Jabberwocky Unbounded

Dearest Emily,

Following our Frabjous Easter Sunday walk, when we pretended we were horses galumphing on the Down,

GiGi had some time today back at the Olde Booke Shoppe, to get back to the serious business in hand- i.e; The Mystery of the Jabberwock.

This poem, I don't know why- has always been a favourite of mine- and I can recite it too. I like the way it sounds like something but you don't know what exactly.

'Twas brillig, and the slithey toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome wraths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjud bird, and shun 

The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand

Long time the manxome foe he sought-

So he rested by the Tumtum tree,

And stood a while in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgy wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two, One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

And hast though slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh, Callay!

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig and the slithey toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

So, that's the deal. But where did the story originate in Dodgson's febrile imagination Em?  I knew somehow that there was no point looking for this at Freshwater- in fact all the creatures don't seem to belong here. But I did feel that they had something to do with his childhood home and also the P.R.B's and Whitburn.

I set my thoughts aside- the time will come when all will be revealed I felt. Six weeks ago, I heard about a book that claimed a lot of character-setting in Sunderland- which interested me. However, I could not find a copy of the book anywhere for love nor money, until one came up at a Library in Durham. So I sought out an inter-library order to borrow it.

Then I forgot all about it ( and unfortunately the books I took out that day ) and so when I went along to pick it up- it was rather an expensive outing!

Here's the book Emily...

'A Town Like Alice's' by Michael Bute. The cover isn't dissimilar in design to mine, and I couldn't wait to start reading it.

Here's the info gleaned from it on the origins of the Jabberwocky. I've quoted a lot verbatim- as it's all in there;

The Legend of the Lambton Worm-

An Anglo-Saxon 'Wyrm' meant a dragon or a snake. In the Anglo-Saxon poem Beowulf; the dragon is called the Wyrm, and in nearly all the legends abounding in the North of England the worm was a monster of vast size and power. Bram Stoker also discussed the possibilities of the existence of these creatures in the Lair of the White Worm.

Many Churches in England like the one in the ancient village of Sockburn-on-Tees show worms being killed, and all of the Christian Saints to whom the killing of the dragon came to be attributed are Saints Michael, George and Catherine.

The Legend of the Lambton Worm has been recounted for centuries, puzzled over, dismissed as fiction or explained away as allegory.

Surtees wrote the 'History of Durham' in 1820 and traces John Lambton 'Knight of Rhodes' through five generations.

The second John Lambton, in the 13th Century, spent his Sundays fishing in the river Wear. He flung a catch of a worm 'of most unseemly and disgusting appearance' into a nearby well ( now known as the Worm Well. )

Allegedly, whilst the young Lambton was away fighting the Crusades, the worm moved onto the left bank of the river, and Lambton heard tales of the creature devastating the countryside- and all attempts to kill it proved abortive- since it had the power of re-uniting itself.

In 'Through the Looking Glass', Alice tries to make sense of the poem of the Jabberwocky. She says "I've cut several slices already, but they always join on again!"

On the advice of a Witch ( often good Emily, ) Lambton was told to stud his armour with spear-blades and put his trust in his crusading sword.

" He took his vorpal sword in hand, long time the manxome foe he sought"

Lancellyn Green ( Carroll's diary editor ) quoting Stuart Collingwood- states that the verse of Jabberwocky was written initially at Croft in 1855 ( Dodgson's family home- which makes sense to me  ) and added to whilst he was staying with cousins Wilcox at Whitburn near Sunderland. He suggests that the party included a mutual cousin- Menella Bute Smedley. Menella had advised Dodgson on early writings and assisted him in publications in the 'Train' and 'Comic Times'.

On one of the evenings during the visit a verse making game was held, and Jabberwocky was added to as Dodgsons contribution- intertwining the Lambton worm tale with a parody of Menella's much longer versification of a German legend 'The Shepherd of the Giant Mountains'.

In 1867, the 'Ballad of the Lambton Worm' was re-written by CM Leumane- so it was something still held topical by our Mid-Victorian focus-group.

Dodgson closely held on each word that Menella gave to him, and on the 22nd November 1871, a month before the conclusion of Through the Looking Glass that year, states in his diary-

'Heard from Menella Smedley approving of the little Christmas adddress I had sent in manuscript.'

