Theodore Watts-Dunton Part 27

But Mr. Watts-Dunton himself, in his sonnet, 'Brynhild on Sigurd's Funeral Pyre,' so powerfully ill.u.s.trated by Mr. Byam Shaw, has given us in fourteen lines a picture of feminine courage and stoicism that puts even Charlotte Bronte's picture of s.h.i.+rley in the shade:-

With blue eyes fixed on joy and sorrow past, Tall Brynhild stands on Sigurd's funeral pyre; She stoops to kiss his mouth, though forks of fire Rise fighting with the reek and wintry blast; She smiles, though earth and sky are overcast With shadow of wings that shudder of Asgard's ire; She weeps, but not because the G.o.ds conspire To quell her soul and break her heart at last.

"Odin," she cries, "it is for G.o.ds to droop!- Heroes! we still have man's all-sheltering tomb, Where cometh peace at last, whate'er may come: Fate falters, yea, the very Norns shall stoop Before man's courage, naked, bare of hope, Standing against all h.e.l.l and Death and Doom.

Rhona Boswell, too, under all her playful humour, is of this strain, as we see in that sonnet on 'Kissing the Maybuds' in 'The Coming of Love'

(given on page 406 of this book).

As Groome's remarks upon 'Aylwin' are in many ways of special interest, I will for a moment digress from the main current of my argument, and say a few words about it. Of course as the gypsies figure so largely in this story, there were very few writers competent to review it from the Romany point of view. Leland was living when it appeared, but he was residing on the Continent; moreover, at his age, and engrossed as he was, it was not likely that he would undertake to review it. There was another Romany scholar, spoken of with enthusiasm by Groome-I allude to Mr.

Sampson, of Liverpool, who has since edited Borrow's 'Romany Rye' for Messrs. Methuen, and who is said to know more of Welsh Romany than any Englishman ever knew before. At that time, however, he was almost unknown. Finally, there was Groome himself, whose articles in the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica' and 'Chambers's Encyclopaedia,' had proclaimed him to be the greatest living gypsologist. The editor of the 'Bookman,'

being anxious to get a review of the book from the most competent writer he could find, secured Groome himself. I can give only a few sentences from the review. Groome, it will be seen, does not miss the opportunity of flicking in his usual satirical manner the omniscience of some popular novelists:-

"Novelty and truth," he says, "are 'Aylwin's' chief characteristics, a rare combination nowadays. Our older novelists-those at least still held in remembrance-wrote only of what they knew, or of what they had painfully mastered. Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, Jane Austen, Scott, d.i.c.kens, Thackeray, the Brontes, and George Eliot belong to the foremost rank of these; for types of the second or the third may stand Marryat, Lever, Charles Reade, James Grant, Surtees, Whyte Melville, and Wilkie Collins. But now we have changed all that; the maximum of achievement seldom rises above school board nescience. With a few exceptions (one could count them on the ten fingers) our present-day novelists seem to write only about things of which they clearly know nothing. One of the most popular lays the scene of a story in Paris: the Seine there is tidal, it rolls a murdered corpse upwards. In another work by her a gambler shoots himself in a cab. 'I trust,' cries a friend who has heard the shot, 'he has missed.' 'No,' says a second friend, 'he was a dead shot.' Mr. X. writes a realistic novel about betting. It is crammed with weights, acceptances, and all the rest of it; but, alas! on an early page a servant girl wins 12_s._ 6_d._ at 7 to 1. Mrs. Y. takes her heroine to a Scottish deer-forest: it is full of primeval oaks.

Mrs. Z. sends her hero out deerstalking. Following a hill-range, he sights a stag upon the opposite height, fires at it, and kills his benefactor, who is strolling below in the glen. And Mr. Ampersand in his masterpiece shows up the littleness of the Establishment: his ritualistic church presents the inconceivable conjunction of the Ten Commandments and a gorgeous rood-screen. I have drawn upon memory for these six examples, but subscribers to Mudie's should readily recognize the books I mean; they have sold by thousands on thousands.

'Aylwin' is not such as these. There is much in it of the country, of open-air life, of mountain scenery, of artistic fellows.h.i.+p, of Gypsydom; it might be called the novel of the two Bohemias."

