THE WOODS, THE LANES, AND THE FIELDS
I've been dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedgerows
of England;
They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden;
Thinking of lanes and of fields, and the song of the lark and the
linnet.
When Mrs. Allingham finally, I will not say determined to cut herself
away from figure painting, but by the influence of her surroundings
drifted away from it, she did not, as so many do, become the
delineator of a single phase of landscape art. Her journeyings in
search of subjects for some years were neither many nor extensive,
for a paintress with a family growing up around her has not the same
opportunities as a painter. He can leave his incumbrances in charge of
his wife, and his work will probably benefit by an occasional flitting
from home surroundings. But a mother's work would not thrive away from
her children even if absence was possible, which it probably was not in
Mrs. Allingham's case. Hence we find that the ground she has covered
has been almost entirely confined to what are termed the Home Counties,
with an occasional diversion to the Isle of Wight, Dorsetshire,
Gloucestershire, and Cheshire. In the Home Counties, Surrey and Kent
have furnished most of her material, the former naturally being
oftenest drawn upon during her life at Witley, and the latter since she
lived in London, whither she returned in the year 1888. This inability
to roam about whither she chose was doubtless helpful in compelling
her to vary her subjects, for she would of necessity have to paint
whatever came within her reach. But her energy also had its share, for
it enabled her to search the whole countryside wherever she was, and
gather in a dozen suitable scenes where another might only discover one.
As evidence of this we may instance the case of the corner of Kent
whither she has gone again and again of late, and where in the present
year she has still been able to find ample material to her liking.
A visit to this somewhat out-of-the-way spot, which lies in Kent in
an almost identically similar position to that which Witley does in
Surrey, namely, in the extreme south-west corner, shows how she has
found material everywhere. In the mile that separates the station from
the farmhouse where she encamps, she shows a cottage that she has
painted from every side, a brick kiln that she has her eye on, an old
yew, and a clump of elms that has been most serviceable. Arriving at
the farm-gate she points to the modest floral display in front that
has sufficed for "In the Farmhouse Garden" (Plate 2), whilst over the
way are the buildings of "A Kentish Farmyard" (Plate 58). Entering the
house the visitor may not be much impressed with the view from her
sitting-room window, but under the artist's hands it has become the
silvern sheet of daisies reproduced in Plate 38. "On the Pilgrims' Way"
(Plate 41) is a field or so away, whilst a short walk up the downs
behind the house finds us in the presence of the originals of Plates 32
and 36. A drive across the vale and we have Crockham Hill, whence comes
Plate 40, and Ide Hill, Plate 55.
A ramble round these scenes, whilst a most enjoyable matter to any
one born to an appreciation of the country, was in truth not the
inspiration that would be imagined to the writer of the text, for he
had seen, for instance, the daintily conceived water-colour of "Ox-eye
Daisies" (Plate 38), painted a year ago, and he arrived at the field
to find this year's crop a failure, and on a day in which the distant
woods were hardly visible; the scene of the "Foxgloves" had all the
underwood grown up, and only a stray spike suggestive of the glory
of past years; gipsy tramps on the road to "berrying" (strawberry
gathering) conjured up no visions of the tenant of Mrs. Allingham's
"Spring on the Kentish Downs," but only a horrible thought of the
strawberries defiled by being picked by their hands.
This description of the variety of the artist's work within a single
small area will show that it is somewhat difficult to classify it for
consideration. However, one or two arrangements and rearrangements of
the drawings which illustrate these phases of the artist's output seem
to bring them best into the following divisions: woods, lanes, and
fields; cottages; and gardens. These we shall therefore consider in
this and the following chapters, dealing here with the first of them.
Midway in her life at Witley, The Fine Art Society induced Mrs.
Allingham to undertake, as the subject for an Exhibition, the portrayal
of the countryside under its four seasonal aspects of spring, summer,
autumn, and winter. She completed her task, and the result was shown
in 1886 in an Exhibition, but a glance at the catalogue shows in which
direction her preference lay; for whilst spring and summer between
them accounted for more than fifty pictures, only seven answered for
autumn, and six, of which one half were interiors, illustrated winter.
These proportions may not perhaps have represented the ratio of her
affections, but of her physical ability to portray each of the seasons.
Autumn leaves and tints no doubt appealed to her artistic eye as much
as spring or summer hues, but for some reason, perhaps that of health,
illustrations were few and far between of the time of year
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In so selecting she differed from Mr. Ruskin, who has laid it down that
"a tree is never meant to be drawn with all its leaves on, any more
than a day when its sun is at noon. One draws the day in its morning
or eventide, the tree in its spring or autumn dress." This naturally
exaggerated dictum is the contrary of Mrs. Allingham's practice. She
almost invariably waits for the trees until they have completely
donned their spring garb, and leaves them ere they doff their summer
dress.
