{"id":34,"date":"2012-12-21T21:42:00","date_gmt":"2012-12-21T21:42:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/2012\/12\/21\/modern-yorkshire-tractates-editor-paul-tweddell\/"},"modified":"2012-12-21T21:42:00","modified_gmt":"2012-12-21T21:42:00","slug":"modern-yorkshire-tractates-editor-paul-tweddell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/2012\/12\/21\/modern-yorkshire-tractates-editor-paul-tweddell\/","title":{"rendered":"Modern Yorkshire Tractates – Editor Paul Tweddell"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n<\/div>\n

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<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Paul Tweddell in Rose Cottage, Stokesley as it is today.<\/span><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Before his demise, George Markham Tweddell’s<\/b> descendant, during the work pulling together Tweddell’s collected poems from many books, journals and newspapers, proposed a series of three small poetry chapbooks consisting of  some the favourite poems by Tweddell.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vol 1 Trev Teasdel’s<\/b> choice (Consultant)<\/span>
\nVol 2 Kathleen Fry’s<\/b> choice (Proof-reader and great, great, great granddaughter of GM Tweddell.<\/span>
\nVol 3 Paul Markham Tweddell’s<\/b> Choice (Editor and great, great grandson of GM Tweddell.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nThe booklets never emerged but Paul did supply me with a sample copy of  his booklet, which, because these poems meant a lot to him and were ones he considered important, I reproduce here. Although all the poems are in the Collected poems of Tweddell, this collection is important also because Paul has given us his thoughts and additional information about the poems. Perhaps we can add Kathleen’s and my choice at a later date, although I would draw attention to the Tweddell collection called Sonnets of Flowers and Trees<\/b><\/a> which I added as separate blog here (they are also in the full poetry collections here http:\/\/georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk\/2012\/05\/collected-poems-of-george-markham.html<\/a><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

\nMODERN YORKSHIRE TRACTATES No3<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n
\n
<\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/a><\/div>\n
\nPoems of the 19thC Cleveland poet George Markham Tweddell<\/b> 1823 – 1903<\/span><\/div>\n
\nThe Editor’s Choice – Paul Tweddell<\/b> 2008<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
<\/span><\/div>\n
\nAbove photo was taken c 1888 when Tweddell was 65 and taken at  the studio of  John Waller<\/a><\/b> of Whitby where Tweddell’s fourth son, Oliver Louis Tweddell<\/b> was apprenticed as a colourer at this time.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
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\n<\/div>\n

The Yarrow Grows upon the Grave<\/span><\/b>
\n
<\/b>
\nThe yarrow grows upon the grave<\/span>
\nOf her who\u2019s dear to me;<\/span>
\nThe lustre of whose beaming eyes,<\/span>
\nAlas! No more to see.<\/span>
\nFor she is cold within the grave, 5<\/span>
\nWhose breast was once so warm;<\/span>
\nAnd there is no one in this world<\/span>
\nThe orphan\u2019s heart to charm.<\/span>
\nOh mother! Why was I thus left,<\/span>
\nA thousand pangs to feel? 10<\/span>
\nI\u2019d rather in my youthful breast<\/span>
\nThey\u2019d plunged the murd\u2019rous steel.<\/span>
\nWhy do they now with fiendish hate<\/span>
\nMy heart thus rend in train;<\/span>
\nBecause before a cruel world 15<\/span>
\nFrom weeping I refrain?<\/span>
\nI offtimes, at the dead of night,<\/span>
\nHave knelt me o\u2019er the sod,<\/span>
\nBeneath which lay the clay-cold corse,<\/span>
\nUnseen by all but God. 20<\/span>
\nAnd there I\u2019ve dropt the pearly tear<\/span>
\nFor her who lay below:<\/span>
\nFor none but those who\u2019ve felt the loss<\/span>
\nAn orphan\u2019s pangs can know.<\/span>
\nStokesley G. T.<\/span>
\n[First Published in Tweddell\u2019s Yorkshire Miscellany<\/i>, p. 94 January 1845]<\/span>
\nPaul Tweddell<\/b> writes –<\/span>
\n“An oft-published poem published under the name – George Tweddell with references to his mother’s premature death.”<\/span>
\n…………………………….<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
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\nPhoto from Tweddell’s Bards and Authors of Cleveland and South Durham 1872<\/span><\/div>\n<\/td>\n

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John Reed Appleton, F.R.A.<\/span><\/b>
