accurate value were often hoarded which took them out of circulation and further exacerbated the problem of an inaccurate currency. This ruined the credibility of British merchants and of the crown itself.
The thin layer of silver on Henry’s debased testoons had a tendency to wear off, particularly over the protruding nose of his portrait, revealing the copper colour underneath – earning Henry the nickname of ‘Old Coppernose’.
Coins from the reign of Henry VIII
As a result of The Great Debasement, when Elizabeth I came to power in 1558, the poor quality of England’s coinage had greatly affected both confidence in the monarchy as well as the country’s trading relations. The Queen believed that these problems could be solved by restoring England’s coinage to its previously high standards.
In 1560, debased coinage began to be withdrawn from circulation and the withdrawn coins melted down and replaced with newly minted coins with an accurate value. This process was aided in 1561 by trials into producing coinage using machinery as a method to replace the crude system of hammer struck coins, and The Crown even made an estimated profit of £50,000. The success of the initiative and the restoration of the integrity of England’s coinage led to economic recovery and an expansion in trade.
Elizabeth restored the coins back to an accurate value which restored faith in England’s coins, but it’s hard to overstate just how much The Great Debasement had affected trade relations and the way in which foreign merchants, and foreign countries viewed England’s coinage. To cover their backs, merchants would carry their own scales and weights to prove that their coins, and the coins they were trading with, were accurate.
]]>The accurate value and quality of coins produced by The Royal Mint is determined through the Trial of the Pyx. Here we explore how coins are tested, and the role the Trial plays in ensuring The Royal Mint maintains the highest level of quality when producing the nation’s coinage.
The Trial of the Pyx is a procedure which has taken place since 1282 and is an annual judicial ceremony to test and ensure that The Royal Mint’s newly minted coins meet the required standards.
The Trial is held every February and is judged by a jury of over six assayers from the Company of Goldsmiths, who are independent from The Royal Mint. After the coins have been inspected and judged for their weight, diameter, and composition, the verdict is then read aloud by the Clerk of the Goldsmiths’ Company at the instruction of the Senior Master and Queen’s Remembrancer – an ancient post created in 1154 by Henry II, and the oldest judicial position still in existence.
This verdict is received by the Chancellor of the Exchequer under their capacity of Master of the Mint. In the past, if the coinage is found to be substandard, the trial carried a variety of punishments for the Master of the Mint, including a fine, removal from office, or imprisonment. However, these do not happen today.
One of the most famous, and most controversial, examples surrounding the inaccurate value of coins comes from the 1710 Trial of the Pyx, where Isaac Newton’s coins were found to not contain enough gold.
In 1696, Sir Isaac Newton moved from his post at Cambridge University to London to first become the Warden of The Royal Mint, and three years later, the Master of the Mint.
Portrait of Sir Isaac Newton
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
The role of Master of the Mint had traditionally been a ceremonial one, however, Newton wanted to make a contribution. He encouraged the engravers to up-skill themselves by taking on outside work, increasing the quality of their coins which also made them more difficult to counterfeit. Newton also started fastidiously pursuing counterfeiters through the courts which resulted in The Royal Mint gaining the reputation of one of the most trustworthy and accurate Mints in the world.
Note from Sir Isaac Newton re a Draft Submission
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
Therefore, when Newtons coins were judged as being below the required standard and not containing enough gold in the 1710 Trial of the Pyx, Newton reacted angrily, and set about proving the judgement procedure as faulty.
The coins in question had been compared with a new gold Trial of the Pyx Plate, introduced in 1707, and Newton managed to prove that it was in fact the plate that contained too much gold, and therefore his coins were not below the required standard. As a result, the earlier trial plate of 1688 was returned to use.
1688 Gold Trial Plate
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
Henry VII’s reign, commencing in the tumultuous aftermath of the Wars of the Roses, was characterised by the urgent need for stability and legitimacy. Amidst the political turbulence, the gold sovereign emerged not merely as a means of trade but as a meticulously crafted tool of statecraft, bearing the weight of monarchic authority and projecting an image of prosperity and control.
Here we explore how and why Henry VII used English coinage to help convey his power across his kingdom.
After defeating his Yorkist adversary Richard III, last of the Plantagenets, at the Battle of Bosworth Field, Henry Tudor was officially crowned King Henry VII on 30 October 1485. His coronation heralded the end of the bloody Wars of the Roses and brought in a new line of monarchs, with Henry VII being the first of the Tudor dynasty.
Henry VII was the last king of England to win his throne on the battlefield, and his coronation brought much-needed peace to the country after three decades of conflict. With it came the end of the medieval period. Such a monumental achievement spelled an equally monumental shift in power and – much like the monarchs that came before him – Henry VII was keen to convey this power and establish his authority.
