WILLIAM SHARP (FIONA MACLEOD) A MEMOIR COMPILED BY HIS WIFE ELIZABETH A. SHARP - ELIZABETH A. SHARP (phonics reader TXT) 📗

and often cowardly as well as ignorant harping! Why

should we not change like everything else? In fiction, in poetry,

in so much of both, French as well as English, and, I am told, in

American art and literature, the shadow of death—call it what you will,

despair, negation, indifference—is upon us. But what fools who talk

thus! Why, _amico mio_, you know as well as I that death is life, just

as our daily, our momentarily dying body is none the less alive and

ever recreating new forces of existence. Without death, which is our

crapelike churchyardy word for change, for growth, there could be no

prolongation of what we call life. Pshaw! it is foolish to argue upon

such a thing even. For myself, I deny death as an end of everything.

Never say of me that I am dead!”

 

On the 4th January, 1890, W. S. wrote to Mr. Thomas A. Janvier:

 

 

  London.

 

Many thanks for the _Aztec Treasure House_, which opens delightfully

and should prove a thrilling tale. I don’t know how _you_ feel, but

for myself I shall never again publish serially till I have completed

the story aforehand. You will have seen that I have been asked and

have agreed to write the critical monograph on Browning for the _Great

Writer’s Series_. This involves a harassing postponement of other work,

and considerable financial loss, but still I am glad to do it.

 

The Harlands spent New Year’s Day with us, and the Champagne was not

finished without some of it being quaffed in memory of the dear and

valued friends oversea. You, both of you, must come over this spring.

 

  Ever yours,

  WILLIAM SHARP.

 

With each New Year a Diary was begun with the intention of its being

carefully continued throughout the months, an intention however that

inevitably was abandoned as the monotony of the fulfilment palled upon

the writer.

 

The Diary for 1890 begins with a careful record of work and events,

noted daily till mid February when it ceases, to be resumed more

fitfully in September and October. The year is prefaced with the motto:

 

 “C’est à ce lendemain sevère que tout artiste sérieux doit

 songer.”—_Sainte Beuve._

 

The following more important entries tell where and how the monograph

was written and what other work he had on hand:

 

“_Jan. 2nd._—Wrote the first 3 or 4 pages (tentative) of ‘Browning’: or

rather the retrospective survey. Had a present of a fine Proof Etching

from Ford Madox Brown of his Samson and Delilah (framed) as ‘A New

Year’s Card.’ Also from Theodore Roussel, three fine proof Etchings,

also autograph copies of books from H. Harland, Mrs. Louise C. Moulton,

and ‘Maxwell Gray.’ Also a copy of his _Balzac_ from Wedmore. In the

evening there dined with us Mrs. E. R. Pennell (Mr. P. unable to come).

Harland and Mrs. Harland: Mona and Caird. Roussel could not come

till later. Had a most delightful evening. ‘The psychic sense of

rhythm is the fundamental factor in each and every art.’”—W. S.

 

“_Jan. 2nd._—(1) Wrote Chapter of _The Ordeal of Basil Hope_. (2)

Article on Haggard’s new book for _Young Folk’s Paper_. ‘The truest

literary criticism is that which sees that nowhere, at no time, in any

conceivable circumstances is there any absolute lapse of intellectual

activity, so long as the nation animated thereby is not in its death

throes.’”—W. S.

 

“What exquisite music there is in the lines of Swinburne’s in ‘A

Swimmer’s Dream’ (in this month’s _New Review_).”

 

“_Jan. 3rd._—(1) Wrote chapter of _Ordeal of Basil Hope_. Finished it

by 12.30. Then went to R. Academy Press-View and spent two hours or so

in the Galleries. While walking back to Club from Charing Cross thought

out some opening sentences for _Browning_, leading to the wave-theory,

beginning—‘In human history, waves of intellectual activity concur with

other dynamic movements. It used to be a formula of criticism, etc.’

(wrote down a couple of Pages at Club). ‘Death is a variation, a note

of lower or higher insistence in the rhythmical sequence of Life.’”—W.

S.