\n
<\/b>
\nPoet and antiquary, both combined!<\/span>
\nWhy not? All truth is beautiful; and truth<\/span>
\nMust circulate through all the poet\u2019s soul,<\/span>
\nE\u2019en as the blood through arteries and veins,<\/span>
\nPast, present, future, to the bard are one 5<\/span>
\nUnending circle of humanity:<\/span>
\nAnd the true antiquary loves the past<\/span>
\nFor all its teachings in the search for truth.<\/span>
\nPeter Proletarius<\/span><\/i>
\n[Tweddell\u2019s North of England Illustrated Annual for 1879-1880, p. 5]<\/span><\/i>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nSonnet to John Appleton of Durham, F.S.A.<\/span><\/b>
\n
<\/b>
\nOft, as I muse beside my winter\u2019s fire,<\/span>
\nThe scene where we have rambled rise to view<\/span>
\nIn all their beauty: in fancy I review<\/span>
\nOur sea-side visits; nor do I desire<\/span>
\nA purer pleasure than we two enjoy\u2019d 5<\/span>
\nBy bosky streams\u2014on mountains\u2014or beside<\/span>
\nRuins of fabrics once our country\u2019s pride,\u2014<\/span>
\nCastles and monasteries: never cloy\u2019d<\/span>
\nTheir histories and legends to our taste;<\/span>
\nAnd now I half rehear the genial talk 10<\/span>
\nWhich we enjoy\u2019d in many a rustic walk,<\/span>
\nTo shorten which we never felt in haste.<\/span>
\nThese rambles serve me for a glorious theme,<\/span>
\nAnd linger in my brain as if a pleasant dream.<\/span>
\nRose Cottage, Stokesley George Markham Tweddell<\/span><\/i>
\n[Tweddell\u2019s Illustrated Annual 1881-1882, p. 8]<\/span><\/i>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nJohn Reed Appleton.<\/span><\/b>
\n\u201cScoff not at antiquarian research,<\/span>
\nAs useless in results; for it throws light<\/span>
\nUpon the darkness of the past to aid<\/span>
\nHumanity along its devious way\u201d.<\/span>
\n\u2018Peter Proletarius\u2019<\/span><\/i>
\n[Bards and Authors, p.201]<\/span><\/i>
\n
<\/i>
\nAnd one by John Reed Appleton<\/b> about Tweddell<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n[In Praise of George Markham Tweddell<\/b>]<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nDear Tweddell! Still write on: I love to hear<\/span>
\nYour praise of CLEVELAND, to us both so dear!<\/span>
\nThe honest, manly pride, with which you sing<\/span>
\n(Inspired by its wild mountains and sweet streams)<\/span>
\nOf its rich beauties, ever varying,<\/span>
\nIs welcome; for the love of nature gleams<\/span>
\nThroughout. – It is indeed a pleasant land;<\/span>
\nFair ‘midst the fairest – beautifully grand!<\/span>
\nGem of the north! All praise, all homage be<\/span>
\nTo her, whose native charms have ever won<\/span>
\nA palm ‘midst England’s loveliest scenery!<\/span>
\nOn then, dear friend, those charms keep blazoning on;<\/span>
\nTo the world’s pleasures adding all you can-<\/span>
\nGiving your golden thinkings unto man!<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nby John Reed Appleton<\/b><\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/span><\/div>\n
\nPaul Tweddell<\/b> says ” These poems celebrate the long friendship between Tweddell and John Reed Appleton<\/b> which began when they first met whilst rambling on a Cleveland hilltop. Appleton, who was the Durham agent for a Worcester wine and vinegar distributor, brought encouragement and financial support to the family, and the two men took frequent, lengthy sorties among the Cleveland Hills and dales. In Tractates No 34 (1881) <\/i>Tweddell said Appleton was a ‘most genial companion, but very firm on one point; he insisted upon being allowed to bear all the expenses of our three days ramble, as he had done on other occasions. These are the only points on which I refuse to argue with my friends because they happen to be richer than I am. I find it better to humour them’<\/i> Appleton’s poem above was used to open the first North of England Tractates<\/i> on October 29th 1867, the series lasting until 1890. The three Tweddell poems on page 2 span the period; the first published under the name of Peter Proletarius<\/b> in Tweddell’s North of England Illustrated Annual for 1879-80<\/i>,p 5; the second in the next annual for 1881-82 p. 8; the third poem returns to Peter Proletarius<\/b> and introduces an article in Bards and Authors 1872<\/i>.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
<\/span><\/div>\n
\n………………………………….<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n
\n
<\/span><\/p>\n
\nNorth of England Tractates, No. 32<\/span><\/div>\n
\n(1887)<\/span><\/div>\n
\nThe Poetry of an old Besom<\/span><\/div>\n