Henry did this in part through the currency of his kingdom. As well as reintroducing more realistic portraiture on English coinage, a practice that had not been seen consistently since the Romans, Henry VII also brought several new coins into the English currency, including the iconic gold Sovereign – the first £1 piece in English history. Introduced in 1489 when Henry VII demanded a ‘new money of gold’, whilst the gold Sovereign wasn’t the first gold coin to be struck, it was the largest and most valuable English coin ever issued at that point.
The original design featured an image depicting Henry VII sat on his throne – complete with a crown, orb and sceptre – whilst the reverse displayed the Royal Arms atop a backdrop dominated by the unmistakable Tudor rose. This new coin symbolised power, and reinforced Henry VII’s authority as a new monarch.
This Sovereign features a huge Tudor rose that covers the whole of one side (tails) of it – a symbol of Henry VII, his house and his reign. Everything about this coin is hugely symbolic, and all trying to solidify Henry VII’s power. On the head’s side of the coin is Henry himself, sat on the throne wearing all the royal regalia – including the crown and holding an orb and sceptre. Everything about this coin is trying to cement Henry’s power as the new king, which was particularly important given the country had been in civil war for the past 30 years.
Henry VII gold Sovereign, front and back
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
Indeed Henry VII’s reign was characterised by his success at restoring the power and stability of the English monarchy after the civil war, as well as his talent for replenishing the fortunes of an effectively bankrupt exchequer.
When Henry VII ascended the throne in 1485, he faced the immediate challenge of securing his reign – and the Tudor Dynasty – against political and economic rebellions. Recognising the pivotal role of revenue in establishing stability, he sought to finance a robust royal army.
Historically, the Crown had relied on the slow-moving Exchequer for its financial needs, and initially Henry reverted to using this. However, audits could take years to complete, meaning the Crown was always short of money. By 1487, Henry’s financial struggles prompted him to modernise royal income collection by appointing the King’s Chamber as the principal institution managing royal revenue.
This relatively new institution had previously been utilised by the Yorkist family, when Edward IV used it to run his finances. Whilst the Chamber lacked fully-established operating procedures, its comparatively more informal processes actually gave it greater flexibility. The Chamber went on to take charge of nearly all aspects of royal income, and effectively oversaw the national treasury, while the Privy Chamber handled Henry’s personal expenditure.
Henry was one of the few monarchs to process his own accounts, keeping meticulous records, and even counting bags of coins himself to scrutinise finances and balance the books. Henry ensured he appointed expert advisors with financial acumen, with two men, Sir Thomas Lovell and Sir John Heron, holding the post of Treasurer of the Chamber. However Henry also worked alongside both men, checking the accounts they had already gone over, and personally signing-off each page. Rather than this being a miserly act, Henry’s scrutiny reflected his focus on wealth accumulation for control, influence and power.
Bronze medallion of Sir Thomas Lovell in Henry VII Chapel, Westminster Abbey, 1911 – by Arthur Irwin Dasent.
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Arthur Irwin Dasent / Public Domain
Henry VII’s tenure marked a departure from medieval financial systems, and he is credited with shaping the modern English Exchequer. As well as maximising tax revenue, Henry also gained wealth from an illicit trade in the dye-fixed alum, and benefitted from the peace facilitated by the end of the Wars of the Roses.
His resulting substantial wealth accumulation and financial prudence meant Henry was able to leave a considerable inheritance to his son and successor, Henry VIII. However, Henry VIII would not turn out to be as prudent.
]]>Cromwell’s astute leadership within the Parliamentarian forces not only secured victory but also paved the way for his governance during the Commonwealth era, with his image gracing English coins made by The Royal Mint – a testament to his stature and the imprint of his rule on the nation’s identity and currency.
Here we explore how Cromwell’s portrait became a symbol of authority and change on English coinage post-Civil War, and why these coins developed from a puritan to royalist style, reflecting the transformational era he heralded in English history.
The English Civil War had erupted due to escalating tensions between King Charles I and Parliament over issues of power, taxation, and religion. Parliament’s desire for more authority clashed with the king’s absolute rule. The conflict polarised supporters into Royalists (Cavaliers) backing the king and Parliamentarians (Roundheads) supporting Parliament.
Battles ensued across England, with Oliver Cromwell emerging as a prominent figure in the Parliamentarian army. The war culminated in the king’s defeat, his execution in 1649, the establishment of the Commonwealth under Cromwell’s rule, and a period of political upheaval and experimentation.
One of the biggest changes to English currency came when there wasn’t actually have a monarch to depict on its coins.
Up until Charles I’s reign, coins had all been very regal, but following his execution, England entered into a period called the interregnum where it didn’t have a monarch.
In 1649, the coinage of the Commonwealth under the rule of Parliament reflected Parliament’s deeply Puritan beliefs, and were also very heraldic. The wording appeared in English rather than Latin and the monarch’s portraiture was abandoned, resulting in a very heraldic coin, featuring the cross of St George on both sides.
