Black Magic and White by Mrs Godfrey Blount

This poem printed in The Vineyard, April 1913 reminds me of Ethel (Mrs Godfrey Blount) & Maude's presentation to the General Meeting of the the Peasant Arts Fellowship in 1912 (Caxton Hall, 28th February), which is recorded in their Peasant Arts Guild Paper “To give a little girl the use of her hands is to bring a disinherited princess back into her kingdom” (‘Our experience of the Influence of Handicraft upon the Workers’, Peasant Arts Guild Paper, No. 10 , Ethel Blount and Maude E. King).  

from Blount, Ethel, The Story of the Homespun Web

When time was young a princess fell

     (A heart most rare,

     A soul most fair!)

Beneath a fiendish wizard's spell.

His Hell-broth won, the poison wrought;

     Afar from man

     The princess ran

De-humanised, a thing distraught.

From out the kindly human ranks

    She ran, accurst,   

    For blood a-thirst,

With tawny stripes upon her flanks,

Then came at night in dreadful quest

   To roam and roam

   Around her home

Where once with Love she took her rest.

She saw her husband's spear and dart;

   The eyes of ire

   Glared forth the fire

That fed upon the tiger-heart!

She saw her children's dolls and ships;

   Without a sound

   She snuffed around

And licked those dreadful, dreadful lips;

Then saw her pretty weaving gear

   Of flax and loom;

   In puzzled gloom

The tiger-heart began to fear

from Blount, Ethel, The Story of the Homespun Web

There lay her little spinning-wheel,

   The band unbound,

   The reel unwound;

The tiger-heart began to feel.

There lay her dainty little pirn,

   The thread undone,

   The wool unspun;

The woman-heart began to burn;

The cruel heart, the eyes of steel

   Began to yearn,

   Began to turn

At sight of flax and fleece and wheel.

The yellow stripes and eyes of gloom

   Began to fade,

   Passed into shade;

The princess stood beside her loom.

The loom and spindle, flax and fleece,

   The living art,

   Called back her heart

And filled her soul with vital peace.

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount with Pictures

From The Vineyard, March 1913.  The illustrations to this poem have parallels with Blount's other illustrated song, 'The Song of the Sower' shown in a previous post here.

When the seeds are sown

  They quicken all together,

In soothing showers, and sun,

  And wind and wintry weather.

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount

When the green blades sprout

  From their purple prison,

Little song-birds shout,

  “Jesus Christ is risen.”

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount

When kind people walk

  Where the corn is yellow,

Every sturdy stalk

  Stoops to kiss his fellow.

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount

When the harvest heaves

  With many a golden gable,

All shock-headed sheaves

  Praise God who spreads the table. 

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount

                                                            Give us this day our daily bread,

  And daily honest labour,

That every creature may be fed,

  And learn to love its neighbour.

Our Daily Bread by Godfrey Blount

The Queen of Festivals by Rev. R. L. Gales

Rev. R. L. Gales contributed plentiful pieces to The Vineyard, in April 1911 he wrote an article called "The Queen of Festivals".

I do not know much about him, but a small bit of internet researching delivers some details on Richard Lawson Gales (1862-1927).  Born in Littlehampton, he read English as Oxford University and won the Newdigate prize in 1886; a prize for the best composition of English verse by an undergraduate.  He was ordained in 1888 and became the curate of Stanwick (1888-1895), then Kirby in Cleveland (1895-1896), Wanborough  (1896-1907) and finally Gedney, Lincolnshire.  I wonder if he met the Haslemere Peasant Arts movement whilst in Wanborough?  This is approximately 15 miles away from Haslemere.  Archive.org has a number of mostly poetry books by R. L. Gales here, it includes titles such as A Posy of Folk Songs, Ballads & Carols and The Vanished Country Folk.  

In A Posy of Folk Songs (October 1912) for example:

"Good Friday (A South German Volkslied, 1590)

As our Lord into the Garden went

The olive trees before Him bent,

The green leaves shivered, for they knew well

To-morrow’s Sorrow, ere it befell.

The fales Jews into the Garden came,

Judas the traitor had showed them the same,

Our Lord they took, His Head they crowned,

His Body they scourged, His Hands they bound..."

In "The Queen of Festivals" (The Vineyard, ibid) Gales wrote "A country without festivals must perforce be bleak and unhomelike - at least, no home for the spirit.  I must confess that to me a festival is the greatest and most sacred of all great and sacred things...Allover Christendom the "Queen of Feasts", the Day of days, is not Christmas but Easter...

