Susan Ferrier revisited

 

National Library of Scotland - 1982

Searching for another book on a top shelf last week, I came across the above pamphlet, published by the National Library of Scotland to commemorate the bicentenary of Susan Ferrier's birth. Before cataloguing details of the Exhibition put on at the National Library, there is an Appreciation of my four times great-aunt by His Honour Judge James E.M. Irvine; a Commentary on the Novels of Susan Ferrier by Dr. Ian Campbell of the University of Edinburgh; and a synopsis of Maplehurst Manor, an undeveloped novel of Ferrier's, very possibly written after the success of her three published books, again by Dr. Campbell.

What I find interesting is the refrain that Susan Ferrier appeared to be balancing her quality as a comic satirist with that of an intrusive moralist. The usual argument is that the latter wins out, particularly as regards her last novel, Destiny. Here is Judge Irvine in his Introduction to her middle novel, The Inheritance (Three Rivers Books, 1984): All three novels have the same faults and virtues... they are all too full of sententious digressions (fortunately easily skipped)... In her last novel, Destiny, written at the time of her father's death the didactic moralist seems to have gained the ascendant over the comic satirist. It is my contention that Ferrier's didactic stance has been increasingly exaggerated in recent criticism.

However, back in 1929, Margaret Sackville, in her Introduction to Ferrier's Destiny, would not have agreed with the last sentence: 

[It] has a brilliant beginning but unfortunately becomes tedious as the story proceeds on account of the heavy masses of indigestible moralising which it contains... So it happens that side by side with her magnificent humour are passages of the same depressing piety which made what were called the Sunday-books of my childhood so formidable, in which dreadful little prigs lived (or more usually died) for the edification of their worldly relatives.

I have Blogged on all three of Ferrier's novels - Marriage on 2nd March 2021; The Inheritance on 25th September 2021; and Destiny on 23rd March 2021; as well as a Blog on Ferrier's homes and burial place under the heading An Edinburgh Pilgrimage (14th September 2021). I must say, when I read the books, the humour far outweighed the moralising in the majority of cases. Ian Campbell makes some valid points in his  assessment of the author and her works:

No celebratory exhibition will raise her to the rank of a Scott or a Galt...she remains a Scottish novelist of the second rank, deserving some revival of her earlier popularity and certainly deserving to be read...what has emerged is the thoughtful observation of Scottish life, the manipulation of points of view and the admission of the necessity of change...she has the wit (and the inventiveness) to catch the tone of her time and her society, the skill to make several societies interesting, the tact to make the didactic intentions tolerable, and the finesse to handle the Scottish content of her novels. I could not have put it better myself!

Susan Ferrier's bust in the National Library

In my Library:

1897: Sir George Douglas - The 'Blackwood' Group (Miss Ferrier)  (Oliphant Anderson & Ferrier)

1929: ed. John A. Doyle - Memoir and Correspondence of Susan Ferrier 1782-1854 (Eveleigh Nash & Grayson)

1957: Aline Grant - Susan Ferrier of Edinburgh (Alan Swallow)

1965: W.M. Parker - Susan Ferrier and John Galt (The British Council)

1982: Judge Irvine et al. - Susan Ferrier 1782-1854 (National Library of Scotland)

1984: Mary Cullinan - Susan Ferrier (Twayne Publishers)

1988: Aileen M. Riddell - At the Verge of their proper sphere: early Nineteenth Century Scottish Women Novelists. Chapter Five (University of Glasgow PhD. Submission)

2009: Victoria Chance - The Romantic Novels of Susan Edmonstone Ferrier (Lambert Academic Publishing)

2013: Andrew Monnickendam - The Novels of Walter Scott and his Literary Relations. Chapter Two 'Susan Ferrier and Lucre-banished Clans' (Palgrave Macmillan) 

Kieran Molly's 'Yorkist Pretenders to the Tudor Throne' 2024

 

Pen & Sword History first edition - 2024

Ever since the [in]famous 1066 and All That was published in 1930, Lamnel/Wermkin Simkin and Percy Warmneck/Warmnel/Wimneck have attracted mirthful attention. As Kieran Molloy says in his Introduction, ‘Who, it might credibly be asked, would back a Lambert or a Perkin to be king of England?’  Randolph Jones, in several Bulletin articles (including the most recent September issue – ‘Jehan le Sage. The boy who would be king’); Ian Arthurson; Nathen Amin; and, especially, Anne Wroe in her ‘The Perfect Prince’, all have tackled this conundrum. 

