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The Rosemary Tree
Michael Stone was once a famous author. That was before he went to prison. Now, just released, he needs to get his bearings and a new beginning. It was a gray day in early April when Michael stumbled wearily into the tiny English village. Weighed down by failure and despair, the town of Silverbridge seems too offer him a quiet, rural escape from the past. Even though his heart was torn by remorse and shame, he was home at last.
Kind, gentle vicar John Wentworth takes Michael under his wing, and introduces him to his family and friends. At the vicarage, John's inexplicably discontented wife Daphne brings up their daughters. Bedridden Harriet, John's former nanny, deals impatiently with a world to which she cannot actively participate. At the family home, Belmaray Manor, Great Aunt Maria is burdened by the worry of a failing estate. And at the grim little town school is fiery teacher Mary O'Hara, determined to foster change.
With Michaels' arrival at Belmaray, changes began to occur in lives that had not changed for so long: the proud, self-centered beauty he had once loved was surprised into forgiveness; the quixotic bumbling vicar discovered unsuspected strength lurking behind his shyness; a sick and lonely spinster was turned away from despair, and a lovely, high-spirited young woman found her heart's desire. A story of courage and community, set in the beautiful Devonshire countryside.
Kind, gentle vicar John Wentworth takes Michael under his wing, and introduces him to his family and friends. At the vicarage, John's inexplicably discontented wife Daphne brings up their daughters. Bedridden Harriet, John's former nanny, deals impatiently with a world to which she cannot actively participate. At the family home, Belmaray Manor, Great Aunt Maria is burdened by the worry of a failing estate. And at the grim little town school is fiery teacher Mary O'Hara, determined to foster change.
With Michaels' arrival at Belmaray, changes began to occur in lives that had not changed for so long: the proud, self-centered beauty he had once loved was surprised into forgiveness; the quixotic bumbling vicar discovered unsuspected strength lurking behind his shyness; a sick and lonely spinster was turned away from despair, and a lovely, high-spirited young woman found her heart's desire. A story of courage and community, set in the beautiful Devonshire countryside.
400 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1956
54 people are currently reading
1171 people want to read
About the author
Elizabeth Goudge
64 books893 followersElizabeth Goudge was an English author of novels, short stories and children's books.
Elizabeth de Beauchamp Goudge was born on 24 April 1900 in Wells, Somerset, in Tower House close by the cathedral in an area known as The Liberty, Her father, the Reverend Henry Leighton Goudge, taught in the cathedral school. Her mother was Miss Ida Collenette from the Channel Isles. Elizabeth was an only child. The family moved to Ely for a Canonry as Principal of the theological college. Later, when her father was made Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, they moved to Christ Church, Oxford.
She went to boarding school during WWI and later to Arts College, presumably at Reading College. She made a small living as teacher, and continued to live with her parents. During this time, she wrote a few plays, and was encouraged to write novels by a publisher. As her writing career took off, she began to travel to other nations. Unfortunately, she suffered from depression for much of her life. She had great empathy for people and a talent for finding the comic side of things, displayed to great effect in her writing.
Goudge's first book, The Fairies' Baby and Other Stories (1919), was a failure and it was several years before she authored Island Magic (1934), which is based on Channel Island stories, many of which she had learned from her mother, who was from Guernsey. After the death of her father, Goudge and her mother went to Devon, and eventually wound up living there in a small cottage. There, she wrote prolifically and was happy.
After the death of her mother, and at the wishes of Goudge's family who wished her to live closer to them, she found a companion who moved with her to Rose Cottage in Reading. She lived out her life there, and had many dogs in her life. Goudge loved dogs, and much preferred their company to that of humans. She continued to write until shortly before her death, when ill health, successive falls, and cataracts hindered her ability to write. She was much loved.
Goudge was awarded the Carnegie Medal for The Little White Horse (1946), the book which J. K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter stories, has said was her favorite as a child. The television mini-series Moonacre was based on The Little White Horse. Her Green Dolphin Country (1944) was made into a film (under its American title, Green Dolphin Street) which won the Academy Award for Special Effects in 1948.
A Diary of Prayer (1966) was one of Goudge's last works. She spent her last years in her cottage on Peppard Common, just outside Henley-on-Thames, where a blue plaque was unveiled in 2008.
Elizabeth de Beauchamp Goudge was born on 24 April 1900 in Wells, Somerset, in Tower House close by the cathedral in an area known as The Liberty, Her father, the Reverend Henry Leighton Goudge, taught in the cathedral school. Her mother was Miss Ida Collenette from the Channel Isles. Elizabeth was an only child. The family moved to Ely for a Canonry as Principal of the theological college. Later, when her father was made Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, they moved to Christ Church, Oxford.
She went to boarding school during WWI and later to Arts College, presumably at Reading College. She made a small living as teacher, and continued to live with her parents. During this time, she wrote a few plays, and was encouraged to write novels by a publisher. As her writing career took off, she began to travel to other nations. Unfortunately, she suffered from depression for much of her life. She had great empathy for people and a talent for finding the comic side of things, displayed to great effect in her writing.
Goudge's first book, The Fairies' Baby and Other Stories (1919), was a failure and it was several years before she authored Island Magic (1934), which is based on Channel Island stories, many of which she had learned from her mother, who was from Guernsey. After the death of her father, Goudge and her mother went to Devon, and eventually wound up living there in a small cottage. There, she wrote prolifically and was happy.
After the death of her mother, and at the wishes of Goudge's family who wished her to live closer to them, she found a companion who moved with her to Rose Cottage in Reading. She lived out her life there, and had many dogs in her life. Goudge loved dogs, and much preferred their company to that of humans. She continued to write until shortly before her death, when ill health, successive falls, and cataracts hindered her ability to write. She was much loved.
Goudge was awarded the Carnegie Medal for The Little White Horse (1946), the book which J. K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter stories, has said was her favorite as a child. The television mini-series Moonacre was based on The Little White Horse. Her Green Dolphin Country (1944) was made into a film (under its American title, Green Dolphin Street) which won the Academy Award for Special Effects in 1948.
A Diary of Prayer (1966) was one of Goudge's last works. She spent her last years in her cottage on Peppard Common, just outside Henley-on-Thames, where a blue plaque was unveiled in 2008.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 111 reviews
April 30, 2016
Too bad the cover of this book makes it look like a romance. It is a wonderful story of the healing of power of grace and kindness. Initially everyone in the story is terribly unhappy, but as several take the lead in returning good for evil, their lives are slowly transformed. This is one of Goudge's most Christian novels (other than The Dean's Watch) yet it offers no sappy answers to life's problems. If anything, it shows the high cost of loving and forgiving.
Beautifully written with many layers of meaning.
A favorite quote: "The way God squandered Himself had always hurt her and annoyed her too. The sky full of wings and only the shepherds awake. That golden voice speaking and only a few fishermen there to hear; and perhaps some of the words He spoke carried away on the wind or lost in the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. A thousand blossoms shimmering over the orchard, each a world of wonder all to itself, and then the whole thing blown away on a southwest gale as though the delicate little worlds were of no value at all. Then she would pull herself up. It was not for her to criticize the ways of Almighty God; if He liked to go to all that trouble over the snowflakes, millions and millions of them, their intricate patterns too small to be seen by human eyes, and melting as soon as made, that was His affair and not hers. All she could do about it was to catch in her window, and save from entire waste, as much of the squandered beauty as she could." (p. 133)
Beautifully written with many layers of meaning.
A favorite quote: "The way God squandered Himself had always hurt her and annoyed her too. The sky full of wings and only the shepherds awake. That golden voice speaking and only a few fishermen there to hear; and perhaps some of the words He spoke carried away on the wind or lost in the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. A thousand blossoms shimmering over the orchard, each a world of wonder all to itself, and then the whole thing blown away on a southwest gale as though the delicate little worlds were of no value at all. Then she would pull herself up. It was not for her to criticize the ways of Almighty God; if He liked to go to all that trouble over the snowflakes, millions and millions of them, their intricate patterns too small to be seen by human eyes, and melting as soon as made, that was His affair and not hers. All she could do about it was to catch in her window, and save from entire waste, as much of the squandered beauty as she could." (p. 133)
September 22, 2020
This was a beautiful, well written story, that I already can't wait to read again!!
I gave it only 4 stars, because there was a couple romantic parts in it, and a little bit of language that I didn't care for, but besides that, a wonderful book!!
"Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set."
I gave it only 4 stars, because there was a couple romantic parts in it, and a little bit of language that I didn't care for, but besides that, a wonderful book!!
"Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set."
April 6, 2024
(Goodreads updated the cover! Thank goodness!) This is a terrible cover. It makes it look like a sappy romance, but Elizabeth Goudge's books are never that. Threads of romance, yes. Sappy, no. I like a sappy romance myself, but Elizabeth Goudge's books are almost in their own class.
