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The　Spirit　of　Place　and　Other　Essays



by　Alice　Meynell







Contents：



The　Spirit　of　Place

Mrs。　Dingley

Solitude

The　Lady　of　the　Lyrics

July

Wells

The　Foot

Have　Patience；　Little　Saint

The　Ladies　of　the　Idyll

A　Derivation

A　Counterchange

Rain

Letters　of　Marceline　Valmore

The　Hours　of　Sleep

The　Horizon

Habits　and　Consciousness

Shadows







THE　SPIRIT　OF　PLACE







With　mimicry；　with　praises；　with　echoes；　or　with　answers；　the　poets

have　all　but　outsung　the　bells。　　The　inarticulate　bell　has　found　too

much　interpretation；　too　many　rhymes　professing　to　close　with　her

inaccessible　utterance；　and　to　agree　with　her　remote　tongue。　　The

bell；　like　the　bird；　is　a　musician　pestered　with　literature。



To　the　bell；　moreover；　men　do　actual　violence。　　You　cannot　shake

together　a　nightingale's　notes；　or　strike　or　drive　them　into　haste；

nor　can　you　make　a　lark　toll　for　you　with　intervals　to　suit　your

turn；　whereas　wedding…bells　are　compelled　to　seem　gay　by　mere

movement　and　hustling。　　I　have　known　some　grim　bells；　with　not　a

single　joyous　note　in　the　whole　peal；　so　forced　to　hurry　for　a　human

festival；　with　their　harshness　made　light　of；　as　though　the　Bishop

of　Hereford　had　again　been　forced　to　dance　in　his　boots　by　a　merry

highwayman。



The　clock　is　an　inexorable　but　less　arbitrary　player　than　the

bellringer；　and　the　chimes　await　their　appointed　time　to　flywild

prisonersby　twos　or　threes；　or　in　greater　companies。　　Fugitives

one　or　twelve　taking　wingthey　are　sudden；　they　are　brief；　they　are

gone；　they　are　delivered　from　the　close　hands　of　this　actual

present。　　Not　in　vain　is　the　sudden　upper　door　opened　against　the

sky；　they　are　away；　hours　of　the　past。



Of　all　unfamiliar　bells；　those　which　seem　to　hold　the　memory　most

surely　after　but　one　hearing　are　bells　of　an　unseen　cathedral　of

France　when　one　has　arrived　by　night；　they　are　no　more　to　be

forgotten　than　the　bells　in　〃Parsifal。〃　　They　mingle　with　the　sound

of　feet　in　unknown　streets；　they　are　the　voices　of　an　unknown　tower；

they　are　loud　in　their　own　language。　　The　spirit　of　place；　which　is

to　be　seen　in　the　shapes　of　the　fields　and　the　manner　of　the　crops；

to　be　felt　in　a　prevalent　wind；　breathed　in　the　breath　of　the　earth；

overheard　in　a　far　street…cry　or　in　the　tinkle　of　some　black…smith；

calls　out　and　peals　in　the　cathedral　bells。　　It　speaks　its　local

tongue　remotely；　steadfastly；　largely；　clamorously；　loudly；　and

greatly　by　these　voices；　you　hear　the　sound　in　its　dignity；　and　you

know　how　familiar；　how　childlike；　how　lifelong　it　is　in　the　ears　of

the　people。　　The　bells　are　strange；　and　you　know　how　homely　they

must　be。　　Their　utterances　are；　as　it　were；　the　classics　of　a

dialect。



Spirit　of　place！　　It　is　for　this　we　travel；　to　surprise　its

subtlety；　and　where　it　is　a　strong　and　dominant　angel；　that　place；

seen　once；　abides　entire　in　the　memory　with　all　its　own　accidents；

its　habits；　its　breath；　its　name。　　It　is　recalled　all　a　lifetime；

having　been　perceived　a　week；　and　is　not　scattered　but　abides；　one

living　body　of　remembrance。　　The　untravelled　spirit　of　placenot　to

be　pursued；　for　it　never　flies；　but　always　to　be　discovered；　never

absent；　without　variationlurks　in　the　by…ways　and　rules　over　the

towers；　indestructible；　an　indescribable　unity。　　It　awaits　us　always

in　its　ancient　and　eager　freshness。　　It　is　sweet　and　nimble　within

its　immemorial　boundaries；　but　it　never　crosses　them。　　Long　white

roads　outside　have　mere　suggestions　of　it　and　prophecies；　they　give

promise　not　of　its　coming；　for　it　abides；　but　of　a　new　and　singular

and　unforeseen　goal　for　our　present　pilgrimage；　and　of　an　intimacy

to　be　made。　　Was　ever　journey　too　hard　or　too　long　that　had　to　pay

such　a　visit？　　And　if　by　good　fortune　it　is　a　child　who　is　the

pilgrim；　the　spirit　of　place　gives　him　a　peculiar　welcome；　for

antiquity　and　the　conceiver　of　antiquity　（who　is　only　a　child）　know

one　another；　nor　is　there　a　more　delicate　perceiver　of　locality　than

a　child。　　He　is　well　used　to　words　and　voices　that　he　does　not

understand；　and　this　is　a　condition　of　his　simplicity；　and　when

those　unknown　words　are　bells；　loud　in　the　night；　they　are　to　him　as

homely　and　as　old　as　lullabies。



If；　especially　in　England；　we　make　rough　and　reluctant　bells　go　in

gay　measures；　when　we　whip　them　to　run　down　the　scale　to　ring　in　a

weddingbells　that　would　step　to　quite　another　and　a　less　agile