Coins from Cromwell’s reign
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
After Cromwell took direct control in the 1650s, this Commonwealth and Puritan style was abandoned, and towards the end of his time as Lord Protector there was a complete reversion to the more familiar, royalist style of coinage, including coins featuring a portrait of Oliver Cromwell. The portrait depicted Cromwell almost like a Roman emperor, wearing a wreath, robes, and featured Latin inscriptions once more. This reversion to the familiar iconography of royal rule, without referencing Cromwell as king, was part of making the country feel at ease with Cromwell’s rule.
Roman emperors ruled as kings, however they actively distanced themselves from the term ‘King’ in order to avoid comparisons to the earlier monarchy of Rome. Julius Caesar even rejected the title when offered it. Rome’s republic was founded on anti-monarchical views so the avoidance of the title of ‘King’ allowed an emperor to keep up a false narrative of non- autocratic rule, despite the emperor very much holding the power.
There are many similarities between Britain’s interregnum period and Rome’s transition from a monarchy to republic to empire including the anti-monarchical stance which caused the change. Therefore, it’s incredibly fitting for Cromwell to have depicted himself as a Roman emperor. England had killed Charles I, the last king, and therefore Cromwell had to be very careful not to portray himself as a king.
Cromwell, depicted in the style of a Roman Emperor
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
Cromwell’s coins were developed further throughout his reign to include royal iconography on the reverse of them, including a crown, which perfectly exemplifies his delicate balance of not being stylised as a king but still showing the authority of a true monarch.
After the eventual restoration of the monarchy in 1660 under Charles II, the wearing of a wreath in this Roman emperor style became a general stylistic trend for monarchs over the next few centuries.
The first coins of Queen Victoria also follow this style, showing her bareheaded, but in the 1840s a hugely significant moment came where Victoria was shown on coins wearing a crown. This was the first time The Royal Mint had struck British coins showing a monarch wearing a crown since the start of the reign of Charles II.
For the rest of her reign Victoria tended to be shown as wearing various different crowns.
However, the kings that followed Victoria’s reign, starting with Edward VII, all went back to being depicted uncrowned on British coins. They wore no royal regalia, not even a wreath like the kings before Victoria had done. Instead, coins depicted just a simple portrait of them.
This practice lasted until Queen Elizabeth II, who’s portrait followed a similar trajectory to Victoria’s – wearing a laurel wreath on coins at the start of her reign, with further coins later on all with her wearing a tiara or crown.
The majority of Charles III’s new coins do not feature a crown, however some do, making him the first king to be shown crowned on British coins since Charles II.
]]>Every monarch in the UK is featured on notes and coins, in a tradition going back many many centuries. But due to the short length of Edward VIII’s reign and lack of formal coronation, no coinage bearing his portrait was ever released into circulation. Here we explore how The Royal Mint, who make and distribute the UK’s coins, handled such a controversy.
Edward VIII was born on 23 June 1894, and was the eldest son of King George V and Queen Mary. In 1910 he was created Prince of Wales, and was later educated at the Royal Naval College and Magdalen College Oxford before undertaking many popular overseas tours. He succeeded his father as king in January 1936.
Edward VIII, King of the United Kingdom and Emperor of India, was adamant that he wanted to marry Wallis Simpson, an unpopular American two-time divorcee. Yet as monarch of the UK, Edward by extension was the head of the Church of England, and under the rules of the Church of England at this time, his marriage to Simpson was forbidden.
Rather than retain his position and sacrifice his relationship, Edward VIII abdicated on 10 December 1936, executing an Instrument of Abdication which was given legal effect the following day. He announced, live on the radio:
“I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as King as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.”
King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson on holiday in Yugoslavia, 1936.
Edward VIII’s abdication forced his younger brother Albert into the role of king, under the title King George VI. The abdication sparked a constitutional crisis in Britain, severely wounding public confidence in the monarchy and leading to widespread outrage.
Edward had wanted his coronation service to be shortened or to not happen at all, yet the Archbishop of Canterbury had insisted it took place. The elaborate coronation preparations took over a year to arrange, and consequently, Edward VIII’s abdication meant he was never crowned. All the arrangements that had been in hand for Edward’s coronation went ahead, and the set date of 12 May 1937 was now kept for George’s coronation.
The Royal Mint was about a month away from going into mass production, planned for January 1937. Despite not being released, Edward VIII’s coins had still gone through the entire design process of creating a new monarch’s coinage, from new reverse designs and the selection of his portrait. How Edward VIII wanted to be depicted had caused problems, and he had been a difficult man for The Royal Mint to deal with.
Arrangements for Edward VIII’s coin portrait sitting
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
There had been a tradition dating back to Charles II where each of the eleven monarchs’ portraits after him would alternate by reign, facing the opposite way as their predecessor. Edward VIII was adamant that his portrait be facing to the left, showing off his ‘better’ side, which would have made him the first monarch to have broken those centuries of tradition.