I'm reading a biography of her now called The World of Elizabeth Goudge. Her father was an Anglican priest and served in the cathedral towns of Wells and Ely before becoming a Professor of Theology at Oxford. Both Wells and Ely were communities with deep religious roots. Honestly, as an American, I am only beginning to have an inkling of how the hundreds and hundreds of years of religion in England shaped that nation, even down to the land and architecture. Elizabeth's novels are not only rich in the Protestant Anglicanism she was immersed in, they are also rich in the pre-Protestant Catholicism of the places she lived in. Plus I think Elizabeth herself was a remarkably sensitive, intuitive, and perceptive child and adult. The religious life of the places she lives in comes through her fiction so strongly! It's remarkable.
All that to say, her novels have such spiritual wisdom and insight. Every novel of hers has at its core the battle between good and evil, light and dark and how this battle plays out in the human heart. The Rosemary Tree is a particularly clear example of that and each character has a very unique struggle. Her characters are so wonderfully human in this book; they each have deep and lasting struggles, but also deep wells of strength and giftedness. I particularly liked John and his own feelings of inadequacy as a priest and yet how he often unconsciously, by his very bumbling, does the right thing to listen, to counsel, to console, to stir up. And yet I can understand why Daphne, his wife, finds him aggravating with his flightiness.
Elizabeth Goudge's stories are ones that invite re-readings. I knew as I read through this that I was only skimming the surface of its loveliness as a story. I think the best thing I can say about this novel is that it has a sacramental quality to it, like all of Elizabeth's novels. The means of grace are everywhere in the story, are so often ordinary things put to extraordinary use for the working out of a character's salvation. And because the novel itself is so imbued with sacramental theology, the novel itself becomes a means of grace that points us to Christ.
I'm reading a biography of her now called The World of Elizabeth Goudge. Her father was an Anglican priest and served in the cathedral towns of Wells and Ely before becoming a Professor of Theology at Oxford. Both Wells and Ely were communities with deep religious roots. Honestly, as an American, I am only beginning to have an inkling of how the hundreds and hundreds of years of religion in England shaped that nation, even down to the land and architecture. Elizabeth's novels are not only rich in the Protestant Anglicanism she was immersed in, they are also rich in the pre-Protestant Catholicism of the places she lived in. Plus I think Elizabeth herself was a remarkably sensitive, intuitive, and perceptive child and adult. The religious life of the places she lives in comes through her fiction so strongly! It's remarkable.
All that to say, her novels have such spiritual wisdom and insight. Every novel of hers has at its core the battle between good and evil, light and dark and how this battle plays out in the human heart. The Rosemary Tree is a particularly clear example of that and each character has a very unique struggle. Her characters are so wonderfully human in this book; they each have deep and lasting struggles, but also deep wells of strength and giftedness. I particularly liked John and his own feelings of inadequacy as a priest and yet how he often unconsciously, by his very bumbling, does the right thing to listen, to counsel, to console, to stir up. And yet I can understand why Daphne, his wife, finds him aggravating with his flightiness.
Elizabeth Goudge's stories are ones that invite re-readings. I knew as I read through this that I was only skimming the surface of its loveliness as a story. I think the best thing I can say about this novel is that it has a sacramental quality to it, like all of Elizabeth's novels. The means of grace are everywhere in the story, are so often ordinary things put to extraordinary use for the working out of a character's salvation. And because the novel itself is so imbued with sacramental theology, the novel itself becomes a means of grace that points us to Christ.
June 2, 2019
This book, set not long after the Second World War - but a world away, in the Devonshire village of Belmaray - has all of the Goudge keynotes. There is a beautiful old house, a large ensemble of interconnected characters and an intense sense of the natural world. It is spring, and the world is coming back into flourishing life. There is a garden that needs stewardship and tending - and in this book, even more than some of her others, I feel that Goudge is reaching for a connection between the original garden (of Eden) and the earthly English gardens so glorified (and romanticised) in her novels. I’m sure she believed that the act of gardening had its own healing powers, but then it also functions as a metaphor in her stories.
There is a spiritual dimension to all of Goudge’s books, and her Christian beliefs are like a golden thread woven throughout. Love and forgiveness are at the heart of this book, but also the idea that we are all connected. The unhappiness and pain of one person cannot help but touch others - and this idea is borne out through both the primary and more secondary characters. I find it interesting that she always features older characters (more usually women) who have hard-won wisdom, children who have an innate sensitivity and then the ‘muddled middle-aged’ whose crises make up the larger portion of the plot-line. Self-knowledge, the importance of looking at oneself with a clear eye, is also central to the plot.
The novel begins with an encounter between the local vicar (and heir to Belmaray estate) John and a stranger in their small community. Michael Stone has every appearance of being ‘down and out’ and comes to Belmaray with empty pockets and a tormented mind and heart. Although he appears to be unconnected to the other inhabitants of Belmaray, he shares a troubled past with one of them. Forgiveness, understanding, acceptance and love: he needs to both give and receive them.
Perhaps the plot is not as well-constructed nor the characters quite as compelling as in other of Goudge’s novels, but for readers with a taste for her particular blend of storytelling and emotional sincerity, this is a delightful and emotionally satisfying novel. 3.5 stars
There is a spiritual dimension to all of Goudge’s books, and her Christian beliefs are like a golden thread woven throughout. Love and forgiveness are at the heart of this book, but also the idea that we are all connected. The unhappiness and pain of one person cannot help but touch others - and this idea is borne out through both the primary and more secondary characters. I find it interesting that she always features older characters (more usually women) who have hard-won wisdom, children who have an innate sensitivity and then the ‘muddled middle-aged’ whose crises make up the larger portion of the plot-line. Self-knowledge, the importance of looking at oneself with a clear eye, is also central to the plot.
The novel begins with an encounter between the local vicar (and heir to Belmaray estate) John and a stranger in their small community. Michael Stone has every appearance of being ‘down and out’ and comes to Belmaray with empty pockets and a tormented mind and heart. Although he appears to be unconnected to the other inhabitants of Belmaray, he shares a troubled past with one of them. Forgiveness, understanding, acceptance and love: he needs to both give and receive them.
Perhaps the plot is not as well-constructed nor the characters quite as compelling as in other of Goudge’s novels, but for readers with a taste for her particular blend of storytelling and emotional sincerity, this is a delightful and emotionally satisfying novel. 3.5 stars
December 20, 2019
This was a very slow start for me-wasn't sure I was going to like it at all. But a third of the way in I began to sort everyone out and became very involved with the characters; really liked Harriet best of all. The story of redemption and forgiveness was woven throughout and I ended up totally enjoying the book!
January 9, 2019
Feb 2015
Another wonderful story from Elizabeth Goudge filled with spirituality, lovely prose, well-drawn characters, and wisdom. She never fails to pull me in, pull on my heart-strings, and make me think. A keeper to revisit.
Jan 2019
Elizabeth Goudge had an amazing gift of understanding the complexities of human nature and of the spiritual life hidden behind and within everyday events and decisions. On this second reading I'm in awe of her ability to write with such depth, sensitivity and insight. A beautiful book written by a truly extraordinary author! 5 stars, again.
Highly recommended.
Another wonderful story from Elizabeth Goudge filled with spirituality, lovely prose, well-drawn characters, and wisdom. She never fails to pull me in, pull on my heart-strings, and make me think. A keeper to revisit.
Jan 2019
Elizabeth Goudge had an amazing gift of understanding the complexities of human nature and of the spiritual life hidden behind and within everyday events and decisions. On this second reading I'm in awe of her ability to write with such depth, sensitivity and insight. A beautiful book written by a truly extraordinary author! 5 stars, again.
Highly recommended.
November 26, 2023
How does Goudge always know just what I need? Her books simply wash over me with grace, compassion, and beauty. Like a gentle lift of the chin she turns me toward what is lovely and en-courages me to do well by others. And I truly thought The Scent of Water could not be outdone. The two books are different, but both deeply invested in healing their characters (and me along the way).
The intertextuality in The Rosemary Tree was quite lovely. Don Quixote emerged as the top reference; there's a little girl known as Winkle because of a dear resemblance to Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle; poetry is cited in almost every chapter; The Secret Garden and Alice in Wonderland and George MacDonald and others trot alongside. In many ways The Rosemary Tree could be read as a grown-up retelling of The Secret Garden. Every character receives their grace except one who refuses it. I will be sitting with the hope of this story in my heart for some time.
I am interested to see some themes emerge after reading five books by Goudge. The obvious spiritual themes, of course, especially compassion and growth; nature, rootedness, the character of houses; and, surprising to me, theater and performance. Both A City of Bells and The Rosemary Tree concern playwrights, acting, and theater (in extremely different ways). A City of Bells explored theater as storytelling and as a means of connection, while The Rosemary Tree explores it as a means of deception. I am accustomed to writers with a known penchant for the theater using it in their work (Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, Noel Streatfeild) and Goudge was a playwright, though she turned from that to novels. Methinks it is time I begin my exploration of secondary literature concerning Goudge, even as I continue to plumb her works. I'm so glad I stuck with Goudge after not loving my first two attempts by her. And I think I would have different opinions of The Dean's Watch and Pilgrim's Inn/The Herb of Grace upon re-reading...
The intertextuality in The Rosemary Tree was quite lovely. Don Quixote emerged as the top reference; there's a little girl known as Winkle because of a dear resemblance to Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle; poetry is cited in almost every chapter; The Secret Garden and Alice in Wonderland and George MacDonald and others trot alongside. In many ways The Rosemary Tree could be read as a grown-up retelling of The Secret Garden. Every character receives their grace except one who refuses it. I will be sitting with the hope of this story in my heart for some time.
