Little Gidding

A tiny chapel, hidden deep in the Northamptonshire countryside, famous for its piety, for being a religious retreat for nearly 400 years, and as the subject of a twentieth century poem written by T.S.Eliot.

By some strange co-incidence, 45 years after I first came upon this poem, I visited yesterday, in a strangely apt "midwinter spring" - a brilliant, blinding sunny afternoon in February.


Here is a picture of

"the hedgerow ... blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden than that of summer, neither budding nor fading...."

And here is the picture of what the poet says you will find later in the year:

"If you came this way in may time, you would find the hedges
White again, in May, with voluptuary sweetness..."

I knew nothing about the place when the "Collected Poems of T.S.Eliot" appeared on a college reading list when I was 20.  As far as I was aware, the title of the poem meant nothing, the whole thing was an arid intellectual exercise by a brainbox who bemused everyone, even the academics.

Now it makes sense.

The "broken king" is Charles I, who, escaping after defeat at the Battle of Naseby, took refuge with his friends, the Farrar family who owned the chapel and manor house.

The "rough road" is still very rough, a country track, literally at the end of the road - there's nothing else there except the farm-house, (now a religious retreat). The pig-sty is gone, but the tombstone is still in place, right in front of what Eliot calls the "dull facade".

My picture shows the facade, rather dignified, in my view.  The tombstone is in the bottom right of the picture, it is the tomb of Nicholas Farrar, died 1637.

Inside, there is an atmosphere of calm, serenity, and deep reverence. 

We are told very clearly that we should not come to gawp as tourists - this is a place of prayer:

The above is piece of embroidery, in which has been laid out some lines from Eliot's poem:

The poet has laid down his strictures.

But as a visitor I do want to "inform curiosity" and "carry report".

I do want to verify, and instruct myself, and the information leaflets in the chapel give assistance, explaining the stained glass, for example:

"Dieu et mon droit" - a nineteenth century rendition of the Royal Coat of Arms in memory of the visit of Charles I.

England, at its richest and most inspiring.  

Burnt Norton, the first of Four Quartets by T S Eliot

I still have my copy of the Collected Poems of TS Eliot, bought whilst studying English Literature  years ago.  I needed it last week.  You will see why.

Elder daughter and I were spending a few days' quality time together.  We went for a walk.  Normally, we have her Dad with us, and we just follow him blindly, chatting away effortlessly while he holds the map and navigates.

This time we had to work it out for ourselves.  We got lost.  We passed the most beautiful house, set in the middle of nowhere.  High up overlooking a beautiful view, lovely 17th century proportions.  Golden Cotswold stone.

I wondered what the name of the house could be, thinking that perhaps we could then identify it on our map.  Gazing about, I noticed a figure emerging from behind a hedgerow.

This was the helpful head groundsman, who told us we were trespassing.  He also told us the name of the house - "Burnt Norton".  Of course I asked if it was connected to the poem by TS Eliot, and he confirmed that it was, and that Eliot had also been trespassing when he roamed around the garden and found some dry ponds which appear in the first section of the poem.

It was rather exciting to feel that we were following in the footsteps, quite literally, of one of the most famous writers of the 20th century.

Now my experience of TS Eliot whilst a student was mixed.  I found some of it amusing and easy to remember .

"The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock", for example, still springs to mind from time to time when one is eating a peach, or feeling one's age ("I grow old,  I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled...").

"The Waste Land" is harder, but stuffed like a plum pudding full of quotations which other authors have purloined for their later work.  ("The Grass is Singing" to name but one).

I remember thinking how difficult the Four Quartets were, and I feel no different now.  Inaccessible, repetitive in beat, emotion and thought process, and depressing.

But I am glad I have the book, and could look up the reference to the dry pools the gardener told us about.  Here it is:

"So we moved ....
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool".

The gardener gave us permission to go and look into the drained pools likewise, but we felt that we had pushed our luck in trespassing quite enough already, and progressed on our way instead.

Postscript

I have since had much the same experience with another of the Four Quartets, Little Gidding. Happened upon the location, and to my immense surprise, found that the poem was written about an actual place, just as the above poem, Burnt Norton, describes an actual place.  

It does make the poems, previously almost as impenetrable as the Rosetta Stone, more real. Eery and haunting to tread in the actual footsteps of the poet, to see features of the landscape that inspired his deep thought.