Worcester, Sept. 7Dear Honey:-
This is like Commencement in the general rush and tumult! But I have a room with two beds - and five pots! I'm somewhat at a loss to understand this. Last night I had three - now two are proper, but why five?
Well - my experience at the British Camp was amusing! Those folks were mighty nice to me - and the Winchester group was delightful. The wife and two charming boys of the Bishop of Liverpool (David by name) came yesterday and today I might have seen the Bishop had I stayed. He sounded very interesting - personal investigation of miners' conditions, &c. And the new cathedral is growing apace.
Sunday evening I went with the Nibletts to service in the Priory Church, Malvern, very lovely. It has some beautiful old glass in the east window, not as wonderful as Tewksbury but lovely all the same.
Monday I went over to Malvern - busses very convenient - for a few errands, and climbed the highest hill, the Worcestershire Beacon, 1395 feet or thereabouts. There's a donkey trail and donkeys at the bottom, many, very cunning, but I went on two feet. The slope is rather steep, but one is getting views all the time, towers through the valleys and more distance, and the other pleasant slopes. It's really very engaging, even though rather mild. I'd be glad to come again. The Beacon has a map on top under glass, but it was still too hazy to see much, though it didn't rain much after I got going. It was possible to come down at the Wyche and catch the bus there.
After dinner I slept and packed and then while the other folks had tea I set forth for the other side. Explored those interesting fortifications some more - really very remarkable. The turf is perfectly charming to walk on, like a close cropped lawn for miles - sheep, of course. There's what looks like an old road, a ridge trail, for about 20 miles all told, I should say, but whether it dates from the time of the camp, I don't know. It's quite entertaining to look over the valley and meditate on the old invaders and defenders.
In the evening the Hardy family including the bishop's sons played a game called "Happy families", an English stand-by with very quaint cards, somewhat like authors. The spontaneity and sweetness of those 11 & 14 year old boys was charming. The older is at Rugby where his father was head-master before becoming bishop.
This morning I came on to Worcester in time to drop my things and get to the cathedral at 11:30. The place was packed. The whole west end is filled with a huge sloping stage, for the chorus of maybe 400 voices, boys, men & women. The women wear little black veils on their heads. The boys & men are from the cathedral choirs, & others. An orchestra from the London Symphony sits in front with soloists nearest the audience, which is everywhere. My seat was good, for 7/6. I could see two soloists, though not the conductor. First we had a few prayers, then God Save the King, a mixture of soloists, chorus and audience, very splendid indeed. Then Elijah. I've just read how Jenny Lind knew Mendelssohn and sang in it, rather pleasant. 'Twas a magnificent rendering - seems to me I'll never want to hear it again. I'd forgotten how finely the dramatic power of the story is used. The episodes of the widow's son, Baal's prophets and the boy and the raincloud, oh, yes, the wind - still small voice, were really thrilling. The soprano was lovely - voice very clear and true - and Elijah was quite impressive. That trio, "Lift thine eyes", was exquisite.
The first part was through at about 12:50, when we went away for lunch. I went to what was called the "Public Luncheons", the same being in the old monks' Refectory, now the Hall of a Boy's School. Fine old room, with lists of students who have won special distinction on the walls - long, old & new, and varied distinctions, Oxford & Camb, army and navy &c. The second part began at 2:30 and was over about 4 - in time for tea! Instead I went down nearby to see the Royal Worcester factory. The twins, indeed any multi-plets, of your little white pitcher are there. It's most remarkable and very ably expounded by guides, who are men who have been long in the works themselves, one had been a moulder, one a decorator, the latter now in the museum as a guide to the historical series.
First we saw the raw ingredients, Cornish stone, Cornish clay and ox bones, (calcined). The Parian marble has also Swedish feldspar (calcined) and the glaze has flint from Dieppe (calcined) and a special glass formula. We saw how the molding is begun on a wheel, and finished in plaster molds which absorb the moisture, after which the piece shrinks enough to drop out. It is then thin clay and brittle, very. We saw handles put on cups, oh, so deftly, by a little moist clay and a brush. These handles had been formed in a mold beforehand. We were shown figures, and F. Foss would have been entertained at that, one statuette is made in 27 parts, then put together before being baked. Those exquisite lacey vases have their holes cut out by hand at this brittle stage, but their best artist for this, Owings (?) by name, died, and his son quit work on father's savings. One workman we watched was the third generation at that one branch!
The baking is in furnaces, each piece packed in powdered flint (?) in earthenware jackets - 600-700 dozen stacked in at once, with 8 fires around, baked 48-50 hours, and cooled as long.
Then the decorating is done, or sometimes the glaze may be put on first - as a liquid, then baked again. The decorating may be by "transfers", i.e. designs lithographed on paper which are put face down on the dishes which have just been given a coat of special varnish, treated while still sticky. The paper is well wetted by water and then gently rubbed off leaving the color on the dish! The more elaborate things are handpainted, often with several bakings in process, and always the danger of cracking in baking or cooling. We saw some in the museum where after the thing was all painted certain little raised blue spots had meant three more bakings after careful painting of them on. The gold is 22 carat, put on as an ugly greenish mixture with mercury & something else, tar of some sort. This all burns off in the baking. The gold then has to be hand burnished by rubbing with pencils of agate, blood-stone &c. Any little old edge has to be hand burnished. Imperfectly gilded places may be patched in - we saw a man doing this, and many women, young and old, burnishing, some simple, some elaborate pieces.
