Tag: Charles Dickens

It Did Not Stay For Its Close-up

After lunch today I scanned the next five of Charles Keeping’s idiosyncratic illustrations to Charles Dickens’s ‘Martin Chuzzlewit’, displaying the artist’s liquid line in expressive portraiture.

‘Martin and his friend followed them to the door below’

‘On his livid face was one word – Death’

‘Whole troops of married ladies came flocking round the steps’

‘ ‘Pinch him for me, Cherry, pray,’ said Mercy’

‘The agent was swinging backwards and forwards in a rocking-chair’

Soon afterwards we set out on a short forest drive.

Pearly blackthorn still drapes the hedgerows. We noticed a meringue version at East End; a cascade behind a cock pheasant on Sowley Lane; and scoops of cream alongside St. Leonard’s Road.

Also at East End the pale blue lightly-clouded sky provided a backdrop for bare birches, skeletal oaks, and a yachting weather vane.

Oaks along Sowley Lane have bowed to years of prevailing winds from the Solent, beyond which is the Isle of Wight, creating the third layer in the rape field image. Screeching gulls, excited by the soil-churning of a distant tractor, advanced inland – silhouetted dark against the sky, and light against a line of birches.

While I photographed bright purple aubretia and gold and cream lichen decorating the old stone wall of St Leonard’s Grange,

a passing car flattened a hen pheasant, roughly in the centre of the picture, upon which a ravenous crow immediately alighted. Disturbed by the cyclist, it did not stay for its close-up.

This evening we reprised Jackie’s lemon chicken and egg fried rice meal, with which she drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank Recital Languedoc Montpeyroux 2018.

Eternal Spring

After lunch I progressed enough with ‘Martin Chuzzlewit’ to feature another handful of Charles Keeping’s splendid illustrations to Charles Dickens’s novel.

In ‘The sky was black and cloudy, and it rained hard’, Dickens has used the weather as a symbol of the mood he wishes to create. The artist has reflected this in the vertical slashes across the scene involving horses hanging their dripping heads. There is neither steam emanating from their droppings, nor smoke from the driver’s pipe.

‘Martin drew back involuntarily, for he knew the voice at once’

‘He not only looked at her lips, but kissed them into the bargain’

‘Onward she comes, in gallant combat with the elements’

In ‘They walked along a busy street, bounded by a long row of staring red-brick storehouses’, Keeping displays his skill at depicting a packed street scene with gradually diminishing perspective.

On this warm and sunny afternoon we found ourselves on a drive outside

St Mary the Virgin Church at South Baddesley, photographed by Jackie, who from

her vantage point on the carved oak bench, also focussed on

mares’ tails, Celandine, and cows crunching hay opposite.

I wandered around the graveyard reflecting that the scenes reflected an eternal spring for those buried here.

Most poignant was this angel and child sculpture.

The crochet-embellished post box on Pilley Hill now sports an Easter Bunny. Nearby a sunflower embraces a post, and bluebells sweep down a bank.

For dinner we enjoyed more of Jackie’s wholesome chicken and vegetable stewp, accompanied by bacon butties, with which she drank sparkling water and I finished the Red Blend.

Refurbishment

Scanning the dull granite skies did not look promising today, so I scanned the next half dozen of Charles Keeping’s sinuous line illustrations to Charles Dickens’s ‘Martin Chuzzlewit’, followed by colour slides of a visit to Nunhead Cemetery on a much brighter day in September 2008.

‘An anxious shade came upon his contented face when his glance encountered the dull brow of his companion’

‘I am the most miserable man in the world’

‘Fresh horses came and went and came again’

‘In the throats and maws of dark no-thoroughfares near Todgers’s’ gives the artist an opportunity to display his perfectly receding perspective in an accurate presentation of a cramped warehouse scene of the period.

‘Down they came directly, singing as they came’

‘Cuffey fell back into a dark corner’

Nunhead Cemetery is one of ‘The Magnificent Seven’ and managed by the local authority, Southwark Borough Council.

My post ‘Council Housing’ describes the policies of the 1980s that led to the transfer of the

West Lodge to private ownership. When Southwark Council bought the cemetery for £1 in 1976 both East and West Lodges were derelict. The West one was refurbished to provide council accommodation. The tenant bought the property at a reduced price under the ‘Right to Buy’ scheme, and subsequently sold it at its true market value.

