WILLIAM SHARP (FIONA MACLEOD) A MEMOIR COMPILED BY HIS WIFE ELIZABETH A. SHARP by ELIZABETH A. SHARP (best ebook reader ubuntu txt) đ
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time, you have been reformed for four days. Your announcement that you
intend to stay reformed is fine in its way. What a noble imagination
you have! I am glad that you tolerate my âintroduction.â As Kate wrote
you, I was very wretchedâunluckily for youâwhen it was written. I wish
that it were better in itself and more worthy of you. But the milk
is spilled. The book will look very well, I think.... Your programme
for the ensuing year fills me with longing. Even the London poorhouse
at the end of it donât alarm me. Colonel Newcome was brought up in a
poorhouseâor a place of that nature; and, even without such a precedent
I should be willing to go to a poor-house for a while after such a
glorious year. Joy and good luck attend you, my dear fellow, as you go
upon your gay way!...
Always yours,
A. J.
_A Fellowe and his Wife_ had in the early spring been published in
America and England, and also in the Tauchnitz Collection, and had
a flattering reception in both countries. It had been preceded in
February by the _Life and Letters of Joseph Severn_ published by
Messrs. Sampson Low & Co.
Among various articles written during the early summer for the
_Academy_ were one on Philip Marston, and one on Maeterlinck; and in
the July number of the _Forum_ was an appreciation of Thomas Hardyâto
whom he had made a flying visit in March.
In acknowledgment he received the following note from the novelist:
MAX GATE, DORCHESTER,
July, 1892.
MY DEAR SHARP,
It did give me a great deal of pleasure to read the article in the
_Forum_, and what particularly struck me was your power of grasping
the characteristics of this district and people in a few hours visit,
during which, so far as I could see, you were not observing anything. I
wish the execution of the novels better justified the generous view you
take.
Yours sincerely,
THOMAS HARDY.
Our delightful plans for the autumn were not carried out; for, during
a visit to the art critic, J. Stanley Little, at Rudgwick, Sussex, my
husband saw a little cottage which attracted him and we decided to take
it as a _pied-Ă -terre_. Pending negotiations we stayed with Mr. and
Mrs. Caird at Northbrook, Micheldever, where W. S. began to plan out
the scheme of a new quarterly Review that was âto be the expression of
a keen pagan delight in nature.â I quote from his Diary:
â_June 2nd, 1892._ In early forenoon, after some pleasant dawdling,
began to write the Italian story, âThe Rape of the Sabines,â which I
shall print in the first instance in my projected _White Review_ as
by James Marazion. After tea wrote about a page or so more of story.
Then went a walk up to One-Tree-Hill. Saw several hares. The Cuckoo
was calling till after 9 oâclock. Noticed that the large white moths
fluttered a long time in one spot above the corn. Wild pigeons go to
roost sooner than rooks, apparently. Got back about 9.30, and then
finished âThe Rape of the Sabinesâ (about 4,500 words).
â_Friday 3rd._ After breakfast went for a brisk walk of over four
miles. Then worked, slowly, till lunch, at opening of âThe Pagansâ
(afterwards to be called âGood-Bye, my Fancyâ). Then walked to the
station by the fields and back by the road (another 4 miles). Then
worked about an hour more on âThe Pagans.â Have done to-day, in all,
from 1,200 to 1,500 words of it. While walking in the afternoon thought
out âThe Oreadâ and also the part of it which I shall use in the _White
Review_ by Charles Verlayne.
_Saty 4th._ Did rest of âThe Pagans.â In afternoon did first part of
âThe Oread.â
_Sunday 5th._ Finished âOread.â
_Tuesday 7th._ Went down to Rudgwick, Sussex, by appointment, and
agreed to take the cottage on a 3-yearsâ lease.â
Regretfully the wanderings in the Highlands had to be postponed
although the projector of the Review went for a time to Loch Goil
with a friend and I to Bayreuth. In August we settled in the little
eight-roomed cottage, near Rudgwick, with a little porch, an orchard
and garden, and small lawn with a chestnut tree in its midst. We
remained at Phenice Croft two years and took much pleasure in the
little green enclosure that was our own. The views from it were not
extensive. A stretch of fields and trees lay in front of the house,
and from the side lawn we could see an old mill whose red brick roof
had been weathered to picturesque shades of green. Phenice Croft stood
at the edge of a little hamlet called Buckâs Green, and across the
road from our garden gate stood the one shop flanked by a magnificent
poplar tree, that made a landmark however far we might wander. It was
a perpetual delight to us. William Sharp settled down at once to the
production of his quarterly to be called, finally, _The Pagan Review_,
edited by himself as W. H. Brooks. As he had no contributors, for he
realised he would have to attract them, he himself wrote the whole of
the Contents under various pseudonyms. It was published on August
15th, 1892; the cover bore the motto âSic transit gloria Grundiâ and
this list of contents:
_The Black Madonna_ By W. S. Fanshawe
[This dramatic Interlude was afterwards included in _Vistas_.]