\nA Blank Verse Poem<\/span><\/div>\n
\nBy GEORGE MARKHAM TWEDDELL<\/span><\/div>\n

To my esteemed Friend of some Forty Years Joseph Cowan<\/b> Esq.,<\/span>
\n[The mill-stone around Gladstones neck]<\/i> Of Stella Hall, Blaydonburn<\/span>
\n(Late Member of Parliament for Newcastle-on-Tyne,)<\/span>
\nThis poem is most affectionately Dedicated (until I have something better to offer for his acceptance).<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGeorge Markham Tweddell    Rose Cottage, Stokesley<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
<\/span><\/div>\n

There is much poetry in common things,<\/span>
\nWhich few of us are wise enough to feel,<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
<\/span><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
A Besom<\/span><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Till Bards and Artists first make them their own,<\/span>
\nAnd waken other souls to feel this truth.<\/span>
\nA well-worn Besom laying near a pump 5<\/span>
\nWas pointed out to me, and I was told<\/span>
\nIt was a subject which would quite defy<\/span>
\nMy greatest skill whereon to write a Poem;<\/span>
\nThe object was too unpoetical<\/span>
\nE\u2019en for a decent Essay writ in prose. 10<\/span>
\nAnd my Companion for the nonce did kick<\/span>
\nAway the Besom, as a loathsome thing,<\/span>
\nUnworthy of his eyes to rest upon,\u2014<\/span>
\nOne only conjuring up unworthy thoughts.<\/span>
\nOpinions differ much in different minds, 20<\/span>
\nAnd all our sympathies are not the same.<\/span>
\nI mentioned the Prose-paper writ by SWIFT,<\/span>
\nThe witty sarcastic Dublin Dean,<\/span>
\nIn a most humorous parody of BOYLE,<\/span>
\nFully a century and a half ago; 25<\/span>
\nBut it was treated in too brief a style.<\/span>
\nAnd only raised the laugh the Dean design\u2019d.1<\/span>
\nMy \u201cMeditations\u201d differ\u2019d from the Dean\u2019s;<\/span>
\nFor straight before \u201cmy mind\u2019s eye\u201d there arose<\/span>
\nA Vision of those Moors I dearly love, 30<\/span>
\nWith miles of Heather in full purple flower,<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nWhich clothes with royal robe our Yorkshire Hills,<\/span>
\nAnd shelters those poor Grouse which Sportmen seek<\/span>
\nTo slaughter for amusement. Ling in flower!<\/span>
\nA sight to gladden every worthy soul 35<\/span>
\nWhich still retains some little of that love<\/span>
\nOf natural beauty which so charms a Child.<\/span>
\nA Youth and Maiden, in the spring of life,<\/span>
\nAre seated on the Ling. Their eyes survey<\/span>
\nThe Landscape round with rapture; the blue Sea, 40<\/span>
\nStudded with Ships and Steamers, unto them<\/span>
\nGiving additional interest to the View:<\/span>
\nOh, may the Love which in her ears he pours<\/span>
\nProve all life long as earnest as \u2019t is now!<\/span>
\nAnd may the Purity which blesses her 45<\/span>
\nAnd all who come within her influence,<\/span>
\nNever be sullied in her walk through life!<\/span>
\nMethought the Bees were humming in mine ears<\/span>
\nAs they were gathering Honey from the Ling<\/span>
\nAnd the Wild Clover.<\/span>
\nThen the Vision changed. 50<\/span>
\nMethought it was in Spring; and I beheld<\/span>
\nA stalwart Man, whose face and arms were tann\u2019d<\/span>
\nBy years of exposure to the Summer Sun,<\/span>
\nWho, with his shining Sickle cut the Ling,<\/span>
\nAs Reapers did the Corn; and in his Carts, 55<\/span>
\nDrawn by two Donkeys (which just then did graze<\/span>
\nAt leisure on the Sward, o\u2019er which the Larks<\/span>
\nWere carolling most joyously,) he placed<\/span>
\nThe moorland treasure, and conveyed it home:<\/span>
\nHome\u2014not to a close Cabin, in some Town 60<\/span>
\nWhere neither rural sight nor sound there be\u2014<\/span>
\nBut to his Camp in a wide Yorkshire Lane,<\/span>
\nWhere there are pleasant places un-enclosed<\/span>
\nYet by our greedy Landgrabbers,\u2014for whom<\/span>
\nSix feet of earth will be full ground enough,2<\/span>
\nAnd more than they deserve, when their poor souls 65<\/span>
\nHave gone to their account: one of those spots<\/span>
\nWhere few folks pass, e\u2019en on the longest day,<\/span>
\nBut where fine Wildflowers in profusion grow,<\/span>
\nWhere Whins gild all the \u201cWaste\u201d with gleams of gold,<\/span>
\nAnd birds delight to build as well as sing,\u2014 70<\/span>
\nWhich Pan might deem a perfect Paradise.<\/span>
\nAnon, my Vision changed, and I beheld<\/span>