I am interested to see some themes emerge after reading five books by Goudge. The obvious spiritual themes, of course, especially compassion and growth; nature, rootedness, the character of houses; and, surprising to me, theater and performance. Both A City of Bells and The Rosemary Tree concern playwrights, acting, and theater (in extremely different ways). A City of Bells explored theater as storytelling and as a means of connection, while The Rosemary Tree explores it as a means of deception. I am accustomed to writers with a known penchant for the theater using it in their work (Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, Noel Streatfeild) and Goudge was a playwright, though she turned from that to novels. Methinks it is time I begin my exploration of secondary literature concerning Goudge, even as I continue to plumb her works. I'm so glad I stuck with Goudge after not loving my first two attempts by her. And I think I would have different opinions of The Dean's Watch and Pilgrim's Inn/The Herb of Grace upon re-reading...
April 24, 2016
Today is the anniversary of Elizabeth Goudge's birth.
I inherited a love of her writing from my mother. I remember her recommending a few authors when I progressed from the junior to the adult library, and others over the years since them; but now, as I look back, I think that it is her recommendation of Elizabeth Goudge that says much about the woman she was and is.
The two of them shared a faith; a love of home, family, and the world around them; a belief that lives could be changed for the better through compassion, understanding and friendship; an appreciation of literature and all of the wonderful things that can be found in books …..
All of these things are to be found in ‘The Rosemary Tree’.
It tells a story of the Wentworth family: John, Daphne and their three daughters: Pat, Margary and Winkle. John is vicar of Silverbridge, a small town set deep in a valley in Devon, and the family live in a vicarage with a lovely garden, together with Harriet, John’s formers nanny, who is bedridden but will have a home with them for life. Her room becomes a sanctuary for different members of the family, and she has the wisdom to advise and guide them when they are troubled.
John had inherited his family home, Belmaray Manor, but he chose to not live there and to leave it in the care of his Great Aunt Maria, who had lived there all her life. The property was a burden, the whole family lived in genteel poverty; Maria Wentworth knew that, she wanted to do something to change that, but she didn’t know what she could do.
She didn’t really approve of her nephew being a vicar, and she hadn’t approved of his marriage to his cousin Daphne. It was true that the marriage was not as happy as it might be. John had been scarred psychologically by the war and he was often vague and forgetful; that was frustrating for the capable Daphne, who always had a great deal to do, and who worried that she was not the right woman to play the role of vicar’s wife.
Elizabeth Goudge draws a lovely pictures of the family, their home and their loves. They are a happy family; but they aren’t as happy as they might be.
School is a problem for the three girls. They attend a very small private school in a town house with a big garden; my mother went to the same type of school, in a house that I pass quite often on the way to the library.
The school that Mrs Belling, the widow of a solicitor, presided over looked wonderful to parents but was anything but for the children. Mrs Belling could be charming but she was a spoilt selfish woman who put her own wishes ahead of the needs of her pupils. She wasn’t interested in them, in her two teaching staff or in what happened in her school at all.
The elder of those two teachers, Miss Giles, was an unhappy woman. She was plagued by headaches, she was aware that she was growing older and that her future, when the time came to retire, was horribly uncertain; she knew that she shouldn’t take her unhappiness out on her pupils, but she couldn’t help it, and their dislike of her made things even worse
It was fortunate the new, second teacher was younger and brighter. Mary O’Hara hated the school, hated what it was doing to her, but she cared about her pupils and their families. She couldn’t do much, because Miss Belling was her aunt, but she was sure that she could do something.
Meanwhile, Michael Stone, who has come to Devon to make a fresh start. He has been in prison and he is ashamed to go home and to face people he had known. When he sees the beauty of Silverbridge; and when John, quite instinctively, offers help and friendship, he believes that he has come to the right place. But he finds that finding a new home, a new place in the world, is not enough to shake off his demons. And he crosses paths with someone he had known and loved before the war.
This is a story full of the lovely details that Elizabeth Goudge did so well. Winkle escapes class whenever she can, to dream under the weeping willow in Mrs Belling’s garden; and her father has a similar relationship with an old apple tree in the vicarage garden. Miss Giles is profoundly moved by a simple kind gesture. Harriet appreciates watching gulls from her window. Michael is confounded by Miss Wentworth’s love of pigs, but he is captivated by the books in her library. And there are so many other things I could mention, but I’m in danger of spoiling the story for othhers.
Her understanding of her characters is so deep; her descriptions of them and of the world they live in are glorious.
‘The Rosemary Tree’ is a quiet, slow book, but it speaks profoundly. The spirituality threaded through it may feel old-fashioned or odd to some, but I think that Elizabeth Goudge is simply addressing the same concerns that might today be addressed in the language of psychology or social concern in a very different language.
I have to say that I don’t think this is her best book. It is a wonderfully engaging story but I couldn’t help seeing weaknesses; changes happen a little too quickly, some of them aren’t explained as well as they might have been, and there was a little too much contrivance.
I simply wish that this could have been a longer book, because I am sure that with a little more time and space Elizabeth Goudge could have done such wonderful justice to these characters, this story, this world.
I inherited a love of her writing from my mother. I remember her recommending a few authors when I progressed from the junior to the adult library, and others over the years since them; but now, as I look back, I think that it is her recommendation of Elizabeth Goudge that says much about the woman she was and is.
The two of them shared a faith; a love of home, family, and the world around them; a belief that lives could be changed for the better through compassion, understanding and friendship; an appreciation of literature and all of the wonderful things that can be found in books …..
All of these things are to be found in ‘The Rosemary Tree’.
It tells a story of the Wentworth family: John, Daphne and their three daughters: Pat, Margary and Winkle. John is vicar of Silverbridge, a small town set deep in a valley in Devon, and the family live in a vicarage with a lovely garden, together with Harriet, John’s formers nanny, who is bedridden but will have a home with them for life. Her room becomes a sanctuary for different members of the family, and she has the wisdom to advise and guide them when they are troubled.
John had inherited his family home, Belmaray Manor, but he chose to not live there and to leave it in the care of his Great Aunt Maria, who had lived there all her life. The property was a burden, the whole family lived in genteel poverty; Maria Wentworth knew that, she wanted to do something to change that, but she didn’t know what she could do.
She didn’t really approve of her nephew being a vicar, and she hadn’t approved of his marriage to his cousin Daphne. It was true that the marriage was not as happy as it might be. John had been scarred psychologically by the war and he was often vague and forgetful; that was frustrating for the capable Daphne, who always had a great deal to do, and who worried that she was not the right woman to play the role of vicar’s wife.
Elizabeth Goudge draws a lovely pictures of the family, their home and their loves. They are a happy family; but they aren’t as happy as they might be.
School is a problem for the three girls. They attend a very small private school in a town house with a big garden; my mother went to the same type of school, in a house that I pass quite often on the way to the library.
The school that Mrs Belling, the widow of a solicitor, presided over looked wonderful to parents but was anything but for the children. Mrs Belling could be charming but she was a spoilt selfish woman who put her own wishes ahead of the needs of her pupils. She wasn’t interested in them, in her two teaching staff or in what happened in her school at all.
The elder of those two teachers, Miss Giles, was an unhappy woman. She was plagued by headaches, she was aware that she was growing older and that her future, when the time came to retire, was horribly uncertain; she knew that she shouldn’t take her unhappiness out on her pupils, but she couldn’t help it, and their dislike of her made things even worse
It was fortunate the new, second teacher was younger and brighter. Mary O’Hara hated the school, hated what it was doing to her, but she cared about her pupils and their families. She couldn’t do much, because Miss Belling was her aunt, but she was sure that she could do something.
Meanwhile, Michael Stone, who has come to Devon to make a fresh start. He has been in prison and he is ashamed to go home and to face people he had known. When he sees the beauty of Silverbridge; and when John, quite instinctively, offers help and friendship, he believes that he has come to the right place. But he finds that finding a new home, a new place in the world, is not enough to shake off his demons. And he crosses paths with someone he had known and loved before the war.
This is a story full of the lovely details that Elizabeth Goudge did so well. Winkle escapes class whenever she can, to dream under the weeping willow in Mrs Belling’s garden; and her father has a similar relationship with an old apple tree in the vicarage garden. Miss Giles is profoundly moved by a simple kind gesture. Harriet appreciates watching gulls from her window. Michael is confounded by Miss Wentworth’s love of pigs, but he is captivated by the books in her library. And there are so many other things I could mention, but I’m in danger of spoiling the story for othhers.
Her understanding of her characters is so deep; her descriptions of them and of the world they live in are glorious.
‘The Rosemary Tree’ is a quiet, slow book, but it speaks profoundly. The spirituality threaded through it may feel old-fashioned or odd to some, but I think that Elizabeth Goudge is simply addressing the same concerns that might today be addressed in the language of psychology or social concern in a very different language.
I have to say that I don’t think this is her best book. It is a wonderfully engaging story but I couldn’t help seeing weaknesses; changes happen a little too quickly, some of them aren’t explained as well as they might have been, and there was a little too much contrivance.
