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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #63288 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63288)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of William Morris, by John Drinkwater
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: William Morris
- A Critical Study
-
-Author: John Drinkwater
-
-Release Date: September 24, 2020 [EBook #63288]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM MORRIS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Al Haines
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-WILLIAM MORRIS
-
-
-
- _UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME:_
-
- J. M. SYNGE
- By P. P. Howe
-
- HENRIK IBSEN
- By R. Ellis Roberts
-
- THOMAS HARDY
- By Lascelles Abercrombie
-
- GEORGE GISSING
- By Frank Swinnerton
-
- THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK
- By A. Martin Freeman
-
- ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
- By Edward Thomas
-
-
-
-
-[Frontispiece: William Morris. from a photograph by Frederick
-Hollyer.]
-
-
-
-
- WILLIAM MORRIS
-
- A CRITICAL STUDY
-
- BY
-
- JOHN DRINKWATER
-
-
-
- LONDON
- MARTIN SECKER
- NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET
- ADELPHI
- MCMXII
-
-
-
-
- _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
-
- POEMS OF MEN AND HOURS, 1911
- COPHETUA. A Play in One Act, 1911
- POEMS OF LOVE AND EARTH, 1912
- ETC.
-
-
-
-
- TO
- ERNEST NEWMAN
- _Who Loves the Arts
- With a Just and Fine Impatience_
-
-
-
-
-NOTE
-
-A few paragraphs in this book are reprinted, by permission of Messrs.
-George Routledge and Sons, Ltd., from introductions written for The
-Muses' Library; others, by permission of the Editor, from articles
-contributed to _The Nation_.
-
-My thanks are due to William Morris's Trustees for permission to use
-such quotations from his works as I wished, and to Miss May Morris
-for her generous assistance in this and other matters. My
-indebtedness to Mr. Mackail I have acknowledged in more than one
-place in the body of this volume, but I should like here to emphasize
-my appreciation of the service that he has done to all who reverence
-Morris and his work.
-
-I would also thank my friend, Mr. Oliver W. F. Lodge, for the many
-delightful hours that I have spent with him in talking of a poet whom
-we both love. What understanding I may have of Morris has been
-deepened and quickened by his enthusiasm and fine judgment. No
-thanks that I might offer to another friend could be in any way
-adequate; in inscribing this book to him I can but make slight
-acknowledgment of one of those whole-hearted services that stand for
-so much in the craft of letters.
-
-J. D.
-
-_Birmingham_, 1912.
-
-
-
-
- CONTENTS
-
- INTRODUCTORY
- EARLY POEMS AND PROSE
- INTERLUDE
- NARRATIVE POEMS
- LOVE IS ENOUGH AND SIGURD THE VOLSUNG
- TRANSLATIONS AND SOCIALISM
- PROSE ROMANCES AND POEMS BY THE WAY
- CONCLUSION
-
-
-
-
-I
-
-INTRODUCTORY
-
-To the isolation, the loneliness, of the poet, criticism is apt to
-give far less than due heed. At a time when literature is daily
-becoming more responsive to the new spirit which we call Democracy,
-such a complaint may seem to be reactionary in temper, and some
-explanation may be made by way of defence against any such possible
-charge. Nothing is more disastrous to a poet than that he should
-dissociate his art from the life of the world; until the conflict and
-destiny of humanity have become the subjects of his contemplation he
-cannot hope to bring to his creation that vitality which alone makes
-for permanence. Ultimately it is the great normal life of mankind
-which is immortal, and the perishable things are the grotesque, the
-odd, the experiences which are incomplete because they are unrelated
-to the general experience. But whilst the insistence that the poet
-should be swiftly responsive to the life about him is perfectly just,
-indeed inevitable in any right understanding of art, it is equally
-necessary to remember always that the poet's vision itself is turned
-upon life from places remote and untrodden, that the seasons of his
-contemplation are seasons of seclusion. To say that the poet is the
-product of his age is to be deceived by one of the most dangerous of
-critical half-truths. The poet is the product of his own temperament
-and personality, or he is nothing. Clearly, if the age in which the
-poet lived were in any wide sense his creator, the poets of an age
-would bear unmistakable tokens of their relationship. The perfectly
-obvious fact that they do not do so is, however, no obstacle to the
-criticism that wishes to satisfy its own primary assumption that with
-the age does remain this supreme function of making its own poets.
-Recognizing that its theory demands the presence of such affinity in
-its support, this criticism proceeds, in violation of the most direct
-evidence, to discover the necessary likeness. Perhaps the crowning
-achievement of this ineptitude is the constant coupling of the names
-of Tennyson and Browning. If ever two poets were wholly unrelated to
-each other in their reading of life and spiritual temper, they were
-the poets of "In Memoriam" and "Pippa Passes," of "Crossing the Bar"
-and "Prospice." But the accident of their being contemporaries is
-taken as sufficient reason for endless comparisons and complacent
-decisions as to their relative greatness, leading nowhere and
-establishing nothing. And parallel cases are common enough: Gray and
-Collins, Shelley and Keats, and, in daily practice, any one poet and
-any other whose books happen to be on the table at the same moment.
-
-The relation of the age to its poets is that of sunlight to a
-landscape. The trees and the rivers, the hills and the plains, all
-turn to the same source for the power whereby to express themselves,
-the same light is upon them all. But no one thinks in consequence of
-comparing Snowdon with the Thames. Without his age a poet cannot
-speak, but the thing that his age empowers him to utter is that which
-is within him. His song, if it be a song of worth, is a
-manifestation apart from the age, from everything whatever save his
-own spiritual distinction. In this sense the poet must always be
-isolated and lonely, and it is solely by divining the secrets of this
-isolation and loneliness, not concerning itself unduly with
-circumstantial kinship in expression that may exist between one poet
-and another, that criticism may justify itself. Occasionally a poet
-may arise whose faculty has a vital sympathy with another's, whose
-vision may accord in some measure with that of one perhaps centuries
-dead. Then enquiry as to the affinity is likely to be fruitful. The
-poet is not so much a reflection of his age as a commentary upon it
-and its attitude towards life. Twenty poets may be writing together,
-the age reacting upon their creative energy in every instance, but it
-is more than probable that the essential significance of their work
-will be alike in no two cases. So that in writing about Morris my
-purpose is chiefly to discover what are the aim and ultimate
-achievement of his artistic activity; in a smaller degree to
-ascertain what was his relation to his age; to compare him with his
-contemporary creators scarcely at all, believing such comparisons to
-be misguided in intention and negative in result.
-
-To attempt a new definition of poetry is a task sufficiently
-uninviting. And yet it is well to be clear in one's own mind, or as
-clear as possible, as to what one is writing about. If I try to set
-down, with as little vagueness as may be, the nature of my conception
-of the meaning of poetry, I do so in all humility, not in any way
-suggesting that here at last the eternal riddle has been solved, but
-merely to define the point from which I start, the standard which I
-have in mind. It is certain that each man of intelligence and fine
-feeling will make his own demand as to the values of poetry. A man's
-worship is directed at last by his needs, and it is as vain in art as
-in life to seek to impose a love where there is no corresponding
-receptivity, assuming, of course a quick intelligence and not one
-stupefied. A man spiritually asleep may be awakened, but once awake
-his adventures must be chiefly controlled by himself. Fitzgerald was
-a man of taste and understanding, but he did not care for Homer and
-found _The Life and Death of Jason_ 'no go.' Arnold was as
-passionate a man as might be in his allegiance to art,
-notwithstanding the somewhat false report bestowed upon him by his
-so-called classicism, and we know his estimate of Shelley and of
-Byron, whilst Swinburne would have denounced him with equal vigour
-for his indifference on the one hand and his commendation on the
-other. These differences do not, of course, diminish the value of
-critical opinion, they merely point to the futility of attempting to
-find any common touchstone, and counsel a wise humility and
-tolerance. That Arnold and Swinburne demanded different things in
-poetry reflects to the discredit of neither. All men who care for
-the arts are pledged to refuse the false, the mean, and the vulgar at
-all seasons; but they do well to remain silent in the presence of
-things which they know to be none of these yet find themselves unable
-to love. Without this love criticism is ineffectual. Macaulay in
-writing of Montgomery merely antedated the ruin of a reputation by a
-decade or two; in writing of Milton he helped in the discipline of
-our understanding. Morris is for me among the supremely important
-poets, but I know that to some men to whose powers of perception I
-bow he is not of such vital significance. I do not dispute their
-conclusions; I can only endeavour to explain and justify my own.
-
-Poetry seems to me to be the announcement of spiritual discovery.
-Experience might be substituted for discovery, for every experience
-which is vital and personal is, in effect, a discovery. The
-discovery need not be at all new to mankind; it is, indeed,
-inevitable that it will not be so. Nor need it be new to the poet
-himself. To every man spiritually alive the coming of spring is an
-experience recurrent yet always vital, always a discovery. Nearly
-every new poet writes well about the spring, just as every new poet
-writes well about love. So powerful is the creative impulse begotten
-by these experiences that it impels many men to attempt utterance
-without any adequate powers, and so the common gibes find their
-justification. But it is absurd to pronounce against the creative
-impulse itself whilst condemning the inefficient expression. The bad
-love poetry of the world is excluded from my definition not because
-it is unconcerned with discovery, but because it is not, in any full
-sense, an announcement. The articulation is not clear. And by
-reason of this defect a great deal of other writing which has behind
-it a perfectly genuine impulse is excluded also. On the other hand,
-much verse which has a good deal of perfection in form perishes, is,
-indeed, never alive, because its reason has been something other than
-spiritual discovery. But whenever these things are found together,
-the discovery and the announcement, then is poetry born, and at no
-other time. The magnitude of the poet's achievement depends on the
-range of his discovery and the completeness of his announcement. If
-I add that verse seems to me to be the only fitting form for poetry,
-I do so with full knowledge that weighty evidence and valuable
-opinion are against me. Nevertheless the term prose-poem seems to be
-an abomination. The poet in creation, that is to say the poet in the
-act of announcing spiritual discovery, will find his utterance
-assuming a rhythmical pattern. The pattern may be quite irregular
-and flowing, but unless it is discernible the impulse is incomplete
-in its effect. To think of the music of verse as merely an arbitrary
-adornment of expression is wholly to misunderstand its value. It is
-an integral part of expression in its highest manifestation. It is
-in itself expression. There is an exaltation at the moment of
-discovery which is apart from the discovery itself, a buoyancy as of
-flight. The significance of this exaltation is indefinable, having
-in it something of divinity. To the words of poetry it is given to
-announce the discovery; to the music to embody and in some inadequate
-measure translate the ecstasy which pervades the discovery. The
-poet's madness is happily not a myth; for to be mad is to be ecstatic.
-
-A poet who in rather more than a generation had produced a small
-volume of exquisite work complained that a poet's greatness was too
-often measured by the bulk of his activity. Examination of the
-nature of the poet's function shows the complaint to be groundless.
-A man may indeed be immortal by virtue of a stanza if not of a single
-line. Edward Dyer's report could ill bear the loss of 'My mind to me
-a kingdom is.' And Martin Tupper passes with his interminable
-jingles safely into oblivion. But if a man is truly possessed of the
-poetic fire, we must accept as no negligible measure of his greatness
-not only the force with which it burns, but also the frequency. Dr.
-Johnson came nearer to the truth than is generally admitted when he
-said that the poet who had to wait for 'inspiration' was in a bad
-way. He was not altogether right, for in practice it is possible for
-the poet to lose his technical cunning for long periods, which really
-amounts to saying that there are times when the spiritual discovery
-is unaccompanied by the ecstatic exaltation. But he based his
-pronouncement on sound sense, as was his habit. What he meant was
-that a poet, before he could lay just claim to high rank, must so
-discipline himself to disentangle the significant from the
-insignificant in life as it presented itself to him day by day, that
-he should never be at a loss for something to say, that he should not
-have to wait for the event. Milton was not careless in his use of
-words, and when he said, 'I was confirmed in this opinion, that he
-who would not be frustrated of his hope to write well hereafter in
-laudable things ought himself to be a true poem ... not presuming to
-sing high praises of heroic men or famous cities, unless he have in
-himself the experience and practice of all that which is
-praiseworthy,' he revealed the secret of the poet's necessity with
-perfect precision. The greater and more vital the poet, the less
-will he look upon his poetry as a casual incident of his life, the
-more will it become for him the impassioned and refined expression of
-his life in its entirety. Many men turn from the claims of their
-daily life to art as a recreation. This is far better than having no
-concern with art at all, but it is at best but a compromise. In
-reading a great poet we feel that here is a man to whom art and life
-are coincident, inseparable. In other words, that he is a man
-vitally curious about life in all its essential aspects, just as
-another man will be curious about market prices or electrical
-development; and just as they must by nature give daily expression to
-their curiosity about those relatively trivial things, so must he by
-nature strive to give daily expression to his curiosity about that
-supremely important thing. And as their constant preoccupation with
-those ephemeral matters will from time to time bear fruit in the
-shape of some weighty decision as to a course of action or the
-evolution of some new design and its application, so will his
-constant preoccupation with the permanent manifestations of life from
-time to time bear fruit as a creation of art--as a poem.
-
-Throughout a life of phenomenal artistic energy, Morris never for a
-moment failed to realize this supreme requirement of the poet's
-being. He was pre-eminent in many activities, but it is upon his
-poetry that his reputation will ultimately depend, for in his poetry,
-inevitably, is found his clearest challenge to oblivion. Had he not
-written at all he would still have been a remarkable and memorable
-man, but having written much, and as poet, his claim as such must be
-considered before all others. And Morris's poetry is a permanent
-record of the man's temper, of his spiritual adventures and
-discoveries, not a desultory series of impressions imposed by
-external events, but the continuous manifestation of his reading of
-life. His conception of art, formed in his youth, as the expression
-of joy in living, as the immediate and necessary outcome of life
-itself wherever life was full, knew no change to the end. Art was
-this always to him, and it had no other value. Nothing made by man's
-hand or brain had any beauty in his eyes unless it expressed this
-intensity of life which went to its creation. The talk about art for
-art's sake would have been merely unintelligible to him, because the
-existence of art apart from life was inconceivable.
-
-William Morris was born at Walthamstow on the 24th of March, 1834.
-The external record of his life has been given finally by Mr. J. W.
-Mackail in his _Life_, a book which, besides being a storehouse upon
-which all writers on Morris must draw and remain thankful debtors, is
-certainly one of the most beautiful biographies in the language. The
-wisdom of childhood is sometimes supposed to lie in the child's
-attitude of unquestioning acceptance, but the truth is that it lies
-in a constant sense of adventure. The wisdom of the poet is as the
-child's in this; for both wake daily in the hope and expectancy of
-new revelations. Unquestioning acceptance and the stifling of
-curiosity are the last infirmities of foolish minds. Life ceases to
-be lovely when it ceases to be adventurous. Morris in his boyhood
-was rich in a full measure of this wisdom of childhood, and by a
-fortunate circumstance his earliest days were spent in surroundings
-that gave ample opportunity for the development of his nature. If he
-owed his creativeness to nothing but his own endowment, the colour
-and atmosphere with which his work came to be suffused were largely
-influenced by the memory of days spent among the hornbeam thickets of
-the Essex woodlands and the meadows of Woodford, on the fringe of
-Epping Forest, the Morris family moving to Woodford Hall when the
-poet was six years old. By this time he was, we hear, already 'deep
-in the Waverley novels,' and in this connection we have the authority
-of one of his sisters for a circumstance that is curiously prophetic
-of a quality that was to mark his life-work. 'We never remember his
-learning regularly to read.' This instinctive acquisition of
-knowledge was not the least remarkable of Morris's faculties. He
-seemed always to understand the things he loved without taking
-thought. In the practical application of his knowledge no labour was
-too great; when he wanted to re-establish the art of dyeing, he spent
-weeks working at the vats in Leek; when he was directing the
-Kelmscott Press, whole pages would be rejected for a scarcely visible
-flaw; when he wished to furnish his house he found little enough in
-the market to satisfy his conscience, and so became a manufacturer;
-when he was drawn to the stories of the North he worked unweariedly
-with an Icelandic scholar and made two pilgrimages--no light
-undertakings in those days--to the home of his heroes. Miss May
-Morris in one of her admirable introductions to the complete edition
-of her father's works, tells us that he once said, 'No man can draw
-armour properly unless he can draw a knight with his feet on the hob,
-toasting a herring on the point of his sword.' It is easy to
-understand that he never learnt to read, for learning by any
-laborious process was foreign to his nature; knowledge of the things
-that were of importance to him was in some obscure way born in him.
-He would spare no pains to shape his knowledge into a serviceable
-instrument, but the knowledge itself was inherent in him. He moved
-among the men of the Sagas, of Greek mythology and the old romances,
-as intimately as we ordinarily move among the people of the house.
-Many of his friends give independent testimony to the fact that he
-never seems to have learnt deliberately of these men; his knowledge
-of them grew as his knowledge of speech and the ways about him. In
-considering his work in detail, the value of this instinctive
-familiarity will be apparent; it brings a sense of reality into his
-stories as could nothing else. We are hardly ever given laboured
-details of environment or appearance--merely a few casual strokes of
-suggestion that, by their very assurance and implication of
-knowledge, both on the part of the poet and of his reader, carry
-conviction. For this reason we never feel ourselves to be in strange
-surroundings or listening to strange men, and it is this privilege of
-close association with the world of the poet's fashioning that
-enables us to realize how accessible is that larger and clearer life
-of which he sings.
-
-Throughout his life not only the beauty but the homeliness, the
-fellowship, of earth was a passion with him, and to the Woodford Hall
-days and the rambles over the downs and through Savernake, when a
-little later he was one of the earliest Marlborough boys, may be
-traced the beginnings of this strain in his temper. In a famous
-passage in his biography Mr. Mackail tells us how the boy, dressed in
-a suit of toy armour, used to ride through the park; how he and his
-brothers used to shoot red-wings and fieldfares in the winter
-holidays and roast them before a log fire we may be sure--for their
-supper; how he longed to shoot pigeons with a bow and arrow; how to
-the end of his life he carried with him recollections of stray sounds
-and sights and scents of those childhood days; how he would pore over
-the brasses and monuments that he discovered in the churches near to
-his home. It is doubtful whether anyone who has not spent some part
-of his early life in a countryside which has none of the striking
-beauties that make a landscape famous, that is, in the common phrase,
-uneventful, can quite realize the meaning of all this. In such
-surroundings a peculiar intimacy with the earth is born, a nearness
-to the change of season and the nature and moods of the country,
-which form a background of singular values in the whole of a man's
-later development. A man nurtured among the more majestic
-manifestations of natural beauty will, if he be a poet, in all
-probability translate his early impressions into single memorable
-passages, but the effect of environment such as that in which
-Morris's childhood was passed is of another kind. The whole of
-Morris's work is coloured and sweetened by a tenderness for earth
-which, while it does not fail to find at times direct expression of
-exquisite loveliness, is nevertheless a pervasive mood rather than a
-series of isolated impressions. It is this circumstance that came to
-give quite common words an unusual significance in his poetry. When
-he speaks of 'the half-ploughed field' or 'the blossomed fruit trees'
-or 'the quivering noontide haze' or 'the brown bird's tune' or 'the
-heavy-uddered cows,' or simply 'the meadows green,' the whole of his
-passionate earth-worship is thrown up with clear-cut intensity and
-his utterance takes on a value which is wholly unexplained by the
-mere words of his choice.
-
-At Marlborough the poet's independence of character was already
-shown. The school-games had no attraction for him. Birds'-nesting,
-excursions to outlying churches and ruins, explorations of any early
-remains of which he could discover the whereabouts, long walks
-accompanied by the improvisation of endless stories of knightly
-adventure, the reading of any books of romance, archæology and
-architecture that came to his hand--these were his chief occupations.
-Before he left the school, his father died, and the family again
-moved, this time to Water House at Walthamstow. Here again the boy
-found full store upon which to indulge his imaginative bent. A broad
-moat, a great paved hall, a wooded island, wide marshlands, all
-fitted well with the tendencies that had already asserted themselves.
-When he left Marlborough at the age of seventeen, there was nothing
-to show that he was to become a great creative artist, but there was
-everything to show the atmosphere in which his work would be
-conceived in such an event. After reading with a private tutor for a
-year, Morris went up to Oxford at the beginning of the Lent term in
-1853.
-
-Tennyson had established his reputation with the issue of the two
-volumes of "Poems" in 1842. Since then he had published "The
-Princess" in 1847, and "In Memoriam" in 1850, and was already
-generally acknowledged as a great new voice in poetry. Browning with
-"Pauline" in 1833, "Paracelsus" in 1835, "Strafford" in 1837, and the
-series of plays that followed, had proved his authenticity, but had
-not yet gained the general recognition that was to be brought a
-little nearer by the "Dramatic Lyrics" and "Dramatic Romances" of
-1842 and 1845, and "Christmas Eve and Easter Day" in 1850. "Men and
-Women" was not yet published. Clough and Arnold had lately printed
-their first books, and seven years were to pass before Swinburne's
-name was to appear on a title-page. Rossetti's "Blessed Damozel" had
-been printed in the Pre-Raphaelite magazine, "The Germ," but save for
-a few contributions to the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine his poetry
-was to wait until 1870 before being given to the public. In prose
-the influence of the teachings of Carlyle and Ruskin was dominating
-criticism and æsthetic thought throughout the country, whilst the
-religious unrest and scientific revaluation, that were to leave their
-witness to posterity in the work of men so far removed from each
-other in temper as Newman and Darwin, and Arnold and Clough, were
-forcing a full share of men's attention to the consideration of
-abstract ideas.
-
-To determine the exact measure of the influence that the varied
-expressions of an age's intellectual process exercises upon any
-single mind belonging to that age is difficult to the point of
-impossibility. Maeterlinck, in saying that the soul of the peasant
-would not be what it is to-day had Plato or Plotinus, of whom he has
-never heard, not lived, endorses the precise truth that Shelley
-uttered when he said that poets were the unacknowledged legislators
-of the world. The influence of one mind on another is one of the
-subtlest questions of psychology, and the attempt to trace with any
-precision the responsiveness of creative genius at all points to the
-mental movement about it is vain. It would be rash to say that the
-author of "The Origin of Species" had no influence on the author of
-_The Earthly Paradise_, as it certainly would be impossible to define
-what that influence was. Darwin and the Tractarians, the puzzled
-questionings of the sceptics and the conflicting voices of assertion
-and confutation, no doubt meant little enough as such to Morris when
-he went up to Oxford. But they were none the less manifestations of
-the age that shaped his power of expression, and in a negative and
-indirect way at least they had a share in his development. The
-limits of the influence of any commanding creative or speculative
-mind cannot be laid down. The most romantic poet writing to-day
-would be witless to assert that he was wholly uninfluenced by, say,
-Mr. Bernard Shaw or Mr. Balfour, for, whether he realizes the fact or
-not, these men form part of the intellectual atmosphere in which he
-is writing. It is a common charge against Morris that he alienated
-himself, as a poet, from the questions that were troubling his time,
-as though the poet's theme should undergo continual change with the
-generations. All experience is emphatic in its assertion of the
-folly of this attitude. Nothing is more dangerous to the poet than
-to be in too close contact with the immediate questions of the
-moment, for, broadly considered, the things of immediate importance
-are the unimportant things. Much of our finest creative energy
-to-day is being exhausted in the consideration of problems that are
-local and temporary, not fulfilling its creative function with proper
-completeness, being, rather, bravely destructive, an office
-honourable enough but not that of the poet's supreme distinction.
-Morris, from the moment of his earliest artistic consciousness, was
-perfectly clear as to this matter. He was not at any time deaf to
-the clamour that came from all sides, nor was he indifferent to it.
-But he found it partly incomprehensible, partly unlovely, and partly
-negative, and he turned away from it, not as in retreat from a thing
-that he feared, but in the search for the life which it was unable to
-offer. The challenge and counter-challenge of the prophets of the
-millennium and confusion worse confounded, the disputations of the
-two-and-seventy jarring sects were not outside the range of Morris's
-consciousness, but he was content at first to leave them to their own
-issues. The socialism that was to enter so largely into his later
-life was not the result of a sudden access of new feeling, but a
-further expression, in perfectly logical development, of the mental
-and spiritual outlook that was substantially unchanged from the
-first. The new expression, when it forced itself upon him, was,
-indeed, not unconnected with a negative and destructive programme,
-but it was in reality no more than an attempt to realize the world
-that he had created in his art, the world that contained for him the
-only possible life consistent with free beauty and joy. But, with
-whatever energy he threw himself into the new work when it came, he
-never for a moment allowed it to shake his artistic creed.
-
-Nothing is further from the truth than the common assertion that
-Morris in his art turned from a life of realities to a dream-world,
-if by a dream-world is meant, and I can apply no other meaning, a
-world intangible, unrealizable, and remote from practical
-considerations. We have seen that the earth was to Morris from
-boyhood in some sort a sacred thing. And the people of the earth
-were no less. His one overmastering passion was for a world wherein
-men and women lived in full responsiveness to the beauty of the
-earth, labouring with their hands and adventurous and capricious in
-spirit, finding joy in their work and in contact with each other, and
-rejecting all the things of civilization that were dulling and
-mechanical. To object that in a commercial civilization so
-superficially complex--the complexity is really a thing without the
-subtlety of humanity in it, relatively fixed and reducible to exact
-formulæ--this passion was in effect no more than a rather futile
-dream, might be reasonable if Morris himself had not wholly answered
-the objection in his work. He found people not only indifferent to
-the loveliness of earth, but destroying it on every hand; not only
-forgetting the joy of labour, but debasing it into a daily burden;
-measuring the value of all work not by the meaning of the work and
-the spiritual satisfaction that it brought but by the wage that it
-earned, and fettered in all their relations to each other by
-countless considerations imposed by external conditions that were not
-essential factors in humanity, but the whims of a social scheme that
-mastered men instead of being their servant. From the first he
-realized that out of such a life no supreme art could spring; the
-material that they offered was ugly and devitalized, and art can only
-accept for its service material beautiful and strong. The world as
-he found it was fettered and numbed, and he sought in his art to
-create a world free and exultant, one peopled by perfectly normal
-people whose sorrows were the sorrows of common experience and whose
-sins were the expression merely of the darker, but not diseased,
-passions of humanity. When active socialism became part of his work,
-his sole purpose was, in his own words, to make socialists, which
-meant, for Morris, to bring men to a sense of the possibility of the
-life of large simplicity that he had created as poet. His practice
-and experiments in handicraft and manufacturing process were all
-experiments of the same spirit; throughout his many-sided activities
-an extraordinary unity of intention can be clearly traced. Morris at
-the loom, or decorating a page, or riding his pony through the
-Icelandic fords, or proving colours in the vats, or moving among the
-haymakers in the Kelmscott meadows, was but one of the men with whom
-he peopled his stories. He wanted all men to attain to this same
-joyous energy, and the fierce denunciations and charges of his
-socialistic days were no more than another expression of this desire.
-
-At Oxford the good beginnings of Woodford Hall and Savernake were
-given every opportunity to develop. He found himself associated with
-men whose ideals and enthusiasms were as his own. He went into
-residence in the same term as Edward Burne-Jones, and quickly laid
-the foundations of a lifelong friendship of more than common loyalty.
-It is usual to speak regretfully of the growth of modern Oxford. The
-mediæval town has, indeed, surrounded itself with reaches of quite
-unlovely slums and suburbs giving just reason for the regret. But,
-as was said in reply to one who was deploring the vulgarities which
-have been carried into modern Venice, 'Exactly, but what else in the
-world is there like it?' Oxford has suffered a change, but in Oxford
-there are yet survivals scarcely to be found elsewhere in England.
-The quadrangles, the bye-streets that curl between the colleges and
-churches, the succession of spires and grey walls, still preserve
-unbroken a tradition that goes back to the days when men lived, or so
-Morris believed, as the men of whom he sang. And in 1853 the
-tradition, if not clearer, was less threatened by opposing interests
-than it is to-day. With the scholastic discipline, or lack of it, at
-Oxford in his time Morris had little or no concern, but he could have
-found no place more fitting in which to shape his imaginative powers.
-With Burne-Jones and others of his friends he spent many priceless
-hours determining all things in heaven and earth with the fine
-certainty of youth, reading mediæval chronicles and Thorpe's
-"Northern Mythology," exploring the enchanted worlds of the poets and
-stirred to new enthusiasms by the latest word of Ruskin or the
-newly-discovered revelation of some prophet of an older day.
-Architecture had already taken its place in his mind as one of the
-noblest of the expressions of man's exultation in his work, and the
-intention which he had at this time of entering the church was
-manifestly inspired rather by ecclesiastical art than by any doctrine
-or dogma. The long vacations of 1853 and 1854 he spent in visiting
-the churches of England and Northern France, and in making his first
-acquaintance with the work of Van Eyck and Memling and Dürer. In
-painting, as in the other arts, he looked already for the grave yet
-vigorous simplicity, and that sense of the profound seriousness of
-joy that were to be the essential characteristics of his own work.
-His love for mediævalism was neither accident nor the fruit of any
-refusal to face his own age. It was the logical outcome of this
-intense conviction that most of the men about him were exhausting
-their energies and deadening their faculties in the conduct of
-trivial and inessential things. In the records of the mediæval
-spirit, in its art, he found the temper which more clearly than any
-other was at once a warning and a corrective to this wastage. A year
-spent at Oxford in the company of men who shared his enthusiasms had
-sharpened his imagination and quickened his creative instinct. He
-was now ready for Malory and Chaucer and the revelation of Rossetti
-and the Pre-Raphaelites. With a perfectly defined ideal already
-developed in his consciousness, he was beginning to write. It only
-needed contact with these new influences to make his utterance
-certain and invest the ideal with artistic expression.
-
-When in 1855 he came of age, Morris found himself the possessor of an
-annual income of £900, the result of a fortunate business transaction
-made by his father a short time before he died. Burne-Jones had
-already announced, in a letter to a friend, his intention of forming
-a 'Brotherhood,' the purpose of which, shared by Morris among others,
-was, of course, nothing less than the regeneration of mankind. Sir
-Galahad was to be the patron of the order, the nature of which was to
-be a strange blending of social activity and monastic seclusion. The
-scheme in detail--if it ever reached so advanced a stage--passed into
-the splendid story of youthful enthusiasms, but its principal
-projectors never wavered in their loyalty to its spirit. To a man so
-fired, the possession of £900 a year was a responsibility not to be
-lightly considered. It left him free to choose his course, and it
-was an integral part of his faith that that course should be laid
-wholly in the service of his ideal. For a time his choice was
-uncertain; his original intention of entering the church led to a
-momentary idea of founding a monastery with his money. But the
-gradually widening influence of the adventurousness of art that was
-working in him made him less and less willing to commit himself to
-any irrevocable step. He was beginning to realize his powers; his
-friends, who were no dishonest critics, confirmed his own feeling
-that his earliest poems were signs of a remarkable creative faculty.
-But he was not yet certain as to the ways into which his art would
-lead him. Painting and architecture divided his allegiance with
-literature, and behind his consideration of all was the vague but
-unalterable determination to use his art in the service of mankind.
-His decision was wisely deferred until it should force itself upon
-him.
-
-The first practical step taken by the Brotherhood--the friends
-retained the original name whilst renouncing all their monastic
-intentions--was the foundation of "The Oxford and Cambridge
-Magazine." Chaucer had been discovered, and the group's somewhat
-austere asceticism had been sweetened by the charity of the poet to
-whom Morris was henceforth never to fail in discipleship. A copy of
-the Pre-Raphaelite "Germ" had also established Rossetti in the
-friends' worship, and they had seen some of his paintings, together
-with those of Millais and Holman Hunt and Madox Brown. In all these
-things Morris found the conception of life that he had already made
-his own, in beautiful and more or less complete expression. Twelve
-numbers of the magazine appeared, financed by Morris. Its aim was
-the expression of the Brotherhood's artistic creed and its loyalty to
-the essential idea of the identity of art with life. Rossetti was
-among its contributors. Of Morris's own work in the venture, his
-earliest poems and prose romances, something will be said in the next
-chapter.
-
-Before leaving Oxford Morris and Burne-Jones together definitely
-abandoned their idea of entering the church. The latter decided on
-the work to which his life was to be devoted, whilst Morris formally
-adopted architecture as a profession. Arrangements were made for him
-to enter G. E. Street's Oxford office, and after a second visit to
-France and its churches and passing his Final schools, he took up his
-new work at the beginning of 1856. In his spare time he continued
-his writing and tried his hand at craftsmanship. Burne-Jones went up
-to London a few months later. Morris followed shortly when Street
-moved his headquarters. Together they formed a close acquaintance
-with Rossetti. That dominating personality was not slow to recognize
-the powers of his new friends, and insisted that Morris should turn
-painter, asserting, with an inconsequence worthy of one of Oscar
-Wilde's creations, that everybody should be a painter. His proposal,
-although it had no permanent effect on Morris, showed that the
-election of architecture was not unalterable. For a time Morris
-painted, throwing into the work the energy that was inseparable from
-all his undertakings, but he was quick to realize that with all his
-understanding of the painter's art he could not achieve its mastery.
-The fact that he had been tempted to alter his choice even
-tentatively, however, was enough to make him suspicious of the choice
-itself. Without any conviction as to the possibility of a career as
-a painter, he abandoned his profession as architect at the end of a
-year. His state was one of considerable danger. Rich enough to make
-work unnecessary as a means of living, exposed to an influence so
-impetuous as Rossetti's, already showing considerable power in
-several forms of expression as an artist, wholly unable to dissociate
-one from the other, seeing but one purpose behind them all, there was
-a probability, in the light of experience almost a certainty, that he
-would become an excellent amateur of the arts, practising many things
-with credit and triumphant in none, a generous patron, a kind of
-titanic dilettante. The manner in which he overcame this danger is
-one of the most remarkable things in the history of art. Had some
-circumstance, external or internal, forced him to concentrate himself
-on one or another of the forms with which he was experimenting, the
-escape would have been normal and relatively free of difficulty. But
-there was no such circumstance. His activities daily became more
-diffused rather than more concentrated. Carving, modelling,
-illuminating, designing, painting, poetry and prose-writing, all
-became part of his daily scheme. Painting, indeed, he left, save for
-incidental purposes, but the scope of his practice widened with every
-year. And instead of becoming, as would seem to have been
-inevitable, an accomplished amateur, he became a master in everything
-he touched. He revolutionized many manufacturing processes and
-invested craftsmanship with a vitality that it had not known for
-centuries; he rediscovered secrets of mediæval artistry that were
-supposed to be finally lost, and re-established the union between
-beauty and things of common use; he became printer, and the books
-from his press are scarcely excelled in the history of printing; he
-wrote prose romances which in themselves would have secured him an
-honourable place in literature, and yet all these achievements might
-be cancelled and he would still stand as one of the greatest poets of
-his age; or, indeed, of any age. It is all an astonishing testimony
-to the vitality of his artistic conscience. However uncertain might
-be the expression of his art in these early days, the fundamental
-significance of art was rooted in his being with an unassailable
-strength. In the light of his life-work these first more or less
-indefinite gropings appear no longer as the whims of a nature
-uncertain of itself. The impulse within him was not to be satisfied
-by any partial expression. If it was to create a new world in
-poetry, it must also strive to bring that world in some measure into
-the affairs of daily life. It was not sufficient for Morris that the
-dishes and goblets on the king's table in his song should be
-beautiful or that he should commemorate Jason in halls hung 'with
-richest webs.' The furnishings of his own table must be comely too,
-and the 'richest webs' should not be a memory alone. No more perfect
-example of critical stupidity could well be found than the notion
-that Morris, as a creative artist, separated himself from the affairs
-of the life about him, as if in retreat. Every line of poetry that
-he wrote was the direct expression of the spirit in which he ordered
-his daily practice.
-
-Morris's feeling for mediævalism must not be misunderstood. He was
-fully conscious of the fact that a few centuries are as but a moment
-in the development of man, and he did not turn to early art as to the
-expression of a humanity differing in any fundamental way from the
-humanity of his own day. Nor did he turn to that aspect of
-mediævalism which has given it the name of the Dark Ages, but to the
-life that produced Giotto and Angelico, Van Eyck and Dürer, and
-Holbein and Memling, the monks whose illuminated books he prized so
-dearly, and Chaucer.[1] He was not indifferent to the masterpieces
-of the modern world. The range of Shakespeare's humanity, Shelley's
-spiritual ardour, the passionate identification of truth with beauty
-which was as a gospel to Keats, the earlier poems of Tennyson and
-Browning, he accepted as revelations. Wordsworth and Milton he
-professed to dislike, but he more probably disliked the people who
-liked them wrongly. Nothing is more provocative than the praise of
-fools. But it was in the work of those early artists, the men from
-whom the Pre-Raphaelites took their name, that he found the most
-perfect and satisfying expression of the spiritual life which was for
-him the only true salvation on earth. It has been said by Paul
-Lacroix that in the painting of Jan Van Eyck 'the Gothic school
-decked itself with a splendour which left but little for the future
-Venetian school to achieve beyond; with one flight of genius, stiff
-and methodical conceptions became imbued with suppleness and vital
-action.' The same is substantially true of Chaucer in poetry. Some
-lessons in rudimentary technique might have been learned by these men
-from their predecessors, but their powers of expression were vibrant
-as some newly-discovered energy, and they used them in all their
-freshness to embody a sane, simple view of life such as Morris
-himself held. The subtlety which might follow in the evolution from
-these beginnings, the greater intricacy of achievement, would take
-their place in his consciousness, but nothing could ever displace his
-worship of these frank and exultant records of man's joy in his work,
-a joy that he hoped would yet be regained. They and their kind
-remained for him, throughout his life, the supreme examples of the
-meaning of art.
-
-When he gave up his work in Street's office, Morris moved with
-Burne-Jones to rooms in Red Lion Square. They were unfurnished, and
-out of this circumstance really sprang the beginnings of 'Morris and
-Company,' although the firm was not actually founded until 1861. The
-two artists found nothing in the shops that was tolerable, so Morris
-made rough designs of furniture and commissioned a carpenter to
-execute them in plain deal. Chairs, a massive table, a settle and a
-wardrobe were among the first acquisitions. Rossetti painted two
-panels of the settle, and Burne-Jones decorated the wardrobe with
-paintings from Chaucer. When Morris built his own house this process
-was carried out on a larger scale, but the beginnings of the
-revolution of house-furnishing in England are clearly traceable to
-the rooms in Red Lion Square.
-
-In the Long Vacation of 1875 Rossetti conceived the ill-fated scheme
-of mural paintings for the new hall of the Oxford Union. The story
-need not be told here in any detail. Morris and Burne-Jones were
-pressed unto the service with some six or seven others, and each
-painted one picture, Morris in addition designing and carrying out
-the decoration of the ceiling. No proper preparations were made for
-the work, and the paintings have perished. The undertaking is
-interesting to us here as throwing sidelights on certain aspects of
-Morris's temperament. He had begun and finished his picture long
-before any of the others, and while they were still engaged on their
-appointed shares he had voluntarily set himself to the ceiling
-design. His capacity for work, of which this is the first striking
-example, was always enormous, and it is not surprising to hear that a
-distinguished doctor, speaking of his comparatively early death at
-the age of sixty-three, said, 'I consider the case is this: the
-disease is simply being William Morris and having done more work than
-most ten men.' It was on this occasion, too, that his strange store
-of assimilated knowledge was put to practical use. The paintings
-were all taken from the "Mort d'Arthur," and models were required for
-arms and armour. They were not to be found, and Morris, unaided by
-books of reference, designed them, and they were made by a jobbing
-smith under his supervision. When the Union work was finished he
-took rooms in Oxford instead of returning to London, and among the
-new friends that he made was Swinburne, then an undergraduate at
-Balliol. He continued his apprenticeship as a painter with
-enthusiasm but lessening conviction, but poetry was already becoming
-a first consideration with him. He had already published a few
-poems, as we have seen, in the "Oxford and Cambridge Magazine," and
-several others were written during his temporary residence in Oxford.
-
-He was a man of fine physique and a remarkable vehemence of temper.
-Burne-Jones tells us that when they were painting the Union walls and
-needed models they sat for each other, and that Morris 'had a head
-always fit for Lancelot or Tristram.' To think a thing was generally
-to say it. His intolerance of everything vulgar and mean and
-disloyal in art and life found immediate and forceful expression. A
-friend who knew him well tells me of an occasion when he went with
-Burne-Jones to the theatre. They were sitting in the pit, and one of
-the actresses was incurring Morris's particular displeasure by reason
-of her misuse of her mother-tongue. At a moment of tension she had
-to enter and announce that her father was dead. She did so, but to
-the effect that her 'father was dad.' Morris could bear it no
-longer, and standing up with his hands clenched he roared across the
-theatre, 'What the devil do you mean by dad?' to the utter
-discomfiture of his companion. Insincerity--and incompetence he took
-to be a form of insincerity--at all times exhausted his patience, and
-he was never careful to conceal his feelings.
-
-The time of preparation was now passing into the time of achievement.
-Morris's nature had been spared much of the shock and stress to which
-it might have been subjected in its growth by the vulgarity and
-violent uncertainty of his age, by the fortunate contact with men who
-were in revolt. The movement that they represented and of which he
-was a part was large and strong enough to make a positive and
-progressive life of its own instead of being merely an isolated
-expression of turbulent disagreement. It was one of those rare
-manifestations, a revolt the first purpose of which was not to
-destroy but to create. To this influence had been added that of a
-countryside gravely beautiful, one full of the shadows and colour of
-romance, or, more precisely, of the northern romance to which he was
-always to lend his most faithful service. It must not be supposed
-that this implies any coldness in his nature, which was at all times
-finely passionate. But it was, always, also simple, and simplicity
-of passion is the ultimate distinction of the North. The luxuriance
-of the South, with all its beauty, tends to obscurity. Nothing is
-further from wisdom than to suppose that the passion of the North is
-cold; it is merely naked. His characteristic simplicity of outlook
-was not yet impressing itself with its final certainty on his work,
-but it was already in being, as is clear from the records of his
-personality as it appeared to his friends at the beginning of his
-career.
-
-Such was the nature of the man, who, fostered to articulate
-expression in a spiritual atmosphere which it has been my purpose to
-describe, was about to make his first appeal as poet to the public.
-Early in 1858, Messrs. Bell and Daldy published _The Defence of
-Guenevere and Other Poems_.
-
-
-
-[1] The chronological irregularity in this passage is deliberate, and
-I am aware, of course, that certain of the names mentioned cannot
-strictly be credited to mediævalism. But a nice distinction of
-epochs is not necessary for the present purpose. There was, in
-Morris's view of art, a kinship between Giotto and Holbein which was
-unaffected by the fact that the former died in 1336, whilst Holbein
-saw the full day of the northern renaissance two hundred years later.
-
-
-
-
-II
-
-EARLY POEMS AND PROSE
-
-In insisting upon the simplicity of Morris's artistic ideal it is
-well to examine a little closely the precise meaning of simplicity.
-Spiritual adventure is the supremely momentous thing in a man's life,
-but it is also the most intangible. Art being the most perfect
-expression of spiritual adventure, its function is to impart to the
-recipient some measure of that exaltation experienced by its creator
-at the moment of conception. But to attain this end the art must
-have that instinctive rightness which cannot be achieved by taking
-thought but only by a rarity of perception which lends essential
-truth to the common phrase that the artist is born, not made. If you
-give a potter a lump of clay he may shape it into a vessel ugly or
-beautiful. If our artistic intelligence or our spiritual
-intelligence is awake, we shall instantly determine the result; if
-ugly it will revolt us, or at best leave us indifferent; if beautiful
-it will give us joy. But the difference, which is evident enough to
-our consciousness, does not enable us to define the distinction
-between the ugly and the beautiful, the dead and the quick. We only
-know that in the one there is an obscure and wonderful vitality and
-satisfying completeness that is lacking in the other. The beautiful
-thing may be perfectly simple, but it nevertheless has in it
-something strange and indefinable, something as elusive as life
-itself. The simple must not be confused with the easy. When Morris
-read his first poem to the acclamation of his friends, and announced
-that if this was poetry it was very easy to write, it must be
-remembered that he meant that it was easy for the rare creative
-organisation that was William Morris. No doubt it was just as easy
-for Shelley in the moment of creation to set down an image of
-desolation as perfect as
-
- Blue thistles bloomed in cities,
-
-as it is for the veriest poetaster to produce his commonplaces, and
-the result is certainly as simple, but the one is touched into life
-by the god-like thing which we call imagination, whilst the other is
-nerveless. The bow that was as iron to the suitors bent as a willow
-wand to the hand of Ulysses. The simplicity of Morris's art is yet
-compact of the profound and inscrutable mystery. It is not wholly
-true to say that all great or good art is simple. From Donne to
-Browning and Meredith there have been poets whose art is complex and
-yet memorable. It is not my present purpose to discuss the precise
-value of simplicity in art, but to point out that simplicity does not
-imply either superficiality or the worthless kind of ease.
-
-Richard Watson Dixon said that in his opinion Morris never excelled
-his early poems in achievement, and his judgment in the matter has
-been echoed a good many times with far less excuse than Dixon himself
-could plead. To him they represented the first impassioned
-expression of a life which he had shared, and enthusiasms which he
-had helped to kindle, and by which in turn he had been fostered. He
-was the man to whom Morris first read his first poem, and there was
-naturally a fragrance in the memory which nothing could ever quite
-replace. But the echoes have no such justification, and are
-generally the result of incomplete knowledge. _The Defence of
-Guenevere and Other Poems_ is quite good enough to make it safe to
-avow a preference for it, without reading the later work. A
-reputation for taste may be preserved here, with the least possible
-labour. But there is nothing in the volume which helps to make the
-position really tenable. There is, indeed, scarcely any poet who can
-point to a first volume of such high excellence, so completely
-individual, so certain in intention, as could Morris. But to set it
-above the freedom and poignancy of _The Life and Death of Jason_, the
-tenderness and architectural strength of _The Earthly Paradise_ and
-the fiery triumph of _Sigurd the Volsung_ is a critical absurdity.
-It is a remarkable book, one which in itself would have assured
-Morris of his place in the history of poetry, but it remains no more
-than the exquisite prelude of a man whose complete achievement in
-poetry was to stand with the noblest of the modern world.
-
-The chief evidence of immaturity which is found in Morris's first
-book is a certain vagueness of outline in some of the poems. The
-wealth of decorative colour of which he was never to be dispossessed
-is already here, and on the whole it is used fitly and with
-restraint. Effects such as
-
- A great God's angel standing, _with such dyes
- Not known on earth, on his great wings_
-
-and
-
- he sat alone
- _With raiment half blood-red, half white as snow._
-
-and
-
- Also her hands have lost that way
- Of clinging that they used to have;
- They look'd quite easy, _as they lay
- Upon the silken cushions brave
- With broidery of apples green._
-
-And again,
-
- _The blue owls on my father's hood_
- Were a little dimm'd as I turn'd away,
-
-and whole passages in such poems as _The Wind_, and even poems in
-their entirety such as _The Gilliflower of Gold_ depend as much upon
-their colour as if actually done with a brush; and they depend
-safely, whilst the use of one art by another can scarcely be more
-triumphantly vindicated than by the lines in _A Good Knight in
-Prison_, where Sir Guy says:--
-
- For these vile beasts that hem me in
- These Pagan beasts who live in sin
- * * * * *
- Why, all these things I hold them just
- _Like dragons in a missal-book,
- Wherein, whenever we may look,
- We see no horror, yea delight,
- We have, the colours are so bright._
-
-
-There are moments, however, in this volume when the poet's power of
-visualizing, as with the eyes of the painter, lead him into a
-weakness from which his later work is entirely free. When Guenevere
-says:--
-
- This is true, the kiss
- Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day
- I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,
-
- When both our mouths went wandering in one way,
- And aching sorely, met among the leaves;
- Our hands being left behind strained far away.
-
-we feel that a certain sacrifice of emotional directness of speech is
-being made to a sense that intrudes on the poetry without
-intensifying it. And we have the same feeling when Galahad says:--
-
- No maid will talk
- Of sitting on my tomb until the leaves
- Grow big upon the bushes of the walk,
- East of the Palace-pleasaunce, _make it hard
- To see the minster therefrom._
-
-
-The elaboration in these places blurs rather than quickens our
-vision, as it does again in Rapunzel's song:--
-
- Send me a true knight,
- Lord Christ, with a steel sword, bright,
- Broad and trenchant; yea, _and seven
- Spans from hilt to point, O Lord!
- And let the handle of his sword
- Be gold on silver._
-
-
-We may almost forgive a young poet flaws which are in themselves
-lovely and are but excesses of a method which he commonly uses to
-wholly admirable ends; but they are flaws none the less. The sense
-of values is not yet consistently true. But the indistinctness of
-outline of which I have spoken is a more serious weakness than this
-occasional indiscretion in the use of colour.
-
-The poems in the volume may, somewhat arbitrarily, but fitly for the
-present purpose, be considered as four or five groups. The poems in
-the first, headed by _The Defence of Guenevere_, _King Arthur's Tomb_
-and _Sir Galahad_, have love for their central theme and aim at
-conducting a more or less simple love story to its successful or
-disastrous issue with directness and clarity. The obscurity that
-alone threatens their complete success is not due to subtlety on the
-one hand nor to vagueness of conception on the other, but merely to a
-power of expression that was not yet sure of itself. Psychological
-subtlety was not, as is sometimes supposed, outside Morris's range;
-on the contrary, he gives constant and varied evidence of a depth of
-perception in human affairs quite remarkable, as will be shown. But
-the subtlety was never confused and blurred by the sophistry that
-tempts so many poets on making a really pregnant psychological
-discovery into all kinds of unintelligible elaboration. When he saw
-clearly into the workings of the mind he recorded his vision in a few
-sharp and clearly defined strokes, and left it. Subtlety and
-obscurity are never synonymous in his work. And although, at
-twenty-four, his understanding of man's love for woman was naturally
-not very profound or wide in its range, it was passionate and quite
-sure of itself within its own imaginative experience. His failure in
-places to give his understanding clear utterance is the failure of a
-man not yet wholly used to his medium. When Guenevere says:--
-
- While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,
-
- Belonging to the time ere I was bought
- By Arthur's great name and his little love;
- Must I give up for ever then, I thought,
-
- That which I deemed would ever round me move
- Glorifying all things; for a little word,
- Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove
-
- Stone-cold for ever?
-
-the thought is neither close nor difficult, nor, on the other hand,
-is it loose, but the statement is not lucid. It is, however,
-intelligible after we have sifted it a little carefully, but in such
-a passage as--
-
- A little thing just then had made me mad;
- I dared not think, as I was wont to do,
- Sometimes, upon my beauty; if I had
-
- Held out my long hand up against the blue,
- And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,
- Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,
-
- There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,
- Round by the edges; what should I have done,
- If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,
-
- And startling green drawn upward by the sun?
-
-the thought is hidden in an utterance so tangled and involved as to
-make it almost impossible to straighten it out, and in any case
-poetry so enigmatic ceases to be poetry at all. Such extreme
-instances are, however, very rare even in this first volume, and
-scarcely ever to be found in his later work. The title-poem
-throughout is uncertain in its expression. There are passages of
-fine directness and precision as--
-
- And fast leapt Caitiff's sword, until my knight
- Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,
- Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight,
-
-and the picture of Guenevere at the close, listening for Launcelot,
-'turn'd sideways,'
-
- Like a man who hears
-
- His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood
- Of his foe's lances.'
