Tag: Elizabeth Goudge

Gentian Hill

This novel by Elizabeth Goudge is a story on many levels based largely in Devon during the time of Nelson and Bonaparte. It is a tale of instinctive romantic love; of consistent unselfish giving of oneself; of loyal adoption; and of genetic recognition; of intuitive identification; of generosity of spirit; of friendship formed in adversity; and of complete lack of empathy and extreme cruelty.

So well crafted is the work that it is not at first apparent that the backdrop is the earlier period of The Terror of the French Revolution and the part it played in the lives of the main protagonists. The overall triumph of survival in challenging circumstances is an underlying theme.

Contrasts between gentle bucolic country life and the harsh disciplined life of sailors on the open sea form a key part of the narrative, as do those concerning class and breeding, and of different spheres of Christianity.

Goudge’s elegant descriptive prose engaging all the senses is at its best, whether featuring inland or coastline scenes or the various action sequences. “[dawn] came quite soon, with its inevitable quickening and reassurance, and the interpenetration of light an sound and scent by each other that one seems to notice only in moments of deep piece. The crying of the awakening gulls, the soft slap of the sea against the harbour wall, the running of the stream, the sound of an opening door and a voice singing, a church clock striking the hour, made a music that was a part of the growing pearly light. There was a faint scent if seaweed, of baking bread, and that indescribable fresh smell of the dawn compounded of dew-drenched flowers, wood-smoke and wet fields…..” is an example of this scenic range. “…..he was enduring the punishment meted out to midshipmen who sleep on watch. He was lashed in the weather rigging, his arms and legs widely stretched, his head burning, his body shivering from the bucketful of cold water that had been emptied over him, every nerve in him stretched to what felt like breaking point, and in his heart black rebellion, fury and despair. For he had been treated with the most shocking injustice…..” demonstrates the cruelty; “….Hour after hour it went on, the work and discipline of the wounded ships functioning all the while with order and purpose. Men toiled at the guns, in the magazines, in the rigging, carrying the wounded, flinging the dead and dying overboard, running messages, repairing under-water timbers….” the toil of battle.

There is good use of simile and metaphor, as in “He could disappear with the ease of a shadow when the sun goes in”; “he had been like a tortoise on its back, immovable but vulnerable and inviting prodding”; “that nauseating smell of unwashed bodies and filthy clothes that is the very breath of poverty”.

With intimate knowledge, our author closely observes her human characters and their animals with equal accuracy. “His eyes were his father’s, tawny and somewhat stern, but there was great sweetness of expression about the mouth. He had a character of the utmost nobility; he was wise, brave, loving, loyal, patient, chivalrous, and fastidious in his personal habits.” Which would this be?

She has good command of dialogue and natural accents.

She weaves in her usual references to Shakespeare and ancient myth and legend

My copy is a 1949 first edition published by Hodder and Stoughton inscribed to ‘Morag from Noel Jan 1950’.

Although the book jacket by J. Morton Sale was in raggedy unconnected bits it somehow managed to protect the front and back

boards for three quarters of a century. Note the preservation of blue in the gentian on the front.

These are the endpapers both front and back.

Having spent many hours watching Christopher Shaw restoring books on The Repair Shop, Jackie took great pleasure in applying his

techniques to repairing this jacket. You will see that she has pasted the parts onto a base sheet and created a spine. Study of the darkened spine in the first picture above shows by contrast how well the boards have been protected until now. Maybe, with the jacket wrapped in cellophane, they will continue for many more years to come.

This evening we dined on tasty baked gammon; piquant cheddar cheese and mustard sauce; boiled new potatoes; firm carrots and cauliflower with its chopped leaves; tender runner beans; and moist spinach, with which I drank more of the Malbec.

The Heart Of The Family

Gerard Manley Hopkins, a Jesuit priest now considered one of the greatest poets of the Victorian era, who produced beautifully descriptive philosophical sonnets inspired by his love of nature and his Christian faith; moving on to the so-called “terrible sonnets” of desolation, two of which, for example “No worst, there is none ….. speaking of “world-sorrow…….” from which comfort and even joy may ultimately be sought, as “all/ Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.”