I simply wish that this could have been a longer book, because I am sure that with a little more time and space Elizabeth Goudge could have done such wonderful justice to these characters, this story, this world.
April 29, 2010
Elizabeth Goudge is an author who can always raise me up from whatever slough of despond I get my self into. After reading the dark novels I love, I go to her to restore my balance and faith in mankind. She never lets me down. She wrote over twenty novels in her lifetime, most of which are now out of print though any library with a good fiction selection carries her books.
The Rosemary Tree is a story about people trying to deal with the greatly changed post WWII world. The central family is comprised of John Wentworth, a vicar, his wife and three daughters who live in the vicarage of a small English village along with Harriet, the nanny who raised John. Nearby in the manor house is John's aunt.
On a typically quiet day, formerly famous author Michael Stone wanders into town. He has a troubled past and in fact has just been released from prison. The vicar's wife is his former sweetheart, so complications of the heart arise. Goudge's books often include a wise woman. Harriet plays that role in this one. Somehow through love and understanding and Christian charity, Michael is rehabilitated as a human being and the vicar's family remains intact.
The characters are wonderfully drawn, the wit is acerbic, the natural life of the English countryside is as healing as the palatably rendered Christian philosophy which is Elizabeth Goudge's trademark. She can almost send me back into the church but actually what she does is remind me of the universal truths in any religion by which I try to live my life.
Finally there is five year old Winkle, one of her masterpieces of a child. This author never married or had children which may be why she has such a clear-eyed view of what it is like to be a child, to have that mixture of wonder and mischievousness that kids have when they haven't been too messed up by those rearing them. A thread of the supernatural runs through Goudge's writing and in The Rosemary Tree, Winkle daydreams back to her spiritual home universe.
The Rosemary Tree is a story about people trying to deal with the greatly changed post WWII world. The central family is comprised of John Wentworth, a vicar, his wife and three daughters who live in the vicarage of a small English village along with Harriet, the nanny who raised John. Nearby in the manor house is John's aunt.
On a typically quiet day, formerly famous author Michael Stone wanders into town. He has a troubled past and in fact has just been released from prison. The vicar's wife is his former sweetheart, so complications of the heart arise. Goudge's books often include a wise woman. Harriet plays that role in this one. Somehow through love and understanding and Christian charity, Michael is rehabilitated as a human being and the vicar's family remains intact.
The characters are wonderfully drawn, the wit is acerbic, the natural life of the English countryside is as healing as the palatably rendered Christian philosophy which is Elizabeth Goudge's trademark. She can almost send me back into the church but actually what she does is remind me of the universal truths in any religion by which I try to live my life.
Finally there is five year old Winkle, one of her masterpieces of a child. This author never married or had children which may be why she has such a clear-eyed view of what it is like to be a child, to have that mixture of wonder and mischievousness that kids have when they haven't been too messed up by those rearing them. A thread of the supernatural runs through Goudge's writing and in The Rosemary Tree, Winkle daydreams back to her spiritual home universe.
September 5, 2022
'A room takes the stamp of its owner as helplessly and surely as soft wax.'
Although ours is more of a rosemary pot and nothing as lavish as a tree, it's lovely and fragrant ☺️
I've just finished this next Elizabeth Goudge novel from my shelf. This one is a post-war village tale set in the 1950s and featuring many characters. They include Michael, a former bestselling author of horror stories who has served a jail term; John, the self-deprecating pastor and Daphne, his restless wife who hardly knows what she's seeking.
Goudge writes weirdly, and I mean that in the most complimentary way. She has introspection in the strangest places, info-dumps of backstory galore, head-hopping like rabbits and meditations that come across as gross overreactions. I doubt anybody would write like this anymore because it upsets too many literary conventions, aka sacred cows. Yet there's just something special about it 😮
Hers are sacramental, mystical sorts of novels and I'll keep reading them even though they're surely not everyone's cup of tea, or even mine in the wrong mood.
However, if you have a commonplace book to fill with quotes, her novels are just the thing to fill them thick and fast. I expected more thoughts to ponder and she didn't let me down.
Although ours is more of a rosemary pot and nothing as lavish as a tree, it's lovely and fragrant ☺️
I've just finished this next Elizabeth Goudge novel from my shelf. This one is a post-war village tale set in the 1950s and featuring many characters. They include Michael, a former bestselling author of horror stories who has served a jail term; John, the self-deprecating pastor and Daphne, his restless wife who hardly knows what she's seeking.
Goudge writes weirdly, and I mean that in the most complimentary way. She has introspection in the strangest places, info-dumps of backstory galore, head-hopping like rabbits and meditations that come across as gross overreactions. I doubt anybody would write like this anymore because it upsets too many literary conventions, aka sacred cows. Yet there's just something special about it 😮
Hers are sacramental, mystical sorts of novels and I'll keep reading them even though they're surely not everyone's cup of tea, or even mine in the wrong mood.
However, if you have a commonplace book to fill with quotes, her novels are just the thing to fill them thick and fast. I expected more thoughts to ponder and she didn't let me down.
April 29, 2024
2024: . It has been ten years since I last read this one, and my GR notes indicated that a mediocre Goudge is still a good read. The ensuing ten years have not changed this review. I did like the garden and literary imagery but still found it to be a slow, really slow, start and only ok once it got going.
Even a mediocre Elizabeth Goudge book is still a good read, just not a fabulous one. Like others have said, it started out fairly slowly and lurched a bit to the ending, but a nice story.
Even a mediocre Elizabeth Goudge book is still a good read, just not a fabulous one. Like others have said, it started out fairly slowly and lurched a bit to the ending, but a nice story.
April 12, 2021
This is the perfect March read, both for the setting and story. It's refreshing and calming to read. John, Daphne, Michael, and many others come together in a story that brings the past into the present and what that will mean for each character. I liked Michael's reaction in the end, that maybe he wouldn't be so against God. It's a book worth picking up, like any of Elizabeth Goudge's books.
April 25, 2017
The Rosemary Tree a family drama set in a Devonshire village in the 1950s. The focus is on the Wentworth family. John Wentworth is the vicar of Bellemaray. He is a good man, but he struggles to be a good priest and a good husband to his proud, critical wife and a good father to his three children, one of which is being bullied at school. When one day a stranger stumbles into the village he becomes a catalyst for change which leads to reconciliation and forgiveness.
This story was infused with Christian mysticism and reminded me in that sense of Susan Howatch’s Starbridge series, which I loved and which also revolves around Anglican clergy and their lives and loves. While The Rosemary Tree has obvious religious overtones, I think the message can also be interpreted as a humanist one and can be enjoyed by non-believers and believers alike. And there were some beautiful passages about the English countryside. I have never been in person, but Goudge’s writing transports the reader in this case.
This story was infused with Christian mysticism and reminded me in that sense of Susan Howatch’s Starbridge series, which I loved and which also revolves around Anglican clergy and their lives and loves. While The Rosemary Tree has obvious religious overtones, I think the message can also be interpreted as a humanist one and can be enjoyed by non-believers and believers alike. And there were some beautiful passages about the English countryside. I have never been in person, but Goudge’s writing transports the reader in this case.
June 20, 2024
Lovely. I wish there was a sequel. I want to read more about the Wentworth family.
October 17, 2023
Elizabeth Goudge is a favorite author of mine. This is my first time for this book and it is a gem. I love the way she portrays people and gets us into their heads. This story has a cast of very interesting characters and in true Gouge style, they make the changes needed to become better people by the end of the story. Thought provoking and satisfying.
June 21, 2023
This one ranks near the top for me in the world of Goudge. I may prefer The Dean's Watch a tiny bit, but this... I don't know. This was so good.
Goudge does such a marvelous job with characterization. No two characters are exactly alike. No one is totally perfect or irredeemably flawed--even those who remain unredeemed.
I loved John, of course, adored Harriet, and grew to respect and admire Daphne (which threw me!)
As always, Goudge makes you feel as if you are in Silverbridge and a part of its community. From the vicarage, to the manor house, to Farthing Square, you're living in the moment. And it's beautiful.
Goudge does such a marvelous job with characterization. No two characters are exactly alike. No one is totally perfect or irredeemably flawed--even those who remain unredeemed.
I loved John, of course, adored Harriet, and grew to respect and admire Daphne (which threw me!)
As always, Goudge makes you feel as if you are in Silverbridge and a part of its community. From the vicarage, to the manor house, to Farthing Square, you're living in the moment. And it's beautiful.
July 6, 2021
This was such a wonderful story about forgiveness of others and one's self. Like The Scent of Water, it displays the transcendent way in which the soul can rise above the darkness it has been dwelling in and reach a higher state of joy and beauty, if given the chance by others reaching out and showing kindness and Love.
September 17, 2009
This is my favorite of E. Goudge's, and I never tire of re-reading it. I find it beautiful, wonderfully written, and inspiring. Her insights into children and animals are unlike anyone else's. And so are her insights into the human mind, heart and soul.
January 18, 2025
1/2025 reread:
I was even more impressed and moved on this second reading. My thoughts and reactions are similar to the first time but are even deeper this time, and I wrote down more memorable quotes. I relate so much to John and realize that his very sense of failure helps him succeed in helping people, because it makes him humble and approachable.