Molloy’s book, part prose part playscript (courtroom drama), posits several interesting surmises. He argues that the identity of Lambert Simnel is a greater mystery than that of Perkin Warbeck, and produces a ‘part detective story…with a dose of speculation layered on top’. The traditional narrative concerning Simnel owes much to Polydore Vergil, but Molloy also highlights the chroniclers Adrian de But, Jean de Molinet and Bernard André. He suggests there are three realistic possibilities for Simnel’s identity: one of the two Princes in the Tower, Edward, Earl of Warwick and an imposter. The evidence for it being Richard of Shrewsbury is ‘almost non-existent’ (only André refers to the crowning of Edward IV’s second son in Dublin); whilst Vergil does write that the Germans had come to restore (ad resitiuendum) the boy Edward. What of Warwick?  Of note is the Act of Attainder, issued when Clarence was on trial for treason in 1478, stating that the duke had caused ‘a straunge childe to have been brought into his Castell of Warwyck, and there to have putte and kept the likenesse of his Sonne and Heire’, whilst the real heir was sent to Ireland. Did this happen? Molloy points to the odd case of Ankarette Twynyho, where this possibly suspicious servant was silenced. Did the real Warwick, brought up in Ireland from the age of two, re-emerge to be crowned, whilst Henry’s ‘Warwick’ in the Tower was the ‘straunge’ young man?

Molloy next puts a forensic eye on the traditional tale of Lambert Simnel, whose name only came to light in the Act of Attainder issued in November 1487. Discrepancies in the official narrative are numerous. Could such a boy have been tutored by a humble priest, during a maximum of nine months, to impersonate one of the three possible contenders in Dublin? Why would Margaret of Burgundy support someone of non-royal blood for king?  Why would the Earl of Lincoln defer his legal claim to the throne in favour of a parvenue or even the real Warwick, who was legally debarred?  Who was Elizabeth Woodville backing? ‘There is only one person who, as king, would make such a move worthwhile: her son, Edward V.’ No wonder she was suddenly confined to Bermondsey Abbey! Molloy suggests that there were two plots: one in Ireland, backed by supporters of the Earl of Warwick, and a second, based in England, backing Edward V. He further suggests two different outcomes for Edward V, if it was he – transforming into a John Clement, who enrolled at Louvain University some seven months after Stoke Field; or a John Evans, buried in the remote north Devon village of Coldridge. Molloy summarises: first, that the real Earl of Warwick was alive, probably living in Ireland in 1486; secondly, the support for the 1486 rebellion by both Elizabeth Woodville and John de la Pole, ‘can only be rationalized by including a son of Edward IV – Edward V – at the centre of the rebellion. It was not a case of either/or, but both…no serious analysis of the Simnel affair could doubt Henry VII’s version was fiction.’

As for the drama – the trial of ‘Perkin Warbeck’ is placed in a framework of sixth form debate, where the Earl of Oxford presides and the prosecution is led by Cardinal Morton and the defence by Dean William Worsley. Witnesses include Giles Daubenay, Jean le Sauvage and Katherine Gordon. Initially wary, I found myself being carried along by the arguments and counter arguments. It was even handed, if occasionally verbose. There was little new but it was effective. Molloy admits there are still ‘loose ends’, and the drama concludes with the jury still out. So is this Reviewer.

The author is a retired Professor of Inorganic Chemistry; this brings to mind C.P. Snow’s lecture and subsequent book ‘The Two Cultures’ (1959), which highlighted the deleterious effect of a division between Science and the Humanities. Kieran Molloy is an admirable antidote. 

R.H. Forster's 'Down by the River' 1901

 

E. Johnson first edition - 1901

A year ago, I purchased a lovely copy of the above - in full blue morocco with red and brown morocco onlays to the upper board depicting a pair of crossed oars above a river motif in gilt - from Sky Duthie Rare Books of York. I am not particularly interested in rowing, but I have punted on both the Cam and the Cherwell. The book is a collection of short pieces of poetry and prose originally published in the Eagle - St. John's College, Cambridge annual review founded by the poet Thomas Ashe in 1859 and still going strong. It includes not only an overview of the previous academic year, but also articles and reports on sports activities and other features. The reason I bought Down by the River (I had searched for it for many years) was because it was written by Robert Henry Forster, an author I had been collecting for over thirty years . Born in March 1867 at Backworth, Northumberland, he was the fourth son of George Baker Forster, a mining engineer. Robert went to Harrow and then up to St. John's in 1885. He achieved a Law Tripos. As a student he rowed in the first Boat of his college's Lady Margaret Boat Club, between 1887 and 1888, at stroke and then at bow, not only at Cambridge but also in the  famous Henley Regatta. His boat won the Thames Cup at Henley. His father had rowed for St. John's in 1852 and 1853. In 1890, Robert published the official History of the Lady Margaret Boat Club 1825-1890. My copy has on its fly leaf John Merivall fr G.B. Forster, July 1890. It is interesting to note that both father and son won the "Bateman" Pairs: in 1853 and in 1889 and 1890.

