Frances Chesterton (1869 – 1938) – British writer, poet, lyricist and playwright

Wife of G.K. Chesterton

Frances Blogg

Born Frances Alice Blogg on 28th June 1869, her parents were George William Blogg, a merchant, and his wife, Blanche, nee Keymer.  Frances was the eldest of their seven children, however I have only been able to find five of Frances’s siblings: 

George Alfred Knollys Blogg, b. 10 April 1871

Ethel Laura Blogg, b. 2 May 1872

Helen Colborne Blogg, b. 22 Nov 1873

Gertrude Colborne Blogg, b. 14 May 1875

Rachel Margaret Blogg, b. 1878, d. 1881 

Blanche Blogg had advanced ideas about education and politics and sent the children to one of the first kindergartens in London – the Ladies' School in Fitzroy Square, London - which was run by Rosalie and Minna Praetorius. Frances went on to Notting Hill High School before becoming a pupil/teacher at St. Stephen's College, an Anglican convent, for two years, graduating in 1891. She then became a tutor, and began teaching at the Sunday school in her local Anglican church in Bedford Park.  

Blanche set up a debating society and held meetings in the family home. That is how Frances met G.K. Chesterton. 

Frances Blogg and Gilbert Keith Chesterton were married on 28th June 1901 in St Mary Abbots, Kensington.  Frances was passionate about her husband’s writing, encouraged him and acted as his personal assistant. In 1909 the couple moved to Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire, where they lived until they died. 

Every Christmas, Frances would write a poem for their Christmas card, one of which - "How far is it to Bethlehem?" - was later published as the hymn "Is It Far To Bethlehem?"

Gilbert Keith and Frances Chesterton

Gilbert died on 14th June 1936, and Frances on 12th December 1938.

The following poem written by Frances was published in “Lest we Forget:  A War Anthology” edited by H.B. Elliott (Jarrolds, London 1915)

“Le Jour des Morts” by Frances Chesterton  (Tr of title - The Day of the Dead)

The day of the dead, the day of the dead,

Down on your knees and pray,

For the souls of the living, the souls of the dying

The souls that have passed away.

And the great bell tolls

For the treasure of souls

Delivered into his hand,

Gabriel, Michael, Uriel reap

Souls as a measure of sand,

Souls from the restless deep,

Souls from the blood-red land.

The day of the dead, the day of the dead,

Down on your knees and pray,

For the souls of the outcast, despised and rejected

The heroes and victors today.

And the great bell rings,

And the great bell swings, 

As death makes up the number

Of men’s lives as grains of sand.

From the decks their bodies cumber,

From the panting, shivering land,

From crash and shriek to slumber.

The day of the dead, the day of the dead,

Up on your feet and stand 

For the souls of the living, the fighting, the striving,

For the gun and the sword in hand.

And His Transfiguration 

Descends on a nation

And death is a little thing,

And lives as a grain of sand.

Michael, Gabriel, Uriel bring 

From the desolate blood-red land,

From the tall ships foundering

The day of the dead, the day of the dead,

Down on your knees and pray,

For the souls of the living, the souls of the dying,

The souls that have passed away.

From “Lest we Forget:  A War Anthology”, edited by H.B. Elliott (Jarrolds, London 1915) pp. 25 and 26.  This is available to read as a free download on Archive:https://archive.org/details/lestweforget00chesuoft/page/n29/mode/2up

NOTE: The Day of the Dead is traditionally celebrated annually on 1st and 2nd November, although other days, such as 31st October or 6th November, may be included depending on the locality.