Refurbishment of the octagonal chapel was also required. At the time of my visit with writer John Turpin

the gate, for example, had been renewed, but it was still without a roof.

A sensitively sculpted angel was garlanded with ivy.

The afternoon, although still cool and breezy, brightened considerably. Jackie attended to water features while I cleared up clippings and took them to the compost bins.

Later we dined on the Culinary Queen’s spicy pasta arrabbiata and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Hardy’s Endeavour Cabernet Shiraz 2020

Clear, Changing, Light

We began the day with an early trip to Milford on Sea Pharmacy.

Cloudscapes over the Solent and Christchurch Bay were ever changing. The Isle of Wight, invisible not so long avows nicely silhouetted against clear blue sky beyond bands of white cotton and degrees of indigo clouds. Cerulean patches peeped through others. Empty cruise ships waited outside Southampton for Covid-19 restrictions preventing them from taking on passengers to be lifted.

Similar skies prevailed over Keyhaven Harbour

and Hurst Spit, along which a couple of heavy lorries churned up dust before descending to

Saltgrass Lane.

Numbers of walkers and their dogs stood out against the constantly changing skies. Beneath the truck in the third image featuring the spit can be see a husky dog and its human companions.

This group raised considerable attention and a number of questions which the gentleman holding the lead was happy to answer.

After lunch Jackie worked on her water features in the garden while I cleared up a little: transporting clippings to the compost; lifting wind-floored owls, none of which had been damaged; and gathering slender fallen branches.

Having now read the first five chapters of

in which Mr Dickens begins to introduce his characters, I scanned the above frontispiece – ‘It was a clear evening, with a bright moon’ – with the title page and five more of Mr Keeping’s illustrations.

‘The old lady, naturally strong-minded, was nevertheless frail and fading’

‘Neither of the three took any notice of him’ – as the artist shows us.

‘ ‘You have seen the gentleman in this way before, miss?’ ‘

‘He touched the tip of his high nose, by way of intimation that he would let Mr Pecksniff into a secret presently’

Notice how Charles Keeping, in ‘Mr Pinch set forth on a stroll about the streets’ establishes perspective as the lines of the detailed foreground donkeys recede into those of the suggested distant chimneys.

Just before dinner I dashed outside with my camera

to photograph a fleeting sunset.

Dinner then consisted of three prawn preparations, namely tempura, salt and pepper, and hot and spicy; Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice; served with fresh salad, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Cabernet Sauvignon.

The Journey’s End

Today I scanned the last dozen tipped in colour plate illustrations by Frank Reynolds from Hodder & Stoughton’s 1913 limited edition of Charles Dickens’s ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ Details about the artist feature in my post ‘Not Done With Pickwick’

As I did yesterday I have included the lines of text that each of the following paintings depicts with the gallery image that can be accessed by clicking on each one individually. With the titles below I have indicated the three exceptions that carry no such references.

‘THE WAYFARERS’

‘MRS JARLEY’

‘SALLY BRASS’ (No lines of text)

‘LITTLE NELL’

‘FLIGHT’ (No lines of text)

‘MR AND MRS QUILP’

‘NELL’S GARDEN’

‘THE MARCHIONESS’ (No lines of text)

‘CRIBBAGE’

‘AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY’

‘THE FIGUREHEAD’

‘NEAR THE JOURNEY’S END’ (No lines of text)

This evening we dined on lamb roasted slowly enough to provide crisp skin while retaining tender meat; equally crisp Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, and parsnips; carrots, cabbage, and Brussels sprouts, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.

The Old Curiosity Shop

Early this morning I finished reading ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ by Charles Dickens, and scanned the last three of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to my Folio Society edition of 1987.

This book bears all the qualities of Mr Dickens’s story-telling. We have mystery, suspense, moving prose, humour, and more than a touch of sarcasm. There is a wealth of characters intricately knitted together. As is typical the personages are uncomplicated; they are either sinners or saints.

The prose flows at quite a rate; the descriptions of a range of locations from city to countryside are often lyrical, and at times unattractive. Dialogue expands characterisation, while refraining from irritating attempts at the vernacular such as sometimes employed elsewhere. Cameo introductions of various contemporary environments and individuals are informative. I find it is quite helpful that the author reminds us of characters we may have forgotten about.