I felt this time that Mary and Michael's romance was a bit rushed and forced. I also struggled to understand a lot of the dialogue between them and between Michael and John. I further felt sad that John's great aunt has to leave Belmaray, especially since the other characters had their happily ever afters. She does too but in a different way than the others. Rather than gaining something precious she lets go of a treasure.
I am astonished anew by Harriet's patience in suffering and the influence she wields from her bedroom.
***
For a while I was not sure what this story was about, but it all came together beautifully into a story of liberation, both physical and spiritual: from fear (Margery), from guilt and shame (Michael, John), from self-pity (Daphne), from literal prison and an oppressive school, from abuse (Baba), from one's own misery and unpleasantness (Miss Giles). This liberation mostly comes through forgiveness and compassion both from others and from self. It is fitting that the cover features a wrought iron gate with just a hint that it is opening. It is only Mrs. Bettle who is not freed from her lust for power. Her end is quite ghastly. She reminds me a lot of Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter, and Mrs. Bettle very well may have inspired the character since J.K. Rowling's favorite childhood book is Little White Horse. Both characters conceal malice beneath a mask of sweetness and placidity, but eventually the mask is torn away to reveal the ugliness underneath. Harriet's fruitful withdrawal contrasts with Mrs. Bettle's harmful one.
I relate most to Margery, who is extremely attached to her parents and sensitive to their troubles. She is also quiet and timid, yet she shows great bravery in choosing to endure Miss Giles and reach out in kindness to her. I greatly appreciate the reference of The Little Mermaid in connection to Margery. I secondly most relate to John, a man who feels that he is a hopeless bungler yet does everyone much good--except that I fear I truly am a bungler. This is the second book of Goudge's (after Scent of Water) that I have read with references to Don Quixote. John is like him in his zeal to do good to his fellow men, but things always seems to go awry (except that, of course, John is not quite such a mess as Don Q). Michael is rather like Don Q in the sense that he is a bit of an outcast.
I despised Daphne for most of the book, but I came to sympathize with her once I discovered her past. She, too, is relatable with her self-absorption. It is all too easy to dramatize and hold onto past hurts to the point that they prevent us from enjoying the present. Harriet, who despite reposing in one room wields much influence, shows her that she has made too much of her pain and needs to learn to forgive and laugh at herself.
Imagination as an escape is a recurring theme. The scene with Winkle taking refuge in the closet at school and imagining peace and comfort is particularly vivid and exquisite, as is the scene in which the family gathers in the drawing room to listen to Daphne read Hans Andersen. As usual, Goudge conveys such beauty in the details she includes. Birds are an important part of the narrative, symbolizing peace, freedom, faith.
My criticism is that Goudge switches perspectives rather too much. I am invited into some characters' inner worlds and become intrigued but then never return to them. After reading four of Goudge's adult books, I find this is her tendency. But I enjoyed this book very much and have barely covered all of the themes and characters. This is the last of Goudge's books that I own, and I will have a hard time waiting to buy more!
Memorable quotes:
2 Illness involved suffering almost as much from the tyranny of painful thoughts as from physical pain.
5 In the paradoxical nature of things if she could have believed them [could not face life without her] she would have been a much happier woman, but not the woman they could not do without.
7 That weakness in oneself which one thought pressed most heavily upon others to their harm was in reality a blessing to them, while on the occasions when one thought oneself doing great good, one was as likely as not doing great harm; if self-congratulation were present, sure to be doing harm.
9 His conviction that whatever he did he'd be sure to make a mess of it had a tendency to make him shrink from action.
10 Like the worst kind of wound it bled inwardly.
14 It was chiefly as the vehicle of love or the symbol of prayer that action was important.
15 It is difficult...for a human being to face the fact that he is really quite superfluous. He is always trying to find a loophole somewhere.
15 For the power of God all things are superfluous...it is also true that for the mercy of God nothing is.
24 "Human character is so full of surprises. Even those one knows best continually surprise one...And in the things one does sometimes, the thoughts one has, one surprises oneself most of all. Invariably unpleasantly."
26 One had to do something, no matter how futile.
29 In no country of concrete experience, only in some country that his soul had known...Michael out of chance phrases and flashes of beauty had always in old days been able to build for himself his country of escape.
33 To the selfish comfort comes from external things, while to the selfless consolation comes interiorly.
36 It was miraculous how such gay things could grow in the rock.
39 The amazing joy behind the curtain of material things.
44 It was the peace and privacy that she liked in these retreats. No one bothered her and she could escape to her country without fear of being seized and dragged back again before she had even had time to knock on the door...the mere flash of a bird's wing, a snowflake looking in at the window or the scent of a flower had been enough to send her back...Perhaps one day...Nothing would remain of her returns to the other place but a vague longing.
48 Once she had known a far more wonderful language than the earthly one, but she had forgotten it now, and heard only vague echoes of it in the song of the birds and the sound of the wind blowing...When her life out there was over she would come back here again, like a tired bird returning full circle to its nest.
54 She could not quite remember, the same sadness that came sometimes with the scent of violets on a cold spring evening, with birds' voices, with the sound of rain on a roof in a summer dawn, with a thousand little things that touched you and stabbed you and were gone. A great symphony or flaming sunset might fill you with intolerable longing, but it was the longing for something to come and had triumph in it. This sadness was the ache for something that seemed lost.
69 If it were possible to escape from lonely experience for a moment and stand back from the tree one would see the myriad bright worlds sparkling upon it. But only the greatest could do that. For all but the great their own experience was a prison house until the ending of the days.
73 John, so ashamed of the contemptible small battles in which his weakness daily involved him.
76 ...that strange movement of the spirit that can come when two strangers meet and know they are no longer strangers.
77 Perhaps the purpose of the sparrows...was just to remark loudly and with repetition that in spite of any appearance to the contrary everything is quite all right. If the repetition seemed a little monotonous at times that was one's own fault; in a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.
78 as one lived in a place certain things about one, the branches of a tree seen through one's window, certain aspects of the light, a church tower in the distance, or an old horse browsing in a green field, moved forward from the rest of one's surroundings and became the furniture of one's own private world.
81 ...sarcasm doesn't grow on the same stalk as humility.
"Someone you have known perhaps for years, perhaps for minutes, steps forward from the background and is suddenly inside with you...inside your own little world that you carry with you."
82 A mutual belief in prayer is almost the greatest bond between two human beings.
104 It was that moment of a spring evening when the birds sing with such a piercing sweetness that the hour is charmed.
144 Like all those who spend much of their time in one room she had come to have an almost personal love for her window...clouds like galleons crossing the face of the moon.
145 The longer she lived the more deeply aware did she become of profundities of meaning in everything about her.
...how lopsided are the gifts of God. Now why give a woman eyes to see and no words to tell of it?
147 She did not believe in forcing anything in having things out; things came out by themselves, with patience and good will.
148 The very glory of what he wanted to say seemed to get in the way of his saying it...He was like a man trying to catch the moonlight on the water with a fishing net.
155 Her green smock had shrunk and lost color in the wash and clung about her sadly, like a cloak of drying seaweed about a stranded mermaid.
169 It was like no earthly music that he had even heard, or ever would hear, though the loveliness of earth was in it.
172 Could you never do a thing and be done with it in this world? Could you never come to a new bit of road and not have the past running along behind the hedge on either side, mocking at you?
174 Harriet had received her sensitiveness as the alms of age that had refused to feed on self. If it were a doubtful blessing it was not the curse that absorption in self would have been. In the last resort there are only the two pains of redemption and damnation to choose from.
175 I needn't be asking You when the hairs on their heads are numbered. That's the queer thing about prayer. Men and women shut themselves up...telling You what You've known before they were born. Prayer would seem plain silly if You hadn't said to do it.
175 I'd rather have that taste of tears than this emptiness.
"You're like a painted picture when your pride's hurt...Like a hollow thing, empty of kindness."
179 "That pea...it's just like Michael. However many layers of oblivion I spread over him he always comes through."
180 ...upon rare occasions she woke up in the morning possessed by an absolute demon...She could feel him muscling within her now...
185 O'Hara's gentleness...had left her with an ache of longing for which there was not possibility of satisfaction, and had if possible increased the hopelessness.
189 "One's in love with life when one's young...One trusts it."
191 "Nothing was more inhibiting than fear, nothing more confusing to the judgment.
195 ...it was a vicious circle. The harder she fought her pain and sin the more tired she was...the more I'll and bad tempered she became.
198 A new sort of pang wrung her...as though a hand suddenly squeezed her heart.
201 "Oh, the joy of the world," she thought... "Joy, even in a drop of rain on a green stem."
210 One was very ready to give one's life for those one loved, even though one was not very nice to them always...Human nature was fundamentally odd.
214 All about her she was conscious only of a pure distillation of good will, but she could not reach it...her own longing for goodness, her deep intent of love...Until the death of self had come to pass the deep intent could not make contact with the good will that waited, longing as the heart longed to bring the seed to flower.
223 ...in the attempt to evade suffering, there was sin. Why should one evade suffering? Evasion was devoid of truth...to turn aside from one brother was to turn aside from all brethren.
