Bemused Muse

This collection contains poems never hitherto published which are all linked by their connection to the Company of Crimson. Lord Brocket was one of the original members of the Company which was founded in 1897 as a group of friends bound together by an interest in the paranormal. It is now known that the Company subsequently became involved with many mysterious happenings, although the full details of these have never been fully disclosed. It is not my purpose here to dwell on the doings of the Company, although some understanding of the context in which they were written can help appreciate the events and characters mentioned. Sir Reginald Cranbury's admirable "Discussion on The Company of Crimson" (May, 1921), provides an excellent account of the nature of the Company and their escapades, including Brocket's own involvement.

During his lifetime, Brocket was loathe to discuss Company of Crimson matters with those who were not themselves members. However, it was his wish that these poems should be published posthumously in the form they are set out here. These poems in general relate to activities or events with which members of the Company were involved, although there are also some strange inclusions such as the children's poem "Gingerbread House" which has no identifiable link with the Company. Sadly missing, from the sake of prosperity, are what I believe to have been Brocket's finest poems, written during the spring of 1898. These were a serious of moving and dramatic poems full of fantastical other-worldly imagery. They were written while he was under the influence of a substance, presumably of a narcotic nature, which he referred to only as "FB".

It was searching for more FB that took him to Singapore where he briefly became addicted to opium. His friends feared that, like Coleridge, opium would destroy his life not just inspire his poetry, so they had him abducted from an opium den, and brought back to England. He managed to overcome his addiction, but sadly destroyed almost all the poetry from this episode in his life. He kept only one: "Bemused muse through hazed haze". Although his addiction was broken, he saw himself increasingly as the Company of Crimson's "bemused muse" as they became embroiled in increasingly dangerous and bizarre events which he never fully understood.

I was privileged that he briefly visited me over Easter 1898 before his trip to Singapore, and declaimed to me much of his poetry which is now lost. The greatest of these was "Golden Boy", by far the most powerful and inspiring epic poem I have ever heard. That in turn inspired one of my own sonnets, though it is but a pale reflection of the original. I offer it here in memory of the bemused muse:

I see you all bedecked in bows of rain,
New showers of rain against new-risen suns,
New tears against new light of shining joy.
My youth, equipped to go, turns back again,
Throws down its heavy pack of years and runs
Back to the golden house a golden boy.

Lord Alfred Douglas

The ghostly whispers seemed to be
'Twixt cavalier and proud lady
"Remember, remember" was his plea
"Keep this coin and think of me".

The cavalier had rode away
As roundheads to the castle came
He left his lover dressed in grey
Returning not to his dear dame.

She stayed and never left that place
Waiting for him by strength of will
At the window we saw her face
Centuries on she haunts there still.

We rushed upstairs to chase the sound
Our fear and shock were quite absurd
With trembling hearts we looked around
'Twas only Buffy that we heard!

At the centre of the court
A yew tree stands in lonely state
There it was the ghost we sought
Rushed in through the stony gate.

The hurrying figure ran away
Then searching round we looked and found
Dropped by the lady dressed in grey
A woman's glove upon the ground.

For answers to questions we came to Abcriss,
Seeking to question ancestors long dead,
Madame Pavlovski, a medium of fame,
Dramatically welcomed us to Evelyn's old home.

Eagerly we entered the small darkened room,
One by one making the circle complete,
Hand holding hand around the draped table
Bedecked with candles and a strange scary skull.

The atmosphere tense with anticipation,
Some of us sceptics, others keen to believe,
Breathing deeply as Madame Pavlovski commanded,
Awaiting a message from the dear departed.

A light flickered and strange music began,
Madame Pavlovski sunk into a trance,
In deep dusky tones she addressed Miss Athena,
Was this a spirit or the medium's mere trickery?

More spirits approached, or so the medium claimed,
Perhaps one was Aubrey who had recently died,
Knock once for No and twice for Yes,
A channel was opened to learn from the dead.

A message was tapped out by knocking the table,
Spelling out "Love" but what did it mean?
Was this the proof we so long had sought?
Or us hearing that which we wanted to hear?

The séance was ending, Madame Pavlovski done,
When contorted by spasms she lost all control,
Turning to Thomas she spoke out aloud,
Calling him Theodore as if she were Evelyn.

We soon learnt the séance was sadly a fake,
When beneath the table a contraption was found
Of strings and pulleys and a lever that knocks,
Controlled by the medium all too much of this world.

But the last instance felt different, perhaps that was real?
Maybe by Evelyn she was really possessed?
If so then the mystery becomes even more deep,
With questions unanswered we left Abcriss.

(Lord Arthur Brocket, 22 October 1898, Abcriss, Nottinghamshire)

There are strange tales about members of the Company of Crimson apparently travelling to what they described as fairyland in mysterious circumstances in 1899. Whether this was some joint story-telling exercise, or a group delusion arising from the use of FB or some other narcotic substance, or whether it was indeed based on some real fantastic journey will never now be known. Those who made the journey maintained that it was a real expedition during which they came across a strange house in a lake. The house was built on stilts in the shape of legs. Inscribed within were the following lines:

"Ask me nice in rhyming verse
My bounds to shore I'll gladly burst
And carry me both fast and slow
To anywhere you wish to go"

Brocket leapt at the challenge and composed doggerel poetry on the spur of the moment, resulting in the house literally walking around, while carrying members of the Company!

His "Ode to a Walking House" was apparently the actual words quickly composed on this occasion, each verse being declaimed as an instruction to the house to take the Company from place to place within the Faerie Realm. This perhaps accounts for the poem's simplistic unpolished nature, with repetitive forced rhymes and unusual scanning. Brocket claims he never subsequently modified the poem after initial composition.

Dear little house we wish your aid
Please take us from where you are bound
Cross the water to island glade
Where baby Benjamin is found.

Thank you dear house now please do wait
For us here a while and stay
Until we wish to go away
And go back to the portal gate.

Once more dear house on you we call
Please take us where we want to go
Unto the mighty waterfall
Where dwells the nymph of the rainbow.

Thank you dear house, again please wait
For us here a while and stay
Until we wish to go away
And ask to go unto the gate.

Last time dear house we wish to call
Upon your help to carry us all
Unto the gateway from this land
Then "farewell" we'll say from all our band.

Goodbye, farewell, dear little home
A mighty house you are indeed
Poems I'll write to fill a tome
Of how you carried us at speed
To this great gate, now please go slow
And put us down so we can go.

The Company of Crimson
Were exploring Belas Knapp,
Where at the long-barrow lurked
A man called Pollenbury.

We introduced ourselves
And asked him who he was;
With shifty glance he muttered,
"I'm Henry Pollenbury".

He attached himself to us,
As if to join our party,
Then tried to win trust,
The pushy Pollenbury.

Our suspicions were aroused,
As for days we had been followed;
Was he perhaps a spy,
This curious Pollenbury?

He acted as a gentleman,
But I was not convinced,
So determined to discover
Who was this Pollenbury.

I pretended to be friendly,
But laid a little trap,
To test if he were truthful,
Suspicious Pollenbury.

I gave him rope, he hanged himself,
He fell right in by telling lies,
With proof he was no gentleman,
I unmasked Pollenbury.

Corrupt cad, lying bounder,
Shameless, shifty, sly and shady,
Cunning cur, crooked rotter,
Impostor Pollenbury.

Deceitful rogue, dodgey rascal,
Dixon's henchman, spy for Crowley,
Devious villain, vicious scoundrel,
Perfidious Pollenbury!

(Lord Arthur Brocket, date unknown)