The address with which he had introduced Alice Through the Looking Glass in a four page pamphlet, being the book which begins with the verse of Jabberwocky ( and Emily, was set to also be illustrated with Tenniels drawing of same- except Dodgson having sent it to various Mothers for comment, deemed too scary for children to open with. )

So, there we are Emily, the origins of the Jabberwocky are placed here in Dodgson's early home years, and I can clearly imagine his taste for local legend and tale.

More-over, I am excited that the journey we are taking is now leading us on to the creatures in both the Alice books ( remember the old P.R.B appreciating Ruskin who was turned into the Gryphon? ) and as we begin a new twist to the tale...

As if by magic, here at the Bookroom today...

A Gentleman was browsing the bookshelves as I scribbled notes for todays post, and as I was finishing serving somebody, he came over and said...

" So are you a Teacher? "

" No" I replied.

" So, what are you writing? "

I briefly summarised that I had written a book for my Grand-daughter, and that now I had finished it- had moved on to the creatures in Lewis Carroll's books.

" Oh", he says. " He wasn't very successfull was he?".

" Depends on how you look at it " says I  recounting Dodgson's pecuniary success, and as I am finding out ( to be recounted later ) also quite legendary benevolence financially.

Off goes said gent, telling me he has just read a bit about him in the Topography section- which he will find and show me what he meant.

Why THANK-YOU un-named Gentleman, who dropped Arthur Mee's 'The Kings England- Surrey 1938' onto my desk, from which I paraphrase here:-

Dodgson...'Took orders, but never entered the Church... He did preach from time to time, sometimes to undergraduates, but more commonly to Christ-Church servants and to children'

Etc, then-

'There were two Dodgsons, in temperament and in name... He developed into as whimsical a crank as any of the deathless company in his pages, not only in his dealings with other men, but in his work.'

And, last but not least Em, regarding this post in particular- a golden nugget to back-up Dodgson's early interest in worms stands clear in this paragraph-

' At Oxford, his genius for mathematics carried him to the foremost place; but for history and philosophy he had no taste or talent. He revealed the profoundest ignorance of Herodotus, and the examiner at last said "Well, Mr Dodgson, is there any fact mentioned by Herodotus that you do remember?"

At that Dodgson brightened up, and named with much satisfaction a Libyan tribe of which the historian recoreded nothing but that they had painted themselves red and ate apes. That came home to him indeed, for he had many friends amongst the frogs and snails of his father's parsonage, and armed worms with tiny tubes with which to conduct defensive war'.

Well, Emily, who knew?

And, with which today, I rest my utterly serendipitous case!

Sleep well, my precious,

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxxx

'Hilda-gate'. Granny's in bother Emily!

Dearest Emily,

This little Tale from the Bookroom, was certainly not on my agenda! I've been a bit quiet on the post-front I know-  well my dear- it's all because I made fun about someone who didn't exist.

I know Emily, that doesn't make sense, and I shall try at the end of this little tale, to draw a useful moral from it for you.

So this is how it goes...

I'm genning up on Anne Thackeray-Ritchie currently, as you know. Since my interest became a focus on Julia's style and her direct influence here on Bloomsbury and its' set, Anny has become a key-player. The more I read about her- the more I feel this- and focussing on her, reflects back on getting more of a sense of who Julia was in a funny sort of way.

Just today, I read a little piece in this book 'The Hidden Houses of Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell' by Vanessa Curtis. It was about Anny and how Julia took some responsibility for predicting her Brother-In -Law- Leslie Stephen's romantic attachment with Julia's niece Julia Duckworth. Apparently Julia put it about that they met at a Ball at Dimbola. This is amusing, as an insight into Julia- who more than once felt she was solely responsible for romantic unions, and also that she called such a gathering a 'Ball, held in the panelled Ball-room at Dimbola'. Unless the gallery where the shop is now located was once panelled ( we shall have to investigate more, ) then the room referred to is the Entrance Hall, which as a Ballroom wouldn't have had a lot of space for dancing! Anyhow, all food for thought.

So, back to my bother. I had begun the last blog-post with Anny's famous quote-

'Is there no one who is commonplace here? Is everybody either a poet, or a genius, or a painter, or peculiar in some way?'

It struck me then, as it strikes me again particularly over the last week that some things don't change!

I made the quote into a Poster for the Tearoom as my Chairman requested, and that should have been that really.

But it wasn't.

