The school with no abbey
Sep. 3rd, 2012 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustAs I discovered when I plunged back into the world of the Abbey School, there was (barring a temporary aberration) no school at the abbey. And in the very first book in the series, there was no abbey, either. Elsie J. Oxenham's Girls of the Hamlet Club describes the founding of the eponymous club, which plays a large part throughout the series, with its folk dancing and its May Queens. The membership is drawn from the pupils of Miss Macy's school, the club is a response to the situation at the school, and and it is to Miss Macy's school that the "Abbey Girls" will come, but not until the next book, the sequel to Girls of the Hamlet Club.
I wonder whether Elsie J. Oxenham planned this from the start, that she knew the focus of the narrative would be shifting to the abbey? At first I assumed it was a change of direction, that she had visited Cleeve Abbey and been ambushed by enthusiasm, unable to resist writing this new discovery into her story*. But, as I said last time, I was mistaken in recollecting the Abbey as not a but the central motif of the series, eclipsing the rôle of the dancing; am I still doing the same thing? Is it thanks to the convenience of the Abbey as a marketing label that the books are the Abbey School series rather than the Hamlet Club books**?
As a school story, Girls of the Hamlet Club is a curious mixture, partly following a recognisable pattern, partly not. It traces the path of Cicely during her first year at a new school: her 'public' activities among her schoolmates and her 'private', family life providing two narrative strands each of which is stronger for being woven into the other. Cicely is a sort of 'lost heir' in reverse: rejected by her grandparents as a reminder of her mother's marriage, which they opposed and believe caused her death***. It is this situation which brings Cicely to live in the hamlet of Whiteleaf, and to attend Miss Macy's school. Her father regards the school as entirely satisfactory: it "has a good name". But it is socially divided: until recently attended only by the well-off, it has recently started offering scholarships and reduced its fees, drawing in a number of girls from the surrounding hamlets, some of whom are quite poor. The longer established pupils have reacted by setting up clubs, into which a a number of the schools activities (hockey, the play) are channelled and for which there is a membership of half a crown, set purely to keep out the 'Hamlets'. Cicely 'ought' not be a 'Hamlet', as her classmates are quick to determine from her Liberty hat and her "jolly bike". But having found herself among them by chance, Cicely throws in her lot with them out of a mixture of moral principle and hot temper.
The division within the school is a central concern of the narrative, yet much of the book feels oddly detatched from the school. Detatched in two senses: unlike most school stories, EJO sets hers at set at a day school, and is as interested in the life that goes on outside school as in what happens during school hours: the entertainments and encounters of the weekends, the surprisingly long evenings, the journey to and from school. But there is also a sense of detatchment in the objectivity with which the school is judged and found wanting. It is quite clear that Miss Macy has permitted a schism to develope which she could have intervened to prevent. Chalet School books, for example, show a sequence of new girls learning to love the school and become Chaletians: in Girls of the Hamlet Club Cicely changes the school to meet her standards.
If the story had been set entirely within the school, I would probably not have been conscious of the extent to which female characters predominate. The girls themselves and their teachers go some way to explain this, and their parents fade into the background. Perhaps, consciously or unconsciously, the narrative is avoiding awkward issues of propriety by ensuring that girls have dealings primarily with women: for example, Cicely's guardians (while her father's business keeps him in Ceylon) are 'the Gaynors', unseen and unexplained: but it is Mrs Gaynor of whom she thinks and to whom she writes; the inn at which the book opens is presided over by a "motherly landlady"; Cicely's lodgings are with the widowed Mrs Ramage; looking for Miriams house, she asks directions of an old woman, and so on. When men appear, they are often accorded particular importance: Cicely's relationship with her grandfather in the latter part of the book echoes that with her father at its opening (while her invalid grandmother is absolutely indulged, but almost equally absolutely offstage). Great importance is also attached to the arrival of Miriam's brother Dick for the performance which is the climax of the book. The men, in fact, are such rare and special creatures that I kept checking and re-checking the publication date, to be sure it was 1914, and not a few years later.