"It is fitting surely that the Resurrection should have taken place in a garden, and there can be no fitter way of celebrating it than our English custom of decking the churches with flowers.  An English country church, to its dress of moss and primroses gathered by village children, has more of the spirit of Easter, at least to my own thought, than an Eastern shrine glittering with candles, or an Italian basilica strewn with laurel.  But the flowers should be fresh spring flowers, and wild, shy, wood things.  Talking of plants and flowers, it used to be an old country custom for people to eat a taury pudding on Easter Day.  The meaning of the name is, of course, a deathless plant, the life-giving herb.  An old English name for the wood-sorrel was "alleluia".  It is a lovely thought to think of the earth being thus carpeted with Easter praise.  

"In this garden, the Easter sunrise took place at midnight, long before the rising of the earthly sun.  The old devout writers always speak of it as the Coming of the True Brightness, the Light springing up for the righteous, shining on those in darkness and the shadow of death.  The evil spirits were scared by its Rising like owls, and bats by the sun.

Barbagianni, the great owl

In his ancient ivied keep,

Hunting, in the midnight deep,

Helpless mice and poor small fowl,

Flutters in a blind affright

At the sudden silent light.

"Hilarity, gaiety, has always been the note of the popular keeping of Easter.  The mediaeval name for its joyous pranks and games were "Paschales risus" "Easter laughter".  There were in the Middle Ages cathedrals where the canons played at ball in the nave on Easter Day...Another North Country custom is that of rolling coloured Easter eggs by the children, this too on Easter Monday.  The egg, of course, has always been a type of the new life of the Resurrection.  The song of that new Life is "Alleluia".  The very name is synonymous with Easter.  It is the song of recompense and renewal, beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning.  It was, and I hope still is, a piece of popular custom that one must always put on something new for the first time on Easter Sunday, must wear upon that day some token of the new creation, the everlasting renewal.  For Easter means "the restoring of the things that have been cast down, the renewing of the things that have grown old, the return of all things to their perfection through Him in Whom they had their beginning, Jesus Christ Our Lord.""

The Country Chrism - with the key to Fairyland, 1913

The lead article in The Vineyard in March 1913 was a poem by Maude Egerton King called 'The Country Chrism'.  Underneath the title it is written "P. G. H.: Christened at the Country Church, 26 Jan. 26, 1913".  The poem describes the christening of Philip, 'P.G.H.' at the Country Church, Kings Road, Haslemere.  It was clearly not a standard church christening.  The actions and their meanings convey some fascinating insights into the life and thoughts of the Peasant Arts movement in Haslemere.

The wayside water referred to is perhaps the stream that now flows between the railway line and the even numbered houses on Kings Road.  Or maybe it is another spring or stream that ran above ground, following on from the old Watermill that used to be situated on the site of the Country Church, now St George's Flats, Kings Road.

The Christening by Ludwig Richter
illustration from The Vineyard, March 1913

"Up from the Heart of all living things
The wayside water it wells and sings.

Though small and hidden its humble cup
From depths eternal it rises up;

From life eternal, tho' cupped so small,
Wells the sweet water, most mystical.

  *       *      *

Shining and singing the day comes down
To jewel the quiet Earth's winter gown.

The berries burn red and the robins sing,
And the snowdrop belfries are all a-ring-

(Delicate snowdrop, so pure and merry,
And sturdy, rubicund holly berry!)

Into the singing day they bring
A beautiful child to the wayside spring.

Were he a bird at its mossy lip,
His singing were sweeter for just one sip;

Or a poor soul, thirsty, and soiled of mien,
The water would feed him and wash him clean.

But dear little Philip is bright and new
As lambs and daises and silver dew;

His pretty frock is of white, white silk,
No thirst has he for he drinks good milk.

'Mid sunlit snowdrops and berried moss
They sprinkle his heart with a shining cross;

They write on his wondering brow the sign
Of Heaven sonship and right divine;

Then hold him close to the moss so sweet
To feel the heart of the Mother beat.

They have touched his lips and his wide bright eyes,
To keep them gentle and brave and wise;

And his feet, in hope of a strong man's running,
His hands, for the joy of the craftsman's cunning;

And they've left in the palm of his small right hand
The hidden key to his fairyland

Dear little Philip is full well sped
With the Country Chrism on heart and head!

The twofold wisdom shall his be now,
Of the sacred Cross, of the sacred Plough,
With the Country Chrism on heart and brow!

  *        *         *
The beautiful Earth will be home to you
And church and workshop and playground too.

And faith, hand-labour, and love and praise
Will win men out of the mortal maze
To walk in the simple and vital ways.