Christopher Hibbert’s knowledgeable and informative introduction expresses the commonly held view that in this work Dickens is attempting to write out his grief at the death of his idealised and adored young sister-in-law.

Normally when I review a book I try not to reveal anything of the story. This has been largely adhered to despite my decision to feature every one of the artist’s exemplary illustrations. Mr Keeping’s final image does indicate the ending, but hopefully there is still much to discover for new readers.

‘The water toyed and sported with its ghastly freight’ is suitably grim.

The young gentleman in ‘Bidding the travellers farewell’ is recognisable from previous portraits, notably in the dock. It is clear that the young lady does not want him to leave.

‘She was dead, and past all help, or need of it’

For a number of years around the end of the last millennium, I performed a consultancy role at Portugal Prints, the Westminster Association of Mental Health project then situated in Portugal Street, WC2. This was around the corner from Portsmouth Street where stood the 16th century building which had inspired Charles Dickens as a starting point for this novel. I never actually entered the establishment in that incarnation because it was never open when I walked past and I probably couldn’t have fitted into it. Google now tells us that it is a high-end shoe shop.

A parcel arrived from Becky and Ian this morning. It contained a splendid Mother’s Day bouquet with small packet of fudge chocolates. Becky made the vase for Jessica and me when she was an art student at Newark in the early 1990s. The book is one of Becky’s presents to me for Christmas 2020. It lives on the coffee table. Jackie produced this photograph.

Just as I settled down to watch Six Nations rugby this afternoon, we suffered a power cut which meant I missed the first half of the game between Italy and Wales. Jackie decided to go shopping. There was some difficulty for her leaving the house, because

temporary traffic lights were in place to enable the electrical engineers to fix the problem of a line tangled in the conifers central to her picture.

The second rugby match was between England and France. While I watched that

the Assistant Photographer focussed on the sunset which signalled that the gale is over.

This evening we dined on oven haddock and chips, small peas, pickled onions, and gherkins with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.

Spume

On this wet, windy, Wednesday morning I passed four more of Charles Keeping’s splendid illustrations on my visit to ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ by Charles Dickens.

‘Kit’s mother and the single gentleman, speeding onward in the post-chaise-and-four’ occupies a double page spread.

‘ ‘Aquiline!’ cried Quilp, thrusting in his head, and striking the feature with his fist’, follows with another.

‘ ‘Mr Quilp, elevating his glass, drank to their next merry-meeting in that jovial spot’. Here Mr Keeping produces three recognisable characters, depicting the scene described with sarcasm by Mr Dickens.

‘Nell went out alone to visit the old church’

Having reached this point on such a day, I was prompted to return to my cemeteries project after lunch.

My next batch of colour slides was produced at West Norwood Cemetery in May 2008.

Perhaps the most splendid memorials in Victorian London were those erected here by the Greek shipping community.

An example is the Mortuary Chapel, C1872, attributed to ‘J Oldrid Scott, to the memory of Augustus Ralli. Small Doric temple with tetrastyle portico at each end, all of fossiliferous limestone white for the stylobate and golden for rest of building. In front, pediment and metopes are marble sculptures of religious subjects although compositions are based on Parthenon models. Set back lower side wings with rusticated ends, angle pilasters, plain metopes and narrow windows. Double door with fanlight of fishscale glazing. Handsome painted ceiling inside.’ in 2019 the National Lottery Heritage Fund awarded the Local Authority [Lambeth] a grant under the Parks for People programme which secured funding for the repair of priority monuments. Work is currently progressing on surveys and statutory approvals prior to starting the repair works, which are now anticipated to start in 2021.’ (https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1064989). The young man was at Eton College when he died.

There is much skilful statuary. Perhaps a reader may be able to translate the inscription on the child’s plinth.

Yes. I found this mother and son mesmerising from almost any angle.

With the gale winds picking up by mid afternoon, and the sun having spent the day in hiding, we nipped down to

the coast at Milford on sea for some comparison shots with yesterday. The woman had left the shingle and Hurst lighthouse was no longer visible; the Isle of Wight had been towed away.

Colourless rocks and waves had lost their sparkle and breakwaters were largely obscured.

