A decision

Saturday, January 1st., Cadogan Square, London.

 

Very feeble this morning after the New Year's Eve carousing, and bed at 2.30. Too late for me nowadays! Towards noon I walked to South Kensington Museum to see the temporary exhibition of commercial printing and illustration. I met D.S. McColl there. He told me that some time since Tonks had been 'very much bitten with the idea' of illustrating "The Old Wives' Tale". I never knew before. Wonder if it might be worth a luxury illustrated edition? I remember that Sickert wanted to illustrate "Clayhanger". I am glad really that nothing came of either scheme because their conceptions of the characters would not be the same as mine, and would confuse my mental images.

Feeling physically better after this afternoon's sleep, but in a reflective mood. I got to thinking about New Years past. Remembered that once, as a youth, I walked up to Mow Cop on New Year's Day. Don't think I had been there before though of course I knew of it and its history. Nobody else there and I recall standing at the top looking out over the vast Cheshire plain. I felt as if I could see forever. Exhilarating. I stood there for ages, with my back to the smoke and gloom of the Potteries, just breathing deep lungfulls of clean air. I think it was then that I decided, though I didn't formulate the thought clearly, that I wouldn't stay in the Potteries, but would seek my fortune elsewhere. And that is what I have been doing since.

On my way back that day I stopped at St. James church in Newchapel to have a look at the grave of James Brindley. Not much to see, but I was told once by Uncle John that the Bennetts were descended illegitimately from 'Schemer' Brindley. When I got home my mother asked me what I had been doing out so long. "Oh, not much", I said.

Rough justice

Friday, January 5th., Trinity Hall Farm.

My father, in a mood of reminiscence, told us of an incident which, he said, happened when he was about 8. He seemed fairly sure of the date, but I should say that he would be more probably 10 or 12; anyhow he still wore pinafores. At the time, being highly precocious, he taught in a sort of night school, and earned 2d, a night for so doing.

Mow Cop Castle

One day he was fetched out of day school by an older boy who had just begun to work in the office of Sneyd Colliery. This boy had embezzled certain small sums (my father did not know this until later) and was itching to spend. They took train to Stone and there bought a lop-eared rabbit. Returning to Burslem they walked with a third boy (George Wigley) to Mow Cop, and bought there a donkey for 12s. The Sneyd boy drove the donkey home, while father and Wigley carried the lop-eared rabbit in a basket.

Father reached home about midnight. My grandmother had sent the town crier round to 'cry' him. By a lie he managed to escape immediate consequences. But on the third day my grandfather entered his bedroom carrying a pair of braces. In the meantime the whole adventure had revealed itself. My grandfather set himself specially against the lying. First of all he knelt down and prayed, then he thrashed father with the braces until neither of them could very well stand. My father remembers how his mother afterwards, with tears, displayed his bruised back for the commiseration of a neighbour. At that time my father was accustomed daily to strip everything but his trousers and wash in the yard at the rear of the house. The Bennetts then lived in Pitt Street just off the Waterloo Road.

A reminiscence

Friday, January 5th., Fulham Park Gardens, London.

My father, in a mood of reminiscence, told us of an incident which, he said, happened when he was about eight. (He seemed fairly sure about the date, but I would say he would more probably be ten or twelve; anyhow he still wore pinafores.) At the time, being highly precocious, he taught in a sort of night school and earned 2d. a night for so doing. One day he was fetched out of day-school by an older boy, who had just begun to work in the office of Sneyd Colliery. This boy had embezzled certain small sums - my father did not know this till afterwards - and was itching to spend. They took train to Stone and there bought a lop-eared rabbit. Returning to Burslem they walked with a third boy (George Wigley) to Mow Cop, and bought there a donkey for 12s. The Sneyd boy drove the donkey home, while father and Wigley carried the lop-eared rabbit in a basket.

Father reached home about midnight. My grandmother had sent the Town Crier round to 'cry' him. By a lie he managed to escape immediate consequences. But on the third day my grandfather entered his bedroom carrying a pair of braces. In the meantime the whole adventure had revealed itself. My grandfather set himself specially against the lying. First of all he knelt down and prayed, then he thrashed father with the braces till neither of them could very well stand. My father remembers how his mother afterwards, with tears, displayed his bruised back for the commiseration of a neighbour. At that time my father was accustomed daily to strip everything but his trousers and wash in the yard at the rear of the house. The Bennetts then lived in Pitt Street.

Additionally for January 5th., see 'Commencing Clayhanger' -
http://earnoldbennett.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/commencing-clayhanger.html

This morning at 9.45 I began writing "Clayhanger". I felt less nervous and self-conscious than usual in beginning a book. And never before have I made one-quarter so many preliminary notes and investigations. I went out for a little recess, and at 1.30 I had done 1,000 words, which was very good for a first day.