"Bill" (Vanity Fair Supplement)

Robert maintained his love for rowing by becoming joint secretary of the Thames Rowing Club in 1892 with his friend L.H.K. Bushe-Fox, Starting out with a legal career in mind, he was called to the Bar in 1892; however, his writing soon took precedence, to be joined by his archaeological interests. His fascination with the past was already evident in the papers that made up The Amateur Antiquary  (1899). It was consolidated in his series of historical novels, nearly all set in the North-East, and by his academic papers, but found its greatest expression working on the Corstopitum excavations at Corbridge in Northumberland. Robert became Treasurer of the British Archaeological Association in 1905 and a vice-president in 1911.

He married Margaret Hope, quite late in life, and eventually settled in Devon. He died at Rest Dod, Combeinteignhead on 6th June 1923, aged only 56. The last of his volumes of poetry, A Devonshire Garden (1923) was published posthumously. Despite their evident popularity in his day, Robert's books are relatively hard to come by (particularly in good condition). Fame is a transient thing!

What of Down by the River? I must admit I struggled with parts of it. The poetry, often mixed in with the prose, rarely rose above good amateur verse. The first two articles are set on the River Cam and would surely appeal to the rowing fraternity. Throughout the book, the prose is leavened with touches of humour:  "There ain't a river in the land / I'd swop for my dear old Ditch".

In fact, it is just these peculiarities that constitute its principal charm, as supplying in the first place an inexhaustible source of what I may call grumbling material - without which no pleasure in life is complete - and secondly a never failing excuse for bad rowing, being efficiently aided in the latter respect by the eccentricities of boats and oars, and still more by the shortcomings of other people... (In The Eagle, December 1893).

And this poem concerning a fractious Pair:

Stroke.

"Why did I row in a pair?

Why wasn't I sooner beheaded?

Why is bow's oar in the air,

While mine in the mud is embedded?"...

Bow.

"Difficult 'tis top discern

Why o'er the stretcher stroke lingers.

Why does he bury the stern,

And bark on the gunwale my fingers?"...

And again:

"Ah!" murmured the poet,

"There once was a captain who steered,

But his second appearance is feared;

or two funnies, one whiff,

Three fours, and a skiff

Are said to have quite disappeared."

And this:

"His attitudes are quaint

His back is bent and flabby,

Suggestive of a saint

In some flamboyant abbey;

In weird spasmodic jerks

He does his clumsy toiling,

As though his rusty works

Most sadly wanted oiling."

Other pieces are more 'miss' than 'hit' with me - e.g. The Debutante and Grandfather Nile, the latter trying to prove the earliest use of oars was in ancient Egypt. It ends: To the Egyptians may be ascribed the honour of being the inventors of rowing; but it was the Phoenicians who rescued the art from Egyptian conservatism, and had the largest share in its extension and development.

The penultimate piece (from The Eagle for March 1901) the story of Ag the Boatman, and his desire for wedded bliss with Isca, who lived on the other side of a wide river with her grudging father Urt, is the most interesting section in the book - to the non-rower, that is. His trials and tribulations until he works out how to construct a boat from logs etc. is quite well done. The final article, On the Tideway (the only one not to have featured in the College magazine) is a simple story of the Thames and its river users.

Down by the River now joins the rest of my R.H. Forster collection; I am pleased I finally tracked it down and quite enjoyed reading a book on a subject I did not have much interest in!

First editions in my Library:-

Historical Novels:

1898:  The Hand of the Spoiler

1902:  A Tynedale

1903:  The Last Foray

1904:  In Steel and Leather

1905:  Strained Allegiance

1906:  The Arrow of the North

1907:  The Mistress of Aydon

1908:  A Jacobite Admiral

1909:  Harry of Athol

1911:  Midsummer Morn

1913:  The Little Maister

Poetry:

1903:  Idylls of the North

1905:  In Old Northumbria

1914:  War Poems of a Northumbrian 1st series

1915: War Poems of a Northumbrian 2nd series

1920:  The Double Realm

1922:  Two Romances in Verse

1923:  A Devonshire Garden

Miscellaneous:

1890:  The History of the Lady Margaret Boat Club

1895:  The Postgraduates, A Suggestion for a Comic Opera

1899:  The Amateur Antiquary

1901:  Down by the River

+ several papers in Journals on Archaeology.

