Laurence Housman's drawing

Laurence Housman

LAURENCE HOUSMAN (1865-1959), the younger brother of the poet A.E. Housman, wrote eighty books during his lifetime, although he is perhaps best known as the illustrator and designer of such works as Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market (1893), Jane Barlow's The End of Elfintown (8194), and his own Green Arras (1896). These works, with their intricate Art Nouveau illustrations and bindings, establish him as a worthy successor of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelite tradition. Together with Charles Ricketts, he ushered in a new era of publishers' bindings, and his stylistic influence was greatest on commercial publishing.

The view from under the table

A talk given to the Housman Society in Street Library by David Parsons, 22 June 2005

Laurence wrote:

"The man who bears my name, and who claims to be me, was born on July 15, 1865, the sixth in a family of seven. He was an ugly child, and remained ugly till his eighteenth year, when his looks gradually improved. He was also, in those early years, rather a weakling, bad at athletics, not fond of exercise, a continuous but slow reader, lazy at work which did not interest him - and at his school, did little; in solitary leisure a persistent day-dreamer; in company a victim of 'the inferiority complex,' from which he has never got free, and is still in consequence, defensively pugnacious."

In his seventies he still felt the inferiority: "For the last half of my life I have had the doubtful benefit of a brother whose literary reputation is much greater than my own. When I am not mistaken for him - as often happens - I am decisively 'put in my place.'"

You will find this illustration (right) in The Werewolf, published in 1896, but it is a reworking of Laurence's view of his childhood, a childhood spent under the awesome influence of his elder brother AE. Alfred taught him step by step to write a sonnet. When Alfred overheard him read to his sister a verse translation of Ovid, and commented 'Excellent', he remembered every word of that translation to his old age.

When the family moved to the country Laurence was 7, and his walks through the fields and woods with Alfred were trips to fairyland. The repressive and emotionally null home life that sent Alfred to take refuge in his ivory tower, drove Laurence to find sanctuary in a land of fantasy, of long-haired girls and medieval heroics.

Alfred assured himself of his own superiority by writing of the failures of other scholars:

"Stoeber's mind, though that is no name to call it by, was one which turned as unswervingly to the false, the meaningless, the unmetrical, and the ungrammatical, as the needle to the pole."

"Not only had Jacob no sense for grammar, no sense for coherency, no sense for sense, but being himself possessed by a passion for the clumsy and the hispid he imputed this disgusting taste to all the authors whom he edited; and Manilius, the one Latin poet who excels even Ovid in verbal point and smartness, is accordingly constrained to write the sort of poetry which might have been composed by Nebuchadnezzar when he was driven from men and did eat grass as oxen."

Laurence in contrast made a world that was all his own, where 'once in a blue moon' is a real time and place, as it was for the princess and her poor peasant sweetheart. The title story in this collection ends thus:

"But Nillywill and Hands-pansy, living together in the blue moon, look back upon the world, if now and then they choose to remember, without any longing for it or sorrow."

That is as clear an example of escapism as you can get. But it is time to turn to Laurence as an illustrator. It may be interesting to have a look at 4 examples of good illustrators of this era.

Robert Barnes was a good draughtsman, providing dramatic scenes for the stories, like this from 1886.

Phiz was one of the brilliant illustrators of Dickens, with his own distinctive satirical style.

Tenniel, who did the pictures for the Alice books, here illustrates tomorrow morning's play reading. Another brilliant, utterly individual artist.

B. M. Johnson drew this picture for Hardy's Tess.

Laurence Housman found a different path. Not a natural expert at drawing, he was inspired by a kindred spirit from the previous century, as he explains.

In my fourteenth year I had gone up to London for the first time, to see as many of the sights as could be got into a fortnight. And at the National Gallery I had been curiously attracted

by a picture of 'The Spiritual Form of Pitt guiding Behemoth'. It was by an artist I had never heard of; and then I saw to my sorrow that he had lived in the eighteenth century; and having at that time a fixed belief that, except in portraiture and landscape, the art of the eighteenth century was all wrong, I turned my back on it, and must even have forgotten his name. Two years later I went to stay with my godfather, who was a clergyman of terrific religious zeal, but with no interest in art except for church-decoration; and in his study were bookshelves filled entirely with works of theology and the lives of heavy divines. But he had recently married, and one or two of his wife's books, had found a place among the sterner stuff in which on previous visits I had tried and failed to find interest. And as I roamed the shelves I sighted two volumes which had golden angels on their backs, not badly designed. Going nearer, I looked at the title: Life and Works of William Blake. But in the library of my godfather Life and Works had only one meaning for me: it meant the life and works of a clergyman, and to the life of this particular clergyman had been given an attractive cover of angels with uplifted wings.

So I did not probe further: there were the two books of the life of the man I was to adore, and I did not take them down: the Gates of Paradise were before me waiting to be opened - and I did not open them!

Two more years were to go by before I knew anything about William Blake. Many years later, when his wife died, my godfather gave me the two books as a remembrance.

I have them now; and whenever I look at them they remind me of those two years of possible help and inspiration which I so blindly wasted.

I think this must have been done during those two years. The pastel of Bromsgrove which hangs in this library is LH's only work in colour. He wrote:

"This drawing was done in the back garden of my old home, Perry Hall, Bromsgrove, in my 19th year - a year after I had left home to study art in London. It was my first and last completed drawing in pastels that I can remember making, before I decided to stick to black and white. If this is a fair example of what I could do as a first attempt, I wish I had gone on with it. It is so much more modern in style than my other work; and I might have secured a larger public, and become more popular, had I gone along with it."

To me it is the sort of picture that I have seen too often in galleries. When I still did not know its date I commented that it was done "before Housman had found a style." Another view put to me is that if this is Laurence's first attempt at the medium it shows great promise of development.

