A visit to the Cathedral Church of St Michael in Coventry.... by Adèle Geras

Back in early April,  Celia Rees, of this parish, Linda Newbery and I met in Coventry with the express purpose of visiting the Cathedral of St Michael.  We felt  quite triumphant when we got together because we'd been trying to arrange this outing since before the Pandemic.  Something always came up....and we felt at times as though we'd never make it, but at last we succeeded. 

 

I took the photograph below at a station, as I was on my way. I'm afraid I can no longer remember whether it's Nuneaton Station or Coventry and Google won't help me. Whatever....it was on the way to meet Linda and Celia that I saw it and it lifted my spirits in  a way that I felt boded well for the whole day. 

 After meeting up and a bit of mild rejoicing that here we were at last,  we walked along to the Cathedral. Celia, who knows Coventry well and has visited often, led the way and I was delighted to see the sky with its dramatic clouds, reflected on a the walls of a rather impressive modern building.

And of course, Coventry wouldn't be Coventry  without Lady Godiva.

But we were here to visit the Cathedral. I've known about it since childhood and can't understand why it's taken me 60 years to get to see it. I can remember when it was consecrated in 1962. I was still at Roedean School, and we knew all about it. Our Art teachers had kept us up to date as it was being constructed. Its progress mirrored my school life and there were frequent photographs in the press between 1956 and 1962. I was at school from 1955-1962.

The photograph above and the next three photographs that follow  show the ruins of what was left of the Cathedral after it was bombed in November, 1940.  The decision taken to leave the ruins as they were and raise a new Cathedral alongside them was an inspired one. What it means is: anyone who approaches the present day Cathedral, designed by Sir Basil Spence, has to walk through the past....it's a sobering experience and one that ensures that the events of 1940 can never be forgotten. 

But the emphasis everywhere here is on Forgiveness. There are many, many references to it  all over the Cathedral.  All the art is uplifting. Nothing is grim, nothing is forbidding.  Anyone who has visited this place will notice that I didn't photograph the Graham Sutherland tapestry and there's a reason for that. Ever since I first saw a reproduction of it as a schoolchild, I'm afraid I have not liked it at all. I apologise for this....I had hoped that when I saw it in real life, I might change my mind, but alas, I didn't. Readers who would like to see it can find it on Google easily. 

What I loved best in the Cathedral was the West Screen: a wall of glass etched with flying angels. It's known as the Screen of Saints and Angels. This is the work of John Hutton and it's completely beautiful. It truly does give the impression that angels are trapped in the glass. The three photos below give some impression but  you have to see the real thing to get the full effect.

The other highlight of the visit for me was seeing the  Baptistry Window. This photo doesn't do it justice. You need the light. Even postcards of the Window can't convey how beautiful it is. It was designed by John Piper and made by Patrick Reyntiens and there are 195 panes of glass in colours ranging from white to the deepest possible reds and blues. 

But the message of the Cathedral  is reconciliation. Below is the Charred Cross. It's made from two of the medieval roof beams, found in the rubble of the Cathedral when it was bombed.  A Cathedral groundsman called Jock Forbes set up this sign of Christ's suffering instinctively. The beams were bound together and placed first in the Sanctuary of the Ruins. In 1978, it was brought to its present site, inside the Cathedral. The beams were first held in place with medieval roof nails. The original Cross of Nails has become a symbol for peace and reconciliation, recognised all over the world. 

While we were having lunch, we realised that we hadn't been to see the statue of St Michael's victory over the Devil, by Jacob Epstein. This has become the best - known artwork associated with the Cathedral. To me, it says: even with forgiveness, and even with reconciliation, we must also acknowledge the work of the Devil and strive to overcome it. We didn't have the energy to go back so we will  have to visit again. I'm very happy to start planning a second trip.  And I was pleased that I'd found  a St Michael fridge magnet in the gift shop. 

The Comfort of Jeoffy - Joan Lennon

Lots of us remember where we were when the moon landing happened. Or 9/11. Or some other event of historical impact. But there are moments of personal history that are also pins in the map. One of those, for me, was the first time I discovered For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry, part of Jubilate Agno by Kit Smart (1722-1771). It was late at night, in a student bedsit in Toronto, and I was in the throes of one of the many sadnesses youth is prey to (most likely brought on by falling in love, hopelessly, yet again). And this poem was sweetly, superbly, warmly comforting. Even when I found out it was partly written in St Luke's Hospital for Lunatics where Smart was incarcerated, that it wasn't even published until 1939, and that the poet died in debtors' prison, it didn't matter.  It made me smile the way that unattainable boyfriend, whichever one he was, never would have.  And it still does.

Give yourself a moment to read it, especially if it's been a while -

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For is this done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having considered God and himself he will consider his neighbor.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary. 
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him, and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defense is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest. 
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion. 
For he is of the Lord’s poor, and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually--Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better. 
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can sit up with gravity, which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick, which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection. 
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Icneumon rat, very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the electrical fire is the spiritual substance which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, though he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

(from www.poets.org)

I've since discovered Benjamin Britten's Rejoice in the Lamb (1943) which includes part of the Jeoffry fragment.  Here is Miranda Colchester's performance -

I love what the Australian youth choir Gondwana Singers make of the work - well worth a listen -

Below is a page from the manuscript -

(wiki commons)

Do you remember where you were when a voice from the past first spoke comfortingly to you?  Was it maybe even this poem?

Joan Lennon's website.

Joan Lennon's blog.

Walking Mountain.