Many readers have expressed the desire to know something about the prototypes of Sinfi Lovell and Rhona Boswell. The following words from the Introduction to the 20th edition (called the 'Snowdon Edition') may therefore be read with interest:-

"Although Borrow belonged to a different generation from mine, I enjoyed his intimate friends.h.i.+p in his later years-during the time when he lived in Hereford Square. When, some seven or eight years ago, I brought out an edition of 'Lavengro,' I prefaced that delightful book by a few desultory remarks upon Borrow's gypsy characters. On that occasion I gave a slight sketch of the most remarkable 'Romany Chi' that had ever been met with in the part of East Anglia known to Borrow and myself-Sinfi Lovell. I described her playing on the crwth. I discussed her exploits as a boxer, and I contrasted her in many ways with the glorious Anglo-Saxon road-girl Isopel Berners.

Since the publication of 'Aylwin' and 'The Coming of Love' I have received very many letters from English and American readers inquiring whether 'the Gypsy girl described in the introduction to "Lavengro" is the same as the Sinfi Lovell of "Aylwin," and also whether 'the Rhona Boswell that figures in the prose story is the same as the Rhona of "The Coming of Love?"' The evidence of the reality of Rhona so impressed itself upon the reader that on the appearance of Rhona's first letter in the 'Athenaeum,' where the poem was printed in fragments, I got among other letters one from the sweet poet and adorable woman Jean Ingelow, who was then very ill,-near her death indeed,-urging me to tell her whether Rhona's love-letter was not a versification of a real letter from a real gypsy to her lover. As it was obviously impossible for me to answer the queries individually, I take this opportunity of saying that the Sinfi of 'Aylwin' and the Sinfi described in my introduction to 'Lavengro' are one and the same character-except that the story of the child Sinfi's weeping for the 'poor dead Gorgios' in the churchyard, given in the Introduction, is really told by the gypsies, not of Sinfi, but of Rhona Boswell. Sinfi is the character alluded to in the now famous sonnet describing 'the walking lord of gypsy lore,' Borrow; by his most intimate friend, Dr. Gordon Hake.

Now that so many of the gryengroes (horse-dealers), who form the aristocracy of the Romany race, have left England for America, it is natural enough that to some readers of 'Aylwin' and 'The Coming of Love,' my pictures of Romany life seem a little idealized. The 'Times,' in a kindly notice of 'The Coming of Love,' said that the kind of gypsies there depicted are a very interesting people, 'unless the author has flattered them unduly.' Those who best knew the gypsy women of that period will be the first to aver that I have not flattered them unduly."

It is Winifred who shares, not only with Henry Aylwin, but also with the author himself, that love of the wind which he revealed in the 'Athenaeum'

many years before 'Aylwin' was published. I may quote this pa.s.sage in praise of the wind as an example of the way in which his imaginative work and his critical work are often interwoven:-

"There is no surer test of genuine nature instinct than this.

Anybody can love suns.h.i.+ne. No people had less of the nature instinct than the Romans, but they could enjoy the sun; they even took their solaria or sun-baths, and gave them to their children. And, if it may be said that no Roman loved the wind, how much more may this be said of the French! None but a born child of the tent could ever have written about the winds of heaven as Victor Hugo has written in 'Les Travailleurs de la Mer,' as though they were the ministers of Ahriman. 'From Ormuzd, not from Ahriman, ye come.' And here, indeed, is the difference between the two nationalities. Love of the wind has made England what she is; dread of the wind has greatly contributed to make France what she is. The winds are the breathings of the Great Mother. Under the 'olden spell' of dumbness, nature can yet speak to us by her winds. It is they that express her every mood, and, if her mood is rough at times, her heart is kind. This is why the true child of the open-air-never mind how much he may suffer from the wind-loves it, loves it as much when it comes and 'takes the ruffian billows by the top' to the peril of his life, as when it comes from the sweet South. In the wind's most boisterous moods, such as those so splendidly depicted by Dana in the doubling of Cape Horn, there is an exhilaration, a fierce delight, in struggling with it. It is delightful to read Th.o.r.eau when he writes about the wind, and that which the wind so loves-the snow."