Those in red I have not been able to collect yet.

ed. Tim Bacon's 'Robert Bakewell. Britain's Foremost Livestock Breeder' 2025

 

Brewin Books first edition - 2025

This magisterial work builds on Patricia Stanley’s original publication of the mid-1990s; she is also a major contributor here. She writes of Bakewell (1725-1795) in the first chapter: ‘He was a man of great qualities, amongst which were to be found in abundant quality, enthusiasm, perseverance, observation, judgement and, above all, great kindness to both men and beasts’. When he took over the management of Dishley Grange from his father in 1760, his aim was to improve every class of farm livestock. That his family had good pedigree in farming can be traced in Sue Brown’s very useful chapter, which amply illustrates not only the value of judicious research in Inventories, Wills, Leases etc., but also the skills needed for extrapolating a coherent story from such basic source material. The family can be traced back to 1575, when Thomas Bakewell of Normanton le Heath, near Ashby de la Zouch, made his will. His descendants consolidated their agricultural holdings in the area around Normanton, until Robert Bakewell [2] (c.1643-1716), the grandfather of the more famous agriculturist moved to Dishley in 1707, attracted by its comparatively large size, with the fields all lying together. His son, also Robert [3] (c.1685-1773) was noted for being ‘an ingeneous [sic] & able farmer’; but by the time his namesake son was thirty-five, the latter is reputed to have taken over the running of the farm. An extensive summary of Robert’s [4] character was given in the Journal of the Royal Agricultural Society of England in 1894. It included the following: ‘From his father Bakewell had an excellent training for practical & experimental farming…his manners had a rustic yet polite & pleasing frankness…[he] had a store of anecdotes & stories…[his] kindness to brute animals was proverbial, & being in constant practice at Dishley was rewarded with extreme docility in the farm animals’.

There follow several very detailed and often highly technical chapters on Bakewell and the New Leicester Sheep, Ram Letting and his legacy relating to Horses, Pigs and Poultry. The writers – Pat Stanley, Janet Spavold and Hilary Matthews are to be congratulated on the depth of their research and their facility in explaining it to the general reader. Their sources range from the contemporary - for example Arthur Young’s ‘A Farmer’s Tour through the East of England’ and the late 18^th century Encyclopaedia Britannica - to modern publications such as K. Chivers’ ‘The Shire Horse’ (1976) and ‘The Journal of the Rutland History Society’ (1981). The 18th century was the time when beef and mutton were to be more important than ‘the power of draught and the fineness of wool’, and Robert Bakewell is probably best remembered for developing the New Leicester Sheep. That  he was also a shrewd husbandman can be seen in the precautions he took to make sure that even his cull sheep could not be kept for breeding by butchers and his involvement in the formal setting up of the Dishley Society for breeders in 1789 to protect and advance their interests.

The five chapters on the Longhorn cattle not only pay due homage to Bakewell but also to other individuals such as Sir Thomas Gresley of Drakelow Hall, Burton upon Trent; Richard Astley of Odstone Hall; the Chapman Family of Nuneaton; and, of particular interest to this Reviewer, Sir George Crewe and his son, Sir John Harpur-Crewe on their Calke Abbey estate. The latter can be classed as a Longhorn Revivalist – in February 1874, the Sporting Gazette, paid an official visit to see Sir John’s herd and, in a most poetic fashion, extolled both the man and his beasts. The baronet’s favourite cow, Tulip, (whose picture adorns page 215) took first prizes at both Birmingham and London in 1868 and a butcher offered the price of 60 guineas for her. Sir John declined the offer, took her back to Calke, where she amply repaid his faith in her by founding the outstanding Tulip tribe. As the Sporting Gazette’s journalist wrote, “No prettier animal can be a denizen of a park”. However, Sir John left instructions in his Will that on his death, his beloved herd of Longhorns was to be sold as his son, Sir Vauncey, did not share his passion for agriculture.

Other chapters deal with the cautionary tale of Bakewell’s bankruptcy in the 1770s – seemingly not previously addressed; and the family’s active membership of the local Unitarian congregation.