 

“_Jan. 4th._—(1) Wrote article of 2,500 words upon Balzac (for _The

Scottish Leader_). (2) Short ‘London Correspondence’ for _G. H._ The

profoundest insight cannot reach deeper than its own possibilities

of depth. The physiognomy of the soul is never visible in its

entirety—barely ever even its profile. The utmost we can expect to

produce (perhaps even to perceive, in the most quintessential moment),

is a partially faithful, partially deceptive silhouette. Since no human

being has ever yet seen his or her own soul, absolutely impartially

and in all its rounded completeness of good and evil, of strength and

weakness, of what is temporal and perishable and what is germinal

and essential, how can we expect even the subtlest analyst to depict

other souls than his own. Even in a savage there must be dormant

possibilities, animal and spiritual traits of all kinds, which could

to a deeper than any human vision (as we can conceive it) so colour

and modify an abstract ‘replica’ as to make it altogether unlike the

picture we should draw.”—W. S.

 

“_Jan. 5th._—The first thing the artist should cultivate if not

strongly dowered in this respect by Nature, is Serenity. A true

Serenity—what Wilfred Meynell, writing of Browning, in the _Athenæum_

of Friday, calls ‘detachment’—is one of the surest inspirers and

preservatives of that clarified psychic emotion which, in compelled or

propelled expressional activity, is the cause of all really creative

work. This true serenity is, of course, as far removed from a false

isolation of spirit or a contemptuous indifference, as from constant

perturbation about trifles and vulgar anxiety for self.”—W. S.

 

“_Jan. 6th._—Felt very unwell this morning.... Heard from Dr. Garnett

of the death last night of Dr. Westland Marston. (1) Wrote a portion

of second series of ‘Fragments from the Lost Journal of Piero di

Cosimo’ (one of a series of Imaginary portraits I am slowly writing

for magazine publication in the first instance). (2) ‘London Letter’

Reminiscences of Dr. Marston, etc.”

 

“_Jan. 10th._—Wrote a chapter of _Basil Hope_. In evening we went to

Mona’s. A pretty large gathering. Roussel told me he wanted to paint my

portrait, and asked me to give him sittings. Some one was speaking of a

poem by Browning being superlatively fine because of its high optimism

and ethical message. The question is not one of weighty message, but of

artistic presentation. To praise a poem because of its optimism is like

commending a peach because it loves the sunshine, rather than because

of its distinguishing bloom and savour. To urge that a poem is great

because of its high message is almost as uncritical as it would be

obviously absurd to aver that a postman is illustrious because of some

epic or history he may carry in his bag. In a word, the first essential

concern of the artist must be with his vehicle. In the instance of a

poet, this vehicle is language emotioned to the white-heat of rhythm.”

 

“_Jan. 12th._—Wrote first portion of Elegiac Poem on ‘Browning’

commencing:

 

  There is darkness everywhere;

    Scarce is the city limned

      In shadow on the lagoon.

  No wind in the heavy air.

    The stars themselves are dimmed,

      And a mist veils the moon.

 

“After lunch took T. Mavor to Alfred East’s to see his Japanese

pictures. Then I took T. M. to John M. Swan’s Studio. Then we went to

spend half an hour with Stepniak and his wife at 13 Grove Gardens.”

 

“_Jan. 13th._—Late in settling down, and then disinclined to write

except in verse. Wrote the second and final part of the Elegaic

Browning Poem for _Belford’s Magazine_. It is not often that I indulge

in inversions: but the gain is sometimes noticeable. I think it is in

this stanza:

 

  Alas, greatness is not, nor is

    There aught that is under the sun,

      Nor any mortal thing,

  Neither the heights of bliss

    Nor the depths of evil done,

      Unshadowed by Death’s wing.”

 

He soon found that it was impossible to write the monograph in

London—with its ceaseless demands and distractions. Under the pressure

of much work he became so unwell that we realised he could not finish

the book under existing conditions, therefore arranged that he should

leave me in charge of work at home and he should go to Hastings and

devote himself mainly to his _Browning_. On the 18th he records, from

rooms overlooking the sea “Blew a gale at night. The noise of the sea

like a vast tide in a hollow echoing cavern: and a shrill screaming

wail in the wind. Began my _Life of Browning_. To bed at 12.”