Edward VIII’s coin portrait
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
In the end this decision was irrelevant as the coins bearing his image were never released, so the general public never saw Edward VIII’s portrait on their coins. The Royal Mint sort of pretended that Edward had played ball, allowing the Royal Mint to depict his successor, George VI facing to the left, as if Edward VIII had faced right, seemingly keeping the tradition going. If you were to put the three coins in a row (the previous monarch George V, Edward VIII, George VI), the three monarchs in a row actually faced the same direction.
When Edward VIII abdicated in 1936, it was highly controversial and a huge constitutional crisis, and The Royal Mint didn’t want to seem to be tainted by the controversy.
All of the coins of his that had been minted were placed into little envelopes, and then inside a small box, labelled: ‘Not to be opened except in the presence of two senior officers of The Royal Mint’. There was an accompanying note that logged every time the box would have been accessed. The box was then wrapped up with string, and the string was then sealed off with wax, which could help show if anybody had tried to access it.
Box containing Edward VIII coins that had been in The Royal Mint’s deputy master’s safe for about 30 years.
Image Credit: The Royal Mint
The little box of coins then sat at the back of the deputy master’s safe for about 30 years, before finally being allowed to enter the light of day in the 1970s and come into The Royal Mint Museum’s collection.
The resulting coins of all the trials, tests and the patterns that had gone into developing the new monarch’s coinage but didn’t go into production are very, very rare – so much so that The British Museum even had to borrow some of the pieces from The Royal Mint to display, as they don’t have any of the coins in their own collection. Ironically Edward VIII’s coins are now the most valuable coins in The Royal Mint’s collection.
]]>In this 3-part series, History Hit’s medieval expert, Matt Lewis, reveals the previously unknown stories of the ordinary people involved in the Peasants’ Revolt, working closely with investigative historians from the People of 1381 Project, and alongside top medieval historians, including his Gone Medieval co-host, Eleanor Janega, and Richard II biographer, Helen Castor.
In part one, Matt explores the origins of the rebellion, and the explosive days preceding the violent attack on London on the 13 June 1381.
In the late 14th century, although towns and cities were growing, England’s population was primarily rural. Around 80-85% of the entire medieval European population was classed as a ‘peasant’. The term meant someone was a farmer, but within this categorisation, economic status varied greatly. Some were actually prosperous landowners, even employing staff and servants, with even middle-class peasants fairly well-to-do. However, at least 50% of peasants in England were poor, struggling in subsistence farming, often living hand-to-mouth.
Wealthier peasants (sometimes wealthier than people who were technically nobles due to their land ownership) were generally free men, who could accumulate land and go to market with their goods; ‘serfs’, the lower class of peasants, were tied to their lord’s land, and subject to many restrictions.
In this feudal world, authorities were rarely challenged from below, yet by 1381, escalating taxation had made life increasingly harder for most peasants. The 14th century is generally considered one of the worst times to be alive due to a combination of bad weather (affecting crops, livestock and resulting in the Great Famine), the Black Death, and the ongoing Hundred Years’ War, when many were directed to go to France to fight for the king. Taxation, necessary for funding the war effort, emerged as a central grievance, sparking the Peasant’s Revolt.
The people of Tournai bury victims of the Black Death – by Pierart dou Tielt, circa 1353
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain
By Spring 1381, sporadic rioting had occurred in Winchester, Salisbury, Shrewsbury and York against increased taxes. On 30 May in Brentwood, Essex, a royal tax commissioner was forced to flee after peasants, led by Thomas Baker, refused to pay additional taxes and drew weapons upon him. Tensions were high.
The tithe, a church tax, required individuals to pay 10% of their income annually. It was often collected at harvest time, usually in a Tithe Barn, enabling people to pay in produce instead of money if needed.
Government taxes, mainly for funding things such as foreign wars, were collected through a fractional tax system. A tax collector would come round every couple of years, assess a peasant’s ‘moveable goods’ (i.e. such as money or other possessions), assess its worth, and charge a percentage of it, usually 10%. Similar to income taxes nowadays, it was reasonably fair.
However, at this time, England was fighting the Hundred Years’ War against France which had strained finances, and the king needed to raise more money. This led to the introduction of the first Poll Tax in 1377. This set a flat rate of 4 pence for everybody over age 14, but whilst this was a day or two’s wages for a labourer, it was virtually nothing to a nobleman. The poll tax didn’t raise as much revenue as expected, although some wealthy clergy voluntarily paid more to help the poor.
Gradually, the church’s tax office became the government’s tax office. In 1379, a second, much more progressive poll tax was introduced, including 33 layers of payment. Whilst still a flat rate, it sought to build on the overpayment by wealthy clergy last time, with payments ranging from 6 pounds, 13 shillings and 4 pence for the richest, to 4 pence for the poorest. Nevertheless the tax was a failure and faced resistance, with the population magically ‘shrinking’ as people hid family members from tax collectors.
In 1381, another poll tax was imposed, back in the form of another unpopular flat-rate tax, demanding 12 pence from every person over the age of 16. Such a large sum was a crushing burden to regular people, sparking widespread suffering and fears of starvation, igniting open revolt. A peasant could be killed by their lord for revolting, but the fact so many risked life and death by doing so highlights how they felt they had no other option.