What of the present and future? Stanley – a breeder of Longhorn cattle herself - and Spavold are relatively optimistic for the Longhorn breed’s survival. ‘On the basis of its history of coming into and going out of fashion, it may well do, providing it continues to find its own niche in our modern world.’ This Reviewer’s regular strolls around the Calke Abbey estate are enhanced by the present Longhorn herd, one of which he saw giving birth in early August. As for the New Leicester, it continues – particularly in Leicestershire.  The Leicesters are a more direct parent of breeds such as the Hexham or Bluefaced Leicester and the Border Leicester. However, with fewer than 500 registered ewes, the Leicester Longwools are one of the rarest native breeds left in the UK. It can take heart that ‘there is scarcely a breed which has not felt the influence of the Leicester’ – Southdowns, Cotswolds, Lincolns, Shropshires, Hampshire Downs etc.

Brewin Books has used quality paper, with clear text and wide margins, and excellent colour and b & w photographs, prints and maps. John Boultbee’s painting of Bakewell’s Black Cart Horse Stallion and the 2025 photographs of the Blackbrook Longhorns are particularly impressive. There are twelve detailed Appendices, including Bakewell Family Trees, 19^th century Sale of Stock records and Stilton Cheese: History and Recipe. Perhaps Jethro Tull, Turnip Townshend and Coke of Norfolk are more widely known, but the New Dishley Society and the authors are to be highly commended, not only on such a superb production, but also being at the forefront in keeping Robert Bakewell and his legacy alive today. 

Helen MacInnes' 'The Unconquerable' 1944

 

George G. Harrap first edition - 1944

At last, I have tracked down my final Helen MacInnes novel. For years I have had twenty of her twenty-one books firmly bedded down on my Library shelves - all in first editions with their wrappers. Off and on I have searched for her third book - The Unconquerable (While We Still Live in the USA) - and finally bought it in the first week of this October. I have now read it! I started reading MacInnes' spy/thriller novels in 1970, seven that year, and continued until her last book, Ride a Pale Horse, came out in 1984.  I purchased and read them all in paperback (hence the final novel I didn't get until 1986 - by which time she was dead, of a stroke on 30 September 1985). I have kept all these paperbacks (including The Unconquerable) as well as subsequently buying all the hardback first editions. Some critics have labelled them old-fashioned, but that's probably why I like and identify with them. I grew up in the years she was writing about - the dangerous Cold War decades, when Russia and its expansionist tentacles were spreading everywhere. It was still the period when Nazis were being hunted down and non-fiction books were being published about the Second World War. MacInnes wrote about these scary times, with intelligence and an astute understanding of the complex web of foreign affairs. By the 1960s, when male authors such as Len Deighton and John Le Carré were starting out and Alistair MacLean was getting into his stride, she was into her third decade as a suspense novelist. That decade saw the publication of her Decision at Delphi, The Venetian Affair, The Double Image and The Salzburg Connection - all among her best.

Her bête noire was totalitarianism of any hue; thus her earliest novels focused on the Nazi threat and activities. Her first book, Above Suspicion (1941), was based partly on notes she had taken whilst on her honeymoon in Bavaria in 1932, and dealt with the evils of the sinister Gestapo. By the time the War broke out, MacInnes had been in New York for a year, as her husband Gilbert Highet had been made Chair of Latin and Greek at Columbia University. 1942 saw the publication of her second novel,  Assignment in Brittany, which concentrated on a battle of wits between the Nazis and the British secret service. Then came The Unconquerable, one of her longest novels (452 pages) and, possibly the most deeply felt.

It is the story of Sheila, an English girl, who was staying with friends at a Polish country house in August 1939. When war broke out she was urged to leave the country but stayed on in Warsaw. Why? Perhaps it was due to the charm of Adam Wisniewski, a Polish cavalry officer, even if she would not have admitted this. She also remained to support her Polish friends, Madam Aleksander and her children, and her brother Professor Edward Korytowski in Warsaw. Her decision meant she was caught up in a sequence of dangerous events, which included getting involved with a group of patriots working secretly to organise the defence of their country. While Nazi bombs were falling and Warsaw was burning, Michal Olszak and others are putting together plans for an organised resistance movement. Sheila becomes a cog in this complicated machinery. For a short time she masquerades as Anna Braun and, called to the Gestapo headquarters in Warsaw, is sent by the Nazis as a German agent on a mission. One German, Dittmar, has his suspicions of her and, woven into the more general story of the resistance group's conflicts with the Germans, is his attempts to track her down. The denouement, when it comes, is riveting. The book gave such an accurate portrayal of the Polish Resistance movement, that some reviewers and readers thought she had been given access to classified information (by her husband, who worked for the British MI6?).

