Welcome to justthoughtsnstuff

I started posting to jtns on 20 February 2010 with just one word, 'Mosaic'. This seemed an appropriate introduction to a blog that would juxtapose fragments of memoir and life-writing. Since 1996, I'd been coming to terms with the consequences of emotional and economic abuse that had begun in childhood, and which, amongst other things, had sought to stifle self-expression. While I'd explored some aspects of my life through fiction and, to a lesser extent, journalism, it was only in 2010 that I felt confident enough to write openly about myself. I believed this was an important part of the healing process. Yet within weeks, the final scenes of my family's fifty-year nightmare started to play themselves out and the purpose of the blog became one of survival through writing. Although some posts are about my family's suffering - most explicitly, Life-Writing Talk, with Reference to Trust: A family story - the majority are about happier subjects (including, Bampton in rural west Oxfordshire, where I live, Oxford, where I work, the seasons and the countryside, walking and cycling) and I hope that these, together with their accompanying photos, are enjoyable and positive. Note: In February 2020, on jtns' tenth birthday, I stopped posting to this blog. It is now a contained work of life-writing about ten years of my life. Frank, 21 February 2020.

New blog: morethoughtsnstuff.com.

Saturday 13 January 2018

refreshing and energising holiday, bampton history, bampton poet, john philips 1676-1709

Went back to work this week, after a wonderfully refreshing and energising holiday.

Enjoyed lots of walks, even though the winds were strong and sharp at times. On Buckland Marsh, the Thames flooded the water meadows. But those at Burroway, where the curlew nest in spring, were mostly dry and when we walked them looked almost spring-like.

On Marsh Lane, some of the trees were both blue-green with lichen and swathed in claret-coloured ivy leaves.

This Christmas, I returned to the Victoria County History entries for Bampton and its neighbouring villages, which I first read in 2001. In those days, I read from a massive volume borrowed from an Oxford library. This time, I read on my phone - times have changed! - thanks to the estimable British History Online project.

Something I'd missed early in the new century was the mention of a poet, John Philips, who was born in Bampton in 1676. I was intrigued and read round him, discovering that he wrote in the Miltonic style and was praised by James Thomson (author of The Seasons - 1730) for his 'rhyme-unfetter'd' - or blank - verse. Philips' most respected poem is Cyder, which celebrates the growing of orchards, the making of cider and the rural way of life, amongst other things, and which is modelled on Virgil's Georgics. In its turn it was the model for later georgics, including Thomson's.

Philips was educated at Christ Church, Oxford, and died in Hereford, where his mother's family came from, of tuberculosis in 1709, aged just thirty-three.

The New York Public Library copy of the 1708 Jacob Tonson edition of Cyder has been digitised and is available on Internet Archive.

The poem is a delight to read. It's actually much more wide-ranging than its title suggests, combining passages about orchard growing and cider making with moral philosophy, sweeping summaries of British history, politics, paeans to various aristocrats - 'Thee al∫o, Glorious Branch of Cecil's Line,/This County claims...' - (presumably existing or hoped-for patrons), and rural lore. While there are Miltonic and neo-Classical flourishes - 'Hyperborean Bla∫ts', 'Tartarean Dregs', 'Th' Olympian Hill' - the writing is generally accessible and has considerable charm and humanity.

The best bits are the passages relating to Cider and the countryside. I loved the names of the cider apples: 'Woodcock...Pippin...Moyle...Rough Eliot...∫weet Permain'.

There is plenty of advice - about, for example, grafting apple trees and, here, knowing the signs that tell of the weather to come:

The Woodcocks early Vi∫it, and Abode
Of long Continuance in our tempertate Clime,
Foretell a liberal Harve∫t: He of Times
Intelligent, th'har∫h Hyperborean Ice
Shuns for our equal Winters; when our Suns
Cleave the chill'd Soil, he backward wings his Way
To Scandinavian frozen Summers, meet
For his num'd Blood. But nothing profits more
Than frequent Snows: O, may'∫t Thou often ∫ee
Thy Furrows whiten'd by the woolly Rain,
Nutricious! Secret Nitre lurks within
The porous Wet, quick'ning the languid Glebe. (p. 60)

'Woolly Rain' is wonderful!

Finally, in these two extracts, Philips first extols the virtues of moderate drinking - keeping things 'within The Golden Mean' - then warns of the dangers of over-indulgence:

...the well fraught Bowl
Circles ince∫∫ant, whil∫t the humble Cell
With quavering Laugh, and rural Je∫ts re∫ounds.
Ea∫e, and Content, and undi∫∫embled Love
Shine in each Face; the Thoughts of Labour pa∫t
Encrea∫e their Joy. (p. 72)


...if thou wilt prolong
Dire Compotation, forthwith Rea∫on quits
Her Empire to Confu∫ion, and Mi∫rule,
And vain Debates; then twenty Tongues at once
Con∫pire in ∫en∫ele∫s Jargon, naught is heard
But Din, and various Clamour, and mad Rant... (p. 76)

It's lovely to know that there was a seventeenth century Bampton poet. Meanwhile, I haven't finished reading the County History - the rest is a treat for the coming weeks!

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