After the events at Brentwood, Essex on 30 May 1381, tensions escalated. A meeting convened in Thomas Baker’s home village of Fobbing on 2 June, attracting widespread support from those ready to make a stand.
On 4 June 1381 the Essex rebels launched an attack on Lesnes Abbey in Kent, targeting tax records crucial for control and taxation by the Church and Crown. This destruction sparked a coordinated revolt, necessitating military expertise.
Between 1370-1400, 100,000 soldiers had been deployed to France – a large portion of able-bodied men from England’s already small population. Consequently, England was full of experienced military personnel, who played a crucial role in leading the initial rebel charge. Society was also heavily armed, with archery practiced by all and peasants often possessing armour, swords, daggers, bows and arrows.
Peasant longbowmen at practice, from the Luttrell Psalter, c. 1320–1340
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Luttrell Psalter 1325 / Public Domain
The rebels were highly organised, and disseminated messages amongst peasants, leading to fires in towns and cities across England, burning crucial documents that upheld medieval society. Rochester Castle, a strategically vital fortress, fell into rebel hands after its constable, Sir John Newington, was taken hostage.
Violence escalated, and one day after the attack on Rochester, rebels reached Canterbury on 10 June – the county capital of Kent and the seat of the most powerful man in the English Church, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury. Although he wasn’t there, the rebels seized the gold and the treasure that he had accumulated, intensifying their anger.
Leaders like Wat Tyler, Jack Straw (who led the Essex rebels), and radical preacher John Ball emerged, the latter advocating for equality and having already been excommunicated for preaching against church wealth.
In need of weapons, peasants armed themselves – all would have had access to a hand-axe, along with other tools turned into makeshift weapons such as a billhook (traditionally used for pruning trees, with spikes added) and a flail (traditionally used for threshing wheat). With its mix of military and improvised weapons, the rebellion spread.
Richard II had become king aged 10, and by 1381, despite being only 14, he had been king for 4 years. In medieval England, the king’s authority and will was crucial for governance. Having such a young king meant England faced a long period with a king who in effect was too young to rule for himself. Richard’s 3 uncles had stepped-in to help govern, but were perceived as part of England’s problems, particularly John of Gaunt (Duke of Lancaster), who was ambitious and seen as self-serving.
John of Gaunt, although driven by duty to uphold the monarchy for Richard, was viewed as haughty, power-hungry and resistant to criticism or reform, bringing him into direct conflict with those opposed to what he represented. Richard himself believed in his divine rights as king, but lacked a full understanding of the responsibilities and duties his role required.
The same day Wat Tyler led his forces into Canterbury, rebels attacked Cressing Temple in Essex, looting and burning documents. Further incidents occurred at Chelmsford. The different peasant groups had communicated covertly for weeks using military-inspired codes, coordinating their movements towards London.
On 12 June, thousands of men converged on Blackheath, demanding justice and presenting their hostage, Sir John Newington, constable of Rochester Castle, as their envoy to King Richard II at the Tower of London. Newington conveyed the rebels’ grievances, informing Richard II that the rebels meant him no harm and held him as their rightful king, but believed England had not been well governed by his uncles and by the clergy.
During the rebellion, John of Gaunt was away on the northern border, responsible for defence against the Scots, and was thus too far away to do anything, leaving his property and family vulnerable. However the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, was present. As Lord Chancellor, Sudbury was effectively head of the government and had played a key role in enacting the third poll tax that triggered the revolt. Despite resigning, he remained a rebel target, as did Richard II’s uncles who’d governed during his minority.
An image from Froissart’s Chronicle of Richard II meeting the Peasants Revolt.
Image Credit: Bibliotheque Nationale de France / CC
Conflicts had been brewing in parliament over funding for the failing war effort, but government focus on internal issues meant they were blindsided by the sudden uprising of ordinary people.
On 13 June, amidst increasing chaos, King Richard II agreed to meet the rebels at Rotherhithe. However, as the royal barge approached, it was confronted by 10,000 raucous rebels, prompting fear for Richard’s safety. The Earl of Salisbury ordered the barge to turn around, further enraging the crowds, who snapped.
However, like many historical figures of his stature, Churchill’s life and actions have been marked by triumphs, controversies, and numerous myths and misconceptions. Here are 10 of some of the top myths about him.
In November 1911, a mass strike erupted in the Rhondda Valley, Wales, involving up to 30,000 miners protesting wage disparities in coal seams. Looting, notably in Tonypandy, prompted local authorities to request troops, but Churchill (Home Secretary) and Haldane (Secretary of War) instead sent additional police, with troops held in reserve nearby.