Even in 1914, folk dancing is not depicted as a living tradition in the villages, but something to be learned: "I've heard of morris dancing, but I've never seen any," says Miriam. It is Cicely who has learned both morris and country dancing in London, and it is from London that she orders the sticks and bells and handkerchiefs her new morris sides will need****. Cicely has an impressive memory for the many dances, their names and figures, and the different styles and precise steps that she passes on to her pupils, and they in turn remember them and pass them on to others.***** They are equally lucky in finding a fiddler who can play these forgotten tunes. Is it hopeless romanticism to have been hoping for a story in whch some, at least, of the music and dance was remembered in the villages? The EFDSS website gives some history, and places the great age of collecting before the First World War, so it doesn't seem unreasonable to hope for some survival. I probably ought to know more about this. And it would be interesting to track down the specific dances mentioned (a random sample of three distinctive and therefore searchable names gave me three morris tunes, but that's not conclusive).
But this post has been cooking quite long enough already. Girls of the Hamlet Club is reissued by the Else J. Oxenham Society, and if I haven't already made it clear, it's not only a fascinating document, it's also a very enjoyable read. My affection for the later books is mixed with admiration of their sheer strangeness, but this early installment lacks the exaggerated mannerisms of the later volumes.
* I love the transparency of her enthusiasms, the unselfconscious way she peppers the narrative with things, people, places she has discovered and loved: the dancing itself and the people she met through it (not all of whom were necessarily pleased to be fictionalised in this way), the Farnham pottery which transforms May and Biddy's home in The Abbey Girls in Town, the hamlets of the Chilterns (real places transposed bodily into the fiction).
**I can't imagine a modern marketing department taking kindly to the clever ambiguity of the 'Hamlet Club' title; but does the same apply to a publisher of almost a century ago?
*** When eventually they relent, and claim her, she becomes - following a pattern I remarked on in my previous post - not merely affluent but impressively wealthy, moving to the great house (according to the intrepid scouts of the EJO Society, "Broadway End was almost certainly situated on the site of Chequers."). But on this occasion Cicely's windfall is not entirely gratuitous, but serves to demonstrate to the Townies the mistake they make, even by their own standards, in despising the Hamlets.
****The Townies' clubs, with their half crown subscription, are in the wrong because the money is not reuired for the activities of the club. An early episode suggests a sensitivity to financial inequality that goes beyond this: Cicely initially accepts the proposal that the schoolgirls should all wear blue coats, but rejects it when she realises that not all her friends can afford new coats. But matching costumes for the morris sides are justified because 'they will only cost pennies', and the description of how effective the costumes look suggests that her author agrees with her. Cicely is generous in funding what she can get away with, and no-one is excluded because they can't afford the costume - but there's an impressive amount of kit to be bought, and expenditures as dismissed as insignificant with no sense that they might be less insignificant to some than to others. They even manage to get hold of a maypole.
*****All girls, except for one side of small children. There's a passing comment that morris is traditionally a men's dance, but there don't seem to have been any qualms about women dancing it.
I wonder whether Elsie J. Oxenham planned this from the start, that she knew the focus of the narrative would be shifting to the abbey? At first I assumed it was a change of direction, that she had visited Cleeve Abbey and been ambushed by enthusiasm, unable to resist writing this new discovery into her story*. But, as I said last time, I was mistaken in recollecting the Abbey as not a but the central motif of the series, eclipsing the rôle of the dancing; am I still doing the same thing? Is it thanks to the convenience of the Abbey as a marketing label that the books are the Abbey School series rather than the Hamlet Club books**?