Spray had turned to flying spume-balls carpeting steps to the sea wall over which they sped sailing across the road.

Black headed gulls hung almost stationary on the wind. From the safety of the car

Jackie photographed me failing to focus on them yet having a little more success with the sea.

This evening we dined on firm pork chops topped with sage and onion stuffing; crisp Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes, crunchy carrots, broccoli and cauliflower, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Primitivo Salento.

A Tryst

Today I scanned Charles Keeping’s next seven illustrations to ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ by Charles Dickens.

‘ ‘Go, sir,’ returned Dick, leaning against a post and waving his hand’. He is quite clearly drunk.

‘The boy threw his wasted arms around the schoolmaster’s neck’ is a typically tender scene.

‘They drew up there for the night, near to another caravan’

‘The game commenced’ leaves us in no doubt that these are three rogues and the un-pictured gentleman facing them will lose his money.

‘One young lady sprung forward and put the handkerchief in her hand’ pictures a rare act of kindness.

‘Miss Brass went scratching on, working like a steam engine’

‘ ‘Hallo there! Hallo, hallo!’ ‘ faithfully depicts the author’s description of a scene in which two characters are now clearly recognisable.

This afternoon we drove to Everton Garden Centre the where we purchased a garden water feature which we hope to set up tomorrow, and continued with a short trip to the east of Lymington.

We stopped at Saint John the Baptist Boldre Parish Church, in order to photograph

the clusters of daffodils on the bank and around the grounds. The first two of these images are mine; the rest Jackie’s.

While I was wandering around the side my Assistant Photographer featured in her third picture,

a horse, protected against our currently cold nights by a rug, trotted over to the fence between the field and the church. I thought perhaps it was interested in me.

No such luck. I had noticed a gentleman take up a seat in the churchyard. His equine friend had found a way to get to the church fence where her gentleman friend was waiting to continue the conversation that ensued. It was clearly a regular occurrence.

I comforted myself over the rejection by communing with a bay pony on the verge further along the road.

My next conversation was with a family of donkeys;

then alpacas at East End where stands

one of the three mimosa trees was saw blooming today, and numerous gnarled oaks awaiting their own plumage;

a lone thatcher exercised his craft.

Variously coloured crocuses are bursting through the soil before the war memorial on South Baddersley Road.

Jackie’s final offering is a rook she photographed from Hightown Lane yesterday.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s savoury egg fried rice; tempura prawns; and a rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2020. This was followed by Bakewell tart and New Forest Rhubarb and Ginger ice cream.

More Contemporary Tributes

This was another day of unrelenting gloom and rain, on which I scanned another batch of colour slides from

Kensal Green Cemetery in May 2008. Well, they all started out as colour slides before I converted some.

The first of these chapels within the grounds is Anglican; the second Non-conformist.

A single sorrowful sculpture sits atop the plinth dedicated to George and Mary Maugham; while William Holland’s Renaissance style sarcophagus is supported by stone griffons.

antiquesworld.co.uk provides this information about the firm began by William Holland furniture makers:

‘Holland and Sons Antique Furniture (1803 – 1942)

Holland and sons were extremely good cabinet makers and they specialised in fine quality furniture. This is why such pieces are so well collected today as if you buy antique furniture by these makers you know you are buying quality. This English furniture making firm was founded in 1803 by William Holland and by the middle of 1800s, Holland and sons was one of the main competitions to the furniture makers Gillows, one of the greatest English furniture producers in History.

Original they were cabinet makers and upholsterers called Taprelland Holland but by 1843 they changed to Holland and Sons with William Holland in control, a relative of the well known Regency architect Henry Holland.

The business soon started to expand quickly and by1851 they employed over 350 cabinet makers and by 1852 took on the prestigious firm of Thomas Dowbiggin of 23 Mount Street, London, who had previously made the state throne for Victoria’s Coronation. Holland and Sons worked successfully not only as furniture makers but also as undertakers and became responsible for the Duke of Wellington’s funeral.