Despite accusations, Churchill did not order troops to fire on the miners. Churchill had written to the King on 10 November 1910, assuring him of maintaining order, emphasising how the Chief Constable had 1,400 police available, with an additional 500 police deployed from London. Churchill claimed that:
“No need for the employment of the military is likely to occur. They will be kept as far as possible out of touch with the population, while sufficiently near to the scene to be available if necessary…
…There appears to be no reason at present why the policy of keeping the military out of direct contact with the rioters should be departed from.”
The Times criticised Churchill’s decision, suggesting the police couldn’t handle the situation alone, and that if rioting led to the loss of life, the responsibility lay with Churchill. However, the following day, The Manchester Guardian argued Churchill’s approach had likely prevented further violence.
The Gallipoli campaign, initiated by the Allied forces in 1915, sought to control the Dardanelles Strait and establish a supply route to Russia while eliminating the Ottoman Empire from the war. However, the campaign ended in failure with substantial casualties and strategic setbacks. Despite Churchill, as First Lord of the Admiralty, advocating for a naval attack on the Dardanelles, the real driver behind the strategy was Kitchener, then Secretary of State for War.
Churchill’s optimistic assessment had overlooked key military considerations, including the strength of Ottoman defences and the challenges of amphibious assaults. Additionally, Churchill insisted on a naval-only approach, despite advice advocating a combined land and sea operation. Yet Kitchener had approved Churchill’s plan, and without adequate oversight, prioritising troops and resources for the Western Front. This lack of intervention and underestimation of logistical challenges compounded the failure.
Thus both Churchill and Kitchener bear collective responsibility: Churchill for his flawed strategy, and Kitchener for insufficient leadership.
It’s often claimed that in 1919, Churchill advocated the use of ‘poisoned gas against uncivilised tribes’ and Bolsheviks in Russia, but this is a misconception.
Whilst Britain considered using gas against rebel tribes in Northwest India and Mesopotamia (now Iraq), it was never proposed to use chlorine or phosgene. Churchill, as Minister of War, had confused the matter when using the term ‘poisoned gas’. His remarks actually referred to ‘lachrymatory gas’ (tear gas), which he saw as a humane alternative to explosives.
Churchill authorised the use of diphenylaminechloroarsine (DM) by British troops in Archangel, but only in response to Bolshevik use of recovered World War One German gas shells. However, DM’s effects were generally non-lethal. Throughout World War Two, Churchill consistently opposed the use of poison gas, but was willing to deploy it if the enemy did first. Churchill was content with this standoff, and ultimately, neither side used gas during the war.
As Secretary of State for War, Churchill was preoccupied with other matters such as Bolshevism in 1919, and had no initial involvement in the creation and recruitment of the notorious ‘Blacks and Tans’ in Ireland, a group seen as maintaining British control and suppressing the IRA. While Churchill defended their actions as responses to perceived threats, he later acknowledged the need for official reprisals as their violence escalated, seeking a balance between firmness and concessions to prevent Sinn Fein from claiming victory prematurely.
Despite his defence of the ‘Black and Tans’, Churchill played a significant role in negotiating compromises for Irish independence, and brought together warring parties, including the Lloyd George government, Irish revolutionaries, and Ulster unionists.
While working out the compromises, when Sinn Fein’s Michael Collins complained that the British had put a price on his head, Churchill showed him his framed copy of his Boer wanted poster, stating: “At any rate it was a good price, £5000. Look at me – £25 dead or alive. How would you like that?” – which made Collins laugh. This dialogue illustrates Churchill’s efforts to foster understanding and facilitate the signing of the Irish Treaty, despite their differences. Collins later acknowledged Churchill’s crucial role in their endeavours.
South African Wanted Poster placing a bounty on fugitive prisoner of war Winston Churchill in 1899.
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / South African Police / Public Domain
On 14 November 1940, Coventry was devastated by a major German bombing raid, resulting in significant civilian casualties. Churchill is often mistakenly accused of having known of the attack in advance, allegedly withholding the information to avoid revealing the German Enigma code had been broken, or to provoke America into the war.
However, while Enigma decrypts hinted at an imminent raid, code-named ‘Moonlight Sonata’, the target remained unclear. Reports suggested potential targets, including London, but specifics were lacking and Coventry not mentioned. A German pilot shot down on 9 November, under interrogation, suggested Coventry and Birmingham would be attacked, yet intelligence officers doubted the information as it was older than subsequent intelligence.
Churchill received a summary of these reports upon returning from Neville Chamberlain’s funeral, but was reassured the usual counter-measures had been prepared. Churchill then left for Ditchley Park, but was quickly informed of new intelligence indicating London as the likely target. He promptly returned to Downing Street, refusing to stay away while London faced danger.
The moment German radio beams confirmed Coventry was the target, all countermeasures were taken without delay; British bombers attacked German aerodromes, fighter patrols were deployed over Coventry, and defence preparations activated. Coventry had previously received multiple attacks which had prompted Churchill to strengthen its anti-aircraft defences. Thus on the night of 14 November, there were five times as many anti-aircraft guns per head of the population of Coventry as there were around London, and 100 British fighters were airborne. Nevertheless, Coventry suffered extensive damage.