march　with　a　better　gracethere　are　belfries　that　hold　far　sweeter

companies。　　If　there　is　no　music　within　Italian　churches；　there　is　a

most　curious　local　immemorial　music　in　many　a　campanile　on　the

heights。　　Their　way　is　for　the　ringers　to　play　a　tune　on　the

festivals；　and　the　tunes　are　not　hymn　tunes　or　popular　melodies；　but

proper　bell…tunes；　made　for　bells。　　Doubtless　they　were　made　in

times　better　versed　than　ours　in　the　sub…divisions　of　the　arts；　and

better　able　to　understand　the　strength　that　lies　ready　in　the　mere

little　submission　to　the　means　of　a　little　art；　and　to　the　limits

nay；　the　very　embarrassmentsof　those　means。　　If　it　were　but

possible　to　give　here　a　real　bell…tunewhich　cannot　be；　for　those

melodies　are　rather　longthe　reader　would　understand　how　some

village　musician　of　the　past　used　his　narrow　means　as　a　composer　for

the　bells；　with　what　freshness；　completeness；　significance；　fancy；

and　what　effect　of　liberty。



These　hamlet…bells　are　the　sweetest；　as　to　their　own　voices；　in　the

world。　　Then　I　speak　of　their　antiquity　I　use　the　word　relatively。

The　belfries　are　no　older　than　the　sixteenth　or　seventeenth　century；

the　time　when　Italy　seems　to　have　been　generally　rebuilt。　　But；

needless　to　say；　this　is　antiquity　for　music；　especially　in　Italy。

At　that　time　they　must　have　had　foundries　for　bells　of　tender

voices；　and　pure；　warm；　light；　and　golden　throats；　precisely　tuned。

The　hounds　of　Theseus　had　not　a　more　just　scale；　tuned　in　a　peal；

than　a　North　Italian　belfry　holds　in　leash。　　But　it　does　not　send

them　out　in　a　mere　scale；　it　touches　them　in　the　order　of　the　game

of　a　charming　melody。　　Of　all　cheerful　sounds　made　by　man　this　is　by

far　the　most　light…hearted。　　You　do　not　hear　it　from　the　great

churches。　　Giotto's　coloured　tower　in　Florence；　that　carries　the

bells　for　Santa　Maria　del　Fiore　and　Brunelleschi's　silent　dome；　does

not　ring　more　than　four　contralto　notes；　tuned　with　sweetness；

depth；　and　dignity；　and　swinging　one　musical　phrase　which　softly

fills　the　country。



The　village　belfry　it　is　that　grows　so　fantastic　and　has　such　nimble

bells。　　Obviously　it　stands　alone　with　its　own　village；　and　can

therefore　hear　its　own　tune　from　beginning　to　end。　　There　are　no

other　bells　in　earshot。　　Other　such　dovecote…doors　are　suddenly　set

open　to　the　cloud；　on　a　festa　morning；　to　let　fly　those　soft…voiced

flocks；　but　the　nearest　is　behind　one　of　many　mountains；　and　our

local　tune　is　uninterrupted。　　Doubtless　this　is　why　the　little；

secluded；　sequestered　art　of　composing　melodies　for　bellscharming

division　of　an　art；　having　its　own　ends　and　means；　and　keeping　its

own　wings　for　unfolding　by　lawdwells　in　these　solitary　places。　　No

tunes　in　a　town　would　get　this　hearing；　or　would　be　made　clear　to

the　end　of　their　frolic　amid　such　a　wide　and　lofty　silence。



Nor　does　every　inner　village　of　Italy　hold　a　bell…tune　of　its　own；

the　custom　is　Ligurian。　　Nowhere　so　much　as　in　Genoa　does　the

nervous　tourist　complain　of　church　bells　in　the　morning；　and　in　fact

he　is　made　to　hear　an　honest　rout　of　them　betimes。　　But　the　nervous

tourist　has　not；　perhaps；　the　sense　of　place；　and　the　genius　of

place　does　not　signal　to　him　to　go　and　find　it　among　innumerable

hills；　where　one　by　one；　one　by　one；　the　belfries　stand　and　play

their　tunes。　　Variable　are　those　lonely　melodies；　having　a　differing

gaiety　for　the　festivals；　and　a　pitiful　air　is　played　for　the　burial

of　a　villager。



As　for　the　poets；　there　is　but　one　among　so　many　of　their　bells　that

seems　to　toll　with　a　spiritual　music　so　loud　as　to　be　unforgotten

when　the　mind　goes　up　a　little　higher　than　the　earth；　to　listen　in

thought　to　earth's　untethered　sounds。　　This　is　Milton's　curfew；　that

sways　across　one　of　the　greatest　of　all　the　seashores　of　poetry

〃the　wide…watered。〃







MRS。　DINGLEY







We　cannot　do　her　honour　by　her　Christian　name。　｛1｝　　All　we　have　to

call　her　by　more　tenderly　is　the　mere　D；　the　D　that　ties　her　to

Stella；　with　whom　she　made　the　two…in…one　whom　Swift　loved　〃better　a

thousand　times　than　life；　as　hope　saved。〃　　MD；　without　full　stops；

Swift　writes　it　eight　times　in　a　line　for　the　pleasure　of　writing

it。　　〃MD　sometimes　means　Stella　alone；〃　says　one　of　many　editors。

〃The　letters　were　written　nominally　to　Stella　and　Mrs。　Dingley；〃

says　another；　〃but　it　does　not　require　to　be　said　that　it　was　really

for　Stella's　sake　alone　that　they　were　penned。〃　　Not　so。　　〃MD〃　never

stands　for　Stella　alo