Friday, 13 February 2026

The Bettertons of Hatherop, Gloucestershire: A Family History Snapshot

 

In the late eighteenth century, the quiet Gloucestershire village of Hatherop was home to a small cluster of families whose names appear again and again in the parish registers. Among them, the Bettertons stood out — not because they were wealthy or titled, but because they were numerous, rooted, and unmistakably woven into the life of the Cotswold countryside.

At the centre of this family was Richard Betterton, born around the middle of the 1700s. He lived in a world of small farms, malt houses, and inns that served the coaching roads between Cirencester, Fairford, and Burford. Richard’s sons — including William (born c.1775) and Thomas (born c.1779) — grew up in this landscape of agricultural labour, brewing, and village trade. Their lives would set the course for two very different branches of the family.


The Rural Branch: William’s Line

Richard’s elder son William stayed close to home. He raised his family in Hatherop, and in 1803 his son John Betterton was baptised in the parish church. John lived the life of a Gloucestershire working man, moving between Hatherop, Cirencester, and the surrounding villages. His children — including Daniel Betterton (1843–1932) — carried the family into the Victorian era as labourers, tradesmen, and smallholders.

This branch of the family remained firmly tied to the land. Daniel’s son Edwin worked in the Cirencester area before settling in Oxfordshire and Berkshire. Edwin’s son Kenneth William Betterton was born in Clanfield in 1920 and continues this line today. I am reminded of my family’s modest means, and deep roots in the rural counties of Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire.

Kenneth Betterton: 1920-2000 My Father


The Ambitious Branch: Thomas’s Line

William’s younger brother Thomas, however, took a different path. While still connected to Hatherop, he moved into the world of publicans, maltsters, and smallscale brewers trades that offered opportunity to those with energy and ambition. By the early 1800s, Thomass family had left Gloucestershire for the Midlands, where brewing and malting were expanding industries.

Thomas’s son, also named Thomas (born 1807), established the family in Leicestershire and Warwickshire. His own son, Henry Ince Betterton, continued the upward trajectory, entering business and public life. And it was Henry Ince’s son — Henry Bucknall Betterton, born in 1872 — who completed the family’s remarkable rise.

A successful barrister, Member of Parliament, and later a key figure in government during the interwar years, Henry Bucknall Betterton was elevated to the peerage in 1935 as 1st Baron Rushcliffe. From a Hatherop maltster’s son to the House of Lords in three generations — a striking ascent by any measure.

Henry Bucknall Betterton, 1st Baron Rushcliffe
                                                                                                                 © National Portrait Gallery

Two Branches, One Origin

Though their paths diverged, the two branches of the Betterton family share the same roots:

Richard Betterton of Hatherop, the eighteenthcentury patriarch whose sons carried the family name in different directions.

             William’s descendants remained close to the land, forming the line that leads to myself and siblings today.

             Thomas’s descendants embraced trade, industry, and public life, culminating with the creation of Baron Rushcliffe.

The story of the Bettertons of Hatherop is, in many ways, the story of England itself: rural beginnings, the pull of opportunity, the rise of industry, and the persistence of family ties across centuries. Even as the branches grew apart, they never lost their shared origin in that small Gloucestershire village where the name Betterton first took root

Edwin Betterton 1880-1941: My Grandfather


Daniel Betterton 1843-1932: My Great-Grandfather

Saturday, 31 January 2026

Some Images in Paint and Pencil

 














A few images created over time 2010-2018. Mostly acrylic on wood blocks, but also pencil sketches and a couple of  larger pieces 








Saturday, 3 January 2026

Augustine's Ordo Amoris and Keller's Counterfeit Gods

Augustine’s ordo amoris and Keller’s Jacob together: the painful wrestling that reorders desire, leaving us dependent on God’s grace.



In his book "Counterfeit Gods",  Timothy Keller ( 1950 – 2023: American Presbyterian pastor, preacher, theologian, and Christian Apologist) references  Jacob's nocturnal wrestling match in Genesis 32. Far from a curious or marginal episode, Keller presents it as a paradigm for how human beings truly encounter God.

Read alongside Augustine's doctrine of ordo amoris--the right ordering of love--the story becomes not merely dramatic, but diagnostic: it exposes how spiritual transformation occurs through the painful reordering of desire.

Augustine's central claim is that sin is not best understood as loving evil things, but as loving good things wrongly. Created goods--security, success, approval, even blessing--become destructive when they are elevated to ultimate status. "My weight is my love," Augustine writes in the Confessions; what we love most pulls us in a particular direction, shaping our character and destiny. The problem is not that the heart loves too much, but that it loves in the wrong order.

Jacob is a vivid embodiment of this condition. His life has been defined by cunning, manipulation, and self-reliance. He seeks blessing, but on his own terms; he wants security without vulnerability, promise without dependence. In Keller's striking phrase, Jacob is a "con artist," not because he loves bad things, but because he attempts to extract blessing from God without surrendering control.

Augustine would say that Jacob's loves are mis-ranked: God is useful, but not supreme.

The wrestling match at the Jabbok becomes the moment when this disorder is confronted. Crucially, Jacob meets God alone. The encounter is personal, stripped of props and strategies. And it is not serene or contemplative, but agonistic. Keller stresses that real engagement with God feels like wrestling precisely because God contradicts us. Augustine anticipates this psychological realism: the reordering of love involves inner conflict because the will resists the loss of its idols. Conversion is not a gentle adjustment but a profound disturbance.

The turning point comes when Jacob is wounded. God touches his hip, and Jacob's strength collapses. Paradoxically, this is not the end of the struggle but its resolution. Jacob stops striving and starts clinging. He no longer wrestles to win; he holds on in dependence. Augustine's theology of grace is unmistakably present here. The human will cannot heal or reorder itself; it must be acted upon. Grace does not merely assist our projects--it dismantles them. Jacob's limp is the bodily sign that his deepest love has been dethroned.

Yet Jacob is also blessed and renamed. He becomes Israel, "the one who struggles with God and prevails." Keller emphasises the paradox: Jacob wins by losing. Augustine would recognise this as the restoration of right order. God is no longer a means to an end, but the end itself. Other goods may still be loved, but now in relation to God rather than in competition with Him. True freedom, for Augustine, is not autonomy but rightly ordered dependence.

The lasting limp matters. Jacob is not perfected; he is transformed. Augustine is equally insistent that conversion leaves marks. The soul bears the memory of its reordering; humility replaces confidence, gratitude replaces control. Spiritual maturity is not marked by triumphalism, but by a certain vulnerability--a way of walking that remembers grace.

Read together, Keller and Augustine converge on a single insight: spiritual change occurs not when we try harder, but when we love differently. Jacob's struggle is the drama of ordo amoris enacted in flesh and bone.  We might conclude, then that to encounter God is to be wounded in our false strengths, so that our loves may be healed and reordered. The promise then becomes: what we lose is self-sufficiency; what we gain is God Himself.

References:
  • Augustine. (1998). Confessions (H. Chadwick, Trans.). Oxford University Press. (Original work ca. 397–400 CE)
  • Keller, T. (2009). Counterfeit Gods: The Empty Promises of Money, Sex, and Power, and the Only Hope that Matters. Dutton.
  • Produced with assistance of Co-Pilot AI