Chapter XXIII THE RENASCENCE OF WONDER IN RELIGION

AND now as to the real inner meaning of 'Alwyin,' about which so much has been written. "'Aylwin,'" says Groome, "is a pa.s.sionate love-story, with a mystical idee mere. For the entire dramatic action revolves around a thought that is coming more and more to the front-the difference, namely, between a materialistic and a spiritualistic cosmogony." And Dr. Nicoll, in his essay on "The Significance of 'Aylwin,'" in the 'Contemporary Review,' says:-

"Every serious student will see at a glance that 'Aylwin' is a concrete expression of the author's criticism of life and literature, and even-though this must be said with more reserve-a concrete expression of his theory of the universe. This theory I will venture to define as an optimistic confronting of the new cosmogony of growth on which the author has for long descanted. Throughout all his writings there is evidence of a mental struggle as severe as George Eliot's with that materialistic reading of the universe which seemed forced upon thinkers when the doctrine of evolution pa.s.sed from hypothesis to an accepted theory. Those who have followed Mr.

Watts-Dunton's writings in the 'Examiner' and in the 'Athenaeum' must have observed with what pa.s.sionate eagerness he insisted that Darwinism, if properly understood, would carry us no nearer to materialism than did the spiritualistic cosmogonies of old, unless it could establish abiogenesis against biogenesis. As every experiment of every biologist has failed to do so, a new spiritualist cosmogony must be taught."

And yet the student of 'Aylwin' must bear in mind that some critics, taking the very opposite view, have said that its final teaching is not meant to be mystical at all, but anti-mystical-that what to Philip Aylwin and his disciples seems so mystical is all explained by the operation of natural laws. This theory reminds me of a saying of Goethe's about the enigmatic nature of all true and great works of art. I forget the exact words, but they set me thinking about the chameleon-like iridescence of great poems and dramas.

With regard to the fountain-head of all the mysticism of the story, Philip Aylwin, much has been said. Philip is the real protagonist of the story-he governs, as I have said, the entire dramatic action from his grave, and ill.u.s.trates at every point Sinfi Lovell's saying, 'You must dig deep to bury your daddy.' Everything that occurs seems to be the result of the father's speculations, and the effect of them upon other minds like that of his son and that of Wilderspin.

The appearance of this new epic of spiritual love came at exactly the right moment-came when a new century was about to dawn which will throw off the trammels of old modes of thought. While I am writing these lines Mr. Balfour at the British a.s.sociation has been expounding what must be called 'Aylwinism,' and (as I shall show in the last chapter of this book) saying in other words what Henry Aylwin's father said in 'The Veiled Queen.' In the preface to the edition of 'Aylwin' in the 'World's Cla.s.sics' the author says:-

"The heart-thought of this book being the peculiar doctrine in Philip Aylwin's 'Veiled Queen,' and the effect of it upon the fortunes of the hero and the other characters, the name 'The Renascence of Wonder' was the first that came to my mind when confronting the difficult question of finding a name for a book that is at once a love-story and an expression of a creed. But eventually I decided, and I think from the worldly point of view wisely, to give it simply the name of the hero.

The important place in the story, however, taken by this creed, did not escape the most acute and painstaking of the critics. Madame Galimberti, for instance, in the elaborate study of the book which she made in the 'Rivista d'Italia,' gave great attention to its central idea; so did M. Maurice Muret, in the 'Journal des Debats'; so did M. Henri Jacottet in 'La Semaine Litteraire.' Mr. Baker, again, in his recently published 'Guide to Fiction,' described 'Aylwin' as "an imaginative romance of modern days, the moral idea of which is man's att.i.tude in face of the unknown, or, as the writer puts it, 'the renascence of wonder.'" With regard to the phrase itself, in the introduction to the latest edition of 'Aylwin'-the twenty-second edition-I made the following brief reply to certain questions that have been raised by critics both in England and on the Continent concerning it. The phrase, I said, 'The Renascence of Wonder,' 'is used to express that great revived movement of the soul of man which is generally said to have begun with the poetry of Wordsworth, Scott, Coleridge, and others, and after many varieties of expression reached its culmination in the poems and pictures of Rossetti.'

The painter Wilderspin says to Henry Aylwin, 'The one great event of my life has been the reading of "The Veiled Queen," your father's book of inspired wisdom upon the modern Renascence of Wonder in the mind of man.' And further on he says that his own great picture symbolical of this renascence was suggested by Philip Aylwin's vignette. Since the original writing of 'Aylwin,' many years ago, I have enlarged upon its central idea in the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica,'

in the introductory essay to the third volume of 'Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature,' and in other places. Naturally, therefore, the phrase has been a good deal discussed. Quite lately Dr. Robertson Nicoll has directed attention to the phrase, and he has taken it as a text of a remarkable discourse upon the 'Renascence of Wonder in Religion.'

