One of the most interesting aspects of Blogging is trying to find out about authors I have never heard of and who don't figure in the main Literary Guides/Compendiums. Corfe Castle; or Keneswitha has no author on the title page and only Your obedient Servant, The Author at the end of three page dedication to Henry Bankes, Esq. M.P., the owner of the castle in 1824. Luckily, a previous owner of the book had written in pencil below the title, J. F. Pennie - which saved me considerable time. I finally found some information about Pennie on the Bartleby.com website.
John Fitzgerald Pennie was born at East Lulworth on 25 March 1782. He died at Storborough, near Wareham on 13 July 1848. So, very much a Dorset born and bred author. He was known for his dramatic works and poetry. They included: Ethelred the Usurper (1817) and Ethelwolf, or the Danish Pirates (1821) - both very relevant to this novel, published a few years later. He also wrote The Royal Minstrel, an epic poem in 11 books (1817); Rogvald, an epic poem in 12 books (1823); two volumes of Britain's Historical Drama, a series of national tragedies (1832 and 1839}; and a strange book in 3 volumes, dedicated to the famous Wiltshire amateur archaeologist, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, The Tale of a Modern Genius; or, the Miseries of Parnassus (1827). A contemporary review, in La Belle Assemblée, stated: The least can be said of the work of three volumes, in a series of letters, is, that it is very amusing. It appears to be an auto-biographical sketch, by Mr. Pennie, whose literary efforts, it may therefore be inferred, have been generally unsuccessful. We wish they had been otherwise; for, to see such genius duly patronised, is ever delightful. The work is of a mixed character - biographical, historical, critical, poetical, antiquarian, &c.
Pennie was also involved in local archaeology, as round, or bowl, barrows in a cemetery to the east of East Lulworth, may have been opened between 1825 and 1832 by him and others. Flowers Barrow - an Iron Age Hillfort - at East Lulworth produced a skeleton of abnormal length, beneath the surface of the inner rampart. He reminds me a little of another 'local' author-cum-archaeologist of Northumberland, R. H. Forster (1867-1923), whose works - both novels and poetry - I have collected; all in first edition, of course!
What of Corfe Castle - perhaps his only novel? It is set in the period 1002-1014 and mixes good dialogue, useful background history, accurate topography and compelling narrative. There are two heroes and a heroine, all dedicated not only to repel the regular Danish incursions but the machinations of other Saxons. The cruel king Ǣthelred 'the Unraed' and his mother, Queen Ǣlfthyth, are justly castigated for the murder of the previous king, Edward 'the Martyr', at Corfe on 18th March 978. His fictitious brother, the banished Kenelm (first introduced to the reader as 'The Spirit of the Night'; then as 'The Black Warrior'; then named as Bernulph, but not until page 230), after escaping from the castle (having witnessed Edward's murder) and then learning the fighting trade abroad, has returned to give mysterious succour to the Saxon peasants in and around the Corfe area. His back-story is told between pages 236 and 294. It is well for us that this hero is our friend, for he must be a formidable enemy...[he] was about forty-two or three years old. His dark countenance was marked with all that energy and intelligence, which had been displayed in his conduct. But it was usually shaded with an air of melancholy tranquillity... Not surprising really - he had lost his beloved wife, Eaditha, cruelly snatched from him many years before. He is supported by the other brave hero, 24 year-old Hermanric, who has no idea who Kenelm is until well into the book. Hermanric, in turn, was the son of Ceodwalla, a noble Saxon of power and influence, and Githa, a descendant from one of the Norwegian chiefs. The heroine is the lovely Keneswitha, who falls madly in love with, and is equally loved by, Hermanric. She is beautiful and Christian - what's not to like. And her real father turns out to be Kenelm!