The drawings of the woods, lanes, and fields which Mrs. Allingham has
selected for illustration here comprise six of spring, three of summer,
and two of autumn, winter being unrepresented. They are culled as to
seven from Kent, three from Surrey, and a single one from Hertfordshire.
Taking them in their seasonal order we may discuss them as follows:--
[Illustration:
32. SPRING ON THE KENTISH DOWNS
_From the Water-colour in the possession of Mrs. Beddington._
Painted 1900.]
Out of the city, far away
With spring to-day!
Where copses tufted with primrose
Give one repose.
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
That the joy of spring is a never-failing subject for poets, any one
may see who turns over the pages of the numerous compilations which
now treat of Nature. I doubt, however, whether they receive a higher
pleasure from it than does the townsman who can only walk afield at
rare intervals, and whose first visit to the country each year is taken
at Eastertide. He probably has no eye save for the contrasts which he
experiences to his daily life, of scene, air, and vitality, but these
will certainly infect him with a healthier love of life than is enjoyed
by those who live amongst them and see them come and go.
Fortunate is the man who can visit these Kentish downs at a time when
the breath of spring is touching everything, when the eastern air makes
one appreciate the shelter that the hazel copses fringing their sides
afford, an appreciation which is shared by the firs which hug their
southern slopes.
It is very early spring in this drawing. The highest trees show no sign
of it save at their outermost edges. Hazels alone, and they only in the
shelter, have shed their flowery tassels, and assumed a leafage which
is still immature in colour. The sprawling trails of the traveller's
joy, which rioted over everything last autumn, are still without any
trace of returning vitality.
[Illustration:
33. TIG BRIDGE
_From the Water-colour in the possession of Mr. E. S. Curwen._
Painted 1887.]
Here the white ray'd anemone is born,
Wood-sorrel, and the varnish'd buttercup;
And primrose in its purfled green swathed up,
Pallid and sweet round every budding thorn.
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
This little sequestered bridge would hardly seem to be of sufficient
importance to deserve a name, nor for the matter of that the streamlet,
the Tigbourne, which runs beneath it, but on the Hindhead slope
streams of any size are scarce, and therefore call for notice. Bridges
resemble stiles in being enforced loitering places, for whilst there
is no effort which compels a halt in crossing bridges, as there is
with stiles, there is the sense of mystery which underlies them, and
expectancy as to what the water may contain. Especially is this so for
youth; and so here we have boy and girl who pause on their way from
bluebell gathering, whilst the former makes belief of fishing with the
thread of twine which youngsters of his age always find to hand in one
or other of their pockets.
[Illustration:
34. SPRING IN THE OAKWOOD
_From the Water-colour in the possession of the Artist._
Painted 1903.]
We have elsewhere remarked on the rare occasions on which Mrs.
Allingham utilises sunlight and shadow. Here, however, is one of them,
and one which shows that it is from no incapacity to do so, for it is
now introduced with a difficult effect, namely, blue flowers under
a low raking light. The artist's eye was doubtless attracted by the
unusual visitation of a bright warm sun on a spring day, and determined
to perpetuate it.
The wood in which the scene is laid is on the Kentish Downs, where, as
the distorted boughs show, the winds are always in evidence.
The juxtaposition of the two primaries, blue and yellow, is always a
happy one in nature, but specially is it so when we have such a mass of
sapphire blue.
Blue, gentle cousin of the forest green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers--
Forget-me-not, the bluebell, and that queen
Of secrecy the violet.
[Illustration:
35. THE CUCKOO
_From the Water-colour in the possession of Mr. A. Hugh Thompson._
Painted about 1887.]
In a recent "One Man Exhibition" by that refined artist Mr. Eyre
Walker, there was a very unusual drawing entitled "Beauty for Ashes."
The entire foreground was occupied with a luxuriant growth of purple
willow loosestrife, intermixed with the silvery white balls of down
from seeding nipplewort. Standing gaunt from this intermingling,
luxuriant crop, were the charred stems of burnt fir trees, whilst
the living mass of their fellows formed an agreeable background. The
subject must have attracted many travellers on the South-Western
Railway as they passed Byfleet; it did so in Mr. Walker's case to the
extent that he stayed his journey and painted it.
