Perlycross: A Tale of the Western Hills

by R.D. Blackmore

Perlycross - A Tale of the Western Hills by R. D. Blackmore

In the year 1835, the Rev. Philip Penniloe was Curate-in-charge of Perlycross, a village in a valley of the Blackdown Range. It was true that the Rector, the Rev. John Chevithorne, M.A., came twice every year to attend to his tithes; but otherwise he never thought of interfering, and would rather keep his distance from spiritual things. Mr. Penniloe had been his College-tutor, and still was his guide upon any points of duty less cardinal than discipline of dogs and horses.

The title of "Curate-in-charge" as yet was not invented generally; but far more Curates held that position than hold it in these stricter times. And the shifting of Curates from parish to parish was not so frequent as it is now; theological views having less range and rage, and Curates less divinity. Moreover it cost much more to move.

But the Curate of Perlycross was not of a lax or careless nature. He would do what his conscience required, at the cost of his last penny; and he thought and acted as if this world were only the way to a better one. In this respect he differed widely from all the people of his parish, as well as from most of his Clerical brethren. And it is no little thing to say of him, that he was beloved in spite of his piety.

Especially was he loved and valued by a man who had known him from early days, and was now the Squire, and chief landowner, in the parish of Perlycross. Sir Thomas Waldron, of Walderscourt, had battled as bravely with the sword of steel, as the Churchman had with the spiritual weapon, receiving damages more substantial than the latter can inflict. Although by no means invalided, perhaps he had been pleased at first to fall into the easy lap of peace. After eight years of constant hardship, frequent wounds, and famishing, he had struck his last blow at Waterloo, and then settled down in the English home, with its comforting cares, and mild delights.

Now, in his fiftieth year, he seemed more likely to stand on the battlements of life than many a lad of twenty. Straight and tall, robust and ruddy, clear of skin, and sound of foot, he was even cited by the doctors of the time, as a proof of the benefit that flows from bleeding freely. Few men living had shed more blood (from their own veins at any rate) for the good of their native land, and none had made less fuss about it; so that his Country, with any sense of gratitude, must now put substance into him. Yet he was by no means over fat; simply in good case, and form. In a word, you might search the whole county, and find no finer specimen of a man, and a gentleman too, than Colonel Sir Thomas Waldron.

All this Mr. Penniloe knew well; and having been a small boy, when the Colonel was a big one, at the best school in the west of England, he owed him many a good turn for the times when the body rules the roost, and the mind is a little chick, that can't say—"Cockadoodle." In those fine days, education was a truly rational process; creating a void in the juvenile system by hunger, and filling it up with thumps. Scientific research has now satisfied itself that the mind and the body are the selfsame thing; but this was not understood as yet, and the one ministered to the other. For example, the big Tom Waldron supplied the little Phil Penniloe with dumps and penny-puddings, and with fists ever ready for his defence; while the quicker mind sat upon the broad arch of chest sprawling along the old oak bench, and construed the lessons for it, or supplied the sad hexameter. When such a pair meet again in later life, sweet memories arise, and fine goodwill.

Genres: British Literature, Historical Fiction, Classics

555 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1894

About the author

Richard Doddridge Blackmore, referred to most commonly as R.D. Blackmore, was one of the most famous English novelists of his generation. Over the course of his career, Blackmore achieved a close following around the world. He won literary merit and acclaim for his vivid descriptions and personification of the countryside, sharing with Thomas Hardy a Western England background and a strong sense of regional setting in his works.[1] Noted for his eye for and sympathy with nature, critics of the time described this as one of the most striking features of his writings.

Blackmore, a popular novelist of the second half of the nineteenth century, often referred to as the "Last Victorian", acted as pioneer of the new romantic movement in fiction that continued with Robert Louis Stevenson and others. He may be said to have done for Devon what Sir Walter Scott did for the Highlands and Hardy for Wessex. Blackmore has been described as "proud, shy, reticent, strong-willed, sweet-tempered, and self-centred."

Though very popular in his time, Blackmore's work has since been altogether ignored, and his entire body of work, save for his magnum opus Lorna Doone, which has enjoyed considerable popularity since its being published, has gone out of publication. Thus his reputation rests chiefly upon this romantic work, in spite of the fact that it was not his favourite.

Reviews

[Richard Rogers · Rating 4 out of 5]

Less famous than the author's big hit, Lorna Doone, Perlycross is well worth reading and almost as good as the other. Where Lorna Doone offered a good share of action to go with its 19th Century style romance, Perlycross gives us more of the novel-of-manners vibe, or coming closer to a George Eliot examination of small town characters.

I liked it--almost gave it a 5 instead of 4--but honesty requires I say it was a *touch* less entertaining than I wanted. Good not great. (I missed the action, tbh.)

There is a central plot running throughout, where the remains of the local lord disappear the day after his interment and all the signs point at the nearest doctor. Though he is not charged, he remains under suspicion, and the ramifications are many, especially regarding his romance with the daughter of the deceased. Her mother, a proud Spanish woman, will not believe his innocence, dooming their hopes to marry.

The main charm of the novel is its cast of characters: the one-armed schoolteacher famed for his strict discipline; the retired doctor who loves fishing more than anything and catches nothing; the giant wrestler who gets caught up in the supposed body-snatching; his crazy mother who recounts how many of her children ended up on the gallows; the wrestler's sweet daughter who gets a second chance in another home; the young doctor's headstrong sister; and, above all, the clergyman in Perlycross who wants, more than anything, to finish a restoration and improvement of the church but continues to face losses and setbacks. Truly, he is the central character, the main POV character, participating in all the events of church and town where he observes everything and counsels everyone.

It's not an overly saccharine view of the world we get here--there is plenty of evil and unkindness and prejudice and hard feelings--but there seems to be a balance found in the books pages. There's a feeling that this is about the best we can hope to do in the world; this is society at its most congenial, with folk of goodwill trying constantly to shore it up. Despite the cynical voices and chauvinism and poverty and even crime, the people get on pretty well, thank you. Nothing's perfected in Perlycross, and people are about as ignorant as you'd find anywhere, but there's a rhythm to life, a kind of settled pattern that works well enough and affords most people a decent chance at happiness. It's not idealized or sanitized, but it still has genuine attractions.

Ironically, the theme seems to be that all those norms and settled patterns are changing, and since it was set about 60 years earlier than it was written (published 1894) and is clearly modeled on the author's upbringing and hometown, I'm sure some of the glow I sensed is nostalgia for a better time. And I'm fine with that.

Hard to say why some novels become popular and get adapted to film or TV while others, perhaps just as deserving and entertaining, fade into obscurity. Maybe it's luck. Timing. I dunno. But this book is hard to find in hardcover and has never, as far as I can find, been adapted, but I'd happily watch a movie or tv series made from this book.

Recommended for readers of Eliot or Scott.

[Stephen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not a fast paced novel but I loved it.
Anyone who loves Cranford by Gaskell will love this.

[Trev Hill · Rating 4 out of 5]

A leisurely, pleasant read but the story is too slight, being padded out with descriptions, amusi g asides and subplots.

[Jenny Cooper · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fabulous read. Despite the long, flowery descriptions, the convoluted sentences and the use of the vernacular this is a wonderful book written by a master story teller.