Ravilious in Essex

Those Essex radicals made an appearance in the Guardian the day after I wrote my last blog, in a piece on Eric Ravilious. The article quotes from Ravilious’s letters, and in particular how he tells of going to hear “communist sermons” in Thaxted – clearly a reference to Conrad Noel, though the Red Vicar himself goes unmentioned in the article. The point being made was that Ravilious was a self-declared socialist, but at the same time was never really that engaged, or at least never let politics cloud his sunny, optimistic approach to life and art.

Vicarage (1935)

The article accompanies a great exhibition at the Fry Gallery in Saffron Walden which I visited yesterday. The show brings together 18 landscapes that Ravilious produced of scenes in North West Essex, where he lived from 1930. The accompanying text points out that Ravilious was perhaps more inspired by the ancient landscapes of Sussex and Wiltshire, but that there was plenty of quotidian interest to occupy him in Essex – views from attic windows, scenes of farms and fields, and interiors such as The Attic Bedroom (which is part of the Fry Gallery’s permanent collection). I liked Observers’ Post, a scene from 1939 showing war preparations on the home front. I had not realised before yesterday that Ravilious was the first official War Artist to be killed in action in 1942, while on a search-and-rescue mission, at the age of 39.

Two Women in the Garden (detail) (c1933)

James Russell’s recent books on Ravilious in Pictures look great – more can be seen on his blog. He’s created a useful map of the sites in Essex associated with Ravilious. I made a note to try to go to his talk in Saffron Walden on 13 July.

Radical Essex folk

I've been enjoying Rob Young's book Electric Eden, an exhaustive study of the folk tradition in English popular culture over the last century and a bit, from William Morris to Kate Bush, Talk Talk and Julian Cope. I was also pleased to watch a new film by Tony Palmer about Gustav Holst, In the Bleak Midwinter (still available on iPlayer, but not for much longer). The two are linked, because Rob Young discusses Holst's role (along with that of Vaughan Williams) in the folk revival of the early 20th century. Both the film and the book also highlight Thaxted in Essex as a particularly important venue for radicalism - a somewhat surprising history given the village's idyllic and tranquil appearance today.

I'm always pleased to be surprised by some new fact or aspect of a place (or a person) that completely undermines any assumptions or preconceptions that one might have had of it (or them). It was fascinating to discover for example in Tony Palmer's film, that Cheltenham (where Holst was born) had such strong Indian links in the 19th century. It was the place that many members of the Indian Civil Service retired to, so much so that it became known as the town of the 'curry eating colonels'. Holst was to develop a fascination with Indian culture, learning Sanskrit and writing an opera based on an episode in the Ramayana. 

Holst discovered Thaxted in 1913, while on a countryside ramble. He was to spend time in a cottage nearby  and later to move permanently to a fine house on the high street. Significantly, he formed an alliance with Thaxted's radical vicar, Conrad Noel, known as the 'Red Vicar' of Thaxted.  Noel was a socialist who 'hung the red flag and the flag of Sinn Féin alongside the flag of St George in the Church' leading to the so-called 'Battle of the Flags', when undergraduates from Cambridge travelled to the Church to tear such visible provocations down.

Together, Holst and Noel created the Thaxted Whitsun Festival in 1916. Rob Young has a good description:

"Even in the midst of war, the first Whitsun Festival shines out as the moment English music lost its inhibitions and erupted into a cascade of spontaneous music-making. In this remote village, Holst created a four-day temporary autonomous zone, and orgy of colour, music and movement on the village green during which William Morris's desire for an art that would fill all corners of life and spill over into common experience was realised."

There is still a festival that takes place every year, as well as a Morris weekend in early June that is well worth visiting for the performance of the Abbot's Bromley Horn Dance.