MacInnes was certainly an able teller of exciting stories, as the dustjacket on The Unconquerable put it. She is excellent at character drawing and a skilful conveyor of atmosphere and landscape. 

Some extracts:

A spy is someone who finds out information for a certain amount of money. The money smothers his conscience if he is a traitor. If he is a patriot the money softens the lack of public recognition. But there is another word which I prefer to give to men who care neither for the money nor for any recognition. Their lives are often ruined; they may meet an unpleasant death; but they fight in their own way - with their brains, secretly, courageously - because all that matters to them is what they are fighting for. I think it is only fair to give them full credit for that.

All these people [Nazis], these self-appointed lords of creation, were vulnerable. They lived with the perpetual fear that their power was threatened, because the foundation of their power was opportunity. The nouveau riche displayed his yachts and pictures to silence his doubts. The arriviste in politics displayed his brute force for the same purpose. Cruelty, like all forms of display, was the compensation for the hidden, nagging fear of inferiority...

I know how you [Sheila] feel. I came here like you, not quite believing. Guerrilla army? A story-book adventure . . . something out of the Middle Ages . . . fantastic. Perhaps we are all these things; but we are also the only army left to a conquered country. Some of us at any rate will be here to help those who start pushing the Hun back where he belongs. Then we shan't be just a story-book chapter; we'll be in the history books as well.

A firm. crisp surface formed on the deep snow. You could walk on it as you could on icy ground. The white-grey skies changed to a clear pale blue. The sun set this clean, unmarked world glittering. The very air seemed to dance with light. Only the leeward trunks of the trees with their long winter shadows, and the walls of the houses which had sheltered under broad roofs kept their dark colour in defiance of so much change...in the evening the snow was streaked with gold and orange furrows from the large round sun sinking so swiftly behind the jagged edge of the mountains. The shadows deepened to violet, the columns of smoke thickened and darkened and the day's sounds died gradually away....night walked over the mountains, sweeping its train of stars, their brightness sharpened by the keen air. The carpet of snow became a cloth of silver. The shadows were black as the windows where the lights died one by one.

The tragedy for Poland and its people was that, although the Nazis were defeated in 1945, a further forty-five years were to pass before they achieved any sort of real independence. Not until January 1990 was the Polish People's Republic disbanded. The Warsaw Pact was formally dissolved in July 1991 and the first Polish free election took place just two months earlier. One shudders to think what probably happened to Adam Wisniewski under Russian occupation - that is, if he had survived the Nazi regime. It is ironic that it is present-day Poland who is at the forefront of European democracy, once again standing up to the evils of authoritarianism and totalitarianism.   

Previous Blogs:

[All in 2020]

March 14:  Above Suspicion (1941); Assignment in Brittany (1942)

April 23:    Horizon (1945); Friends and Lovers (1948)

May 17:     Pray for a Brave Heart (1955); North from Rome (1958)

May 23:     Decision at Delphi (1961); The Venetian Affair (1964)

June 4:       The Double Image (1966); The Salzburg Connection (1968)

June 30:     Message from Malaga (1972); The Snare of the Hunter (1974)

August 2:   Agent in Place (1976); Prelude to Terror (1978)

August 5:   The Hidden Target (1980); Cloak of Darkness (1982) 

August 9:   Ride a Pale Horse (1984)

Not Blogged on:

Rest and be Thankful (1949)

Neither Five nor Three (1951)

I and my True Love (1953)

Sarah Hawkswood's 'Feast for the Ravens' 2025

Allison & Busby paperback edition - 2025

I have loyally bought Sarah Hawkswood's Bradecote and Catchpoll's mysteries each time they have appeared in the Allison & Busby paperback series. Feast for the Ravens is the thirteenth and it has kept up the high standard the author first set with the Servant of Death. The latter was based on events during the Anarchy of King Stephen's reign (1135-1153) and was commenced in June 1143. The reader has now arrived in September 1145. The two medieval sleuths - Undersheriff Hugh Bradecote and Serjeant Cathchpoll, joined more recently by Underserjeant Walkelin - well versed in the nefarious behaviour of those of every rank and either sex, now find themselves tracking down the murderer of a Templar knight, found dead in the Forest of Wyre. A document has been found on him suggesting that an important local lord, Hugh de Mortemer of Wigmore, may be persuaded to change sides, deserting the King and going over to the Empress Maud/Matilda.