 

Then follows a record of the work done day by day: on the 19th, twelve

printed pages: on the 20th ten pages: on the 21st four only because he

lunched with Coventry Patmore who was then residing at Hastings. On

the 22nd, thirteen pages; on the 23rd, eleven pages, and five letters.

 

_Jan. 26th_ has this note: “We can no more predict Browning’s place

in literature as it will be esteemed by posterity than we can specify

the fauna and flora of a planet whose fires have not yet sufficiently

cooled to enable vegetation to grow.”

 

His stay at Hastings was rendered pleasant by the neighbourliness of

Coventry Patmore with whom he had many long talks, and by occasional

visits to Miss Betham Edwards who had a house on the hill beyond the

old castle.

 

He returned to town at the beginning of February.

 

On the 4th he wrote “the first scene of a Play (to be called either

“The Lover’s Tragedy,” or “The Tower of Silence”) which was afterward

rewritten and published in _Vistas_ as “A Northern Night.”

 

The Diary continues:

 

“_8th February._ Began about 10.30. (1) Wrote the rest of Imaginary

Journal (Piero di Cosimo) i. e. about 2,000 words. In evening posted

it to Mavor for March issue of _The Art Review_. (2) Wrote long London

Letter for G. H. (2,000 words). (3) Began at 9.30 to do _Browning_.

Including quotations did 10 printed pages. Re-read the early books of

‘The Ring and the Book.’ To bed at 2.30. Tired somewhat after writing

to-day, in all, about 7,000 words (less Browning’s quotations).

 

“_Sunday 9th._ Breakfast at eleven—Worked at Browning matter till 5 (in

bed). In evening Mona, and Mathilde came in and Frank Rinder, Ernest

Rhys, etc. Wrote _Young Folk’s Paper_ article. Read up till about 3 A.M.

 

_10th._ Worked six hours on end at Browning material. Between tea and

dinner wrote Chap. 18 of _Ordeal of Basil Hope_; after dinner wrote

Chap. 19. At 10 went up to Mona’s to fetch Lill. Egmont Hake there, W.

Earl Hodgson and Miss Shedlock, Mathilde Blind.

 

_11th._ At British Museum all day, working at ‘Odes.’ (This selection

of Odes in the _Canterbury Poets_.)

 

In evening wrote six p. p. of _Browning_.

 

_12th._ (1) In first part of day wrote 6 pages of _Browning_. (2) Short

London Letter for G. H. From 5 to 8 I wrote Chap. 20 of _Basil Hope_.

(4) After dinner (between 9 and 12.30) wrote 8 more pages of _Browning_

(14 in all to-day).

 

_13th._ Wrote 12 pages of _Browning_ and Chap. XXI of _Basil Hope_.

 

“_February 14th._—In morning, late afternoon and evening (from 9-12)

wrote in all 18 printed pages of _Browning_, or, including quotation,

21.”

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

Here the Diary abruptly ends. I do not recollect on what date the

_Browning_ was finished, but it was published in the early autumn. And

I have no recollection as to what became of _The Ordeal of Basil Hope_,

whether or not it ever appeared serially, but I think not. It never was

issued in book form—and from the time we gave up the house in Goldhurst

Terrace he never gave it a thought. It was characteristic of him that

when a piece of work was finished or discarded, it passed wholly out of

his mind, for his energies were always centred on his work on hand and

on that projected.

 

He was a careful student of the progress of contemporary

literatures—especially French (including Belgian) Italian and

American—and during the spring and summer he wrote a long article on

American literature for _The National Review_, an article on D’Annunzio

for _The Fortnightly_. He also prepared a volume in English of selected

Essays of St. Beuve for which he wrote a careful critical Preface.

 

The three years at Hampstead had been happy and successful. William

had regained health; and had a command of work that made the ways of

life pleasant. We had about us a genial sympathetic group of friends,

and were in touch with many keen minds of the day. Temperamentally he

could work or play with equal jest and enjoyment; he threw himself

whole-heartedly into whatever he did. Observant, keenly intuitive,

he cared to come into contact with all kinds and types of men and

women; cared continually to test the different minds and temperaments

he came across, providing always that they had a vital touch about

them, and were not comatosely conventional. Curious about life, he

cared