William Holland has the firm expanding at a rapid rate and became so well known for its quality in cabinet making, they became cabinetmakers and upholsters to the Queen. Their first commission was for Osborne House in 1845, supplying furniture in the Queen’s favourite style of the time, the Louis XVI style from France. They continued to supply furniture for Osborne and gained further commissions for Windsor Castle, Balmoral and Marlborough House. Holland and sons also worked for many leading institutions such as the reform Club (we have also supplied the reform club with our antique furniture in the past), the British Museum and the new Houses of Parliament. They were part of many of the important international Exhibitions including London in 1862, Vienna in 1873 and Paris in 1867 and 1872. They gained worldwide fame for their magnificent designs and super quality in cabinetmaking right throughout the Victorian era. Holland and sons stayed as a family run business but sadly closed in 1942 when it fell on hard times due to the ever changing world of the time.’

A small girl is still adorned with flowers and a necklace.

Like other members of ‘The Magnificent Seven’; unlike modern municipal cemeteries, Kensal Green permits more contemporary tributes. Bob Caxton’s descendants have incorporated a stained glass panel into his stone; a sinuous cut metal figure is fixed to the crucifix standing over Maggie Jones; and Charlie O’Sullivan’s polished memorial bears his photograph and the Irish symbols of shamrock and harp.

This afternoon, having finished reading the first four chapters of

I embarked upon the task of scanning Charles Keeping’s superb illustrations as I work my way through Charles Dickens’s novel. In addition to the frontispiece above, entitled ‘Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs’, a traditional Victorian street entertainment, I now reproduce

‘I found at my elbow a pretty little girl’ whose innate sadness the artist has seen;

and ‘The dwarf glanced keenly at all present’, depicted as evil personified.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha.

Wet Roads

Rain beating a clamorous tattoo on the Modus roof; repetitive rapping from a thumping car radio; abrupt slamming of doors; crashing gears of handbrake ratchets; muffled muttering of masked voices; clicking stilettos clopping through puddles – all combined to distract me from the last chapters of ‘Little Dorrit’ as I waited in the car while Jackie shopped in Tesco this morning. Fortunately the rain had stopped when she brought her trolley load for me to unload into the boot.

Heavy rain soon set in again, and I finished reading my Folio Society edition of Charles Dickens’s ‘Little Dorrit’.

For fear of spoiling the story I will not add my own detailed review of this tale which has been printed in many editions and filmed for a BBC series in 2008 to the many that may be found on the internet.

I will simply quote the first paragraph of www.brittanica.com’s article:

‘Little Dorrit,  novel by Charles Dickens, published serially from 1855 to 1857 and in book form in 1857. The novel attacks the injustices of the contemporary English legal system, particularly the institution of debtors’ prison.’ and add that it is a love story with added mystery.

The writer’s flowing prose with sometimes poetic descriptive passages and witty humour mostly captivates, although some of the more boring characters had my interest flagging occasionally.

Christopher Hibbert’s introduction is as helpful as always.

Charles Keeping’s inimitable illustrations are a perfect accompaniment to this novelist’s masterpiece. Regular readers will know that I have posted these as I have worked my way through the book. Although some narrative may be gleaned from these pages I have done by best not to reveal too much.

Here are the last three:

‘A big-headed lumbering personage stood staring at him’ as the brim of his hat had been tossed over the body of text.

In ‘Tattycoram fell on her knees and beat her hands upon the box’ the artist has captured the beating motion.

In ‘Changeless and Barren’, his final illustration, Keeping has managed to symbolise that the work is drawing to a close.

The rain returned before we arrived home and continued pelting for the next few hours. Rather like yesterday, it ceased by late afternoon. Unlike yesterday the sun remained lurking behind the thick cloud cover. We took a drive anyway.

As we approached Keyhaven the sails of a trio of enticing kite-surfers could be seen.

By the time we arrived they were packing up.

Saltgrass Lane runs alongside the tidal flats. At high tide it is often closed.

As we arrived, waves were lapping over the rocks and rapidly covering the tarmac. I was splashed by passing vehicles as I photographed the scene.

Figures were silhouetted on the spit; birds made their own contribution.

We continued along the lane back to Milford on Sea. Had we returned via Keyhaven we would probably have been locked out.

Other lanes, like Undershore, were washed by rainwater from overflowing fields and ditches. Jackie parked on this thoroughfare and I wandered along it for a while.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s stupendous chicken and vegetable stewp and fresh bread with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha, which involved opening another bottle.