His sister Clemence was, Laurence wrote, "Both in drawing and writing ... well ahead of me." He admired her all his life, considering her the better writer. They went together to the local Art School, and then to London. She studied wood engraving, and engraved Laurence's drawings for him. When we look at the printed work of LH we have to remember that almost every stroke of his pen has been interpreted in wood by his sister.

Laurence had a long training. He wrote that he took nearly seven years to find himself as an artist. He said: "Though while at South Kensington I took a few prizes in the National Competition, I did not get near to having a style of my own." At the Senior Sketch Club his work was criticised by Alma-Tadema and Edmund Gosse among others, but the criticism he respected must have reminded him of his brother. He writes: "We were criticized by John Sparkes, whose caustic knifings did us good... Sparkes really knew his business; and his quiet biting remarks were greatly enjoyed by all except the recipients."

I had just lighted upon Blake; and without any approach to his unity of technique in line and composition, had begun imitating him and one day I brought to the Sketch Club a drawing which set all my fellow-students laughing. As Sparkes went round criticizing the drawings, my heart went down into my boots, for if my attempt appeared so ridiculous to the rest, what would it seem to him? He left it to the very last (having first passed it by without comment); as he approached it a titter of happy anticipation went round the class. Then came his first words: 'This drawing interests me enormously', and the tittering stopped. He went on to say, quite truly, that I did not yet know how to draw, and that my figures were ludicrously wrong and ugly; but he said other things as well. I saw him asking the secretary whose sketch it was (for our exhibits went in unsigned), and when class was over he came and spoke to me about it, saying 'Blake, I suppose?' From that day he kept a friendly eye on me; and two years later, when I had gone on to South Kensington, he got me my first job.

One particular aspect of Blake's art had some bearing on LH's first big success. That was the integration of words and pictures to make a whole book into a work of art.

George Meredith had written a satire on religious enthusiasm, a poem called Jump to Glory Jane, and he wanted it presented and illustrated by someone who would not burlesque his work. The result was a series of pages of handwritten verse with pictures that were a strange mixture of the everyday and the bizarre.

Jane was a very ordinary woman visited by an inner voice telling her to prepare for heaven by jumping. She gained followers, endured persecution, confronted the bishop, and at last died happy.

Blake was just one influence. Burne-Jones had made books inspired by the medieval illuminated manuscript tradition, like this Golden Legend. It was all part of the movement for recapturing the tradition of craftsmanship and handmade artefacts.

Medieval artists who worked with woodcuts, like Durer and Cranach showed Housman what the medium could achieve.

Pre-Raphaelites like Millais encouraged him to show drooping fair ladies.

Gustave Dore invited him to use dramatic lighting effects and contorted bodies.

Laurence drew himself being pulled in different directions by four particular influences: "Rossetti and Morris on the one hand, and Ricketts and A. B. Houghton on the other."

I want to look at one picture that seems untypical of L H's style. It shows The Galloping Plough, a story by Laurence himself. The story is fantasy, evidently telling of a plough that came to life and took off, creating havoc as it went, but the picture is a straightforward portrayal of the fantastic events. There in the centre is the galloping plough,

with its rider, wild with the thrill, or fear,

leaving the farmer exasperated at the destruction

and the piglets running for their lives.

I say that this picture is untypical, because what Housman added was often a sense of strangeness, of otherness, of unease. His escape into fairyland could not bring him pure peace and happiness. He would find those later, in the friendship of the Clarks, in the beauty of the Street countryside, and in Quakerism.

Consider this picture of lovers in each other's arms. We could compare it with a recent illustration for 'Is my team ploughing?' which also shows lovers in each other's arms with a scene above.

Laurence Housman's lovers have a dream, which might almost be one of those baroque ceiling paintings of heaven, filled with happy figures - - but look beyond the edge of the dream, and dark, mysterious hands seem to be holding it, controlling it. They take away any sense of peaceful enjoyment, such as the Shropshire Lad illustration suggests, despite the bitter-sweet of: I cheer a dead man's sweetheart.

I have strayed from my chronological survey of Housman's illustrations. Let me return to it. All his important work was done in a decade. Jump to Glory Jane came out in 1892.

The following year he illustrated Goblin Market. This strange poem, by the author of 'In the bleak midwinter', Christina Rossetti, has none of the simplicity of the carol. Arthur Mee included it in his Children's Encyclopedia, thinking it a children's poem, but post-Freudians can scarcely read it without seeing very clear sexual undertones. If it is a long time since you read it, may I remind you that two sisters, Laura and Lizzie, hear every day the voices of little goblin men calling their wares - fruits of countless varieties. They know they must not yield and go after the forbidden fruit: (The illustration on the right is by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the author's brother.)

"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits."

But Laura, buys fruit at the price of a golden curl, and when she can get no more, is pining away for longing. Lizzie, remembering Jeanie who has died in such a plight, determines to brave the goblins and buy fruit for her sister.

Here are the lines when the goblins turn nasty, with LH's illustrations for the whole poem. The whole poem is available here. Most of the illustrations have been hand coloured.

"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie,
"Give me much and many"; --
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.

"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,"
They answered grinning;
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us."

"Thank you," said Lizzie; "but one waits
At home alone for me:
So, without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee."

They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.

Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

Christina Rossetti did not like the illustrations. The goblins were made too nasty. Housman was downcast. But these illustrations are considered his masterpiece. He has found a style, and the poem, with its uneasy undertones, exactly matches his own troubled personality. One authority on illustration writes:

"When Goblin Market is mentioned Housman's intense images usually come to mind rather than Rossetti's."

They took the poem as far as was possible in that direction. By the time Arthur Rackham came to illustrate it in the 1920s, the taste was for prettiness once more.

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