As a school story, Girls of the Hamlet Club is a curious mixture, partly following a recognisable pattern, partly not. It traces the path of Cicely during her first year at a new school: her 'public' activities among her schoolmates and her 'private', family life providing two narrative strands each of which is stronger for being woven into the other. Cicely is a sort of 'lost heir' in reverse: rejected by her grandparents as a reminder of her mother's marriage, which they opposed and believe caused her death***. It is this situation which brings Cicely to live in the hamlet of Whiteleaf, and to attend Miss Macy's school. Her father regards the school as entirely satisfactory: it "has a good name". But it is socially divided: until recently attended only by the well-off, it has recently started offering scholarships and reduced its fees, drawing in a number of girls from the surrounding hamlets, some of whom are quite poor. The longer established pupils have reacted by setting up clubs, into which a a number of the schools activities (hockey, the play) are channelled and for which there is a membership of half a crown, set purely to keep out the 'Hamlets'. Cicely 'ought' not be a 'Hamlet', as her classmates are quick to determine from her Liberty hat and her "jolly bike". But having found herself among them by chance, Cicely throws in her lot with them out of a mixture of moral principle and hot temper.
The division within the school is a central concern of the narrative, yet much of the book feels oddly detatched from the school. Detatched in two senses: unlike most school stories, EJO sets hers at set at a day school, and is as interested in the life that goes on outside school as in what happens during school hours: the entertainments and encounters of the weekends, the surprisingly long evenings, the journey to and from school. But there is also a sense of detatchment in the objectivity with which the school is judged and found wanting. It is quite clear that Miss Macy has permitted a schism to develope which she could have intervened to prevent. Chalet School books, for example, show a sequence of new girls learning to love the school and become Chaletians: in Girls of the Hamlet Club Cicely changes the school to meet her standards.
If the story had been set entirely within the school, I would probably not have been conscious of the extent to which female characters predominate. The girls themselves and their teachers go some way to explain this, and their parents fade into the background. Perhaps, consciously or unconsciously, the narrative is avoiding awkward issues of propriety by ensuring that girls have dealings primarily with women: for example, Cicely's guardians (while her father's business keeps him in Ceylon) are 'the Gaynors', unseen and unexplained: but it is Mrs Gaynor of whom she thinks and to whom she writes; the inn at which the book opens is presided over by a "motherly landlady"; Cicely's lodgings are with the widowed Mrs Ramage; looking for Miriams house, she asks directions of an old woman, and so on. When men appear, they are often accorded particular importance: Cicely's relationship with her grandfather in the latter part of the book echoes that with her father at its opening (while her invalid grandmother is absolutely indulged, but almost equally absolutely offstage). Great importance is also attached to the arrival of Miriam's brother Dick for the performance which is the climax of the book. The men, in fact, are such rare and special creatures that I kept checking and re-checking the publication date, to be sure it was 1914, and not a few years later.
Even in 1914, folk dancing is not depicted as a living tradition in the villages, but something to be learned: "I've heard of morris dancing, but I've never seen any," says Miriam. It is Cicely who has learned both morris and country dancing in London, and it is from London that she orders the sticks and bells and handkerchiefs her new morris sides will need****. Cicely has an impressive memory for the many dances, their names and figures, and the different styles and precise steps that she passes on to her pupils, and they in turn remember them and pass them on to others.***** They are equally lucky in finding a fiddler who can play these forgotten tunes. Is it hopeless romanticism to have been hoping for a story in whch some, at least, of the music and dance was remembered in the villages? The EFDSS website gives some history, and places the great age of collecting before the First World War, so it doesn't seem unreasonable to hope for some survival. I probably ought to know more about this. And it would be interesting to track down the specific dances mentioned (a random sample of three distinctive and therefore searchable names gave me three morris tunes, but that's not conclusive).
But this post has been cooking quite long enough already. Girls of the Hamlet Club is reissued by the Else J. Oxenham Society, and if I haven't already made it clear, it's not only a fascinating document, it's also a very enjoyable read. My affection for the later books is mixed with admiration of their sheer strangeness, but this early installment lacks the exaggerated mannerisms of the later volumes.