-
-but in spite of these and the unquestionable beauty of the poem's
-cumulative effect, there is a troubling lack of firmness in many
-places that makes the achievement incomplete. I think that the use
-of _terza rima_ in itself has something to do with this. In a poem
-like Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind" we are prepared to follow the
-poet in any imaginative flight that he may attempt from moment to
-moment, and his adventurousness finds all the time some turn of
-thought that will perfectly fit the exacting demands of the form that
-he is using. But in Morris's poem the process of the narrative to be
-convincing can only be conducted in one way, and that way the poet
-frequently finds obstructed by the necessity of a verse-form
-particularly difficult in English. However this may be, _King
-Arthur's Tomb_ is certainly less open to this charge of obscurity in
-utterance, and the thought has more imaginative force in it. There
-are passages here that suggest the presence of a poet to whom the
-highest things in poetry may yet be possible. Guenevere's cry--
-
- Unless you pardon, what shall I do, Lord,
- But go to hell? and there see day by day
- Foul deed on deed, hear foulest word on word,
- For ever and for ever, such as on the way
-
- To Camelot I heard once from a churl,
- That curled me up upon my jennet's neck
- With bitter shame; how then, Lord, should I curl
- For ages and for ages? _dost thou reck_
-
- _That I am beautiful, Lord, even as you_
- And your dear mother? why did I forget
- You were so beautiful, and good, and true,
- That you loved me so, Guenevere? O yet
-
- If even I go to hell, _I cannot choose
- But love you, Christ, yea, though I cannot keep
- From loving Launcelot._
-
-has a poignancy and a curious understanding of the action of a mind
-in spiritual anguish that were to be so nobly employed in things like
-the close of _Jason_. The dramatic opposition of Guenevere's love,
-which is all the while troubled by the half-consciousness of sin, to
-Launcelot's, which is its own sole cause and justification, is,
-further, a first indication of the poet's power to set the elemental
-passions in action at once simple and convincing. When the Queen
-finds her lover lying on the dead king's tomb, she schools her tongue
-to a cold absurdity, not daring to trust herself,--'Well done! to
-pray for Arthur,' and Launcelot cries out:--
-
- Guenevere! Guenevere!
- Do you not know me, are you gone mad? fling
- Your arms and hair about me, lest I fear
- You are not Guenevere, but some other thing.
-
-and the queen's answer falls with the tragic intensity of spiritual
-self-betrayal--
-
- Pray you forgive me, fair lord Launcelot!
- I am not mad, but I am sick; they cling,
- God's curses, unto such as I am; not
-
- Ever again shall we twine arms and lips.
-
-There is in this, and in the whole of the poem from this point a true
-and incisive sense of conflict, continually heightened by such
-perfectly balanced turns of the imagination as when Launcelot says:--
-
- lo you her thin hand,
- That on the carven stone can not keep still
- Because she loves me against God's command.
-
-culminating in the confused feelings of terror and appeased destiny
-at the end of Guenevere's speaking.
-
-_Sir Galahad: A Christmas Mystery_ is, it may be said, entirely free
-of the obscurity, and shows, if not a profounder, yet a more acute
-power of perception. The beauty and tenderness of love-sorrow are
-themes common enough in poetry, but Morris by making Galahad's
-experience of them spring from his thought of other men's love
-presents them with a peculiarly fresh poignancy. Galahad on his
-quest, 'dismal, unfriended,' thinks of the other knights.
-
- And what if Palomydes also ride,
- And over many a mountain and bare heath
- Follow the questing beast with none beside?
- Is he not able still to hold his breath
-
- With thoughts of Iseult? doth he not grow pale
- With weary striving, to seem best of all
- To her, 'as she is best,' he saith? to fail
- Is nothing to him, he can never fall.
-
- For unto such a man love-sorrow is
- So dear a thing unto his constant heart,
- That even if he never win one kiss,
- Or touch from Iseult, it will never part.
-
-And Launcelot can think of Guenevere, 'next month I kiss you, or next
-week, And still you think of me,' but Galahad himself
-
- Some carle shall find
- Dead in my arms in the half-melted snow,
-
-and people will but say that he 'If he had lived, had been a right
-good knight' and that very evening will be glad when 'in their
-scarlet sleeves the gay-dress'd minstrels sing.' The force of the
-poet's thought about a particular phase of love is intensified in an
-unmistakable way by placing the utterance on the lips of a man who is
-not speaking of his own experience, which would have been beautiful
-but a little sentimental, but of his hunger for the experience,
-sorrowful though it may be, which is emotionally tragic. And we find
-another stroke of memorable subtlety when the voice of the vision
-says to the knight, speaking of Launcelot's love for Guenevere:--
-
- He is just what you know, O Galahad,
- This love is happy even as you say,
- But would you for a little time be glad,
- To make ME sorry long day after day?
-
- Her warm arms round his neck half throttle me
- The hot love-tears burn deep like spots of lead.
-
-The thought here, with wonderful instinct on the part of the poet, is
-precisely Galahad's own. It shapes the compensation to his spirit
-for its hunger and loneliness. We feel, in passages such as these,
-that here is a poet exultant in the exercise of a rare faculty of
-statement. The spiritual discovery and the announcement are in
-perfect correspondence. _A Good Knight in Prison_, _Old Love_, _The
-Sailing of the Sword_ and _Welland River_ are the other poems that
-may be included in this first group. They attempt a smaller
-psychological range than the poems already considered, but they have
-the same emotional intention and achieve it with clarity and
-precision. These poems already show the pervasive passion for the
-earth that has been discussed; the landscape is everywhere informed
-by intimacy and tenderness. Another aspect of the poet's temper too
-finds expression--an extraordinarily vivid sense of natural change
-and death. With speculation as to the unknown Morris was never
-concerned in his poetry. Death was to him neither a fearful thing
-nor yet a deliverance or a promise. It was simply the severing of a
-beautiful thing that he loved--life; the end of a journey that no
-labours could make wearisome. He did not question it, nor did he
-seek to evade its reality, but the thought of it was always coloured
-with a profound if perfectly brave melancholy. Without ever
-disputing with his reason the possibility of death's beneficence, it
-was not the beneficence of death that he perceived emotionally, but
-the pity of it. It was a fading away, and as such it filled him with
-a regretful tenderness, just as did the fading of the full year. The
-close of _The Ode to the West Wind_ crystallizes a mental attitude of
-which Morris was temperamentally incapable. But it is, of course, a
-mistake to suppose that the beauty of his poetry suffers in
-consequence. It is not the nature of the mood that matters, but its
-personal intensity.
-
-The poems of the second group, of which _The Chapel in Lyoness_ is
-the most notable example, have a central point in common with those
-of the first, but there is a mysticism in them which is quite
-unrelated to the obscurity which has been examined. It is not a
-mysticism that has any definite scheme or purpose underlying it;
-indeed I am not sure that mysteriousness would not be a fitter word
-to use. It is just the mysteriousness of artistic youth, proud of
-the faculty of which it finds itself possessed and a little prodigal
-in its use. There is still the effort to keep the lines of the story
-clear, but they are deliberately the lines of a soft brush rather
-than a steel point. To read _The Chapel in Lyoness_, _Concerning
-Geffray Teste Noire_ and _The Judgment of God_ is to receive an
-impression which is clear enough as long as we refrain from seeking
-to define it too precisely. The central thought and incidents of
-these poems are set out perfectly plainly, but there is superimposed
-a mysticism to which, happily, there is no key. We may never be
-quite sure of its meaning, but we know at least that it does not mean
-something which would be clear if once we divined some elusive secret
-of its nature. It is like the soft scent of an orchard, and we
-accept it as gratefully and with as little question.
-
-In poems such as _Rapunzel_ and _The Wind_, however, the quality that
-in those other poems was but an incident is adopted as a definite
-manner. What was before merely atmosphere is here employed as the
-substance. These two poems scarcely make any direct statement at
-all, and yet they succeed in an extraordinary way in conveying a
-precise intellectual impression. Through a wealth of imagery and
-verbal colour run thin threads of suggestion that, fragile as they
-are, yet stand out as clearly as the veins in dark marble and have
-the same values. It is remarkable that the coloured clouds in which
-these poems are, as it were, wrapped, are never stifling. The
-flowers of Morris's poetry are never of the hot-house. At the
-moments when he is most freely putting language to decorative use, he
-preserves a freshness as of windy moorlands or the green stalks of
-lilies. At times the threads of suggestion disappear altogether, and
-in the third group we find poems which are frankly essays in colour
-without any attempt at concrete significance. _The Tune of Seven
-Towers_, _Two Red Roses Across the Moon_, _The Blue Closet_, are
-examples. It is wrong to say that these poems have no meaning. They
-mean exactly the colours that they themselves create. It would be as
-wise to say that a sunset or a blue distance of mountains is
-meaningless. Somewhere between poems like _The Wind_ and _The Tune
-of Seven Towers_ may be placed _The Gilliflower of Gold_, _Spell
-Bound_, _Golden Wings_, and two or three others.
-
-The volume, if it were to be measured by the poems already mentioned,
-would have the first great quality of being unforgettable. A note is
-struck which is not necessarily beyond the compass but certainly
-outside the temperament of anyone but Morris. There is at present no
-trace of the discipleship to Chaucer, but a suggestion here and there
-of kinship with the Coleridge of "Kubla Khan" and the Keats of "La
-Belle Dame Sans Merci." The method of the later poems is already
-clearly suggested, but the feeling and expression are marked by the
-natural limitations and splendid excesses of youth. Morris places
-his figures on a background which is not unrelated to life but
-unrelated to the inessential circumstances of life. Through a
-changing year of daffodil tufts and roses, cornfields and autumn
-woods and the frozen twigs of winter, passes a pageant of knights in
-armour of silver and blue steel, with bright devices on their tabards
-and shields strewn with stars or flashing back gold to the sunlight,
-and queens and ladies passionate and beautiful. But they move on an
-earth that is the real earth of Morris's own experience; he has a
-definite meaning when he says
-
- Why were you more fair
- Than aspens in the autumn at their best?
-
-and the enchantment of his forests is that of the hornbeam twilight
-of his Essex homeland. And they themselves are people of flesh and
-blood, stirred by the common emotions of humanity. The passion, the
-glamour, and the poignancy of love and life all find mature
-expression in these pages, but we have to wait until _Jason_ and _The
-Earthly Paradise_ for the presence of the innate nobility of love and
-life behind these things. There is at present none of the fine
-austerity that is a quality essential to the highest poetry, but that
-is but to say that Morris in his youth was writing as a young man
-should and must write. The growth of the prophet in the poet is not
-to be looked for in the first fervour of song. The most that we can
-ask justly at this season is witness to the presence of the poet, and
-this we have here in abundance.
-
-The most memorable achievement of the volume is, however, _Sir Peter
-Harpdon's End_, which stands by itself, or, perhaps, with one other
-poem, _The Haystack in the Floods_. The historian of English drama
-during the second half of the nineteenth century might, if he were
-unwary, omit William Morris from his reckonings. If he were astute
-enough to remember him it would probably be as the author of _Love is
-Enough_. And yet at a time when some curious spell seems to have
-fallen on the poets whenever they turned their thoughts to the stage,
-_Sir Peter Harpdon's End_ reminds us of one, at least, to whom the
-union of drama and poetry was not impossible. Morris himself would
-seem to have been unconscious of the fact, for not only was he
-careless in this instance when a little care would have made his
-success strikingly complete, but henceforth he neglected this side of
-his faculty, exercising it on but one other occasion, and then in a
-more or less experimental mood, of which something will be said
-later. It will be well to examine this short play in detail, for its
-importance is apt to be under-estimated. In writing it Morris
-realized, as did no poet of his time and scarcely any poet since the
-close of the great epoch of poetic drama in England, the exact value
-of action in drama. The complete subordination of character and idea
-to action is a brief epitome of that degeneration of the modern
-theatre from which we are now witnessing the dawn of a deliverance.
-The supreme, though not necessarily the only, function of the drama
-is to show the development of character and the progress of idea
-through the medium of action, and until to-day the stage has been
-surrendered for a century, if not for a longer period, to work that
-is wholly unconcerned with this condition. The event has been
-everything. The poets from Shelley to Swinburne have realized this
-error and revolted, but in their eagerness to correct an abuse that
-was threatening the highest manifestation of their art, they have
-with amazing regularity overlooked another condition which, if not of
-equal importance, cannot be disregarded without lamentable results.
-Determined to dispossess action of its usurped authority, they have
-neglected its lawful and indispensable service. Their opponents in
-asserting action at the cost of all other things, and having, in
-consequence, nothing to say beyond the bare statement of events, have
-failed to produce either good literature or good drama, whilst they
-themselves, in turning to ideas alone, have had much to say and have
-so produced good and often noble literature, but in neglecting to
-preserve the right balance between ideas and action they too have
-failed to produce good drama. They have, unfortunately, no just
-answer to the charge that they constantly allow the play of character
-and idea to be unrelated to the action which they have chosen as
-their framework. Their failure in dramatic result, though free of
-the deplorable poverty and baseness of the method against which they
-were a reaction, is no less complete. Shelley, Byron, Tennyson,
-Browning, Swinburne, all wrote fine dramatic poetry, but they cannot
-show between them a poetic play that achieves with any precision the
-fundamental purpose of drama.
-
-Morris's instinct in this matter was perfectly poised. The
-mechanical part of the technique in _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_ is as
-crude as it well could be, chiefly, as I have suggested, on account
-of the poet's indifference. Short scenes follow each other in rapid
-succession, and in the middle of the play there is a hiatus which is
-intelligible enough but destroys the dramatic continuity. These
-defects make it difficult, though not impossible, for stage
-presentation, but otherwise it would, I believe, survive the ordeal
-triumphantly. The opening of the play is admirably contrived. In a
-few deft strokes the character of Peter Harpdon is outlined, and we
-know that he has humour and understanding of men, and a tenderness
-coloured by a certain roughness of temper. All this is shown
-strictly by his relation to the action in which he is involved--there
-is not a line but helps the development of this. Then in perfectly
-natural sequence the action enables him in a speech of little more
-than twenty lines to define the circumstances from which it has
-sprung, and thus we have set before us at the outset the nature of
-the protagonist and the situation in relation to which we are to look
-for that nature's manifestation; and already it is clear, in the
-character of John Curzon, that the people among whom Harpdon is to
-move will be no less sharply stated and proved than himself. The
-construction of this opening could not well be more skilful or
-instinctively right. Then follows what at first seems to be a
-momentary lapse into the dramatic error of which I have spoken. In a
-long soliloquy Peter reveals directly his spiritual and mental
-attitude towards this action in which he is involved and indirectly
-the commentary of the poet himself upon that attitude. This in
-itself is perfectly legitimate, and supported, of course, by all the
-poets of whom Shakespeare is the spring, indeed by all the great
-dramatic poets of literature. The Greek chorus realizes this end as
-one of its essential functions no less clearly than do the
-soliloquies of Hamlet; and until the poets see once again the
-significance of this fact and adapt it to modern needs, refusing to
-have their authority usurped by theatrical showmen and their stage
-carpenters, they will continue to fail in bringing back their art to
-the theatre. But it must always be remembered that this choric
-element of the drama justifies itself only as long as it limits
-itself to the presentation of idea growing directly out of the
-action. When it allows digression and elaboration for their own
-sake, or the sake of some altogether extraneous idea, in short for
-any reason other than intensifying the fundamental idea which the
-progress of the action creates, it becomes undramatic and ceases to
-fulfil its only right purpose. It is at this point that the poets
-since the close of the Elizabethan age have misunderstood the
-necessities of drama, and in Peter Harpdon's soliloquy we suspect
-Morris for a moment of the same error. But careful examination of
-the speech itself proves the suspicion to be almost if not wholly
-unfounded. We find that there is nothing that is not the immediate
-result of his position, and the worst that can be said of it is that
-there are turns of thought which, although not dramatically
-irrelevant, are a little superfluous and do not heighten our
-perception. It is curious that in this speech there is evidence of
-external contemporary influence in manner such as is scarcely to be
-found elsewhere in the book. There is at least a suggestion of
-Browning in such lines as--
-
- Now this is hard: a month ago,
- And a few minutes' talk had set things right
- 'Twixt me and Alice;--if she had a doubt.
- As (may Heaven bless her!) I scarce think she had,
- 'Twas but their hammer, hammer in her ears,
- Of 'how Sir Peter fail'd at Lusac bridge:'
- And 'how Sir Lambert' (think now!) 'his dear friend,
- His sweet, dear cousin, could not but confess
- That Peter's talk tended towards the French,
- Which he' (for instance Lambert) 'was glad of,
- Being' (Lambert, you see) 'on the French side.'
-
-
-The first scene closes with a swift turn of action carried on
-correspondingly swift dramatic speech. Peter Harpdon is defending an
-English castle in Poictou. His antagonist is his cousin Lambert, who
-has misrepresented a circumstance of war to impugn Peter's loyalty to
-his cause, careful for his own purposes that the rumour shall reach
-the ears of Peter's lady, Alice. Peter has had no means of defending
-himself, and his soliloquy is the outcome of the suffering that he
-experiences at the thought of his wife's possible mistrust of him.
-As he finishes, his servant, Clisson, comes in again, saying that a
-herald has come from Lambert--
-
- What says the herald of our cousin, sir?
-
- CURZON. So please you, sir, concerning your estate,
- He has good will to talk with you.
-
- SIR PETER. Outside,
- I'll talk with him, close by the gate St. Ives.
- Is he unarm'd?
-
- CURZON. Yea, sir, in a long gown.
-
- SIR PETER. Then bid them bring me hither my furr'd gown,
- With the long sleeves, and under it I'll wear,
- By Lambert's leave, a secret coat of mail.
-
-
-He will also take an axe, one--as we should expect of Morris--'with
-Paul wrought on the blade'--
-
- CURZON. How, sir! Will you attack him unawares,
- And slay him unarm'd?
-
- SIR PETER. Trust me, John, I know
- The reason why he comes here with sleeved gown
- Fit to hide axes up. So, let us go.
-
-
-Peter Harpdon is a Gascon knight, and in the next scene Lambert urges
-that this fact combined with expedience, for the French are in the
-ascendancy, should induce him to leave the English. Peter answers
-him at length but finishes in an aside--
-
- Talk, and talk, and talk--
- I know this man has come to murder me,
- And yet I talk still.
-
-Lambert accuses him then directly--
-
- If I said
- 'You are a traitor, being, as you are
- Born Frenchman.'
-
-They flash out at each other and Lambert 'takes hold of something in
-his sleeve,' strikes at Peter with a dagger, and is taken. He is
-brought before Harpdon in the castle and sentenced--
-
- Let the hangman shave his head quite clean,
- And cut his ears off close up to the head,
-
-Again we have the clear-cut delineation of character thrown up on a
-framework of simple and logical action which all the while is
-interesting as a means but not as an end. The blend of nobility and
-savagery in Peter's nature stands sharply contrasted with the
-meanness and merely dull cruelty of Lambert's. At this point the
-hiatus occurs. The next scene is in the French camp, and Sir Peter
-Harpdon is a prisoner before Guesclin and his officers, Lambert being
-one of them. The dramatic opposition of the situation to that which
-has immediately preceded it is admirable, but we need some
-explanation that is not made. Apart from this defect, however,
-Morris continues to build up his play with flawless instinct. Defeat
-had turned Lambert's cruelty into pitiful and cringing terror, whilst
-Peter at the moment of his power over his rival, although he had not
-spared him, had shown some mercy, as to one whom he despised. Now,
-with the shifting circumstance, the two prove themselves with
-unerring completeness. Defeat purges Peter Harpdon's nature of all
-its grosser parts, and he responds perfectly to the demands of tragic
-chance; whilst Lambert in his triumph reveals himself in all the
-degradation of a mean and wholly unheroic villainy. In both cases
-the development is logical, indeed inevitable, and yet it depends
-strictly upon the course of the action for its being. Already we
-know the natures of the men, and, given the event, can foresee their
-attitude with some certainty, but it needs the event itself to
-complete our understanding. Peter is not a coward nor lacking in
-nobility, yet when he hears that Lambert has come to him 'in a long
-gown' he knows what that means, and he makes no foolish boast of
-fearlessness, but frankly prepares himself with mail and axe. Now,
-before his judges, the same temper is evident. Quite simply, and
-with no blind defiance or pretence at indifference, he pleads for his
-life, not, as the squire says of him afterwards--
-
- Sullenly brave as many a thief will die,
- Nor yet as one that plays at japes with God.
-
-He states his case clearly, with dignity, yet earnestly. Clisson
-intercedes for him in a passage that outlines with precision yet
-another character, and Guesclin is sorry but obdurate; he must die.
-Then Lambert taunts him. He exults in the downfall of his enemy with
-a cruelty that is bestial yet calculated in every stroke, until his
-victim blenches. Then--
-
- I think you'll faint,
- Your lips are grey so; yes, you will, unless
- You let it out and weep like a hurt child;
- Hurrah! you do now. Do not go just yet,
- For I am Alice, am right like her now;
- Will you not kiss me on the lips, my love?
-
-and Clisson breaks in--
-
- You filthy beast, stand back and let him go,
- Or by God's eyes I'll choke you.
-
-This second speech of Clisson's is his last, and yet the tenderness
-and strength of the man are shown so definitely as to make him
-complete and living. He continues, asking Peter to forgive him for
-his share in his death--
-
- I would,
- If it were possible, give up my life
- Upon this grass for yours; fair knight, although,
- He knowing all things knows this thing too, well,
- Yet when you see His face some short time hence,
- Tell Him I tried to serve you.
-
-and Peter makes his last utterance, full of passionate realization of
-the moment, yet chiming to his character consistently to the end--
-
- Oh! my lord,
- I cannot say this is as good as life,
- But yet it makes me feel far happier now,
- And if at all, after a thousand years,
- I see God's face, I will speak loud and bold,
- And tell Him you were kind, and like Himself;
- Sir, may God bless you!
-
-He would not have them think that when he wept he did so because of
-Lambert's taunts. He was
-
- Deep in thought
- Of all things that have happened since I was
- A little child; and so at last I thought
- Of my true lady: truly, sir, it seem'd
- No longer gone than yesterday, that this
- Was the sole reason God let me be born
- Twenty-five years ago, that I might love
- Her, my sweet lady, and be loved by her;
-
-and so up to the close, which has all the awe and terror but also the
-pity and exaltation of authentic tragedy--
-
- I only wept because
- There was no beautiful lady to kiss me
- Before I died....
- ... O for some lady, though
- I saw her ne'er before; Alice, my love,
- I do not ask for; Clisson was right kind,
- If he had been a woman, I should die
- Without this sickness.
-
-
-The last scene, as just in dramatic instinct as the rest of the play,
-tells of the bearing of the news of Peter's death to the Lady Alice.
-
-I have examined this play in some detail, and with a good many
-quotations, for two reasons. One, already stated, to show that
-Morris had an understanding of the nature of drama which is generally
-overlooked, and secondly, because it is a common thing to hear people
-to whom poetry is a matter of real importance say that they find
-Morris--for all his beauty--languid and lacking in power of
-concentration. If _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_ be languid or anything
-but tense with concentrated emotion from beginning to end, then I
-confess my sense of values to be much awry. And, although he left
-the dramatic form, he did not lose this quality in his later work.
-He employed, for reasons which will be discussed later, a certain
-easy and decorative elaboration in much of his writing, but at the
-right moment in _Jason_, in the tales of _The Earthly Paradise_ and
-in _Sigurd the Volsung_, he was master of the direct vitality and
-vibrating force that he first used in _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_ and
-elsewhere when he needed them in this earliest volume, as in _The
-Haystack in the Floods_, with unquestionable control and vividness.
-
-The few poems that have not been mentioned are the lyrical
-expressions of moods, snatches of song and swift little pictures in
-many colours that give their own peculiar pleasure as do all the
-fragmentary strokes of a great artist. They are exquisitely done,
-but they must be read, not described.
-
-Several of the poems published in _The Defence of Guenevere_ volume
-had already appeared, as has been said, in "The Oxford and Cambridge
-Magazine." In the same magazine Morris had also printed his first
-essays in prose romance. A comparison of these with the poems shows
-very clearly the value of that exaltation apart from the discovery,
-which finds, as I have suggested, its expression in the music or
-rhythmical pattern of verse. In more than one of these prose stories
-Morris uses a subject that differs in no fundamental quality from
-those used in many of the poems. The treatment shows the same
-tenderness, the same love of the earth, the same power of direct and
-vivid presentation of passion when it is needed, as in passages of
-_Gertha's Lovers_, and the same delight in colour and all beautiful
-things. And Morris uses his medium skilfully, and with a curiously
-personal touch; his prose has the same freshness and light as his
-verse. In short, we have here two groups of work from the same man,
-alike in temper, substance and treatment, and in control, the only
-difference being that of form. And that difference is everything,
-for in the form lies the visible evidence of the spiritual pressure
-at the moment of conception. There is no more stupid error than to
-censure one work of art because it lacks the qualities of another
-with which it has no point of contact. No sane person thinks less
-of, say, "Wuthering Heights," because it has not the poetic
-perfection of "Adonais." But the case of Morris's early prose
-romances is different. They are delightful to read, they are in
-themselves the treasurable expression of a fine spirit, yet they have
-in them nothing that is not to be found in the poems. That being so,
-it is inevitable that a close acquaintance with the poems should make
-us a little careless of these prose tales, for in the poems we have
-all the excellences that we find in the others, and we have added the
-rhythmic exaltation which is the light on the wings of poetry.
-Morris's fund of inventiveness was inexhaustible, but in his early
-prose it discovered no quality that peculiarly fitted itself to the
-medium; the inventiveness in the prose tales and the poems is the
-same, and there is, in consequence, no compensation in the one for
-the absence of the higher faculty of utterance that is found in the
-other. Morris realized this himself, and for the next thirty years
-created in verse. Nothing is further from my mind than to suggest
-that _The Story of the Unknown Church_ and _Lindenborg Pool_,
-_Gertha's Lovers_ and _The Hollow Land_ and _Svend and his Brethren_,
-are other than beautiful expressions of a rare creative intelligence,
-but no clearer evidence of the essential difference between that
-which is poetry and that which is not could well be found than by
-setting side by side things so closely related in many ways, indeed
-in every way save one, as these stories and _The Defence of
-Guenevere_ and _King Arthur's Tomb_, _Rapunzel_ and _The Wind_, _Sir
-Peter Harpdon's End_ and _Shameful Death_. Nor could anything be
-advanced more unanswerably supporting the contention that verse is
-the one unassailable medium for poetry.
-
-Nine years were to pass before Morris published his next book, _The
-Life and Death of Jason_. The course of his life and the nature of
-his development in the meantime are discussed briefly in the
-following chapter.
-
-
-
-
-III
-
-INTERLUDE
-
-In 1859 Morris married Miss Jane Burden, of Oxford. To a man of his
-profound tenderness for all the simple and rational things of life,
-home was a symbol of the deepest significance. Homestead and
-homeland are words used constantly and lovingly in his writing. A
-man's home was, as he understood it, not merely a refuge from the
-serious business of life or a comfortable and convenient means of
-satisfying social requirements, but the temple of his daily worship.
-It should be at once a centre of his labours and an expression of
-himself. The application of the artist's understanding to daily
-conduct is not always possible, or of first importance, for it is the
-artist's function to persuade, not to compel; but such application is
-the logical outcome of true development that is not hindered by
-circumstance. We do not impugn Browning's sincerity either as a man
-or an artist because he mercilessly exposed the evils of Society and
-yet was a great diner-out. We feel, indeed, that he was of sounder
-judgment and a finer charity than Shelley, who not only exposed the
-evils, but also left society gasping whilst he went naked to his
-dinner or made his house the asylum for anybody incapable of managing
-his own affairs. But it is, on the other hand, an everlasting
-vindication of Byron's strange personality that the man who wrote
-'The Isles of Greece' gave his life in the service of the cause that
-he sang. Morris's unchanging gospel was that man should have joy in
-his work, which meant that the results of his work would in
-themselves be beautiful. To accept anything that was unlovely on any
-terms short of compulsion would, in consequence, have been to
-proclaim the truth without insisting upon it by example. Had he done
-so his art might have lost none of its vitality, but by steadily
-refusing to do so he made the common charge of aloofness even less
-intelligible than it would otherwise have been. Being a customer in
-the world's market he was determined not to degrade the men by whom
-the market was supplied. If he could find no other solution, he
-would supply it himself.
-
-He bought a piece of land at Upton in Kent, careful that it should
-include an orchard. Here, with Philip Webb as architect, he built
-the Red House, which was to be his home for five years--until
-circumstances made it necessary for him to live again in London.
-Immediately, the difficulty that had confronted him in his Red Lion
-Square rooms grew into one that was not to be met by the friendly
-co-operation of a jobbing carpenter. There was a large house to be
-furnished and fitted, and beautiful things had to be found for the
-purpose. He came away from the market empty-handed, but carrying in
-his mind the idea of Morris and Company. He would not only supply
-his own needs decently; he would remove a reproach.
-
-The original prospectus of the firm announced the names of Rossetti,
-Madox Brown, Burne-Jones, Morris himself, and three others as
-partners. The history of the enterprise has been told by Mr. Mackail
-and others, and need not be discussed here in any detail. Its
-influence upon the lesser arts in England has been enormous, and its
-activities are, fortunately, still growing. When Morris died he had
-for some years been sole director of the venture, and its work
-embraced carpets, chintzes, wallpapers, stained glass, tapestries,
-tiles, furniture, wall-decoration--in short, everything by which a
-building might gain or lose in beauty. The first premises were in
-Red Lion Square, near to the poet's old rooms, and the earliest
-achievement of the firm was to help in making the Red House at Upton,
-in the words of Burne-Jones, "the beautifullest place on earth."
-Webb having designed the house--with Morris at his elbow--the firm
-furnished it and the painters of the group proceeded to decorate the
-inside surfaces. The house was made to fit the orchard, so that, as
-Mr. Mackail tells us in a beautiful sentence, "the apples fell in at
-the windows as they stood open on hot autumn nights." Gardening was
-one of the things of which Morris seems to have been born with
-knowledge, and he knew the uses of hollyhocks and sunflowers. Here,
-then, was a home, fashioned, as far as might be, into an earthly
-paradise. The story of these five years is a very charming one; open
-house was kept, and a good cellar and a bowling-green and tobacco
-jars were not wanting. Here the poet's two daughters were born, and
-we get a delightful picture of the house at a christening, with
-Rossetti refusing to wait until dessert for the raisins, and beds
-strewn about the drawing-room, Swinburne contenting himself with a
-sofa. These things, however, are to the biographer, and are set down
-with fitting grace in the book to which I have referred more than
-once.
-
-Morris went up to London daily to conduct the business at Red Lion
-Square. The value of the work that he had undertaken is even yet
-imperfectly realized. Most people whose artistic intelligence is
-awake contrive to have in their houses many beautiful things, but it
-is only when we have been into a house where everything is beautiful
-that we can understand the precise aim that caused Morris to become a
-manufacturer. There is an enchantment about such a dwelling-place
-that cannot be described, an atmosphere of health and completeness
-that must be experienced to be understood. A beautiful house was no
-more a luxury to Morris than sound meat on his table. But we have
-laws for our butchers, whilst we have none for our upholsterers.
-Some one once referred to Morris as the "upholsterer-poet," which
-pleased him greatly. That such a term should be meant as a reproach
-he could not understand. He asked for nothing better than to
-convince people that an upholsterer had a soul, and to make them
-determined not to deal with him until he showed it in his chairs and
-sofas.
-
-The five years at Upton were a time of many energies and a steady
-establishment of the poet's attitude towards life. The London
-business was a serious and permanent undertaking, and demanded, by
-the nature of its being, Morris's constant personal attention. This,
-together with the daily journeys and the claims and
-responsibilities--of no ordinary kind, as we have seen--of his new
-home, left little time on his hands, and his work as poet was of
-necessity put aside for the moment. But this fresh undertaking was
-of peculiar value to his development, and came at precisely the right
-moment. In his first volume of poems there had been the shadow of
-that new world that had already shaped itself in his consciousness.
-It had been beautiful, full of significance and promise, but still a
-shadow. It is not fanciful to suppose that had his mind not found
-some practical means of proving itself, of, so to speak, checking its
-progress step by step, his poetry would have retained this intangible
-quality to the end. This is not to suggest that the poetry of the
-_Guenevere_ volume is in any sense unreal, but to remember its
-atmosphere of uncertainty, or to say, precisely, that it is but the
-shadow of the world that was in the poet's mind. In the workshop of
-Morris and Company, it seems to me, this proving ground was happily
-discovered. No better illustration, by contrast, of my meaning could
-be found than in that remarkable book, Mr. Gordon Craig's "Art of the
-Theatre." We have here, in some ways, the profoundest piece of
-writing on the theatre that has appeared in England. Many elementary
-truths that have been forgotten for centuries, if indeed they have
-even been realized since the days which are commonly supposed to
-belong to an era before dramatic history had begun, are here made to
-stand out with startling clearness. But the radical defect of the
-book is a vagueness, an uncertainty of statement, an indiscipline of
-theory. We are constantly regretting the fact that Mr. Craig, as
-these beautiful and strangely suggestive thoughts went through his
-mind, had no stage and equipment ready to his hand to test them and
-bring them to perfect articulation--that he had no proving ground.
-Morris was more fortunate. He carried in his imagination a world of
-which I attempt to set down the conditions elsewhere. At first he
-could grasp only its beauty and wonderful hope; its perfect
-realization eluded him. It was remote not from reality but from his
-understanding. But now, working in Red Lion Square, delighting in
-the labour of his hands and inspiring the same delight in others:
-building a home that should bring daily joy to himself and his
-friends: investing the offices of husband and father and host with
-their normal and simple dignity and stripping them of every vestige
-of insincerity, he brought his dream to the crucible of experience.
-The result is that when next he attempts to shape his world into
-poetry there is nothing left of the indefinite. All the beauty and
-colour are retained, all the tenderness and poignancy, but the poet
-has come up to his vision and the outlines are no longer in doubt.
-The shadows of _Guinevere_ have become the vibrant men and women of
-_Jason_. The paradise has been brought to earth.
-
-The only poetry that Morris wrote during these five years was part of
-a cycle of poems on the Troy war. The plan included twelve poems,
-six of which were written, two begun, and four untouched. Those that
-were written were never published, but Mr. Mackail describes them for
-us in some detail, and it is clear that Morris followed a just
-instinct in laying them aside. They are dramatic in form, and if
-finished they would doubtless have made interesting reading after
-_Sir Peter Harpdon's End_. But the eager unrest of the early volume
-is here moving towards turbulence. It is as much a mistake to
-suppose that turbulence is a quality peculiar to weakness as that it
-is necessarily a token of strength. Webster as a poet was turbulent
-and strong: Bulwer Lytton turbulent and weak. On the other hand, the
-noblest strength may be quiet, but so may the most insipid weakness.
-The opening of "Paradise Lost" is at once one of the quietest and one
-of the most powerful passages in poetry; but the quiet ease of the
-good Mr. Akenside is mere tediousness. The point is that this new
-temper that showed itself in the Troy poems was not in itself one
-incapable of fine issues, but that it was at variance with the
-essential inclination of the poet's development, and that Morris
-himself felt this to be so. A curious myth has grown up about
-Morris's methods of work, to the effect that he threw this or that
-undertaking aside as it were by whim, forgetting all about it unless
-another whim sent him to it again. Were it not for this myth it
-would be unnecessary to say that great artists never work in this
-fashion. If we can but discover it, there is a perfectly hard and
-logical reason in all they do. When he was writing the Troy poems
-Morris had thirty years of vigour in front of him. He broke off the
-work in the middle, and never returned to it. We cannot suppose that
-he did this other than deliberately and with carefully considered
-reason. That reason was, it is clear, the conviction that he was
-labouring in a direction along which his genius did not lead him.
-
-In 1865 Morris moved with his family to Bloomsbury. To leave Red
-House was a great trouble to his mind, but the daily journeys became
-increasingly irksome, and some fluctuation in his private money
-matters made it more than ever imperative that nothing should be left
-undone to make the business prosper. An able business manager was
-found, and Morris was able to devote more of his time to actual
-designing and craftsmanship. The hours saved each day in travelling
-meant fresh opportunities for his highest creative work, and the
-scheme of _The Earthly Paradise_ began to take definite shape.
-
-
-
-
-IV
-
-NARRATIVE POEMS
-
-_The Life and Death of Jason_ was originally planned as one of the
-stories for _The Earthly Paradise_, which appeared in 1868-70. It
-developed to a length too great, however, for this purpose, and was
-published separately in 1867. It won for Morris an immediate
-popularity, and it marks his realization of a matured and fully
-rounded manner in poetry. The _Guenevere_ volume had announced with
-certainty the presence of a new poet, but it had said nothing at all
-conclusively as to the nature of his future development, nothing to
-prepare us for a narrative poet who should reach out to Chaucer in
-achievement and surpass all save his master in a form strangely
-neglected in English verse. The answer to the criticism that holds
-narrative poetry to be the humblest order of the art is to be made in
-two words--Chaucer, Morris. It is true that our narrative poetry
-when set beside our dramatic and lyric wealth is, relatively, but a
-little store of great worth. But in the hands of these two men the
-form attains a distinction that proves for ever that when employed
-with mastery it is capable of the noblest ends. Narrative poetry is,
-in fundamental intention, closely related to poetic drama, and its
-failure in most hands springs from the misunderstanding that has
-already been analysed in connection with _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_.
-It may be perfectly true to say that by his actions shall a man be
-known, but there is in the statement the implied qualification that
-such actions shall be normal and habitual; whilst the actions which
-narrative poetry usually relates are extraordinary and irregular,
-exciting the interest momentarily only, and revealing nothing of the
-characters of the actors. Marlowe wrote a great narrative poem, and
-Marlowe was a great dramatist. One of the great _lacunæ_ of
-literature is the play that Chaucer never wrote. Keats in at least
-two notable successes, small in compass but complete, Byron in work
-avowedly narrative in intention but largely lyrical in effect, and
-Scott in admirable stories that lacked something of the finer
-atmosphere of poetry, all made contributions of value to narrative
-poetry; Spenser moves with Milton across the boundary line into the
-region of epic. But until the publication of _Jason_ there had been
-no poet since Chaucer who had produced a considerable volume of work
-at once frankly narrative in form and of indisputable greatness in
-design and achievement. The instinct that had guided Morris safely,
-or nearly so, through his dramatic experiment in his first volume did
-not forsake him when he turned to the creation of a great narrative
-poem, and it was precisely the instinct that was essential to
-success. For narrative is drama without the stage.
-
-The first requirement that we make of the poet in narrative, after
-the paramount demand that he shall recognize this essential canon of
-all art as to the subservience of incident to idea, is that he shall
-be perfectly lucid. Whilst in lyric verse we are content to be
-forced at times to pause for thought and comprehension, in narrative
-verse we insist that we shall instantly perceive. With this
-condition Morris complies triumphantly. In _Jason_, as in the tales
-of _The Earthly Paradise_, there is no necessity to pause at a single
-line. We read with absolute ease from beginning to end, and our
-interest is almost as absolute. Very occasionally the poet errs by
-introducing incidents merely for their own sake without intensifying
-our conception of character, but, with one or two possible
-exceptions, the tales move swiftly and develop on every page. That
-Morris should ever fail in this swiftness of narration is, indeed,
-difficult to believe when we call to mind the innumerable instances
-where he conducts his story at an almost breathless speed. This is
-not to say that he is ever indistinct, either through bad
-craftsmanship or undue compression, but to emphasize his extreme
-reluctance to allow unnecessary events to distract our attention. An
-excellent instance is afforded in _The Ring Given to Venus_.
-Lawrence is told by Palumbus that he must leave him, fast and pray
-for six days, and return to him on the seventh, when he shall learn
-how to accomplish his end--the recovery of his bridal ring. The
-danger at such a juncture is obvious. We dread that the poet shall
-tell us at length of the passing of those six days, of Lawrence's
-impatience and distress, and so forth. That is to say, we should
-dread it of most poets, but, knowing Morris's methods, we feel that
-he will work more wisely, and we are not deceived. Palumbus'
-directions being given, Lawrence and his guide depart--
-
- So homeward doubtful went the twain,
- And Lawrence spent in fear and pain
- The six long days, and so at last,
- When the seventh sun was well-nigh past,
- Came to that dark man's fair abode;
-
-and we are immediately on the full tide of the narrative again.
-
-Morris further achieves that supreme distinction in narrative of
-indicating clearly at the outset what the issue is to be, and yet
-retaining our interest easily and completely. One of the most
-distinguished of living critics[1] has drawn attention to this power
-in Shakespeare; there is no vulgar endeavour to startle us by any
-surprising turns of character; what surprise there is to be will be
-found in the event. So deftly does the greatest of poets embody his
-characters at the moment when he brings them before us that we know
-instinctively how they will act in the events presented to us. In
-the case of Morris this power is, perhaps, even more strongly marked,
-for the reason that the web of circumstance that he folds round his
-people is of a far less subtle texture. It may be said, with but
-little exaggeration, that the sole emotions with which he is
-concerned are the love of man for woman, physical heroism, and the
-worship of external beauty. Again, it must be remembered that the
-simplicity implied by this statement is coloured and invested with
-the mystery of life itself by the temperament through which it is
-presented, but with this vital qualification the fact may be so set
-down. Nearly all his stories are cast in the same general outline:
-the desire of the lover, consummated or defeated only after long
-physical struggle and sacrifice; the inscrutable shadow of death
-looming behind attainment and failure alike; the progress of the
-narrative fashioned on a background where nature and art combine to
-please and soothe with an endless pageant of loveliness. _The Life
-and Death of Jason_ may, perhaps, be advanced as an instance
-disproving this contention, but a moment's reflection shows that the
-central interest of the poem, the interest by the side of which all
-else recedes into the position of that pageantry, is the love of
-Jason and Medea. The quest of the Golden Fleece, the adventures of
-the heroes, the treachery of Pelias, these things, exquisitely
-handled as they are, are but the canvas upon which is thrown a
-sublime and elemental love story. The finest book of the poem, the
-last, wherein is told nothing but the triumph and withering of that
-love, is not only on a level with Morris's own highest achievement,
-but among the supreme things in poetry. The hopeless yet unutterably
-poignant figure of Medea; the tenderness and the untutored simplicity
-of Glance, the child who is the tragic plaything of the deeper and
-more world-beaten natures against whom she is thrown; the desperate
-self-deception of Jason and the terrible degradation of his essential
-nobility--these are drawn with an intensity, at once fierce and
-restrained, that bears witness to the height that narrative poetry
-may attain in the hands of a master.
-
-Not only is the substance of these poems of this transparently simple
-texture, but the form of expression created by Morris is so specially
-fitted for the purpose that the structures as a whole stand almost
-without parallel for precision of outline and clearness of detail.
-He appears to have determined that neither overloading of diction and
-imagery nor intricacy of metrical effect should interfere with the
-conduct of his narrative. Having no superficially subtle or complex
-statement to make, and keeping always before him the purpose to
-produce a memorable cumulative effect without striving at all for
-isolated felicities of phrasing, he is never forced to pause for the
-fitting word. The words that go to the making of a line flow as
-naturally and certainly from his pen as the letters that fashion a
-word from the pen of another. Nowhere are there any signs of labour;
-nowhere the tumultuous glory of language that rushes at times from
-the lips of more variable if not greater poets; and yet, with the
-rarest exceptions, he nowhere descends from his own high level. For
-sheer consistency of excellence he probably has no rival. The
-supremacy of his narrative poems lies in the fact that Morris
-achieved what he attempted completely and with perfect ease. As in
-his life, so in his poetry do we feel that we are in the presence of
-a titanic strength that is never exerting itself to the utmost; and
-we are constantly being led, in consequence, to that exercise of the
-imagination which creates the most potent sympathy between the artist
-and his audience.
-
-I have spoken of a certain easy decorative elaboration that Morris
-uses in these stories, and it is this quality that has led many
-people into a misunderstanding of his poetry. To say that a poet is
-swift in narration does not necessarily mean that his sole purpose is
-to get the story finished in the least possible time, but that the
-narrative is unimpeded at the moments when most we demand its
-progress. To say that this is the only right method would involve
-enquiry into notable instances where it is not employed, which would
-be to digress unduly, but most of Scott's novels might be advanced as
-examples. There we are constantly brought to a standstill at vital
-points in the conduct of the story whilst some thread that has been
-laid aside is again taken up, again to be dropped when it has been
-drawn to a point in common with the rest of the development. This
-Morris never does; the sequence of his narrative is always direct,
-and the crises of his story are always carried through at a stroke.
-But in observing this condition of emphasizing his most momentous
-periods in a perfectly logical continuity and boldness of statement,
-he does not deny himself the right to fill in the spaces between
-those periods with the large ease and contemplative calm which have
-their corresponding manifestations in life. Hannibal was not
-momentarily adding leaves to his laurels. And Jason journeying from
-Thessaly to Colchis finds many adventures, and Morris records them
-with vigour and intensity and the sound of swords; but he finds, too,
-pleasant days of even enjoyment and companionship with his fellows,
-when they move delightedly about a new countryside or see for the
-first time some storied place or gather together to talk of their
-homeland. And these are days that Morris is not at all content to
-leave unsung, and his instinct is perfectly sound. It is strange
-that these lovely interludes that lie between adventure and adventure
-should ever be, as they often are, called "languid." They denote, on
-the contrary, a spiritual activity astonishing in its range and
-sanity. For they imply a recognition on the part of the poet that to
-pass down a river on a golden afternoon, or to lie beneath the stars
-at night, or to move beneath the walls of an unknown city whilst
-memories of home and kin crowd on the mind, is an experience as
-adventurous as the riding of a storm or the winning of a Golden
-Fleece. To be languid is to be indifferent, and indifference in the
-presence of anything not wholly alienated from nature and simple
-humanity was the last thing of which Morris was capable. So that
-when Medea has to go from her home to the wood, the poet is not
-forgetful of the path by which she has to go. His eyes are always
-open.
-
- ... a blind pathway leads
- Betwixt the yellow corn and whispering reeds,
- The home of many a shy quick-diving bird;
- Thereby they passed, and as they went they heard
- Splashing of fish, and ripple of the stream;
- And once they saw across the water's gleam
- The black boat of some fisher of the night....
-
-To travel in the company of one whose senses are so vitally
-responsive to every sound and sight of beauty, to every tremor of
-emotion that may show itself in the people whom we meet on the
-wayside, demands no small spiritual alertness in ourselves. But if
-we fail to keep pace with his glorious and inexhaustible curiosity,
-if our joy is not sane and unjaded as his, it will not mend our case
-to call him languid. It is we who lack energy, not he. Every man is
-quick-witted in the ranks of battle or the sack of cities; the true
-test of his vitality is to see whether he remains so under the
-orchard boughs or in the walk from his doorstep to the market-place.
-Our position in this matter is but the logical issue of a social
-condition against which the whole of Morris's life and art were a
-revolt. Most of us have made the working hours of the day a burden
-to be borne merely for the sake of the wage that follows; the work
-itself is to us no more than a weariness. It is not necessary to
-examine here the economic causes of this result, but the result
-itself is obvious enough. And in consequence we call for the
-intervals between work and work to be filled either by strange
-excitement or sleep. And so we pass from lethargy through more or
-less violent sensations to forgetfulness. Morris would have none of
-this. Work meant for him, as it must mean for us all once more
-before we regain our sanity and wholesomeness, a constant sense of
-joy in self-expression, heightened now and again, as it were, by the
-salt and sting of great adventures. Into this scheme of life are
-admitted seasons of quiet contemplation, of responsiveness to such
-common things as the beauty of the clouds or the soft sound of earth
-breaking to the plough, hours when all the simple and recurrent
-bounties of the day are accepted joyfully and without question. Into
-his poetry Morris translated all these; the great adventures, the
-deep sense of the satisfaction of labour, and the quiet moods. Our
-faculties may be so weakened that they are stirred by the great
-adventures alone; but it is no fault of the poet's if we confuse his
-calm and reflective exaltation with our own lethargy.
-
-In speaking of the _Guenevere_ volume it was necessary to examine the
-poems more or less in detail and separately, for they were the
-changing expressions of a creative mind not yet sure of itself, of a
-temperament that had not yet found its philosophic moorings.
-Throughout _The Life and Death of Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_,
-however, we have a unity of vision, a gathering up of all things into
-the terms of one personal reading of life, that make it possible to
-speak of them more generally and with less qualification from word to
-word. Having defined the nature of the form that Morris was using in
-these poems and his particular manner of handling it, we may try to
-realize the view of the world that he was seeking to present. We may
-pass from the announcement to the discovery itself. Morris in his
-poetry simplified his aim enormously by steadily eliminating two
-things--enquiry into the unknown, and all endeavour to 'set the
-crooked straight.' When he called himself 'Dreamer of dreams born
-out of my due time' and asked 'Why should I strive to set the crooked
-straight?' he was not, again let it be said, refusing to face the
-world about him, but announcing that as poet his concern was not to
-destroy but to create. And whatever good results might attend the
-speculation of others as to death and the secret purposes of God, he
-felt that for him, at least, it was unprofitable employment. The
-issue of this purpose is that we have a world wherein all the simple
-but positive things stand out shining in the light of a
-highly-organized creative temperament, undimmed by questioning doubt
-on the one hand or a cloud of superficial intricacies of circumstance
-on the other. In his later socialist teaching Morris sought in some
-means to show how these intricacies might be cleared away in
-practice, but in his poetry he presupposes a life where the natural
-impulses of men are unfettered by all save eternal circumstance. His
-philosophy becomes one of extraordinary directness and simplicity,
-and yet it retains everything by which the spirit and body of man
-really have their being. To love, and if needs be to battle for
-love, to labour and find labour the one unchanging delight, to be
-intimate with all the moods and seasons of earth, to be generous
-alike in triumph and defeat, to fear death and yet to be heroic in
-the fear, to be the heirs of sin and sorrow in so far as these things
-were the outcome of events that were permanent and not ephemeral in
-their nature--of such did he conceive the state of men to be in the
-earthly paradise that he was tying to create in his art. We are yet
-far from realizing the state. The din of the thousand claims of the
-crooked to be set straight is loud in our ears, and the cleansing of
-the moment must be done. But not until we can accustom ourselves to
-the thought that this state is, if not yet realized, at least
-realizable, can we hope to work out any salvation for ourselves or
-the world. We suffer daily from a neglect of the positive and
-creative for the negative and destructive. In England the symbols of
-our national thought are curiously expressive of this fact. We
-decorate and honour our soldiers whose business, be it to destroy or
-to be destroyed, is, in any case, connected with destruction; those
-of our lawyers who are chiefly concerned with restraint and
-punishment; our politicians who spend their time protecting us from
-assaults of neighbours and communities as commercially rapacious as
-ourselves, or, in their more enlightened moments, in adjusting wrongs
-that are the dregs in the cup of civilization. The functions of
-these men may be necessities of society, but they nevertheless apply
-to the small negative aspect of our state and not the great normal
-life. It is that which is, rightly, the concern of our creative
-artists; but our creative artists are not decorated and honoured by
-the nation as such. Occasionally when Europe has insisted long
-enough on the presence of a great artist among us, we make some
-belated recognition of the fact, and occasionally we become
-sentimental and throw a few pounds a year to a poet whom we refuse to
-pay proper wages for his work. This of course does not injure the
-artist, but it is all very eloquent as to the frame of our national
-mind. However many noble individual exceptions there may be, the
-fact remains that nationally we acclaim the negative and neglect the
-positive manifestations of man. Morris's art was, implicitly, a
-challenge to this temper and a means of escape from it. For, despite
-all the clamour that the good and evil voices of the destroyers make,
-we are ultimately forced back to the admission that they fill only a
-very small corner of our lives. The daily charities and heroisms,
-the discipline of fellowship and love, the worship of beauty and the
-pride of shaping with hand and brain, are all independent of them,
-and they are the justification of life. If we have crowded them out
-of our daily courses, then it is for the poets to lead us back to
-them. This they do most certainly, not by denouncing us for our
-folly or reviling the evil to which we have fallen, but by showing
-us, in being, our lost estate. This Morris did, and to understand
-this is to understand the root and flower of his philosophy as poet.