Undoubtedly Elizabeth Goudge in her “The Heart of the Family” from 1953 was deeply influenced by Manley Hopkins as is reflected in her beautiful bucolic prose descriptions and her philosophical approach to the lives of her characters.

Shakespeare, too, is woven into her narrative with references to such as madness in Lear, jealousy in Othello, and joyful Midsummer Night’s Dream to name but a few. Just as the bard makes use of woodland in many of his plays so does Goudge in this book. Even the plant rue, commonly known as the Herb-of-Grace, is quoted in Hamlet; rue meaning remorse or regret, and The Herb of Grace being the hostelry so significant in our current work.

“The warm sun of the stormy August day was out again and beat down upon them. Here in the sheltered drive, with the rampart of the oak-trees between them and the marshes, they did not feel the wind from the sea. Through the wrought-iron gate in the wall the man could see the golden and orange glow of autumn flowers, the tall and gracious trees of an old and matured garden, and, beyond, the irregular roof of the house. ……. To the right the marshes had been splashed with colour like a painter’s palette; to the left, just at the corner of the lane that led down from the high-road, there had been cornfield bending beneath the wind. On the horizon he had seen the silver line of the sea and the estuary, with the cliffs of the Island beyond, at one moment hidden by the mists of driving rain, remote and far away, at the next leaping out under the sun in such clear distinctness that they looked like the longed-for Celestial Mountain at the end of the unending way. Then he had reached the harbour, with wild sea-asters growing beside the harbour wall and fishing-boats and yachts rocking peacefully at anchor. …… A swan had flown overhead, the rhythmic beating of its wings adding to the note of strength, and everywhere, in the wind and sun and rain, the gulls had been flying and calling……..” “The house smelled of flowers, furniture polish, baked apples, dog and tobacco” are just a few sections from the many elegantly descriptive prose paragraphs that display the author’s love of nature; her attention to the weather, to senses of sight, hearing, touch, and smell; her use of metaphor, simile, adjective and adverb, to draw the reader into her scene.

Her characters of all ages, especially young children, as in “The sheer ecstasy with which her booted feet came down in each puddle told of the depth of her capacity for happiness. …….” or older members of the household in “A door opened at the back of the hall, letting in light, and a woman came through it, a country body of immense size and immense charm. She advanced with a stately swaying motion, shifting her great weight from one foot to the other with a patient humorous determination that did not quite mask her fatigue…….” are touchingly presented with a deep knowledge of human nature and its complexities.

Each member of the family, for their different reasons and because of their varied experiences, including those of wartime, in the decade following the Second World War is suffering burning regret, remorse, and disappointment, yet hoping for joy and maybe happiness. Some carry unexpressed shame. Each is seeking truth and ultimately settling for contentment. Their deep Christian convictions affect how they manage powerful contrary desires. Clearly not all are identical in their struggles but I do not wish to publish spoilers, especially as a shared secret unknown to each of two participants emerges as an ultimate cathartic surprise.

A pivotal section of the book involves a pause at Knyghtwood forest en route to the group walking to The Herb of Grace. This is where Elizabeth Goudge adapts Shakespeare’s device of a significant woodland feature. Different couples and individuals make use of their own special places among the trees to relate and reflect.

I heartily recommend this insightful, heartwarming, and thought-provoking work.

Perhaps it is appropriate that the jacket of my Book Club Selection of 1955 has seen better days, yet still serves some protection to the browned pages within.

The storm still raged as we drove the short distance to Rokali’s for dinner this evening; when we returned the winds had dropped but the rain continued. I enjoyed my duck dhansak and two purees; Jackie chose chicken biriani. I drank Kingfisher and she drank Diet Coke. Well cooked food, friendly service, and welcome ambience were as good as always.