The museum is most interesting, the evolution of perfection, the variety of styles and patterns and color - the dominance of now one thing, now another. Just now there's a craze for fruit decorations. I sure did want to buy some of the things with lovely texture and color.
Then I got back to the cathedral for the 5 o'clock service with the 3 cathedral choirs singing. Magnificat, nunc dimittis and anthem were all unaccompanied. Mr. Hammond would have loved it, I'm sure.
Sept. 8.
Today came a performance of the Kingdon, by Sir E. Edgar, conducted by himself. It's modern, undoubtedly and complex, and it would seem to me he had no mercy on voices, but yet the thing has an excellent libretto and many fine passages. He seemed to me to drag out, both musically in composition, and in tempo in his conducting the unimportant narrative stuff, and I can't think Peter was so sort of richly sentimental in his meditating! The Peter was good in voice but it seemed to me John sort of fumbled his notes at times. The Pentecostal wind and tongues of flame were great, but the speaking with tongues was a confused hash, wherein I was quite unable to recognize the tongue wherein I was born! No, I can't think this as good for its age as Mendelssohn, even though Sir Edwin is a great man. He came from near here, so his music is emphasized. This afternoon there was a mixed program, some chorus work, of which the best seemed to me an old six-part motet, unaccompanied, and a Brahms symphony, of which the program notes were most helpful, way beyond the Hale notes for the Bost. Symph. The Cathedral was packed as yesterday. Tonight's concert is in a hall, but I'm not there - two a day is enough, though I went to Vespers, partly to see more of the cathedral, which naturally is cut off from being "sight-seen" this week. It's a very beautiful one, with a fine chance to compare Early English and Decorated styles. I'm coming on! I even begin to spot the Transitional, and couldn't find a postcard of those particular boys to prove it! I certainly do wish I had my "Gothic" book with me, the one I bought before, with all the pictures. I'm crazy to see what the author chose from this group of cathedrals! I know what I'd pick, and what omit - I think.
There's a nice walk along the Severn, and tomorrow there's a pleasure boat to Tewksbury, which would be charming. Instead I took a bus to any old suburb, and fell in with the Hoppers - and they certainly are the slums incarnate. London is here, also local slum. One sat with me, dirty both self and child, yet pleasant to talk with. They like the hopping, and even this three-year old had picked a few. There's a lot of child labor, clearly, but how hard they work I don't know. This woman and her mother had earned 8s 6d together today. They pick into a "crib" from which the overseer comes around and measures and collects. That's about half the minimum wage for a miner if I have the hang of the discussion.
Worcester is where Dent's and other gloves are made - skin and fabric. One could buy very well here if wise, I think. I got one more pair, for it would never due [sic] to give gloves to two of my three cousins - Jessee, Mittie & Emma! Hope to goodness I've guessed sizes - but I'm not at all sure. Fat folks don't always have plump hands. - I'm close [sic] this tomorrow night at Southampton.
Sept. 9.
I'm now there [arrow drawn to the word "Southampton" above] and at such a nice place. I find Miss Laird's name on the list also, and recently. The house is primarily for the Americans coming & going, a small guest house, with friendly conversation, &c.
The stop at Winchester was tantalizing in that there was so short a time to see so much! But I was saved from parting with my money by the stores being closed! And there were such nice candlesticks, on old models, not expensive! The cathedral is surely as lovely as any, and I fell in with a group going up the tower, my fourth this summer. We went up the extreme east end, to a watching chamber over St. Swithin's shrine, then through the long choir attic to the tower where the verger had a nice game with hand bells which he got eight men to play tunes on - very sweet tones and amusing. We went up by the bells which hang in a part of the tower having beautiful Norman arches which don't show at all from below - such a pity, then to the roof which they are releading now so we saw the huge beams, since 1500 or some such date - inconceivably far back!
The College has some new cloisters, very beautiful, a war memorial. And the old ones with the chantry in the middle are exquisite - indeed the whole place is just what nice Mr. Hardy must adore. I'm glad he is not moving away. He's helping to make a mediaeval Latin dictionary! And doing much filling in of chinks, I judge.
The lady here is so sweet about helping one do things! And I find my trunk has arrived - a miracle occurred in that the man in charge of baggage lists at the Royal Mail Office came back after closing time, when I arrived. My Winchester train was late - but all is well. Also I've washed a little, just to keep up the custom to the end. A good drying night after the dust of Worcester and the cathedral climbing was too much for me. Let's hope the fog doesn't roll in! The house - and my room - has a charming view over some stretch of water.
Good-bye, and much love, honey. I'll be glad to see you, soon after this reaches you -