-
-It is not to be supposed that the world of Morris's poetry is a world
-purged of error. He did not imagine an ideal humanity, but a
-humanity drawn from all the finer phases of experience, its vision
-free of the veils of a highly artificial social state. It is a
-common thing to hear people express surprise that men who behave
-towards each other with bitter animosity in business or official or
-political life are on generous and friendly terms in their homes or
-in what is called private life, and the solution is generally offered
-that whilst they differ fiercely on profoundly vital subjects, they
-can afford to be tolerant and even generous to each other in less
-important matters. The solution is, of course, as far astray from
-facts as it could be. The truth is that in the conduct of the things
-that are of permanent significance these men behave to each other
-generally with the innate nobility of humanity, and at times with
-humanity's natural imperfection. There is among them a deep sense of
-comradeship and common delight, broken only at times by the reaction
-of emotions not yet wholly chastened, expressing itself in a
-violation of conflicting interests. But when these same men are
-brought into contact in surroundings compact of that artificiality of
-which I have spoken, those surroundings create a hundred new and
-shifting standards, and with them as many strange little jealousies
-and rancours which are stifled immediately simple humanity is once
-again allowed its proper dominion. The sin and the sorrow that are
-the issue of this imperfection in humanity Morris uses at their full
-and tragic values in his poetry, but to the nervous irritation which
-is as some new disease which we have invented for ourselves unaided
-by the gods he paid no heed. This is why his poetry, all its
-vitality and strength notwithstanding, is so peaceful. His people
-may suffer great troubles and deal hard blows, love passionately and
-lose fiercely, but at no time do they move with the confused unrest
-of men who are never sure of themselves, having between their vision
-and the world a thousand petty accidents of will. They are
-deep-lunged, but they never babble and chatter; they have enormous
-energy but are never restless.
-
-As though to emphasize the singleness of his aim in these poems,
-Morris uses the simplest verse-forms. _Jason_ is written in heroic
-couplets, the prologue and seven tales of _The Earthly Paradise_ in
-the same measure, seven tales in octosyllabic couplets and ten in
-seven-lined Chaucerian stanzas. Metrical experiments occasionally
-make some definite addition to poetry, but they more often result in
-mere formlessness. The wide acceptance of certain forms by the poets
-through centuries of practice does not point to any lack of invention
-or weak servility on the part of the poets, but to some inherent
-fitness in the forms. Tradition is a fetter only to the weak; it is
-the privilege of the sovereign poet to invest it with his own
-personality and make it distinctively his own. From Marlowe down to
-Mr. Yeats the heroic couplet has been a new vehicle in the hands of
-new poets, and its vigour is unimpaired. Morris in accepting proved
-forms merely accepted the responsibility of proving himself. The
-result is never for a moment in doubt--his use of the ten and eight
-syllable line and the stanza that he took from his master is as
-clearly pervaded by his own temperament as is his vision itself. It
-is one of the subtlest faculties of genius, this shaping of a manner
-which shall chime exactly with mood and emotional outlook. Just as
-Shakespeare's expression is prodigal in strength and variety, and
-Milton's full of weight and dignity, and Pope's marked at all points
-by precision, and Shelley's by a wild and fluctuating speed, so
-Morris's is everywhere animated by a pure and virile loveliness and
-an all-suffusing sense of pity. His utterance is in perfect harmony
-with his spiritual temper. We have seen that whilst he accepts the
-tragedy of the world at its full value as something fundamental and
-inseparable from humanity, he rejects the mere ugliness of the world
-as being an artificial product of an abnormal state. And so, when he
-has to write of a dead woman lying in a peasant's hut in all the
-circumstances of extreme poverty, he does so with tragic intensity
-whilst eliminating all the inessential ugliness. Poverty as we know
-it in our civilization makes an unlovely bedfellow for death, yet
-Morris shows it to us with a precision almost fierce in its fidelity
-to truth, yet beautiful because concerned with the simple and
-essential only--
-
- On straw the poor dead woman lay;
- The door alone let in the day,
- Showing the trodden earthen floor,
- A board on trestles weak and poor,
- Three stumps of tree for stool or chair,
- A half-glazed pipkin, nothing fair,
- A bowl of porridge by the wife,
- Untouched by lips that lacked for life,
- A platter and a bowl of wood;
- And in the further corner stood
- A bow cut from the wych-elm tree,
- A holly club and arrows three
- Ill pointed, heavy, spliced with thread.
-
-This passage is a typical example of Morris's manner. It shows the
-occasional hastiness of composition that is found at intervals
-throughout his work; 'door' and 'board' in the second and fourth
-lines strike unpleasingly on the ear that is carrying the rhyme
-'floor--poor.' But it also shows the individuality with which Morris
-handles at all times a well-tried measure; it shows, too, the ease
-with which he conveys a certain atmospheric significance apart from
-his actual statement, and, finally, it shows his exquisite sense of
-word-values and his extraordinary power of visualization. No poet
-has given more beautiful expression to the sensuous delight of the
-eye than Morris, and even here, where the mood is one of profound
-sorrow, the thing seen is described with a sweetness and naturalness
-that makes it bearable; indeed, more than bearable, something that we
-gladly remember. In this matter Morris, as we should expect, worked
-always in the greatest tradition of art; his most terrible and tragic
-moments are never moments that we wish to forget.
-
-In a paper called _Churches of Northern France_ that Morris
-contributed to "The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine," he talks about
-Amiens Cathedral. He imagines it first as it would look from one of
-the steeples of the town. 'It rises up from the ground, grey from
-the paving of the street, the cavernous porches of the west front
-opening wide, and marvellous with the shadows of the carving you can
-only guess at; and above stand the kings, and above that you would
-see the twined mystery of the great flamboyant rose window with its
-thousand openings, and the shadows of the flower-work carved round
-it; then the grey towers and gable, grey against the blue of the
-August sky; and behind them all, rising high into the quivering air,
-the tall spire over the crossing.' And then again, as you approach,
-'the great apse rises over you with its belt of eastern chapel; first
-the long slim windows of these chapels, which are each of them little
-apses, the Lady Chapel projecting a good way beyond the rest; and
-then, running under the cornice of the chapels and outer aisles all
-round the church, a cornice of great noble leaves; then the parapets
-in changing flamboyant patterns; then the conical roofs of the
-chapels hiding the exterior tracery of the triforium; then the great
-clerestory windows, very long, of four lights, and stilted, the
-tracery beginning a long way below the springing of their arches.
-And the buttresses are so thick, and their arms spread so here, that
-each of the clerestory windows looks down its own space between them
-as if between walls. Above the windows rise their canopies running
-through the parapet; and above all the great mountainous roof, and
-all below it and around the windows and walls of the choir and apse
-stands the mighty army of the buttresses, holding up the weight of
-the stone roof within with their strong arms for ever.' Then, having
-set down the cumulative effect of the great Gothic structure in these
-few strokes, he goes on to examine the beauties of its detail, the
-carving on the screens and doors, the figures on the tombs, the
-mouldings and little stories in stone, all of them the vital
-expressions of the joy of some nameless craftsman in his work. Apart
-from the side light that these descriptions throw on Morris's view of
-art, we are reminded as we read them of the architectural design of
-_The Earthly Paradise_. It has precisely the qualities of a Gothic
-cathedral. The whole scheme of the poem, which contrives the
-alternate narration of stories drawn from classic and romantic
-sources, carrying the process along the months of the year and
-setting the whole in a purely lyrical framework, results in a massive
-general effect which must be once seen before we can wholly realize
-the beauty of the stories by themselves. But once seen it is never
-forgotten, and afterwards we are content to return again and again to
-the detail, as certain of finding satisfaction in any of the single
-stories on which we may chance as we are in the tracery of the
-cloisters or the devices on the stalls of a Gothic church. It is, of
-course, the peculiar glory of Gothic--or romantic--art, that while
-the parts combine to make a whole more wonderful than themselves,
-they yet have an independent beauty and completeness of their own.
-Morris in writing his tales was careful never to sacrifice his
-general outline for the sake of momentary effects, but each story is
-complete in itself and separable from the rest.
-
-Although it is to be accounted as a virtue to Morris that he never
-sought to decorate his verse with jewels that should distract
-attention from the whole texture, it must always be remembered that
-he was absolved from the necessity of doing this because the texture
-itself was of extraordinary richness and shot with a hundred colours.
-The first and most obvious danger in a long narrative poem is that
-many passages which are concerned with the mere statement of fact
-necessary to the progress of the story will not be poetry at all.
-But moving always, as it were, in the open country of the world, away
-from everything that is not intimately related to that simplicity of
-life that has been discussed, Morris is never forced to conduct his
-people over moments that are fundamentally incapable of poetic
-treatment. Their most commonplace actions are still carried through
-with the vividness that comes of a constant joy in labour and direct
-contact with the earth. A journey means the building of a boat and
-shaping of oars, and a loaf of bread is the direct witness of corn
-harvested and ground, and wood gathered for the fire. An instance
-may be taken almost at random: Jason and his warriors find that their
-progress is stopped, and that their ship must be borne across the
-land. It is just such a moment as might, in the hands of a poet who
-was only anxious to get the matter done to comply with the
-necessities of his narrative, sink from poetry altogether. This is
-how Morris manages it:--
-
- And there all,
- Half deafened by the noises of the fall
- And bickering rapids, left the ashen oar,
- And spreading over the well-wooded shore
- Cut rollers, laying on full many a stroke,
- And made a capstan of a mighty oak,
- And so drew Argo up, with hale and how,
- On to the grass, turned half to mire now.
- Thence did they toil their best, in drawing her
- Beyond the falls, whereto being come anear,
- They trembled when they saw them; for from sight
- The rocks were hidden by the spray-clouds white,
- Cold, wretched, chilling, and the mighty sound
- Their heavy-laden hearts did sore confound;
- For parted from all men they seemed, and far
- From all the world, shut out by that great bar.
- Moreover, when with toil and pain, at last
- Unto the torrent's head they now had passed,
- They sent forth swift Ætalides to see
- What farther up the river there might be.
- Who, going twenty leagues, another fall
- Found, with great cliffs on each side, like a wall;
- But 'twixt the two, another unbarred stream
- Joined the main river; therefore did they deem,
- When this they heard, that they perforce must try
- This smoother branch; so somewhat heavily
- Argo they launched again, and got them forth
- Still onward toward the winter and the north.
-
-This is writing on a level below which Morris never falls, and it is
-yet on the side of poetry. It is possible for the artist's
-temperament to throw beauty on to an object in itself unlovely, and
-the result is often some confusion of mind as to the real source of
-the beauty. Mr. Brangwyn can draw men stripped to the waist toiling
-in the inferno of a black-country iron-works, and his creation is
-beautiful. Emile Verhaeren can strike a song out of the utter
-degradation of humanity: but the essential poetry in each case is in
-the soul of the artist and not in the subject of his contemplation.
-If our knowledge of the ironworks rested wholly on Mr. Brangwyn's
-report we might well believe that it really was strangely and
-strongly beautiful. But if we really know the iron works itself, we
-know that it is hideously ugly, using men half as beasts, half as
-machines, choking the air and wounding the earth, a thing definitely
-unpoetic because definitely a denial of life. Morris worked in quite
-another manner. Instead of lending ugliness the undeserved beauty
-and colour of his own temperament, he stripped all things that came
-into his vision of all that was inessential, all the excrescences of
-accident and will, and then allowed them in their renewed simplicity
-to find natural and direct expression. The result is that although
-it may be true to say that Morris has fewer single lines which are
-memorable if detached from their context than any other poet at all
-comparable to him in achievement, it is equally true to say that he
-stands alone in the creation of a great body of work that moves
-consistently and surely on the plane of poetry from first to last
-with scarcely a single lapse. No poet has ever had a more infallible
-instinct as to what was and what was not of the stuff of poetry.
-
-With _Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_, Morris establishes his claim
-to greatness. The height of his power is not yet reached, but here
-already we have a breadth of design, an intensity of perception, and
-a sureness of utterance about which there can be no question. Not
-only does he prove himself to be a narrative poet of the first rank,
-but in the songs and interludes he attains a sweetness and tenderness
-which if not matchless are certainly not surpassed. Things like--
-
- I know a little garden close
- Set thick with lily and red rose,--
-
-and
-
- Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing--
-
-and
-
- O June, O June, that we desired so,
- Wilt thou not make us happy on this day?--
-
---it is, indeed, unnecessary to add example to example--are of the
-highest order of lyric poetry. The lusty strength and naked passion
-of _Sigurd the Volsung_ are as yet unattempted at any sustained
-pressure, but in all other respects the achievement of _Jason_ and
-_The Earthly Paradise_ is complete and representative. Remembering
-Pope's "awful Aristarch"--
-
- Thy mighty Scholiast, whose unweary'd pains
- Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains.
- Turn what they will to Verse, their toil is vain,
- Critics like me shall make it Prose again--
-
-I have refrained from any attempt to re-tell the stories that must be
-read as Morris told them or not at all. It has been my purpose
-rather to hold for a moment in trembling hands the spirit that is in
-them and that went to their creation.
-
-At the time of publication of the last volume of _The Earthly
-Paradise_, Morris had begun the study of Icelandic story that was to
-find its splendid culmination six years later in _Sigurd the
-Volsung_. The history of these beginnings will be told more fitly
-later in connection with the consideration of that poem. The
-completion of his great cycle of tales left him momentarily with a
-sense of purposelessness. 'I feel rather lost at having done my
-book,' he writes. 'I must try to get something serious to do as soon
-as may be ... perhaps something else of importance will turn up
-soon.' He turned again to painting, and occupied some of his time in
-book-illumination, an art in which he attained a perfection no less
-memorable than that of the mediæval masters. The business of Morris
-and Company was developing rapidly, and in 1871 he found a new
-interest in Kelmscott House, the old manor in Oxfordshire that was to
-be his country home until his death. The abiding pleasure that his
-retreat afforded him has been beautifully pictured for us in Mr.
-Mackail's "Life." In the same year he made his first journey to
-Iceland, and on his return he wrote the poem, which is next to be
-considered, _Love is Enough_.
-
-
-[1] Mr. Stopford Brooke.
-
-
-
-
-V
-
-LOVE IS ENOUGH AND SIGURD THE VOLSUNG
-
-Discipleship in art is a thing very commonly misunderstood. The poet
-with centuries of activity behind him will inevitably find in this
-voice or that an expression with which his own temperament is in more
-or less direct sympathy, and, if his nature be not cramped, he will
-make full acknowledgment of the fact. But this loving recognition of
-fellowship has nothing whatever to do with imitation. In demanding
-originality of the poet we do not expect him to sing as though he
-moved in an untrodden world. We might as reasonably ask each man to
-invent a new speech; we should be doing no more than carrying our
-demand to its logical issue. We insist, and rightly, that the poet
-shall interpret experience for us in the terms of his own
-personality, but we must remember that the work of his predecessors
-is an enormously important part of experience, and when he finds some
-aspect of that work in correspondence with his own adventures he
-will, quite naturally, take it up in some measure into his own
-creation. Confusion in this matter has led to considerable injustice
-in many estimates of Morris. His repeated announcements of Chaucer
-as his master and his open allegiance throughout his life to certain
-phases of mediæval art, have caused it to be said that his mood and
-expression are alike archaic, the word being used to mean obsolete.
-As to the mood, the suggestion is so preposterous as to be unworthy
-of an answer; it is obsolete just in so far as the fundamental things
-of life are obsolete. As to expression, Morris's free use of such
-words as 'certes,' 'Fair sir,' 'I trow,' and so forth is supposed to
-lend support to the suggestion. It does nothing of the kind, of
-course. Morris uses these words not for their especial value, but as
-simply and naturally as he does the common parts of speech. The
-words in themselves are perfectly fit for use in poetry, and the
-discredit into which they may have fallen is entirely due to inferior
-writers who have sought to make them in themselves substitutes for
-poetry. To rule that their abuse henceforth makes their proper use
-impossible is, however, absurd. It may be discreet in a poet to-day
-to avoid nymphs and Diana and the pipes of Pan, but to say beforehand
-that his traffic with these will be disastrous is merely to lay
-ourselves open to the most salutary correction at any moment. Morris
-used words such as those of which I have spoken without hesitation,
-but he always subordinated them to their right offices, and their
-influence in either direction upon his general manner is negligible.
-
-This question arises more naturally in the discussion of _Love is
-Enough_ than elsewhere. Superficially the play may be said to be an
-attempt to reconstruct the spirit and, in a smaller degree, the form
-of the early English morality, but close consideration of the play
-necessitates qualification of this statement at almost every step.
-The resemblance in form is to be found not in the structure but in
-the alliterative verse that Morris uses for the central action of the
-play. But even in the verse there are qualities that belong to
-Morris alone; he not only discarded rhyme, which was employed by Bale
-and the unknown poets of an earlier day in their interludes and
-mysteries, but he brought to his lines a greater regularity and
-fulness. The pauses that play so important a part in the early
-alliterative verse are replaced by syllabic values, and the
-shortening of lines is far less arbitrary than in his models. The
-result, especially of the added fulness, is that a certain bare
-simplicity is lost, and curiously enough this poem, where he was
-influenced by a form that with all its faults has an extraordinary
-directness and incisiveness of statement, is the most difficult among
-all his works to read. The long lines with their constant tightening
-up of syllables are frequently too heavy for the statement. Many
-passages are of great beauty, as for example:--
-
- As my twin sister, young of years was she and slender,
- Yellow blossoms of spring-tide her hands had been gathering,
- But the gown-lap that held them had fallen adown
- And had lain round her feet with the first of the singing;
- Now her singing had ceased, though yet heaved her bosom
- As with lips lightly parted and eyes of one seeking
- She stood face to face with the Love that she knew not,
- The love that she longed for and waited unwitting...
-
-and there are numberless lines where the precision of statement is
-admirable, as--
-
- In memory of days when my meat was but little
- And my drink drunk in haste between saddle and straw...
-
-and
-
- I saw her
- Stealing barefoot, bareheaded amidst of the tulips
- Made grey by the moonlight...
-
-but the experiment in a form that is not now, after four centuries of
-development, really natural to the language is, on the whole, a
-failure. It is, indeed, true that as we read through it the measure
-becomes more acceptable to the ear, but there is a difficulty in the
-outline which no familiarity can wholly overcome.
-
-The structure of the play is mainly of Morris's own invention, and is
-of singular beauty. The figure of Love, who may be said to
-correspond roughly to the Doctor or Messenger of the early
-moralities, stands, not between the action and the audience, but
-between the action and the people of an outer play; and, again,
-beyond this we have a further group. The structure is, briefly,
-this. The morality itself; Love and The Music who act as spiritual
-interpreters and as chorus between the action and the Emperor and
-Empress for whom the townsfolk are having the play performed; and
-finally the peasants Giles and Joan who are equally interested in the
-play and its imaginary spectators, translate the spiritual
-commentaries of Love and The Music into terms of their own simple
-workaday existence, and, lastly, act in some sort as chorus between
-the whole representation and the actual audience. There is a
-subtlety of design in all this that reaches far beyond the
-conceptions of the sombre and rugged poets of pre-Shakespearean
-England, and although the play fails in other respects, Morris here
-shows more clearly even than in _Sir Peter Harpdon's End_ that he
-understood the exact meaning of the element contributed by the chorus
-to drama more fully than any poet of recent times.
-
-In the central action, the morality itself, there are three principal
-figures, Pharamond the King, Oliver his old counsellor and
-foster-father, and Azalais. Morris retains the method of his models
-in that these figures are not characters but rather abstractions.
-Pharamond is not so much a man as mankind, Everyman. Oliver is much
-more definitely a personality, but he is used as a symbol of the
-better nature of man, not able quite to understand spiritual
-nobility, but content, even eager, to follow it. Azalais is Love,
-both giving and taking. The motive of the play is stated clearly in
-the title, Love is Enough. Pharamond leaves kingship, fame,
-everything, and sets out to find this thing only, and in finding it
-proves and finds himself. But we must return to the motive a little
-later. The point next to be considered is this symbolic use of
-figures in action. The method of the old poets was to invest these
-figures at the outset with a certain presupposed and generally
-accepted significance, and to start from that point. They did not
-attempt to explain what Luxury, Riot, Riches, Knowledge, Humility and
-Charity were, but simply gave these names to their figures and
-trusted their audience to fill in the outlines. Then taking a
-central figure as protagonist, Everyman or Youth or some such symbol,
-they brought him into contact with the rest and allowed all the
-emotion of the play to arise out of the transition of his moods as he
-is influenced by them in turn. There is never the least doubt as to
-the lines along which each of these figures will work; they carry
-their natures in their names. We know that Pride will betray Youth
-as surely as we know that his Knowledge and Good Deeds alone will
-bide with Everyman. But there is nothing dramatic in the spectacle
-of Pride forsaking Youth until we see the complementary loyalty of
-Charity and Humility, and we are moved by the tenderness of Good
-Deeds and Knowledge towards Everyman simply because we have just seen
-Strength and Beauty desert him in his need. These transitions of
-mood are carried through with consistent swiftness and are defined by
-the direct contact of the figures, not by reflective comment, or only
-so in a subordinate degree. _Everyman_, which is the crown of these
-early plays, realizes these conditions most perfectly. The
-protagonist is commanded to make his reckoning before God. He asks
-Fellowship to accompany him on his journey through Death's gates.
-Fellowship refuses, and so in turn do Goods, Kindred, Strength,
-Discretion, Five Wits, and the rest of them, as we knew they would.
-Then he is aided by Knowledge, Good Deeds and Confession, and sets
-out content. Save for the few speeches that summarize the situation
-from time to time, there is absolutely no comment on the development
-of the play; the whole effect depends on the swift passage from one
-crude symbol to another. Within its own limitations, this simple
-method not only succeeded in holding the audience for whom it was
-first employed, but is completely effective to-day. The Elizabethan
-drama threw it aside to make room for its own greater glories, but it
-is not impossible that a great poet should yet return to it, and with
-the accumulated wisdom of the poets who have worked since then in his
-blood, refashion it into something of a strange new beauty. In _Love
-is Enough_ Morris adopted it only to a point, and failed in
-consequence. He set out to enunciate a definite lesson, and he
-invested his figures with symbolic significance, but he carried the
-method no further. Pharamond, instead of passing swiftly from stage
-to stage in pursuit of his end and showing us that love is enough,
-pauses for long periods to tell us that love is enough. His speeches
-are, generally, lyrical developments of one theme, and wholly
-beautiful as many of them are as such they destroy the cohesion of
-the play as a whole. The design of _Love is Enough_ is no wider in
-its scope than that of "Everyman," indeed not so wide, and yet the
-play is, roughly, three times as long. I am not, of course,
-attempting any comparison of the spirit of the two plays; there is no
-point at which this is possible; my comparison is merely between the
-uses to which they employ the same method.
-
-Herein, it seems to me, lies the failure of _Love is Enough_ in so
-far as it is a failure at all. The central part of the design is so
-carried out as to disturb the general balance. It was not necessary
-for Morris to choose this particular form for his inner play, but
-having done so he was mistaken in not observing its principles more
-closely. But, having said this, it is necessary to add that in many
-ways _Love is Enough_ stands with Morris's finest achievements in
-poetry. In the morality of Pharamond itself, and apart from all
-difficulties of the verse-form, there is love-poetry that is scarcely
-to be surpassed in its depth and tenderness. In this play Morris
-departed from his usual ways. His narrative and epic writing and his
-lyrics have nothing of that didacticism which if not essential is at
-least proper to the greatest art. Art confesses to no limitations.
-In _Love is Enough_, however, he allowed himself this new privilege,
-and he translates his teaching into art with perfect instinct. Here,
-as throughout his work, it is impossible to point to any passage and
-say, "that is not poetry," and yet speech after speech is as
-specifically didactic as the Sermon on the Mount. In the words of
-Pharamond, in the stately heroic couplets spoken by Love, and in the
-exquisite stanzas of The Music he pursues the same theme, and over
-and over again he carries it to a sublime pitch of intensity.
-
- What, Faithful--do I lie, that overshot
- My dream-web is with that which happeneth not?
- Nay, nay, believe it not!--love lies alone
- In loving hearts like fire within the stone:
- Then strikes my hand, and lo, the flax ablaze!
- --Those tales of empty striving and lost days
- Folk tell of sometimes--never lit my fire
- Such ruin as this; but Pride and Vain-desire,
- My counterfeits and foes, have done the deed.
- Beware, Beloved! for they sow the weed
- Where I the wheat: they meddle where I leave,
- Take what I scorn, cast by what I receive,
- Sunder my yoke, yoke that I would dissever,
- Pull down the house my hands would build for ever.
-
-
-In this poem, too, we find the isolated instances wherein Morris
-makes some allusion to the desire for seeing beyond the veils of our
-existence, some suggestion of the hope of spring when leaves are
-falling. Even here there is none of the exultant certainty of the
-_Ode to the West Wind_, but a quiet fearlessness that is no less
-inspiring and consoling in its way--
-
- Live on, for Love liveth, and earth shall be shaken
- By the wind of his wings on the triumphing morning,
- When the dead and their deeds that die not shall awaken,
- And the world's tale shall sound in your trumpet of warning,
- And the sun smite the banner called Scorn of the Scorning,
- And dead pain ye shall trample, dead fruitless desire,
- As ye wend to pluck out the new world from the fire.
-
-And again--
-
- In what wise, ah, in what wise shall it be?
- How shall the bark that girds the winter tree
- Babble about the sap that sleeps beneath,
- And tell the fashion of its life and death?
- How shall my tongue in speech man's longing wrought
- Tell of the things whereof he knoweth nought?
- Should I essay it might ye understand
- How those I love shall share my promised land!
- Then must I speak of little things as great,
- Then must I tell of love and call it hate,
- Then must I bid you seek what all men shun,
- Reward defeat, praise deeds that were not done.
-
-
-The Emperor and Empress who watch the play point its moral for
-themselves, and their somewhat remote humanity serves admirably as a
-step between the pure poetry of the central action and the homespun
-reality of Giles and Joan. They send gifts to the actors of
-Pharamond and Azalais, and then the Emperor--
-
- Fain had I been
- To see him face to face and his fair Queen,
- And thank him friendly, asking him maybe
- How the world looks to one with love set free;
- It may not be, for as thine eyes say, sweet,
- Few folk as friends shall unfreed Pharamond meet.
- So is it: we are lonelier than those twain,
- Though from their vale they ne'er depart again.
-
-But Giles and his wife are under no such restraint of state; they
-will bid the players to their home and be their scholars for a while
-
- In many a lesson of sweet lore
- To learn love's meaning more and more,
-
-and the scene between the two peasants that ends the play is an idyll
-full of the simple fragrance and humanity and earth-love that were
-the crowning splendours of _Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_.
-
-In 1869 the poet had published his translation of the _Grettir Saga_,
-carried out in collaboration with Eiríkr Magnússon, and this was
-followed in the next year by the _Völsunga Saga_ from the same hands.
-Morris's feeling for the northern stories had already found
-expression in more than one of the tales in _The Earthly Paradise_,
-notably 'The Lovers of Gudrun,' and the Icelandic visit of 1871 was
-followed by a second in 1873. In 1875 he published _Three Northern
-Love Stories_, translations of extraordinary directness and
-conviction, and these six years of study of and service to the
-curiously neglected story of the northern race were now approaching
-their culminating triumph. To examine these various preliminary
-essays in detail here is neither possible nor necessary. The
-journals of the travel in Iceland, written as they were without any
-definite purpose of publication, show how intensely he was moved by
-the spirit of the Sagas, how close his own being was to it. Every
-stone was quick with a tradition that meant for him the very breath
-of splendid and heroic life. His feeling for the earth was at all
-times, as we have seen, one of an almost indefinable tenderness and
-yearning, but once he had seen Iceland it was the earth that
-nourished Sigurd and Brynhild and Gunnar and Gudrun that was
-thenceforth most deeply rooted in his love. The austere beauty and
-gloomy strength of the Icelandic countryside were from that time
-sacred things in his imagination, and it was, perhaps, not without
-taking thought that in the first poem that he wrote on his return he
-made Pharamond, when trying to recall the country to which he must
-again turn to find the end of his seeking, say that
-
- ever meseemeth
- 'Twas not in the Southlands.
-
-
-In the preface to the translation of the _Völsunga Saga_, the last
-paragraph says:--
-
-
- 'In conclusion, we must again say how strange it seems to us,
- that this Volsung Tale, which is in fact a universified poem,
- should never have been translated into English. For this is the
- Great Story of the North, which should be to all our race what
- the Tale of Troy was to the Greeks--to all our race first, and
- afterwards, when the change of the world has made our race
- nothing more than the name of what has been--a story too--then
- should it be to those that came after us no less than the Tale of
- Troy has been to us.'
-
-
-That was in 1870. Now, five years later, with the whole story
-matured in his mind, with its appeal quickened by the exploration of
-its landscape, he determined to gather up its essential features and
-fuse them through his own temperament into a new completeness both of
-substance and music. It was a tremendous undertaking, both in its
-actual difficulties and its responsibility. Morris was not likely to
-hesitate before the difficulties, but he realized perfectly the
-danger of attempting to reshape a story which, as it stood, he
-reverenced as the greatest in the world. To have done it ill or in
-any way other than excellently would have been an unpardonable sin
-against himself. The risk was taken, and _The Story of Sigurd_, _The
-Volsung_, and the _Fall of the Niblungs_ was published in 1876. It
-is not only the supreme achievement of a great poet, but one of the
-very great poems of the modern world.
-
-The story of Sigurd, showing in the beginning the Volsung heritage to
-which he is born and in the end the fall of the Niblung house that
-comes of his death, with his life set between these, satisfies the
-requirements of epic poetry as, perhaps, does no other. We have the
-first necessities of architectural form satisfied--the beginning, the
-development, the close. Then in the main theme, the life of Sigurd,
-we have a story of men and women living under normal conditions.
-They are, indeed, the conditions of a heroic world, but the central
-events of the tale are controlled not by abnormal circumstance or
-artificial conditions, but by fundamental human emotions. Behind
-these events we have a landscape that is in direct imaginative
-correspondence with the character of the people--that has gone to the
-shaping of this character. This is a matter of peculiar importance.
-When, in poetry, the scene of action moves freely from one country to
-another, as it does, for example, in "Childe Harold," the landscape
-becomes merely an ornament, but when the scene is fixed and the
-characters move consistently in their own homeland, then the
-landscape becomes a corporate part of the poem's significance.
-Sigurd would be the less Sigurd away from his grey mountains and
-unpeopled heaths and the dusk of his pine-woods. And then finally we
-have the will set over man's will suffusing the whole in the
-intangible yet tremendous sense of Fate, the Wrath and Sorrow of Odin.
-
-It has been said that in opening the poem with the tale of Sigmund,
-Sigurd's father, and the destruction of the Volsungs Morris
-imperilled the unity of his epic, if indeed he did not destroy it.
-When a critic of Mr. Mackail's distinction and proved insight makes a
-pronouncement we can differ from him only with the greatest respect,
-and knowing that ultimately these things are not fixed, being
-variable as men's understandings. It seems to me, then, that this
-first book, called Sigmund, is the inevitable opening of the epic of
-Sigurd. Not because, as another critic suggests, it forms a
-background of mystery and heroic terror upon which to throw the more
-human story that follows, but because it introduces the whole motive
-of that story. One does not wish to stray into polemics, but here
-again I must dissent from another writer, Miss May Morris, and again
-I do so with full appreciation of the value of those introductions of
-which I have already spoken. Miss Morris also points out that this
-first book 'introduces the very motive of the epic,' but she
-identifies that motive with the Wrath and Sorrow of Odin. But the
-motive is in reality the splendid survival of one brand plucked from
-the ashes of the Volsung house; the avenging, not in blood, but in
-the one swift arc of Sigurd's heroic life in a world wherein he
-stands magnificently alone, of the Volsung name. The sense of Fate,
-the wide horizons, the sinister figure of Grimhild and the terrors of
-the Glittering Heath are all alike influences that work upon the
-shaping of this central theme, and to confuse them with the motive
-itself makes it impossible to see clearly the rightful place of the
-book of Sigmund in the poem. It is there that the disaster, the
-catastrophe, of which Sigurd's passage from birth to death is the
-compensation and adjustment is set forth, and without it, it seems to
-me, the epic unity of the poem would not have been intensified, but
-made impossible.
-
-There is, however, a difficulty of another kind in this opening book.
-The quality of all others in the _Völsunga Saga_ that fits it for the
-highest poetry is its elemental humanity, and it was this that
-stirred Morris most deeply and inspired his most memorable work, here
-as elsewhere. The Sigmund Story of the Saga, however, is as much
-savage as human, and savage not with the primal fierceness of man but
-with the terrible and implacable caprice of a malign, or at least
-inhuman Fate. Here, as later in the poem, that Fate is embodied in
-the figure of Odin, but there is a profound difference. When Sigurd
-has slain Fafnir and found Brynhild on Hindfell, the humanity of the
-story reacts perfectly clearly upon the Fate that overshadows all.
-The Fate loses none of its power, but it is humanized, mellowed, and
-as it were made tolerable by taking into itself something of the
-human spirit of love. In the Sigmund book there is none of this,
-and, indeed, the same is to be said of the second book called Regin.
-Until Sigurd himself begins to control the story, the characters are
-in constant peril of being swung out of their courses by some fierce
-stroke of the gods, meaningless and wholly unrelated to anything in
-themselves. It is a supportable argument to advance that this
-happens in life, but the answer is that it should not happen in great
-art. Morris's difficulty was, of course, that he was loth to
-interfere with the story as it came to him in the Saga, but I cannot
-help feeling that he here allowed his loyalty in some measure to
-betray his artistic instinct. It was just one of those supreme
-difficulties that face only the men who are attempting supreme ends.
-_Sigurd The Volsung_ as it stands ranks with the masterpieces of
-which the countless millions of men have but created a score or so
-between them. The Sigmund book was essential to his epic; had Morris
-been able to retain the terror of the Saga and yet invest it more
-fully with the primal impulse of humanity, it is not easy to point to
-any product of man that would have been clearly entitled to rank
-above this poem.
-
-In speaking of a thing for which we have the deepest reverence, we
-would be very clear. The books of Sigmund and Regin, as Morris has
-given them to us, remain the poetry of a great poet. Whole passages
-rise to a height as to which there can be no question. The first
-lines of the poem are enough to satisfy any intelligence that knows
-what epic poetry is that here we are to be in the presence of fine
-issues finely wrought--
-
- There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;
- Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched
- with gold;
- Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its
- doors:
- Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters
- strewed its floors.
- And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men
- that cast
- The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.
- There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great
- Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate,
- There the gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked
- with men,
- Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now
- and again
- Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the
- latter days,
- And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the
- People's Praise:
-
-and the greatness of the poem is manifested long before the finding
-of Brynhild. But up to that point there is lacking in the spirit of
-the work as a whole that sense of the inevitable and logical cause
-and effect in the weaving of human destiny that gives so marvellous a
-strength to the books called Brynhild and Gudrun.
-
-The plan of the poem seems to me, then, to be perfectly wrought, and
-the treatment of one part of it not so instinctively right as that of
-the rest, which is beyond all criticism. As to the actual
-workmanship apart from the design, the general examination of
-Morris's methods which has already been made in an earlier chapter
-covers its main characteristics. But there are qualities here which
-were not found in _Jason_ or _The Earthly Paradise_. There was in
-those poems an extraordinary ease and at the same time an indication
-of a titanic strength in reserve. In _Sigurd_ this reserve is used,
-but all the ease is, by some superb paradox of artistic power,
-retained. The hewn rocks and the cloud-wrack of Iceland, the great
-thews of Sigurd and the might of his god-given sword, the proud
-beauty of the deep-bosomed women who are the mates and mothers of
-fierce and terrible kings, all these things are sung with a vigour as
-tremendous as is their own, and yet there is not a strained moment or
-an uncontrolled turn of expression from beginning to end. And, save
-in places where the substance of the story itself momentarily
-excludes it, there is always beauty in the strength. Again we have
-but to read a page or two into the poem to find an example. Sensuous
-beauty and fiery strength could not well be more perfectly blended
-than in this description of the Volsung throne under the Branstock:--
-
- So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming
- bower,
- But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and
- tower;
- And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole
- of their lord,
- And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the
- waking sword.
-
-And again, when Sigurd is singing in the Niblung hall:--
-
- But his song and his fond desire go up to the cloudy roof,
- And blend with the eagles' shrilling in the windy night aloof.
-
-
-It is at the end of the book of Regin that Sigurd finds Brynhild
-asleep
-
- on the tower-top of the world,
- High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts
- are hurled;
-
-and from the moment he awakens her new light and life break into the
-narrative. Not only in their troth-plighting is a new note of human
-passion struck, but the Volsung spirit in Sigurd undergoes a change
-and takes on a larger charity and a more beneficent purpose.
-
- So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,
- And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,
- And the shadowless death of the day, was sweet in the
- golden tide;
- But the stars shone forth on the world and the twilight
- changed and died;
- And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that
- starry night,
- And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed
- for the light:
- But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as 'neath the night
- she lay,
- And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.
-
-And these abundant deeds of day are deeds of peace and healing.
-Sigurd among Hemir and his 'Lymdale forest lords' brings the dawn of
-a new age, when
-
- The axe-age and the sword-age seem dead a while ago,
- And the age of the cleaving of shields, of brother by
- brother slain,
- And the bitter days of the whoredom, and the hardened lust
- of gain;
- But man to man may hearken, and he that soweth reaps,
- And hushed is the heart of Feurir in the wolf-den of the
- deeps...
-
-and again, when he rides to the Niblungs it is with peace and
-comfortable words upon his lips--
-
- For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of earth
- Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown
- of worth;
- But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death;
- And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to
- the slanderous breath:
- And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the
- weary should sleep,
- And that man should hearken to man, and that he that
- soweth should reap.
- Now wide in the world I fare, to seek the dwellings of kings,
- For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their
- warfarings;
- So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thy house
- will I bide,
- And learn of thy ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride.
-
-It is in this mellowing of the fierce Volsung strain that the
-redemption of the cosmic spirit of the epic is found. To show this
-is a purpose not less noble than that of Milton when he robed himself
-to justify the ways of God to man, and it is one which must be
-clearly understood before we can hope to grasp the imaginative
-impulse that runs as a central thread through all the coloured jewels
-of Morris's masterpiece. This new chastening of the humanity in
-Sigurd not only makes the life among which he moves sweeter, but it
-reacts upon the most tragic judgments of the gods. Nothing could be
-finer than the way in which we are shown the ennobling influence that
-it has upon so terrible an event as the betrayal of Sigurd by the
-Niblung Gunnar and his brothers. It is an act of the blackest
-treachery, a violation of sacred vows sworn under the roof-tree of
-their home, an act which in the world of Sigmund would have been
-merely horrible. But here it is transfigured by the elemental
-humanity working along the logical ways of cause and effect in the
-heart of Sigurd and from him into the action of his betrayers, into
-pure tragedy. Before this quickening, enmity between man and man was
-a sullen and savage thing, some blinding of their eyes by the hands
-of mocking gods, but now it springs from the clear conflict of
-essential emotions and it has in it a new element of pity. Gunnar
-knows that the ravelled web can be straightened only in this way, but
-there is no loveless exultation in his mood, and in after days he
-cherishes the great memory of the man whom he has slain. And Sigurd
-knows of the coming end, but there is no hatred in him--
-
- the heart of Hogin he sees,
- And the heart of his brother Gunnar, _and he grieveth sore for
- these_.
-
-
-In detail Morris discovers a wealth of inventiveness that appears to
-be inexhaustible. He never allows his beauty of expression to be
-isolated in such a way as to interfere with the swiftness of
-narration, but there are many more instances of separable splendours
-in _Sigurd_ than in any other of his poems. When Sigurd tells King
-Elf, his stepfather, that he would go out into the world, the King
-answers--
-
- Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse
- may hold
- The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all into gold.
-
-And how exquisite is this of Gudrun's beauty--
-
- And her face is a rose of the morning by the night-tide
- framed about.
-
-and how perfect in imagination this of the Volsung King's sword--
-
- Therewith from the belt of battle he raised the golden sheath,
- And showed the peace-strings glittering around the hidden death.
-
-and there is surely no more lovely description in poetry than this--
-
- So the hall dusk deepens upon them till the candles come arow,
- And they drink the wine of departing and gird themselves to go;
- And they dight the dark-blue raiment and climb to the wains aloft
- While the horned moon hangs in the heaven and the
- summer wind blows soft.
- Then the yoke-beasts strained at the collar, and the dust
- in the moon arose,
- And they brushed the side of the acre and the blooming dewy close;
- Till at last, when the moon was sinking and the night was
- waxen late,
- The warders of the earl-folk looked forth from the Niblung gate
- And saw the gold pale-gleaming, and heard the wain-wheels crush
- The weary dust of the summer amidst the midnight hush.
-
-
-In _Sigurd_, too, Morris's power of investing his language with the
-utmost dramatic compression at exactly the right moment is developed
-to its highest point. One example may be given. Regin means to use
-Sigurd for his own ends--to make him secure the treasure of Fafnir.
-But Sigurd as yet has no will for action--
-
- the wary foot is surest, and the hasty oft turns back.
-
-Then the craft of Regin is concentrated into six lines--
-
- The deed is ready to hand,
- Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land:
- And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy
- youthful days,
- And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?
- Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.
- Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan.
-
-and Sigurd cries back--
-
- Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I
- shall do?
- Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his
- birth thou rue.
-
-
-In the treatment of the poem throughout, however, the quality that is
-predominant may be most fittingly described as magnificence of
-imagination. This is, of course, a thing quite distinct from mere
-magnificence of phrase. Not only is the utterance splendid, but the
-thing uttered and the thing suggested are splendid too. The voices
-are indeed tremendous, but that is because they are the voices of
-tremendous people. We feel always that we are moving among a
-humanity not in any way idealized, but framed in the proportions of
-giants, purged of everything inessential and tautened in all its
-sinews. And when the spirits of these people are drawn up to some
-unwonted height of emotional intensity the result is a cry from a
-world the knowledge of which moves us to a heroic hope for our race.
-The grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead, with the wonderful refrain
-interwoven by the narrator, is a grief that in itself is a triumph
-over any blows that destiny can inflict. Once man can sorrow in this
-fashion, we feel he has conquered his fate. And the death-song of
-Gunnar is yet more magnificent. The poet who wrote that wonderful
-chant of man in the face of death has fathomed the very depths of
-song-craft. Readers who know Morris's poetry will forgive me for
-taking them through these lines once again--
-
- So perished the Gap of the Gaping, and the cold sea
- swayed and sang,
- And the wind came down on the waters, and the beaten
- rock-walls rang;
- There the Sun from the south came shining, and the
- Starry Host stood round,
- And the wandering Moon of the heavens his habitation
- found;
- And they knew not why they were gathered, nor the
- deeds of their shaping they knew:
- But lo, Mid-Earth the Noble 'neath their might and their
- glory grew,
- And the grass spread over its face, and the Night and the
- Day were born,
- And it cried on the Death in the even, and it cried on the
- Life in the morn;
- Yet it waxed and waxed, and knew not, and it lived and
- had not learned;
- And where were the Framers that framed, and the Soul
- and the Might that had yearned?
-
- On the Thrones are the Powers that fashioned, and they
- name the Night and the Day,
- And the tide of the Moon's increasing, and the tide of his
- waning away;
- And they name the years for the story; and the Lands
- they change and change,
- The great and the mean and the little, that this unto that
- may be strange:
- They met, and they fashioned dwellings, and the House
- of Glory they built;
- They met, and they fashioned the Dwarf-kind, and the
- Gold and the Gifts and the Guilt.
-
- There were twain, and they went upon earth, and were
- speechless unmighty and wan;
- They were hopeless, deathless, lifeless, and the Mighty
- named them Man;
- Then they gave them speech and power, and they gave
- them colour and breath;
- And deeds and the hope they gave them, and they gave
- them Life and Death;
- Yea, hope, as the hope of the Framers; yea, might, as the
- Fashioners had,
- Till they wrought, and rejoiced in their bodies, and saw
- their sons and were glad:
- And they changed their lives and departed, and came back
- as the leaves of the trees
- Come back and increase in the summer:--and I, I, I am
- of these;
- And I know of Them that have fashioned, and the deeds
- that have blossomed and grow;
- But nought of the God's repentance, or the God's undoing
- I know.
-
-
-No more striking example of the meaning of personality in poetry
-could well be found than in a comparison between this song and the
-famous second chorus of Swinburne's "Atalanta in Calydon," which had
-been published ten years earlier. Superficially there is a kinship
-both of substance and music, but superficially only. A moderately
-sensitive ear will immediately catch the difference in the swell of
-the lines, and the substance is alike just as a landscape of Turner
-is like one of Corot's--they are both landscapes.
-
-The imaginative and moral atmosphere of Sigurd is that of the
-northern peoples. The figures of the story are giants and move along
-their lives as such, but there is always behind them the mute shadow
-of a yet greater immensity, the fate that reveals itself through no
-oracles. At the moments of their most glorious victories and
-sweetest attainment, these men and women, Sigurd and Gunnar and
-Brynhild and Gudrun and their fellows, are more or less consciously
-in the presence of the end that makes neither presage nor promise.
-The hope of Valhall is in reality no more than sublime courage.
-Morris himself, in a letter written at the time when he was going
-through the Sagas, said 'what a glorious outcome of the worship of
-Courage these stories are.' This is, finally, the supreme gift of
-the northern race to the world, and it is embodied for us for ever in
-the song of _Sigurd the Volsung_; not unquestioning acceptance, not
-the cheerful strength of faith, not mere indifference begotten of the
-delights of the immediate moment, but a deep sense of the mystery
-that may or may not be beneficent in its design, and in the face of
-all an invulnerable Courage.
-
-
-
-
-VI
-
-TRANSLATIONS AND SOCIALISM
-
-The completion of _Sigurd the Volsung_ may conveniently be treated as
-a half-way house in Morris's career. The poet had fully proved
-himself. The lovely morning song of _Guenevere_, a little uncertain
-both in its own expression of life and in the direction along which
-it pointed the singer's development, but nevertheless clearly the
-promise of some memorable doings in the world of poetry, had matured
-through the simple clarity and joyousness of _Jason_ and _The Earthly
-Paradise_ into this fierce and elemental strength, corrected as it
-were from step to step by the practical experience of the poet's
-daily life. At the beginning of the translation of the Völsunga Saga
-he had written--
-
- So draw ye round and hearken, English Folk,
- Unto the best tale pity ever wrought--
-
-and now he had fashioned that tale anew into its greatest
-presentment, raising its spirit into an expression worthy to rank
-with the supreme masterpieces of the world. His creativeness as poet
-had not exhausted itself, but it had achieved its most urgent
-purpose; it had evolved a life which the poet's imaginative longing
-told him might yet be realized on earth. From this time the business
-of setting the crooked straight among the affairs of his day began to
-absorb his attention and energy, and in the outcome he published but
-one more book of poems, which will be considered later. In 1875 he
-had printed his verse translation of _The Aeneids of Virgil_, about
-which, as was inevitable, the opinion of classical scholars was, and
-remains, divided. There is a quality in poetry which is finally
-untranslatable from one language to another, the quality that is knit
-into the words themselves. The ecstasy of which I have spoken is
-capable of a thousand shades of spiritual colour, and when a poet is
-moved by it he is moved by it in a kind that can never be precisely
-repeated, either in himself or another. The translator as a rule
-gives us the substance and loses this other quality altogether; the
-most that we can hope for is that he may be a poet himself, and,
-retaining the substance, substitute an ecstasy of his own which shall
-in some measure compensate for the loss of the particular exaltation
-of the original. This Morris does; reading his translation we
-may--indeed must--miss some essential Virgilian quality, but we have
-the great story faithfully told, and we have poetry. We may continue
-to ask for more than that, but we shall continue to be denied. This
-translation was followed by _The Odyssey_ in 1887 and _Beowulf_ in
-1895.
-
-The growth of Morris's socialism can fortunately be traced without
-divergence into chronological data. Of its nature we have already
-seen something in considering his poetry, but in _A Dream of John
-Ball_ and _News from Nowhere_ he defined it in detail, not only in
-its imaginative but also in its practical aspect. Before turning to
-these it will be well briefly to outline his movements in the later
-years of his life. The business of Morris and Company had already
-passed into his own hands, not without some difficulty--though
-without friction--in closing the partnership arrangements. This
-really meant but little added labour, as he had in effect been
-responsible for its control almost since its commencement. In 1877
-he was asked whether he would accept the Professorship of Poetry at
-Oxford in the event of its being offered to him, and declined
-emphatically though graciously enough. In the next year he moved to
-the house on the Mall at Hammersmith to which was attached the
-lecture room where the early meetings of the Hammersmith Socialists
-were held, and his active propagandist work had begun. In addition
-to constant meetings and lectures on socialism and art, the conduct
-of his paper _The Commonweal_, and his own business affairs, he
-undertook any work that came to his hand for the furtherance of his
-fixed ideal. Among other things he was one of the founders and the
-first secretary of the Society for the Preservation of Ancient
-Buildings, and finally he linked to his name the brief but noble
-career of the Kelmscott Press. He died on the 3rd of October, 1896,
-at the age of sixty-three, and was buried in the churchyard at
-Kelmscott, wearied out but not embittered by the strife of his later
-years and the insults of people who could only feel the vigour of his
-blows without understanding the cause in which they were struck.
-
-_A Dream of John Ball_ was published in 1888. In it Morris gives
-once again a picture of that life lived in close contact with earth
-which he so earnestly desired, but it is not the complete life of
-_The Earthly Paradise_ or _News from Nowhere_. The people are not
-yet free, although they have not yet fallen to the indifference to
-freedom that Morris looked upon as the most distressing manifestation
-of his own day. Together with this picture we have a long discussion
-between John Ball, the people's priest, and the dreamer--Morris
-himself--as to the result of the risings that are then taking shape,
-and the future of civilization. The hope that the priest cries out
-to the people from the village cross becomes in turn the hope of
-Morris for his own generation, and slowly, in the talk that follows,
-the dreamer outlines the whole cause and effect of the evil that is
-analysed much more closely in _News from Nowhere_; the age of
-commercial tyranny that shall come will be strong in its days because
-the slaves will nurse the hope that they themselves may rise to the
-seats of the tyrants in turn--'and this shall be the very safeguard
-of all rule and law in those days.' John Ball speaks with the voice
-of Morris. When he was in prison he--
-
-
- 'lay there a-longing for the green fields and the white-thorn
- bushes and the lark singing over the corn, and the talk of good
- fellows round the ale-house bench, and the babble of the little
- children, and the team on the road and the beasts afield, and all
- the life of earth.'
-
-
-The book need not be considered in detail in connection with Morris's
-socialism, for it is but a suggestion, whilst _News from Nowhere_ is
-an elaborate statement. But it contains certain words that were very
-close to Morris's heart. The recognition, for example, that humanity
-cannot reach the simplicity that he conceived to be its finest end
-without much thought and careful fostering, or in other words that
-this simplicity was not the product of barbarism but of a highly
-perfected state of evolution, finds expression in the frank
-acceptance by this clear-headed and high-hearted priest of the value
-of his companion's scholarship. In this book, as always, Morris kept
-his work definitely in the region of imaginative art. Not only is
-the descriptive writing vivid and full of beauty, but he retains
-throughout the full power of literary illusion. This is very
-strikingly shown in the pages where the priest questions the dreamer
-as to what will be the end of that distant day of oppression of which
-they are speaking. Will a new and clear day break on us? As we read
-through to the answer we become deeply concerned as to what it will
-be, as though we were listening indeed to one speaking with
-authority; and when we find that it is one of hopefulness and courage
-we feel strangely and splendidly reassured. We know again that the
-finest persuasiveness is that of art.
-
-_News from Nowhere_ appeared in America in 1890 and in England in
-1891. It has been, perhaps, the most popular of all Morris's
-writings, but curiously under-estimated by his critics both as a
-practical enunciation of his social creed and as an embodiment of his
-social vision. The scheme of the book is very simple. The
-narrator--Morris again, of course--goes to bed one winter night at
-his Hammersmith house. He wakes to a fresh June morning in an
-altered world. The life of this world, the new communism somewhere
-in the twenty-second century, he describes at length, and weaves into
-it a long conversation with one of its old men which traces the
-course by which it has grown from the nineteenth century and defines
-the errors which it has cancelled. The constitution of this life may
-be assailable at certain points, and some of the steps by which it
-has been reached--the armed revolution for instance--may be arbitrary
-in conception, but these things are of no moment. The important fact
-is that Morris's indictment of our contemporary social system is
-perfectly logical at every point, and that the new life that he
-creates is complete in its humanity and not that of a misty world of
-dreams. Of its prophetic value it is impossible to speak; as to that
-we can decide in our imagination alone. But to suggest that the book
-is not consistently conscious of the true nature of our social
-defects on its negative side, and on its positive side fiercely alive
-to the real meaning of life, is merely to misunderstand it and its
-subject. Some examination on both these sides is necessary in
-support of this statement, and its negative or destructive teaching
-is to be considered first.
-
-Men should have joy in the work of their hands, and they had none.
-That, in Morris's view, was the fundamental evil to be cured, and he
-seeks at the outset to discover its cause. Says Hammond, who acts as
-spokesman for the new people--
-
-
- 'Go and have a look at the sheep-walks high up the slopes between
- Ingleborough and Pen-y-gwent and tell me if you think we waste
- the land there by not covering it with factories for making
- things that nobody wants, which was the chief business of the
- nineteenth century!'
-
-
-This state was the product, he continues, of 'a most elaborate system
-of buying and selling, which has been called the World-Market; and
-that World-Market, once set a-going, forced them to go on making more
-and more of these wares, whether they needed them or not.' The
-result was, of course, that the system became master of the work, and
-the work itself ceased to have any significance, and 'under this
-horrible burden of unnecessary production it became impossible for
-them to look upon labour and its results from any other point of view
-than one--to wit, the ceaseless endeavour to expend the least
-possible amount of labour on any made, and yet at the same time to
-make as many articles as possible.' Anybody who has had the smallest
-experience of commerce knows that this is precisely the vicious
-circle into which we have been caught. And with this Morris sets out
-clearly the fact that the support of this state is to the interest
-solely of the men who have the power to control labour and not that
-of the labour itself, but that the workers have on the one hand, as
-he says in the passage quoted from _A Dream of John Ball_, a hope
-that they too may become masters and tyrannize in turn, and, on the
-other hand, the long habit of drawing wages from these controllers
-has imbued them with a dull belief that they are in reality dependent
-not on their own work but upon some indefinable source of wealth set
-up above them. Then, again, this system of class privilege has
-behind it the power of a government that, though mainly ineffective
-in itself, yet controls a further system of right by might--the Law
-Courts and police and military, all of which things, with a fine show
-of judicial balance, can be and are employed not to develop society
-but to uphold establishments, the chief of which is this very
-privilege and inequality. So that by an elaborate structure of
-oppression which is necessary to the maintenance of the position of
-the few, the people are quite effectually prevented from bringing any
-spiritual discipline into their work, and are so deprived of the most
-abiding happiness that life has to offer. That briefly is the
-central significance of Morris's social proposition. The practical
-means of deliverance is a matter upon which no two people are likely
-to agree, and the method suggested by Morris need not be discussed,
-because it does not really affect the general question. But it
-cannot well be denied that his view of the evil is a sound one, and
-that deliverance in one way or another is a possibility by which
-alone contemplation of the evil is made tolerable.
-
-The constructive aspect of the book not only shows the life for which
-Morris hoped, but answers many of the objections made by reaction to
-socialism in any shape. 'I have been told,' says the stranger, 'that
-political strife was a necessary result of human nature.'
-
-
- 'Human nature!' cried the old boy impetuously; 'what human
- nature?' The human nature of paupers, of slaves, of
- slave-holders, or the human nature of wealthy freemen? Which?
- Come, tell me that!
-
-
-And then again--
-
-
- 'Now, this is what I want to ask you about, to wit, how you get
- people to work when there is no reward of labour, and especially
- how you get them to work strenuously?'
-
- 'No reward of labour?' said Hammond, gravely, 'the reward of
- labour is life. Is that not enough?'
-
- 'But no reward for especially good work,' quoth I.
-
- 'Plenty of reward,' said he, 'the reward of creation. The wages
- which God gets, as people might have said time agone. If you are
- going to ask to be paid for the pleasure of creation, which is
- what excellence in work means, the next thing we shall hear of
- will be a bill sent in for the begetting of children.'
-
- 'Well, but,' said I, 'the man of the nineteenth century would say
- there is a natural desire toward the procreation of children, and
- a natural desire not to work.'
-
- 'Yes, yes,' said he, 'I know the ancient platitude; wholly
- untrue; indeed, to us quite meaningless.'
-
-
-That is very simple, and yet it shows the profoundest insight into
-the essential nature of humanity. Nothing is sadder or more
-ludicrous than to hear people say that they turn to the degraded
-sensationalism that passes for life in daily report because of their
-interest in human nature. The enervating influence of this
-perversion of life upon much of our finest artistic genius has been
-mentioned. Morris was not much given to criticizing contemporary
-literature in his writing, but he makes one of the people in his new
-world say of certain books of the late nineteenth century--
-
-
- 'But I say flatly that in spite of all their cleverness and
- vigour, and capacity for story telling, there is something
- loathsome about them. Some of them, indeed, do here and there
- show some feeling for those whom the history-books call 'poor,'
- and of the misery of whose lives we have some inkling; but
- presently they give it up, and towards the end of the story we
- must be contented to see the hero and heroine living in an island
- of bliss on other people's troubles; and that after a long series
- of sham troubles (or mostly sham) of their own making,
- illustrated by dreary introspective nonsense about their feelings
- and aspirations, and all the rest of it.'
-
-
-That was written before the new day of John Galsworthy and John
-Masefield, and even then Morris would have been the first to make
-many honourable exclusions from his charge. But the charge itself
-was founded on deep understanding.
-
-In the life to which the revolt against this sham life has led in
-_News from Nowhere_ the radical change is, of course, that all this
-misuse of work has been abolished. People no longer make unnecessary
-things and so find time to make the necessary things well. And the
-very act of doing this has brought a strange new exultation into
-their lives, and once again human nature has come into its own
-unbridled expression. They still have their troubles, their
-love-quarrels, 'the folly which comes by nature, the unwisdom of the
-immature man, or the older men caught in a trap,' the anxiety of the
-mother as to her children--'they may indeed turn out better or worse;
-they may disappoint her highest hopes; such anxieties as these are a
-part of the mingled pleasure and pain which goes to make up the life
-of mankind,'--but they are free of the cares of a time when the aim
-of men's work was to come uppermost in competition and not to make
-the work its own joy and reward. The men and women still have their
-difficult sex problems to solve, but they do not complicate them by
-wilful neglect of obvious facts; they recognize for instance that a
-man or a woman may love quite genuinely and tire and even love again
-as at first, and if a match does not turn out well, they break it and
-shake off the grief 'in a way which perhaps the sentimentalists of
-other times would think contemptible and unheroic, but which we think
-necessary and manlike.' Their acceptance of these natural facts does
-not mean that they live in a state of disorganized and capricious
-relationship. Faithful love is a common enough condition among them,
-but they are not unwise enough to suppose that when it is not present
-its place can be satisfactorily and wholesomely taken by an
-artificial pretence. Finding this joy in the work of their hands,
-and seeing no end to work other than that joy, they have lost all
-jealousy of the work of their fellows, and every man is encouraged to
-the best that is in him by common consent and approval. Infinite
-variety has taken the place of monotony, and one man's pleasure in
-another's achievement the place of fear that it may mean loss to
-himself. Hammond can say--
-
-
- We live amidst beauty without fear of becoming effeminate, ... we
- have plenty to do, and on the whole enjoy doing it. What more
- can we ask of life?
-
-
-What indeed? It must be remembered that he says 'we.' The delight
-is complete only because it is common to all.
-
-
- 'In time past, indeed, men were told to love their kind, to
- believe in the religion of humanity and so forth. But look you,
- just in the degree that a man had elevation of mind and
- refinement enough to be able to value this idea was he repelled
- by the obvious aspect of the individuals composing the mass which
- he was to worship; and he could only evade that repulsion by
- making a conventional abstraction of mankind that had little
- actual or historical relation to the race, which to his eyes was
- divided into blind tyrants on the one hand and apathetic degraded
- slaves on the other. But now, where is the difficulty in
- accepting the religion of humanity, when the men and women who go
- to make up humanity are free, happy, and energetic at least, and
- most commonly beautiful of body also, and surrounded by beautiful
- things of their own fashioning, and a nature bettered and not
- worsened by contact with mankind?'
-
-
-That was Morris's clear conviction as to the whole question, and the
-word that he uses to describe the new meaning of work--that is the
-remedy of all the social evils against which he was in revolt--is art.
-
-This, then, was the creed and the hope that Morris set out in detail
-in _News from Nowhere_. That the dream was farther from realization
-than he thought may be the unhappy truth, but of this at least we are
-sure, that he dreamt a good thing. The picture that he shows us is
-of healthy, aspiring, joyous men and women, full of sweet humour and
-clean passion, who, far from having lost all incentive to endeavour,
-have found a new and tremendous cause for endeavour in every hour of
-the day. For them work and worship have become one, and of the union
-has come life. The prose that Morris uses is beautiful because
-perfectly adapted to its purpose. In the practical discussions on
-particular questions the style is swift and incisive; in the
-descriptions of the life of his new world it is coloured by all his
-tenderness and love for men and natural beauty. 'The earth and the
-growth and the life of it! If I could but say or show how I love
-it!' It is a cry always ready upon his lips. And he brings to his
-work here, too, a charming and whimsical humour. The little sketch
-of that wonderful person the Golden Dustman is a master-stroke of
-genuinely human comedy. And the humour may be leavened with
-admirable satire; he has in his mind a certain day in Trafalgar
-Square, when 'unarmed and peaceable people were attacked by ruffians
-armed with bludgeons.' 'And they put up with that?' says Dick--
-
-
- 'We _had_ to put up with it; we couldn't help it.'
-
- The old man looked at me keenly and said: 'You seem to know a
- great deal about it, neighbour! And is it really true that
- nothing came of it?'
-
- 'This came of it,' said I, 'that a good many people were sent to
- prison because of it.'
-
- 'What, of the bludgeoners?' said the old man. 'Poor devils!'
-
- 'No, no,' said I, 'of the bludgeoned.'
-
- Said the old man rather severely: 'Friend, I expect that you have
- been reading some rotten collection of lies, and have been taken
- in by it too easily.'
-
-
-The book has been described, quite aptly, as insular. In its
-atmosphere and colour it is essentially English. The accounts of a
-reconstructed London and a cleansed countryside, of the great Thames
-reaches and the stone buildings of the Cotswolds, of the happy and
-generous but rather silent folk, of their traditions and customs and
-their characteristics, are all written by an Englishman of Englishmen
-and their country. Their natures have not been fundamentally
-changed, but stripped of the excrescences of an effete and degraded
-society, and they are still drawn in their proper relation to their
-native landscape. They are the clearly wrought ideal of our race,
-but they have left in them nothing of those products of our race who
-consistently confuse expediency with ethical fitness, sentimentalism
-with passion, and celebrate the planting of the British flag in all
-sorts of places where it is not in the least wanted by calling
-themselves God's Englishmen.
-
-
-
-
-VII
-
-PROSE ROMANCES AND POEMS BY THE WAY
-
-During the later years of his life, when he was distracted by the
-many claims of his active socialism and constantly harassed by
-details of organization and the efforts to reconcile people who,
-having the same interests, persisted in misunderstanding each other,
-Morris wrote a series of prose romances that hold a distinctive place
-in his art. His long poems show us a life conceived on lines that I
-have sought to trace, approached in a mood of austere responsibility
-and defined with all the completeness that he could bring to work.
-In these prose romances the life is unchanged, but it is seen through
-a different mood. It is as though he turned aside from the stress of
-his daily work to the world that his imagination had already created
-as the only sane one for men, and saw it with a kind of new
-leisureliness and wholesome irresponsibility. It was impossible for
-him to allow fancy to intrude upon the life that he desired to the
-exclusion of any of its vital qualities, but, as far as was possible
-without such offence to his artistic conscience, in these romances he
-indulged his faculty for story-telling without curb. The people and
-their adventures and characters are still, as in the poems, related
-continuously to Morris's radical conception of life, but they are no
-longer related to any central purpose contained in the work of art
-itself. The waywardness and profuseness of romanticism are here
-carried to their extreme limits, and yet we never feel that the
-narratives are formless, so powerful and fixed is the vision through
-which Morris draws them into unity. The justification of his
-indifference to the ordinary demands of construction in a book like
-_The Roots of the Mountains_, is that we do not feel that the work
-would gain in any way were he scrupulously careful in this matter.
-Morris had created a world in his imagination, just and beautiful as
-it seemed to him. From that world he drew the substance of his great
-poems, reducing it to the essential and symbolic terms of art.
-_Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_ and _Sigurd_ are all perfectly
-constructed results of the submission of this world to the severe
-process of artistic selection. But in the later prose romances we
-are led into the very world itself from which these things were
-drawn, and given leave to wander through it as we will. We find that
-it is cosmic as life is cosmic, but it is not yet wrought into the
-stricter proportions of art. If we can think of Morris writing
-through another generation, it is impossible to believe that he would
-have turned again, say, to the Volsung story; that he had shaped
-finally in _Sigurd the Volsung_; but we feel that he might have found
-material in these romances for poem after poem, that, indeed, they
-are, as it were, a panoramic expression of the world from which his
-poems must inevitably be imagined. There is in them nothing of
-inconsistency, but there is a prodigal diffuseness that belongs
-rather to nature than to art. They are the storehouse from which
-Morris's own art was drawn, and poets to come may yet turn to them as
-they do to Malory or as Morris himself did to the Sagas.
-
-The choice of prose for these romances was, for this reason, not in
-any way arbitrary but the result of sound artistic deliberation.
-Where Morris used the same material and crystallized it through his
-finest imaginative impulse, verse was the natural and inevitable
-medium; but he is here showing us the material before it had been
-subjected to this highest creative energy, and there is not the
-spiritual fusion that makes verse necessary to complete expression.
-The prose that he uses is stamped always with his personality, and so
-justifies itself even where most open to criticism. It is commonly
-of extraordinary beauty, full of the gravity and high manners that
-belong to the heroic atmosphere of the stories themselves; and even
-where the adaptation of an archaic method of speech is most
-pronounced it is not self-conscious. All language is dependent
-largely on convention, and that Morris used a convention that was not
-generally accepted was a virtue in workmanship rather than a vice.
-The important thing is that he was consistent in the use, or, in
-other words, that his convention was never a mannerism but definitely
-a corporate part of his style.
-
-These stories are but another instance of the remarkable range of
-Morris's artistic power. They do not, of course, rank with his own
-most splendid work, but in a particular kind of prose romance they
-attain an excellence that had not been known in England for several
-centuries. And in the ease with which they hold our interest in the
-story and at the same time maintain a perfect consistency of
-character, they show that, had he chosen, Morris might have added yet
-another to his many achievements, and challenged comparison with the
-best of Fielding's successors. The Bride and the Sunbeam,
-Face-of-God and Walter and Folk-Might, and, above all, Dallach, are
-drawn with that certainty and depth of understanding of the
-individual that are perhaps the chief distinction of the youngest of
-the literary arts in England.
-
-In 1891 Morris's last book of poems, _Poems By The Way_, was
-published by the Kelmscott Press. In it the poet gathered together
-some fifty of his shorter poems written at intervals during the
-thirty years since the publication of _The Defence of Guenevere_, and
-there are naturally in the volume a wide range of subjects and much
-diversity of manner. Fragments from rejected or unfinished tales
-intended for _The Earthly Paradise_, fine echoes and memories of his
-Icelandic studies and travel, lyrical expressions of this mood or
-that, translations from the Flemish and Danish and his beloved
-saga-tongue, fairy tales, chants that grew out of his socialism, and
-a few poems that show that when he chose to apply his poetic vision
-to modern conditions he could do so with profound penetration, are
-brought together almost at haphazard. If, as Mr. Arthur Symons says,
-a pageant is a shining disorder, then this book is truly a pageant.
-And yet behind all these expressions of many times and moods is to be
-seen the central impulse of Morris's life knitting them together into
-a clear spiritual unity. It seems a far cry from the delicate
-tenderness of 'From the Upland to the Sea' to the passion of 'Mother
-and Son,' from the sombre brooding of 'To the Muse of the North' to
-the airy romance of 'Goldilocks and Goldilocks,' yet they are all
-unmistakably begotten of the same temperament. The high reverence
-for naked life, the insistence on labour being joyful if it was not
-to be abominable, the fierce worship of beauty and the courageous
-acceptance of its passing, these were the things by which Morris had
-his being, and they are woven into all the pages of his last book.
-He was a man who took literally no thought as to the relation of the
-work in hand to that of years passed. A story is told of him that
-when a friend who was helping him to collect the material for _Poems
-By The Way_ brought a poem to him he could not remember having
-written a line of it. The perfect consistency of his aim and temper
-from first to last is the more remarkable in consequence, and the
-kinship between two fragmentary expressions of his life, divided
-perhaps by thirty years, is fine to see. His understanding of the
-ideal towards which he strove became clearer as he passed through his
-strenuous existence, and his powers of realizing it in his art
-matured steadily to the end, but the ideal itself was unchanged.
-That in an artist is a splendid thing: a thing that perhaps of all
-others is the token of his divinity. For it is that central
-certainty of purpose that is immortal in him, austerely set above the
-change of circumstance. The form of his art may pass from its first
-imitative and awkward groping slowly to its perfection or it may
-prove itself at the beginning, but it is the great guiding purpose
-that he cannot gain by seeking, and that lends truth to the common
-phrase.
-
-Of certain of the poems no more than a word need be said, whilst
-others need to be considered more fully. The northern poems, such as
-'Gunnar's Howe' and 'Of the Wooing of Hallbiorn' and those belonging
-to the _Earthly Paradise_ period are beautiful strays from phases of
-the poet's work that have already been discussed. Here and there we
-find a deliberate return to an earlier manner, as in 'The Hall and
-the Wood,' written in 1890, where many of the devices used in the
-Guenevere volume are again employed and with even greater success.
-Here, for example, is a beautiful reminiscence of lines already
-quoted--
-
- She stood before him face to face,
- With the sun-beam thwart her hand,
- As on the gold of the Holy Place
- The painted angels stand.
-
- With many a kiss she closed his eyes;
- She kissed him cheek and chin:
- E'en so in the painted Paradise
- Are Earth's folk welcomed in.
-
-
-The short lyrics, 'Love's Gleaning Tide,' 'Spring's Bedfellow,' 'Pain
-and Time Strive Not,' and two or three others, have just that
-intangible beauty that makes lyrical poetry at once unforgettable and
-impossible to discuss in any detail. In one of them, 'The Garden by
-the Sea,' which is the lovely song from the Hylas episode in _Jason_,
-Morris altered three lines, not, I think, for the better. The fairy
-poem 'Goldilocks and Goldilocks' is play, but the play of a great
-poet. Then we have the charming verses written for tapestries and
-pictures, slight enough and yet struck by Morris's unerring instinct
-into sparks of poetry. This of the Vine--
-
- I draw the blood from out the earth;
- I store the sun for winter mirth.
-
-and this of the Mulberry Tree--
-
- Love's lack hath dyed my berries red:
- For Love's attire my leaves are shed.
-
-are perfect of their kind. There remain two groups, both inspired
-more or less by the same impulse, but differing a good deal in their
-artistic value. The first of these consists of poems written
-directly to embody the principles of active socialism that absorbed
-the greater part of his energy in later life; it includes 'All for
-the Cause,' 'The Day is Coming,' and 'The Voice of Toil' among
-others. Here again Morris proved his incapacity to write verse that
-was not poetry, but he gets nearer to the border-line at times in
-these poems than he does anywhere else in his work; he is, however,
-still well on the right side. 'All for the Cause' is a fine direct
-challenge to the workers to assert their own lives, but the challenge
-is made to all that is best in their nature, even to the best of that
-nature that the poet hopes will yet be fostered in them. 'The Day is
-Coming' has a strong vein of irony in it that looks a little strange
-in Morris's verse, and yet it is admirably managed--
-
- For then, laugh not, but listen to this strange tale of mine,
- All folk that are in England shall be better lodged than swine.
-
- Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the
- deeds of his hand,
- Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand.
-
- Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear
- For to-morrow's lack of earning and the hunger-wolf anear.
-
- I tell you this for a wonder, that no man shall be glad
- Of his fellow's fall and mishap to snatch at the work he had.
-
- For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,
- Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.
-
- O strange new wonderful justice! But for whom shall we
- gather the gain?
- For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall
- labour in vain.
-
- Then all Mine and all Thine shall be Ours, and no more
- shall any man crave
- For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a
- slave.
-
-The tremendous sincerity that induced an artist so sensitive to the
-proper uses of his art to press it into the service of a cause to
-which he had linked his life is in itself a justification of the
-result. The higher qualities of his imagination may be momentarily
-set aside, but the thing is nevertheless afire; it burns with
-conviction. The optimism that disgusts us is the optimism that is
-not in direct relation to effort. The sacrifices that Morris was
-making to his socialism in the practical conduct of his life were
-reflected quite clearly in the spirit of these poems and quickened
-it. It is said that this poetry was written for the occasion, but it
-must be remembered that the occasion was one knit into the very fibre
-of the poet's being. A curious poem which belongs to this group is
-'The God of the Poor,' the first draft of which was written about
-1870 or earlier. A simple story of allegorical cast, telling of the
-overcoming of the oppressor of the people, Maltete, by their
-deliverer Boncoeur, it is interesting as showing a definite attitude
-in the poet's mind towards these problems years before he sought
-actively to deal with them.
-
-In the second of the groups of which I speak are six or seven poems
-that deal with some particular rather than general aspect of life.
-'Hope Dieth: Love Liveth' and 'Error and Loss' touch remote, though
-essential, aspects of the psychology of love, if I may use the
-phrase, with a subtlety that was one of Browning's peculiar
-distinctions. The endurance of love when everything, even hope, is
-lost, and the pathos of the defeat of love's end by mere chance, have
-never been handled with greater poignancy and insight. 'Of The Three
-Seekers' lacks this depth of vision, and states rather than
-convinces, though there is that habitual simplicity of Morris in the
-statement that gives it its own value. In 'Drawing Near the Light'
-we have lyrical expression of a universal mood drawn into contact
-with a particular state. It may be quoted in full--
-
- Lo, when we wade the tangled wood,
- In haste and hurry to be there,
- Nought seem its leaves and blossoms good,
- For all that they be fashioned fair.
-
- But looking up, at last we see
- The glimmer of the open light,
- From o'er the place where we would be:
- Then grow the very brambles bright.
-
- So now, amidst our day of strife,
- With many a matter glad we play,
- When once we see the light of life
- Gleam through the tangle of to-day.
-
-There is here a suggestion of the application of Morris's whole
-poetic vision to the concrete affairs of his socialism that found its
-supreme achievement in the three magnificent poems, 'The Message of
-the March Wind,' 'Mother and Son' and 'The Half of Life Gone.' In
-these poems the contemplation of life amid the conflicting currents
-that spring from a particular phase in the evolution of civilization
-rather than from the fundamental sources of humanity is lifted into
-the highest regions of poetry. They stand apart from, though not
-above, the rest of Morris's work, and are indirectly an emphatic
-vindication of his general method. What that method was we have
-examined already, but in these poems he gave final proof that if he
-chose to bring his art into superficial and obvious relation with the
-localized conditions of his time he could do so as admirably as any
-man. That with the consciousness of this power in himself he
-deliberately chose the other method in the great mass of his work is
-the reply to his critics who suggest that he turned away from his own
-time in his art because he was not stirred to any real imaginative
-understanding of it.
-
-'The Message of the March Wind' is the complete expression of the
-central tenet of his socialistic creed. The poet--or the speaker--is
-keenly responsive to the things that Morris held to be alone of worth
-in life. He is among the green beauty of earth in the springtide;
-the woman he loves with him. They have wandered
-
- From township to township, o'er down and by village,
-
-and now they stand in the twilight, looking down the white road
-before them, where
-
- The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about;
- The moon's rim is rising, a star glitters o'er us,
- And the vane on the spire-top is swinging in doubt.
-
-They are in the full content of their love and the sweetness of the
-earth, and then--
-
- Hark, the wind in the elm-boughs! from London it bloweth,
- And telleth of gold, of hope and unrest:
- Of power that helps not; of wisdom that knoweth,
- But teacheth not aught of the worst and the best.
-
-
-The contrast is thus imagined, and leads the poet into a direct
-statement of his understanding of the whole problem. He never
-flattered the people for whom he was working into the belief that the
-great unleavened majority had the wisdom of the world on its side.
-His rejection of that idea was as emphatic as Ibsen's. What he
-sought was to make them realize the fact themselves. He did not tell
-them that they were fitted for the great simple joys of life, but
-that they had the right to be so fitted, and that it was in
-themselves alone to assert that right. His aim was to make them
-discontented with themselves and the ugliness of their own lives,
-knowing that once this was done the rest would inevitably follow.
-And he realized, on the other hand, that the life which he worshipped
-was made impossible and all its virtue destroyed simply by the
-surroundings that by some obscure process of evil had established
-themselves on earth. The happiness of the speaker and his lover in
-this fresh beauty of the spring twilight was the outcome not of any
-inherent virtue of their own, but of the mere chance of their escape
-from this disease of circumstance.
-
- Hark! the March wind again of a people is telling:
- Of the life that they live there, so haggard and grim,
- That if we and our love amidst them had been dwelling
- My fondness had faltered, thy beauty grown dim.
-
-The poem takes up, with exquisite tenderness, the hope that these
-people over whom the March wind has passed will yet awaken from their
-sleep of degradation, and turns back again to the quiet peace of the
-village inn with the 'lights and the fire,'
-
- And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet;
- For there in a while shall be rest and desire,
- And there shall the morrow's uprising be sweet.
-
-The whole poem is one more witness to the sovereignty of art. The
-deepest social difficulty of our time is here drawn through the
-meshes of the artist's imagination and, purged of everything
-inessential, set out in vibrating colour and line far more appealing
-and convincing than all the statistical statements of the lords of
-rule. The failure of our modern legislation to realize the value of
-art in any hope of national regeneration is not the least of its
-blunders. Artists have, happily, escaped from the patronage of
-courts, but until the propagandists rediscover the fact that they
-must bring back the artists to their help, not as servants but as
-fellow labourers, they will not work wisely. The artists continue
-their labour, building some beauty in the world. That labour can be
-directed by no one but themselves, but it is at their peril that the
-workers who are striving, earnestly enough, towards a better hope
-refuse to throw the creations of the artist into the balance with
-their own endeavour. To bring poetry to the issue of a definite
-social problem, is, unfortunately, thought of as mere idleness. But
-let 'The Message of the March Wind' be delivered to the people up and
-down the land, as systematically if need be as the demand for rent or
-taxes, and it will be heard willingly enough, and when it is heard
-there will be new life among us. I speak in metaphors, but there may
-be method even in a metaphor. For 'The Message of the March Wind'
-might bring people in turn to _The Earthly Paradise_, and then the
-aim of Morris's art--of all art--would be understood by the world.
-
-'Mother and Son' is wider than 'The Message of the March Wind' in its
-scope inasmuch as it deals with a subject less peculiar to a
-particular generation or age, narrower in that it is concerned with
-one definite event instead of general conditions. A woman is
-speaking to her love-child. To analyse the poem would be to quote it
-almost line by line, but the conflict of the very roots of humanity
-with the blind dictates of circumstance, the tenderness of motherhood
-and the wistful yearning of a soul crossed in an uncharitable social
-scheme could scarcely find an expression more purely poetic. And
-'The Half of Life Gone' touches this conflict with equal vigour and
-pity.
-
-Reading these poems we are glad that Morris ordered his art as he
-did. Beautiful as they are and perfectly as they show the
-possibility of bringing all things into the purifying influence of
-the imaginative faculty, they yet leave us with an exultation that
-has in it some strain of despondency. Through no fault in the poet's
-working there is somewhere a flaw in the crystal. We thank him for
-showing us these things as we had not seen them before, but he has
-already tutored us too well. We turn back to the life that he has
-already made necessary to our being in the quiet ways of _The Earthly
-Paradise_ and the great wind-swept world of _Sigurd the Volsung_.
-
-
-
-
-VIII
-
-CONCLUSION
-
-To enquire whether Marlowe was a greater poet than Milton or Milton a
-greater than Keats is but to juggle with words and to spin them into
-nothingness. It is enough that all were great. It is no honour to
-the giants of the earth to pit them one against another for our
-sport. That Morris was or was not the greatest poet of his age or
-century is a matter of complete unimportance upon which nothing
-depends. The supremely important thing, the splendid circumstance,
-is that here again in due season was a man unmistakably moulded in
-heroic proportions, one claiming and proving kinship with the masters
-whose names are but few. If humanity was fortunate enough to see
-others of his peers in his own day we can but be thankful for grace
-so prodigal; but, however that may be, here at least was one
-establishing anew the proudest succession of mankind. The creator of
-_Sigurd the Volsung_ and so much more that is compact of sane and
-wholesome magnificence has his rightful company, and it may well be
-the gladdest boast of the world that he has; but in that company
-there are no degrees. Æschylus, Homer, Virgil, Dante, Michael
-Angelo, Shakespeare, Milton, Goethe, Beethoven, Wagner, Shelley,
-Wordsworth--there is an inspiration to the lips in the very names of
-these men and their fellows, but there must be no disputation as to
-the headship in their presence; they themselves will but laugh if
-they heed us at all. And Morris is, as I see him, clearly of that
-fellowship. By some strange generosity of nature he was not only
-allowed to give great poetry to the world, but also to readjust for
-us the significance of life in phases a little lower than the
-highest. It happened that a man who had the profoundest sense of the
-real nature of circumstance and conditions in his generation could
-enforce his direct and practical teaching by a creative imagination
-of the highest order. It would, perhaps, be fitter to say that in
-this man a supreme creative faculty was allied to another faculty
-that enabled him to interpret his imaginative art to the world in
-terms of immediate practice. The result of this is that although the
-indirect influence of his creative art--and that is always the
-profoundest influence in these things--is neither more nor less
-definable than that of other men of an equal power, his direct
-influence not upon abstract or scientific thought but upon the
-spiritual perception of men, has perhaps been more instant and
-far-reaching than that of any man in the history of English genius.
-It is, indeed, difficult to find anywhere a precise parallel to the
-curious phenomenon that was Morris. Experience proves the advent of
-a great poet to be apparently capricious, the unconsidered whim of
-powers that make but little distinction of seasons. The "Songs of
-Innocence" were quite definitely sung in the wilderness. But that
-manifestation of genius which covers a range wider than its own
-finest creation, and takes on something of universality in pervading
-itself not only with its own life but with the life of the world,
-would seem to be reserved for days that mark the culmination of some
-memorable epoch of imaginative activity, and in itself to be the
-crowning expression of such days. Michael Angelo and Shakespeare
-came at times when national life had been running with rare spiritual
-force for some years; when, that is to say, the world was cherishing
-beauty and had rich gifts to offer such men when they arose. The
-great word was but seeking a voice, and it is difficult to dissociate
-Michael Angelo from the impulse of Renaissance Italy, or Shakespeare
-from the impulse of Elizabethan England. The mighty utterance of
-these men was their own, wrought into its perfection by their
-separate and distinctive temperaments; of the essential isolation of
-the artist I have already spoken. But it is nevertheless an
-utterance in some measure made possible by the currents of the time
-in which it came and one for which an examination of the immediately
-preceding years prepares us. These men are exultant figures
-challenging the world for ever from heights that they did not build
-unaided. This, of course, does not effect their achievement, and the
-subordination of many splendid forces to one supreme end is, perhaps,
-the highest exercise of the faculty of design in the cosmic genius.
-The coming of such men is not less moving because it seems to be
-inevitable, but that it does seem inevitable is clear. There are,
-too, times when men move, as it were, in a kind of receptive stupor,
-times when great forces are latent in their midst; it is possible for
-a man of this imaginative universality to arrive at such a time
-without any apparent preparation in the days before him, and, being
-at once the pioneer and culmination of a new era, yet not to excite
-our astonishment as well as our worship, because the time, although
-lending him no impulse, at least offers him no resistance. The world
-could not be said to be expecting Goethe or--Collins and Gray
-notwithstanding--Wordsworth, and yet we are not surprised when we
-come to these men, because we have been moving through darkness
-between light and light, and have been expecting any new and sudden
-revelation that might be made--expecting to be surprised. Goethe and
-Wordsworth, unlike Michael Angelo and Shakespeare, did not appear as
-the final and perfect articulation of a word passed freely from lip
-to lip by their fellows, but they were at least allowed to speak
-without any violent denial being implicit in the whole intellectual
-and spiritual and artistic attitude of their time. Having the
-revelation of new temperaments to make, they found, inevitably,
-isolated voices of criticism against them, but, save for these, the
-age, although not demanding them as the logical issue of its own
-effort, at least did not appear to be essentially unfitted to produce
-them. _Lyrical Ballads_ was printed at a time that had no deliberate
-artistic purpose of its own, but was, nevertheless, ripe for some new
-and striking manifestation of the spirit of man. The night had
-already lasted over-long. Wordsworth, it is true, came strangely
-early in the new day, but although the great voice in the dawn was
-unusual, it was not amazing.
-
-These men, it would seem then, are to be looked for in a time that
-either demands them for its own sublimated utterance or is at least
-negatively ready to receive them. Morris, however, whose genius was
-distinguished clearly by this universality, not only was not the
-essential figure of a great movement that had grown before and about
-him, but he came at a time that, far from demanding him as its
-natural fulfilment, was not even waiting to receive any new
-impression that might be struck upon it. When Tennyson had sounded
-his clearest music and Browning had wrought his subtlest perceptions
-into poetry, it was felt that the highest achievement of a new age
-had been reached. Then when the wonderful second summer of the
-romantic revival seemed to be exhausted, Swinburne gave to it a new
-term of strong life. Taking all the material that the new poetry had
-used since the first beginnings over a hundred years earlier, he
-blended it with his own temperament and gift of speech and, when men
-looked for no more than the quiet lapse into imitation and echoes, he
-showed it to be capable of an added and ringing significance that had
-been wholly unexpected. Taking language at the value that use had
-allotted to it, he not only retained the poetry that had already been
-found in those values but made it clear that no one had wrung the
-full measure of poetry from them. After this piling of crest above
-crest no further great expression could justly be looked for until in
-due time a fresh impulse had been fostered to its full strength. The
-Victorian development of romantic poetry had reached its splendid
-final achievement, and quiet if not wholly songless years would have
-been the natural succession. And yet, at the very time that
-Swinburne was lending this last glory to the marvellous epoch of
-which Collins had been the herald, another poet was already
-announcing a new day with the authentic voice of a master. The
-eternal impulse that conspired with Morris's own vision to create his
-poetry is, perhaps, more difficult to define than in the case of any
-other poet. It certainly is not to be found in his own age, and
-although to say that he sought to continue the mediæval tradition may
-account for much in his literary form, it does not help very greatly
-in the understanding of his spiritual temper. The fact is that in
-its fundamental qualities Morris's art came as near as any art can do
-to being unaffected by any external impulse at all. His love for
-certain aspects of mediævalism did not prevent him from reaching far
-beyond them both in the construction and the philosophy of his art.
-The quality in mediæval art that chiefly attracted him was its direct
-simplicity, and this quality he took up into his own work. Instead
-of using words for their cumulative poetic value he threw poetry over
-words that had hitherto gone naked. Apart from a few of his early
-poems and the use that he makes of models from time to time in verse
-forms, there is scarcely any evidence in the manner of his work that
-he had ever read any of the poetry before him. Reducing life to its
-simplest equation, he embodied it in an utterance as simple. But, in
-its interpretation of life, the world that he created was rather a
-world of the future than a world of the past, and it incorporates the
-essence of the spiritual and intellectual experience of the ages that
-had passed between, say, Chaucer and his own day. The intensity of
-his vision and the certainty with which he disentangled the essential
-from the ephemeral forced in him an utterance of a nature not unlike
-that of the earlier masters whom he was never tired of praising, but
-it is a mistake to suppose that he saw the history of the world shorn
-of five centuries. He was not misled into thinking that the
-fundamental meaning of life had changed, but he knew that man's power
-of adjusting his understanding to that meaning develops and is
-increased by the succession of prophetic voices, and in assimilating
-the cumulative growth of this power he was modern in the only worthy
-and valuable way. He applied a definitely modern faculty of analysis
-and definition to the permanent things of life, and embodied it in an
-utterance that was clearly his own but coloured in the shaping by a
-mediæval rather than any other influence.
-
-That such a poet should come was in itself not remarkable, but that
-he should come at such a moment was a phenomenon scarcely to be
-paralleled in literature. The current tradition of poetry when he
-was writing was not only hostile to his method, but in a negative way
-it had helped to make the age one peculiarly unfitted for his
-message. The eager selfishness of the new scientific thought had
-paid but little attention to the social ideal for which Morris stood.
-This neglect the poets had either flattered or, certainly, had not
-opposed, and the result was that at a time when poetry was passing
-through one of its most memorable epochs, the life of the people was
-suffused with vulgarity and meanness. Neither art nor science,
-whatever else they might be doing, realized that the basis of a
-wholesome national life is a delight among the people in their daily
-labour. The people did not discover this for themselves, and when
-Morris wanted to furnish his rooms he was forced to make his own
-chairs and tables. His work henceforward was to show his age its
-errors on the one hand in his social teaching, and on the other in
-his poetry and craftsmanship to announce its possibilities. This was
-a perfectly natural result of the influence of the conditions that
-surrounded him upon his own creative impulse, but how that impulse
-came to birth among such conditions must remain a splendid
-perplexity. Morris's work was directed to certain ends by the
-requirements of his age, but his spirit was one to which the age had
-no logical claim. He came not in due time but by some large
-generosity of the gods.
-
-When a great poet comes not unexpectedly but as the natural and full
-development of a long tradition, it is easy not only to estimate the
-positive value of his own achievement, but also to trace or even to
-predict his influence upon his successors. New poets will come,
-possessing some measure of genuine inspiration, and carry the
-tradition through to its quiet and often lovely close; they will take
-their honourable places about the few commanding figures, worthy of
-their kinship and proud of it. But when the great poet happens to be
-at the beginning instead of at the full day of an epoch, we can but
-await the event. Morris not only discovered a new world in his art,
-but he was allowed to explore and establish it. His word was not one
-of rumour and promise alone, but more or less of fulfilment. Strands
-of his influence have already been drawn through the art and life of
-his followers, but the work that has been done in deliberate
-imitation of his is scarcely recognizable as such. A poet may
-imitate Tennyson with some success because he may inherit the same
-tradition that shaped Tennyson; the impulse is already in his blood
-towards the expression and temper of which his model is the
-consummation. But there is no such tradition behind Morris; his art
-was in a peculiar degree the creation of his own vision alone, and
-that is a thing which is beyond imitation. The new tradition that
-Morris himself began may or may not be carried along a clear line of
-progression, but it can only be taken up in its full compass by a
-poet that shall be not far short of Morris's own stature, and by the
-time he comes it is possible that the influence of the author of
-_Sigurd_ may have done its work by operating indirectly through many
-new movements rather than through a direct succession of its own
-begetting. If this should happen, Morris's influence will be no less
-valuable a force in the world, but it is not unlikely that when the
-history of poetry in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries comes to
-be written, he will stand as a lonely titanic figure, excelled by
-none in the depth and range of his art, but outside any categorical
-lines of development.
-
-About Morris's own attitude towards his art a good deal of nonsense
-has been written. It appears, for example, that he once, in a moment
-of irresponsible conversation, said that poetry was 'tommy rot.' The
-remark had, of course, the exact value of all such small talk, but it
-is the kind of thing that has been solemnly advanced as a proof that
-he was primarily what is commonly called a man of action, who wrote
-poetry as a pleasant recreation. The truth is, of course, that
-Morris was a great artist, and knew that he was a great artist.
-That, to him, was the supremely important thing, because his art
-meant for him the sweetest and noblest life that he could perceive
-through his imagination. As a man of action he proved himself fully
-when occasion arose, but he undertook his propagandist work with
-reluctance and often turned from it in disgust. It was not that he
-was ever for a moment in doubt as to the excellence of the end at
-which such work was aiming, but that he knew that his own great work
-in the world, the work by which he could most effectually help it a
-little towards that end, was his art. To suggest that the man who
-created _Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_, _Sigurd_ and _Love is
-Enough_ had anything but the profoundest reverence for his art, and
-especially for the supreme expression of his art--poetry--would be a
-preposterous insult if it were not ludicrous. Art was his gospel,
-and all his social teaching and activity were but an effort to bring
-his gospel to pass upon earth.
-
-We can imagine a race that had attained a wisdom fuller than has yet
-been found, adopting one simple form of daily supplication. Always
-from the people's lips this prayer should go up, "Lord, give us
-character." Character. That is the supreme need of man, and it is
-simply the faculty of being himself and expressing himself in all the
-conduct of his life. He may not be a very great man, or a very wise
-man, or even a very good man, but if he be himself he may, in some
-measure he must, become these. There is, at the outset, the
-necessity of material opportunity for so being himself. One who is
-overworked, or employed all the while in degrading work, or
-insufficiently paid for his work, one who is, in short, driven,
-cannot be himself, just as the man who is denied the chance of
-working at all cannot be himself. But, given the material
-opportunity, the power of proving his character, of asserting his
-individuality, of being himself, is inherent in every man. And this
-Morris felt with the whole energy of his being. He saw men having no
-adventurousness in their own spirits, dulled by routine, and with
-their own wills bent and impoverished by the will of some one else,
-degraded into mere echoes and reflections. He saw that the crying
-need of the world was character, and he sought to teach men that in
-bringing back joy to their daily work they would put their feet on
-the first step towards the only true dignity and pride of life. The
-satisfaction that comes of a piece of work truly done and having in
-it something of the soul of the worker was, to him, a holy thing.
-His own craftsmanship and manufacture were the expression of a man
-with this conviction; his imaginative writing was of a world peopled
-by such men. The spiritual exaltation of which I have spoken, the
-finer tissue of some mysterious emotional experience that is laid
-over the definable substance of poetry, is always in his work,
-translating its message into the imaginative terms of art; but the
-message itself is perfectly articulated, and it is one of the
-profoundest and most inspiriting that it has been given to any man to
-deliver. Other poets have given us courage to face a world fallen
-into uncharitable ways, or directed us to secluded places where we
-may forget the dust and trouble of a life that we must accept as an
-unfortunate necessity, or given good promise of revelation and
-comfort in a life to come; but none has ever announced so clearly as
-Morris the hope of life here upon earth. Cloistered quiet was an
-impossible state to this man who so loved fellowship, and the world
-beyond death he was content to leave to its own proving. But he did
-not endeavour to encourage men to face the life that he knew was
-unwholesome and draining them of freedom and manhood; he cried to
-them to destroy it and he showed them in his art the life that might
-be theirs in its stead.
-
-The basis of Morris's social creed was an unchanging faith in the
-essential dignity of the nature of man. The trickeries and
-jealousies that beset our commercial phase of civilization he refused
-to accept as being fundamental in humanity, thinking of them rather
-as ill habits imposed upon humanity by some cruel sport of
-circumstance that made men forgetful of their own better instincts.
-He did not suppose that habits that had been slowly assimilated could
-be put off in a moment of violent reaction, but he never doubted if
-once men could be brought to consider the real purpose of traffic and
-social community, and so free themselves from a tyranny that endured
-only because part of its method was to carry its victims along in a
-continuous necessity of adjusting themselves to the immediate moment
-without allowing them to pause for reflection and see life in its
-completeness, that then these habits would inevitably be set aside.
-His desire always was that men should at least be allowed to prove
-themselves freely. From the turbulent passions and sorrows
-inseparable from humanity he asked no escape, taking them gladly as
-the darker threads in the many-coloured web of our heritage, but he
-denounced fiercely the doctrine that, finding men forced into daily
-betrayal of themselves, blandly announced that here was proof of
-their radical meanness and unworth. For the people who told him that
-before he could hope for the world of his imagining he must change
-human nature, he had a fine contempt. That this cleaner life was
-realizable on earth, and that without any revolutionary excesses, he
-showed as clearly in the work of his own life as any one man could
-do. He conducted a large business enterprise profitably and in open
-competition, but he did not degrade labour in employing it. He
-accepted the normal conditions of society in public and family life,
-but he did not allow them to cramp or violate his own personality.
-He realized fully that a great social fabric is not constructed out
-of mere unreason, and he had no wish to destroy systems that had been
-evolved from perfectly sound impulses; the thing that he fought
-against with all his extraordinary power was their abuse. Principles
-of exchange and of labour for the common good were a necessary
-complement of his belief that a man must get from his labour two
-things: joy in the work itself and the means whereby to live; but he
-knew that the real significance of these principles had been
-forgotten. His life was an active endeavour to impress it once again
-on the mind of the people, and in his poetry was the same endeavour
-embodied in creative imagination.
-
-Writing of the northern stories Morris said, 'Well, sometimes we must
-needs think that we shall live again; yet if that were not, would it
-not be enough that we helped to make this unnameable glory, and lived
-not altogether deedless? Think of the joy we have in praising great
-men, and how we turn their stories over and over, and fashion their
-lives for our joy: and this also we ourselves may give to the world.'
-It was curiously prophetic of that which we feel about Morris
-himself. His life, his art, the figure of the man, all fit into the
-outlines of a heroic story such as those that he loved. He gave,
-indeed, to the world in this manner and in large measure. And he
-added generously to the joy that we have in praising great men.
-
-
-
-THE END
-
-
-
- WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD.
- PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
-
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of William Morris, by John Drinkwater
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: William Morris
- A Critical Study
-
-Author: John Drinkwater
-
-Release Date: September 24, 2020 [EBook #63288]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILLIAM MORRIS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Al Haines
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3b">
-WILLIAM MORRIS
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- <i>UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME:</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- J. M. SYNGE<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By P. P. Howe<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- HENRIK IBSEN<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By R. Ellis Roberts<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- THOMAS HARDY<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By Lascelles Abercrombie<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- GEORGE GISSING<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By Frank Swinnerton<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By A. Martin Freeman<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By Edward Thomas<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-front"></a>
-<br />
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="William Morris. from a photograph by Frederick Hollyer." />
-<br />
-William Morris. <br />
-from a photograph by Frederick Hollyer.
-</p>
-
-<h1>
-<br /><br />
- WILLIAM MORRIS<br />
-</h1>
-
-<p class="t2">
- A CRITICAL STUDY<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="t3b">
- BY<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="t2">
- JOHN DRINKWATER<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3b">
- LONDON<br />
- MARTIN SECKER<br />
- NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET<br />
- ADELPHI<br />
- MCMXII<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- <i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- POEMS OF MEN AND HOURS, 1911<br />
- COPHETUA. A Play in One Act, 1911<br />
- POEMS OF LOVE AND EARTH, 1912<br />
- ETC.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3">
- TO<br />
- ERNEST NEWMAN<br />
- <i>Who Loves the Arts<br />
- With a Just and Fine Impatience</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3b">
-NOTE
-</p>
-
-<p>
-A few paragraphs in this book are reprinted,
-by permission of Messrs. George Routledge and
-Sons, Ltd., from introductions written for The
-Muses' Library; others, by permission of the
-Editor, from articles contributed to <i>The Nation</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-My thanks are due to William Morris's
-Trustees for permission to use such quotations
-from his works as I wished, and to Miss May
-Morris for her generous assistance in this and
-other matters. My indebtedness to Mr. Mackail
-I have acknowledged in more than one place in
-the body of this volume, but I should like here
-to emphasize my appreciation of the service
-that he has done to all who reverence Morris
-and his work.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I would also thank my friend, Mr. Oliver
-W. F. Lodge, for the many delightful hours that I
-have spent with him in talking of a poet whom
-we both love. What understanding I may have
-of Morris has been deepened and quickened by
-his enthusiasm and fine judgment. No thanks
-that I might offer to another friend could be in
-any way adequate; in inscribing this book to
-him I can but make slight acknowledgment
-of one of those whole-hearted services that
-stand for so much in the craft of letters.
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-J. D.
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Birmingham</i>, 1912.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3b">
- CONTENTS<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- <a href="#chap01">INTRODUCTORY</a><br />
- <a href="#chap02">EARLY POEMS AND PROSE</a><br />
- <a href="#chap03">INTERLUDE</a><br />
- <a href="#chap04">NARRATIVE POEMS</a><br />
- <a href="#chap05">LOVE IS ENOUGH AND SIGURD THE VOLSUNG</a><br />
- <a href="#chap06">TRANSLATIONS AND SOCIALISM</a><br />
- <a href="#chap07">PROSE ROMANCES AND POEMS BY THE WAY</a><br />
- <a href="#chap08">CONCLUSION</a><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap01"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-I
-<br /><br />
-INTRODUCTORY
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-To the isolation, the loneliness, of the poet,
-criticism is apt to give far less than due heed.
-At a time when literature is daily becoming
-more responsive to the new spirit which we call
-Democracy, such a complaint may seem to be
-reactionary in temper, and some explanation
-may be made by way of defence against any
-such possible charge. Nothing is more disastrous
-to a poet than that he should dissociate
-his art from the life of the world; until the
-conflict and destiny of humanity have become
-the subjects of his contemplation he cannot
-hope to bring to his creation that vitality which
-alone makes for permanence. Ultimately it is
-the great normal life of mankind which is
-immortal, and the perishable things are the
-grotesque, the odd, the experiences which are
-incomplete because they are unrelated to the
-general experience. But whilst the insistence
-that the poet should be swiftly responsive to the
-life about him is perfectly just, indeed inevitable
-in any right understanding of art, it is equally
-necessary to remember always that the poet's
-vision itself is turned upon life from places
-remote and untrodden, that the seasons of his
-contemplation are seasons of seclusion. To say
-that the poet is the product of his age is to be
-deceived by one of the most dangerous of critical
-half-truths. The poet is the product of his own
-temperament and personality, or he is nothing.
-Clearly, if the age in which the poet lived were
-in any wide sense his creator, the poets of an
-age would bear unmistakable tokens of their
-relationship. The perfectly obvious fact that
-they do not do so is, however, no obstacle to the
-criticism that wishes to satisfy its own primary
-assumption that with the age does remain this
-supreme function of making its own poets.
-Recognizing that its theory demands the presence
-of such affinity in its support, this criticism
-proceeds, in violation of the most direct evidence,
-to discover the necessary likeness. Perhaps the
-crowning achievement of this ineptitude is the
-constant coupling of the names of Tennyson
-and Browning. If ever two poets were wholly
-unrelated to each other in their reading of life
-and spiritual temper, they were the poets of "In
-Memoriam" and "Pippa Passes," of "Crossing
-the Bar" and "Prospice." But the accident of
-their being contemporaries is taken as sufficient
-reason for endless comparisons and complacent
-decisions as to their relative greatness, leading
-nowhere and establishing nothing. And parallel
-cases are common enough: Gray and Collins,
-Shelley and Keats, and, in daily practice, any
-one poet and any other whose books happen to
-be on the table at the same moment.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The relation of the age to its poets is that of
-sunlight to a landscape. The trees and the
-rivers, the hills and the plains, all turn to the
-same source for the power whereby to express
-themselves, the same light is upon them all.
-But no one thinks in consequence of comparing
-Snowdon with the Thames. Without his age a
-poet cannot speak, but the thing that his age
-empowers him to utter is that which is within
-him. His song, if it be a song of worth, is a
-manifestation apart from the age, from everything
-whatever save his own spiritual distinction.
-In this sense the poet must always be isolated
-and lonely, and it is solely by divining the
-secrets of this isolation and loneliness, not
-concerning itself unduly with circumstantial kinship
-in expression that may exist between one poet
-and another, that criticism may justify itself.
-Occasionally a poet may arise whose faculty has
-a vital sympathy with another's, whose vision
-may accord in some measure with that of one
-perhaps centuries dead. Then enquiry as to the
-affinity is likely to be fruitful. The poet is not
-so much a reflection of his age as a commentary
-upon it and its attitude towards life. Twenty
-poets may be writing together, the age reacting
-upon their creative energy in every instance, but
-it is more than probable that the essential
-significance of their work will be alike in no two
-cases. So that in writing about Morris my
-purpose is chiefly to discover what are the aim
-and ultimate achievement of his artistic activity;
-in a smaller degree to ascertain what was his
-relation to his age; to compare him with his
-contemporary creators scarcely at all, believing
-such comparisons to be misguided in intention
-and negative in result.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-To attempt a new definition of poetry is a
-task sufficiently uninviting. And yet it is well
-to be clear in one's own mind, or as clear as
-possible, as to what one is writing about. If I
-try to set down, with as little vagueness as may
-be, the nature of my conception of the meaning
-of poetry, I do so in all humility, not in any way
-suggesting that here at last the eternal riddle
-has been solved, but merely to define the point
-from which I start, the standard which I have
-in mind. It is certain that each man of
-intelligence and fine feeling will make his own demand
-as to the values of poetry. A man's worship is
-directed at last by his needs, and it is as vain in
-art as in life to seek to impose a love where
-there is no corresponding receptivity, assuming,
-of course a quick intelligence and not one
-stupefied. A man spiritually asleep may be
-awakened, but once awake his adventures must
-be chiefly controlled by himself. Fitzgerald
-was a man of taste and understanding, but he
-did not care for Homer and found <i>The Life
-and Death of Jason</i> 'no go.' Arnold was as
-passionate a man as might be in his allegiance to
-art, notwithstanding the somewhat false report
-bestowed upon him by his so-called classicism,
-and we know his estimate of Shelley and of
-Byron, whilst Swinburne would have denounced
-him with equal vigour for his indifference
-on the one hand and his commendation on
-the other. These differences do not, of course,
-diminish the value of critical opinion, they
-merely point to the futility of attempting to
-find any common touchstone, and counsel a
-wise humility and tolerance. That Arnold and
-Swinburne demanded different things in poetry
-reflects to the discredit of neither. All men
-who care for the arts are pledged to refuse the
-false, the mean, and the vulgar at all seasons;
-but they do well to remain silent in the presence
-of things which they know to be none of these
-yet find themselves unable to love. Without
-this love criticism is ineffectual. Macaulay in
-writing of Montgomery merely antedated the
-ruin of a reputation by a decade or two; in
-writing of Milton he helped in the discipline of
-our understanding. Morris is for me among the
-supremely important poets, but I know that to
-some men to whose powers of perception I bow
-he is not of such vital significance. I do not
-dispute their conclusions; I can only endeavour
-to explain and justify my own.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Poetry seems to me to be the announcement
-of spiritual discovery. Experience might be
-substituted for discovery, for every experience
-which is vital and personal is, in effect, a
-discovery. The discovery need not be at all new to
-mankind; it is, indeed, inevitable that it will not
-be so. Nor need it be new to the poet himself.
-To every man spiritually alive the coming of
-spring is an experience recurrent yet always
-vital, always a discovery. Nearly every new
-poet writes well about the spring, just as every
-new poet writes well about love. So powerful
-is the creative impulse begotten by these
-experiences that it impels many men to attempt
-utterance without any adequate powers, and so
-the common gibes find their justification. But it
-is absurd to pronounce against the creative
-impulse itself whilst condemning the inefficient
-expression. The bad love poetry of the world
-is excluded from my definition not because it is
-unconcerned with discovery, but because it is
-not, in any full sense, an announcement. The
-articulation is not clear. And by reason of this
-defect a great deal of other writing which has
-behind it a perfectly genuine impulse is excluded
-also. On the other hand, much verse which has
-a good deal of perfection in form perishes, is,
-indeed, never alive, because its reason has been
-something other than spiritual discovery. But
-whenever these things are found together, the
-discovery and the announcement, then is poetry
-born, and at no other time. The magnitude of
-the poet's achievement depends on the range
-of his discovery and the completeness of his
-announcement. If I add that verse seems to me
-to be the only fitting form for poetry, I do so
-with full knowledge that weighty evidence and
-valuable opinion are against me. Nevertheless
-the term prose-poem seems to be an abomination.
-The poet in creation, that is to say the poet
-in the act of announcing spiritual discovery,
-will find his utterance assuming a rhythmical
-pattern. The pattern may be quite irregular and
-flowing, but unless it is discernible the impulse is
-incomplete in its effect. To think of the music
-of verse as merely an arbitrary adornment of
-expression is wholly to misunderstand its value.
-It is an integral part of expression in its highest
-manifestation. It is in itself expression. There
-is an exaltation at the moment of discovery
-which is apart from the discovery itself, a
-buoyancy as of flight. The significance of this
-exaltation is indefinable, having in it something of
-divinity. To the words of poetry it is given to
-announce the discovery; to the music to embody
-and in some inadequate measure translate the
-ecstasy which pervades the discovery. The
-poet's madness is happily not a myth; for to
-be mad is to be ecstatic.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-A poet who in rather more than a generation
-had produced a small volume of exquisite work
-complained that a poet's greatness was too often
-measured by the bulk of his activity.
-Examination of the nature of the poet's function
-shows the complaint to be groundless. A man
-may indeed be immortal by virtue of a stanza
-if not of a single line. Edward Dyer's report
-could ill bear the loss of 'My mind to me a
-kingdom is.' And Martin Tupper passes with
-his interminable jingles safely into oblivion. But
-if a man is truly possessed of the poetic fire, we
-must accept as no negligible measure of his
-greatness not only the force with which it burns,
-but also the frequency. Dr. Johnson came
-nearer to the truth than is generally admitted
-when he said that the poet who had to wait for
-'inspiration' was in a bad way. He was not
-altogether right, for in practice it is possible for
-the poet to lose his technical cunning for long
-periods, which really amounts to saying that
-there are times when the spiritual discovery is
-unaccompanied by the ecstatic exaltation. But
-he based his pronouncement on sound sense, as
-was his habit. What he meant was that a poet,
-before he could lay just claim to high rank,
-must so discipline himself to disentangle the
-significant from the insignificant in life as it
-presented itself to him day by day, that he
-should never be at a loss for something to say,
-that he should not have to wait for the event.
-Milton was not careless in his use of words, and
-when he said, 'I was confirmed in this opinion,
-that he who would not be frustrated of his hope
-to write well hereafter in laudable things ought
-himself to be a true poem ... not presuming
-to sing high praises of heroic men or famous
-cities, unless he have in himself the experience
-and practice of all that which is praiseworthy,'
-he revealed the secret of the poet's necessity
-with perfect precision. The greater and more
-vital the poet, the less will he look upon his
-poetry as a casual incident of his life, the more
-will it become for him the impassioned and
-refined expression of his life in its entirety.
-Many men turn from the claims of their daily
-life to art as a recreation. This is far better
-than having no concern with art at all, but it is
-at best but a compromise. In reading a great
-poet we feel that here is a man to whom art and
-life are coincident, inseparable. In other words,
-that he is a man vitally curious about life in
-all its essential aspects, just as another man will
-be curious about market prices or electrical
-development; and just as they must by nature
-give daily expression to their curiosity about
-those relatively trivial things, so must he by
-nature strive to give daily expression to his
-curiosity about that supremely important thing.
-And as their constant preoccupation with those
-ephemeral matters will from time to time bear
-fruit in the shape of some weighty decision as to
-a course of action or the evolution of some new
-design and its application, so will his constant
-preoccupation with the permanent manifestations
-of life from time to time bear fruit as
-a creation of art&mdash;as a poem.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Throughout a life of phenomenal artistic
-energy, Morris never for a moment failed to
-realize this supreme requirement of the poet's
-being. He was pre-eminent in many activities,
-but it is upon his poetry that his reputation will
-ultimately depend, for in his poetry, inevitably,
-is found his clearest challenge to oblivion. Had
-he not written at all he would still have been a
-remarkable and memorable man, but having
-written much, and as poet, his claim as such must
-be considered before all others. And Morris's
-poetry is a permanent record of the man's
-temper, of his spiritual adventures and
-discoveries, not a desultory series of impressions
-imposed by external events, but the continuous
-manifestation of his reading of life. His conception
-of art, formed in his youth, as the expression
-of joy in living, as the immediate and necessary
-outcome of life itself wherever life was full, knew
-no change to the end. Art was this always to
-him, and it had no other value. Nothing made
-by man's hand or brain had any beauty in his
-eyes unless it expressed this intensity of life
-which went to its creation. The talk about art
-for art's sake would have been merely unintelligible
-to him, because the existence of art apart
-from life was inconceivable.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-William Morris was born at Walthamstow on
-the 24th of March, 1834. The external record
-of his life has been given finally by
-Mr. J. W. Mackail in his <i>Life</i>, a book which, besides
-being a storehouse upon which all writers on
-Morris must draw and remain thankful debtors,
-is certainly one of the most beautiful biographies
-in the language. The wisdom of childhood is
-sometimes supposed to lie in the child's attitude
-of unquestioning acceptance, but the truth is that
-it lies in a constant sense of adventure. The
-wisdom of the poet is as the child's in this; for
-both wake daily in the hope and expectancy of
-new revelations. Unquestioning acceptance and
-the stifling of curiosity are the last infirmities of
-foolish minds. Life ceases to be lovely when it
-ceases to be adventurous. Morris in his boyhood
-was rich in a full measure of this wisdom of
-childhood, and by a fortunate circumstance his
-earliest days were spent in surroundings that
-gave ample opportunity for the development of
-his nature. If he owed his creativeness to
-nothing but his own endowment, the colour and
-atmosphere with which his work came to be
-suffused were largely influenced by the memory
-of days spent among the hornbeam thickets of
-the Essex woodlands and the meadows of
-Woodford, on the fringe of Epping Forest, the
-Morris family moving to Woodford Hall when
-the poet was six years old. By this time he was,
-we hear, already 'deep in the Waverley novels,'
-and in this connection we have the authority of
-one of his sisters for a circumstance that is
-curiously prophetic of a quality that was to mark
-his life-work. 'We never remember his learning
-regularly to read.' This instinctive acquisition of
-knowledge was not the least remarkable of Morris's
-faculties. He seemed always to understand the
-things he loved without taking thought. In the
-practical application of his knowledge no labour
-was too great; when he wanted to re-establish
-the art of dyeing, he spent weeks working at the
-vats in Leek; when he was directing the Kelmscott
-Press, whole pages would be rejected for a
-scarcely visible flaw; when he wished to furnish
-his house he found little enough in the market
-to satisfy his conscience, and so became a
-manufacturer; when he was drawn to the stories of
-the North he worked unweariedly with an
-Icelandic scholar and made two pilgrimages&mdash;no
-light undertakings in those days&mdash;to the home
-of his heroes. Miss May Morris in one of her
-admirable introductions to the complete edition
-of her father's works, tells us that he once said,
-'No man can draw armour properly unless he
-can draw a knight with his feet on the hob,
-toasting a herring on the point of his sword.' It
-is easy to understand that he never learnt to
-read, for learning by any laborious process was
-foreign to his nature; knowledge of the things
-that were of importance to him was in some
-obscure way born in him. He would spare no
-pains to shape his knowledge into a serviceable
-instrument, but the knowledge itself was
-inherent in him. He moved among the men of
-the Sagas, of Greek mythology and the old
-romances, as intimately as we ordinarily move
-among the people of the house. Many of his
-friends give independent testimony to the fact
-that he never seems to have learnt deliberately
-of these men; his knowledge of them grew as
-his knowledge of speech and the ways about
-him. In considering his work in detail, the value
-of this instinctive familiarity will be apparent; it
-brings a sense of reality into his stories as could
-nothing else. We are hardly ever given laboured
-details of environment or appearance&mdash;merely a
-few casual strokes of suggestion that, by their
-very assurance and implication of knowledge,
-both on the part of the poet and of his reader,
-carry conviction. For this reason we never
-feel ourselves to be in strange surroundings or
-listening to strange men, and it is this privilege
-of close association with the world of the poet's
-fashioning that enables us to realize how accessible
-is that larger and clearer life of which he
-sings.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Throughout his life not only the beauty but
-the homeliness, the fellowship, of earth was a
-passion with him, and to the Woodford Hall
-days and the rambles over the downs and
-through Savernake, when a little later he was
-one of the earliest Marlborough boys, may be
-traced the beginnings of this strain in his temper.
-In a famous passage in his biography Mr. Mackail
-tells us how the boy, dressed in a suit of toy
-armour, used to ride through the park; how he
-and his brothers used to shoot red-wings and
-fieldfares in the winter holidays and roast them
-before a log fire we may be sure&mdash;for their
-supper; how he longed to shoot pigeons with a
-bow and arrow; how to the end of his life he
-carried with him recollections of stray sounds
-and sights and scents of those childhood days;
-how he would pore over the brasses and monuments
-that he discovered in the churches near to
-his home. It is doubtful whether anyone who
-has not spent some part of his early life in a
-countryside which has none of the striking
-beauties that make a landscape famous, that is,
-in the common phrase, uneventful, can quite
-realize the meaning of all this. In such
-surroundings a peculiar intimacy with the earth is
-born, a nearness to the change of season and the
-nature and moods of the country, which form a
-background of singular values in the whole of
-a man's later development. A man nurtured
-among the more majestic manifestations of
-natural beauty will, if he be a poet, in all
-probability translate his early impressions into single
-memorable passages, but the effect of environment
-such as that in which Morris's childhood
-was passed is of another kind. The whole of
-Morris's work is coloured and sweetened by a
-tenderness for earth which, while it does not fail
-to find at times direct expression of exquisite
-loveliness, is nevertheless a pervasive mood
-rather than a series of isolated impressions. It
-is this circumstance that came to give quite
-common words an unusual significance in his
-poetry. When he speaks of 'the half-ploughed
-field' or 'the blossomed fruit trees' or 'the
-quivering noontide haze' or 'the brown bird's
-tune' or 'the heavy-uddered cows,' or simply
-'the meadows green,' the whole of his passionate
-earth-worship is thrown up with clear-cut
-intensity and his utterance takes on a value
-which is wholly unexplained by the mere words
-of his choice.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-At Marlborough the poet's independence of
-character was already shown. The school-games
-had no attraction for him. Birds'-nesting,
-excursions to outlying churches and ruins,
-explorations of any early remains of which he
-could discover the whereabouts, long walks
-accompanied by the improvisation of endless
-stories of knightly adventure, the reading of
-any books of romance, archæology and architecture
-that came to his hand&mdash;these were his chief
-occupations. Before he left the school, his
-father died, and the family again moved, this
-time to Water House at Walthamstow. Here
-again the boy found full store upon which to
-indulge his imaginative bent. A broad moat, a
-great paved hall, a wooded island, wide marshlands,
-all fitted well with the tendencies that
-had already asserted themselves. When he left
-Marlborough at the age of seventeen, there was
-nothing to show that he was to become a great
-creative artist, but there was everything to
-show the atmosphere in which his work would
-be conceived in such an event. After reading
-with a private tutor for a year, Morris went up
-to Oxford at the beginning of the Lent term in
-1853.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Tennyson had established his reputation with
-the issue of the two volumes of "Poems" in
-1842. Since then he had published "The
-Princess" in 1847, and "In Memoriam" in
-1850, and was already generally acknowledged
-as a great new voice in poetry. Browning with
-"Pauline" in 1833, "Paracelsus" in 1835,
-"Strafford" in 1837, and the series of plays that
-followed, had proved his authenticity, but had
-not yet gained the general recognition that was
-to be brought a little nearer by the "Dramatic
-Lyrics" and "Dramatic Romances" of 1842 and
-1845, and "Christmas Eve and Easter Day" in
-1850. "Men and Women" was not yet
-published. Clough and Arnold had lately
-printed their first books, and seven years were
-to pass before Swinburne's name was to appear
-on a title-page. Rossetti's "Blessed Damozel"
-had been printed in the Pre-Raphaelite
-magazine, "The Germ," but save for a few
-contributions to the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine
-his poetry was to wait until 1870 before being
-given to the public. In prose the influence of
-the teachings of Carlyle and Ruskin was dominating
-criticism and æsthetic thought throughout
-the country, whilst the religious unrest and
-scientific revaluation, that were to leave their
-witness to posterity in the work of men so far
-removed from each other in temper as Newman
-and Darwin, and Arnold and Clough, were
-forcing a full share of men's attention to the
-consideration of abstract ideas.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-To determine the exact measure of the influence
-that the varied expressions of an age's
-intellectual process exercises upon any single
-mind belonging to that age is difficult to the
-point of impossibility. Maeterlinck, in saying
-that the soul of the peasant would not be what
-it is to-day had Plato or Plotinus, of whom he
-has never heard, not lived, endorses the precise
-truth that Shelley uttered when he said that
-poets were the unacknowledged legislators of
-the world. The influence of one mind on another
-is one of the subtlest questions of psychology,
-and the attempt to trace with any precision the
-responsiveness of creative genius at all points to
-the mental movement about it is vain. It would
-be rash to say that the author of "The Origin of
-Species" had no influence on the author of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i>, as it certainly would be
-impossible to define what that influence was. Darwin
-and the Tractarians, the puzzled questionings of
-the sceptics and the conflicting voices of
-assertion and confutation, no doubt meant little
-enough as such to Morris when he went up to
-Oxford. But they were none the less manifestations
-of the age that shaped his power of
-expression, and in a negative and indirect way
-at least they had a share in his development.
-The limits of the influence of any commanding
-creative or speculative mind cannot be laid down.
-The most romantic poet writing to-day would
-be witless to assert that he was wholly
-uninfluenced by, say, Mr. Bernard Shaw or
-Mr. Balfour, for, whether he realizes the fact or not,
-these men form part of the intellectual atmosphere
-in which he is writing. It is a common
-charge against Morris that he alienated himself,
-as a poet, from the questions that were troubling
-his time, as though the poet's theme should
-undergo continual change with the generations.
-All experience is emphatic in its assertion of the
-folly of this attitude. Nothing is more
-dangerous to the poet than to be in too close contact
-with the immediate questions of the moment,
-for, broadly considered, the things of immediate
-importance are the unimportant things. Much
-of our finest creative energy to-day is being
-exhausted in the consideration of problems that
-are local and temporary, not fulfilling its creative
-function with proper completeness, being, rather,
-bravely destructive, an office honourable enough
-but not that of the poet's supreme distinction.
-Morris, from the moment of his earliest artistic
-consciousness, was perfectly clear as to this
-matter. He was not at any time deaf to the
-clamour that came from all sides, nor was he
-indifferent to it. But he found it partly
-incomprehensible, partly unlovely, and partly negative,
-and he turned away from it, not as in retreat
-from a thing that he feared, but in the search
-for the life which it was unable to offer. The
-challenge and counter-challenge of the prophets
-of the millennium and confusion worse confounded,
-the disputations of the two-and-seventy
-jarring sects were not outside the range of
-Morris's consciousness, but he was content at
-first to leave them to their own issues. The
-socialism that was to enter so largely into his
-later life was not the result of a sudden access
-of new feeling, but a further expression, in
-perfectly logical development, of the mental and
-spiritual outlook that was substantially
-unchanged from the first. The new expression,
-when it forced itself upon him, was, indeed, not
-unconnected with a negative and destructive
-programme, but it was in reality no more than
-an attempt to realize the world that he had
-created in his art, the world that contained for
-him the only possible life consistent with free
-beauty and joy. But, with whatever energy he
-threw himself into the new work when it came,
-he never for a moment allowed it to shake his
-artistic creed.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Nothing is further from the truth than the
-common assertion that Morris in his art turned
-from a life of realities to a dream-world, if by a
-dream-world is meant, and I can apply no other
-meaning, a world intangible, unrealizable, and
-remote from practical considerations. We have
-seen that the earth was to Morris from boyhood
-in some sort a sacred thing. And the people of
-the earth were no less. His one overmastering
-passion was for a world wherein men and women
-lived in full responsiveness to the beauty of the
-earth, labouring with their hands and adventurous
-and capricious in spirit, finding joy in
-their work and in contact with each other, and
-rejecting all the things of civilization that were
-dulling and mechanical. To object that in a
-commercial civilization so superficially complex&mdash;the
-complexity is really a thing without the
-subtlety of humanity in it, relatively fixed and
-reducible to exact formulæ&mdash;this passion was in
-effect no more than a rather futile dream, might
-be reasonable if Morris himself had not wholly
-answered the objection in his work. He found
-people not only indifferent to the loveliness of
-earth, but destroying it on every hand; not only
-forgetting the joy of labour, but debasing it into
-a daily burden; measuring the value of all work
-not by the meaning of the work and the spiritual
-satisfaction that it brought but by the wage
-that it earned, and fettered in all their relations
-to each other by countless considerations
-imposed by external conditions that were not
-essential factors in humanity, but the whims of
-a social scheme that mastered men instead of
-being their servant. From the first he realized
-that out of such a life no supreme art could
-spring; the material that they offered was ugly
-and devitalized, and art can only accept for its
-service material beautiful and strong. The
-world as he found it was fettered and numbed,
-and he sought in his art to create a world free
-and exultant, one peopled by perfectly normal
-people whose sorrows were the sorrows of common
-experience and whose sins were the expression
-merely of the darker, but not diseased, passions
-of humanity. When active socialism became
-part of his work, his sole purpose was, in his
-own words, to make socialists, which meant, for
-Morris, to bring men to a sense of the possibility
-of the life of large simplicity that he had
-created as poet. His practice and experiments
-in handicraft and manufacturing process were all
-experiments of the same spirit; throughout his
-many-sided activities an extraordinary unity of
-intention can be clearly traced. Morris at the
-loom, or decorating a page, or riding his pony
-through the Icelandic fords, or proving colours
-in the vats, or moving among the haymakers in
-the Kelmscott meadows, was but one of the men
-with whom he peopled his stories. He wanted
-all men to attain to this same joyous energy,
-and the fierce denunciations and charges of his
-socialistic days were no more than another
-expression of this desire.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-At Oxford the good beginnings of Woodford
-Hall and Savernake were given every opportunity
-to develop. He found himself associated
-with men whose ideals and enthusiasms were as
-his own. He went into residence in the same
-term as Edward Burne-Jones, and quickly laid
-the foundations of a lifelong friendship of more
-than common loyalty. It is usual to speak
-regretfully of the growth of modern Oxford. The
-mediæval town has, indeed, surrounded itself
-with reaches of quite unlovely slums and
-suburbs giving just reason for the regret. But, as
-was said in reply to one who was deploring the
-vulgarities which have been carried into modern
-Venice, 'Exactly, but what else in the world is
-there like it?' Oxford has suffered a change,
-but in Oxford there are yet survivals scarcely to
-be found elsewhere in England. The quadrangles,
-the bye-streets that curl between the
-colleges and churches, the succession of spires
-and grey walls, still preserve unbroken a
-tradition that goes back to the days when men lived,
-or so Morris believed, as the men of whom he
-sang. And in 1853 the tradition, if not clearer,
-was less threatened by opposing interests than
-it is to-day. With the scholastic discipline,
-or lack of it, at Oxford in his time Morris had
-little or no concern, but he could have found no
-place more fitting in which to shape his
-imaginative powers. With Burne-Jones and others
-of his friends he spent many priceless hours
-determining all things in heaven and earth with
-the fine certainty of youth, reading mediæval
-chronicles and Thorpe's "Northern Mythology,"
-exploring the enchanted worlds of the poets and
-stirred to new enthusiasms by the latest word
-of Ruskin or the newly-discovered revelation of
-some prophet of an older day. Architecture
-had already taken its place in his mind as one of
-the noblest of the expressions of man's exultation
-in his work, and the intention which he had at
-this time of entering the church was manifestly
-inspired rather by ecclesiastical art than by any
-doctrine or dogma. The long vacations of 1853
-and 1854 he spent in visiting the churches of
-England and Northern France, and in making
-his first acquaintance with the work of Van
-Eyck and Memling and Dürer. In painting, as
-in the other arts, he looked already for the grave
-yet vigorous simplicity, and that sense of the
-profound seriousness of joy that were to be the
-essential characteristics of his own work. His
-love for mediævalism was neither accident nor
-the fruit of any refusal to face his own age. It
-was the logical outcome of this intense
-conviction that most of the men about him were
-exhausting their energies and deadening their
-faculties in the conduct of trivial and
-inessential things. In the records of the mediæval
-spirit, in its art, he found the temper which
-more clearly than any other was at once a
-warning and a corrective to this wastage. A
-year spent at Oxford in the company of men
-who shared his enthusiasms had sharpened his
-imagination and quickened his creative instinct.
-He was now ready for Malory and Chaucer and
-the revelation of Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelites.
-With a perfectly defined ideal already
-developed in his consciousness, he was beginning
-to write. It only needed contact with these
-new influences to make his utterance certain and
-invest the ideal with artistic expression.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When in 1855 he came of age, Morris found
-himself the possessor of an annual income of
-£900, the result of a fortunate business
-transaction made by his father a short time before he
-died. Burne-Jones had already announced, in
-a letter to a friend, his intention of forming a
-'Brotherhood,' the purpose of which, shared by
-Morris among others, was, of course, nothing less
-than the regeneration of mankind. Sir Galahad
-was to be the patron of the order, the nature of
-which was to be a strange blending of social
-activity and monastic seclusion. The scheme
-in detail&mdash;if it ever reached so advanced a
-stage&mdash;passed into the splendid story of youthful
-enthusiasms, but its principal projectors never
-wavered in their loyalty to its spirit. To a man
-so fired, the possession of £900 a year was a
-responsibility not to be lightly considered. It
-left him free to choose his course, and it was an
-integral part of his faith that that course should
-be laid wholly in the service of his ideal. For a
-time his choice was uncertain; his original
-intention of entering the church led to a momentary
-idea of founding a monastery with his money.
-But the gradually widening influence of the
-adventurousness of art that was working in him
-made him less and less willing to commit himself
-to any irrevocable step. He was beginning to
-realize his powers; his friends, who were no
-dishonest critics, confirmed his own feeling that
-his earliest poems were signs of a remarkable
-creative faculty. But he was not yet certain as
-to the ways into which his art would lead him.
-Painting and architecture divided his allegiance
-with literature, and behind his consideration of
-all was the vague but unalterable determination
-to use his art in the service of mankind. His
-decision was wisely deferred until it should force
-itself upon him.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The first practical step taken by the
-Brotherhood&mdash;the friends retained the original name
-whilst renouncing all their monastic intentions&mdash;was
-the foundation of "The Oxford and Cambridge
-Magazine." Chaucer had been discovered,
-and the group's somewhat austere asceticism had
-been sweetened by the charity of the poet to
-whom Morris was henceforth never to fail in
-discipleship. A copy of the Pre-Raphaelite
-"Germ" had also established Rossetti in the
-friends' worship, and they had seen some of his
-paintings, together with those of Millais and
-Holman Hunt and Madox Brown. In all these
-things Morris found the conception of life that
-he had already made his own, in beautiful and
-more or less complete expression. Twelve
-numbers of the magazine appeared, financed by
-Morris. Its aim was the expression of the
-Brotherhood's artistic creed and its loyalty to
-the essential idea of the identity of art with
-life. Rossetti was among its contributors. Of
-Morris's own work in the venture, his earliest
-poems and prose romances, something will be
-said in the next chapter.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Before leaving Oxford Morris and Burne-Jones
-together definitely abandoned their idea
-of entering the church. The latter decided on
-the work to which his life was to be devoted,
-whilst Morris formally adopted architecture as a
-profession. Arrangements were made for him to
-enter G. E. Street's Oxford office, and after a
-second visit to France and its churches and
-passing his Final schools, he took up his new
-work at the beginning of 1856. In his spare
-time he continued his writing and tried his hand
-at craftsmanship. Burne-Jones went up to
-London a few months later. Morris followed shortly
-when Street moved his headquarters. Together
-they formed a close acquaintance with Rossetti.
-That dominating personality was not slow to
-recognize the powers of his new friends, and
-insisted that Morris should turn painter,
-asserting, with an inconsequence worthy of one of
-Oscar Wilde's creations, that everybody should
-be a painter. His proposal, although it had no
-permanent effect on Morris, showed that the
-election of architecture was not unalterable.
-For a time Morris painted, throwing into the
-work the energy that was inseparable from all
-his undertakings, but he was quick to realize
-that with all his understanding of the painter's
-art he could not achieve its mastery. The fact
-that he had been tempted to alter his choice
-even tentatively, however, was enough to make
-him suspicious of the choice itself. Without any
-conviction as to the possibility of a career as
-a painter, he abandoned his profession as architect
-at the end of a year. His state was one of
-considerable danger. Rich enough to make work
-unnecessary as a means of living, exposed to
-an influence so impetuous as Rossetti's, already
-showing considerable power in several forms of
-expression as an artist, wholly unable to
-dissociate one from the other, seeing but one
-purpose behind them all, there was a probability,
-in the light of experience almost a certainty,
-that he would become an excellent amateur of
-the arts, practising many things with credit and
-triumphant in none, a generous patron, a kind
-of titanic dilettante. The manner in which he
-overcame this danger is one of the most
-remarkable things in the history of art. Had some
-circumstance, external or internal, forced him to
-concentrate himself on one or another of the
-forms with which he was experimenting, the
-escape would have been normal and relatively
-free of difficulty. But there was no such
-circumstance. His activities daily became more diffused
-rather than more concentrated. Carving,
-modelling, illuminating, designing, painting, poetry
-and prose-writing, all became part of his daily
-scheme. Painting, indeed, he left, save for
-incidental purposes, but the scope of his practice
-widened with every year. And instead of
-becoming, as would seem to have been inevitable,
-an accomplished amateur, he became a master in
-everything he touched. He revolutionized many
-manufacturing processes and invested craftsmanship
-with a vitality that it had not known
-for centuries; he rediscovered secrets of mediæval
-artistry that were supposed to be finally lost,
-and re-established the union between beauty and
-things of common use; he became printer, and
-the books from his press are scarcely excelled in
-the history of printing; he wrote prose romances
-which in themselves would have secured him
-an honourable place in literature, and yet all
-these achievements might be cancelled and he
-would still stand as one of the greatest poets of
-his age; or, indeed, of any age. It is all an
-astonishing testimony to the vitality of his
-artistic conscience. However uncertain might
-be the expression of his art in these early days,
-the fundamental significance of art was rooted
-in his being with an unassailable strength. In
-the light of his life-work these first more or less
-indefinite gropings appear no longer as the
-whims of a nature uncertain of itself. The
-impulse within him was not to be satisfied by any
-partial expression. If it was to create a new
-world in poetry, it must also strive to bring that
-world in some measure into the affairs of daily
-life. It was not sufficient for Morris that the
-dishes and goblets on the king's table in his
-song should be beautiful or that he should
-commemorate Jason in halls hung 'with richest
-webs.' The furnishings of his own table must
-be comely too, and the 'richest webs' should
-not be a memory alone. No more perfect
-example of critical stupidity could well be
-found than the notion that Morris, as a creative
-artist, separated himself from the affairs of the
-life about him, as if in retreat. Every line of
-poetry that he wrote was the direct expression
-of the spirit in which he ordered his daily
-practice.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Morris's feeling for mediævalism must not be
-misunderstood. He was fully conscious of the
-fact that a few centuries are as but a moment in
-the development of man, and he did not turn to
-early art as to the expression of a humanity
-differing in any fundamental way from the
-humanity of his own day. Nor did he turn to
-that aspect of mediævalism which has given it
-the name of the Dark Ages, but to the life that
-produced Giotto and Angelico, Van Eyck and
-Dürer, and Holbein and Memling, the monks
-whose illuminated books he prized so dearly,
-and Chaucer.[<a id="chap01fn1text"></a><a href="#chap01fn1">1</a>] He was not indifferent to the
-masterpieces of the modern world. The range
-of Shakespeare's humanity, Shelley's spiritual
-ardour, the passionate identification of truth
-with beauty which was as a gospel to Keats, the
-earlier poems of Tennyson and Browning, he
-accepted as revelations. Wordsworth and Milton
-he professed to dislike, but he more probably
-disliked the people who liked them wrongly.
-Nothing is more provocative than the praise of
-fools. But it was in the work of those early
-artists, the men from whom the Pre-Raphaelites
-took their name, that he found the most perfect
-and satisfying expression of the spiritual life
-which was for him the only true salvation on
-earth. It has been said by Paul Lacroix that
-in the painting of Jan Van Eyck 'the Gothic
-school decked itself with a splendour which left
-but little for the future Venetian school to
-achieve beyond; with one flight of genius, stiff
-and methodical conceptions became imbued with
-suppleness and vital action.' The same is
-substantially true of Chaucer in poetry. Some
-lessons in rudimentary technique might have
-been learned by these men from their
-predecessors, but their powers of expression were
-vibrant as some newly-discovered energy, and
-they used them in all their freshness to embody
-a sane, simple view of life such as Morris himself
-held. The subtlety which might follow in the
-evolution from these beginnings, the greater
-intricacy of achievement, would take their place
-in his consciousness, but nothing could ever
-displace his worship of these frank and exultant
-records of man's joy in his work, a joy that he
-hoped would yet be regained. They and their
-kind remained for him, throughout his life, the
-supreme examples of the meaning of art.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When he gave up his work in Street's office,
-Morris moved with Burne-Jones to rooms in
-Red Lion Square. They were unfurnished, and
-out of this circumstance really sprang the
-beginnings of 'Morris and Company,' although
-the firm was not actually founded until 1861.
-The two artists found nothing in the shops that
-was tolerable, so Morris made rough designs of
-furniture and commissioned a carpenter to execute
-them in plain deal. Chairs, a massive table,
-a settle and a wardrobe were among the first
-acquisitions. Rossetti painted two panels of the
-settle, and Burne-Jones decorated the wardrobe
-with paintings from Chaucer. When Morris
-built his own house this process was carried out
-on a larger scale, but the beginnings of the
-revolution of house-furnishing in England are clearly
-traceable to the rooms in Red Lion Square.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the Long Vacation of 1875 Rossetti conceived
-the ill-fated scheme of mural paintings
-for the new hall of the Oxford Union. The
-story need not be told here in any detail.
-Morris and Burne-Jones were pressed unto the
-service with some six or seven others, and each
-painted one picture, Morris in addition designing
-and carrying out the decoration of the ceiling.
-No proper preparations were made for the work,
-and the paintings have perished. The undertaking
-is interesting to us here as throwing sidelights
-on certain aspects of Morris's temperament.
-He had begun and finished his picture long
-before any of the others, and while they were
-still engaged on their appointed shares he had
-voluntarily set himself to the ceiling design.
-His capacity for work, of which this is the first
-striking example, was always enormous, and it is
-not surprising to hear that a distinguished doctor,
-speaking of his comparatively early death at the
-age of sixty-three, said, 'I consider the case is
-this: the disease is simply being William Morris
-and having done more work than most ten men.' It
-was on this occasion, too, that his strange
-store of assimilated knowledge was put to
-practical use. The paintings were all taken from
-the "Mort d'Arthur," and models were required
-for arms and armour. They were not to be
-found, and Morris, unaided by books of reference,
-designed them, and they were made by a jobbing
-smith under his supervision. When the Union
-work was finished he took rooms in Oxford
-instead of returning to London, and among the
-new friends that he made was Swinburne, then
-an undergraduate at Balliol. He continued his
-apprenticeship as a painter with enthusiasm but
-lessening conviction, but poetry was already
-becoming a first consideration with him. He had
-already published a few poems, as we have seen,
-in the "Oxford and Cambridge Magazine," and
-several others were written during his
-temporary residence in Oxford.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-He was a man of fine physique and a remarkable
-vehemence of temper. Burne-Jones tells us
-that when they were painting the Union walls
-and needed models they sat for each other, and
-that Morris 'had a head always fit for Lancelot
-or Tristram.' To think a thing was generally to
-say it. His intolerance of everything vulgar and
-mean and disloyal in art and life found immediate
-and forceful expression. A friend who knew
-him well tells me of an occasion when he went
-with Burne-Jones to the theatre. They were
-sitting in the pit, and one of the actresses was
-incurring Morris's particular displeasure by
-reason of her misuse of her mother-tongue. At
-a moment of tension she had to enter and
-announce that her father was dead. She did so,
-but to the effect that her 'father was dad.' Morris
-could bear it no longer, and standing up
-with his hands clenched he roared across the
-theatre, 'What the devil do you mean by dad?'
-to the utter discomfiture of his companion.
-Insincerity&mdash;and incompetence he took to be a
-form of insincerity&mdash;at all times exhausted his
-patience, and he was never careful to conceal
-his feelings.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The time of preparation was now passing into
-the time of achievement. Morris's nature had
-been spared much of the shock and stress to
-which it might have been subjected in its growth
-by the vulgarity and violent uncertainty of his
-age, by the fortunate contact with men who were
-in revolt. The movement that they represented
-and of which he was a part was large and strong
-enough to make a positive and progressive life
-of its own instead of being merely an isolated
-expression of turbulent disagreement. It was
-one of those rare manifestations, a revolt the
-first purpose of which was not to destroy but to
-create. To this influence had been added that
-of a countryside gravely beautiful, one full of the
-shadows and colour of romance, or, more
-precisely, of the northern romance to which he was
-always to lend his most faithful service. It must
-not be supposed that this implies any coldness in
-his nature, which was at all times finely
-passionate. But it was, always, also simple, and
-simplicity of passion is the ultimate distinction
-of the North. The luxuriance of the South, with
-all its beauty, tends to obscurity. Nothing is
-further from wisdom than to suppose that the
-passion of the North is cold; it is merely naked.
-His characteristic simplicity of outlook was not
-yet impressing itself with its final certainty on
-his work, but it was already in being, as is clear
-from the records of his personality as it appeared
-to his friends at the beginning of his career.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Such was the nature of the man, who, fostered
-to articulate expression in a spiritual atmosphere
-which it has been my purpose to describe, was
-about to make his first appeal as poet to the
-public. Early in 1858, Messrs. Bell and Daldy
-published <i>The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a id="chap01fn1"></a>
-[<a href="#chap01fn1text">1</a>] The chronological irregularity in this passage is deliberate, and
-I am aware, of course, that certain of the names mentioned cannot
-strictly be credited to mediævalism. But a nice distinction of
-epochs is not necessary for the present purpose. There was, in
-Morris's view of art, a kinship between Giotto and Holbein which
-was unaffected by the fact that the former died in 1336, whilst
-Holbein saw the full day of the northern renaissance two hundred
-years later.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap02"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-II
-<br /><br />
-EARLY POEMS AND PROSE
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-In insisting upon the simplicity of Morris's
-artistic ideal it is well to examine a little closely
-the precise meaning of simplicity. Spiritual
-adventure is the supremely momentous thing in
-a man's life, but it is also the most intangible.
-Art being the most perfect expression of spiritual
-adventure, its function is to impart to the
-recipient some measure of that exaltation
-experienced by its creator at the moment of
-conception. But to attain this end the art must
-have that instinctive rightness which cannot be
-achieved by taking thought but only by a rarity
-of perception which lends essential truth to the
-common phrase that the artist is born, not made.
-If you give a potter a lump of clay he may
-shape it into a vessel ugly or beautiful. If our
-artistic intelligence or our spiritual intelligence
-is awake, we shall instantly determine the result;
-if ugly it will revolt us, or at best leave us
-indifferent; if beautiful it will give us joy. But
-the difference, which is evident enough to our
-consciousness, does not enable us to define the
-distinction between the ugly and the beautiful,
-the dead and the quick. We only know that in
-the one there is an obscure and wonderful vitality
-and satisfying completeness that is lacking in the
-other. The beautiful thing may be perfectly
-simple, but it nevertheless has in it something
-strange and indefinable, something as elusive as
-life itself. The simple must not be confused with
-the easy. When Morris read his first poem to
-the acclamation of his friends, and announced
-that if this was poetry it was very easy to write,
-it must be remembered that he meant that it was
-easy for the rare creative organisation that was
-William Morris. No doubt it was just as easy
-for Shelley in the moment of creation to set down
-an image of desolation as perfect as
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Blue thistles bloomed in cities,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-as it is for the veriest poetaster to produce his
-commonplaces, and the result is certainly as
-simple, but the one is touched into life by the
-god-like thing which we call imagination, whilst
-the other is nerveless. The bow that was as iron
-to the suitors bent as a willow wand to the hand
-of Ulysses. The simplicity of Morris's art is yet
-compact of the profound and inscrutable mystery.
-It is not wholly true to say that all great or
-good art is simple. From Donne to Browning
-and Meredith there have been poets whose art is
-complex and yet memorable. It is not my
-present purpose to discuss the precise value of
-simplicity in art, but to point out that simplicity
-does not imply either superficiality or the
-worthless kind of ease.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Richard Watson Dixon said that in his opinion
-Morris never excelled his early poems in
-achievement, and his judgment in the matter has been
-echoed a good many times with far less excuse
-than Dixon himself could plead. To him they
-represented the first impassioned expression of a
-life which he had shared, and enthusiasms which
-he had helped to kindle, and by which in turn he
-had been fostered. He was the man to whom
-Morris first read his first poem, and there was
-naturally a fragrance in the memory which
-nothing could ever quite replace. But the echoes
-have no such justification, and are generally the
-result of incomplete knowledge. <i>The Defence
-of Guenevere and Other Poems</i> is quite good
-enough to make it safe to avow a preference for
-it, without reading the later work. A reputation
-for taste may be preserved here, with the least
-possible labour. But there is nothing in the
-volume which helps to make the position really
-tenable. There is, indeed, scarcely any poet who
-can point to a first volume of such high excellence,
-so completely individual, so certain in intention,
-as could Morris. But to set it above the freedom
-and poignancy of <i>The Life and Death of Jason</i>,
-the tenderness and architectural strength of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> and the fiery triumph of <i>Sigurd
-the Volsung</i> is a critical absurdity. It is a
-remarkable book, one which in itself would have assured
-Morris of his place in the history of poetry, but
-it remains no more than the exquisite prelude of
-a man whose complete achievement in poetry
-was to stand with the noblest of the modern
-world.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The chief evidence of immaturity which is
-found in Morris's first book is a certain
-vagueness of outline in some of the poems. The
-wealth of decorative colour of which he was
-never to be dispossessed is already here, and on
-the whole it is used fitly and with restraint.
-Effects such as
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- A great God's angel standing, <i>with such dyes<br />
- Not known on earth, on his great wings</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;he sat alone<br />
- <i>With raiment half blood-red, half white as snow.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Also her hands have lost that way<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of clinging that they used to have;<br />
- They look'd quite easy, <i>as they lay<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Upon the silken cushions brave<br />
- With broidery of apples green.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And again,
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- <i>The blue owls on my father's hood</i><br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Were a little dimm'd as I turn'd away,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and whole passages in such poems as <i>The Wind</i>,
-and even poems in their entirety such as <i>The
-Gilliflower of Gold</i> depend as much upon their
-colour as if actually done with a brush; and
-they depend safely, whilst the use of one art
-by another can scarcely be more triumphantly
-vindicated than by the lines in <i>A Good Knight
-in Prison</i>, where Sir Guy says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- For these vile beasts that hem me in<br />
- These Pagan beasts who live in sin<br />
- * * * * *<br />
- Why, all these things I hold them just<br />
- <i>Like dragons in a missal-book,<br />
- Wherein, whenever we may look,<br />
- We see no horror, yea delight,<br />
- We have, the colours are so bright.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-There are moments, however, in this volume
-when the poet's power of visualizing, as with
-the eyes of the painter, lead him into a weakness
-from which his later work is entirely free.
-When Guenevere says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This is true, the kiss<br />
- Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day<br />
- I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- When both our mouths went wandering in one way,<br />
- And aching sorely, met among the leaves;<br />
- Our hands being left behind strained far away.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-we feel that a certain sacrifice of emotional
-directness of speech is being made to a sense
-that intrudes on the poetry without intensifying
-it. And we have the same feeling when
-Galahad says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No maid will talk<br />
- Of sitting on my tomb until the leaves<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Grow big upon the bushes of the walk,<br />
- East of the Palace-pleasaunce, <i>make it hard<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To see the minster therefrom.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The elaboration in these places blurs rather
-than quickens our vision, as it does again in
-Rapunzel's song:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Send me a true knight,<br />
- Lord Christ, with a steel sword, bright,<br />
- Broad and trenchant; yea, <i>and seven<br />
- Spans from hilt to point, O Lord!<br />
- And let the handle of his sword<br />
- Be gold on silver.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-We may almost forgive a young poet flaws
-which are in themselves lovely and are but
-excesses of a method which he commonly uses
-to wholly admirable ends; but they are flaws
-none the less. The sense of values is not yet
-consistently true. But the indistinctness of
-outline of which I have spoken is a more serious
-weakness than this occasional indiscretion in the
-use of colour.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The poems in the volume may, somewhat
-arbitrarily, but fitly for the present purpose, be
-considered as four or five groups. The poems
-in the first, headed by <i>The Defence of
-Guenevere</i>, <i>King Arthur's Tomb</i> and <i>Sir Galahad</i>,
-have love for their central theme and aim at
-conducting a more or less simple love story to
-its successful or disastrous issue with directness
-and clarity. The obscurity that alone threatens
-their complete success is not due to subtlety on
-the one hand nor to vagueness of conception
-on the other, but merely to a power of expression
-that was not yet sure of itself. Psychological
-subtlety was not, as is sometimes supposed,
-outside Morris's range; on the contrary, he
-gives constant and varied evidence of a depth
-of perception in human affairs quite remarkable,
-as will be shown. But the subtlety was
-never confused and blurred by the sophistry
-that tempts so many poets on making a really
-pregnant psychological discovery into all kinds of
-unintelligible elaboration. When he saw clearly
-into the workings of the mind he recorded his
-vision in a few sharp and clearly defined strokes,
-and left it. Subtlety and obscurity are never
-synonymous in his work. And although, at
-twenty-four, his understanding of man's love
-for woman was naturally not very profound or
-wide in its range, it was passionate and quite
-sure of itself within its own imaginative
-experience. His failure in places to give his
-understanding clear utterance is the failure of
-a man not yet wholly used to his medium.
-When Guenevere says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- While I was dizzied thus, old thoughts would crowd,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Belonging to the time ere I was bought<br />
- By Arthur's great name and his little love;<br />
- Must I give up for ever then, I thought,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- That which I deemed would ever round me move<br />
- Glorifying all things; for a little word,<br />
- Scarce ever meant at all, must I now prove<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Stone-cold for ever?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-the thought is neither close nor difficult, nor, on
-the other hand, is it loose, but the statement
-is not lucid. It is, however, intelligible
-after we have sifted it a little carefully, but in
-such a passage as&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- A little thing just then had made me mad;<br />
- I dared not think, as I was wont to do,<br />
- Sometimes, upon my beauty; if I had<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Held out my long hand up against the blue,<br />
- And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers,<br />
- Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers,<br />
- Round by the edges; what should I have done,<br />
- If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- And startling green drawn upward by the sun?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-the thought is hidden in an utterance so tangled
-and involved as to make it almost impossible to
-straighten it out, and in any case poetry so
-enigmatic ceases to be poetry at all. Such
-extreme instances are, however, very rare even in
-this first volume, and scarcely ever to be found
-in his later work. The title-poem throughout
-is uncertain in its expression. There are passages
-of fine directness and precision as&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- And fast leapt Caitiff's sword, until my knight<br />
- Sudden threw up his sword to his left hand,<br />
- Caught it, and swung it; that was all the fight,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and the picture of Guenevere at the close,
-listening for Launcelot, 'turn'd sideways,'
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Like a man who hears<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- His brother's trumpet sounding through the wood<br />
- Of his foe's lances.'<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-but in spite of these and the unquestionable
-beauty of the poem's cumulative effect, there is
-a troubling lack of firmness in many places that
-makes the achievement incomplete. I think
-that the use of <i>terza rima</i> in itself has something
-to do with this. In a poem like Shelley's "Ode
-to the West Wind" we are prepared to follow
-the poet in any imaginative flight that he may
-attempt from moment to moment, and his
-adventurousness finds all the time some turn of
-thought that will perfectly fit the exacting
-demands of the form that he is using. But in
-Morris's poem the process of the narrative to be
-convincing can only be conducted in one way,
-and that way the poet frequently finds obstructed
-by the necessity of a verse-form particularly
-difficult in English. However this may be,
-<i>King Arthur's Tomb</i> is certainly less open to
-this charge of obscurity in utterance, and the
-thought has more imaginative force in it. There
-are passages here that suggest the presence of a
-poet to whom the highest things in poetry may
-yet be possible. Guenevere's cry&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Unless you pardon, what shall I do, Lord,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But go to hell? and there see day by day<br />
- Foul deed on deed, hear foulest word on word,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For ever and for ever, such as on the way<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- To Camelot I heard once from a churl,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That curled me up upon my jennet's neck<br />
- With bitter shame; how then, Lord, should I curl<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For ages and for ages? <i>dost thou reck</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- <i>That I am beautiful, Lord, even as you</i><br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And your dear mother? why did I forget<br />
- You were so beautiful, and good, and true,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That you loved me so, Guenevere? O yet<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- If even I go to hell, <i>I cannot choose<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But love you, Christ, yea, though I cannot keep<br />
- From loving Launcelot.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-has a poignancy and a curious understanding of
-the action of a mind in spiritual anguish that
-were to be so nobly employed in things like
-the close of <i>Jason</i>. The dramatic opposition of
-Guenevere's love, which is all the while troubled
-by the half-consciousness of sin, to Launcelot's,
-which is its own sole cause and justification, is,
-further, a first indication of the poet's power to
-set the elemental passions in action at once
-simple and convincing. When the Queen finds
-her lover lying on the dead king's tomb, she
-schools her tongue to a cold absurdity, not
-daring to trust herself,&mdash;'Well done! to pray
-for Arthur,' and Launcelot cries out:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Guenevere! Guenevere!<br />
- Do you not know me, are you gone mad? fling<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Your arms and hair about me, lest I fear<br />
- You are not Guenevere, but some other thing.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and the queen's answer falls with the tragic
-intensity of spiritual self-betrayal&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pray you forgive me, fair lord Launcelot!<br />
- I am not mad, but I am sick; they cling,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;God's curses, unto such as I am; not<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Ever again shall we twine arms and lips.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-There is in this, and in the whole of the poem
-from this point a true and incisive sense of
-conflict, continually heightened by such
-perfectly balanced turns of the imagination as when
-Launcelot says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;lo you her thin hand,<br />
- That on the carven stone can not keep still<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Because she loves me against God's command.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-culminating in the confused feelings of terror
-and appeased destiny at the end of Guenevere's
-speaking.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<i>Sir Galahad: A Christmas Mystery</i> is, it may
-be said, entirely free of the obscurity, and shows,
-if not a profounder, yet a more acute power of
-perception. The beauty and tenderness of
-love-sorrow are themes common enough in poetry,
-but Morris by making Galahad's experience of
-them spring from his thought of other men's
-love presents them with a peculiarly fresh
-poignancy. Galahad on his quest, 'dismal,
-unfriended,' thinks of the other knights.
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- And what if Palomydes also ride,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And over many a mountain and bare heath<br />
- Follow the questing beast with none beside?<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is he not able still to hold his breath<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- With thoughts of Iseult? doth he not grow pale<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With weary striving, to seem best of all<br />
- To her, 'as she is best,' he saith? to fail<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is nothing to him, he can never fall.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- For unto such a man love-sorrow is<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So dear a thing unto his constant heart,<br />
- That even if he never win one kiss,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or touch from Iseult, it will never part.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And Launcelot can think of Guenevere, 'next
-month I kiss you, or next week, And still you
-think of me,' but Galahad himself
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Some carle shall find<br />
- Dead in my arms in the half-melted snow,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and people will but say that he 'If he had lived,
-had been a right good knight' and that very
-evening will be glad when 'in their scarlet
-sleeves the gay-dress'd minstrels sing.' The
-force of the poet's thought about a particular
-phase of love is intensified in an unmistakable
-way by placing the utterance on the lips of a
-man who is not speaking of his own experience,
-which would have been beautiful but a little
-sentimental, but of his hunger for the experience,
-sorrowful though it may be, which is emotionally
-tragic. And we find another stroke of
-memorable subtlety when the voice of the vision
-says to the knight, speaking of Launcelot's love
-for Guenevere:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- He is just what you know, O Galahad,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This love is happy even as you say,<br />
- But would you for a little time be glad,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To make ME sorry long day after day?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Her warm arms round his neck half throttle me<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The hot love-tears burn deep like spots of lead.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-The thought here, with wonderful instinct on
-the part of the poet, is precisely Galahad's own.
-It shapes the compensation to his spirit for its
-hunger and loneliness. We feel, in passages
-such as these, that here is a poet exultant in the
-exercise of a rare faculty of statement. The
-spiritual discovery and the announcement are
-in perfect correspondence. <i>A Good Knight in
-Prison</i>, <i>Old Love</i>, <i>The Sailing of the Sword</i> and
-<i>Welland River</i> are the other poems that may be
-included in this first group. They attempt a
-smaller psychological range than the poems
-already considered, but they have the same
-emotional intention and achieve it with clarity
-and precision. These poems already show the
-pervasive passion for the earth that has been
-discussed; the landscape is everywhere informed
-by intimacy and tenderness. Another aspect
-of the poet's temper too finds expression&mdash;an
-extraordinarily vivid sense of natural change and
-death. With speculation as to the unknown
-Morris was never concerned in his poetry.
-Death was to him neither a fearful thing nor yet
-a deliverance or a promise. It was simply the
-severing of a beautiful thing that he loved&mdash;life;
-the end of a journey that no labours could make
-wearisome. He did not question it, nor did he
-seek to evade its reality, but the thought of it
-was always coloured with a profound if perfectly
-brave melancholy. Without ever disputing with
-his reason the possibility of death's beneficence,
-it was not the beneficence of death that he
-perceived emotionally, but the pity of it. It was
-a fading away, and as such it filled him with a
-regretful tenderness, just as did the fading of
-the full year. The close of <i>The Ode to the West
-Wind</i> crystallizes a mental attitude of which
-Morris was temperamentally incapable. But
-it is, of course, a mistake to suppose that the
-beauty of his poetry suffers in consequence. It
-is not the nature of the mood that matters, but
-its personal intensity.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The poems of the second group, of which
-<i>The Chapel in Lyoness</i> is the most notable
-example, have a central point in common with
-those of the first, but there is a mysticism in
-them which is quite unrelated to the obscurity
-which has been examined. It is not a mysticism
-that has any definite scheme or purpose underlying
-it; indeed I am not sure that mysteriousness
-would not be a fitter word to use. It is
-just the mysteriousness of artistic youth, proud
-of the faculty of which it finds itself possessed
-and a little prodigal in its use. There is still
-the effort to keep the lines of the story clear,
-but they are deliberately the lines of a soft brush
-rather than a steel point. To read <i>The Chapel
-in Lyoness</i>, <i>Concerning Geffray Teste Noire</i>
-and <i>The Judgment of God</i> is to receive an
-impression which is clear enough as long as we
-refrain from seeking to define it too precisely.
-The central thought and incidents of these
-poems are set out perfectly plainly, but there is
-superimposed a mysticism to which, happily,
-there is no key. We may never be quite sure
-of its meaning, but we know at least that it
-does not mean something which would be clear
-if once we divined some elusive secret of its
-nature. It is like the soft scent of an orchard,
-and we accept it as gratefully and with as little
-question.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In poems such as <i>Rapunzel</i> and <i>The Wind</i>,
-however, the quality that in those other poems
-was but an incident is adopted as a definite
-manner. What was before merely atmosphere
-is here employed as the substance. These two
-poems scarcely make any direct statement at
-all, and yet they succeed in an extraordinary
-way in conveying a precise intellectual
-impression. Through a wealth of imagery and verbal
-colour run thin threads of suggestion that,
-fragile as they are, yet stand out as clearly as the
-veins in dark marble and have the same values.
-It is remarkable that the coloured clouds in
-which these poems are, as it were, wrapped, are
-never stifling. The flowers of Morris's poetry
-are never of the hot-house. At the moments
-when he is most freely putting language to
-decorative use, he preserves a freshness as of
-windy moorlands or the green stalks of lilies.
-At times the threads of suggestion disappear
-altogether, and in the third group we find poems
-which are frankly essays in colour without any
-attempt at concrete significance. <i>The Tune of
-Seven Towers</i>, <i>Two Red Roses Across the Moon</i>,
-<i>The Blue Closet</i>, are examples. It is wrong to
-say that these poems have no meaning. They
-mean exactly the colours that they themselves
-create. It would be as wise to say that a
-sunset or a blue distance of mountains is
-meaningless. Somewhere between poems like <i>The Wind</i>
-and <i>The Tune of Seven Towers</i> may be placed
-<i>The Gilliflower of Gold</i>, <i>Spell Bound</i>, <i>Golden
-Wings</i>, and two or three others.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The volume, if it were to be measured by the
-poems already mentioned, would have the first
-great quality of being unforgettable. A note is
-struck which is not necessarily beyond the
-compass but certainly outside the temperament of
-anyone but Morris. There is at present no
-trace of the discipleship to Chaucer, but a
-suggestion here and there of kinship with the
-Coleridge of "Kubla Khan" and the Keats of "La
-Belle Dame Sans Merci." The method of the
-later poems is already clearly suggested, but the
-feeling and expression are marked by the natural
-limitations and splendid excesses of youth.
-Morris places his figures on a background which
-is not unrelated to life but unrelated to the
-inessential circumstances of life. Through a
-changing year of daffodil tufts and roses,
-cornfields and autumn woods and the frozen twigs
-of winter, passes a pageant of knights in armour
-of silver and blue steel, with bright devices on
-their tabards and shields strewn with stars or
-flashing back gold to the sunlight, and queens
-and ladies passionate and beautiful. But they
-move on an earth that is the real earth of
-Morris's own experience; he has a definite
-meaning when he says
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Why were you more fair<br />
- Than aspens in the autumn at their best?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and the enchantment of his forests is that of the
-hornbeam twilight of his Essex homeland. And
-they themselves are people of flesh and blood,
-stirred by the common emotions of humanity.
-The passion, the glamour, and the poignancy
-of love and life all find mature expression in
-these pages, but we have to wait until <i>Jason</i>
-and <i>The Earthly Paradise</i> for the presence of
-the innate nobility of love and life behind these
-things. There is at present none of the fine
-austerity that is a quality essential to the highest
-poetry, but that is but to say that Morris in his
-youth was writing as a young man should and
-must write. The growth of the prophet in the
-poet is not to be looked for in the first fervour
-of song. The most that we can ask justly at
-this season is witness to the presence of the poet,
-and this we have here in abundance.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The most memorable achievement of the
-volume is, however, <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i>,
-which stands by itself, or, perhaps, with one
-other poem, <i>The Haystack in the Floods</i>. The
-historian of English drama during the second
-half of the nineteenth century might, if he were
-unwary, omit William Morris from his reckonings.
-If he were astute enough to remember
-him it would probably be as the author of <i>Love
-is Enough</i>. And yet at a time when some
-curious spell seems to have fallen on the poets
-whenever they turned their thoughts to the
-stage, <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i> reminds us
-of one, at least, to whom the union of drama
-and poetry was not impossible. Morris
-himself would seem to have been unconscious of
-the fact, for not only was he careless in this
-instance when a little care would have made
-his success strikingly complete, but henceforth
-he neglected this side of his faculty, exercising
-it on but one other occasion, and then in a more
-or less experimental mood, of which something
-will be said later. It will be well to examine
-this short play in detail, for its importance is apt
-to be under-estimated. In writing it Morris
-realized, as did no poet of his time and scarcely
-any poet since the close of the great epoch of
-poetic drama in England, the exact value of
-action in drama. The complete subordination
-of character and idea to action is a brief epitome
-of that degeneration of the modern theatre from
-which we are now witnessing the dawn of a
-deliverance. The supreme, though not necessarily
-the only, function of the drama is to show
-the development of character and the progress
-of idea through the medium of action, and until
-to-day the stage has been surrendered for a
-century, if not for a longer period, to work that is
-wholly unconcerned with this condition. The
-event has been everything. The poets from
-Shelley to Swinburne have realized this error
-and revolted, but in their eagerness to correct an
-abuse that was threatening the highest
-manifestation of their art, they have with amazing
-regularity overlooked another condition which,
-if not of equal importance, cannot be disregarded
-without lamentable results. Determined to
-dispossess action of its usurped authority, they have
-neglected its lawful and indispensable service.
-Their opponents in asserting action at the cost
-of all other things, and having, in consequence,
-nothing to say beyond the bare statement of
-events, have failed to produce either good
-literature or good drama, whilst they themselves, in
-turning to ideas alone, have had much to say and
-have so produced good and often noble literature,
-but in neglecting to preserve the right balance
-between ideas and action they too have failed to
-produce good drama. They have, unfortunately,
-no just answer to the charge that they constantly
-allow the play of character and idea to be
-unrelated to the action which they have chosen as
-their framework. Their failure in dramatic
-result, though free of the deplorable poverty and
-baseness of the method against which they were
-a reaction, is no less complete. Shelley, Byron,
-Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, all wrote fine
-dramatic poetry, but they cannot show between
-them a poetic play that achieves with any
-precision the fundamental purpose of drama.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Morris's instinct in this matter was perfectly
-poised. The mechanical part of the technique
-in <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i> is as crude as it
-well could be, chiefly, as I have suggested, on
-account of the poet's indifference. Short scenes
-follow each other in rapid succession, and in the
-middle of the play there is a hiatus which is
-intelligible enough but destroys the dramatic
-continuity. These defects make it difficult,
-though not impossible, for stage presentation,
-but otherwise it would, I believe, survive the
-ordeal triumphantly. The opening of the play
-is admirably contrived. In a few deft strokes
-the character of Peter Harpdon is outlined, and
-we know that he has humour and understanding
-of men, and a tenderness coloured by a certain
-roughness of temper. All this is shown strictly
-by his relation to the action in which he is
-involved&mdash;there is not a line but helps the
-development of this. Then in perfectly natural
-sequence the action enables him in a speech of
-little more than twenty lines to define the
-circumstances from which it has sprung, and
-thus we have set before us at the outset the
-nature of the protagonist and the situation in
-relation to which we are to look for that nature's
-manifestation; and already it is clear, in the
-character of John Curzon, that the people
-among whom Harpdon is to move will be no
-less sharply stated and proved than himself.
-The construction of this opening could not well
-be more skilful or instinctively right. Then
-follows what at first seems to be a momentary
-lapse into the dramatic error of which I have
-spoken. In a long soliloquy Peter reveals
-directly his spiritual and mental attitude
-towards this action in which he is involved and
-indirectly the commentary of the poet himself
-upon that attitude. This in itself is perfectly
-legitimate, and supported, of course, by all the
-poets of whom Shakespeare is the spring, indeed
-by all the great dramatic poets of literature.
-The Greek chorus realizes this end as one of its
-essential functions no less clearly than do the
-soliloquies of Hamlet; and until the poets see
-once again the significance of this fact and
-adapt it to modern needs, refusing to have their
-authority usurped by theatrical showmen and
-their stage carpenters, they will continue to fail
-in bringing back their art to the theatre. But
-it must always be remembered that this choric
-element of the drama justifies itself only as
-long as it limits itself to the presentation of
-idea growing directly out of the action. When
-it allows digression and elaboration for their
-own sake, or the sake of some altogether
-extraneous idea, in short for any reason other than
-intensifying the fundamental idea which the
-progress of the action creates, it becomes
-undramatic and ceases to fulfil its only right
-purpose. It is at this point that the poets since
-the close of the Elizabethan age have
-misunderstood the necessities of drama, and in Peter
-Harpdon's soliloquy we suspect Morris for a
-moment of the same error. But careful
-examination of the speech itself proves the
-suspicion to be almost if not wholly unfounded.
-We find that there is nothing that is not the
-immediate result of his position, and the worst
-that can be said of it is that there are turns of
-thought which, although not dramatically irrelevant,
-are a little superfluous and do not heighten
-our perception. It is curious that in this speech
-there is evidence of external contemporary
-influence in manner such as is scarcely to be
-found elsewhere in the book. There is at least
-a suggestion of Browning in such lines as&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Now this is hard: a month ago,<br />
- And a few minutes' talk had set things right<br />
- 'Twixt me and Alice;&mdash;if she had a doubt.<br />
- As (may Heaven bless her!) I scarce think she had,<br />
- 'Twas but their hammer, hammer in her ears,<br />
- Of 'how Sir Peter fail'd at Lusac bridge:'<br />
- And 'how Sir Lambert' (think now!) 'his dear friend,<br />
- His sweet, dear cousin, could not but confess<br />
- That Peter's talk tended towards the French,<br />
- Which he' (for instance Lambert) 'was glad of,<br />
- Being' (Lambert, you see) 'on the French side.'<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The first scene closes with a swift turn of
-action carried on correspondingly swift dramatic
-speech. Peter Harpdon is defending an
-English castle in Poictou. His antagonist is
-his cousin Lambert, who has misrepresented a
-circumstance of war to impugn Peter's loyalty
-to his cause, careful for his own purposes that
-the rumour shall reach the ears of Peter's lady,
-Alice. Peter has had no means of defending
-himself, and his soliloquy is the outcome of the
-suffering that he experiences at the thought of
-his wife's possible mistrust of him. As he
-finishes, his servant, Clisson, comes in again,
-saying that a herald has come from Lambert&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What says the herald of our cousin, sir?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- CURZON. So please you, sir, concerning your estate,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He has good will to talk with you.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- SIR PETER. Outside,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I'll talk with him, close by the gate St. Ives.<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is he unarm'd?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- CURZON. Yea, sir, in a long gown.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- SIR PETER. Then bid them bring me hither my furr'd gown,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With the long sleeves, and under it I'll wear,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By Lambert's leave, a secret coat of mail.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-He will also take an axe, one&mdash;as we should
-expect of Morris&mdash;'with Paul wrought on the
-blade'&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- CURZON. How, sir! Will you attack him unawares,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And slay him unarm'd?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- SIR PETER. Trust me, John, I know<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The reason why he comes here with sleeved gown<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fit to hide axes up. So, let us go.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-Peter Harpdon is a Gascon knight, and in the
-next scene Lambert urges that this fact
-combined with expedience, for the French are in the
-ascendancy, should induce him to leave the
-English. Peter answers him at length but
-finishes in an aside&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Talk, and talk, and talk&mdash;<br />
- I know this man has come to murder me,<br />
- And yet I talk still.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Lambert accuses him then directly&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;If I said<br />
- 'You are a traitor, being, as you are<br />
- Born Frenchman.'<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-They flash out at each other and Lambert
-'takes hold of something in his sleeve,' strikes
-at Peter with a dagger, and is taken. He is
-brought before Harpdon in the castle and
-sentenced&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Let the hangman shave his head quite clean,<br />
- And cut his ears off close up to the head,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Again we have the clear-cut delineation of
-character thrown up on a framework of simple
-and logical action which all the while is
-interesting as a means but not as an end. The
-blend of nobility and savagery in Peter's nature
-stands sharply contrasted with the meanness
-and merely dull cruelty of Lambert's. At this
-point the hiatus occurs. The next scene is in
-the French camp, and Sir Peter Harpdon is a
-prisoner before Guesclin and his officers, Lambert
-being one of them. The dramatic opposition of
-the situation to that which has immediately
-preceded it is admirable, but we need some
-explanation that is not made. Apart from this defect,
-however, Morris continues to build up his
-play with flawless instinct. Defeat had turned
-Lambert's cruelty into pitiful and cringing
-terror, whilst Peter at the moment of his power
-over his rival, although he had not spared him,
-had shown some mercy, as to one whom he
-despised. Now, with the shifting circumstance,
-the two prove themselves with unerring
-completeness. Defeat purges Peter Harpdon's
-nature of all its grosser parts, and he responds
-perfectly to the demands of tragic chance; whilst
-Lambert in his triumph reveals himself in all
-the degradation of a mean and wholly unheroic
-villainy. In both cases the development is
-logical, indeed inevitable, and yet it depends
-strictly upon the course of the action for its being.
-Already we know the natures of the men, and,
-given the event, can foresee their attitude with
-some certainty, but it needs the event itself to
-complete our understanding. Peter is not a
-coward nor lacking in nobility, yet when he
-hears that Lambert has come to him 'in a long
-gown' he knows what that means, and he makes
-no foolish boast of fearlessness, but frankly
-prepares himself with mail and axe. Now, before
-his judges, the same temper is evident. Quite
-simply, and with no blind defiance or pretence
-at indifference, he pleads for his life, not, as the
-squire says of him afterwards&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Sullenly brave as many a thief will die,<br />
- Nor yet as one that plays at japes with God.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-He states his case clearly, with dignity, yet
-earnestly. Clisson intercedes for him in a
-passage that outlines with precision yet
-another character, and Guesclin is sorry but
-obdurate; he must die. Then Lambert taunts
-him. He exults in the downfall of his enemy
-with a cruelty that is bestial yet calculated in
-every stroke, until his victim blenches. Then&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I think you'll faint,<br />
- Your lips are grey so; yes, you will, unless<br />
- You let it out and weep like a hurt child;<br />
- Hurrah! you do now. Do not go just yet,<br />
- For I am Alice, am right like her now;<br />
- Will you not kiss me on the lips, my love?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and Clisson breaks in&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- You filthy beast, stand back and let him go,<br />
- Or by God's eyes I'll choke you.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-This second speech of Clisson's is his last, and
-yet the tenderness and strength of the man are
-shown so definitely as to make him complete
-and living. He continues, asking Peter to
-forgive him for his share in his death&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I would,<br />
- If it were possible, give up my life<br />
- Upon this grass for yours; fair knight, although,<br />
- He knowing all things knows this thing too, well,<br />
- Yet when you see His face some short time hence,<br />
- Tell Him I tried to serve you.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and Peter makes his last utterance, full of
-passionate realization of the moment, yet
-chiming to his character consistently to the end&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh! my lord,<br />
- I cannot say this is as good as life,<br />
- But yet it makes me feel far happier now,<br />
- And if at all, after a thousand years,<br />
- I see God's face, I will speak loud and bold,<br />
- And tell Him you were kind, and like Himself;<br />
- Sir, may God bless you!<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-He would not have them think that when he
-wept he did so because of Lambert's taunts.
-He was
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Deep in thought<br />
- Of all things that have happened since I was<br />
- A little child; and so at last I thought<br />
- Of my true lady: truly, sir, it seem'd<br />
- No longer gone than yesterday, that this<br />
- Was the sole reason God let me be born<br />
- Twenty-five years ago, that I might love<br />
- Her, my sweet lady, and be loved by her;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and so up to the close, which has all the awe
-and terror but also the pity and exaltation of
-authentic tragedy&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I only wept because<br />
- There was no beautiful lady to kiss me<br />
- Before I died....<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;... O for some lady, though<br />
- I saw her ne'er before; Alice, my love,<br />
- I do not ask for; Clisson was right kind,<br />
- If he had been a woman, I should die<br />
- Without this sickness.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The last scene, as just in dramatic instinct as
-the rest of the play, tells of the bearing of the
-news of Peter's death to the Lady Alice.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I have examined this play in some detail, and
-with a good many quotations, for two reasons.
-One, already stated, to show that Morris had an
-understanding of the nature of drama which is
-generally overlooked, and secondly, because it
-is a common thing to hear people to whom
-poetry is a matter of real importance say that
-they find Morris&mdash;for all his beauty&mdash;languid and
-lacking in power of concentration. If <i>Sir Peter
-Harpdon's End</i> be languid or anything but
-tense with concentrated emotion from beginning
-to end, then I confess my sense of values to be
-much awry. And, although he left the dramatic
-form, he did not lose this quality in his later
-work. He employed, for reasons which will
-be discussed later, a certain easy and decorative
-elaboration in much of his writing, but at the
-right moment in <i>Jason</i>, in the tales of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> and in <i>Sigurd the Volsung</i>,
-he was master of the direct vitality and
-vibrating force that he first used in <i>Sir Peter
-Harpdon's End</i> and elsewhere when he needed
-them in this earliest volume, as in <i>The Haystack
-in the Floods</i>, with unquestionable control and
-vividness.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The few poems that have not been mentioned
-are the lyrical expressions of moods, snatches of
-song and swift little pictures in many colours
-that give their own peculiar pleasure as do all
-the fragmentary strokes of a great artist. They
-are exquisitely done, but they must be read,
-not described.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Several of the poems published in <i>The
-Defence of Guenevere</i> volume had already
-appeared, as has been said, in "The Oxford and
-Cambridge Magazine." In the same magazine
-Morris had also printed his first essays in prose
-romance. A comparison of these with the
-poems shows very clearly the value of that
-exaltation apart from the discovery, which finds,
-as I have suggested, its expression in the music
-or rhythmical pattern of verse. In more than
-one of these prose stories Morris uses a subject
-that differs in no fundamental quality from those
-used in many of the poems. The treatment
-shows the same tenderness, the same love of the
-earth, the same power of direct and vivid
-presentation of passion when it is needed,
-as in passages of <i>Gertha's Lovers</i>, and the same
-delight in colour and all beautiful things. And
-Morris uses his medium skilfully, and with a
-curiously personal touch; his prose has the same
-freshness and light as his verse. In short, we
-have here two groups of work from the same
-man, alike in temper, substance and treatment,
-and in control, the only difference being that of
-form. And that difference is everything, for
-in the form lies the visible evidence of the
-spiritual pressure at the moment of conception.
-There is no more stupid error than to censure
-one work of art because it lacks the qualities
-of another with which it has no point of contact.
-No sane person thinks less of, say, "Wuthering
-Heights," because it has not the poetic
-perfection of "Adonais." But the case of Morris's
-early prose romances is different. They are
-delightful to read, they are in themselves the
-treasurable expression of a fine spirit, yet they
-have in them nothing that is not to be found in
-the poems. That being so, it is inevitable that
-a close acquaintance with the poems should
-make us a little careless of these prose tales, for
-in the poems we have all the excellences that
-we find in the others, and we have added the
-rhythmic exaltation which is the light on the
-wings of poetry. Morris's fund of inventiveness
-was inexhaustible, but in his early prose it
-discovered no quality that peculiarly fitted itself to
-the medium; the inventiveness in the prose
-tales and the poems is the same, and there is,
-in consequence, no compensation in the one for
-the absence of the higher faculty of utterance
-that is found in the other. Morris realized this
-himself, and for the next thirty years created in
-verse. Nothing is further from my mind than
-to suggest that <i>The Story of the Unknown
-Church</i> and <i>Lindenborg Pool</i>, <i>Gertha's Lovers</i>
-and <i>The Hollow Land</i> and <i>Svend and his
-Brethren</i>, are other than beautiful expressions
-of a rare creative intelligence, but no clearer
-evidence of the essential difference between that
-which is poetry and that which is not could well
-be found than by setting side by side things
-so closely related in many ways, indeed in
-every way save one, as these stories and <i>The
-Defence of Guenevere</i> and <i>King Arthur's Tomb</i>,
-<i>Rapunzel</i> and <i>The Wind</i>, <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's
-End</i> and <i>Shameful Death</i>. Nor could anything
-be advanced more unanswerably supporting the
-contention that verse is the one unassailable
-medium for poetry.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Nine years were to pass before Morris
-published his next book, <i>The Life and Death of
-Jason</i>. The course of his life and the nature
-of his development in the meantime are
-discussed briefly in the following chapter.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap03"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-III
-<br /><br />
-INTERLUDE
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-In 1859 Morris married Miss Jane Burden, of
-Oxford. To a man of his profound tenderness
-for all the simple and rational things of life,
-home was a symbol of the deepest significance.
-Homestead and homeland are words used
-constantly and lovingly in his writing. A man's
-home was, as he understood it, not merely a
-refuge from the serious business of life or a
-comfortable and convenient means of satisfying
-social requirements, but the temple of his daily
-worship. It should be at once a centre of his
-labours and an expression of himself. The
-application of the artist's understanding to daily
-conduct is not always possible, or of first
-importance, for it is the artist's function to
-persuade, not to compel; but such application
-is the logical outcome of true development
-that is not hindered by circumstance. We do
-not impugn Browning's sincerity either as a
-man or an artist because he mercilessly exposed
-the evils of Society and yet was a great
-diner-out. We feel, indeed, that he was of sounder
-judgment and a finer charity than Shelley, who
-not only exposed the evils, but also left society
-gasping whilst he went naked to his dinner or
-made his house the asylum for anybody
-incapable of managing his own affairs. But it
-is, on the other hand, an everlasting vindication
-of Byron's strange personality that the man who
-wrote 'The Isles of Greece' gave his life in
-the service of the cause that he sang. Morris's
-unchanging gospel was that man should have
-joy in his work, which meant that the results
-of his work would in themselves be beautiful.
-To accept anything that was unlovely on any
-terms short of compulsion would, in consequence,
-have been to proclaim the truth without
-insisting upon it by example. Had he done
-so his art might have lost none of its vitality,
-but by steadily refusing to do so he made the
-common charge of aloofness even less
-intelligible than it would otherwise have been.
-Being a customer in the world's market he
-was determined not to degrade the men by
-whom the market was supplied. If he could
-find no other solution, he would supply it
-himself.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-He bought a piece of land at Upton in Kent,
-careful that it should include an orchard. Here,
-with Philip Webb as architect, he built the Red
-House, which was to be his home for five years&mdash;until
-circumstances made it necessary for him
-to live again in London. Immediately, the
-difficulty that had confronted him in his Red
-Lion Square rooms grew into one that was
-not to be met by the friendly co-operation of
-a jobbing carpenter. There was a large house
-to be furnished and fitted, and beautiful things
-had to be found for the purpose. He came
-away from the market empty-handed, but carrying
-in his mind the idea of Morris and Company.
-He would not only supply his own needs decently;
-he would remove a reproach.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The original prospectus of the firm announced
-the names of Rossetti, Madox Brown, Burne-Jones,
-Morris himself, and three others as partners.
-The history of the enterprise has been
-told by Mr. Mackail and others, and need not
-be discussed here in any detail. Its influence
-upon the lesser arts in England has been
-enormous, and its activities are, fortunately,
-still growing. When Morris died he had for
-some years been sole director of the venture,
-and its work embraced carpets, chintzes,
-wallpapers, stained glass, tapestries, tiles, furniture,
-wall-decoration&mdash;in short, everything by which
-a building might gain or lose in beauty. The
-first premises were in Red Lion Square, near
-to the poet's old rooms, and the earliest
-achievement of the firm was to help in making the
-Red House at Upton, in the words of Burne-Jones,
-"the beautifullest place on earth." Webb
-having designed the house&mdash;with Morris at his
-elbow&mdash;the firm furnished it and the painters
-of the group proceeded to decorate the inside
-surfaces. The house was made to fit the
-orchard, so that, as Mr. Mackail tells us in a
-beautiful sentence, "the apples fell in at the
-windows as they stood open on hot autumn
-nights." Gardening was one of the things of
-which Morris seems to have been born with
-knowledge, and he knew the uses of hollyhocks
-and sunflowers. Here, then, was a home,
-fashioned, as far as might be, into an earthly
-paradise. The story of these five years is a
-very charming one; open house was kept, and
-a good cellar and a bowling-green and tobacco
-jars were not wanting. Here the poet's two
-daughters were born, and we get a delightful
-picture of the house at a christening, with
-Rossetti refusing to wait until dessert for the
-raisins, and beds strewn about the drawing-room,
-Swinburne contenting himself with a
-sofa. These things, however, are to the
-biographer, and are set down with fitting grace
-in the book to which I have referred more than
-once.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Morris went up to London daily to conduct
-the business at Red Lion Square. The value
-of the work that he had undertaken is even
-yet imperfectly realized. Most people whose
-artistic intelligence is awake contrive to have
-in their houses many beautiful things, but it
-is only when we have been into a house where
-everything is beautiful that we can understand
-the precise aim that caused Morris to become a
-manufacturer. There is an enchantment about
-such a dwelling-place that cannot be described,
-an atmosphere of health and completeness that
-must be experienced to be understood. A
-beautiful house was no more a luxury to Morris
-than sound meat on his table. But we have
-laws for our butchers, whilst we have none for
-our upholsterers. Some one once referred to
-Morris as the "upholsterer-poet," which pleased
-him greatly. That such a term should be meant
-as a reproach he could not understand. He
-asked for nothing better than to convince people
-that an upholsterer had a soul, and to make
-them determined not to deal with him until
-he showed it in his chairs and sofas.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The five years at Upton were a time of many
-energies and a steady establishment of the poet's
-attitude towards life. The London business was
-a serious and permanent undertaking, and
-demanded, by the nature of its being, Morris's
-constant personal attention. This, together with
-the daily journeys and the claims and responsibilities&mdash;of
-no ordinary kind, as we have seen&mdash;of
-his new home, left little time on his hands,
-and his work as poet was of necessity put aside
-for the moment. But this fresh undertaking
-was of peculiar value to his development, and
-came at precisely the right moment. In his first
-volume of poems there had been the shadow of
-that new world that had already shaped itself in
-his consciousness. It had been beautiful, full of
-significance and promise, but still a shadow. It
-is not fanciful to suppose that had his mind not
-found some practical means of proving itself, of,
-so to speak, checking its progress step by step,
-his poetry would have retained this intangible
-quality to the end. This is not to suggest that
-the poetry of the <i>Guenevere</i> volume is in any
-sense unreal, but to remember its atmosphere of
-uncertainty, or to say, precisely, that it is but the
-shadow of the world that was in the poet's mind.
-In the workshop of Morris and Company, it
-seems to me, this proving ground was happily
-discovered. No better illustration, by contrast,
-of my meaning could be found than in that
-remarkable book, Mr. Gordon Craig's "Art of the
-Theatre." We have here, in some ways, the
-profoundest piece of writing on the theatre that
-has appeared in England. Many elementary
-truths that have been forgotten for centuries, if
-indeed they have even been realized since the
-days which are commonly supposed to belong to
-an era before dramatic history had begun, are
-here made to stand out with startling clearness.
-But the radical defect of the book is a vagueness,
-an uncertainty of statement, an indiscipline of
-theory. We are constantly regretting the fact
-that Mr. Craig, as these beautiful and strangely
-suggestive thoughts went through his mind, had
-no stage and equipment ready to his hand to
-test them and bring them to perfect articulation&mdash;that
-he had no proving ground. Morris was
-more fortunate. He carried in his imagination
-a world of which I attempt to set down the
-conditions elsewhere. At first he could grasp only
-its beauty and wonderful hope; its perfect
-realization eluded him. It was remote not from
-reality but from his understanding. But now,
-working in Red Lion Square, delighting in the
-labour of his hands and inspiring the same delight
-in others: building a home that should bring
-daily joy to himself and his friends: investing
-the offices of husband and father and host with
-their normal and simple dignity and stripping
-them of every vestige of insincerity, he brought
-his dream to the crucible of experience. The
-result is that when next he attempts to shape
-his world into poetry there is nothing left of
-the indefinite. All the beauty and colour are
-retained, all the tenderness and poignancy, but
-the poet has come up to his vision and the
-outlines are no longer in doubt. The shadows of
-<i>Guinevere</i> have become the vibrant men and
-women of <i>Jason</i>. The paradise has been brought
-to earth.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The only poetry that Morris wrote during
-these five years was part of a cycle of poems
-on the Troy war. The plan included twelve
-poems, six of which were written, two begun, and
-four untouched. Those that were written were
-never published, but Mr. Mackail describes them
-for us in some detail, and it is clear that Morris
-followed a just instinct in laying them aside.
-They are dramatic in form, and if finished they
-would doubtless have made interesting reading
-after <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i>. But the eager
-unrest of the early volume is here moving towards
-turbulence. It is as much a mistake to suppose
-that turbulence is a quality peculiar to weakness
-as that it is necessarily a token of strength.
-Webster as a poet was turbulent and strong:
-Bulwer Lytton turbulent and weak. On the
-other hand, the noblest strength may be quiet,
-but so may the most insipid weakness. The
-opening of "Paradise Lost" is at once one of
-the quietest and one of the most powerful
-passages in poetry; but the quiet ease of the
-good Mr. Akenside is mere tediousness. The
-point is that this new temper that showed itself
-in the Troy poems was not in itself one incapable
-of fine issues, but that it was at variance with
-the essential inclination of the poet's development,
-and that Morris himself felt this to be so.
-A curious myth has grown up about Morris's
-methods of work, to the effect that he threw
-this or that undertaking aside as it were by
-whim, forgetting all about it unless another
-whim sent him to it again. Were it not for
-this myth it would be unnecessary to say that
-great artists never work in this fashion. If we
-can but discover it, there is a perfectly hard
-and logical reason in all they do. When he
-was writing the Troy poems Morris had thirty
-years of vigour in front of him. He broke off
-the work in the middle, and never returned to
-it. We cannot suppose that he did this other
-than deliberately and with carefully considered
-reason. That reason was, it is clear, the
-conviction that he was labouring in a direction
-along which his genius did not lead him.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In 1865 Morris moved with his family to
-Bloomsbury. To leave Red House was a great
-trouble to his mind, but the daily journeys
-became increasingly irksome, and some fluctuation
-in his private money matters made it more
-than ever imperative that nothing should be left
-undone to make the business prosper. An able
-business manager was found, and Morris was
-able to devote more of his time to actual
-designing and craftsmanship. The hours saved each
-day in travelling meant fresh opportunities for
-his highest creative work, and the scheme of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> began to take definite shape.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap04"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-IV
-<br /><br />
-NARRATIVE POEMS
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-<i>The Life and Death of Jason</i> was originally
-planned as one of the stories for <i>The Earthly
-Paradise</i>, which appeared in 1868-70. It
-developed to a length too great, however, for this
-purpose, and was published separately in 1867.
-It won for Morris an immediate popularity, and
-it marks his realization of a matured and fully
-rounded manner in poetry. The <i>Guenevere</i>
-volume had announced with certainty the
-presence of a new poet, but it had said nothing at
-all conclusively as to the nature of his future
-development, nothing to prepare us for a
-narrative poet who should reach out to Chaucer in
-achievement and surpass all save his master in
-a form strangely neglected in English verse.
-The answer to the criticism that holds narrative
-poetry to be the humblest order of the art is to
-be made in two words&mdash;Chaucer, Morris. It is
-true that our narrative poetry when set beside
-our dramatic and lyric wealth is, relatively, but
-a little store of great worth. But in the hands
-of these two men the form attains a distinction
-that proves for ever that when employed with
-mastery it is capable of the noblest ends.
-Narrative poetry is, in fundamental intention,
-closely related to poetic drama, and its failure
-in most hands springs from the misunderstanding
-that has already been analysed in connection
-with <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i>. It may be
-perfectly true to say that by his actions shall
-a man be known, but there is in the statement
-the implied qualification that such actions shall
-be normal and habitual; whilst the actions
-which narrative poetry usually relates are
-extraordinary and irregular, exciting the interest
-momentarily only, and revealing nothing of the
-characters of the actors. Marlowe wrote a
-great narrative poem, and Marlowe was a great
-dramatist. One of the great <i>lacunæ</i> of
-literature is the play that Chaucer never wrote.
-Keats in at least two notable successes, small
-in compass but complete, Byron in work
-avowedly narrative in intention but largely
-lyrical in effect, and Scott in admirable stories
-that lacked something of the finer atmosphere
-of poetry, all made contributions of value to
-narrative poetry; Spenser moves with Milton
-across the boundary line into the region of
-epic. But until the publication of <i>Jason</i> there
-had been no poet since Chaucer who had
-produced a considerable volume of work at once
-frankly narrative in form and of indisputable
-greatness in design and achievement. The
-instinct that had guided Morris safely, or nearly
-so, through his dramatic experiment in his first
-volume did not forsake him when he turned to
-the creation of a great narrative poem, and it
-was precisely the instinct that was essential to
-success. For narrative is drama without the
-stage.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The first requirement that we make of the
-poet in narrative, after the paramount demand
-that he shall recognize this essential canon of
-all art as to the subservience of incident to idea,
-is that he shall be perfectly lucid. Whilst in
-lyric verse we are content to be forced at times
-to pause for thought and comprehension, in
-narrative verse we insist that we shall instantly
-perceive. With this condition Morris complies
-triumphantly. In <i>Jason</i>, as in the tales of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i>, there is no necessity to pause
-at a single line. We read with absolute ease
-from beginning to end, and our interest is almost
-as absolute. Very occasionally the poet errs by
-introducing incidents merely for their own sake
-without intensifying our conception of character,
-but, with one or two possible exceptions, the
-tales move swiftly and develop on every page.
-That Morris should ever fail in this swiftness of
-narration is, indeed, difficult to believe when we
-call to mind the innumerable instances where he
-conducts his story at an almost breathless speed.
-This is not to say that he is ever indistinct, either
-through bad craftsmanship or undue compression,
-but to emphasize his extreme reluctance to allow
-unnecessary events to distract our attention.
-An excellent instance is afforded in <i>The Ring
-Given to Venus</i>. Lawrence is told by Palumbus
-that he must leave him, fast and pray for
-six days, and return to him on the seventh,
-when he shall learn how to accomplish his end&mdash;the
-recovery of his bridal ring. The danger at
-such a juncture is obvious. We dread that the
-poet shall tell us at length of the passing of
-those six days, of Lawrence's impatience and
-distress, and so forth. That is to say, we should
-dread it of most poets, but, knowing Morris's
-methods, we feel that he will work more wisely,
-and we are not deceived. Palumbus' directions
-being given, Lawrence and his guide depart&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So homeward doubtful went the twain,<br />
- And Lawrence spent in fear and pain<br />
- The six long days, and so at last,<br />
- When the seventh sun was well-nigh past,<br />
- Came to that dark man's fair abode;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and we are immediately on the full tide of the
-narrative again.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Morris further achieves that supreme distinction
-in narrative of indicating clearly at the
-outset what the issue is to be, and yet retaining
-our interest easily and completely. One of the
-most distinguished of living critics[<a id="chap04fn1text"></a><a href="#chap04fn1">1</a>] has drawn
-attention to this power in Shakespeare; there
-is no vulgar endeavour to startle us by any
-surprising turns of character; what surprise there
-is to be will be found in the event. So deftly
-does the greatest of poets embody his characters
-at the moment when he brings them before us
-that we know instinctively how they will act
-in the events presented to us. In the case of
-Morris this power is, perhaps, even more strongly
-marked, for the reason that the web of circumstance
-that he folds round his people is of a far
-less subtle texture. It may be said, with but
-little exaggeration, that the sole emotions with
-which he is concerned are the love of man for
-woman, physical heroism, and the worship of
-external beauty. Again, it must be remembered
-that the simplicity implied by this statement is
-coloured and invested with the mystery of life
-itself by the temperament through which it is
-presented, but with this vital qualification the
-fact may be so set down. Nearly all his stories
-are cast in the same general outline: the desire
-of the lover, consummated or defeated only
-after long physical struggle and sacrifice; the
-inscrutable shadow of death looming behind
-attainment and failure alike; the progress of
-the narrative fashioned on a background where
-nature and art combine to please and soothe
-with an endless pageant of loveliness. <i>The Life
-and Death of Jason</i> may, perhaps, be advanced
-as an instance disproving this contention, but
-a moment's reflection shows that the central
-interest of the poem, the interest by the side of
-which all else recedes into the position of that
-pageantry, is the love of Jason and Medea. The
-quest of the Golden Fleece, the adventures of
-the heroes, the treachery of Pelias, these things,
-exquisitely handled as they are, are but the
-canvas upon which is thrown a sublime and
-elemental love story. The finest book of the
-poem, the last, wherein is told nothing but
-the triumph and withering of that love, is not
-only on a level with Morris's own highest
-achievement, but among the supreme things in
-poetry. The hopeless yet unutterably poignant
-figure of Medea; the tenderness and the
-untutored simplicity of Glance, the child who is
-the tragic plaything of the deeper and more
-world-beaten natures against whom she is
-thrown; the desperate self-deception of Jason
-and the terrible degradation of his essential
-nobility&mdash;these are drawn with an intensity, at
-once fierce and restrained, that bears witness to
-the height that narrative poetry may attain in
-the hands of a master.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Not only is the substance of these poems of
-this transparently simple texture, but the form
-of expression created by Morris is so specially
-fitted for the purpose that the structures as a
-whole stand almost without parallel for precision
-of outline and clearness of detail. He appears
-to have determined that neither overloading of
-diction and imagery nor intricacy of metrical
-effect should interfere with the conduct of his
-narrative. Having no superficially subtle or
-complex statement to make, and keeping always
-before him the purpose to produce a memorable
-cumulative effect without striving at all for
-isolated felicities of phrasing, he is never forced
-to pause for the fitting word. The words that
-go to the making of a line flow as naturally and
-certainly from his pen as the letters that fashion
-a word from the pen of another. Nowhere are
-there any signs of labour; nowhere the
-tumultuous glory of language that rushes at times
-from the lips of more variable if not greater
-poets; and yet, with the rarest exceptions, he
-nowhere descends from his own high level. For
-sheer consistency of excellence he probably has
-no rival. The supremacy of his narrative poems
-lies in the fact that Morris achieved what he
-attempted completely and with perfect ease. As
-in his life, so in his poetry do we feel that we
-are in the presence of a titanic strength that is
-never exerting itself to the utmost; and we are
-constantly being led, in consequence, to that
-exercise of the imagination which creates the
-most potent sympathy between the artist and
-his audience.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I have spoken of a certain easy decorative
-elaboration that Morris uses in these stories,
-and it is this quality that has led many people
-into a misunderstanding of his poetry. To
-say that a poet is swift in narration does not
-necessarily mean that his sole purpose is to get
-the story finished in the least possible time, but
-that the narrative is unimpeded at the moments
-when most we demand its progress. To say
-that this is the only right method would involve
-enquiry into notable instances where it is not
-employed, which would be to digress unduly,
-but most of Scott's novels might be advanced
-as examples. There we are constantly brought
-to a standstill at vital points in the conduct of
-the story whilst some thread that has been laid
-aside is again taken up, again to be dropped
-when it has been drawn to a point in common
-with the rest of the development. This Morris
-never does; the sequence of his narrative is
-always direct, and the crises of his story are
-always carried through at a stroke. But in
-observing this condition of emphasizing his most
-momentous periods in a perfectly logical
-continuity and boldness of statement, he does not
-deny himself the right to fill in the spaces
-between those periods with the large ease and
-contemplative calm which have their corresponding
-manifestations in life. Hannibal was
-not momentarily adding leaves to his laurels.
-And Jason journeying from Thessaly to Colchis
-finds many adventures, and Morris records
-them with vigour and intensity and the sound
-of swords; but he finds, too, pleasant days of
-even enjoyment and companionship with his
-fellows, when they move delightedly about a
-new countryside or see for the first time some
-storied place or gather together to talk of their
-homeland. And these are days that Morris is
-not at all content to leave unsung, and his
-instinct is perfectly sound. It is strange that
-these lovely interludes that lie between
-adventure and adventure should ever be, as they
-often are, called "languid." They denote, on
-the contrary, a spiritual activity astonishing in
-its range and sanity. For they imply a recognition
-on the part of the poet that to pass down
-a river on a golden afternoon, or to lie beneath
-the stars at night, or to move beneath the walls
-of an unknown city whilst memories of home
-and kin crowd on the mind, is an experience as
-adventurous as the riding of a storm or the
-winning of a Golden Fleece. To be languid
-is to be indifferent, and indifference in the
-presence of anything not wholly alienated from
-nature and simple humanity was the last thing
-of which Morris was capable. So that when
-Medea has to go from her home to the wood,
-the poet is not forgetful of the path by which
-she has to go. His eyes are always open.
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;... a blind pathway leads<br />
- Betwixt the yellow corn and whispering reeds,<br />
- The home of many a shy quick-diving bird;<br />
- Thereby they passed, and as they went they heard<br />
- Splashing of fish, and ripple of the stream;<br />
- And once they saw across the water's gleam<br />
- The black boat of some fisher of the night....<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-To travel in the company of one whose senses
-are so vitally responsive to every sound and
-sight of beauty, to every tremor of emotion
-that may show itself in the people whom we
-meet on the wayside, demands no small spiritual
-alertness in ourselves. But if we fail to keep
-pace with his glorious and inexhaustible
-curiosity, if our joy is not sane and unjaded as his,
-it will not mend our case to call him languid.
-It is we who lack energy, not he. Every man
-is quick-witted in the ranks of battle or the
-sack of cities; the true test of his vitality is to
-see whether he remains so under the orchard
-boughs or in the walk from his doorstep to the
-market-place. Our position in this matter is
-but the logical issue of a social condition against
-which the whole of Morris's life and art were a
-revolt. Most of us have made the working
-hours of the day a burden to be borne merely
-for the sake of the wage that follows; the work
-itself is to us no more than a weariness. It is
-not necessary to examine here the economic
-causes of this result, but the result itself is
-obvious enough. And in consequence we call
-for the intervals between work and work to be
-filled either by strange excitement or sleep.
-And so we pass from lethargy through more or
-less violent sensations to forgetfulness. Morris
-would have none of this. Work meant for him,
-as it must mean for us all once more before we
-regain our sanity and wholesomeness, a constant
-sense of joy in self-expression, heightened now
-and again, as it were, by the salt and sting of
-great adventures. Into this scheme of life are
-admitted seasons of quiet contemplation, of
-responsiveness to such common things as the
-beauty of the clouds or the soft sound of earth
-breaking to the plough, hours when all the
-simple and recurrent bounties of the day are
-accepted joyfully and without question. Into
-his poetry Morris translated all these; the
-great adventures, the deep sense of the
-satisfaction of labour, and the quiet moods. Our
-faculties may be so weakened that they are
-stirred by the great adventures alone; but
-it is no fault of the poet's if we confuse his
-calm and reflective exaltation with our own
-lethargy.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In speaking of the <i>Guenevere</i> volume it was
-necessary to examine the poems more or less in
-detail and separately, for they were the changing
-expressions of a creative mind not yet sure of
-itself, of a temperament that had not yet found
-its philosophic moorings. Throughout <i>The
-Life and Death of Jason</i> and <i>The Earthly
-Paradise</i>, however, we have a unity of vision, a
-gathering up of all things into the terms of one
-personal reading of life, that make it possible to
-speak of them more generally and with less
-qualification from word to word. Having
-defined the nature of the form that Morris was
-using in these poems and his particular manner
-of handling it, we may try to realize the view of
-the world that he was seeking to present. We
-may pass from the announcement to the discovery
-itself. Morris in his poetry simplified his
-aim enormously by steadily eliminating two
-things&mdash;enquiry into the unknown, and all
-endeavour to 'set the crooked straight.' When he
-called himself 'Dreamer of dreams born out of
-my due time' and asked 'Why should I strive
-to set the crooked straight?' he was not, again
-let it be said, refusing to face the world about
-him, but announcing that as poet his concern
-was not to destroy but to create. And whatever
-good results might attend the speculation of
-others as to death and the secret purposes of God,
-he felt that for him, at least, it was unprofitable
-employment. The issue of this purpose is that
-we have a world wherein all the simple but
-positive things stand out shining in the light of
-a highly-organized creative temperament,
-undimmed by questioning doubt on the one hand
-or a cloud of superficial intricacies of
-circumstance on the other. In his later socialist
-teaching Morris sought in some means to show
-how these intricacies might be cleared away
-in practice, but in his poetry he presupposes
-a life where the natural impulses of men are
-unfettered by all save eternal circumstance.
-His philosophy becomes one of extraordinary
-directness and simplicity, and yet it retains
-everything by which the spirit and body of man
-really have their being. To love, and if needs
-be to battle for love, to labour and find labour
-the one unchanging delight, to be intimate with
-all the moods and seasons of earth, to be
-generous alike in triumph and defeat, to fear death
-and yet to be heroic in the fear, to be the heirs
-of sin and sorrow in so far as these things were
-the outcome of events that were permanent and
-not ephemeral in their nature&mdash;of such did he
-conceive the state of men to be in the earthly
-paradise that he was tying to create in his art.
-We are yet far from realizing the state. The
-din of the thousand claims of the crooked to be
-set straight is loud in our ears, and the cleansing
-of the moment must be done. But not until
-we can accustom ourselves to the thought that
-this state is, if not yet realized, at least realizable,
-can we hope to work out any salvation for
-ourselves or the world. We suffer daily from a
-neglect of the positive and creative for the
-negative and destructive. In England the
-symbols of our national thought are curiously
-expressive of this fact. We decorate and honour
-our soldiers whose business, be it to destroy or
-to be destroyed, is, in any case, connected with
-destruction; those of our lawyers who are
-chiefly concerned with restraint and punishment;
-our politicians who spend their time protecting
-us from assaults of neighbours and communities
-as commercially rapacious as ourselves, or, in
-their more enlightened moments, in adjusting
-wrongs that are the dregs in the cup of civilization.
-The functions of these men may be necessities
-of society, but they nevertheless apply to
-the small negative aspect of our state and not the
-great normal life. It is that which is, rightly, the
-concern of our creative artists; but our creative
-artists are not decorated and honoured by the
-nation as such. Occasionally when Europe has
-insisted long enough on the presence of a great
-artist among us, we make some belated recognition
-of the fact, and occasionally we become sentimental
-and throw a few pounds a year to a poet whom
-we refuse to pay proper wages for his work.
-This of course does not injure the artist, but it
-is all very eloquent as to the frame of our
-national mind. However many noble individual
-exceptions there may be, the fact remains that
-nationally we acclaim the negative and neglect
-the positive manifestations of man. Morris's
-art was, implicitly, a challenge to this temper
-and a means of escape from it. For, despite all
-the clamour that the good and evil voices of the
-destroyers make, we are ultimately forced back
-to the admission that they fill only a very small
-corner of our lives. The daily charities and
-heroisms, the discipline of fellowship and love,
-the worship of beauty and the pride of shaping
-with hand and brain, are all independent of
-them, and they are the justification of life. If
-we have crowded them out of our daily courses,
-then it is for the poets to lead us back to them.