Amongst my emails were a thread that had been sent as a 'round-Robin' by someone locally. I don't always get round to reading these I'm ashamed to say, though I mean to, but saw my name come up in some of the text. So, I opened it, and read that I was allegedly 'looking for Hilda Norris'. Oh hec, I thought ( explanation later ) how did that happen? Then, I read further- aghast to see that not only had I been flagged up as looking for someone- but that 'apparently, she was the only 'commonplace' woman ever to enter Dimbola'. Followed to my dismay, by a series of people suggesting families of that name who had resided in Freshwater!  Oeer...

I thought back- and can only surmise this.. After I've put up a blog-post, the link goes to my own facebook page- which is locked down to my friends only. 
I received a comment after the last one- containing a jesting bit of banter about a spoof bit of research someone had done about one- Hilda Norris 'allegedly the only commonplace woman to enter Dimbola', to which I had jokingly responded that this fellow should come along to Lynn Truss' talk and see if she knew anything about her. Lynn's fabulous Novel Tennysons-Gift is a suggestion of how characters might have related to each other, and very much the spirit of the tradition of the lampoon, the satire, spoof and humorous conjecture that Dodgson himself championed.

So, light-hearted banter ended there- but grew into a right little monster for me in this email thread. I interjected quite innocently at the time- to say it was not serious. Then, all of a sudden, I became the Hell-Monstress who had 'wasted people's time, and obviously wasn't a Founder Member of the JMCT'.
Oh my, Emily- I hadn't seen that one coming! Apparently, the fellow who had the gall to make her up is now being sought out for a flogging too...

Red-rag to Freshwater Bull, now it seems, that quite without my help or hindrance, the lovely Hilda has begun to take on a life of her own. Her name keeps cropping up here and there, with anecdote and rumour. The Board gave her several 'asides' last week at their meeting. Several volunteers now give her regular mention- and a member of Staff suggested that the family here-abouts by the name of Norris might like to join in the fun.

So, Emily- time to draw some sort of moral for my little Grandaughter with the supposed wisdom I have gleaned over the years. Maybe I should start theorising to you about not putting your head above any parapets. Or, that the Evil Facebook is to be eschewed for all time. Or, that you should take life a little more seriously than your feckless Grandmother has done.

But Emily, looking at your little mischievous face, and flattering myself that I know something about your essence of character, I say this...

Do you think Hilda was a Gardener- and she spent most of her time in this little potting shed?

After all Emily, she has certainly sewn a few seeds around hereabouts.

And Emily, don't you think perhaps that her alleged illegitimate Great-Great-Grandaughter whose 'autograph' my dear friend Bob found in a book inside cover today for me...

might have been the Lady who said...

" There isn't anyone who is commonplace here. Everybody is either a poet, or a painter, or peculiar in some way ".

( Though Em, apparently, allegedly, she only said that to counter the slur on her Great-Great-Grand-Mother's commonplace-ness, and has been heard to mention somewhat agressiveley at times- after all she now resides at the Nook nursing home- that her Great-Great-Grandmother's autobiographical 'Tales from the Potting Shed' were- contrary to popular belief, not all burned by the family. )

I do know that your Great-Grandad would have approved, if he had been lucky enough to be here still and know you.

That's good-enough for me.

A tout-a l'heure Emily!

Your ever-loving Grand-mother GiGi xxx

Linking Freshwater to Bloomsbury- Anne Thackeray Ritchie

Dearest Emily,

A sixteen year old girl came to visit the Isle of Wight in 1853. She was the daughter of William Makepeace Thackeray, the Author of many Victorian novels including 'Vanity Fair'. Mr Makepeace like Julia, had been born in India, and came to England, his family suffering financial losses- which appeared to drive him to write as much as possible- as family poverty had also driven Dickens.
Anne Thackeray spent most of her childhood in Paris, living with her Grandparents ( her Mother had been suicidal and when she tried to drown Anny's sister Minny in the bath, she was institutionalised. )
Papa Thackeray's fortunes rose, and the girls were once more able to live with him.

Anny remarked on her first visit...

And just over a decade later, in January 1864, following their Father's untimely death, she and her sister were brought down into the protective bosom of the Freshwater Circle under Julia Margaret Cameron and Tennyson's wings.
They stayed a few months, though were unlikely to have been around when Dodgson visited that year. They would probably have been aware of each other even if they did not actually meet- I have not come across any mention of CLD or his works in Anny's correspondences.
Anny and Minny were to become a part of the truth of her casual teenage remark in 1853, though quite how big an influence comes much later in her life and the way her descendents intertwined and inspired each other.
In the period of our focus, Anny was becoming a writer in her own right and she published "The End of a Long Day's Work," in the Cornhill Magazine in August of this year.
Anny was very fond of her 'adopted family' at Freshwater and spoke of Julia's kindness towards her. She also worshipped Tennyson, and even wrote a novel very scarcely veiled on the Circle entitled 'From an Island' in 1877.
Julia as we would expect, photographed her;

This photograph of Anne was taken by Julia in May 1870. 