Holst and Noel were not the only radicals living in this pastoral idyll. Noel had been granted the living by the socialist Daisy Countess of Warwick, owner of nearby Easton Lodge. Many of the radical figures of the day were regular visitors to Easton Lodge, including George Bernard Shaw and HG Wells, who lived in a house on the estate. Wells based Claverings park in his novel 'Mr Britling Sees it Through' on Easton Lodge, and the opening pages of that book contain a description of this corner of Essex as it was in the early 20th century:

"There is a gap in the suburbs of London. The suburbs of London stretch west and south and even west by north, but to the north-eastward there are no suburbs; instead there is Essex. Essex is not a suburban county; it is a characteristic and individualised county which wins the heart. Between dear Essex and the centre of things lie two great barriers, the East End of London and Epping Forest. Before a train could get to any villadom with a cargo of season-ticket holders it would have to circle about this rescued woodland and travel for twenty unprofitable miles, and so once you are away from the main Great Eastern lines Essex still lives in the peace of the eighteenth century, and London, the modern Babylon, is, like the stars, just a light in the nocturnal sky. In Matching's Easy, as Mr. Britling presently explained to Mr. Direck, there are half-a-dozen old people who have never set eyes on London in their lives—and do not want to."

Stansted Mountfitchet

I took our two boys (three and one) on a trip to a castle yesterday. Stansted Mountfitchet castle is a rare thing - an original motte and bailey site, on which an entire Norman castle has been recreated. Simon Jenkins recently wrote in the Guardian about how we needed to lighten up in our treatment of ruins - let us build a roof over Stonehenge, that sort of thing. I suppose Stansted Mountfitchet is as good an example as any. In the promotional video shown in the cafe, there is a reference to years of struggles with the planning authorities to enable the thing to be 'restored', which doesn't suprise me at all. Not that the good people of Stansted itself followed such niceties - we were repeatedly reminded in the video that the reason a stone castle does not survive is because local people robbed out all the building stone after King John sacked the place in 1215 (Baron de Mountfitchet had been one of the 25 barons chosen to enforce Magna Carta).

So what was it like? The Castle opened as a visitor attraction in c.1985, and the whole thing was sort of 'Jorvic-lite'. It would be easy to be critical though. The fact is, I saw lots of people really enjoying themselves, whether learning about the history of domestic life in medieval England or interacting with the menagerie of animals that roam the compound freely. There were some quite gruesome tableaux in some of the reconstructed buildings - the dungeons were particularly dramatic, as these pictures show:

I wondered whether the waxwork dummy approach was the right one - a better resourced version would have costumed interpreters roaming the grounds, maybe practising some of the crafts that were depicted. But then the dummies have a certain charm of their own.

Anyway, the visit divided neatly into two different experiences for us - the castle first, and then, after lunch, the toy museum on the same site. I really enjoyed that - a museum stuffed full of the history of toys from the 1930s to c.1985. Oddly, they had Princess Diana's chopper bike. But the collection seemed hardly to have been updated since 1985 - hence, the tantalising beginnings of a display of home computer heritage ended with the ZX Spectrum 128k. Now that's what I call authentic.

More seaside heritage

Another Folkestone landmark was the Rotunda. Designed by David Pleydell-Bouverie, John Betjeman cited this as one of his five favourite modern buildings in a poll taken in 1939. Playful in design it might have been, but I remember it as a fairly grim affair as an amusement arcade in the 1980s, soiled and unlovely, stuffed full of bleeping digital and mechanical boxes of fun. This is all that remains of it - a circular footprint on the concrete plain at the foot of the Leas.Others have documented its demise - here and here and here. A shame, perhaps, that a future could not be found for this aspect of Folkestone's heritage, taking a leaf out of Southwold's book.

Folkestone, Lifted

Folkestone was where I was born and raised, and where I lived until I was 18. Its economic decline more or less coincided with my arrival; its rebirth with my departure. I'm not taking it too personally. The Evening Standard recently ran a story in its Homes & Properties section encouraging speculatively minded readers to buy now - thanks to the high speed line and the property crash. (A similar article can be seen here.)

Folkestone's reinvention as the Padstow of Kent surely owes much to the Creative Foundation which has steathily been buying up as much as possible of the Old High Street. Walking up the cobbled street this weekend, almost every shop seemed to have been renovated and turned into gallery space or studios.

There are other reasons too why Folkestone can be proud of the way it has treated its heritage. When the famous Leas Lift was threatened with closure, local people organised themselves into a campaign and saved it. It's now being run by a community interest company, and seemed pretty well cared for to me. Folkestone lifted indeed.

Cobblers

Staying in Sandgate this weekend, I learned that FT Moore's footwear shop had closed down.

Fred Moore had worked there since the 1930s, and his shop seemed to have hardly changed in all that time.

But it's empty now. Just a plaintive sign in the door to remind us of the purpose of the shop

 I wonder what will become of it