Churchill walks through the ruins of Coventry Cathedral with J A Moseley, M H Haigh, A R Grindlay and others, 1941
Image Credit: Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons
This is another misconception. Churchill initially viewed area bombing as a regrettable but necessary response to German air raids on cities like Warsaw and Rotterdam, and as the Allies prepared for Normandy, strategic bombing became crucial to weaken Germany. However, Churchill’s stance evolved as victory edged closer, and he criticised his head of Bomber Command, Air Marshal Harris, for the Dresden and Potsdam bombings. Unlike Churchill, Harris believed in strategic bombing’s efficacy to undermine German morale, and had compiled a list of target cities for destruction.
Dresden had been targeted to aid the Russian offensive, not as revenge, due to its strategic significance and intelligence reports on Axis movements.
While millions suffered during the 1943 Bengal famine, attributing sole responsibility to Churchill for the famine’s extent is misleading and oversimplified.
As part of the British Empire, India faced British regulations on grain imports and exports, yet Churchill’s government (along with other countries), shipped hundreds of thousands of tons of grain to India to alleviate shortages exacerbated by crop failures, and by the Japanese invasion of Burma and nearby countries, which had disrupted rice supplies.
Japanese incursions, local corruption, and the hoarding of grain by merchants in the hope of higher prices all worsened the crisis, leading some historians to suggest Churchill’s actions mitigated the famine’s severity. Despite derogatory remarks against Indians attributed to Churchill in moments of frustration, cabinet records show Churchill expressed sympathy for Indian suffering, and recognised the challenges in providing additional relief during wartime. Further relief would have incurred significant difficulties elsewhere.
While Churchill played a pivotal role in guiding Britain through the war, the Allied victory was the culmination of collective efforts involving numerous leaders, military commanders, resources, and ordinary citizens from various nations.
Britain’s preparedness, including its mechanised army, advanced aircraft manufacturing, strong navy, and robust air defence system, owed much to earlier planning by Neville Chamberlain. Additionally, contributions of other Allied leaders, like US President Roosevelt and Soviet Premier Stalin, were crucial in securing victory.
Winston Churchill waving to crowds in Whitehall on 8 May 1945 celebrating the end of the war.
Image Credit: Picryl / Imperial War Museum / Public Domain
While Churchill popularised the term “Iron Curtain” in his famous 1946 speech in Fulton, Missouri, the phrase’s earliest known appearance was in Russian philosopher Vasily Rozanov’s 1918 work, Apocalypse of Our Time, where Romanov wrote of ‘an iron curtain descending on Russian history’. Author Ethel Snowden also used it in 1920 in her text, Through Bolshevik Russia.
Whilst Churchill’s first recorded use of the phrase was in a letter to President Truman in May of 1945, the phrase had already been coined by Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels in February 1945 in his propaganda publication Das Reich. Churchill’s usage of the term certainly contributed to its prominence, but he did not invent it.
Churchill’s drinking habits have been exaggerated – some label him ‘alcohol dependent’, yet while he enjoyed champagne, brandy, and whiskey (especially during periods of stress), there’s little evidence suggesting constant intoxication or impaired decision-making.
He occasionally drank hock with breakfast, and copiously at mealtimes (medical notes recommended alcohol use during convalescence), yet once won a bet abstaining from hard spirits for a year in 1936. His habit of sipping a diluted Johnnie Walker and water throughout the morning (which his daughter called the “Papa Cocktail”) stemmed from experiences in India and South Africa, as the water was unfit to drink.
Churchill did not nurse bottles, and there are no credible reports of him being intoxicated. Churchill himself exaggerated his drinking stories, yet was aware of his limits and had a contempt for excessive alcohol consumption.
When accused of being drunk by Bessie Braddock MP in 1946 (leading to Churchill’s famous retort), Churchill’s bodyguard clarified Churchill had been tired, not drunk. While Churchill’s affinity for alcohol may have been partly a prop, akin to cigars, his quip that “I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me” is true …though he did possess a formidable capacity.
]]>In our documentary, Medusa with Natalie Haynes, we ventured to the beautiful Greek island of Corfu with classicist Natalie Haynes to discover the roots of the extraordinary myth of Medusa and investigate sites closely connected – including Corfu’s spectacular Gorgon pediment, a gigantic early image of Medusa that once protected a magnificent Archaic era temple to Artemis.
The Gorgons have captured the imagination of storytellers, artists, and scholars for centuries. To understand their origin and significance, one must delve into the depths of Greek mythology and the ancient poem Theogony by the ancient Greek poet Hesiod.
Gorgons were a popular image in Greek mythology, appearing in the earliest of written records of ancient Greek religious beliefs, including the two hugely influential epic poems of ancient Greece – Homer’s The Illiad and The Odyssey. Here they were depicted as a terrifying head on the shield of Greek warrior, Agamemnon, or a monster of the underworld.