It is later, when Mr and Mrs Cameron had upped sticks,  and left for Ceylon (along with two coffins an a cow)  that Anny's influence on the Bloomsbury group becomes intertwined with Julia and her own Bohemian legacy. Julia's sister Maria, had a daughter Julia who was first married to Herbert Duckworth, who died suddenly when Maria's children were still infants. Julia was her aunt's favourite model, and for me here is an example of one of her best early successes.

Anny's sister Minny was married to Leslie Stephen, and Minny died suddenly aged just 35. In time a friendship between the widow Julia and the widower Leslie Stephen deepened and they married. They had four children of their own- of which one Virginia Woolf is notable for our links.
Virginia is said to have been heavily influenced by the inspiration of Anne Thackeray, who in 1877 became Anne Thackeray Ritchie when she married her cousin Richmond. They had a house in Freshwater close to Dimbola called 'The Porch'.

Anny is described as absent-minded and with a good sense of humour. My interest in the Mid-Victorians- particularly the Freshwater Circle, and how the Bloombsury set were inspired by them - uses Anny as a key player by family links alone. Her literary accomplishments flesh this out further.

One day, last Autumn when I was putting together a little post about Thomas Hood who was a favourite comic poet amongst the mid-vics, I came across this particular volume of his works;

I decided this was one that I needed to buy, and so worked for virtually nothing that day. Nothing new there, Emily- books have a habit of becoming a habit.

Reading it later at home, I noticed the inscription;

This does look rather like Julia Margaret Cameron's writing! And Anny was at Freshwater on that date. The only thing that's amiss- is tat it says 'Annie' not Anny. A mistake on Julia's part perhaps-she could be careless, or it could be a different Annie, and a different Julia. But it might be Emily, and I shall treasure it anyhow!

Signing off,

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxx

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Dearest Emily,

Well, you never know when you are going to get your next nugget of information.
I just popped up to the Post Office as I had been told that they had a Victorian engraving of Plumbly's Hotel that I might be interested in for the book. Here it is!

That was a treat in itself- and as I'm editing the layout this afternoon round at Bob's, I shall add it in to the manuscript, and we are almost done. But, Em- that isn't the exciting bit- do you remember me telling you that there was a lady with the surname Dodgson who lived in Gigi's house until she died in 2001? It may have been subconsciously another of the triggers that set me off on my quest. Anyhow- beyond the fact that she served at St Agnes Church, and allegedly witnessed the Arch Rock falling down in the Bay in 1992- I have failed to get any more info on her- try as I might. Until today that is.

I do have a theory about her, but I shall save that until I've got all my 'ducks in a row'.

Back to this morning. So, I paid for the lovely engraving, and the chap behind the counter says,

" Did you know that there was a Lady who used to live in the Bay, who claimed to be a relative of Charles Dodgson? "

I did.

I did not know how helpful this little chat was going to be. Apparently she used to clean for the Post Office family, and a picture of her is currently being looked for. More-over her name was not Anne- as previously thought; but actually Helen Anne Dodgson. Whilst I was then queuing to send off my Ebay parcels, David was carrying out some investigations on what turns out to be a favourite hobby- Family History.

He calls me back over to his counter- and produces her date and place of birth- and her mothers surname. Five minutes later and we had struck gold- at least in my 'investigation-rock'.

Anne was a name that carried through the Dodgson-line. Margaret Anne was the name of one Charles sisters, and the name Anne is carried through the line way back to the 1600's.

Helen Anne Dodgson was born in Paddington in 1922. Her Mother's surname was Roper.

There's a Margaret Dodgson ( possibly sister ? ) born September 1920 in Richmond.

Five minutes later- he has found John Charles Dodgson who died in the 1940's and was married to Harriet Helen Roper. What interests me most about this is that they lived at the time of his death in Eastbourne, which was another of Charles Dodgsons stomping grounds...

More as I find it Em- think they could be descendents of Charles' brother Wilfred who married Alice Jane Donkin, first photographed below by Charles on 9th October 1862 ( he married her in 1871 )

Until next time,

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxx