Laurence Housman
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The view from under the table (2)
A talk given to the Housman Society in Street Library by David Parsons, 22 June 2005
Next year, 1894, LH illustrated two books of fairy stories, one by Jane Barlow, the Land of Elfintoun, and one by himself, Farm in Fairyland. First, his own stories. His style is very different from the goblin pictures. There, it was bold; here it is delicate. This title page is all elegance, the lady stepping from a contemporary garden party.
The frontispiece also is elegant, but the fair ladies are beyond the reach of the man who watches them beyond the dividing hedge.
Is it fanciful to see an echo of the boy under the table, unable to be a part of the interesting things happening above his head? 
Then what about this picture, from the tale of the Horse with the Hump? Don't you feel with the girl down in the water,
conscious of all the staring faces above, apart from them, not part of their world? 
I have not read the story Japonel, but something strange is happening here. Yes, it is a girl beside a pool in a forest, an innocent enough subject. But are those really her arms reflected in the water, or is some creature reaching up to her?
And why are the birds so prominent?
And what on earth has happened to this person, huddled in the water, apparently drinking? It is a disturbing image.
The other 1894 book, Land of Elfintoun, is done in a different style again. Here is the council of elves. How would LH have fared with the Lord of the Rings?
This illustrates Flitting, but could the wastes of Mordor lie out there? 
And are these sleepers in danger from Gollum? 
In 1895 Housman published his own stories, illustrated by himself, called The House of Joy.
We have seen this picture before. It illustrates The Happy Return, but the threat in the dark tones, the turned-away figure in the foreground, and the grotesquely posing boatman assort oddly with the story's title. 
Luck of Roses tells how some red roses turned white in grief when the owner of the garden died. It was dedicated to Clemence. This night-dark picture has a sense of foreboding.
In 1896 Clemence published her story, The Werewolf, which has been called "Semiallegorical, reminiscent of the work of William Morris.... One of the best werewolf stories;" and Laurence published his first book of Poetry, Green Arras. Both books were illustrated by Laurence, each in a very different style. 
Let's look at the illustrations for Werewolf. Here's a familiar image, now in the context in which it was published. The story starts in "The great farm hall ... ablaze with the fire-light, and noisy with laughter and talk."
"A few moments later Sweyn of the long legs felt a small hand caressing his foot, and looking down met the up-turned eyes of his little cousin Rol. Lying on his back, still softly patting and stroking the young man's foot, the child was quiet and happy for a good while. He watched the movements of the strong, deft hands and the shifting of the bright tools. Now and then minute chips of wood puffed off by Sweyn fell down upon his face. At last he raised himself very gently lest a jog should wake impatience in the carver, and crossing his own legs round Sweyn's ankle, clasping with his arms too, laid his head against the knee. Such an act is evidence of a child's most wonderful hero worship. Quite content was Rol, and more than content when Sweyn paused a minute to joke and pat his head and pull his curls. Quiet he remained, as long as quiescence is possible to limbs young as his, Sweyn forgot he was near, hardly noticed when his leg was gently released, and never saw the stealthy abstraction of one of his tools." . When Laurence read his sister's words, it is not surprising that he thought back to his own childhood, and his own hero-worship of Alfred. (By the way, it came as a great surprise and comfort to Laurence, when Alfred died and he had to deal with his affairs, to find that Alfred had bought every one of his brother's books - books which Laurence had been too shy to give him.) 
A mysterious beautiful girl comes to the hall, and shortly afterwards Christian comes in, having hunted a wolf to the doorstep. He realises that the beautiful girl is a werewolf, but in an urgent whispered conversation cannot convince his brother Sweyn, who has fallen in love with her. But she brings death to those she kisses, starting with little Rol. When Christian finds that Sweyn, too, has kissed her, he sets out to save his brother.
He cannot kill the werewolf in human form - it is unthinkable to kill a woman - and so he races with her until she should become a wolf. She attacks him with an axe. 
Meanwhile Sweyn, thinking that his brother is a rival for her love, chases after them.
He finds his brother dead, frozen in an attitude of crucifixion, and a great white wolf dead not far off. Apart from the first, these pictures do not work so well for me as others of Laurence's. He has chosen a style quite unlike his other work, without any of the undertones of unease that make other illustrations special. 
The other book, Green Arras, sees the more familiar LH. Incidentally, this was also the year of A Shropshire Lad. Tomorrow morning I want to try to persuade you that some lines of Laurence's poetry are fit to stand beside Alfred's (see anthology here), but today we'll just stay with the pictures. Incidentally Housman brought new standards to book cover design. The frontispiece and title page concentrate as much on decorative border as on pictures. But the picture here echoes the decorative border, and both border and picture seem to keep secrets. You might be reminded of Celtic interlacing, but it also has echoes of Art Nouveau curling vines. 
This is something Laurence enjoyed making. When he made bookplates he liked to use similar techniques.... 
and for the illuminated capitals that he designed, different for each book. The letter A on the right is one of the set he made for a Shelley poem; the one on the left was for Green Arras. 
His illustrations have some of the mystery we have come to expect.
The Queen's Bees: the garden - and Laurence loved gardens; they reminded him of the happy times of his childhood - curves away like the best gardens into unseen nooks. 
The house builders: a place crowded with figures. I think Laurence was making use of his formal training here.
He drew figures in all kinds of attitudes... 
such as he must have practised in life class. 
The picture reminds me of 
one of the crowded canvases of the renaissance.
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