* I love the transparency of her enthusiasms, the unselfconscious way she peppers the narrative with things, people, places she has discovered and loved: the dancing itself and the people she met through it (not all of whom were necessarily pleased to be fictionalised in this way), the Farnham pottery which transforms May and Biddy's home in The Abbey Girls in Town, the hamlets of the Chilterns (real places transposed bodily into the fiction).
**I can't imagine a modern marketing department taking kindly to the clever ambiguity of the 'Hamlet Club' title; but does the same apply to a publisher of almost a century ago?
*** When eventually they relent, and claim her, she becomes - following a pattern I remarked on in my previous post - not merely affluent but impressively wealthy, moving to the great house (according to the intrepid scouts of the EJO Society, "Broadway End was almost certainly situated on the site of Chequers."). But on this occasion Cicely's windfall is not entirely gratuitous, but serves to demonstrate to the Townies the mistake they make, even by their own standards, in despising the Hamlets.
****The Townies' clubs, with their half crown subscription, are in the wrong because the money is not reuired for the activities of the club. An early episode suggests a sensitivity to financial inequality that goes beyond this: Cicely initially accepts the proposal that the schoolgirls should all wear blue coats, but rejects it when she realises that not all her friends can afford new coats. But matching costumes for the morris sides are justified because 'they will only cost pennies', and the description of how effective the costumes look suggests that her author agrees with her. Cicely is generous in funding what she can get away with, and no-one is excluded because they can't afford the costume - but there's an impressive amount of kit to be bought, and expenditures as dismissed as insignificant with no sense that they might be less insignificant to some than to others. They even manage to get hold of a maypole.
*****All girls, except for one side of small children. There's a passing comment that morris is traditionally a men's dance, but there don't seem to have been any qualms about women dancing it.
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no subject
Date: 2012-09-03 10:54 pm (UTC)And now I'm tangling three ideas in one and need to stop - there is the class structure and the roles implied and there are Oxenham's assumptions about what dance is and where it comes from. These two overlap, but are not the same thing at all.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-04 10:05 am (UTC)As for the 'top down' element, the EFDSS page I linked to says "Sharp's folksong collecting, which started in 1903, was preceded by his meeting with the Headington Quarry Morris Dancers and their musician, William Kimber, on Boxing Day 1899. Apart from noting the tunes, he did no more until 1905 when Mary Neal, who organised the Esperance Girls' Club in London, asked Sharp if there were any folk dances which she could teach the girls. Sharp remembered the Morris dancers, and William Kimber was invited to London to teach. This proved to be the start of the Morris dance revival." So EJO is giving the official story. (And I love that the morris revival starts with it being taught to girls).
no subject
Date: 2012-09-04 11:56 am (UTC)It was tagged as 'a men's dance' by the EFDSS, though there is apparently evidence that women's and mixed morris sides had existed in the nineteenth century, and that Sharp knew this, and chose to keep it dark. My source for this is Ronald Hutton's The Stations of the Sun. Hutton is citing sources to which I don't, right now, have access.
There is an excellent book on the early history of the morris by John Forrest. He cites early seventeenth-century law suits for sabbath-breaking in which both men and women were accused of dancing the morris on a Sunday.
There is also Will Kemp's smashing little book Kemp's Nine Days' Wonder (1600). The actor Will Kemp (the original Dogberry) danced the morris from London to Norwich and afterwards wrote an account of his adventures. Mostly he danced solo (which is interesting in itself) but he also danced with partners who presented themselves along the way. On two occasions those partners were women: one a servant girl, 'a Mayde not passing foureteene yeares of age', the other 'a lusty Country lasse', who partnered him for 'a long myle'.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-04 01:27 pm (UTC)I hadn't come across the line that Sharp found mixed morris and passed it on unisex - that's interesting. And closer to the question which intrigued me, which was not the origins of the dance, but its survival in the wild.
no subject
Date: 2012-09-04 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-05 09:14 am (UTC)