Other important figures in the tale are Saxburga, the widow of Eadwulph, one of Ǣthelred's nobles, who now commands Corfe Castle; and her daughter Edgina, a partial chip off her mother's block. Saxburga is described as someone to be admired for her spirit, and feared for her energy, were the impressions she wished to produce...yet with all these natural qualifications for tyrannic sway, she possessed some acquired mental properties and endowments, which secured the faithful attachment of her numerous retinue. She was a conscientious catholic, and therefore never intentionally unjust. Then there are the 71 year-old venerable monk Giselbert, who knows all the secrets of who is who and who is privy to all the many hidden passages within Corfe castle's thick walls, and who possessed eminently the confidence of all the inhabitants of the castle, from the princess Saxburga to the lowest menial in her service; the old cottager Wisimund, the widowed monk (yes), village pastor, and assumed father of Keneswitha. An all round 'good egg', even if he subscribes to the Monothelite deviation from the Roman church's position and does not accept the supposed supremacy and infallibility of the first bishop of Rome. Other minor characters include the lively Ella, a Saxon maiden at the castle, and a young Dane Othulf, who is fiercely loyal to the Saxon cause.
No self-respecting novel is without its 'evil ones'. High on the list is the Danish Frithegist, rescued with about 100 other Northmen from shipwreck and, now, seemingly loyal to Saxburga and fancying Edgina, but, in fact, a bad man - he meets his deserved end; he is supported by Eadburga, the artful and base companion of Saxburga. Earl Afwald, the devious envoy of Ǣthelred, is pleasingly disgusting and abhorrent; whereas Earl Godwin, the leader of the Danish raids, is simply a roving nationalist rather than just a bad man.
It is interesting that the Hǽlig-Stan (now the Agglestone or Devil's anvil) plays its part in the story (as it did in the previous Dorset-based novel I read and blogged about) - stamping ground of an old Druid, who later gets burnt in his bramble hideaway. Also the Tilly Whim caves figure again as a useful hideout.
Anachronistic castle! The stout stone walls (with their towers, secret passages and baileys) are actually from the late 11th century onwards. There are postholes of a hall belonging to the Saxon period, but little is known buildings from that time, which would have almost certainly been constructed of wood. The piety (which increasingly intrudes as the story develops) is of the early 19th century kind (vide my contemporary Scottish novelists). Keneswitha's chief delight may well have arisen from the assurance, that, as love to God was the grand motive which operated upon her conduct, so the divine favour, as an over-shadowing and blissful panoply, was her highest reward. But the later references to Kenelm's and Hermanric's motivations seem artificial, especially Bernulph saying a wooden crucifix has no supposed virtue or goodness in itself (predating Lollardy by some 400 years). Thirdly, the existence of the secret The Order of Benevolence, which Bernulph leads and Hermanric joins (pp. 306-320), is clearly modelled on Freemasonry, and is anachronistic and almost laughable, and adds nothing to the story.
An afterword:
Further Internet searching led to Tait's Edinburgh Magazine for August 1848. On its Obituary page 574 was the following: At Rogvald Cottage, near Wareham, Dorset, Mr. J.F. Pennie. His poetical productions procured for him the title of Bard of the West; and his contributions to the History of the County of Dorset and other topographical works, and, above the rest, his "Glossary of the Dorsetshire Dialect", ranked him among the most useful archaeologists of the day, and especially in the locality where he resided. His wife died only two days before him, and they are now buried together at Lulworth, his native place.
There is also a much longer Obituary (pp. 656-659) in The Gentleman's Magazine for June 1848, which uses Pennie's own The Tale of a Modern Genius; or, the Miseries of Parnassus for much of its information. The life it tells is a fascinating one. After very short term successive employment as a solicitor's clerk, a school usher, a touring actor, and running a small school in Lulworth, he finally settled down to writing. His only son, Eric, emigrated to the USA in 1835. The Obit ends with a fine, if overlong, sentence:
He was one of those persons of lively imagination and vivid self-conceit who indulge their youthful ambition unchecked by the discipline of masters or the sobering rivalry of competitors, and thus learn to value themselves at a far higher estimate than they can find others willing to accept. Well, I enjoyed his novel!
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