226 Margery...had found that amidst the many complications of life silence was best.
232 She had achieved a certain pattern in her life and thoughts, forced it down upon her inner discontent and restlessness, and subconsciously knew that a changing pattern might mean a changing outlook...against her will her outlook was veering like a weathercock.
234 Illness was admirable training in the creative art of grateful acceptance...pain gladly accepted took wings, went somewhere and did something.
235 ...afraid to relax lest she collapse altogether, she had largely lost the power of wonder, and with it the power of looking at familiar things with fresh appreciation.
239 some people who don't realize what it is they are doing to others until they are paid back in their own coin. But those are not the worst. The worst are those whose unkindness is calculated.
240 She was one of those rare people who have ceased to revolve around themselves. That was her special wisdom, the "something" she had.
242 "It's only the immortal thing that a man can be judged on, that bit of himself that he makes as he does the best he can with what fate handed out to him.
247 "It's a poor sort of virtue that has no roots in love. It's why you do or don't do a thing that matters most to my mind."
249 Such a blow breaks a weak woman, twists a strong one.
253 "Is independence so bad for one? asked Daphne.
"Nothing worse," said Harriet. "It gives you a wonderful conceit of yourself."
The tale of the humiliation, never spoken of, had seemed a thing of nightmare proportions in the place where she had buried it, but brought out into the light it looked both petty and ridiculous.
255 it is when children start to question their happiness that they lose it and grow up.
256 The flowers about him...the rose tinted sky...were the faint reflection of a glory he had known and possessed still as seed in the darkness of the soul.
257 The trees, the flowers and the very earth were so etherealized by the quality of the light that they looked as though they might at any moment vanish, like mist drawn up by the sun, and John...lost all sense of heaviness...While they lasted such moments could make the whole drab stretch of painful years seem well worthwhile, leading to such freedom.
265 Shame could wrench just as fear did. Thinking how other men would have behaved in his place was the most searching form of humiliation that he knew.
280 With what bounty and withal with what humor did heaven answer prayer.
282 A room takes the stamp of its owner as helplessly and surely as soft wax.
284 Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set.
285 "I can believe every possible good of anyone possessed of the power of self-knowledge."
287 "Nothing is lost that is stamped upon memory...It is one of the things which is given back to be your heaven or hell."
291 Progress in evil was quick and easy...growth in goodness was so slow...so flat, so dull, and like the White Queen one had to run so fast to stay where one was, let alone progress.
300 Laughing at yourself gives you freedom...From hating yourself. One can be just as self-engrossed in self-hatred as self-love, and either way be as blind to the quality of those about you.
308 A close union with the earth seemed to involve one in union with a good deal more than the earth...Now he wondered if there was any conceivable situation in which one could say, it is the end. Was the word hopeless one that ever had any truth in it?
313 One could not move through life without a measure of outward assurance...but it needed a lot of practice before one could hold the thing steady outwardly while remaining inwardly aware that there was nothing to be assured about.
319 "Yet one must have these things. Even men like you and me who have no trust in ourselves. Without these desperate plunges we'd do nothing but gibber in a ditch."
321 The real comfort was to have one's sins and weaknesses not explained away but understood and shared...It can be as much by our weakness as by our virtue that we can serve each other.
342 Prayer is the greatest activity there is. It is directed not only to the praise of God but to the redemption of the soul of man.
346 You could not see someone in a dream, and then see them in the flesh, and not feel you were in some way vitally connected with them.
348 "There are times in life when sitting down and doing nothing can be a duty."
357 Strength...relative thing. A weak man, struggling with circumstances too hard for him, might put up a stronger fight in failure than the strong man in success. He might even be more worthy of respect and love.
360 Did rhythmic times of fresh growth help another...?
362 Some people you can see every day for years and never do more than pass the time of day as with a stranger, and others you can see just a few times from your window and it seems as though you were old friends.
363 "If you want a good thing badly enough you get it. Not overnight, maybe. But you get it."
364 He began to understand what immense concentration of power there can be in a life withdrawn if discipline can keep pace with withdrawal. Without discipline withdrawal was a disintegration.
364 We're never alone. That's the mistake so many make. There'd be less fear if folk knew how little alone they are.
I was even more impressed and moved on this second reading. My thoughts and reactions are similar to the first time but are even deeper this time, and I wrote down more memorable quotes. I relate so much to John and realize that his very sense of failure helps him succeed in helping people, because it makes him humble and approachable.
I felt this time that Mary and Michael's romance was a bit rushed and forced. I also struggled to understand a lot of the dialogue between them and between Michael and John. I further felt sad that John's great aunt has to leave Belmaray, especially since the other characters had their happily ever afters. She does too but in a different way than the others. Rather than gaining something precious she lets go of a treasure.
I am astonished anew by Harriet's patience in suffering and the influence she wields from her bedroom.
***
For a while I was not sure what this story was about, but it all came together beautifully into a story of liberation, both physical and spiritual: from fear (Margery), from guilt and shame (Michael, John), from self-pity (Daphne), from literal prison and an oppressive school, from abuse (Baba), from one's own misery and unpleasantness (Miss Giles). This liberation mostly comes through forgiveness and compassion both from others and from self. It is fitting that the cover features a wrought iron gate with just a hint that it is opening. It is only Mrs. Bettle who is not freed from her lust for power. Her end is quite ghastly. She reminds me a lot of Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter, and Mrs. Bettle very well may have inspired the character since J.K. Rowling's favorite childhood book is Little White Horse. Both characters conceal malice beneath a mask of sweetness and placidity, but eventually the mask is torn away to reveal the ugliness underneath. Harriet's fruitful withdrawal contrasts with Mrs. Bettle's harmful one.
I relate most to Margery, who is extremely attached to her parents and sensitive to their troubles. She is also quiet and timid, yet she shows great bravery in choosing to endure Miss Giles and reach out in kindness to her. I greatly appreciate the reference of The Little Mermaid in connection to Margery. I secondly most relate to John, a man who feels that he is a hopeless bungler yet does everyone much good--except that I fear I truly am a bungler. This is the second book of Goudge's (after Scent of Water) that I have read with references to Don Quixote. John is like him in his zeal to do good to his fellow men, but things always seems to go awry (except that, of course, John is not quite such a mess as Don Q). Michael is rather like Don Q in the sense that he is a bit of an outcast.
I despised Daphne for most of the book, but I came to sympathize with her once I discovered her past. She, too, is relatable with her self-absorption. It is all too easy to dramatize and hold onto past hurts to the point that they prevent us from enjoying the present. Harriet, who despite reposing in one room wields much influence, shows her that she has made too much of her pain and needs to learn to forgive and laugh at herself.
Imagination as an escape is a recurring theme. The scene with Winkle taking refuge in the closet at school and imagining peace and comfort is particularly vivid and exquisite, as is the scene in which the family gathers in the drawing room to listen to Daphne read Hans Andersen. As usual, Goudge conveys such beauty in the details she includes. Birds are an important part of the narrative, symbolizing peace, freedom, faith.
My criticism is that Goudge switches perspectives rather too much. I am invited into some characters' inner worlds and become intrigued but then never return to them. After reading four of Goudge's adult books, I find this is her tendency. But I enjoyed this book very much and have barely covered all of the themes and characters. This is the last of Goudge's books that I own, and I will have a hard time waiting to buy more!
Memorable quotes:
2 Illness involved suffering almost as much from the tyranny of painful thoughts as from physical pain.
5 In the paradoxical nature of things if she could have believed them [could not face life without her] she would have been a much happier woman, but not the woman they could not do without.
7 That weakness in oneself which one thought pressed most heavily upon others to their harm was in reality a blessing to them, while on the occasions when one thought oneself doing great good, one was as likely as not doing great harm; if self-congratulation were present, sure to be doing harm.
9 His conviction that whatever he did he'd be sure to make a mess of it had a tendency to make him shrink from action.
10 Like the worst kind of wound it bled inwardly.
14 It was chiefly as the vehicle of love or the symbol of prayer that action was important.
15 It is difficult...for a human being to face the fact that he is really quite superfluous. He is always trying to find a loophole somewhere.
15 For the power of God all things are superfluous...it is also true that for the mercy of God nothing is.
24 "Human character is so full of surprises. Even those one knows best continually surprise one...And in the things one does sometimes, the thoughts one has, one surprises oneself most of all. Invariably unpleasantly."
26 One had to do something, no matter how futile.
29 In no country of concrete experience, only in some country that his soul had known...Michael out of chance phrases and flashes of beauty had always in old days been able to build for himself his country of escape.
33 To the selfish comfort comes from external things, while to the selfless consolation comes interiorly.
36 It was miraculous how such gay things could grow in the rock.
39 The amazing joy behind the curtain of material things.
44 It was the peace and privacy that she liked in these retreats. No one bothered her and she could escape to her country without fear of being seized and dragged back again before she had even had time to knock on the door...the mere flash of a bird's wing, a snowflake looking in at the window or the scent of a flower had been enough to send her back...Perhaps one day...Nothing would remain of her returns to the other place but a vague longing.