Mr. Watts-Dunton then quotes Dr. Nicoll's remarks upon the Logia recently discovered by the explorers of the Egypt Fund. He shows how men came to see 'once more the marvel of the universe and the romance of man's destiny. They became aware of the spiritual world, of the supernatural, of the lifelong struggle of soul, of the power of the unseen.'

"The words quoted by Dr. Nicoll might very appropriately be used as a motto for 'Aylwin' and also for its sequel 'The Coming of Love: Rhona Boswell's Story.'"

When 'Aylwin' first appeared, the editor of a well-known journal sent it to me for review. I read it: never shall I forget that reading.

I was in Ireland at the time-an Irish Wedding Guest at an Irish Wedding. Now an Irish Wedding is more joyous than any novel, and Irish girls are lovelier than any romance. A duel between Life and Literature! Picture it! Behold the Irish Wedding Guest spell-bound by a story-teller as cunning as 'The Ancient Mariner' himself! He heareth the bridal music, but Aylwin continueth his tale: he cannot choose but hear, until 'The Curse' of the 'The Moonlight Cross' of the Gnostics is finally expiated, and Aylwin and Winnie see in the soul of the sunset 'The Dukkeripen of the Trushul,' the blessed Cross of Rose and Gold. Amid the 'merry din' of the Irish Wedding Feast the Irish Wedding Guest read and wrote. And among other lyrical things, he said that 'since Shakespeare created Ophelia there has been nothing in literature so moving, so pathetic, so unimaginably sorrowful as the madness of Winnie Wynne.' And he also said that "the majority of readers will delight in 'Aylwin' as the most wonderful of love stories, but as the years go by an ever increasing number will find in it the germ of a new religion, a clarified spiritualism, free from charlatanry, a solace and a consolation for the soul amid the bludgeonings of circ.u.mstance and the cruelties of fate."

Mr. Watts-Dunton, when I told him that I was going to write this book, urged me to moderate my praise and to call into action the critical power that he was good enough to say that I possessed. He especially asked me not to repeat the above words, the warmth of which, he said, might be misconstrued; but the courage of my opinions I will exercise so long as I write at all. The 'newspaper cynics' that once were and perhaps still are strong, I have always defied and always will defy. I am glad to see that there is one point of likeness between us of the younger generation and the great one to which Mr. Watts-Dunton and his ill.u.s.trious friends belong. We are not afraid and we are not ashamed of being enthusiastic.

This, also, I hope, will be a note of the twentieth century.

No doubt mine was a bold prophecy to utter in a rapid review of a romance, but time has shown that it was not a rash one. The truth is that the real vogue of 'Aylwin' as a message to the soul is only beginning. Five years have elapsed since the publication of 'Aylwin,'

and during that time it has, I think, pa.s.sed into twenty-four editions in England alone, the latest of all these editions being the beautiful 'Arvon Edition,' not to speak of the vast issue in sixpenny form.

I will now quote the words of a very accomplished scholar and critic upon the inner meaning of 'Aylwin' generally. They appeared in the 'Sat.u.r.day Review' of October 1904, and they show that the interest in the book, so far from waning, is increasing:-

"Public taste has for once made a lucky shot, and we are only too pleased to be able to put an item to the credit of an account in taste, where the balance is so heavily on the wrong side. How 'Aylwin' ever came to be a popular success is hard indeed to understand. We cannot wonder at the doubts of a popular reception confessed to by Mr. Watts-Dunton in his dedication of the latest edition to Mr. Ernest Rhys. How did a book, notable for its poetry and subtlety of thought, come to appeal to an English public? That it should have a vogue in Wales was natural; Welsh patriotism would a.s.sure a certain success, though by itself it could not indeed have made the book the household word it has now become throughout all Wales. And undoubtedly its Welsh reception has been the more intelligent; it has been welcomed there for the qualities that most deserved a welcome; while in England we fear that in many quarters it has rather been welcomed in spite of them. The average English man and woman do not like mystery and distrust poetry. They have little sympathy with the 'renascence of wonder,' which some new pa.s.sages unfold to us in the Arvon edition, pa.s.sages originally omitted for fear of excessive length and now restored from the MS. We are glad to have them, for they ill.u.s.trate further the intellectual motive of the book. We are of those who do not care to take 'Aylwin' merely as a novel."