-This they do most certainly, not by denouncing
-us for our folly or reviling the evil to which we
-have fallen, but by showing us, in being, our lost
-estate. This Morris did, and to understand this
-is to understand the root and flower of his
-philosophy as poet.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It is not to be supposed that the world of
-Morris's poetry is a world purged of error. He
-did not imagine an ideal humanity, but a
-humanity drawn from all the finer phases of
-experience, its vision free of the veils of a highly
-artificial social state. It is a common thing to
-hear people express surprise that men who
-behave towards each other with bitter animosity
-in business or official or political life are on
-generous and friendly terms in their homes or
-in what is called private life, and the solution
-is generally offered that whilst they differ
-fiercely on profoundly vital subjects, they can
-afford to be tolerant and even generous to each
-other in less important matters. The solution
-is, of course, as far astray from facts as it could
-be. The truth is that in the conduct of the
-things that are of permanent significance these
-men behave to each other generally with the
-innate nobility of humanity, and at times with
-humanity's natural imperfection. There is
-among them a deep sense of comradeship and
-common delight, broken only at times by the
-reaction of emotions not yet wholly chastened,
-expressing itself in a violation of conflicting
-interests. But when these same men are
-brought into contact in surroundings compact
-of that artificiality of which I have spoken,
-those surroundings create a hundred new and
-shifting standards, and with them as many
-strange little jealousies and rancours which are
-stifled immediately simple humanity is once
-again allowed its proper dominion. The sin
-and the sorrow that are the issue of this
-imperfection in humanity Morris uses at their full
-and tragic values in his poetry, but to the
-nervous irritation which is as some new disease
-which we have invented for ourselves unaided
-by the gods he paid no heed. This is why his
-poetry, all its vitality and strength notwithstanding,
-is so peaceful. His people may suffer great
-troubles and deal hard blows, love passionately
-and lose fiercely, but at no time do they move
-with the confused unrest of men who are never
-sure of themselves, having between their vision
-and the world a thousand petty accidents of
-will. They are deep-lunged, but they never
-babble and chatter; they have enormous energy
-but are never restless.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As though to emphasize the singleness of his
-aim in these poems, Morris uses the simplest
-verse-forms. <i>Jason</i> is written in heroic
-couplets, the prologue and seven tales of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> in the same measure, seven
-tales in octosyllabic couplets and ten in
-seven-lined Chaucerian stanzas. Metrical experiments
-occasionally make some definite addition to
-poetry, but they more often result in mere
-formlessness. The wide acceptance of certain
-forms by the poets through centuries of practice
-does not point to any lack of invention or weak
-servility on the part of the poets, but to some
-inherent fitness in the forms. Tradition is a
-fetter only to the weak; it is the privilege of
-the sovereign poet to invest it with his own
-personality and make it distinctively his own.
-From Marlowe down to Mr. Yeats the heroic
-couplet has been a new vehicle in the hands
-of new poets, and its vigour is unimpaired.
-Morris in accepting proved forms merely
-accepted the responsibility of proving himself.
-The result is never for a moment in doubt&mdash;his
-use of the ten and eight syllable line and the
-stanza that he took from his master is as clearly
-pervaded by his own temperament as is his
-vision itself. It is one of the subtlest faculties
-of genius, this shaping of a manner which shall
-chime exactly with mood and emotional outlook.
-Just as Shakespeare's expression is prodigal
-in strength and variety, and Milton's full of
-weight and dignity, and Pope's marked at all
-points by precision, and Shelley's by a wild and
-fluctuating speed, so Morris's is everywhere
-animated by a pure and virile loveliness and an
-all-suffusing sense of pity. His utterance is in
-perfect harmony with his spiritual temper. We
-have seen that whilst he accepts the tragedy of
-the world at its full value as something
-fundamental and inseparable from humanity, he
-rejects the mere ugliness of the world as being an
-artificial product of an abnormal state. And
-so, when he has to write of a dead woman lying
-in a peasant's hut in all the circumstances of
-extreme poverty, he does so with tragic intensity
-whilst eliminating all the inessential ugliness.
-Poverty as we know it in our civilization makes
-an unlovely bedfellow for death, yet Morris
-shows it to us with a precision almost fierce in
-its fidelity to truth, yet beautiful because
-concerned with the simple and essential only&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- On straw the poor dead woman lay;<br />
- The door alone let in the day,<br />
- Showing the trodden earthen floor,<br />
- A board on trestles weak and poor,<br />
- Three stumps of tree for stool or chair,<br />
- A half-glazed pipkin, nothing fair,<br />
- A bowl of porridge by the wife,<br />
- Untouched by lips that lacked for life,<br />
- A platter and a bowl of wood;<br />
- And in the further corner stood<br />
- A bow cut from the wych-elm tree,<br />
- A holly club and arrows three<br />
- Ill pointed, heavy, spliced with thread.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-This passage is a typical example of Morris's
-manner. It shows the occasional hastiness of
-composition that is found at intervals
-throughout his work; 'door' and 'board' in the second
-and fourth lines strike unpleasingly on the ear
-that is carrying the rhyme 'floor&mdash;poor.' But
-it also shows the individuality with which
-Morris handles at all times a well-tried measure;
-it shows, too, the ease with which he conveys
-a certain atmospheric significance apart from
-his actual statement, and, finally, it shows his
-exquisite sense of word-values and his
-extraordinary power of visualization. No poet has
-given more beautiful expression to the sensuous
-delight of the eye than Morris, and even here,
-where the mood is one of profound sorrow, the
-thing seen is described with a sweetness and
-naturalness that makes it bearable; indeed,
-more than bearable, something that we gladly
-remember. In this matter Morris, as we should
-expect, worked always in the greatest tradition
-of art; his most terrible and tragic moments are
-never moments that we wish to forget.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In a paper called <i>Churches of Northern
-France</i> that Morris contributed to "The
-Oxford and Cambridge Magazine," he talks
-about Amiens Cathedral. He imagines it first
-as it would look from one of the steeples of the
-town. 'It rises up from the ground, grey from
-the paving of the street, the cavernous porches
-of the west front opening wide, and marvellous
-with the shadows of the carving you can only
-guess at; and above stand the kings, and above
-that you would see the twined mystery of the
-great flamboyant rose window with its thousand
-openings, and the shadows of the flower-work
-carved round it; then the grey towers and gable,
-grey against the blue of the August sky; and
-behind them all, rising high into the quivering
-air, the tall spire over the crossing.' And then
-again, as you approach, 'the great apse rises
-over you with its belt of eastern chapel; first
-the long slim windows of these chapels, which
-are each of them little apses, the Lady Chapel
-projecting a good way beyond the rest; and
-then, running under the cornice of the chapels
-and outer aisles all round the church, a cornice
-of great noble leaves; then the parapets in
-changing flamboyant patterns; then the conical
-roofs of the chapels hiding the exterior tracery
-of the triforium; then the great clerestory
-windows, very long, of four lights, and stilted,
-the tracery beginning a long way below the
-springing of their arches. And the buttresses
-are so thick, and their arms spread so here, that
-each of the clerestory windows looks down its
-own space between them as if between walls.
-Above the windows rise their canopies running
-through the parapet; and above all the great
-mountainous roof, and all below it and around
-the windows and walls of the choir and apse
-stands the mighty army of the buttresses, holding
-up the weight of the stone roof within with
-their strong arms for ever.' Then, having set
-down the cumulative effect of the great Gothic
-structure in these few strokes, he goes on to
-examine the beauties of its detail, the carving
-on the screens and doors, the figures on the
-tombs, the mouldings and little stories in stone,
-all of them the vital expressions of the joy of
-some nameless craftsman in his work. Apart
-from the side light that these descriptions throw
-on Morris's view of art, we are reminded as we
-read them of the architectural design of <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i>. It has precisely the qualities
-of a Gothic cathedral. The whole scheme of
-the poem, which contrives the alternate narration
-of stories drawn from classic and romantic
-sources, carrying the process along the months
-of the year and setting the whole in a purely
-lyrical framework, results in a massive general
-effect which must be once seen before we can
-wholly realize the beauty of the stories by
-themselves. But once seen it is never forgotten,
-and afterwards we are content to return again and
-again to the detail, as certain of finding satisfaction
-in any of the single stories on which we may
-chance as we are in the tracery of the cloisters
-or the devices on the stalls of a Gothic church.
-It is, of course, the peculiar glory of Gothic&mdash;or
-romantic&mdash;art, that while the parts combine to
-make a whole more wonderful than themselves,
-they yet have an independent beauty and completeness
-of their own. Morris in writing his tales
-was careful never to sacrifice his general outline
-for the sake of momentary effects, but each story
-is complete in itself and separable from the
-rest.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Although it is to be accounted as a virtue to
-Morris that he never sought to decorate his verse
-with jewels that should distract attention from
-the whole texture, it must always be remembered
-that he was absolved from the necessity of doing
-this because the texture itself was of extraordinary
-richness and shot with a hundred colours.
-The first and most obvious danger in a long
-narrative poem is that many passages which are
-concerned with the mere statement of fact
-necessary to the progress of the story will not
-be poetry at all. But moving always, as it were,
-in the open country of the world, away from
-everything that is not intimately related to that
-simplicity of life that has been discussed, Morris
-is never forced to conduct his people over
-moments that are fundamentally incapable of
-poetic treatment. Their most commonplace
-actions are still carried through with the
-vividness that comes of a constant joy in labour and
-direct contact with the earth. A journey means
-the building of a boat and shaping of oars, and
-a loaf of bread is the direct witness of corn
-harvested and ground, and wood gathered for
-the fire. An instance may be taken almost at
-random: Jason and his warriors find that their
-progress is stopped, and that their ship must
-be borne across the land. It is just such a
-moment as might, in the hands of a poet who
-was only anxious to get the matter done to
-comply with the necessities of his narrative,
-sink from poetry altogether. This is how
-Morris manages it:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And there all,<br />
- Half deafened by the noises of the fall<br />
- And bickering rapids, left the ashen oar,<br />
- And spreading over the well-wooded shore<br />
- Cut rollers, laying on full many a stroke,<br />
- And made a capstan of a mighty oak,<br />
- And so drew Argo up, with hale and how,<br />
- On to the grass, turned half to mire now.<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Thence did they toil their best, in drawing her<br />
- Beyond the falls, whereto being come anear,<br />
- They trembled when they saw them; for from sight<br />
- The rocks were hidden by the spray-clouds white,<br />
- Cold, wretched, chilling, and the mighty sound<br />
- Their heavy-laden hearts did sore confound;<br />
- For parted from all men they seemed, and far<br />
- From all the world, shut out by that great bar.<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Moreover, when with toil and pain, at last<br />
- Unto the torrent's head they now had passed,<br />
- They sent forth swift Ætalides to see<br />
- What farther up the river there might be.<br />
- Who, going twenty leagues, another fall<br />
- Found, with great cliffs on each side, like a wall;<br />
- But 'twixt the two, another unbarred stream<br />
- Joined the main river; therefore did they deem,<br />
- When this they heard, that they perforce must try<br />
- This smoother branch; so somewhat heavily<br />
- Argo they launched again, and got them forth<br />
- Still onward toward the winter and the north.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-This is writing on a level below which Morris
-never falls, and it is yet on the side of poetry.
-It is possible for the artist's temperament to
-throw beauty on to an object in itself unlovely,
-and the result is often some confusion of mind
-as to the real source of the beauty. Mr. Brangwyn
-can draw men stripped to the waist
-toiling in the inferno of a black-country
-iron-works, and his creation is beautiful. Emile
-Verhaeren can strike a song out of the utter
-degradation of humanity: but the essential
-poetry in each case is in the soul of the artist
-and not in the subject of his contemplation.
-If our knowledge of the ironworks rested wholly
-on Mr. Brangwyn's report we might well believe
-that it really was strangely and strongly
-beautiful. But if we really know the iron
-works itself, we know that it is hideously ugly,
-using men half as beasts, half as machines,
-choking the air and wounding the earth, a thing
-definitely unpoetic because definitely a denial
-of life. Morris worked in quite another manner.
-Instead of lending ugliness the undeserved
-beauty and colour of his own temperament,
-he stripped all things that came into his vision
-of all that was inessential, all the excrescences
-of accident and will, and then allowed them in
-their renewed simplicity to find natural and
-direct expression. The result is that although
-it may be true to say that Morris has fewer
-single lines which are memorable if detached
-from their context than any other poet at all
-comparable to him in achievement, it is equally
-true to say that he stands alone in the creation
-of a great body of work that moves consistently
-and surely on the plane of poetry from first
-to last with scarcely a single lapse. No poet
-has ever had a more infallible instinct as to
-what was and what was not of the stuff of
-poetry.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-With <i>Jason</i> and <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>,
-Morris establishes his claim to greatness. The
-height of his power is not yet reached, but here
-already we have a breadth of design, an intensity
-of perception, and a sureness of utterance
-about which there can be no question. Not
-only does he prove himself to be a narrative
-poet of the first rank, but in the songs and
-interludes he attains a sweetness and tenderness
-which if not matchless are certainly not
-surpassed. Things like&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- I know a little garden close<br />
- Set thick with lily and red rose,&mdash;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing&mdash;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- O June, O June, that we desired so,<br />
- Wilt thou not make us happy on this day?&mdash;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-&mdash;it is, indeed, unnecessary to add example to
-example&mdash;are of the highest order of lyric
-poetry. The lusty strength and naked passion
-of <i>Sigurd the Volsung</i> are as yet unattempted
-at any sustained pressure, but in all other
-respects the achievement of <i>Jason</i> and <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> is complete and representative.
-Remembering Pope's "awful Aristarch"&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Thy mighty Scholiast, whose unweary'd pains<br />
- Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains.<br />
- Turn what they will to Verse, their toil is vain,<br />
- Critics like me shall make it Prose again&mdash;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-I have refrained from any attempt to re-tell the
-stories that must be read as Morris told them
-or not at all. It has been my purpose rather
-to hold for a moment in trembling hands the
-spirit that is in them and that went to their
-creation.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-At the time of publication of the last volume
-of <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>, Morris had begun the
-study of Icelandic story that was to find its
-splendid culmination six years later in <i>Sigurd
-the Volsung</i>. The history of these beginnings
-will be told more fitly later in connection with
-the consideration of that poem. The completion
-of his great cycle of tales left him momentarily
-with a sense of purposelessness. 'I feel
-rather lost at having done my book,' he writes.
-'I must try to get something serious to do as
-soon as may be ... perhaps something else of
-importance will turn up soon.' He turned
-again to painting, and occupied some of his
-time in book-illumination, an art in which he
-attained a perfection no less memorable than
-that of the mediæval masters. The business of
-Morris and Company was developing rapidly,
-and in 1871 he found a new interest in
-Kelmscott House, the old manor in Oxfordshire that
-was to be his country home until his death.
-The abiding pleasure that his retreat afforded
-him has been beautifully pictured for us in
-Mr. Mackail's "Life." In the same year he
-made his first journey to Iceland, and on his
-return he wrote the poem, which is next to be
-considered, <i>Love is Enough</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="chap04fn1"></a>
-[<a href="#chap04fn1text">1</a>] Mr. Stopford Brooke.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap05"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-V
-<br /><br />
-LOVE IS ENOUGH AND SIGURD THE VOLSUNG
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-Discipleship in art is a thing very commonly
-misunderstood. The poet with centuries of
-activity behind him will inevitably find in this
-voice or that an expression with which his own
-temperament is in more or less direct sympathy,
-and, if his nature be not cramped, he will make
-full acknowledgment of the fact. But this
-loving recognition of fellowship has nothing
-whatever to do with imitation. In demanding
-originality of the poet we do not expect him to
-sing as though he moved in an untrodden world.
-We might as reasonably ask each man to invent
-a new speech; we should be doing no more than
-carrying our demand to its logical issue. We
-insist, and rightly, that the poet shall interpret
-experience for us in the terms of his own
-personality, but we must remember that the work
-of his predecessors is an enormously important
-part of experience, and when he finds some
-aspect of that work in correspondence with his
-own adventures he will, quite naturally, take it
-up in some measure into his own creation.
-Confusion in this matter has led to considerable
-injustice in many estimates of Morris. His
-repeated announcements of Chaucer as his
-master and his open allegiance throughout his life
-to certain phases of mediæval art, have caused
-it to be said that his mood and expression are
-alike archaic, the word being used to mean
-obsolete. As to the mood, the suggestion is so
-preposterous as to be unworthy of an answer;
-it is obsolete just in so far as the fundamental
-things of life are obsolete. As to expression,
-Morris's free use of such words as 'certes,' 'Fair
-sir,' 'I trow,' and so forth is supposed to lend
-support to the suggestion. It does nothing of
-the kind, of course. Morris uses these words
-not for their especial value, but as simply and
-naturally as he does the common parts of
-speech. The words in themselves are perfectly
-fit for use in poetry, and the discredit into which
-they may have fallen is entirely due to inferior
-writers who have sought to make them in themselves
-substitutes for poetry. To rule that their
-abuse henceforth makes their proper use impossible
-is, however, absurd. It may be discreet in
-a poet to-day to avoid nymphs and Diana and
-the pipes of Pan, but to say beforehand that his
-traffic with these will be disastrous is merely to
-lay ourselves open to the most salutary
-correction at any moment. Morris used words
-such as those of which I have spoken without
-hesitation, but he always subordinated them to
-their right offices, and their influence in either
-direction upon his general manner is negligible.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-This question arises more naturally in the
-discussion of <i>Love is Enough</i> than elsewhere.
-Superficially the play may be said to be an
-attempt to reconstruct the spirit and, in a
-smaller degree, the form of the early English
-morality, but close consideration of the play
-necessitates qualification of this statement at
-almost every step. The resemblance in form is
-to be found not in the structure but in the
-alliterative verse that Morris uses for the central
-action of the play. But even in the verse there
-are qualities that belong to Morris alone; he
-not only discarded rhyme, which was employed
-by Bale and the unknown poets of an earlier
-day in their interludes and mysteries, but he
-brought to his lines a greater regularity and
-fulness. The pauses that play so important a
-part in the early alliterative verse are replaced
-by syllabic values, and the shortening of lines is
-far less arbitrary than in his models. The result,
-especially of the added fulness, is that a certain
-bare simplicity is lost, and curiously enough this
-poem, where he was influenced by a form that
-with all its faults has an extraordinary directness
-and incisiveness of statement, is the most
-difficult among all his works to read. The long
-lines with their constant tightening up of
-syllables are frequently too heavy for the statement.
-Many passages are of great beauty, as for
-example:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- As my twin sister, young of years was she and slender,<br />
- Yellow blossoms of spring-tide her hands had been gathering,<br />
- But the gown-lap that held them had fallen adown<br />
- And had lain round her feet with the first of the singing;<br />
- Now her singing had ceased, though yet heaved her bosom<br />
- As with lips lightly parted and eyes of one seeking<br />
- She stood face to face with the Love that she knew not,<br />
- The love that she longed for and waited unwitting...<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and there are numberless lines where the
-precision of statement is admirable, as&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- In memory of days when my meat was but little<br />
- And my drink drunk in haste between saddle and straw...<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I saw her<br />
- Stealing barefoot, bareheaded amidst of the tulips<br />
- Made grey by the moonlight...<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-but the experiment in a form that is not now,
-after four centuries of development, really
-natural to the language is, on the whole, a failure.
-It is, indeed, true that as we read through it the
-measure becomes more acceptable to the ear,
-but there is a difficulty in the outline which no
-familiarity can wholly overcome.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The structure of the play is mainly of Morris's
-own invention, and is of singular beauty. The
-figure of Love, who may be said to correspond
-roughly to the Doctor or Messenger of the early
-moralities, stands, not between the action and
-the audience, but between the action and the
-people of an outer play; and, again, beyond this
-we have a further group. The structure is,
-briefly, this. The morality itself; Love and
-The Music who act as spiritual interpreters and
-as chorus between the action and the Emperor
-and Empress for whom the townsfolk are having
-the play performed; and finally the peasants
-Giles and Joan who are equally interested in
-the play and its imaginary spectators, translate
-the spiritual commentaries of Love and The
-Music into terms of their own simple workaday
-existence, and, lastly, act in some sort as chorus
-between the whole representation and the actual
-audience. There is a subtlety of design in all this
-that reaches far beyond the conceptions of the
-sombre and rugged poets of pre-Shakespearean
-England, and although the play fails in other
-respects, Morris here shows more clearly even
-than in <i>Sir Peter Harpdon's End</i> that he
-understood the exact meaning of the element
-contributed by the chorus to drama more fully than
-any poet of recent times.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the central action, the morality itself, there
-are three principal figures, Pharamond the King,
-Oliver his old counsellor and foster-father, and
-Azalais. Morris retains the method of his models
-in that these figures are not characters but rather
-abstractions. Pharamond is not so much a man
-as mankind, Everyman. Oliver is much more
-definitely a personality, but he is used as a
-symbol of the better nature of man, not able
-quite to understand spiritual nobility, but
-content, even eager, to follow it. Azalais is Love,
-both giving and taking. The motive of the play
-is stated clearly in the title, Love is Enough.
-Pharamond leaves kingship, fame, everything,
-and sets out to find this thing only, and in
-finding it proves and finds himself. But we must
-return to the motive a little later. The point
-next to be considered is this symbolic use of
-figures in action. The method of the old poets
-was to invest these figures at the outset with
-a certain presupposed and generally accepted
-significance, and to start from that point. They
-did not attempt to explain what Luxury, Riot,
-Riches, Knowledge, Humility and Charity were,
-but simply gave these names to their figures and
-trusted their audience to fill in the outlines.
-Then taking a central figure as protagonist,
-Everyman or Youth or some such symbol, they
-brought him into contact with the rest and
-allowed all the emotion of the play to arise
-out of the transition of his moods as he is
-influenced by them in turn. There is never the
-least doubt as to the lines along which each of
-these figures will work; they carry their natures
-in their names. We know that Pride will betray
-Youth as surely as we know that his Knowledge
-and Good Deeds alone will bide with
-Everyman. But there is nothing dramatic in
-the spectacle of Pride forsaking Youth until
-we see the complementary loyalty of Charity
-and Humility, and we are moved by the
-tenderness of Good Deeds and Knowledge towards
-Everyman simply because we have just seen
-Strength and Beauty desert him in his need.
-These transitions of mood are carried through
-with consistent swiftness and are defined by the
-direct contact of the figures, not by reflective
-comment, or only so in a subordinate degree.
-<i>Everyman</i>, which is the crown of these early
-plays, realizes these conditions most perfectly.
-The protagonist is commanded to make his
-reckoning before God. He asks Fellowship to
-accompany him on his journey through Death's
-gates. Fellowship refuses, and so in turn do
-Goods, Kindred, Strength, Discretion, Five
-Wits, and the rest of them, as we knew they
-would. Then he is aided by Knowledge, Good
-Deeds and Confession, and sets out content.
-Save for the few speeches that summarize the
-situation from time to time, there is absolutely
-no comment on the development of the play;
-the whole effect depends on the swift passage
-from one crude symbol to another. Within its
-own limitations, this simple method not only
-succeeded in holding the audience for whom it
-was first employed, but is completely effective
-to-day. The Elizabethan drama threw it aside
-to make room for its own greater glories, but
-it is not impossible that a great poet should yet
-return to it, and with the accumulated wisdom
-of the poets who have worked since then in his
-blood, refashion it into something of a strange
-new beauty. In <i>Love is Enough</i> Morris adopted
-it only to a point, and failed in consequence.
-He set out to enunciate a definite lesson, and
-he invested his figures with symbolic
-significance, but he carried the method no further.
-Pharamond, instead of passing swiftly from
-stage to stage in pursuit of his end and
-showing us that love is enough, pauses for long
-periods to tell us that love is enough. His
-speeches are, generally, lyrical developments of
-one theme, and wholly beautiful as many of
-them are as such they destroy the cohesion
-of the play as a whole. The design of <i>Love is
-Enough</i> is no wider in its scope than that of
-"Everyman," indeed not so wide, and yet the
-play is, roughly, three times as long. I am
-not, of course, attempting any comparison of
-the spirit of the two plays; there is no point
-at which this is possible; my comparison is
-merely between the uses to which they employ
-the same method.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Herein, it seems to me, lies the failure of
-<i>Love is Enough</i> in so far as it is a failure at all.
-The central part of the design is so carried out
-as to disturb the general balance. It was not
-necessary for Morris to choose this particular
-form for his inner play, but having done so he
-was mistaken in not observing its principles
-more closely. But, having said this, it is
-necessary to add that in many ways <i>Love is
-Enough</i> stands with Morris's finest achievements
-in poetry. In the morality of Pharamond
-itself, and apart from all difficulties of
-the verse-form, there is love-poetry that is
-scarcely to be surpassed in its depth and
-tenderness. In this play Morris departed from his
-usual ways. His narrative and epic writing and
-his lyrics have nothing of that didacticism which
-if not essential is at least proper to the greatest
-art. Art confesses to no limitations. In <i>Love
-is Enough</i>, however, he allowed himself this new
-privilege, and he translates his teaching into art
-with perfect instinct. Here, as throughout his
-work, it is impossible to point to any passage
-and say, "that is not poetry," and yet speech
-after speech is as specifically didactic as the
-Sermon on the Mount. In the words of
-Pharamond, in the stately heroic couplets
-spoken by Love, and in the exquisite stanzas
-of The Music he pursues the same theme, and
-over and over again he carries it to a sublime
-pitch of intensity.
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- What, Faithful&mdash;do I lie, that overshot<br />
- My dream-web is with that which happeneth not?<br />
- Nay, nay, believe it not!&mdash;love lies alone<br />
- In loving hearts like fire within the stone:<br />
- Then strikes my hand, and lo, the flax ablaze!<br />
- &mdash;Those tales of empty striving and lost days<br />
- Folk tell of sometimes&mdash;never lit my fire<br />
- Such ruin as this; but Pride and Vain-desire,<br />
- My counterfeits and foes, have done the deed.<br />
- Beware, Beloved! for they sow the weed<br />
- Where I the wheat: they meddle where I leave,<br />
- Take what I scorn, cast by what I receive,<br />
- Sunder my yoke, yoke that I would dissever,<br />
- Pull down the house my hands would build for ever.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-In this poem, too, we find the isolated
-instances wherein Morris makes some allusion to
-the desire for seeing beyond the veils of our
-existence, some suggestion of the hope of
-spring when leaves are falling. Even here
-there is none of the exultant certainty of the
-<i>Ode to the West Wind</i>, but a quiet fearlessness
-that is no less inspiring and consoling in
-its way&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Live on, for Love liveth, and earth shall be shaken<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By the wind of his wings on the triumphing morning,<br />
- When the dead and their deeds that die not shall awaken,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And the world's tale shall sound in your trumpet of warning,<br />
- And the sun smite the banner called Scorn of the Scorning,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And dead pain ye shall trample, dead fruitless desire,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As ye wend to pluck out the new world from the fire.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And again&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- In what wise, ah, in what wise shall it be?<br />
- How shall the bark that girds the winter tree<br />
- Babble about the sap that sleeps beneath,<br />
- And tell the fashion of its life and death?<br />
- How shall my tongue in speech man's longing wrought<br />
- Tell of the things whereof he knoweth nought?<br />
- Should I essay it might ye understand<br />
- How those I love shall share my promised land!<br />
- Then must I speak of little things as great,<br />
- Then must I tell of love and call it hate,<br />
- Then must I bid you seek what all men shun,<br />
- Reward defeat, praise deeds that were not done.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The Emperor and Empress who watch the
-play point its moral for themselves, and their
-somewhat remote humanity serves admirably
-as a step between the pure poetry of the central
-action and the homespun reality of Giles and
-Joan. They send gifts to the actors of
-Pharamond and Azalais, and then the Emperor&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fain had I been<br />
- To see him face to face and his fair Queen,<br />
- And thank him friendly, asking him maybe<br />
- How the world looks to one with love set free;<br />
- It may not be, for as thine eyes say, sweet,<br />
- Few folk as friends shall unfreed Pharamond meet.<br />
- So is it: we are lonelier than those twain,<br />
- Though from their vale they ne'er depart again.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-But Giles and his wife are under no such restraint
-of state; they will bid the players to their home
-and be their scholars for a while
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- In many a lesson of sweet lore<br />
- To learn love's meaning more and more,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and the scene between the two peasants that
-ends the play is an idyll full of the simple
-fragrance and humanity and earth-love that
-were the crowning splendours of <i>Jason</i> and
-<i>The Earthly Paradise</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In 1869 the poet had published his translation
-of the <i>Grettir Saga</i>, carried out in collaboration
-with Eiríkr Magnússon, and this was followed
-in the next year by the <i>Völsunga Saga</i> from
-the same hands. Morris's feeling for the
-northern stories had already found expression
-in more than one of the tales in <i>The Earthly
-Paradise</i>, notably 'The Lovers of Gudrun,'
-and the Icelandic visit of 1871 was followed
-by a second in 1873. In 1875 he published
-<i>Three Northern Love Stories</i>, translations of
-extraordinary directness and conviction, and
-these six years of study of and service to the
-curiously neglected story of the northern race
-were now approaching their culminating triumph.
-To examine these various preliminary essays in
-detail here is neither possible nor necessary. The
-journals of the travel in Iceland, written as they
-were without any definite purpose of publication,
-show how intensely he was moved by the spirit
-of the Sagas, how close his own being was to it.
-Every stone was quick with a tradition that
-meant for him the very breath of splendid and
-heroic life. His feeling for the earth was at
-all times, as we have seen, one of an almost
-indefinable tenderness and yearning, but once
-he had seen Iceland it was the earth that
-nourished Sigurd and Brynhild and Gunnar
-and Gudrun that was thenceforth most deeply
-rooted in his love. The austere beauty and
-gloomy strength of the Icelandic countryside
-were from that time sacred things in his
-imagination, and it was, perhaps, not without
-taking thought that in the first poem that he
-wrote on his return he made Pharamond, when
-trying to recall the country to which he must
-again turn to find the end of his seeking, say
-that
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ever meseemeth<br />
- 'Twas not in the Southlands.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-In the preface to the translation of the
-<i>Völsunga Saga</i>, the last paragraph says:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'In conclusion, we must again say how strange it
-seems to us, that this Volsung Tale, which is in fact
-a universified poem, should never have been translated
-into English. For this is the Great Story of the
-North, which should be to all our race what the Tale
-of Troy was to the Greeks&mdash;to all our race first, and
-afterwards, when the change of the world has made
-our race nothing more than the name of what has
-been&mdash;a story too&mdash;then should it be to those that
-came after us no less than the Tale of Troy has been
-to us.'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-That was in 1870. Now, five years later,
-with the whole story matured in his mind,
-with its appeal quickened by the exploration
-of its landscape, he determined to gather up
-its essential features and fuse them through
-his own temperament into a new completeness
-both of substance and music. It was a tremendous
-undertaking, both in its actual difficulties
-and its responsibility. Morris was not
-likely to hesitate before the difficulties, but he
-realized perfectly the danger of attempting to
-reshape a story which, as it stood, he
-reverenced as the greatest in the world. To have
-done it ill or in any way other than excellently
-would have been an unpardonable sin against
-himself. The risk was taken, and <i>The Story
-of Sigurd</i>, <i>The Volsung</i>, and the <i>Fall of the
-Niblungs</i> was published in 1876. It is not
-only the supreme achievement of a great poet,
-but one of the very great poems of the modern
-world.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The story of Sigurd, showing in the beginning
-the Volsung heritage to which he is born and
-in the end the fall of the Niblung house that
-comes of his death, with his life set between
-these, satisfies the requirements of epic poetry
-as, perhaps, does no other. We have the first
-necessities of architectural form satisfied&mdash;the
-beginning, the development, the close. Then
-in the main theme, the life of Sigurd, we have
-a story of men and women living under normal
-conditions. They are, indeed, the conditions
-of a heroic world, but the central events of the
-tale are controlled not by abnormal circumstance
-or artificial conditions, but by fundamental
-human emotions. Behind these events we have
-a landscape that is in direct imaginative
-correspondence with the character of the people&mdash;that
-has gone to the shaping of this character. This
-is a matter of peculiar importance. When, in
-poetry, the scene of action moves freely from
-one country to another, as it does, for example,
-in "Childe Harold," the landscape becomes
-merely an ornament, but when the scene is fixed
-and the characters move consistently in their
-own homeland, then the landscape becomes a
-corporate part of the poem's significance. Sigurd
-would be the less Sigurd away from his grey
-mountains and unpeopled heaths and the dusk
-of his pine-woods. And then finally we have
-the will set over man's will suffusing the whole
-in the intangible yet tremendous sense of Fate,
-the Wrath and Sorrow of Odin.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It has been said that in opening the poem
-with the tale of Sigmund, Sigurd's father, and
-the destruction of the Volsungs Morris
-imperilled the unity of his epic, if indeed he did
-not destroy it. When a critic of Mr. Mackail's
-distinction and proved insight makes a
-pronouncement we can differ from him only with
-the greatest respect, and knowing that ultimately
-these things are not fixed, being variable as
-men's understandings. It seems to me, then, that
-this first book, called Sigmund, is the inevitable
-opening of the epic of Sigurd. Not because,
-as another critic suggests, it forms a background
-of mystery and heroic terror upon which to
-throw the more human story that follows, but
-because it introduces the whole motive of
-that story. One does not wish to stray into
-polemics, but here again I must dissent from
-another writer, Miss May Morris, and again I
-do so with full appreciation of the value of those
-introductions of which I have already spoken.
-Miss Morris also points out that this first book
-'introduces the very motive of the epic,' but
-she identifies that motive with the Wrath and
-Sorrow of Odin. But the motive is in reality
-the splendid survival of one brand plucked from
-the ashes of the Volsung house; the avenging,
-not in blood, but in the one swift arc of Sigurd's
-heroic life in a world wherein he stands
-magnificently alone, of the Volsung name. The sense
-of Fate, the wide horizons, the sinister figure of
-Grimhild and the terrors of the Glittering
-Heath are all alike influences that work upon
-the shaping of this central theme, and to confuse
-them with the motive itself makes it impossible
-to see clearly the rightful place of the book of
-Sigmund in the poem. It is there that the
-disaster, the catastrophe, of which Sigurd's
-passage from birth to death is the compensation
-and adjustment is set forth, and without it,
-it seems to me, the epic unity of the poem
-would not have been intensified, but made
-impossible.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There is, however, a difficulty of another kind
-in this opening book. The quality of all others
-in the <i>Völsunga Saga</i> that fits it for the highest
-poetry is its elemental humanity, and it was
-this that stirred Morris most deeply and inspired
-his most memorable work, here as elsewhere.
-The Sigmund Story of the Saga, however, is as
-much savage as human, and savage not with the
-primal fierceness of man but with the terrible
-and implacable caprice of a malign, or at least
-inhuman Fate. Here, as later in the poem, that
-Fate is embodied in the figure of Odin, but
-there is a profound difference. When Sigurd
-has slain Fafnir and found Brynhild on Hindfell,
-the humanity of the story reacts perfectly
-clearly upon the Fate that overshadows all.
-The Fate loses none of its power, but it is
-humanized, mellowed, and as it were made tolerable
-by taking into itself something of the human
-spirit of love. In the Sigmund book there is
-none of this, and, indeed, the same is to be said
-of the second book called Regin. Until Sigurd
-himself begins to control the story, the
-characters are in constant peril of being swung out
-of their courses by some fierce stroke of the
-gods, meaningless and wholly unrelated to
-anything in themselves. It is a supportable
-argument to advance that this happens in life, but
-the answer is that it should not happen in great
-art. Morris's difficulty was, of course, that he
-was loth to interfere with the story as it came
-to him in the Saga, but I cannot help feeling
-that he here allowed his loyalty in some measure
-to betray his artistic instinct. It was just one
-of those supreme difficulties that face only the
-men who are attempting supreme ends. <i>Sigurd
-The Volsung</i> as it stands ranks with the
-masterpieces of which the countless millions of men
-have but created a score or so between them.
-The Sigmund book was essential to his epic;
-had Morris been able to retain the terror of the
-Saga and yet invest it more fully with the
-primal impulse of humanity, it is not easy
-to point to any product of man that would
-have been clearly entitled to rank above this
-poem.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In speaking of a thing for which we have the
-deepest reverence, we would be very clear. The
-books of Sigmund and Regin, as Morris has
-given them to us, remain the poetry of a great
-poet. Whole passages rise to a height as to which
-there can be no question. The first lines of the
-poem are enough to satisfy any intelligence
-that knows what epic poetry is that here we are
-to be in the presence of fine issues finely
-wrought&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- There was a dwelling of Kings ere the world was waxen old;<br />
- Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;with gold;<br />
- Earls were the wrights that wrought it, and silver nailed its<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;doors:<br />
- Earls' wives were the weaving-women, queens' daughters<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;strewed its floors.<br />
- And the masters of its song-craft were the mightiest men<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;that cast<br />
- The sails of the storm of battle adown the bickering blast.<br />
- There dwelt men merry-hearted, and in hope exceeding great<br />
- Met the good days and the evil as they went the way of fate,<br />
- There the gods were unforgotten, yea whiles they walked<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;with men,<br />
- Though e'en in that world's beginning rose a murmur now<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and again<br />
- Of the midward time and the fading and the last of the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;latter days,<br />
- And the entering in of the terror, and the death of the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;People's Praise:<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and the greatness of the poem is manifested
-long before the finding of Brynhild. But up to
-that point there is lacking in the spirit of the
-work as a whole that sense of the inevitable and
-logical cause and effect in the weaving of human
-destiny that gives so marvellous a strength to
-the books called Brynhild and Gudrun.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The plan of the poem seems to me, then, to
-be perfectly wrought, and the treatment of one
-part of it not so instinctively right as that of
-the rest, which is beyond all criticism. As to
-the actual workmanship apart from the design,
-the general examination of Morris's methods
-which has already been made in an earlier
-chapter covers its main characteristics. But
-there are qualities here which were not found in
-<i>Jason</i> or <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>. There was in
-those poems an extraordinary ease and at the
-same time an indication of a titanic strength in
-reserve. In <i>Sigurd</i> this reserve is used, but all
-the ease is, by some superb paradox of artistic
-power, retained. The hewn rocks and the
-cloud-wrack of Iceland, the great thews of Sigurd and
-the might of his god-given sword, the proud
-beauty of the deep-bosomed women who are
-the mates and mothers of fierce and terrible
-kings, all these things are sung with a vigour as
-tremendous as is their own, and yet there is not
-a strained moment or an uncontrolled turn of
-expression from beginning to end. And, save
-in places where the substance of the story itself
-momentarily excludes it, there is always beauty
-in the strength. Again we have but to read
-a page or two into the poem to find an example.
-Sensuous beauty and fiery strength could not
-well be more perfectly blended than in this
-description of the Volsung throne under the
-Branstock:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So there was the throne of Volsung beneath its blossoming<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;bower,<br />
- But high o'er the roof-crest red it rose 'twixt tower and<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;tower;<br />
- And therein were the wild hawks dwelling, abiding the dole<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of their lord,<br />
- And they wailed high over the wine, and laughed to the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;waking sword.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And again, when Sigurd is singing in the
-Niblung hall:&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- But his song and his fond desire go up to the cloudy roof,<br />
- And blend with the eagles' shrilling in the windy night aloof.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-It is at the end of the book of Regin that
-Sigurd finds Brynhild asleep
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;on the tower-top of the world,<br />
- High over the cloud-wrought castle whence the windy bolts<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;are hurled;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and from the moment he awakens her new light
-and life break into the narrative. Not only in
-their troth-plighting is a new note of human
-passion struck, but the Volsung spirit in Sigurd
-undergoes a change and takes on a larger charity
-and a more beneficent purpose.
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So the day grew old about them and the joy of their desire,<br />
- And eve and the sunset came, and faint grew the sunset fire,<br />
- And the shadowless death of the day, was sweet in the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;golden tide;<br />
- But the stars shone forth on the world and the twilight<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;changed and died;<br />
- And sure if the first of man-folk had been born to that<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;starry night,<br />
- And had heard no tale of the sunrise, he had never longed<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;for the light:<br />
- But Earth longed amidst her slumber, as 'neath the night<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;she lay,<br />
- And fresh and all abundant abode the deeds of Day.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And these abundant deeds of day are deeds of
-peace and healing. Sigurd among Hemir and
-his 'Lymdale forest lords' brings the dawn of
-a new age, when
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- The axe-age and the sword-age seem dead a while ago,<br />
- And the age of the cleaving of shields, of brother by<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;brother slain,<br />
- And the bitter days of the whoredom, and the hardened lust<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of gain;<br />
- But man to man may hearken, and he that soweth reaps,<br />
- And hushed is the heart of Feurir in the wolf-den of the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;deeps...<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and again, when he rides to the Niblungs it is
-with peace and comfortable words upon his
-lips&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- For peace I bear unto thee, and to all the kings of earth<br />
- Who bear the sword aright, and are crowned with the crown<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of worth;<br />
- But unpeace to the lords of evil, and the battle and the death;<br />
- And the edge of the sword to the traitor, and the flame to<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the slanderous breath:<br />
- And I would that the loving were loved, and I would that the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;weary should sleep,<br />
- And that man should hearken to man, and that he that<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;soweth should reap.<br />
- Now wide in the world I fare, to seek the dwellings of kings,<br />
- For with them would I do and undo, and be heart of their<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;warfarings;<br />
- So I thank thee, lord, for thy bidding, and here in thy house<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;will I bide,<br />
- And learn of thy ancient wisdom till forth to the field we ride.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-It is in this mellowing of the fierce Volsung
-strain that the redemption of the cosmic spirit
-of the epic is found. To show this is a purpose
-not less noble than that of Milton when he
-robed himself to justify the ways of God to
-man, and it is one which must be clearly understood
-before we can hope to grasp the imaginative
-impulse that runs as a central thread through
-all the coloured jewels of Morris's masterpiece.
-This new chastening of the humanity in Sigurd
-not only makes the life among which he moves
-sweeter, but it reacts upon the most tragic
-judgments of the gods. Nothing could be finer than
-the way in which we are shown the ennobling
-influence that it has upon so terrible an event as
-the betrayal of Sigurd by the Niblung Gunnar
-and his brothers. It is an act of the blackest
-treachery, a violation of sacred vows sworn
-under the roof-tree of their home, an act which
-in the world of Sigmund would have been
-merely horrible. But here it is transfigured by
-the elemental humanity working along the logical
-ways of cause and effect in the heart of Sigurd
-and from him into the action of his betrayers,
-into pure tragedy. Before this quickening,
-enmity between man and man was a sullen and
-savage thing, some blinding of their eyes by the
-hands of mocking gods, but now it springs from
-the clear conflict of essential emotions and it
-has in it a new element of pity. Gunnar knows
-that the ravelled web can be straightened only
-in this way, but there is no loveless exultation
-in his mood, and in after days he cherishes the
-great memory of the man whom he has slain.
-And Sigurd knows of the coming end, but there
-is no hatred in him&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the heart of Hogin he sees,<br />
- And the heart of his brother Gunnar, <i>and he grieveth sore for<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;these</i>.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-In detail Morris discovers a wealth of
-inventiveness that appears to be inexhaustible.
-He never allows his beauty of expression to be
-isolated in such a way as to interfere with the
-swiftness of narration, but there are many more
-instances of separable splendours in <i>Sigurd</i> than
-in any other of his poems. When Sigurd tells
-King Elf, his stepfather, that he would go out
-into the world, the King answers&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Forsooth no more may we hold thee than the hazel copse<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;may hold<br />
- The sun of the early dawning, that turneth it all into gold.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And how exquisite is this of Gudrun's beauty&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- And her face is a rose of the morning by the night-tide<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;framed about.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and how perfect in imagination this of the
-Volsung King's sword&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Therewith from the belt of battle he raised the golden sheath,<br />
- And showed the peace-strings glittering around the hidden death.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and there is surely no more lovely description in
-poetry than this&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So the hall dusk deepens upon them till the candles come arow,<br />
- And they drink the wine of departing and gird themselves to go;<br />
- And they dight the dark-blue raiment and climb to the wains aloft<br />
- While the horned moon hangs in the heaven and the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;summer wind blows soft.<br />
- Then the yoke-beasts strained at the collar, and the dust<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;in the moon arose,<br />
- And they brushed the side of the acre and the blooming dewy close;<br />
- Till at last, when the moon was sinking and the night was<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;waxen late,<br />
- The warders of the earl-folk looked forth from the Niblung gate<br />
- And saw the gold pale-gleaming, and heard the wain-wheels crush<br />
- The weary dust of the summer amidst the midnight hush.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-In <i>Sigurd</i>, too, Morris's power of investing
-his language with the utmost dramatic
-compression at exactly the right moment is
-developed to its highest point. One example may
-be given. Regin means to use Sigurd for his
-own ends&mdash;to make him secure the treasure of
-Fafnir. But Sigurd as yet has no will for
-action&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- the wary foot is surest, and the hasty oft turns back.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Then the craft of Regin is concentrated into
-six lines&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The deed is ready to hand,<br />
- Yet holding my peace is the best, for well thou lovest the land:<br />
- And thou lovest thy life moreover, and the peace of thy<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;youthful days,<br />
- And why should the full-fed feaster his hand to the rye-bread raise?<br />
- Yet they say that Sigmund begat thee and he looked to fashion a man.<br />
- Fear nought; he lieth quiet in his mound by the sea-waves wan.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and Sigurd cries back&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Tell me, thou Master of Masters, what deed is the deed I<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;shall do?<br />
- Nor mock thou the son of Sigmund lest the day of his<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;birth thou rue.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-In the treatment of the poem throughout,
-however, the quality that is predominant may
-be most fittingly described as magnificence of
-imagination. This is, of course, a thing quite
-distinct from mere magnificence of phrase.
-Not only is the utterance splendid, but the
-thing uttered and the thing suggested are
-splendid too. The voices are indeed tremendous, but
-that is because they are the voices of
-tremendous people. We feel always that we are
-moving among a humanity not in any way
-idealized, but framed in the proportions of
-giants, purged of everything inessential and
-tautened in all its sinews. And when the
-spirits of these people are drawn up to some
-unwonted height of emotional intensity the
-result is a cry from a world the knowledge of
-which moves us to a heroic hope for our race.
-The grief of Gudrun over Sigurd dead, with
-the wonderful refrain interwoven by the
-narrator, is a grief that in itself is a triumph
-over any blows that destiny can inflict. Once
-man can sorrow in this fashion, we feel he has
-conquered his fate. And the death-song of
-Gunnar is yet more magnificent. The poet who
-wrote that wonderful chant of man in the face
-of death has fathomed the very depths of
-song-craft. Readers who know Morris's poetry will
-forgive me for taking them through these lines
-once again&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So perished the Gap of the Gaping, and the cold sea<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;swayed and sang,<br />
- And the wind came down on the waters, and the beaten<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;rock-walls rang;<br />
- There the Sun from the south came shining, and the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Starry Host stood round,<br />
- And the wandering Moon of the heavens his habitation<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;found;<br />
- And they knew not why they were gathered, nor the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;deeds of their shaping they knew:<br />
- But lo, Mid-Earth the Noble 'neath their might and their<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;glory grew,<br />
- And the grass spread over its face, and the Night and the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Day were born,<br />
- And it cried on the Death in the even, and it cried on the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Life in the morn;<br />
- Yet it waxed and waxed, and knew not, and it lived and<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;had not learned;<br />
- And where were the Framers that framed, and the Soul<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and the Might that had yearned?<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- On the Thrones are the Powers that fashioned, and they<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;name the Night and the Day,<br />
- And the tide of the Moon's increasing, and the tide of his<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;waning away;<br />
- And they name the years for the story; and the Lands<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;they change and change,<br />
- The great and the mean and the little, that this unto that<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;may be strange:<br />
- They met, and they fashioned dwellings, and the House<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of Glory they built;<br />
- They met, and they fashioned the Dwarf-kind, and the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Gold and the Gifts and the Guilt.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- There were twain, and they went upon earth, and were<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;speechless unmighty and wan;<br />
- They were hopeless, deathless, lifeless, and the Mighty<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;named them Man;<br />
- Then they gave them speech and power, and they gave<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;them colour and breath;<br />
- And deeds and the hope they gave them, and they gave<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;them Life and Death;<br />
- Yea, hope, as the hope of the Framers; yea, might, as the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fashioners had,<br />
- Till they wrought, and rejoiced in their bodies, and saw<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;their sons and were glad:<br />
- And they changed their lives and departed, and came back<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;as the leaves of the trees<br />
- Come back and increase in the summer:&mdash;and I, I, I am<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;of these;<br />
- And I know of Them that have fashioned, and the deeds<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;that have blossomed and grow;<br />
- But nought of the God's repentance, or the God's undoing<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I know.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-No more striking example of the meaning of
-personality in poetry could well be found than
-in a comparison between this song and the
-famous second chorus of Swinburne's "Atalanta
-in Calydon," which had been published ten
-years earlier. Superficially there is a kinship
-both of substance and music, but superficially
-only. A moderately sensitive ear will immediately
-catch the difference in the swell of the
-lines, and the substance is alike just as a
-landscape of Turner is like one of Corot's&mdash;they are
-both landscapes.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The imaginative and moral atmosphere of
-Sigurd is that of the northern peoples. The
-figures of the story are giants and move along
-their lives as such, but there is always behind
-them the mute shadow of a yet greater immensity,
-the fate that reveals itself through no
-oracles. At the moments of their most glorious
-victories and sweetest attainment, these men and
-women, Sigurd and Gunnar and Brynhild and
-Gudrun and their fellows, are more or less
-consciously in the presence of the end that
-makes neither presage nor promise. The hope
-of Valhall is in reality no more than sublime
-courage. Morris himself, in a letter written at
-the time when he was going through the Sagas,
-said 'what a glorious outcome of the worship
-of Courage these stories are.' This is, finally,
-the supreme gift of the northern race to the
-world, and it is embodied for us for ever in the
-song of <i>Sigurd the Volsung</i>; not unquestioning
-acceptance, not the cheerful strength of
-faith, not mere indifference begotten of the
-delights of the immediate moment, but a deep
-sense of the mystery that may or may not be
-beneficent in its design, and in the face of all an
-invulnerable Courage.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap06"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-VI
-<br /><br />
-TRANSLATIONS AND SOCIALISM
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-The completion of <i>Sigurd the Volsung</i> may
-conveniently be treated as a half-way house in
-Morris's career. The poet had fully proved
-himself. The lovely morning song of <i>Guenevere</i>,
-a little uncertain both in its own expression of
-life and in the direction along which it pointed
-the singer's development, but nevertheless clearly
-the promise of some memorable doings in the
-world of poetry, had matured through the
-simple clarity and joyousness of <i>Jason</i> and <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i> into this fierce and elemental
-strength, corrected as it were from step to step
-by the practical experience of the poet's daily
-life. At the beginning of the translation of the
-Völsunga Saga he had written&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So draw ye round and hearken, English Folk,<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Unto the best tale pity ever wrought&mdash;<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and now he had fashioned that tale anew into
-its greatest presentment, raising its spirit into
-an expression worthy to rank with the supreme
-masterpieces of the world. His creativeness as
-poet had not exhausted itself, but it had achieved
-its most urgent purpose; it had evolved a life
-which the poet's imaginative longing told him
-might yet be realized on earth. From this time
-the business of setting the crooked straight
-among the affairs of his day began to absorb his
-attention and energy, and in the outcome he
-published but one more book of poems, which
-will be considered later. In 1875 he had printed
-his verse translation of <i>The Aeneids of Virgil</i>,
-about which, as was inevitable, the opinion of
-classical scholars was, and remains, divided.
-There is a quality in poetry which is finally
-untranslatable from one language to another, the
-quality that is knit into the words themselves.
-The ecstasy of which I have spoken is capable
-of a thousand shades of spiritual colour, and
-when a poet is moved by it he is moved by it in
-a kind that can never be precisely repeated,
-either in himself or another. The translator as
-a rule gives us the substance and loses this
-other quality altogether; the most that we can
-hope for is that he may be a poet himself, and,
-retaining the substance, substitute an ecstasy of
-his own which shall in some measure compensate
-for the loss of the particular exaltation of the
-original. This Morris does; reading his
-translation we may&mdash;indeed must&mdash;miss some essential
-Virgilian quality, but we have the great story
-faithfully told, and we have poetry. We may
-continue to ask for more than that, but we shall
-continue to be denied. This translation was
-followed by <i>The Odyssey</i> in 1887 and <i>Beowulf</i>
-in 1895.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The growth of Morris's socialism can fortunately
-be traced without divergence into chronological
-data. Of its nature we have already
-seen something in considering his poetry, but in
-<i>A Dream of John Ball</i> and <i>News from Nowhere</i>
-he defined it in detail, not only in its imaginative
-but also in its practical aspect. Before turning
-to these it will be well briefly to outline his
-movements in the later years of his life. The
-business of Morris and Company had already
-passed into his own hands, not without some
-difficulty&mdash;though without friction&mdash;in closing
-the partnership arrangements. This really
-meant but little added labour, as he had in effect
-been responsible for its control almost since its
-commencement. In 1877 he was asked whether
-he would accept the Professorship of Poetry at
-Oxford in the event of its being offered to him,
-and declined emphatically though graciously
-enough. In the next year he moved to the
-house on the Mall at Hammersmith to which
-was attached the lecture room where the early
-meetings of the Hammersmith Socialists were
-held, and his active propagandist work had
-begun. In addition to constant meetings and
-lectures on socialism and art, the conduct of his
-paper <i>The Commonweal</i>, and his own business
-affairs, he undertook any work that came to his
-hand for the furtherance of his fixed ideal.