\nThe besom-maker\u2019s Camp, in that lone Lane,<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nHis Wife and Children, risen from sound sleep,<\/span>
\nSuch as the pamper\u2019d very rarely know; 75<\/span>
\nOn straw spread \u2018neath the Covers of the Carts,<\/span>
\nWere looking quite as healthy as the Man.<\/span>
\nA bare-foot Boy was handing him the Ling<\/span>
\nTo make his Besoms; the young Children ran<\/span>
\nChasing a Butterfly. O\u2019er Fire of Sticks, 80<\/span>
\nFuel soon gather\u2019d near, in Pan which hung<\/span>
\nSuspended from a Tripod of three Poles,<\/span>
\nFasten\u2019d together at their tops, their feet<\/span>
\nStretch\u2019d as such distance o\u2019er the cheerful blaze<\/span>
\nThat they were not consumed, his Wife was then 85<\/span>
\nCooking coarse Food, which the pure Air they breathed<\/span>
\nAnd daily Exercise enabled them<\/span>
\nTo enjoy and thrive upon. And the Man<\/span>
\nTook Shafts of Ash or Alder4, round which he<\/span>
\nDeftly arranged the Heather at one end, 90<\/span>
\nBinding him it firmly with his Briar-bands,<\/span>
\nOr with split Hazel, and securing all<\/span>
\nWith Pegs of whate\u2019er Wood came first to hand,<\/span>
\nAnd, as he toil\u2019d, most merrily he sang<\/span>
\nOld Songs which cheer\u2019d our Fathers long ago. 95<\/span>
\nA powerful Mastiff, of pure English Breed,<\/span>
\nKept faithful watch all Night to guard the Camp<\/span>
\nFrom all Intruders: peaceful he by Day,<\/span>
\nBut knowing well the Duty he should do,<\/span>
\nAnd to be trusted as a Sentinel. 100<\/span>
\nAnd that rough Man had Taste enough to love<\/span>
\nThe Beauty all around him; greater he,<\/span>
\nIn all true Manhood, than you simpering Fop,<\/span>
\nTo whom Life is a burden, \u201ckilling Time\u201d 105<\/span>
\nAs well he can by Vice and Idleness,<\/span>
\nAnd by his Follies slaughtering himself,\u2014<\/span>
\nThe maddest of all Suicides I know.<\/span>
\nAnd all the Besom-maker\u2019s Family<\/span>
\nDelight to listen to the Throstle\u2019s Notes, 110<\/span>
\nAnd to the Songs of Linnets from those Whins<\/span>
\nWhich glow like Flames around them everywhere.<\/span>
\nFor them the Sloe in early Spring sends forth<\/span>
\nIts bonny Blossoms, and in May the Air 115<\/span>
\nAround them by the Hawthorn is perfumed<\/span>
\nAs though they were in Rimmel\u2019s Laboratory.<\/span>
\nFor them the Woodbine and the Wild Roses hang<\/span>
\nEach Bush with Beauty; and the Broom presents<\/span>
\nPlumes worthy of the helmets on the Brows 120<\/span>
\nE\u2019en of the best of my old Ancestors,<\/span>
\n
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\n
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\nThe fierce Plantagenets.3 Here Ferns abound<\/span>
\nWhose Fronds may well supply an Artist\u2019s Eye<\/span>
\nWith fine Designs our fabric to adorn,<\/span>
\nOr Foregrounds for his Pictures. And lo there! 125<\/span>
\nYon huge old Crab-tree, in full Blossom now,<\/span>
\nIs beauteous to behold. You could not have,<\/span>
\nWith EVELYN\u2019s skill the Landscape to adorn,<\/span>
\nA grander Park than this which Nature made,\u2014<\/span>
\nScene of the Besom-maker\u2019s Industry. 130<\/span>
\nA gentle Rivulet runs whimpling near,\u2014<\/span>
\nA bosky Brook, that keeps all Summer cool\u2014<\/span>
\nFresh from the Hills, with water all so cool\u2014<\/span>
\nIt serves them as a Bath and Mirror both;<\/span>
\nIts Banks all cover\u2019d o\u2019er with Primroses. 135<\/span>
\nWhilst, close at hand, the purest Spring supplies<\/span>
\nAbundance both for Drink and Cookery,\u2014<\/span>
\nA moss- and fern-clad Fountain, where, perchance,<\/span>
\nOberon, Titania, and their Elves,<\/span>
\nMay hold at times their Faery Revelry: 140<\/span>
\nFor there at Night the Glow-worms light their Lamps,<\/span>
\nAnd on the Wildtime Bank above, all Day,<\/span>
\nThe gold-and sable-belted Humble Bees<\/span>
\nStrike up their pleasant dreamy Minstrelsy.<\/span>
\nThere the Tormentil shows its little Star, 145<\/span>
\nAnd Foxgloves (Fairy Fav\u2019rites) proudly stand.4<\/span>
\nThere azure Harebells hang with greatest grace,<\/span>
\nAnd many a Gem of Nature loves to grow.<\/span>
\nDaybreak and Sunset and the Afterglow;<\/span>
\nThe Moon and Stars by Night; the Clouds by Day, 150<\/span>
\nMoving each moment their Kaleidoscope,<\/span>
\nIn the Colours the Venetian Painters ne\u2019er<\/span>
\nCould not equal on their Canvas, e\u2019en when their Art<\/span>
\nCould boast of TITIAN or of VERONESE;\u2014<\/span>
\nSuch are a portion of the Beauties spread 155<\/span>