However, it was Hesiod’s Theogony that serves as a foundational text in Greek mythology, providing insights into the genealogy and origins of divine beings, and it was here that the origins of the Gorgons and their significance was explained.
According to Hesiod, the Gorgons were born from the union of the sea deities Phorcys and Ceto. Phorcys, a primordial sea god, and Ceto, a sea monster, were parents to a myriad of monstrous offspring, including the three Gorgon sisters: Stheno (the mighty), Euryale (the far-springer, or of the wide sea), and Medusa (the queen).
The Gorgon sisters were said to occupy a liminal space; their parents are sea creatures, they have wings, but dwelt on land – said to be on the farthest side of the western ocean, which some believe refers to Libya.
Among the Gorgons, Medusa occupies a central role in Greek mythology.
After two gods had vied to be the protector of Athens – with the sea god Poseidon offering the sea, and Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft, offering olive trees – Athens picked Athena.
Originally a priestess in the temple of Athena, Medusa’s life took a tragic turn when she caught the eye of Poseidon, who raped her within the sacred walls of Athena’s temple, leading to the goddess’s wrath. As a punishment for violating her sacred space, Athena punished Medusa, turning Medusa’s hair into snakes and giving her a gaze that could turn mortals to stone.
The iconography of Medusa is striking – a creature with a monstrous countenance, wings, and a head adorned with live serpents. This transformation not only punished Medusa but also served as a potent symbol of divine retribution in Greek mythology.
‘Perseus with the Head of Medusa’ by Antonio Canova(1757 – 1822) – in the Metropolitan Museum of Art
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Ad Meskens; sculpture Antonio Canova / CC BY-SA 3.0
The narrative takes a turn with the introduction of Perseus. In a classic hero’s quest, Perseus, son of Zeus, is tasked with the perilous mission of beheading Medusa – the only mortal Gorgon. Equipped with gifts from the gods – a reflective shield from Athena, winged sandals from Hermes, and a sword from Hephaestus – Perseus embarks on this daunting mission.
Guided by divine assistance, Perseus successfully decapitates Medusa without directly facing her gaze. The severed head, however, retained its petrifying power, serving as a potent weapon in subsequent mythological tales.
The Gorgons, particularly Medusa, hold rich symbolic meanings in Greek mythology. One interpretation sees Medusa as a representation of divine wrath and the consequences of violating sacred spaces. The transformation from a beautiful priestess to a monstrous Gorgon with snakes in her hair becomes a cautionary tale of the wrath of the gods.
Moreover, Medusa’s gaze turning individuals to stone can be seen as a metaphor for the inevitability of death. The petrification serves as a powerful reminder of mortality, emphasising the boundary between the mortal and divine realms.
The myth of Medusa and the Gorgons has inspired countless artistic interpretations throughout history. From ancient Greek pottery to Renaissance paintings, artists have sought to capture the allure and terror associated with these mythical beings. Notable works include Caravaggio’s Medusa, where the artist depicts the severed head with haunting realism, capturing the moment of transformation frozen in time.
On the Greek island of Corfu, a large statue of Medusa dating from 580 BC was found in the remains of the Temple of Artemis (an Archaic era and the oldest-known Greek stone temple). The statue would have been part of the pediment of the temple, and is on display at the Archaeological Museum of Corfu. It depicts this Gorgon as having wings, and as a strong woman with a wide mouth and protruding tongue (often depicting a cacophonous loud noise). It also shows Medusa’s two children: Pegasus and a golden giant.
An archaic Gorgon (around 580 BC), as depicted on a pediment from the temple of Artemis in Corfu, on display at the Archaeological Museum of Corfu
Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Archaeological Museum of Corfu / CC BY-SA 4.0
The statue’s role would have been to look down at new arrivals, protecting and impressing at the temple’s entrance. Medusa was thought to scare or protect depending on who you are. To help her achieve this, fantastical wild beasts including a ‘leo-panther’ (lion/panther) are depicted by her.
Because of their legendary and powerful gaze that could turn one to stone, in ancient Greece, images of the Gorgons (or an individual Gorgoneion – a stone head, engraving, or drawing of a Gorgon face, often with snakes protruding wildly and the tongue sticking out between her fangs) were frequently used as a talisman, and placed on doors, walls, floors, coins, shields, breastplates, tombstones, and on the ends of pipes or roofs, in the hopes of warding off evil.
In later centuries, Gorgon imagery developed from depicting a monstrous woman with a wide mouth and tongue out, to a more beautiful and sedate-looking woman, but with a couple of snakes in the hair.
The legacy of the Gorgons extends beyond ancient mythology into modern popular culture. The image of Medusa, with her serpent hair and petrifying gaze, has become a recognisable symbol in literature, art, and cinema. Whether in classical literature or contemporary fantasy novels, the Gorgons continue to captivate audiences with their otherworldly and fearsome nature, and remain a timeless exploration of human fascination with the divine, the monstrous, and the transformative power of myth.
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