48 Once she had known a far more wonderful language than the earthly one, but she had forgotten it now, and heard only vague echoes of it in the song of the birds and the sound of the wind blowing...When her life out there was over she would come back here again, like a tired bird returning full circle to its nest.
54 She could not quite remember, the same sadness that came sometimes with the scent of violets on a cold spring evening, with birds' voices, with the sound of rain on a roof in a summer dawn, with a thousand little things that touched you and stabbed you and were gone. A great symphony or flaming sunset might fill you with intolerable longing, but it was the longing for something to come and had triumph in it. This sadness was the ache for something that seemed lost.
69 If it were possible to escape from lonely experience for a moment and stand back from the tree one would see the myriad bright worlds sparkling upon it. But only the greatest could do that. For all but the great their own experience was a prison house until the ending of the days.
73 John, so ashamed of the contemptible small battles in which his weakness daily involved him.
76 ...that strange movement of the spirit that can come when two strangers meet and know they are no longer strangers.
77 Perhaps the purpose of the sparrows...was just to remark loudly and with repetition that in spite of any appearance to the contrary everything is quite all right. If the repetition seemed a little monotonous at times that was one's own fault; in a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.
78 as one lived in a place certain things about one, the branches of a tree seen through one's window, certain aspects of the light, a church tower in the distance, or an old horse browsing in a green field, moved forward from the rest of one's surroundings and became the furniture of one's own private world.
81 ...sarcasm doesn't grow on the same stalk as humility.
"Someone you have known perhaps for years, perhaps for minutes, steps forward from the background and is suddenly inside with you...inside your own little world that you carry with you."
82 A mutual belief in prayer is almost the greatest bond between two human beings.
104 It was that moment of a spring evening when the birds sing with such a piercing sweetness that the hour is charmed.
144 Like all those who spend much of their time in one room she had come to have an almost personal love for her window...clouds like galleons crossing the face of the moon.
145 The longer she lived the more deeply aware did she become of profundities of meaning in everything about her.
...how lopsided are the gifts of God. Now why give a woman eyes to see and no words to tell of it?
147 She did not believe in forcing anything in having things out; things came out by themselves, with patience and good will.
148 The very glory of what he wanted to say seemed to get in the way of his saying it...He was like a man trying to catch the moonlight on the water with a fishing net.
155 Her green smock had shrunk and lost color in the wash and clung about her sadly, like a cloak of drying seaweed about a stranded mermaid.
169 It was like no earthly music that he had even heard, or ever would hear, though the loveliness of earth was in it.
172 Could you never do a thing and be done with it in this world? Could you never come to a new bit of road and not have the past running along behind the hedge on either side, mocking at you?
174 Harriet had received her sensitiveness as the alms of age that had refused to feed on self. If it were a doubtful blessing it was not the curse that absorption in self would have been. In the last resort there are only the two pains of redemption and damnation to choose from.
175 I needn't be asking You when the hairs on their heads are numbered. That's the queer thing about prayer. Men and women shut themselves up...telling You what You've known before they were born. Prayer would seem plain silly if You hadn't said to do it.
175 I'd rather have that taste of tears than this emptiness.
"You're like a painted picture when your pride's hurt...Like a hollow thing, empty of kindness."
179 "That pea...it's just like Michael. However many layers of oblivion I spread over him he always comes through."
180 ...upon rare occasions she woke up in the morning possessed by an absolute demon...She could feel him muscling within her now...
185 O'Hara's gentleness...had left her with an ache of longing for which there was not possibility of satisfaction, and had if possible increased the hopelessness.
189 "One's in love with life when one's young...One trusts it."
191 "Nothing was more inhibiting than fear, nothing more confusing to the judgment.
195 ...it was a vicious circle. The harder she fought her pain and sin the more tired she was...the more I'll and bad tempered she became.
198 A new sort of pang wrung her...as though a hand suddenly squeezed her heart.
201 "Oh, the joy of the world," she thought... "Joy, even in a drop of rain on a green stem."
210 One was very ready to give one's life for those one loved, even though one was not very nice to them always...Human nature was fundamentally odd.
214 All about her she was conscious only of a pure distillation of good will, but she could not reach it...her own longing for goodness, her deep intent of love...Until the death of self had come to pass the deep intent could not make contact with the good will that waited, longing as the heart longed to bring the seed to flower.
223 ...in the attempt to evade suffering, there was sin. Why should one evade suffering? Evasion was devoid of truth...to turn aside from one brother was to turn aside from all brethren.
226 Margery...had found that amidst the many complications of life silence was best.
232 She had achieved a certain pattern in her life and thoughts, forced it down upon her inner discontent and restlessness, and subconsciously knew that a changing pattern might mean a changing outlook...against her will her outlook was veering like a weathercock.
234 Illness was admirable training in the creative art of grateful acceptance...pain gladly accepted took wings, went somewhere and did something.
235 ...afraid to relax lest she collapse altogether, she had largely lost the power of wonder, and with it the power of looking at familiar things with fresh appreciation.
239 some people who don't realize what it is they are doing to others until they are paid back in their own coin. But those are not the worst. The worst are those whose unkindness is calculated.
240 She was one of those rare people who have ceased to revolve around themselves. That was her special wisdom, the "something" she had.
242 "It's only the immortal thing that a man can be judged on, that bit of himself that he makes as he does the best he can with what fate handed out to him.
247 "It's a poor sort of virtue that has no roots in love. It's why you do or don't do a thing that matters most to my mind."
249 Such a blow breaks a weak woman, twists a strong one.
253 "Is independence so bad for one? asked Daphne.
"Nothing worse," said Harriet. "It gives you a wonderful conceit of yourself."
The tale of the humiliation, never spoken of, had seemed a thing of nightmare proportions in the place where she had buried it, but brought out into the light it looked both petty and ridiculous.
255 it is when children start to question their happiness that they lose it and grow up.
256 The flowers about him...the rose tinted sky...were the faint reflection of a glory he had known and possessed still as seed in the darkness of the soul.
257 The trees, the flowers and the very earth were so etherealized by the quality of the light that they looked as though they might at any moment vanish, like mist drawn up by the sun, and John...lost all sense of heaviness...While they lasted such moments could make the whole drab stretch of painful years seem well worthwhile, leading to such freedom.
265 Shame could wrench just as fear did. Thinking how other men would have behaved in his place was the most searching form of humiliation that he knew.
280 With what bounty and withal with what humor did heaven answer prayer.
282 A room takes the stamp of its owner as helplessly and surely as soft wax.
284 Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set.
285 "I can believe every possible good of anyone possessed of the power of self-knowledge."
287 "Nothing is lost that is stamped upon memory...It is one of the things which is given back to be your heaven or hell."
291 Progress in evil was quick and easy...growth in goodness was so slow...so flat, so dull, and like the White Queen one had to run so fast to stay where one was, let alone progress.
300 Laughing at yourself gives you freedom...From hating yourself. One can be just as self-engrossed in self-hatred as self-love, and either way be as blind to the quality of those about you.
308 A close union with the earth seemed to involve one in union with a good deal more than the earth...Now he wondered if there was any conceivable situation in which one could say, it is the end. Was the word hopeless one that ever had any truth in it?
313 One could not move through life without a measure of outward assurance...but it needed a lot of practice before one could hold the thing steady outwardly while remaining inwardly aware that there was nothing to be assured about.
319 "Yet one must have these things. Even men like you and me who have no trust in ourselves. Without these desperate plunges we'd do nothing but gibber in a ditch."
321 The real comfort was to have one's sins and weaknesses not explained away but understood and shared...It can be as much by our weakness as by our virtue that we can serve each other.
342 Prayer is the greatest activity there is. It is directed not only to the praise of God but to the redemption of the soul of man.
346 You could not see someone in a dream, and then see them in the flesh, and not feel you were in some way vitally connected with them.
348 "There are times in life when sitting down and doing nothing can be a duty."
357 Strength...relative thing. A weak man, struggling with circumstances too hard for him, might put up a stronger fight in failure than the strong man in success. He might even be more worthy of respect and love.
360 Did rhythmic times of fresh growth help another...?
362 Some people you can see every day for years and never do more than pass the time of day as with a stranger, and others you can see just a few times from your window and it seems as though you were old friends.
363 "If you want a good thing badly enough you get it. Not overnight, maybe. But you get it."
364 He began to understand what immense concentration of power there can be in a life withdrawn if discipline can keep pace with withdrawal. Without discipline withdrawal was a disintegration.
364 We're never alone. That's the mistake so many make. There'd be less fear if folk knew how little alone they are.
September 9, 2023
Absolutely a new favorite!!!
October 9, 2020
I would have given this 5 stars if it had not had the language that it did. That, and one chapter detailing a story that could have been left out, are the only things I did not like about this book. It's not quite as powerful as The Dean's Watch, but it has a good storyline, and the characters were very dear. I was a little surprised with the outcome of Mrs. Belling
Over all, a very nice story.
Over all, a very nice story.
December 5, 2011
Just got my hands on this again, after reading it first from the library and then owning it and somehow loaning it out and never getting it back...