\nDaily around them,\u2014and the whole are Free!<\/span>
\nAnd should Disease attack them, (rarely known<\/span>
\nTo them who live a Life so natural,)<\/span>
\nThere are no lack of Simples close at hand,<\/span>
\nA Friar Lawrence would delight to cull.5 160<\/span>
\nBut they who dwell with Nature like to them,<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nHave little need of Bookish Lore, nor lack<\/span>
\nThe painted Landscapes of e\u2019en CLAUD LORRAINE,<\/span>
\nWILSON, LINNELL, or TURNER, to give them<\/span>
\nA healthy taste of Rural Scenery. 165<\/span>
\nTo them the Book of Nature opens wide;<\/span>
\nAnd much they learn, though they could never pass<\/span>
\nExaminations in our Colleges.<\/span>
\nAgain my Vision changed. I then beheld<\/span>
\nThat Woman and the largest of her Lads 170<\/span>
\nVending their besoms in the neighb\u2019ring Town,<\/span>
\nTo honestly procure them Food and Clothes;<\/span>
\nAnd then I felt it was a cruel Wrong<\/span>
\nFor Liberal Legislators, much mis-named,6<\/span>
\nTo Tax those poor but useful Labourers, 175<\/span>
\nBecause they exercised their natural Right<\/span>
\nOf bartering Besoms made by the horn\u2019d hands<\/span>
\nOf Husband and of Father, in a Realm<\/span>
\nBoasting its Freedom; their own Native Land,<\/span>
\nAs dear to them as it can ever be 180<\/span>
\nTo those who roll in Riches never earn\u2019d<\/span>
\nBy their own Hands or Brains.<\/span>
\nMy Vision changed:<\/span>
\nAnd then methought I saw the self-same Broom,<\/span>
\nIn its best fashion, brushing up the Dirt<\/span>
\nFrom Stable and from Pavement, in the Hands 185<\/span>
\nOf one who well could wield it aiding then<\/span>
\nThe Sanitary Laws; the cheerful Man<\/span>
\nWhistling all the time he swept.<\/span>
\nWorn to the stump,<\/span>
\nAs it now lay before me in the Yard,<\/span>
\nIt was not altogether useless then. 190<\/span>
\nA buxom Maiden, with round rosy cheeks,<\/span>
\nWho soon will marry, and bring forth a Breed<\/span>
\nOf Boys and Girls as healthy as herself,<\/span>
\nI saw impress\u2019d its Services, when she<\/span>
\nWash\u2019d her Potatoes, and it help\u2019d her well 195<\/span>
\nTo cleanse the Tubors[1] from whatever Soil<\/span>
\nStill clung to them when they first reach\u2019d her Hands,<\/span>
\nAnd when the Bands which bind the Besom now<\/span>
\nFail through Old Age, as I am failing fast,<\/span>
\nThe whole will aid in kindling her a Fire. 200<\/span>
\nBut every Atom will endure for aye,<\/span>
\nIn other forms: that which from the Earth was drawn<\/span>
\nWill soon return in Ashes; but most part<\/span>
\nWill float in the Air as gas, till plants breathe in<\/span>
\nThe Carbon, and retain it, to build up<\/span>
\n
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\n
<\/span>
\nThe Grass, or Leaf, or Tree; and through all time<\/span>
\nIts Particles will last in various forms,<\/span>
\nAs we have done in the primeval World,<\/span>
\nLong ere those Saurians, at whose Fossils we<\/span>
\nNow gaze on with such wonder, lived, and died. 210<\/span>
\nSome Atoms of that well-worn Besom may<\/span>
\nHave help\u2019d to form the Body of a King,<\/span>
\nPhilosopher, or Poet, whose name on Earth<\/span>
\nMayhap has survived him Three Thousand Years;<\/span>
\nAnd, in the Future, they again may bloom 215<\/span>
\nAs Flowers to gladden frail Humanity,<\/span>
\nOr form Food for Mankind, when thou and I<\/span>
\nHave long been quite forgot; yea, they may pass,<\/span>
\nBy natural process through the Blood, till they<\/span>
\nMay live in Artist\u2019s or in Poet\u2019s Brain. 220<\/span>
\nFor Matter is eternal: PROTEUS it,\u2014<\/span>
\nEver assuming different Shapes, as taught<\/span>
\nBy HOMER, HESIOD, OVID, and the rest<\/span>
\nOf Greek and Roman Poets long ago:<\/span>
\nAlas! their Readers rarely penetrate 225<\/span>
\nWith BACON \u2019neath the surface of their Poems.7<\/span>
\nTo Minds which rightly think, nothing is mean<\/span>
\nBut evil Actions. Let us not despise<\/span>
\nA thing at first so contemptible<\/span>
\nAs an Old Besom, and much less the Man 230<\/span>
\nWho made it, poor he may ever be;<\/span>
\nNor ever shun his Friendship, if his Soul<\/span>
\nBe but one tithe as pure as the fresh Air<\/span>
\nAnd verdant Scenes in which he makes his Brooms.<\/span>
\nAnd if our glorious Literature to him 235<\/span>
\nHas been as a \u201cseal\u2019d Book;\u201d if Science ne\u2019er<\/span>
\nShow\u2019d him her grand Discoveries; if he<\/span>
\nBe not so perfect as Men will become,<\/span>