Previous stories have barely touched on the political ramifications of the Anarchy, but I found here that the issue of the rivalries of local lords and the dangers of swapping sides was well explained. Earl Robert of Gloucester (the Empress' half-brother) and his loss of Faringdon Castle and the importance of Josce de Dinan at Ludlow are mentioned, to give verisimilitude to the story. Was William fitzAlan of Oswestry, a supporter of the Empress, genuinely expecting Hugh de Mortemer to come over to Matilda's cause or was it a cleverly designed plot to cast suspicion on someone actually totally loyal to the King. We shall find out!

The de Mitton family, most of whom were wiped out in a fire, possibly started by an aggrieved sibling, Ivo, are central to the story. The eldest daughter, Rohese, raped by Eustace fitzRobert, the ruthless 'baddie' in the tale, had disappeared, apparently due to an onset of leprosy, but is actually living in Ribbesford Wood as a ghastly disfigured recluse. William de Ribbesford, her one-time beau who had expected to marry her, is the only one who knows of her existence there. He has cleverly encouraged the locals' belief that a Hrafn Wif (Raven Woman) haunts the woods - an evil combination of witch and ghost, not a creature of flesh and blood.  How Ivo and Eustace are finally brought to book is quite skilfully done by the author. On the way, we encounter other well-drawn characters, such as Herluin the Ribbesford Steward; Father Laurentius the village priest; Simon de Mitton, the surviving youngest brother; the blind and away-with-the-fairies old mother of Eustace, the lady Adela; and William de Beauchamp, the irascible Sheriff, who has figured in previous books as the unreasonable boss of the intrepid trio. Although the identity of the murderer is known from very early on, this does not curtail enjoyment of the book. The author is well versed in the period and the setting; the dialogue, and sleuthing, is not spoiled by anachronisms.

Now that Susanna Gregory's Matthew Bartholomew has 'retired' and settled down in (presumably) married bliss, Hawkswood's characters are the only medieval ones that drag my purse open.

R.D. Blackmore's 'Alice Lorraine' 1875

Sampson Low etc. first edition - 1875

After several delays, I have finally finished Alice Lorraine. Having now read half a dozen of Blackmore's novels, I am getting well acquainted with his style - strengths and weaknesses. The former includes wonderful descriptions of landscape and weather, of character and, more often than not, sound dialogue. The weaknesses? The problem of all three-decker novels - 'padding' is used to prolong the narrative and a tendency to go off piste. So much of the novel has only a slight relevance to the title character, Alice. Perhaps the story should have been called A Tale of the Lorraines.

Apparently, the story, set in 1811 to 1814, was be a tragedy (rare in Victorian fiction before Thomas Hardy addressed it as a dominant theme in his major novels). Hilary Lorraine was to become "the ruin of his friends". But how could a prankster - who threw darts in his lawyer's chambers and rode a market gardener's cart to Covent Garden to sell cauliflowers (he falls in love with the farmer's 18 year-old daughter Mabel Lovejoy - who had the loveliest, sweetest, and most expressive brown eyes in the universe), end up in the role of a tragedian? Certainly, the early chapters which dwell on the bountiful Sussex and Kent countryside, the boisterous sporting parson Struan Hales and the earthy pig-man Bottler is a typical bright prelude for bad things to come. Moreover, Hilary does quarrel with his father Sir Roland, and goes off to fight for Wellington in Spain and, furthermore, manages to disgrace himself by 'losing' a huge sum of money destined for the British troops. He does return home, physically ill and mentally distraught; but true love does not give up on him and he is happily wedded.

17 year-old Alice herself certainly bears the scars  - if relatively short-lived - of tragedy. Not only does she have to choose between marrying a scoundrel: first, to regain the Lorraine original larger estates and, secondly, to find money to retrieve her brother Hilary's honour. A third alternative is to perish (no mortgage on the Lorraine estate is possible whilst she lives). Linked with all this, is the family tradition - dating back to the early 17th century -  that if the local stream, the Woeburn, breaks out of the hillside, it is a time of danger and a family member must die: Only this can save Lorraine, / One must plunge to rescue twain. Thus, commending her soul to God in a good Christian manner, and without a fear, or tear, or sigh, she commits her body to the Death-bourne. 

The author's original aim was that Alice should sacrifice her life to save all else. He wrote to Blackwood, asking for his and the publisher's wife for their opinion - if you are unanimous against the fatal result, there is time to vary it, if you let me know speedily. The result? The near-drowned and unconscious Alice was pulled out of the dangerous waters, by the very man she goes on to marry! Poor Tess of the d'Urbervilles was still in the future, even if Maggie had met her watery end in Mill on the Floss some 15 years' earlier. 