These words remind me of two reviews of 'Aylwin,' one by Mr. W. P. Ryan, a fellow-countryman of mine, which was published when 'Aylwin' first appeared, the other by an eminent French writer.

"The salient impression on the reader is that he is looking full into deep reaches of life and spirituality rather than temporary pursuits and mundane ambitions. In this regard, in its freedom from littleness, its breadth of life, its exaltation of mood, its sense of serene issues that do not pa.s.s with the changing fas.h.i.+ons of a generation, the book is almost epic.

But 'Aylwin' has yet other sides. It is a vital and seizing story.

The girl-heroine is a beautiful presentment, and the struggle with destiny, when, believing in the efficacy of a mystic's curse she loses her reason, and flies from poignantly idyllic life to harrowing life, her stricken lover in her wake, is nearly Greek in its intensity and pathos. The long, long quest through the mountain magic of Wales, the wandering spheres of Romany-land, and the art-reaches of London, could only be made real and convincing by triumphant art. A less expert pioneer would enlarge his effects in details that would dissipate their magic; Mr. Watts-Dunton knows that one inspired touch is worth many uninspired chapters, as Shakespeare knew that 'she should have died hereafter.'

Death came on her like an untimely frost, Upon the fairest flower of all the field.

or

Childe Rowland to the dark tower came,

is worth an afternoon of emphasis, a night of mystical elaboration.

Incidentally, the Celtic and Romany types of character reveal their essence. Here, too, the author preserves the artistic unities.

Delightful as one realizes these characters to be, full-blooded personalities though they are, it is still their spirit, and through it the larger spirit of their race, that s.h.i.+nes clearest. Their story is all realistic, and yet it leaves the flavour of a fairy tale of Regeneration. At first sight one is inclined to speak of their beautiful kins.h.i.+p with Nature; but the truth is that Nature and they together are seen with spiritual eyes; that they and Nature are different but kindred embodiments of the underlying, all-extending, universal soul; that Henry's love, and Winnie's rapture, and Snowdon's magic, and Sinfi's crwth, and the little song of y Wydffa, and the glorious mountain dawn are but drops and notes in a melodic mystic ocean, of which the farthest stars and the deepest loves are kindred and inevitable parts-parts of a whole, of whose ministry we hardly know the elements, yet are cognisant that our highest joy is to feel in radiant moments that we, too, are part of the harmony. In idyll, despair or tragedy, the beauty of 'Aylwin' is that always the song of the divine in humanity is beneath it. Everything merges into one consistent, artistically suggested, spiritual conception of life; love tried, tortured, finally rewarded as the supreme force utilized to drive home the intolerable negation and atrophy of materialism; in Henry's gnostic father, in the scientific Henry himself, the Romany Sinfi, Winnie whose nature is a song, Wilderspin who believes that his model is a heavenly visitant with an immaterial body, D'Arcy who stands for Rossetti, the end is the same; and the striking trait is the felicity with which so many dissimilar personalities, while playing the drama of divergent actuality to the full, yet realize and ill.u.s.trate, without apparent manipulation by the author, the one abiding spiritual unity.

In execution, 'Aylwin' is far above the accomplished English novel-work of latter years; as a conception of life it surely transcends all. The 'schools' we have known: the realistic, the romantic, the quasi-historical, the local, seem but parts of the whole when their motives are measured with the idea that permeates this novel. They take drear or gallant roads through limited lands; it rises like a stately hill from which a world is clearer, above and beyond whose limits there are visions, Voices, and the verities."

With equal eloquence M. Jacottet on the same day wrote about "Aylwin" in 'La Semaine Litteraire':-

"The central idea of this poetic book is that of love stronger than death, love elevating the soul to a mystical conception of the universe. It is a singular fact that at the moment when England, intoxicated with her successes, seems to have no room for thought except with regard to her fleet and her commerce, and allows herself to be dazzled by dreams of universal empire, the book in vogue should be Mr. Watts-Dunton's romance-the most idealistic, the farthest removed from the modern Anglo-Saxon conception of life that he could possibly conceive. But this fact has often been observable in literary history. Is not the true charm of letters that of giving to the soul respite from the brutalities of contemporary events?"