\nWhen knowledge of all Good \u201ccovers the Earth<\/span>
\nAs Waters do the Sea\u201d\u2014which yet will come:\u2014 240<\/span>
\nE\u2019en now he is the Brother of the best:<\/span>
\nOur duty lies in aiding to disperse<\/span>
\nThe clouds that hide him from the heavenly Light.<\/span>
\nThe very Broomstick, had its gift of Speech\u2014<\/span>
\nThough long since shorn of every green Leaf 245<\/span>
\nThat once were wont most gracefully to wave<\/span>
\nWhatever Wind might blow\u2014might sing to thee<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nOf happy Insects and rejoicing Birds<\/span>
\nWhich revell\u2019d in its Branches.<\/span>
\nAnd the Girths<\/span>
\n(Or Laggings as we Clevelanders them call) 250<\/span>
\nOf Bramble-briars which bind up the Ling,<\/span>
\nHad they the power of utterance might hymn<\/span>
\nA Melody more sweet than VIRGIL sang,<\/span>
\nAnd tell us how, when blooming in the Brake,<\/span>
\nA Poet came, and gazed with such delight, 255<\/span>
\nThat he felt forced to burst out into Song,<\/span>
\nIn praise of their pure \u201csatin-threaded Flowers.\u201d8<\/span>
\nAnd how, when black-ripe Fruit took place of Flowers,<\/span>
\nChildren and Birds alike were fain to go<\/span>
\nTo feast upon their luscious Dewberries; 260<\/span>
\nAnd how full many a Maid and Matron fair<\/span>
\nHad paused in passing, and with gentle Hands<\/span>
\nPluck\u2019d the wide Dessert, and their ruby Lips<\/span>
\nWere stain\u2019d by the refreshing Blackberries.<\/span>
\nSuch were the Thoughts which sprang into my Brain 265<\/span>
\nWhen meditating on a well-worn Broom,<\/span>
\nWhose Work has well-nigh done. Oh, when I die,<\/span>
\nMay my Life\u2019s Work, and theirs who read this Lay,<\/span>
\nProve half as good as that Old Besom\u2019s there!<\/span>
\nRose Cottage, Stokesley<\/span><\/b>
\n
<\/b>
\n[[1] sic]<\/span>
\nNOTES TO \u201cTHE POETRY OF AN OLD BESOM\u201d<\/span><\/b>
\nNote 1, Page 3.<\/span><\/b>
\nSee \u201cA Meditation upon a Broomstick, according to the Style and Manner of<\/span>
\nthe Hon. Robert Boyle<\/b>\u2019s Meditation,\u201d in which SWIFT exhibits all his trenchant<\/span>
\nHumour.<\/span>
\nNote 2, Page 5<\/span><\/b>
\nThe reader will remember the brave answer of King Harold<\/b> to his vile brother,<\/span>
\nTosti, (who had been driven from his mis-management of our district by the<\/span>
\nrevolt of the Northumbrians against his tyranny, and turned pirate,) to the<\/span>
\nquestion asked just after the Battle of Stamford Bridge, September 25th, 1066.<\/span>
\nWhat he would have given to his fellow-invader, Harold Hardrada, (or Harfager,)<\/span>
\nKing of Norway, whose five hundred ships had landed their cut-throat plunderers<\/span>
\nin Cleveland,\u2014\u201cI will give him Six Feet of Earth; but stay\u2014as he is a giant, he<\/i><\/span>
\nshall have Seven!<\/i>\u201d which one is glad to know was all he got.<\/span>
\nNote 3, Page 6<\/span><\/b>
\nIt was from wearing a sprig of the Planta Genista, or common Broom, in his<\/span>
\nhelmet, that Geoffry, Earl of Anjou, the father of King Henry the Second of<\/span>
\nEngland first obtained the surname of Plantagenet. SHAKSPERE\u2019s contemporary,<\/span>
\nand probably acquaintance, one of the earliest and best of our English<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nbotanists, JOHN GERARDE, recommended the pickled buds of the Broom,<\/span>
\nused as Capers, for a Tonic.<\/span>
\nNote 4, to Page 7<\/b>.<\/span>
\nThe common name for Foxglove, applied to the Digatalis purperea, is a<\/span>
\ncorruption of Folk\u2019s (that is Fairy\u2019s) Glove: and in some parts of Ireland it is<\/span>
\nnamed Fairy Thimbles and Fairy Bells; so that I am far from being the first to<\/span>
\nassociate this noble wildflower with our fanciful fairy lore.<\/span>
\nNote 5, Page 7<\/b>.<\/span>
\nSee the fine passage in the opening of the third scene of the second act of<\/span>
\nRomeo and Juliet. SHAKSPERE (whose knowledge of natural history was<\/span>
\nextensive, whatever literary charlatans, fitted for a lunatic asylum, scrabble to<\/span>
\nthe contrary) repeatedly alludes to the efficacy of Simples: and his friend,<\/span>
\nMICHAEL DRAYTON<\/b>, sings:\u2014<\/span>
\n\u201cOf Simples in these groves that grow,<\/span>
\nWe\u2019ll learn the perfect skill;<\/span>
\nThe nature of each Herb to know,\u2014<\/span>
\nWhich cures, and which can kill.\u201d<\/span>
\nMILTON, in his Comus, has:\u2014<\/span>
\n\u201cAnd show me Simples, of a thousand names,<\/span>
\nTelling their strange and vigorous faculties.\u201d<\/span>