Goudge is one of my all-time favorite authors, and there are several of her books that I have read a half-dozen times or more (notably, "The Dean's Watch" and "Pilgrim's Inn"--aka "Herb of Grace"). This is one that has come to mind often in the past couple of years. Found a British first edition on Amazon, and I've been waiting to treat myself to this. A chapter a night at bedtime. I remember this as a profoundly wise book. I'll add to this review after I finish the book again.
Goudge is one of my all-time favorite authors, and there are several of her books that I have read a half-dozen times or more (notably, "The Dean's Watch" and "Pilgrim's Inn"--aka "Herb of Grace"). This is one that has come to mind often in the past couple of years. Found a British first edition on Amazon, and I've been waiting to treat myself to this. A chapter a night at bedtime. I remember this as a profoundly wise book. I'll add to this review after I finish the book again.
August 18, 2015
As I said before in my updates, this book was slow at first, but it grew gently irresistible over time. Goudge writes the kind of book you can meditate on for months. (Beadsman is now one of my favorite words- Look it up in an old dictionary.) I read this aloud to my mum, and it turns out that mothers are a perfect audience for this particular title, so if you have the means, do read it to yours too!
"I just live", Winkle said. "Living is dirty work, but I like it."
"I just live", Winkle said. "Living is dirty work, but I like it."
April 6, 2021
This was a lovely spring story! I read it at the perfect time of year, late March to early April. Full review to come.
June 26, 2024
Goudge out-Georges George MacDonald here. She might be his real heir.
August 17, 2022
I find it difficult to read other books after being immersed in Elizabeth Goudge. Reading her writing is like entering a room where a feast is laid out - first you satisfy your hunger, then you just browse slowly, taking bites here and there, allowing them to digest before reaching for another amazing tidbit. I find I read only a small amount at a time, allowing the rich prose to settle in my mind so that I am ready for more.
This was a lovely story, of the several people in a small English village and its attached manor house and vicarage. The characters are flawed but lovable, their separate lives drawn slowly together like fish in a net, until they become a real family and community.
And despite my education, which was excellent for its day (I hold bachelors and masters degrees in education) I find myself troubled that so many references to the literature and poetry of Goudge's day are completely unknown to me. I know the story of Don Quixote, of course, but have never read it for myself. The poems quoted in the book, as though they should be familiar to the reader, are certainly new to me. I sigh for the fact that the children of today are even worse off than me - losing their literary and historical heritage and not even aware of the riches that are passing away. Fortunately, here on Goodreads, I am finding fellow readers, many of them young, home-educated students, who are getting the best education possible and encouraging others to regain this heritage.
A few favorite quotes from the book:
“Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set.”
“A well-trained dog is like religion, it sets the deserving at their ease and is a terror to evildoers.”
“I don't believe in economizing on food,” said Miss Wentworth. “ You only end in a nursing home, which costs more a week than decent food. Nor do I hold with these modern breakfasts. A bit of hay in a soup plate, cereal they call it, and weak tea. No wonder they have religious doubts...Insufficient nourishment in the early morning leads to pessimism and doubts.”
This was a lovely story, of the several people in a small English village and its attached manor house and vicarage. The characters are flawed but lovable, their separate lives drawn slowly together like fish in a net, until they become a real family and community.
And despite my education, which was excellent for its day (I hold bachelors and masters degrees in education) I find myself troubled that so many references to the literature and poetry of Goudge's day are completely unknown to me. I know the story of Don Quixote, of course, but have never read it for myself. The poems quoted in the book, as though they should be familiar to the reader, are certainly new to me. I sigh for the fact that the children of today are even worse off than me - losing their literary and historical heritage and not even aware of the riches that are passing away. Fortunately, here on Goodreads, I am finding fellow readers, many of them young, home-educated students, who are getting the best education possible and encouraging others to regain this heritage.
A few favorite quotes from the book:
“Beauty awakened such intolerable longing that people often shut their eyes to it, unaware that the longing was the greatest treasure that they had, their very lifeline, uniting the country of their lost innocence with the heavenly country for which their sails were set.”
“A well-trained dog is like religion, it sets the deserving at their ease and is a terror to evildoers.”
“I don't believe in economizing on food,” said Miss Wentworth. “ You only end in a nursing home, which costs more a week than decent food. Nor do I hold with these modern breakfasts. A bit of hay in a soup plate, cereal they call it, and weak tea. No wonder they have religious doubts...Insufficient nourishment in the early morning leads to pessimism and doubts.”
December 8, 2021
Not her best, but still a very insightful portrait of humankind, culture, and reality.
Daphne married John on the rebound ten years ago, when her fiance, Michael, jilted her. They have three daughters who go to a school in the village, staffed by 4 women in various stages and degrees of bitterness. The school is only affordable because of John's increasingly dwindling funds from his entailed estate (and the land and home are becoming increasingly burdensome). He is also responsible for the support of his great-aunt and ailing nanny, Harriet. And into this mess stumbles a man straight from prison, afraid of his past, and afraid of his future.
There's something to be said for Tolstoy's immortal lines about unhappy families here. John loves Daphne, has loved Daphne since she was a child. His clueless gawkiness and thoughtless thoughtfulness only contribute to her feelings of guilt at not loving him. The headstrong, spoiled, and sensitive daughters and instructors all add to the mix that must be juggled.* And, for both the men and the women, the horrors of WWII still haven't healed.
I love how Goudge sees people, their core, their needs, their motivations. And she doesn't ever take the easy way out. Uncomfortable truths must be confronted, lies must be corrected, and that one solution that would solve all the problems at once... well... doesn't.
It's a slow starter, probably unhelped by the fact that I got a nasty cold halfway through. But, like all of her work, it was worth it. Also the religious touch that Goudge usually adds to her books was there, but not as effective as others. Though I couldn't help but like the Abbot.
*I'll say this for Goudge, she doesn't judge the kids. And the parents aren't out to make the sensitive one less sensitive or the headstrong one less opinionated. They just haven't quite figured out how to work with all three at once.
Daphne married John on the rebound ten years ago, when her fiance, Michael, jilted her. They have three daughters who go to a school in the village, staffed by 4 women in various stages and degrees of bitterness. The school is only affordable because of John's increasingly dwindling funds from his entailed estate (and the land and home are becoming increasingly burdensome). He is also responsible for the support of his great-aunt and ailing nanny, Harriet. And into this mess stumbles a man straight from prison, afraid of his past, and afraid of his future.
There's something to be said for Tolstoy's immortal lines about unhappy families here. John loves Daphne, has loved Daphne since she was a child. His clueless gawkiness and thoughtless thoughtfulness only contribute to her feelings of guilt at not loving him. The headstrong, spoiled, and sensitive daughters and instructors all add to the mix that must be juggled.* And, for both the men and the women, the horrors of WWII still haven't healed.
I love how Goudge sees people, their core, their needs, their motivations. And she doesn't ever take the easy way out. Uncomfortable truths must be confronted, lies must be corrected, and that one solution that would solve all the problems at once... well... doesn't.
It's a slow starter, probably unhelped by the fact that I got a nasty cold halfway through. But, like all of her work, it was worth it. Also the religious touch that Goudge usually adds to her books was there, but not as effective as others. Though I couldn't help but like the Abbot.
*I'll say this for Goudge, she doesn't judge the kids. And the parents aren't out to make the sensitive one less sensitive or the headstrong one less opinionated. They just haven't quite figured out how to work with all three at once.
March 9, 2024
Some books find us at the perfect timing and come alongside us to shed light and advice on our real lives, and this is one of them for me. The beauty articulated in the first five or six chapters woke me up from some numb, torpid state I've been wallowing in the last few weeks. And for that, I am grateful and dearly love this book as a result.
It's a lovely story, a little bearer of hope and joy through the happy recounting of little children, and gardens, and birds, and all the ways these things can speak to us.
Goudge's project is to teach us to be re-enchanted with creation and better reckon with our mistakes and weaknesses. Overall, I enjoyed the book a lot, though I thought the first half was better than the latter, I don't think Michael has yet earned the right to be such a hero, and I wish John's character came together more solidly. But oh well, it's not meant to be such a serious thing. :)
(It's got flavours of LM Montgomery for grown-ups, with a dash of little women and the secret garden, and a feminine, domesticated version of That Hideous Strength, if anyone wants some terrible analogies for reference. :D )
It's a lovely story, a little bearer of hope and joy through the happy recounting of little children, and gardens, and birds, and all the ways these things can speak to us.
Goudge's project is to teach us to be re-enchanted with creation and better reckon with our mistakes and weaknesses. Overall, I enjoyed the book a lot, though I thought the first half was better than the latter, I don't think Michael has yet earned the right to be such a hero, and I wish John's character came together more solidly. But oh well, it's not meant to be such a serious thing. :)
(It's got flavours of LM Montgomery for grown-ups, with a dash of little women and the secret garden, and a feminine, domesticated version of That Hideous Strength, if anyone wants some terrible analogies for reference. :D )
November 22, 2025
Very similar to the Eliot family trilogy (the story follows one family, alternating perspectives of each person) only in miniature! I love her themes of healing, restoration and personal growth and change 🤗❤️
June 11, 2018
Not one of her most memorable, but there were some lovely bits as always. Felt a little draggy most of the time though. It seems that most Goudge stories without magic are a bit of struggle for me to get through, especially these 'modern' ones.
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