In that case this beautiful display had, as the title to the picture
hints, arisen from the ashes of a forest. A spark from a train had set
fire to the wood, and had apparently destroyed every living thing in
its course. But such is Nature that out of death sprang life. So it has
been with the coppice here, and in the oakwood scene which preceded
it. The cutting down and clearing of the wood has brought sun, air, and
rain to the soil, and as a consequence have followed the
Sheets of hyacinth
That seem the heavens upbreaking thro' the earth.
The drawing takes its name from the cuckoo whose note has arrested the
children's attention.
[Illustration:
36. THE OLD YEW TREE
_From the Water-colour in the possession of the Artist._
Painted 1903.]
The sad yew is seen
Still with the black cloak round his ancient wrongs.
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
One of many that are dotted about the southern slopes of the Westerham
Downs, and that, not only here but all along the line of the Pilgrims'
Way, are regarded as having their origin in these devotees. The drawing
was made in the early part of the present year, when the primroses and
violets were out, but before there was anything else, save the blossom
of the willow, to show that
The spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly!
To give the world high holiday.
[Illustration:
37. THE HAWTHORN VALLEY, BROCKET
_From the Water-colour in the possession of Lord Mount-Stephen._
Painted 1898.]
It is somewhat remarkable that the most impressive flower-show that
Nature presents to our notice, namely, when, as May passes into June,
the whole countryside is decked with a bridal array of pure white,
should have taken hold of but few of our poets.
Shakespeare, of course, recognised it in lines which make one smile at
the idea that they could ever have been composed by a town-bred poet:--
O what a life were this! How sweet, how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery.
Another, in the person of Mrs. Allingham's husband, penned a sonnet
upon it containing the following happy description:--
Cluster'd pearls upon a robe of green,
And broideries of white bloom.
The scene of this drawing is laid in the park at Brocket Hall, to which
reference is made in connection with a subsequent illustration (Plate
65). The park is full of ancient timber, one great oak on the border of
the two counties (Herts and Beds) being mentioned in Doomsday Book, and
another going by the name of Queen Elizabeth's oak, from the tradition
that the Princess was sitting under it when the news reached her that
she was Queen of England.[10] The Hawthorn Valley runs for nearly a
mile from one of the park entrances towards the more woodland part of
the estate, and was formerly used as a private race-course.
The artist has treated a very difficult subject with success, as any
one, especially an amateur, who has tried to portray masses of hawthorn
blossom will readily admit. Any attempt to draw the flowers and fill in
the foliage is hopeless, and it can only be done, as in this case, by
erasure. Hardly less difficult to accomplish are the delicate fronds of
the young bracken, unfolding upwards by inches a day, which can only
be treated suggestively. In the original, which is on a somewhat large
scale, the middle distance is enlivened with browsing rabbits, but the
very considerable reduction of the drawing has reduced these to a size
which renders them hardly distinguishable.
[Illustration:
38. OX-EYE DAISIES, NEAR WESTERHAM, KENT
_From the Water-colour in the possession of the Artist._
Painted 1902.]
Whilst no Exhibition passes nowadays which has not one or more
representations of the "blithe populace" of daisies, the fashion has
only come in of late years. Even the Flemings, who were so partial to
the flowers of the field, seem to have considered it beneath their
notice--a strange occurrence, because one can hardly turn over the
pages of any missal of a corresponding epoch without coming upon many a
faithful representation of the rose-encircled orb.
Chaucer extolled it
Above all the flow'res in the mead
Then love I most these flow'res white and red,
Such that men callen daisies in our town.
And much content it gave him
To see this flow'r against the sunne spread.
When it upriseth early by the morrow
That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow.
He recognised its name of "day's eye," because it opens and closes its
flower with the daylight, in the lines--
The daisie or els the eye of the daie,
The emprise and the floure of floures alle.
In fact it was a favourite with English poets long before it came under
the notice of English painters. Witness Milton's well-known line--
Meadows trim with daisies pied.
It was not until the epoch of the pre-Raphaelite brethren that the
daisies which pie the meadows seemed worthy of perpetuation, and it was
reserved to Frederick Walker, in his "Harbour of Refuge," to limn them
on a lawn falling beneath the scythe.
The flower that Mrs. Allingham has painted with so much skill--for
it is a very difficult undertaking to suggest a mass of daisies
without too much individualising--is not, of course, the field daisy
(_bellis perennis_) but the ox-eye, or moon daisy, which is really
a chrysanthemum (_chrysanthemum leucanthemum_), a plant which seems
to have increased very much of late years, especially on railway
embankments, maybe because it has come into vogue, and actually
been advanced to a flower worthy of gathering and using as a table
decoration, an honour that would never have been bestowed on it a
quarter of a century ago.