\nDRYDEN, also, and many of our old English Poets, seems to have delighted<\/span>
\nto allude to the virtues of Herbs, then commonly called Simples.<\/span>
\nNote 6, to Page 7.<\/span><\/b>
\nBy the Act 34 & 35 Vict. C. 96, sec 3, any one selling or offering for sale<\/span>
\nhis skill in handicraft, even round his own home, without a license, is liable<\/span>
\nto fine or imprisonment. Finding poor old Jim Glasper<\/b>, the Stokesley scissor-grinder,<\/span>
\na few years ago, afraid to turn out with his wheel because he could<\/span>
\nnot raise the five shillings for the renewal of his license, and being too poor<\/span>
\nmyself to give him that sum, I rose it in small donations from people who had<\/span>
\nthe octogenarian for a lifetime, and procured him the last license he ever<\/span>
\nrequired. It has long ceased to concern poor old Jim, but the wrong yet<\/span>
\nremains unredressed,\u2014even under a Parliament elected by Household<\/span>
\nSuffrage!<\/span>
\nNote 7, to Page 9.<\/span><\/b>
\nI remember, full fifty years ago, reading a book by some learned Divine,<\/span>
\nwhose name I have long forgotten, in which he ignorantly branded the fine<\/span>
\nsymbolic teaching of the old Greek Mythology as a mere collection of bawdy<\/span>
\ntales; and this too more than two centuries after the wise BACON<\/b> had<\/span>
\npublished his Wisdom of the Ancients,\u2013 a work which no one should now be<\/span>
\nwithout seeing that Cassell & Co<\/i>. have brought out a complete edition at the<\/span>
\nlow price of Three-pence!<\/span>
\nNote 8, Page 10.<\/span>
\nEvery English reader is, or ought to be, familiar with EBENEZER ELLIOT<\/b>\u2019s<\/span>
\nsweet verses, \u201cTo the Bramble Flower<\/i>,\u201d\u2014which are quite sufficient of<\/span>
\nthemselves to preserve his name to remotest posterity.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nPaul Tweddell<\/b> says of this poem –<\/span>
\nAn Old Besom<\/i> is one of Tweddell’s longest poems and incorporates a number of styles to be found, albeit less extensively, in all his works. It was published in 1888 towards the end of the series of North of England Tractates <\/i>as No 32 and was dedicated To my esteemed friend of some forty years, Joseph Cowan Esq., of Stella Hall, Blaydonburn …until I have something better to offer for his acceptance.<\/i>” Cowan and his house was situated close to Newcastle-on-Tyne, for whom he had been the town’s Liberal Member of Parliament during the last decades of the 19thC, but had been a thorn in the side of the Prime Minister Lord Gladstone<\/b>. He owned a number of local newspapers, including the Evening Chronicle<\/i> to which Tweddell contributed articles. Cowan may have enjoyed the radical thoughts threaded through the poem, particularly, the trenchant comment in Note 6 <\/i>about the Liberal party’s thoughtless attitude toward the poor, as well as the approving comment in Note 8 <\/i>about the Yorkshire Chartist and poet, Ebenezer Elliott<\/b>, with whom Tweddell had corresponded, but never met (See here http:\/\/georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk\/2012\/11\/ebenezer-elliott-and-george-markham.html<\/span>
\nand the critical reference to the Englsih Enclosures of the Georgian period in lines 30 – 32)<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n…………………………….<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nEpigrams.<\/span><\/b>
\n1.<\/span>
\nNo tyrant\u2019s threats can harm the just,<\/span>
\nAlthough they are unpleasant;<\/span>
\nFor kings are but form\u2019d from the dust,<\/span>
\nSame as the humble peasant.<\/span>
\n2.<\/span>
\nThough dungeons dark his body hold, 5<\/span>
\nAnd slaves his name belie;<\/span>
\nThe patriot still, in virtue bold,<\/span>
\nCan all their hate defy.<\/span>
\nGeorge Markham Tweddell<\/span><\/b>
\n[Rhymes in M\/S, p. 9.] Also published:<\/span>
\nthe first verse as an epigram in the Stokesley News,<\/span>
\nJune 1, 1843; the Middlesbrough News, May 13,<\/span>
\n1864; and the Middlesbrough Miscellany No. 3. The<\/span>
\nsecond verse in the Voice of Masonry, Chicago,<\/span>
\nIllinois, U.S., Nov., 1883; in the Middlesbrough<\/span>
\nMiscellany, No. 6; and the Middlesbrough News, Dec.<\/span>
\n1, 1883. The two verses appeared together in the<\/span>
\nMasonic Review, Cincinnati, Ohio, U.S., Oct., 1884.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nEpigram<\/span><\/b>
\n
<\/span>
\nThough dangerous dark his body hold,<\/span>
\nAnd slaves his name belies,<\/span>
\nThe patriot still, in virtue held,<\/span>
