Otterbourne's Enid Blyton? Charlotte M. Yonge (1823-1901) / Hampshire Reading Detectives

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Otterbourne's Enid Blyton? Charlotte M. Yonge (1823-1901) Find!

One of the great appeals of the Reading Detectives project is the impetus it's given me to explore my new home. I moved to Otterbourne 18 months ago and, while quickly getting to know the local pubs and walks, have yet to make the acquaintance of our local church. However, Otterbourne's most famous resident, signposted on various plaques, is Charlotte Mary Yonge, the prolific Victorian authoress -- she published roughly two books per year for 40 years, encompassing novels, histories, biographies, and improving texts.

While novels like "The Heir of Redclyffe" and "The Daisy Chain" proved popular during her life, I wanted to find out more about what she thought of her home village. Chandler's Ford library provided "Old Times At Otterbourne," her history of the village and its links with the wider world of Winchester from Roman times through to (her) present day -- including the building of a castle at Hursley during the reign of King Stephen, the digging of the Itchen canal, and the perils of travel at that time:

"In those days there was only a foot bridge across the Itchen at Brambridge. Carts and carriages had to ford the river, not straight across but making a slight curve downwards; this led to awkward accidents. There was a gentleman dining with Mr Walter Smythe, who was pressed to sleep at Brambridge, but declined, saying that he liked to have all his little comforts about him. When daylight came, the poor man was found seated on the top of his chaise, the water flowing through the windows below; for the post boy had taken a wrong turn, and, being afraid to move, had been forced to remain in the river till the morning."

In passing, she mentions another great Hampshire writer, William Cobbett -- the subject of a future post.

"Another great road was made at the same time -- that which crosses Colden Common and leads ultimately to Portsmouth. It used to be called Cobbett's Road, because William Cobbett, a clever, self-taught man, had much to do with laying it out. Cobbett had a good many theories, which he tried to put into practice, some sensible, others mistaken. The principal traces we see of him now are in the trees that he planted, chiefly introduced from America...He was a friend of Mr Harley, who then owned Otterbourne House, and planted many curious trees there ..."

Much of this slim volume is devoted to a description of the old church along Kiln Lane; although long gone, many gravestones remain in the old churchyard there. Construction on the "new" church started in 1836, partly to make it more convenient for the majority of the villagers, partly to avoid the noise that the new London to Southampton railway would involve. The new church was constructed under the auspices of the new Vicar of Hursley and Otterbourne, John Keble -- who was to become Charlotte's spiritual guide and literary mentor -- and Charlotte's father. The Yonge family had arrived in Otterbourne in 1822 and were active members of the community -- founding the village school for girls, for example -- and passed on this devotion to public service to their daughter. One example is the lovely lych gate at Otterbourne church that she donated in 1893.

Her history of Otterbourne finishes with "Old Remembrances," a 36-verse poetic recap of the book. Here's a short snippet to whet the appetite:

"I remember, I remember,
When ships were beauteous things,
The floating castles of the deep
Borne upon snow-white wings;

Ere iron-clads and turret ships
Ugly as evil dream,
Became the hideous progeny
Of iron and of steam.

You crossed the Itchen ferry
All in an open boat
Now, on a panting hissing bridge
You scarcely seem afloat.

Southampton docks were sheets of mud,
Grim colliers at the quay.
No tramway, and no slender pier
To stretch into the sea."

Charlotte M. Yonge died in 1901 and is buried in Otterbourne churchyard alongside Keble.

Her obituary in The Times stated:

"Not only to the gentle inmates of country rectories, but to many people who lay claim to a wider literary appreciation than is sometimes to be found there, the news of Miss Charlotte Yonge's death comes with a sense of a personal loss . . . it is of course as a writer that Miss Yonge will be remembered. She had an inventive mind and a ready pen, and a bare list of the books written or edited by her would probably occupy nearly a whole column of The Times. She wrote chiefly for young people, especially young girls, and her books are the result not only of a strong ethical purpose, but also of her firm devotion to the High Church view of Christian doctrine and practice. No doubt this caused her to be ignored by many hasty literary critics, who regarded her as beneath consideration, under the mistaken idea that her books were merely 'goody-goody' tracts in the guise of fiction, or at best, sentimental tales of dull girls. Against this view must be set the fact that her books were and still are read and re-read with keen delight not only by young girls but by older people whose literary judgment is not to be despised."

I'm not sure if my literary judgment is to be despised or not, but I enjoyed reading her tales of Otterbourne and was able to impress my companion with interesting facts and figures when, taking advantage of the first sunshine for a month, we paid a visit to Otterbourne's churches, old and new. If you're interested in reading some of her novels, Project Gutenberg has a number of them available to download.

9 August 2009 from Rachel the editor

2 Comments

Angela | August 17, 2009 4:47 PM | Reply

Charlotte is intriguing; a Victorian bestseller, a didactic writer whose biography was entitled 'The Story of an Uneventful Life', a benefactress who gave away all the profits from her writing. Her fiction could be considered as having fallen from fashion, her moralising overshadowing any literary merit. Yet in her day admirers included Tennyson and Trollope. Is she still a good read today? 'The Heir of Redclyffe' is most often cited as being the best. I picked up a copy of 'The Trail', it's a thick paperback with dense type. I've so much other reading to do linked to this project and beyond that it has remained unopened. Should I pursue it? I'm open to persuasion on this one...

Rachel the editor | August 23, 2009 1:37 PM | Reply

I will certainly try one of her novels but rather later in the year, I think. That type of dense, Victorian novel is best read on a cold, autumnal evening in front of a fire -- not during the (few) hot days of summer.

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