The Economic Revolution in Essex.
I knew Essex intimately in the doldrum days between the two world wars. It was then almost a derelict county, with farms and villages falling into rural slummery, and its natives angry and distrustful of the rest of the world. What a difference today, perceptible even on the shortest visit to old haunts there. I have combined such a jaunt with a reading of the latest volume of Essex tales by S. L. Bensusan, a collection called Late Harvest (Routledge). This shrewd observer of human and feathered life in East Anglia is now a veteran in his pursuit, and I doubt if there will ever be a more faithful recorder of a unique corner of England. He has the dialect nicely caught. You can hear it on the printed page. Says one old fellow from Grey Goose Green, " In this here world there's people who oughter help to purtect ye, but they ain't straight by th'good rights." He was, I fear, referring to the local police, on the occasion of a burglary in the neighbourhood. And the philospohic conclusion is that honest men goiter look arter theirselves best they can." It is worth quoting, not only to draw attention to this admirable recorder of the history of a small corner of the rural world, but also to point the character of the Essex folk, whose geographical position and whose history have combined to make them as pronounced in their regional personality as the Yorkshire caries.
Previous page