\nCan all their hates defy.<\/span>
\nPeter Proletarius<\/span><\/b>
\n[Tweddell\u2019s Illustrated Annual 1881-1882, p. 24. Also in Tweddell\u2019s<\/span>
\nMiddlesbrough Miscellany, (1870), p. 75. See too p. 138]<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nPaul Tweddell<\/b> says of these poems ” Although Patriot <\/i>and Tyrant <\/i>still have a general meaning in everyday speech now, in Tweddell’s youth and early adulthood during the late 1830’s and 40’s these two words resonated with a special antithesis. Patriot<\/i> meant ‘a supporter of the Chartist cause, who sought wide-ranging constitutional change, tyrant most, but not all, in the establishment who opposed it, who used prison,…event the threat of hanging to supress Chartism, which they saw as treason.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nThe first tow epigrams exist in the M\/S Rhymes and was first published in Tweddell’s newspaper The Stokesley News and Cleveland Reporter<\/i> under his original name, George Tweddell,<\/b> on June 1st, 1843 and both were recycled in many publications until October 1884 in the Masonic review, Cincinnati, Ohio, US. The last appears in Tweddell’s Illustrated Annual 1881 – 1882<\/i> p 24 and written under Peter Proletarius<\/b>. It may have been resurrected (like others) for it must have seemed old-fashioned by the time it was published.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n……………………..<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nTea.<\/span><\/b>
\nHonour to him, whate\u2019er his Name might be,<\/span>
\nTo first to Europe brought the herb which makes<\/span>
\nOur daily drink, of which none e\u2019er partakes<\/span>
\nBut feels refresh\u2019d,\u2014a cup of wholesome Tea.<\/span>
\nWho \u2019t was is mere conjecture. History 5<\/span>
\nToo oft neglects e\u2019en to record the Name<\/span>
\nOf those who really have the greatest claim<\/span>
\nFor ages to be borne in memory.<\/span>
\nYea, many Names which she has handed down<\/span>
\nMight be forgot, and then the world would be 10<\/span>
\nNo poorer for the loss. Then join with me<\/span>
\nTo toast the memory this Friend unknown<\/span>
\nIn a good cup, and let us all agree<\/span>
\nIn future years to keep it from Taxation free.<\/span>
\nGeorge Markham Tweddell<\/span><\/b>
\n[Rhymes in M\/S, notional p. 51]<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nTrue Nobility.<\/span><\/b>
\nWhate\u2019er thy lineage\u2013whether nobly born,<\/span>
\nOr thy blood drawn from parents e\u2019er so poor\u2014<\/span>
\nBe this thy constant maxim\u2014Thou art sure,<\/span>
\nWhate\u2019er thy rank in life, ne\u2019er to adorn<\/span>
\nThy station if thy art in action prone 5<\/span>
\nTo evil deeds. By all means in thy power<\/span>
\nProve True Nobility to be a dower<\/span>
\nNature has given thee; ne\u2019er let it be torn<\/span>
\nFrom thee; for thou can never be forlorn<\/span>
\nWith it for thy compassion: in the hour 10<\/span>
\nOf trial, whatever clouds may lower<\/span>
\nAbove thy head, look for a brighter morn<\/span>
\nBreaking upon thee: keep thy spirit free<\/span>
\nFrom vice, and prove that thou has True Nobility.<\/span>
\nGeorge Markham Tweddell<\/span><\/b>
\n[Rhymes in M\/S, notional p. 52]<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\nPaul Tweddell<\/b> says “Two sonnets above taken from pp. 51 and 52 of a manuscript collection in the poet’s own hand. The manuscript books are now in Teesside Archives<\/i> (list is in the menu bar above) and also in the  Collected Poems of George Markham Tweddell <\/b>also available as a PDF file on this blog.<\/span>
\n
<\/span>
\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Paul Tweddell in Rose Cottage, Stokesley as it is today. Before his demise, George Markham Tweddell’s descendant, during the work pulling together Tweddell’s collected poems from many books, journals and newspapers, proposed a series of three small poetry chapbooks consisting of  some the favourite poems by Tweddell. Vol 1 Trev Teasdel’s choice (Consultant) Vol 2 Kathleen Fry’s choice […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/34"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=34"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/34\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=34"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=34"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsrainbow.com\/georgemarkhamtweddell\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=34"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}