Blackmore uses his own life to colour and progress the novel. Hilary Lorraine has much the same experience when enrolled as a student of the law, after his degree at Oxford. The novel goes into some detail of Hilary's time in the legal profession, so much clearly based on the author's own time there. Moreover, the scenes set in the fruit grower's farm in Kent and the journey to and from Covent Garden  mirror's Blackwood's own experience - of the latter: here was a wondrous reek of men before the night had spent itself. Such a Babel, of a market-morning in the berry season', as makes one long to understand the mother-tongue of nobody...Hilary even has an attack of epilepsy, which his author also suffered from.

There are some marvellous descriptive passages:

On Rev. Struan Hales:

He was a man of mark all about the neighbourhood. Everybody knew him; and almost everybody liked him. Because he was a genial, open-hearted, and sometimes noisy man; full of life - in his own form of that matter - and full of the love of life, whenever he found other people lively. He hated every kind of humbug, all revolutionary ideas, methodism, asceticism, enthusiastic humanity, and exceedingly fine language. The rector of West Lorraine loved nothing better than a good day with the hounds, and a roaring dinner-party afterwards... he hated books, and he hated a pen, and he hated doing nothing

On Sir Remnant Chapman (father to Captain Stephen Chapman, who wants to marry Alice but whom she detests):

"When I was in London [girls] turned me sick with asking my opinion. The less they know, the better for them. Knowledge of anything makes a woman scarcely fit to speak to. My poor dear wife could read and write, and that was quite enough for her. She did it on the jam-pots always, and she could spell most of it. Ah, she was a most wonderful woman!"

On the strawberry:

That is the time for the true fruit-lover to try the taste of a strawberry. It should be one that refused to ripen in the gross heat of yesterday, but has been slowly fostering 'goodness'', with the attestation of the stars. And now (if it has been properly managed, properly picked without touch of hand, and not laid down profanely), when the sun comes over the top of the hedge, the look of  that strawberry will be this - the beard of the footstalk will be stiff, the sepals of the calyx moist and crisp, the neck will show a narrow band of varnish, where the dew could find no hold, the belly of the fruit will be sleek and gentle, firm however to accept its fate; but the back that has dealt with the dew, and the sides where the colour of the back slopes downward, upon them such a gloss of cold and diamond chastity will lie, that the human lips get out of patience with the eyes in no time.

On the Sun:

The sun, in almost every garden, sucks the beauty out of all the flowers; he stains the sweet violet even in March; he spots the primrose and the periwinkle; he takes the down off the heartsease blossom; he browns the pure lily of the valley in May; and, after that, he dims the tint of every rose that he opens; and yet, in spite of all his mischief, which of them does not rejoice in him?

The novel contained a superb account of the severe winter of 1813, including the following extract about the continual snowfall.

The snow began about seven o'clock, when the influence of the sun was lost; and for three days and three nights it snowed, without taking or giving breathing-time. It came down without any wind, or unfair attempt at drifting. The meaning of the sky was to snow and no more, and let the wind wait its time afterwards. There was no such thing as any spying between the flakes at any time. The flakes were no so very large, but they came as close together as the sand pouring down in an hour-glass. They never danced up and down, like gnats or motes, as common snowflakes do, but one on the back of another fell, expecting millions after them. And if any man looked up to see that gravelly infinitude of pelting spots, which swarms all the air in a snowstorm, he might as well have shut both eyes, before it was done by snowflakes.

There are some well-drawn minor characters, such as Alice's grandmother Lady Valeria; Rector Hales' three daughters; the feral boy Bonny with his donkey Jack; Miguel de Montalvan, the Count of Zamora and his two, very different in character, daughters Claudia and Camilla; the irrepressible Major Clumps; even the Duke of Wellington; all add to the flavour and interest of the tale. Some of the best writing in in the last volume, concentrating as it does on the upshot of the Spanish campaign involving Hilary and his return to face the music with his family; the attempt of Alice to kill herself; the come-uppance of the Chapmans; and the tying of the various love-knots.

I am now on the look-out for Blackmore's other novels, apart from Lorna Doone. I haven't found Kit and Kitty, and I might make do with my single volume versions of Cripps the Carrier and Perlycross. Erema is available, but I am not drawn to tales set in America; so, that leaves Cradock Nowell and Christowell - both presently too expensive - and Clara Vaughan which is not available in first edition. However, I have two, if not three, G.P.R. James novels to attend to, so I am not downhearted.