From highway and hedge you will bring them in, -
The rich and poor brothers, so gross, so thin
On money, and wind, and the husks of sin, -

From hedge and highway bring many a brother
Back to the heart of the patient Mother,

Nor rest till his whole desire be bent
On breaking the bread of her sacrament;

To serve her with love and all faithful labour,
And holy days, dance to her pipe and tabour;

To see the Lord in her burning bushes
And sing His praise with her larks and thrushes;

And bless Him daily for power and breath
And then for the freedom of well-earned death!

     *       *       *

Up from the Heart of all living things
The wonderful water it springs and sings;

Though small and hidden its earthy cup,
From depths eternal it rushes up,

From life eternal, though cupped so small,
The deep sweet water, the mystical!"

illustration to 'The Country Chrism'
The Vineyard, March 1913

The Vineyard, March 1913

The Country Chrism, Maude Egerton King
The Vineyard, March 1913

Dyeing in Haslemere

The Haslemere Educational Museum have some interesting remnants of the dyeing industry performed by the Haslemere Peasant Arts movement.

The primary Peasant Arts work that springs to mind exhibiting vegetable dyes is The Spies.

The Spies, Godfrey Blount
Victoria and Albert Museum, London

The museum have a copy of Handbook on Dyeing, Etc. for woollen homespun workers (R. P. Milroy, Congested Districts Board for Ireland) which has two stamps on the inside cover "The Peasant Arts Guild, The Homespun and Rug Weaving Industry", plus "The Spinning and Weaving School Kings Road  Haslemere" is written between these two stamps.  This suggests that Milroy's book was used as a handbook for reference at the Spinning and Weaving School on Kings Road.  I am not clear which building that would have been, but most probably it was either the Weaving House or the Dye House on Kings Road.

The Peasants Arts Guild
reproduced courtesy of Haslemere Educational Museum

R.P's Milroy's Handbook on Dyeing
reproduced courtesy of Haslemere Educational Museum

The splattered pages of the book are particularly evocative of the time, conjuring up a scene where vats of vegetable dye bubble away as industrious local workers transport their homespun wool from the Dye House to the Weaving House.   I wonder how they consulted the book?  And which dyes were the most popular?

from R. P. Milroy's Handbook on Dyeingreproduced courtesy of Haslemere Educational Museum

Some recipes that caught my eye were to dye:

• dark green
• dark olive green
• madder red
• golden brown
• claret
• light crotal shade
• brownish tint from stem and leaves of bracken fern

from R. P. Milroy's Handbook on Dyeingreproduced courtesy of Haslemere Educational Museum

from R. P. Milroy's Handbook on Dyeingreproduced courtesy of Haslemere Educational Museum

Leisure by William H. Davies, The Vineyard May 1911

I found this poem whilst looking for a suitable accompaniment to a photograph of our 'Blount apple tree'.  This the 100 year plus Bramley apple tree in our garden in what was once Foundry Meadow.  I don't think that this tree has changed much since it's last appearance in 2011 in this post.

All of the gardens in what was once Kings Road's Foundry Meadow either still have apple trees which may have been planted at the same period of time as this, or did have.  Our neighbour lost their apple tree two Summers ago when covered with apples it was slightly windy.  There were apple trees in the garden at The Dye House but I have been told that they were chopped down, this was probably sometime between 1948 and the 1960s.  So I presume that Foundry Meadow was an orchard of sorts at some point in time.

When I began reading 'Leisure' I quickly realised that despite my limited knowledge of poetry, this was a poem I was familiar with.  A quick Wikipedia search informed me of some interesting overlaps with the Peasant arts movement.  I wonder at what part in his life, William H. Davies' path crossed with The Vineyard?  Wikipedia describes William H. Davies as "living a rough life, particularly in London shelters and doss-houses, including the Salvation Army hostel in Southwark known as "The Ark"  which he grew to despise", that he moved to rural life in Kent in 1905, that George Bernard Shaw (who has appeared in a few previous posts here) wrote the preface to his 1907 autobiography The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp and also "in 1911, Davies was awarded a Civil List Pension of £50" (ibid).

Bramley apple tree,
old Foundry Meadow, Kings Road

In The Vineyard (May 1911 p.541), beneath Maude Egerton King's plea:

"The first of May

Is garland day:

Please remember the garland."

William H. Davies' poem 'Leisure' is printed:

"What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare;

No time to stand beneath the boughs,

And stare as long as sheep or cows;

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass;

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night;

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance;

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and care."

The (Illustrated) Song of the Sower by Godfrey Blount

Back in April 2011 I posted The Song of the Sower poem by Godfrey Blount.  It was taken from a large song sheet type format paper, with the Peasant Arts Society noted at the bottom and their Bayswater address, 51 Pembridge Road.  