-Among other things he was one of the founders
-and the first secretary of the Society for the
-Preservation of Ancient Buildings, and finally
-he linked to his name the brief but noble career
-of the Kelmscott Press. He died on the 3rd of
-October, 1896, at the age of sixty-three, and
-was buried in the churchyard at Kelmscott,
-wearied out but not embittered by the strife of
-his later years and the insults of people who
-could only feel the vigour of his blows without
-understanding the cause in which they were struck.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<i>A Dream of John Ball</i> was published in
-1888. In it Morris gives once again a picture of
-that life lived in close contact with earth which
-he so earnestly desired, but it is not the complete
-life of <i>The Earthly Paradise</i> or <i>News from
-Nowhere</i>. The people are not yet free, although
-they have not yet fallen to the indifference to
-freedom that Morris looked upon as the most
-distressing manifestation of his own day.
-Together with this picture we have a long
-discussion between John Ball, the people's priest,
-and the dreamer&mdash;Morris himself&mdash;as to the
-result of the risings that are then taking shape,
-and the future of civilization. The hope that
-the priest cries out to the people from the village
-cross becomes in turn the hope of Morris for his
-own generation, and slowly, in the talk that
-follows, the dreamer outlines the whole cause
-and effect of the evil that is analysed much more
-closely in <i>News from Nowhere</i>; the age of
-commercial tyranny that shall come will be strong
-in its days because the slaves will nurse the hope
-that they themselves may rise to the seats of the
-tyrants in turn&mdash;'and this shall be the very
-safeguard of all rule and law in those days.' John
-Ball speaks with the voice of Morris. When
-he was in prison he&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'lay there a-longing for the green fields and the
-white-thorn bushes and the lark singing over the
-corn, and the talk of good fellows round the
-ale-house bench, and the babble of the little children,
-and the team on the road and the beasts afield, and
-all the life of earth.'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The book need not be considered in detail in
-connection with Morris's socialism, for it is but
-a suggestion, whilst <i>News from Nowhere</i> is an
-elaborate statement. But it contains certain
-words that were very close to Morris's heart.
-The recognition, for example, that humanity
-cannot reach the simplicity that he conceived to
-be its finest end without much thought and
-careful fostering, or in other words that this
-simplicity was not the product of barbarism but
-of a highly perfected state of evolution, finds
-expression in the frank acceptance by this
-clear-headed and high-hearted priest of the value of
-his companion's scholarship. In this book, as
-always, Morris kept his work definitely in the
-region of imaginative art. Not only is the
-descriptive writing vivid and full of beauty, but
-he retains throughout the full power of literary
-illusion. This is very strikingly shown in the
-pages where the priest questions the dreamer as
-to what will be the end of that distant day of
-oppression of which they are speaking. Will
-a new and clear day break on us? As we read
-through to the answer we become deeply
-concerned as to what it will be, as though we were
-listening indeed to one speaking with authority;
-and when we find that it is one of hopefulness
-and courage we feel strangely and splendidly
-reassured. We know again that the finest
-persuasiveness is that of art.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<i>News from Nowhere</i> appeared in America in
-1890 and in England in 1891. It has been,
-perhaps, the most popular of all Morris's writings,
-but curiously under-estimated by his critics both
-as a practical enunciation of his social creed and
-as an embodiment of his social vision. The
-scheme of the book is very simple. The
-narrator&mdash;Morris again, of course&mdash;goes to bed one
-winter night at his Hammersmith house. He
-wakes to a fresh June morning in an altered
-world. The life of this world, the new
-communism somewhere in the twenty-second
-century, he describes at length, and weaves into it
-a long conversation with one of its old men
-which traces the course by which it has grown
-from the nineteenth century and defines the
-errors which it has cancelled. The constitution
-of this life may be assailable at certain points, and
-some of the steps by which it has been
-reached&mdash;the armed revolution for instance&mdash;may be
-arbitrary in conception, but these things are of
-no moment. The important fact is that Morris's
-indictment of our contemporary social system
-is perfectly logical at every point, and that
-the new life that he creates is complete in its
-humanity and not that of a misty world of
-dreams. Of its prophetic value it is impossible
-to speak; as to that we can decide in our
-imagination alone. But to suggest that the
-book is not consistently conscious of the true
-nature of our social defects on its negative side,
-and on its positive side fiercely alive to the real
-meaning of life, is merely to misunderstand it
-and its subject. Some examination on both
-these sides is necessary in support of this
-statement, and its negative or destructive teaching is
-to be considered first.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Men should have joy in the work of their
-hands, and they had none. That, in Morris's
-view, was the fundamental evil to be cured, and
-he seeks at the outset to discover its cause.
-Says Hammond, who acts as spokesman for the
-new people&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Go and have a look at the sheep-walks high up
-the slopes between Ingleborough and Pen-y-gwent
-and tell me if you think we waste the land there by
-not covering it with factories for making things that
-nobody wants, which was the chief business of the
-nineteenth century!'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-This state was the product, he continues, of 'a
-most elaborate system of buying and selling,
-which has been called the World-Market; and
-that World-Market, once set a-going, forced
-them to go on making more and more of these
-wares, whether they needed them or not.' The
-result was, of course, that the system became
-master of the work, and the work itself ceased to
-have any significance, and 'under this horrible
-burden of unnecessary production it became
-impossible for them to look upon labour and its
-results from any other point of view than one&mdash;to
-wit, the ceaseless endeavour to expend the least
-possible amount of labour on any made, and yet
-at the same time to make as many articles as
-possible.' Anybody who has had the smallest
-experience of commerce knows that this is
-precisely the vicious circle into which we have been
-caught. And with this Morris sets out clearly
-the fact that the support of this state is to the
-interest solely of the men who have the power to
-control labour and not that of the labour itself,
-but that the workers have on the one hand, as
-he says in the passage quoted from <i>A Dream of
-John Ball</i>, a hope that they too may become
-masters and tyrannize in turn, and, on the other
-hand, the long habit of drawing wages from
-these controllers has imbued them with a dull
-belief that they are in reality dependent not on
-their own work but upon some indefinable source
-of wealth set up above them. Then, again, this
-system of class privilege has behind it the power
-of a government that, though mainly ineffective
-in itself, yet controls a further system of right by
-might&mdash;the Law Courts and police and military,
-all of which things, with a fine show of judicial
-balance, can be and are employed not to develop
-society but to uphold establishments, the chief
-of which is this very privilege and inequality.
-So that by an elaborate structure of oppression
-which is necessary to the maintenance of the
-position of the few, the people are quite
-effectually prevented from bringing any spiritual
-discipline into their work, and are so deprived of
-the most abiding happiness that life has to offer.
-That briefly is the central significance of Morris's
-social proposition. The practical means of
-deliverance is a matter upon which no two people
-are likely to agree, and the method suggested by
-Morris need not be discussed, because it does not
-really affect the general question. But it
-cannot well be denied that his view of the evil is a
-sound one, and that deliverance in one way or
-another is a possibility by which alone
-contemplation of the evil is made tolerable.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The constructive aspect of the book not only
-shows the life for which Morris hoped, but
-answers many of the objections made by
-reaction to socialism in any shape. 'I have been
-told,' says the stranger, 'that political strife was
-a necessary result of human nature.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Human nature!' cried the old boy impetuously;
-'what human nature?' The human nature of
-paupers, of slaves, of slave-holders, or the human
-nature of wealthy freemen? Which? Come, tell me
-that!
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And then again&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Now, this is what I want to ask you about, to
-wit, how you get people to work when there is no
-reward of labour, and especially how you get them to
-work strenuously?'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'No reward of labour?' said Hammond, gravely,
-'the reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'But no reward for especially good work,' quoth I.
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Plenty of reward,' said he, 'the reward of
-creation. The wages which God gets, as people might
-have said time agone. If you are going to ask to be
-paid for the pleasure of creation, which is what
-excellence in work means, the next thing we shall
-hear of will be a bill sent in for the begetting of
-children.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Well, but,' said I, 'the man of the nineteenth
-century would say there is a natural desire toward the
-procreation of children, and a natural desire not to
-work.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'Yes, yes,' said he, 'I know the ancient platitude;
-wholly untrue; indeed, to us quite meaningless.'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-That is very simple, and yet it shows the
-profoundest insight into the essential nature of
-humanity. Nothing is sadder or more ludicrous
-than to hear people say that they turn to the
-degraded sensationalism that passes for life in
-daily report because of their interest in human
-nature. The enervating influence of this
-perversion of life upon much of our finest artistic
-genius has been mentioned. Morris was not
-much given to criticizing contemporary
-literature in his writing, but he makes one of the
-people in his new world say of certain books of
-the late nineteenth century&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'But I say flatly that in spite of all their cleverness
-and vigour, and capacity for story telling, there is
-something loathsome about them. Some of them,
-indeed, do here and there show some feeling for those
-whom the history-books call 'poor,' and of the misery
-of whose lives we have some inkling; but presently
-they give it up, and towards the end of the story we
-must be contented to see the hero and heroine living
-in an island of bliss on other people's troubles; and
-that after a long series of sham troubles (or mostly
-sham) of their own making, illustrated by dreary
-introspective nonsense about their feelings and
-aspirations, and all the rest of it.'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-That was written before the new day of John
-Galsworthy and John Masefield, and even then
-Morris would have been the first to make many
-honourable exclusions from his charge. But
-the charge itself was founded on deep
-understanding.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the life to which the revolt against this
-sham life has led in <i>News from Nowhere</i> the
-radical change is, of course, that all this misuse
-of work has been abolished. People no longer
-make unnecessary things and so find time to
-make the necessary things well. And the very
-act of doing this has brought a strange new
-exultation into their lives, and once again human
-nature has come into its own unbridled expression.
-They still have their troubles, their
-love-quarrels, 'the folly which comes by nature,
-the unwisdom of the immature man, or the
-older men caught in a trap,' the anxiety of the
-mother as to her children&mdash;'they may indeed
-turn out better or worse; they may disappoint
-her highest hopes; such anxieties as these are a
-part of the mingled pleasure and pain which goes
-to make up the life of mankind,'&mdash;but they are
-free of the cares of a time when the aim of
-men's work was to come uppermost in competition
-and not to make the work its own joy and
-reward. The men and women still have their
-difficult sex problems to solve, but they do not
-complicate them by wilful neglect of obvious
-facts; they recognize for instance that a man or
-a woman may love quite genuinely and tire and
-even love again as at first, and if a match does
-not turn out well, they break it and shake off the
-grief 'in a way which perhaps the sentimentalists
-of other times would think contemptible and
-unheroic, but which we think necessary and
-manlike.' Their acceptance of these natural
-facts does not mean that they live in a state
-of disorganized and capricious relationship.
-Faithful love is a common enough condition
-among them, but they are not unwise enough to
-suppose that when it is not present its place can
-be satisfactorily and wholesomely taken by an
-artificial pretence. Finding this joy in the work
-of their hands, and seeing no end to work other
-than that joy, they have lost all jealousy of the
-work of their fellows, and every man is
-encouraged to the best that is in him by common
-consent and approval. Infinite variety has
-taken the place of monotony, and one man's
-pleasure in another's achievement the place of
-fear that it may mean loss to himself. Hammond
-can say&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-We live amidst beauty without fear of becoming
-effeminate, ... we have plenty to do, and on the
-whole enjoy doing it. What more can we ask of life?
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-What indeed? It must be remembered that
-he says 'we.' The delight is complete only
-because it is common to all.
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'In time past, indeed, men were told to love their
-kind, to believe in the religion of humanity and so
-forth. But look you, just in the degree that a man had
-elevation of mind and refinement enough to be able
-to value this idea was he repelled by the obvious
-aspect of the individuals composing the mass which
-he was to worship; and he could only evade that
-repulsion by making a conventional abstraction of
-mankind that had little actual or historical relation
-to the race, which to his eyes was divided into blind
-tyrants on the one hand and apathetic degraded slaves
-on the other. But now, where is the difficulty in
-accepting the religion of humanity, when the men
-and women who go to make up humanity are free,
-happy, and energetic at least, and most commonly
-beautiful of body also, and surrounded by beautiful
-things of their own fashioning, and a nature bettered
-and not worsened by contact with mankind?'
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-That was Morris's clear conviction as to the
-whole question, and the word that he uses to
-describe the new meaning of work&mdash;that is the
-remedy of all the social evils against which he
-was in revolt&mdash;is art.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-This, then, was the creed and the hope that
-Morris set out in detail in <i>News from Nowhere</i>.
-That the dream was farther from realization
-than he thought may be the unhappy truth, but
-of this at least we are sure, that he dreamt a
-good thing. The picture that he shows us is of
-healthy, aspiring, joyous men and women, full of
-sweet humour and clean passion, who, far from
-having lost all incentive to endeavour, have
-found a new and tremendous cause for endeavour
-in every hour of the day. For them work and
-worship have become one, and of the union has
-come life. The prose that Morris uses is beautiful
-because perfectly adapted to its purpose. In
-the practical discussions on particular questions
-the style is swift and incisive; in the descriptions
-of the life of his new world it is coloured by all
-his tenderness and love for men and natural
-beauty. 'The earth and the growth and the
-life of it! If I could but say or show how I
-love it!' It is a cry always ready upon his lips.
-And he brings to his work here, too, a charming
-and whimsical humour. The little sketch of
-that wonderful person the Golden Dustman is a
-master-stroke of genuinely human comedy. And
-the humour may be leavened with admirable
-satire; he has in his mind a certain day in
-Trafalgar Square, when 'unarmed and peaceable
-people were attacked by ruffians armed with
-bludgeons.' 'And they put up with that?' says
-Dick&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'We <i>had</i> to put up with it; we couldn't help it.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-The old man looked at me keenly and said: 'You
-seem to know a great deal about it, neighbour! And
-is it really true that nothing came of it?'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'This came of it,' said I, 'that a good many people
-were sent to prison because of it.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'What, of the bludgeoners?' said the old man.
-'Poor devils!'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-'No, no,' said I, 'of the bludgeoned.'
-</p>
-
-<p class="quote">
-Said the old man rather severely: 'Friend, I expect
-that you have been reading some rotten collection of
-lies, and have been taken in by it too easily.'
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The book has been described, quite aptly, as
-insular. In its atmosphere and colour it is
-essentially English. The accounts of a
-reconstructed London and a cleansed countryside,
-of the great Thames reaches and the stone
-buildings of the Cotswolds, of the happy and
-generous but rather silent folk, of their traditions
-and customs and their characteristics, are all
-written by an Englishman of Englishmen and
-their country. Their natures have not been
-fundamentally changed, but stripped of the
-excrescences of an effete and degraded society, and
-they are still drawn in their proper relation to
-their native landscape. They are the clearly
-wrought ideal of our race, but they have left
-in them nothing of those products of our race
-who consistently confuse expediency with ethical
-fitness, sentimentalism with passion, and celebrate
-the planting of the British flag in all sorts
-of places where it is not in the least wanted by
-calling themselves God's Englishmen.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap07"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-VII
-<br /><br />
-PROSE ROMANCES AND POEMS BY THE WAY
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-During the later years of his life, when he was
-distracted by the many claims of his active
-socialism and constantly harassed by details of
-organization and the efforts to reconcile people
-who, having the same interests, persisted in
-misunderstanding each other, Morris wrote a
-series of prose romances that hold a distinctive
-place in his art. His long poems show us a
-life conceived on lines that I have sought to
-trace, approached in a mood of austere
-responsibility and defined with all the completeness
-that he could bring to work. In these prose
-romances the life is unchanged, but it is seen
-through a different mood. It is as though he
-turned aside from the stress of his daily work
-to the world that his imagination had already
-created as the only sane one for men, and saw
-it with a kind of new leisureliness and
-wholesome irresponsibility. It was impossible for
-him to allow fancy to intrude upon the life that
-he desired to the exclusion of any of its vital
-qualities, but, as far as was possible without
-such offence to his artistic conscience, in these
-romances he indulged his faculty for story-telling
-without curb. The people and their
-adventures and characters are still, as in the
-poems, related continuously to Morris's radical
-conception of life, but they are no longer related
-to any central purpose contained in the work of
-art itself. The waywardness and profuseness
-of romanticism are here carried to their extreme
-limits, and yet we never feel that the narratives
-are formless, so powerful and fixed is the vision
-through which Morris draws them into unity.
-The justification of his indifference to the
-ordinary demands of construction in a book like
-<i>The Roots of the Mountains</i>, is that we do not
-feel that the work would gain in any way were
-he scrupulously careful in this matter. Morris
-had created a world in his imagination, just and
-beautiful as it seemed to him. From that world
-he drew the substance of his great poems,
-reducing it to the essential and symbolic terms
-of art. <i>Jason</i> and <i>The Earthly Paradise</i> and
-<i>Sigurd</i> are all perfectly constructed results of
-the submission of this world to the severe process
-of artistic selection. But in the later prose
-romances we are led into the very world itself
-from which these things were drawn, and given
-leave to wander through it as we will. We
-find that it is cosmic as life is cosmic, but it is
-not yet wrought into the stricter proportions of
-art. If we can think of Morris writing through
-another generation, it is impossible to believe
-that he would have turned again, say, to the
-Volsung story; that he had shaped finally in
-<i>Sigurd the Volsung</i>; but we feel that he might
-have found material in these romances for poem
-after poem, that, indeed, they are, as it were, a
-panoramic expression of the world from which
-his poems must inevitably be imagined. There
-is in them nothing of inconsistency, but there is
-a prodigal diffuseness that belongs rather to
-nature than to art. They are the storehouse
-from which Morris's own art was drawn, and
-poets to come may yet turn to them as they
-do to Malory or as Morris himself did to the
-Sagas.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The choice of prose for these romances was,
-for this reason, not in any way arbitrary but the
-result of sound artistic deliberation. Where
-Morris used the same material and crystallized
-it through his finest imaginative impulse, verse
-was the natural and inevitable medium; but he
-is here showing us the material before it had
-been subjected to this highest creative energy,
-and there is not the spiritual fusion that makes
-verse necessary to complete expression. The
-prose that he uses is stamped always with his
-personality, and so justifies itself even where
-most open to criticism. It is commonly of
-extraordinary beauty, full of the gravity and
-high manners that belong to the heroic
-atmosphere of the stories themselves; and even
-where the adaptation of an archaic method of
-speech is most pronounced it is not self-conscious.
-All language is dependent largely on
-convention, and that Morris used a convention
-that was not generally accepted was a virtue in
-workmanship rather than a vice. The important
-thing is that he was consistent in the
-use, or, in other words, that his convention was
-never a mannerism but definitely a corporate
-part of his style.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-These stories are but another instance of the
-remarkable range of Morris's artistic power.
-They do not, of course, rank with his own most
-splendid work, but in a particular kind of prose
-romance they attain an excellence that had not
-been known in England for several centuries.
-And in the ease with which they hold our
-interest in the story and at the same time
-maintain a perfect consistency of character, they
-show that, had he chosen, Morris might have
-added yet another to his many achievements,
-and challenged comparison with the best of
-Fielding's successors. The Bride and the
-Sunbeam, Face-of-God and Walter and Folk-Might,
-and, above all, Dallach, are drawn with that
-certainty and depth of understanding of the
-individual that are perhaps the chief distinction
-of the youngest of the literary arts in
-England.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In 1891 Morris's last book of poems, <i>Poems
-By The Way</i>, was published by the Kelmscott
-Press. In it the poet gathered together some
-fifty of his shorter poems written at intervals
-during the thirty years since the publication of
-<i>The Defence of Guenevere</i>, and there are naturally
-in the volume a wide range of subjects and
-much diversity of manner. Fragments from
-rejected or unfinished tales intended for <i>The
-Earthly Paradise</i>, fine echoes and memories of
-his Icelandic studies and travel, lyrical
-expressions of this mood or that, translations from
-the Flemish and Danish and his beloved saga-tongue,
-fairy tales, chants that grew out of his
-socialism, and a few poems that show that
-when he chose to apply his poetic vision to
-modern conditions he could do so with
-profound penetration, are brought together almost
-at haphazard. If, as Mr. Arthur Symons says,
-a pageant is a shining disorder, then this book
-is truly a pageant. And yet behind all these
-expressions of many times and moods is to be
-seen the central impulse of Morris's life knitting
-them together into a clear spiritual unity. It
-seems a far cry from the delicate tenderness of
-'From the Upland to the Sea' to the passion
-of 'Mother and Son,' from the sombre brooding
-of 'To the Muse of the North' to the airy
-romance of 'Goldilocks and Goldilocks,' yet
-they are all unmistakably begotten of the same
-temperament. The high reverence for naked
-life, the insistence on labour being joyful if it
-was not to be abominable, the fierce worship of
-beauty and the courageous acceptance of its
-passing, these were the things by which Morris
-had his being, and they are woven into all the
-pages of his last book. He was a man who
-took literally no thought as to the relation of
-the work in hand to that of years passed. A
-story is told of him that when a friend who
-was helping him to collect the material for
-<i>Poems By The Way</i> brought a poem to him he
-could not remember having written a line of it.
-The perfect consistency of his aim and temper
-from first to last is the more remarkable in
-consequence, and the kinship between two
-fragmentary expressions of his life, divided perhaps
-by thirty years, is fine to see. His understanding
-of the ideal towards which he strove became
-clearer as he passed through his strenuous
-existence, and his powers of realizing it in his art
-matured steadily to the end, but the ideal itself
-was unchanged. That in an artist is a splendid
-thing: a thing that perhaps of all others is the
-token of his divinity. For it is that central
-certainty of purpose that is immortal in him,
-austerely set above the change of circumstance.
-The form of his art may pass from its first
-imitative and awkward groping slowly to its
-perfection or it may prove itself at the beginning,
-but it is the great guiding purpose that
-he cannot gain by seeking, and that lends truth
-to the common phrase.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Of certain of the poems no more than a word
-need be said, whilst others need to be
-considered more fully. The northern poems, such
-as 'Gunnar's Howe' and 'Of the Wooing of
-Hallbiorn' and those belonging to the <i>Earthly
-Paradise</i> period are beautiful strays from phases
-of the poet's work that have already been
-discussed. Here and there we find a deliberate
-return to an earlier manner, as in 'The Hall
-and the Wood,' written in 1890, where many
-of the devices used in the Guenevere volume
-are again employed and with even greater
-success. Here, for example, is a beautiful
-reminiscence of lines already quoted&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- She stood before him face to face,<br />
- With the sun-beam thwart her hand,<br />
- As on the gold of the Holy Place<br />
- The painted angels stand.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- With many a kiss she closed his eyes;<br />
- She kissed him cheek and chin:<br />
- E'en so in the painted Paradise<br />
- Are Earth's folk welcomed in.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The short lyrics, 'Love's Gleaning Tide,'
-'Spring's Bedfellow,' 'Pain and Time Strive
-Not,' and two or three others, have just that
-intangible beauty that makes lyrical poetry at
-once unforgettable and impossible to discuss in
-any detail. In one of them, 'The Garden by
-the Sea,' which is the lovely song from the
-Hylas episode in <i>Jason</i>, Morris altered three
-lines, not, I think, for the better. The fairy
-poem 'Goldilocks and Goldilocks' is play, but
-the play of a great poet. Then we have the
-charming verses written for tapestries and
-pictures, slight enough and yet struck by
-Morris's unerring instinct into sparks of poetry.
-This of the Vine&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- I draw the blood from out the earth;<br />
- I store the sun for winter mirth.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and this of the Mulberry Tree&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Love's lack hath dyed my berries red:<br />
- For Love's attire my leaves are shed.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-are perfect of their kind. There remain two
-groups, both inspired more or less by the same
-impulse, but differing a good deal in their
-artistic value. The first of these consists of
-poems written directly to embody the
-principles of active socialism that absorbed the
-greater part of his energy in later life; it
-includes 'All for the Cause,' 'The Day is
-Coming,' and 'The Voice of Toil' among
-others. Here again Morris proved his
-incapacity to write verse that was not poetry,
-but he gets nearer to the border-line at times
-in these poems than he does anywhere else in
-his work; he is, however, still well on the right
-side. 'All for the Cause' is a fine direct
-challenge to the workers to assert their own
-lives, but the challenge is made to all that is
-best in their nature, even to the best of that
-nature that the poet hopes will yet be fostered
-in them. 'The Day is Coming' has a strong
-vein of irony in it that looks a little strange
-in Morris's verse, and yet it is admirably
-managed&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- For then, laugh not, but listen to this strange tale of mine,<br />
- All folk that are in England shall be better lodged than swine.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;deeds of his hand,<br />
- Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear<br />
- For to-morrow's lack of earning and the hunger-wolf anear.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- I tell you this for a wonder, that no man shall be glad<br />
- Of his fellow's fall and mishap to snatch at the work he had.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,<br />
- Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- O strange new wonderful justice! But for whom shall we<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;gather the gain?<br />
- For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;labour in vain.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Then all Mine and all Thine shall be Ours, and no more<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;shall any man crave<br />
- For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a<br />
- &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;slave.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-The tremendous sincerity that induced an
-artist so sensitive to the proper uses of his art
-to press it into the service of a cause to which
-he had linked his life is in itself a justification
-of the result. The higher qualities of his
-imagination may be momentarily set aside, but
-the thing is nevertheless afire; it burns with
-conviction. The optimism that disgusts us is
-the optimism that is not in direct relation to
-effort. The sacrifices that Morris was making
-to his socialism in the practical conduct of his
-life were reflected quite clearly in the spirit of
-these poems and quickened it. It is said that
-this poetry was written for the occasion, but it
-must be remembered that the occasion was one
-knit into the very fibre of the poet's being. A
-curious poem which belongs to this group is
-'The God of the Poor,' the first draft of which
-was written about 1870 or earlier. A simple
-story of allegorical cast, telling of the
-overcoming of the oppressor of the people, Maltete,
-by their deliverer Boncoeur, it is interesting as
-showing a definite attitude in the poet's mind
-towards these problems years before he sought
-actively to deal with them.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the second of the groups of which I speak
-are six or seven poems that deal with some
-particular rather than general aspect of life.
-'Hope Dieth: Love Liveth' and 'Error and
-Loss' touch remote, though essential, aspects of
-the psychology of love, if I may use the phrase,
-with a subtlety that was one of Browning's
-peculiar distinctions. The endurance of love
-when everything, even hope, is lost, and the
-pathos of the defeat of love's end by mere
-chance, have never been handled with greater
-poignancy and insight. 'Of The Three Seekers'
-lacks this depth of vision, and states rather than
-convinces, though there is that habitual simplicity
-of Morris in the statement that gives it its
-own value. In 'Drawing Near the Light' we
-have lyrical expression of a universal mood
-drawn into contact with a particular state. It
-may be quoted in full&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Lo, when we wade the tangled wood,<br />
- In haste and hurry to be there,<br />
- Nought seem its leaves and blossoms good,<br />
- For all that they be fashioned fair.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- But looking up, at last we see<br />
- The glimmer of the open light,<br />
- From o'er the place where we would be:<br />
- Then grow the very brambles bright.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- So now, amidst our day of strife,<br />
- With many a matter glad we play,<br />
- When once we see the light of life<br />
- Gleam through the tangle of to-day.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-There is here a suggestion of the application
-of Morris's whole poetic vision to the concrete
-affairs of his socialism that found its supreme
-achievement in the three magnificent poems,
-'The Message of the March Wind,' 'Mother
-and Son' and 'The Half of Life Gone.' In
-these poems the contemplation of life amid the
-conflicting currents that spring from a particular
-phase in the evolution of civilization rather than
-from the fundamental sources of humanity is
-lifted into the highest regions of poetry. They
-stand apart from, though not above, the rest
-of Morris's work, and are indirectly an emphatic
-vindication of his general method. What that
-method was we have examined already, but in
-these poems he gave final proof that if he chose
-to bring his art into superficial and obvious
-relation with the localized conditions of his time
-he could do so as admirably as any man. That
-with the consciousness of this power in himself
-he deliberately chose the other method in the
-great mass of his work is the reply to his critics
-who suggest that he turned away from his own
-time in his art because he was not stirred to
-any real imaginative understanding of it.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-'The Message of the March Wind' is the
-complete expression of the central tenet of his
-socialistic creed. The poet&mdash;or the speaker&mdash;is
-keenly responsive to the things that Morris held
-to be alone of worth in life. He is among the
-green beauty of earth in the springtide; the
-woman he loves with him. They have wandered
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- From township to township, o'er down and by village,<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-and now they stand in the twilight, looking
-down the white road before them, where
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about;<br />
- The moon's rim is rising, a star glitters o'er us,<br />
- And the vane on the spire-top is swinging in doubt.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-They are in the full content of their love and
-the sweetness of the earth, and then&mdash;
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Hark, the wind in the elm-boughs! from London it bloweth,<br />
- And telleth of gold, of hope and unrest:<br />
- Of power that helps not; of wisdom that knoweth,<br />
- But teacheth not aught of the worst and the best.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The contrast is thus imagined, and leads the
-poet into a direct statement of his understanding
-of the whole problem. He never flattered the
-people for whom he was working into the belief
-that the great unleavened majority had the
-wisdom of the world on its side. His rejection
-of that idea was as emphatic as Ibsen's. What
-he sought was to make them realize the fact
-themselves. He did not tell them that they
-were fitted for the great simple joys of life,
-but that they had the right to be so fitted,
-and that it was in themselves alone to assert
-that right. His aim was to make them
-discontented with themselves and the ugliness of
-their own lives, knowing that once this was
-done the rest would inevitably follow. And
-he realized, on the other hand, that the life
-which he worshipped was made impossible and
-all its virtue destroyed simply by the surroundings
-that by some obscure process of evil had
-established themselves on earth. The happiness
-of the speaker and his lover in this fresh beauty
-of the spring twilight was the outcome not of
-any inherent virtue of their own, but of the
-mere chance of their escape from this disease
-of circumstance.
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- Hark! the March wind again of a people is telling:<br />
- Of the life that they live there, so haggard and grim,<br />
- That if we and our love amidst them had been dwelling<br />
- My fondness had faltered, thy beauty grown dim.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-The poem takes up, with exquisite tenderness,
-the hope that these people over whom the
-March wind has passed will yet awaken from
-their sleep of degradation, and turns back again
-to the quiet peace of the village inn with the
-'lights and the fire,'
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- And the fiddler's old tune and the shuffling of feet;<br />
- For there in a while shall be rest and desire,<br />
- And there shall the morrow's uprising be sweet.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-The whole poem is one more witness to the
-sovereignty of art. The deepest social difficulty
-of our time is here drawn through the meshes
-of the artist's imagination and, purged of everything
-inessential, set out in vibrating colour and
-line far more appealing and convincing than all
-the statistical statements of the lords of rule.
-The failure of our modern legislation to realize
-the value of art in any hope of national
-regeneration is not the least of its blunders.
-Artists have, happily, escaped from the
-patronage of courts, but until the propagandists
-rediscover the fact that they must bring back
-the artists to their help, not as servants but
-as fellow labourers, they will not work wisely.
-The artists continue their labour, building some
-beauty in the world. That labour can be
-directed by no one but themselves, but it is
-at their peril that the workers who are striving,
-earnestly enough, towards a better hope refuse
-to throw the creations of the artist into the
-balance with their own endeavour. To bring
-poetry to the issue of a definite social problem,
-is, unfortunately, thought of as mere idleness.
-But let 'The Message of the March Wind'
-be delivered to the people up and down the
-land, as systematically if need be as the demand
-for rent or taxes, and it will be heard willingly
-enough, and when it is heard there will be
-new life among us. I speak in metaphors,
-but there may be method even in a metaphor.
-For 'The Message of the March Wind' might
-bring people in turn to <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>,
-and then the aim of Morris's art&mdash;of all
-art&mdash;would be understood by the world.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-'Mother and Son' is wider than 'The Message
-of the March Wind' in its scope inasmuch as
-it deals with a subject less peculiar to a
-particular generation or age, narrower in that it
-is concerned with one definite event instead
-of general conditions. A woman is speaking
-to her love-child. To analyse the poem would
-be to quote it almost line by line, but the
-conflict of the very roots of humanity with
-the blind dictates of circumstance, the
-tenderness of motherhood and the wistful yearning
-of a soul crossed in an uncharitable social
-scheme could scarcely find an expression more
-purely poetic. And 'The Half of Life Gone'
-touches this conflict with equal vigour and pity.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Reading these poems we are glad that Morris
-ordered his art as he did. Beautiful as they
-are and perfectly as they show the possibility
-of bringing all things into the purifying
-influence of the imaginative faculty, they yet
-leave us with an exultation that has in it some
-strain of despondency. Through no fault in
-the poet's working there is somewhere a flaw
-in the crystal. We thank him for showing us
-these things as we had not seen them before,
-but he has already tutored us too well. We
-turn back to the life that he has already made
-necessary to our being in the quiet ways of
-<i>The Earthly Paradise</i> and the great wind-swept
-world of <i>Sigurd the Volsung</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap08"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-VIII
-<br /><br />
-CONCLUSION
-</h3>
-
-<p>
-To enquire whether Marlowe was a greater poet
-than Milton or Milton a greater than Keats is
-but to juggle with words and to spin them into
-nothingness. It is enough that all were great. It
-is no honour to the giants of the earth to pit them
-one against another for our sport. That Morris
-was or was not the greatest poet of his age or
-century is a matter of complete unimportance
-upon which nothing depends. The supremely
-important thing, the splendid circumstance, is
-that here again in due season was a man
-unmistakably moulded in heroic proportions, one
-claiming and proving kinship with the masters
-whose names are but few. If humanity was
-fortunate enough to see others of his peers in
-his own day we can but be thankful for grace
-so prodigal; but, however that may be, here at
-least was one establishing anew the proudest
-succession of mankind. The creator of <i>Sigurd
-the Volsung</i> and so much more that is compact of
-sane and wholesome magnificence has his rightful
-company, and it may well be the gladdest
-boast of the world that he has; but in that
-company there are no degrees. Æschylus,
-Homer, Virgil, Dante, Michael Angelo,
-Shakespeare, Milton, Goethe, Beethoven, Wagner,
-Shelley, Wordsworth&mdash;there is an inspiration
-to the lips in the very names of these men and
-their fellows, but there must be no disputation
-as to the headship in their presence; they
-themselves will but laugh if they heed us at all.
-And Morris is, as I see him, clearly of that
-fellowship. By some strange generosity of
-nature he was not only allowed to give great
-poetry to the world, but also to readjust for us
-the significance of life in phases a little lower
-than the highest. It happened that a man who
-had the profoundest sense of the real nature of
-circumstance and conditions in his generation
-could enforce his direct and practical teaching
-by a creative imagination of the highest order.
-It would, perhaps, be fitter to say that in this
-man a supreme creative faculty was allied to
-another faculty that enabled him to interpret his
-imaginative art to the world in terms of
-immediate practice. The result of this is that
-although the indirect influence of his creative
-art&mdash;and that is always the profoundest influence
-in these things&mdash;is neither more nor less definable
-than that of other men of an equal power, his
-direct influence not upon abstract or scientific
-thought but upon the spiritual perception of
-men, has perhaps been more instant and far-reaching
-than that of any man in the history of
-English genius. It is, indeed, difficult to find
-anywhere a precise parallel to the curious
-phenomenon that was Morris. Experience proves
-the advent of a great poet to be apparently
-capricious, the unconsidered whim of powers
-that make but little distinction of seasons. The
-"Songs of Innocence" were quite definitely
-sung in the wilderness. But that manifestation
-of genius which covers a range wider than its
-own finest creation, and takes on something of
-universality in pervading itself not only with its
-own life but with the life of the world, would
-seem to be reserved for days that mark the
-culmination of some memorable epoch of
-imaginative activity, and in itself to be the
-crowning expression of such days. Michael Angelo
-and Shakespeare came at times when national
-life had been running with rare spiritual force
-for some years; when, that is to say, the world
-was cherishing beauty and had rich gifts to offer
-such men when they arose. The great word was
-but seeking a voice, and it is difficult to
-dissociate Michael Angelo from the impulse of
-Renaissance Italy, or Shakespeare from the
-impulse of Elizabethan England. The mighty
-utterance of these men was their own, wrought
-into its perfection by their separate and distinctive
-temperaments; of the essential isolation of
-the artist I have already spoken. But it is
-nevertheless an utterance in some measure made
-possible by the currents of the time in which it
-came and one for which an examination of the
-immediately preceding years prepares us. These
-men are exultant figures challenging the world
-for ever from heights that they did not build
-unaided. This, of course, does not effect their
-achievement, and the subordination of many
-splendid forces to one supreme end is, perhaps,
-the highest exercise of the faculty of design in the
-cosmic genius. The coming of such men is not
-less moving because it seems to be inevitable, but
-that it does seem inevitable is clear. There are,
-too, times when men move, as it were, in a kind
-of receptive stupor, times when great forces are
-latent in their midst; it is possible for a man of
-this imaginative universality to arrive at such a
-time without any apparent preparation in the
-days before him, and, being at once the pioneer
-and culmination of a new era, yet not to excite
-our astonishment as well as our worship, because
-the time, although lending him no impulse, at
-least offers him no resistance. The world could
-not be said to be expecting Goethe or&mdash;Collins
-and Gray notwithstanding&mdash;Wordsworth, and
-yet we are not surprised when we come to these
-men, because we have been moving through
-darkness between light and light, and have been
-expecting any new and sudden revelation that
-might be made&mdash;expecting to be surprised.
-Goethe and Wordsworth, unlike Michael Angelo
-and Shakespeare, did not appear as the final and
-perfect articulation of a word passed freely from
-lip to lip by their fellows, but they were at least
-allowed to speak without any violent denial being
-implicit in the whole intellectual and spiritual
-and artistic attitude of their time. Having the
-revelation of new temperaments to make, they
-found, inevitably, isolated voices of criticism
-against them, but, save for these, the age,
-although not demanding them as the logical
-issue of its own effort, at least did not appear
-to be essentially unfitted to produce them.
-<i>Lyrical Ballads</i> was printed at a time that had
-no deliberate artistic purpose of its own, but
-was, nevertheless, ripe for some new and striking
-manifestation of the spirit of man. The night
-had already lasted over-long. Wordsworth, it
-is true, came strangely early in the new day, but
-although the great voice in the dawn was
-unusual, it was not amazing.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-These men, it would seem then, are to be
-looked for in a time that either demands them
-for its own sublimated utterance or is at least
-negatively ready to receive them. Morris,
-however, whose genius was distinguished clearly by
-this universality, not only was not the essential
-figure of a great movement that had grown
-before and about him, but he came at a time
-that, far from demanding him as its natural
-fulfilment, was not even waiting to receive any
-new impression that might be struck upon it.
-When Tennyson had sounded his clearest music
-and Browning had wrought his subtlest perceptions
-into poetry, it was felt that the highest
-achievement of a new age had been reached.
-Then when the wonderful second summer of the
-romantic revival seemed to be exhausted,
-Swinburne gave to it a new term of strong life.
-Taking all the material that the new poetry had
-used since the first beginnings over a hundred
-years earlier, he blended it with his own
-temperament and gift of speech and, when men looked
-for no more than the quiet lapse into imitation
-and echoes, he showed it to be capable of an
-added and ringing significance that had been
-wholly unexpected. Taking language at the
-value that use had allotted to it, he not only
-retained the poetry that had already been found
-in those values but made it clear that no one
-had wrung the full measure of poetry from
-them. After this piling of crest above crest no
-further great expression could justly be looked
-for until in due time a fresh impulse had been
-fostered to its full strength. The Victorian
-development of romantic poetry had reached
-its splendid final achievement, and quiet if not
-wholly songless years would have been the
-natural succession. And yet, at the very time
-that Swinburne was lending this last glory to
-the marvellous epoch of which Collins had been
-the herald, another poet was already announcing
-a new day with the authentic voice of a master.
-The eternal impulse that conspired with Morris's
-own vision to create his poetry is, perhaps, more
-difficult to define than in the case of any other
-poet. It certainly is not to be found in his own
-age, and although to say that he sought to
-continue the mediæval tradition may account for
-much in his literary form, it does not help very
-greatly in the understanding of his spiritual
-temper. The fact is that in its fundamental
-qualities Morris's art came as near as any art
-can do to being unaffected by any external
-impulse at all. His love for certain aspects of
-mediævalism did not prevent him from reaching
-far beyond them both in the construction and
-the philosophy of his art. The quality in
-mediæval art that chiefly attracted him was its
-direct simplicity, and this quality he took up into
-his own work. Instead of using words for their
-cumulative poetic value he threw poetry over
-words that had hitherto gone naked. Apart
-from a few of his early poems and the use that
-he makes of models from time to time in verse
-forms, there is scarcely any evidence in the
-manner of his work that he had ever read any
-of the poetry before him. Reducing life to its
-simplest equation, he embodied it in an utterance
-as simple. But, in its interpretation of
-life, the world that he created was rather a world
-of the future than a world of the past, and it
-incorporates the essence of the spiritual and
-intellectual experience of the ages that had
-passed between, say, Chaucer and his own day.
-The intensity of his vision and the certainty
-with which he disentangled the essential from
-the ephemeral forced in him an utterance of a
-nature not unlike that of the earlier masters
-whom he was never tired of praising, but it is
-a mistake to suppose that he saw the history of
-the world shorn of five centuries. He was not
-misled into thinking that the fundamental
-meaning of life had changed, but he knew that man's
-power of adjusting his understanding to that
-meaning develops and is increased by the
-succession of prophetic voices, and in assimilating
-the cumulative growth of this power he was
-modern in the only worthy and valuable way.
-He applied a definitely modern faculty of
-analysis and definition to the permanent things of
-life, and embodied it in an utterance that was
-clearly his own but coloured in the shaping by
-a mediæval rather than any other influence.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-That such a poet should come was in itself
-not remarkable, but that he should come at such
-a moment was a phenomenon scarcely to be
-paralleled in literature. The current tradition
-of poetry when he was writing was not only
-hostile to his method, but in a negative way it
-had helped to make the age one peculiarly
-unfitted for his message. The eager selfishness of
-the new scientific thought had paid but little
-attention to the social ideal for which Morris
-stood. This neglect the poets had either
-flattered or, certainly, had not opposed, and the
-result was that at a time when poetry was
-passing through one of its most memorable epochs,
-the life of the people was suffused with
-vulgarity and meanness. Neither art nor science,
-whatever else they might be doing, realized that
-the basis of a wholesome national life is a delight
-among the people in their daily labour. The
-people did not discover this for themselves, and
-when Morris wanted to furnish his rooms he was
-forced to make his own chairs and tables. His
-work henceforward was to show his age its errors
-on the one hand in his social teaching, and on
-the other in his poetry and craftsmanship to
-announce its possibilities. This was a perfectly
-natural result of the influence of the conditions
-that surrounded him upon his own creative
-impulse, but how that impulse came to birth
-among such conditions must remain a splendid
-perplexity. Morris's work was directed to
-certain ends by the requirements of his age, but
-his spirit was one to which the age had no logical
-claim. He came not in due time but by some
-large generosity of the gods.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When a great poet comes not unexpectedly
-but as the natural and full development of a
-long tradition, it is easy not only to estimate
-the positive value of his own achievement, but
-also to trace or even to predict his influence
-upon his successors. New poets will come,
-possessing some measure of genuine inspiration,
-and carry the tradition through to its quiet and
-often lovely close; they will take their
-honourable places about the few commanding figures,
-worthy of their kinship and proud of it. But
-when the great poet happens to be at the
-beginning instead of at the full day of an epoch, we
-can but await the event. Morris not only
-discovered a new world in his art, but he was
-allowed to explore and establish it. His word
-was not one of rumour and promise alone, but
-more or less of fulfilment. Strands of his
-influence have already been drawn through the
-art and life of his followers, but the work that
-has been done in deliberate imitation of his is
-scarcely recognizable as such. A poet may
-imitate Tennyson with some success because
-he may inherit the same tradition that shaped
-Tennyson; the impulse is already in his blood
-towards the expression and temper of which his
-model is the consummation. But there is no
-such tradition behind Morris; his art was in a
-peculiar degree the creation of his own vision
-alone, and that is a thing which is beyond
-imitation. The new tradition that Morris himself
-began may or may not be carried along a clear
-line of progression, but it can only be taken up
-in its full compass by a poet that shall be not
-far short of Morris's own stature, and by the
-time he comes it is possible that the influence
-of the author of <i>Sigurd</i> may have done its work
-by operating indirectly through many new
-movements rather than through a direct
-succession of its own begetting. If this should
-happen, Morris's influence will be no less
-valuable a force in the world, but it is not unlikely
-that when the history of poetry in the
-nineteenth and twentieth centuries comes to be
-written, he will stand as a lonely titanic figure,
-excelled by none in the depth and range of his
-art, but outside any categorical lines of
-development.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-About Morris's own attitude towards his art
-a good deal of nonsense has been written. It
-appears, for example, that he once, in a moment
-of irresponsible conversation, said that poetry
-was 'tommy rot.' The remark had, of course,
-the exact value of all such small talk, but it is
-the kind of thing that has been solemnly
-advanced as a proof that he was primarily what is
-commonly called a man of action, who wrote
-poetry as a pleasant recreation. The truth is,
-of course, that Morris was a great artist, and
-knew that he was a great artist. That, to him,
-was the supremely important thing, because his
-art meant for him the sweetest and noblest life
-that he could perceive through his imagination.
-As a man of action he proved himself fully
-when occasion arose, but he undertook his
-propagandist work with reluctance and often turned
-from it in disgust. It was not that he was ever
-for a moment in doubt as to the excellence of
-the end at which such work was aiming, but
-that he knew that his own great work in the
-world, the work by which he could most effectually
-help it a little towards that end, was his
-art. To suggest that the man who created
-<i>Jason</i> and <i>The Earthly Paradise</i>, <i>Sigurd</i> and
-<i>Love is Enough</i> had anything but the profoundest
-reverence for his art, and especially
-for the supreme expression of his art&mdash;poetry&mdash;would
-be a preposterous insult if it were not
-ludicrous. Art was his gospel, and all his social
-teaching and activity were but an effort to
-bring his gospel to pass upon earth.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-We can imagine a race that had attained a
-wisdom fuller than has yet been found,
-adopting one simple form of daily supplication.
-Always from the people's lips this prayer should
-go up, "Lord, give us character." Character.
-That is the supreme need of man, and it is
-simply the faculty of being himself and expressing
-himself in all the conduct of his life. He
-may not be a very great man, or a very wise
-man, or even a very good man, but if he be
-himself he may, in some measure he must,
-become these. There is, at the outset, the
-necessity of material opportunity for so being
-himself. One who is overworked, or employed
-all the while in degrading work, or insufficiently
-paid for his work, one who is, in short, driven,
-cannot be himself, just as the man who is denied
-the chance of working at all cannot be himself.
-But, given the material opportunity, the power
-of proving his character, of asserting his
-individuality, of being himself, is inherent in every
-man. And this Morris felt with the whole
-energy of his being. He saw men having no
-adventurousness in their own spirits, dulled by
-routine, and with their own wills bent and
-impoverished by the will of some one else, degraded
-into mere echoes and reflections. He saw that
-the crying need of the world was character, and
-he sought to teach men that in bringing back
-joy to their daily work they would put their
-feet on the first step towards the only true
-dignity and pride of life. The satisfaction that
-comes of a piece of work truly done and having
-in it something of the soul of the worker was,
-to him, a holy thing. His own craftsmanship
-and manufacture were the expression of a man
-with this conviction; his imaginative writing
-was of a world peopled by such men. The
-spiritual exaltation of which I have spoken, the
-finer tissue of some mysterious emotional
-experience that is laid over the definable substance
-of poetry, is always in his work, translating its
-message into the imaginative terms of art; but
-the message itself is perfectly articulated, and it
-is one of the profoundest and most inspiriting
-that it has been given to any man to deliver.
-Other poets have given us courage to face a
-world fallen into uncharitable ways, or directed
-us to secluded places where we may forget the
-dust and trouble of a life that we must accept
-as an unfortunate necessity, or given good
-promise of revelation and comfort in a life to
-come; but none has ever announced so clearly
-as Morris the hope of life here upon earth.
-Cloistered quiet was an impossible state to this
-man who so loved fellowship, and the world
-beyond death he was content to leave to its
-own proving. But he did not endeavour to
-encourage men to face the life that he knew
-was unwholesome and draining them of freedom
-and manhood; he cried to them to destroy
-it and he showed them in his art the life that
-might be theirs in its stead.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The basis of Morris's social creed was an
-unchanging faith in the essential dignity of the
-nature of man. The trickeries and jealousies
-that beset our commercial phase of civilization
-he refused to accept as being fundamental in
-humanity, thinking of them rather as ill habits
-imposed upon humanity by some cruel sport of
-circumstance that made men forgetful of their
-own better instincts. He did not suppose that
-habits that had been slowly assimilated could be
-put off in a moment of violent reaction, but he
-never doubted if once men could be brought
-to consider the real purpose of traffic and social
-community, and so free themselves from a
-tyranny that endured only because part of its
-method was to carry its victims along in a
-continuous necessity of adjusting themselves to the
-immediate moment without allowing them to
-pause for reflection and see life in its completeness,
-that then these habits would inevitably be
-set aside. His desire always was that men
-should at least be allowed to prove themselves
-freely. From the turbulent passions and
-sorrows inseparable from humanity he asked no
-escape, taking them gladly as the darker threads
-in the many-coloured web of our heritage, but
-he denounced fiercely the doctrine that, finding
-men forced into daily betrayal of themselves,
-blandly announced that here was proof of their
-radical meanness and unworth. For the people
-who told him that before he could hope for the
-world of his imagining he must change human
-nature, he had a fine contempt. That this
-cleaner life was realizable on earth, and that
-without any revolutionary excesses, he showed
-as clearly in the work of his own life as any one
-man could do. He conducted a large business
-enterprise profitably and in open competition,
-but he did not degrade labour in employing it.
-He accepted the normal conditions of society in
-public and family life, but he did not allow them
-to cramp or violate his own personality. He
-realized fully that a great social fabric is not
-constructed out of mere unreason, and he had
-no wish to destroy systems that had been
-evolved from perfectly sound impulses; the
-thing that he fought against with all his
-extraordinary power was their abuse. Principles of
-exchange and of labour for the common good
-were a necessary complement of his belief that
-a man must get from his labour two things: joy
-in the work itself and the means whereby to
-live; but he knew that the real significance of
-these principles had been forgotten. His life
-was an active endeavour to impress it once
-again on the mind of the people, and in his
-poetry was the same endeavour embodied in
-creative imagination.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Writing of the northern stories Morris said,
-'Well, sometimes we must needs think that we
-shall live again; yet if that were not, would it
-not be enough that we helped to make this
-unnameable glory, and lived not altogether
-deedless? Think of the joy we have in praising
-great men, and how we turn their stories over
-and over, and fashion their lives for our joy: and
-this also we ourselves may give to the world.' It
-was curiously prophetic of that which we feel
-about Morris himself. His life, his art, the
-figure of the man, all fit into the outlines of a
-heroic story such as those that he loved. He
-gave, indeed, to the world in this manner and in
-large measure. And he added generously to
-the joy that we have in praising great men.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t3">
-THE END
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t4">
- WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD.<br />
- PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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