Joyce Grenfell's Lost Song by Janie Hampton

Benjamin Britten, Joyce Grenfell, Peter Pears at The Red House, June 1967

In 1947 the British composer Benjamin Britten and his partner, the singer Peter Pears, fulfilled their dream when they started the Aldeburgh Music Festival, in Suffolk. Aldeburgh is a pretty fishing town on the East coast of England, unchanged since its hey-day in the early 19th century. At first concerts and lectures were performed in local churches and village halls. The British writer and entertainer Joyce Grenfell (1910-79) and her devoted husband Reggie went every June for the music, the people and the bird watching. Joyce liked all types of music, as long as it was good: Bach, Beethoven, Britten, Gershwin and Rogers. ‘I would rather go to a concert than the theatre, cinema or an exhibition,’ she wrote. In 1966 she wrote to her friend the writer Virginia Graham: ‘All the usuals here, such as Lady Dashwood, in modern clothes and assisted brunette hair-do. June is a magic month in Suffolk & the drive over to Orford in a faint summer haze with long blue shadows was breathtaking. Ditches full of Queen Anne’s lace, wild roses, elder flower in full cream, and a nightingale sang in the church yard, as we were going in! Such production!
‘Lovely day ended with an accolade from Ben: “Will I do a concert here next year for the new concert hall and the 20th festival?” “Yes of course Ben,” I say. At once, sitting in the parish church hearing but I fear not listening to, lovely early Byrd, I started panicking about new material for the event.’
‘My Dear Ben,’ she wrote shortly after, ‘I feel truly honoured to be asked to be part of the best festival in the world. It is the compliment I am more proud of than anything that has ever happened to me. I mean this. Your music past and present - and future – makes me feel as if I had been taken into space. I always feel music, such as Beethoven’s late quartets, is already there from the beginning. With love Joyce. P.S. Please thank Peter, too, for his singing in Curlew River - oh and in the Schumann!’

Joyce Grenfell, circa 1945.

Joyce Grenfell was an unusual choice for this rather intellectual concert series. But Britten must have known that her comedy show would subsidise the more esoteric offerings. Also in that year's programme were the Vienna Boys’ choir, The Castaway by Lennox Berkeley, a new production of Britten’s The Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Plomer reading poetry, a talk on Anglo-Saxon Ship-Burials, and ended with Purcell’s The Fairy Queen. Three events each day gave everyone time to enjoy each performance and the place, without having to rush. Joyce wrote two new monologues: about an intense American music student called Marty Winderhauer, and a new Shirley’s Girlfriend with her whistling from behind a pulpit. She and her pianist and composer William Blezard also wrote a song in praise of Britten. ‘I have never toiled, polished, worked on anything as I have on this ditty,’ she wrote. ‘I was praying that he would like it.’
In case Britten didn’t like it, Joyce and Blezard performed the song for Britten on the morning of the concert at The Red House where Britten lived with Peter Pears, just outside Aldeburgh. The song is one of Joyce Grenfell's most sophisticated - a recitative of puns set to Blezard's  lively jazz accompaniment.
'How benevolent is the setting
Suffolk winds benignly blow
Benefitting all who came here
And to concerts go oh-oh-oh
Seats benumb on Parish church benches
But the benefited ear recognises benediction
In the wonders it can hear
Bene, bene molto bene.'
Joyce was amazed by Britten’s reaction. ‘I was quite flummoxed,’ she wrote to Virginia Graham. ‘Ben ran to me and embraced me, weeping! He was very touched and moved. It was very dear and entirely unexpected.’
So fifty years ago, at the concert that night on 5 June 1967, in the Jubilee Hall, the song was rapturously received and the audience called out for an encore. But Joyce thought it was a ‘one occasion song’ and did not sing an encore, nor ever performed it again.
The next day Britten wrote to Joyce: ‘It was a joy to have you here, & we are grateful to you for the incomparably funny and wise evening you gave us - we were the honoured ones! Come back again, both of you, & do another such evening for us - ‘as near the bone’ as you like to make it. Love Ben.’ Joyce replied: ‘Dear Ben, Thank you for letting me be a small part of this 20th festival. There is something about the Aldeburgh Festival that makes one want to do far better than one has ever done before, anywhere else in the world. It is a challenge to keep up to the standard you & Peter give, that goes far beyond the line of duty!’
Back in London, Joyce and Blezard made a gramophone record and sent it to The Red House. Three years later, in 1970, Britten wrote: ‘I do hope this letter reaches you in a forgiving mood! Peter & I were hunting for an ancient record in a seldom used cupboard, & to our great surprise, then delight, & then horror, we found a record you’d sent us, away back in 1967, which neither of us had seen before. I can only imagine your handsome & delightful Tribute was ‘tidied away’. I somehow think you will forgive, for you are so grand a person.’
Joyce replied, ‘Of course I understand & of course I forgive! What’s more I can imagine the wave of horror you felt when you discovered the record and you have my deepest sympathy.’ And the record and the song were forgotten again.

Postcard from Joyce to Donald Swann, 1951

While I was researching the biography of Joyce Grenfell 15 years ago, I found Britten’s and Grenfell’s letters in separate archives. After I’d put copies of them together in chronological order, I started to look for the song Bene . But by then William Blezard had lost the manuscript; the Aldeburgh festival manager had just died; and the Britten-Pears archivist had never heard of it. Ten years later I tried again, and after some further searching at The Red House, the single gramophone record of the Bene song was found, mislabelled but still in perfect condition.
Not heard for nearly 40 years, it was broadcast for the first time on Joyce Grenfell at Aldeburgh Festival on BBC Radio 3 in 2005.
Joyce visited Aldeburgh Music Festival every year from 1962, until a few weeks before her death in 1979. Listening to a performance of an "advanced" piano piece, Grenfell composed her own obituary: 'She died from opening her mind too far'.

Click on this to hear the Bene song.
  

www.janiehampton.co.uk