I have since found that The Vineyard April 1914 (p.408) published The Song of the Sower told through some beautiful Godfrey Blount illustrations.

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

The Song of the Sower,
Godfrey Blount, The Vineyard, April 1914

Good Friday by Katharine Tynan

In the first April edition of The Vineyard (April 1911), there was a significant focus in the articles on Easter.  A relevant poem for today, is this from Katharine Tynan (p.480).

Good Friday, from a picture by Arthur Hughes
The Vineyard, April 1911

Good Friday is a heavenly day,

So bright, so fair, so still,

They slay the King of all the world

On a high hill.

The birds sing sweet and low,

With a most quiet mirth,

They scoop a hollow grave for Him,

The holiest head on earth.

Good Friday is a heavenly day,

New lights on earth and sky,

The day the Saviour of us all

Went forth to die.

Sweetly it rose and fell,

So calm, so light, so grave.

Christ Jesus, sacrificed for men,

Died - and forgave.

The Vineyard, April 1911

Gertrude Jekyll and the Haslemere Peasants - Old West Surrey Part 1

I found the Carthusian (April 1902) article on the Peasant Art exhibition at Charterhouse, Godalming (in my previous post) of particular interest as it mentioned that some of the 700 objects on display had been loaned by Gertrude Jekyll.  I have been wondering if there was a link between Jekyll and the Peasant Arts movement as there do seem to be some overlaps, and Jekyll's involvement in the Charterhouse exhibition is the closest link that I have found.  The exhibition had been organised by the Rev Gerald Davies who later sold his peasant art collection to the Peasant Arts Guild and it formed the basis of the Peasant Arts Museum on Kings Road, Haslemere.  The beginning of the museum is outlined in this post.

Cover of
Old West Surrey
Gertrude Jekyll, Longman, Green & Co., London, 1904

Jekyll the famous Victorian garden designer, also published a book in 1904 that touches on some of the Haslemere Peasant Arts themes.  Old West Surrey (Jekyll, Gertrude, Longmans, Green and Co, London, 1904) seeks to record the old way of life in the local area "so great and so many have been the changes within the last half-century, that I have thought it desirable to note, while it may yet be done, what I can remember of the ways and lives and habitations of the older people of the working class of the country In have in almost continuously ever since I was a very young child".  I am not clear whether this book is particularly well known or not.

Jekyll calls ‘West Surrey’ “the long chalk line of the Hog’s Back on the north, with its eastern prolongation beyond Guildford, and the Weald of Sussex to the south.

“We hardly ever go northward beyond the Hog’s Back, except of course in the train which does not count, and we do not go much down to the Weald.  We like to look out from our southward-facing hills and see right across the Weald to the long dim, blue-hazy line of the South Downs, and to know that beyond this is the sea, and then France, and the rest of the world.

"But we wander a long way east and west in the pleasant country of the sandy hills, from the still wild lands south of Dorking on the east, right away to Woolmer Forest and Gilbert White’s country in the west..

"When I was a child all this tract of country was undisocered; now alas! It is overrun.

Detail from the title page of
Old West Surrey
Gertrude Jekyll, Longman, Green & Co., London, 1904

"It is impossible to grudge others the enjoyment of its delights, and yet one cannot but regret that the fact of its being now thickly populated and much built over, has necessarily robbed it of its older charms of peace and retirement.

"Formerly, within a mile or two of one’s home it was a rare thing to see a stranger, and people’s lives went leisurely.  Now, the strain and throng and unceasing restlessness that have been induced by all kinds of competition, and by ease of communication, have invaded this quiet corner of the land.  In the older days, London might have been at a distance of two hundred miles.  Now one never can forget that it is at little more than an hour’s journey.”  

It is interesting that we are still about an hour away from London!  

“Common things of daily use, articles of furniture and ordinary household gear, that I remember in every cottage and farmhouse, have passed into the dealers’ hands, and are now sold as curiosities and antiquities.  Cottages, whose furniture and appointments had come through several generations, are now furnished with cheap pretentious articles, got up with veneer and varnish and shoddy material.  The floor is covered with oilcloth, the walls have a paper of shocking design, and are hung with cheap oleographs and tradesmen’s illustrated almanacs.

"This is the modern exchange for the solid furniture of pure material and excellent design, and for the other things of daily use – all the best possible for their varied purposes – that will presently be shown and described.”

Here Jekyll resonates many of the beliefs of the Haslemere Peasant Arts movement, and of Arthur Romney Green's solid wood furniture.  In the Preface, Jekyll thanks a number of people for helping her, this includes the Rev. Gerald S. Davies.  

from Jekyll, Gertrude, Old West Surrey, Longman, Green & Co., London, 1904