The drawing was made from the window of the farmhouse in Kent, to
which, as we have said, Mrs. Allingham runs down at all seasons. It
was evidently made on a glorious summer day, when every flower had
expanded to its utmost under the delicious heat of a ripening sun. The
bulbous cloudlet which floats in front of the whiter strata, and the
blueness of the distant woods may augur rain in the near future, but
for the moment everything appears to be in a serenely happy condition,
except perhaps the farmer, who would fain see a crop in which there was
less flower and more grass.
[Illustration:
39. FOXGLOVES
_From the Water-colour in the possession of Mrs. C. A. Barton._
Painted 1898.]
Foxgloves have appealed to Mrs. Allingham for portrayal in more than
one locality in England, but never in greater luxuriance than on
this Kentish woodside, where their spikes overtop the sweet little
sixteen-year-old faggot-carrier. It happens to be another instance of a
magnificent crop springing up the first year after a growth of saplings
have been cleared away, and not to be repeated even in this year of
grace (1903) when the newspapers have been full of descriptions of the
unwonted displays of foxgloves everywhere, and have been taunting the
gardeners upon their poor results in comparison with Nature's.
[Illustration:
40. HEATHER ON CROCKHAM HILL, KENT
_From the Water-colour in the possession of the Artist._
Painted 1902.]
It is perhaps a fallacy, or at least heresy, to assert that English
heather bears away the palm for beauty over that of the country with
which it is more popularly associated. But many, I am sure, will agree
with me that nowhere in Scotland is any stretch of heather to be found
which can eclipse in its magnificence of colour that which extends
for mile after mile over Surrey and Kentish commonland in mid August.
In the summer in which this drawing was painted it was especially
noticeable as being in more perfect bloom than it had been known to be
for many seasons.
[Illustration:
41. ON THE PILGRIMS' WAY
_From the Water-colour in the possession of the Artist._
Painted 1902.]
I was taken to task by Mrs. Allingham a while ago for saying that her
affections were not so set upon the delineation of harvesting
as were those of most landscapists, and she stated that she had painted
the sheafed fields again and again. But I held to my assertion, and
proof comes in this drawing just handed to me. Not one artist in ten
would, I am certain, have sat down to his subject on this side of the
hedge, but would have been over the stile, and made his foreground
of the shorn field and stacked sheaves, breaking their monotony of
form and colour by the waggon and its attendant labourers. But Mrs.
Allingham could not pass the harvest of the hedge, and was satisfied
with just a peep of the corn through the gap formed by the stile. It
is not surprising, for who that is fond of flowers could pass such a
gladsome sight as the display which Nature has so lavishly offered
month after month the summer through to those who cared to notice it.
In May the hedge was white with hawthorn, in June gay with dog-roses
and white briar, in July with convolvuli and woodbine, and now again in
August comes the clematis and the blackberry flower.
[Illustration:
42. NIGHT-JAR LANE, WITLEY
_From the Drawing in the possession of Mr. E. S. Curwen._
Painted 1887.]
One of those steep self-made roads which the passage of the seasons
rather than of man has furrowed and deepened in "the flow of the deep
still wood," a lodgment for the leaves from whose depths that charming
lament of the dying may well have arisen,--
Said Fading Leaf to Fallen Leaf,
"I toss alone on a forsaken tree,
It rocks and cracks with every gust that rocks
Its straining bulk: say! how is it with thee?"
Said Fallen Leaf to Fading Leaf,
"A heavy foot went by, an hour ago;
Crush'd into clay, I stain the way;
The loud wind calls me, and I cannot go."
The name "Night-Jar," by which this lane is known, is unusual, and
probably points to its having been a favourite hunting-ground for a
seldom-seen visitant, for which it seems well-fitted. The name may
well date back to White of Selborne's time, who lived not far away,
and termed the bird "a wonderful and curious creature," which it must
be if, as he records, it commences its jar, or note, every evening
so exactly at the close of day that it coincided to a second with the
report--which he could distinguish in summer--of the Portsmouth evening
gun.
Night-jars are most deceptive in their flight, one or two giving an
illusion of many by their extremely rapid movements and turns; and they
may well have been very noticeable to persons in the confined space
of this gully, especially as the observer in his evening stroll would
probably stir up the moths, which are the bird's favourite food, and
which would attract it into his immediate vicinity. How much interest
would be added to a countryside were the lanes all fitted with titles
such as this.