_The Coming of Love_ By George Gascoign
[Republished posthumously in _Songs Old and New_.]
_The Pagans_: a Romance By William Dreeme
[Never finished.]
_An Untold Story_ By Lionel Wingrave
[Sonnets afterwards printed in _Songs Old and New_.]
_The Rape of the Sabines_ By James Marazion
_The Oread_ By Charles Verlayne
_Dionysos in India_ By William Windover
_Contemporary Record._
_Editorial._
The Editorial announced a promised article on âThe New Paganismâ from
the pen of H. P. SiwÀarmill, but it was never written.
As the _Foreword_ gives an idea, not only of the Editorâs project, but
also of his mental attitude at that momentâa sheer revelling in the
beauty of objective life and nature, while he rode for a brief time on
the crest of the wave of health and exuberant spirits that had come to
him in Italy after his long illness and convalescenceâI reprint it in
its entirety.
Editorial prefaces to new magazines generally lay great stress on the
effort of the directorate, and all concerned, to make the forthcoming
periodical popular.
We have no such expectation: not even, it may be added, any such
intention. We aim at thorough-going unpopularity: and there is every
reason to believe that, with the blessëd who expect little, we shall not
be disappointed.
* * *
In the first place, _The Pagan Review_ is frankly pagan: pagan in
sentiment, pagan in convictions, pagan in outlook. This being so, it is
a magazine only for those who, with Mr. George Meredith, can exclaim in
all sincerityâ
âO sir, the truth, the truth! isât in the skies,
Or in the grass, or in this heart of oursâ
But O, the truth, the truth!...ââ
and at the same time, and with the same author, are not unready to admit
that truth to life, external and internal, very often
â... is not meat
For little people or for fools.â
To quote from Mr. Meredith once more:
â... these things are life:
And life, they say, is worthy of the Muse.â
But we are well aware that this is just what âtheyâ _donât_ say. âThey,â
âthe general public,â care very little about the âMuseâ at all; and
the one thing they never advocate or wish is that the âMuseâ should be
so indiscreet as to really withdraw from life the approved veils of
Convention.
Nevertheless, we believe that there is a by no means numerically
insignificant public to whom _The Pagan Review_ may appeal; though
our paramount difficulty will be to reach those who, owing to various
circumstances, are out of the way of hearing aught concerning the most
recent developments in the world of letters.
* * *
_The Pagan Review_ conveys, or is meant to convey, a good deal by its
title. The new paganism is a potent leaven in the yeast of the âyounger
generation,â without as yet having gained due recognition, or even any
sufficiently apt and modern name, any scientific designation. The ânew
paganism,â the âmodern epicureanism,â and kindred appellations, are more
or less misleading. Yet, with most of us, there is a fairly definite
idea of what we signify thereby. The religion of our forefathers has not
only ceased for us personally, but is no longer in any vital and general
sense a sovereign power in the realm. It is still fruitful of vast good,
but it is none the less a power that was, rather than a power that is.
The ideals of our forefathers are not our ideals, except where the
accidents of time and change can work no havoc. A new epoch is about to
be inaugurated, is, indeed, in many respects, already begun; a new epoch
in civil law, in international comity, in what, vast and complex though
the issues be, may be called Human Economy. The long half-acknowledged,
half-denied duel between Man and Woman is to cease, neither through
the victory of hereditary overlordship nor the triumph of the far more
deft and subtle if less potent weapons of the weaker, but through a
frank recognition of copartnery. This new comradeship will be not less
romantic, less inspiring, less worthy of the chivalrous extremes of
life and death, than the old system of overlord and bondager, while it
will open perspectives of a new-rejoicing humanity, the most fleeting
glimpses of which now make the hearts of true men and women beat with
gladness. Far from wishing to disintegrate, degrade, abolish marriage,
the ânew paganismâ would fain see that sexual union become the flower of
human life. But, first, the rubbish must be cleared away; the anomalies
must be replaced by just inter-relations; the sacredness of the
individual must be recognised; and women no longer have to look upon
men as usurpers, men no longer to regard women as spiritual foreigners.
* * *
These remarks, however, must not be taken too literally as indicative of
the literary aspects of _The Pagan Review_. Opinions are one thing, the
expression of them another, and the transformation or reincarnation of
them through indirect presentment another still.
This magazine is to be a purely literary, not a philosophical,
partisan, or propagandist periodical. We are concerned here with the
new presentment of things rather than with the phenomena of change
and growth themselves. Our vocation, in a word, is to give artistic
expression to the artistic âinwardnessâ of the new paganism; and we
voluntarily turn aside here from such avocations as chronicling every
ebb and flow of thought, speculating upon every fresh surprising
derelict upon the ocean of manâs mind, or expounding well or ill the
new ethic. If those who sneer at the rallying cry, âArt for Artâs
sake,â laugh at our efforts, we are well content; for even the lungs
of donkeys are strengthened by much braying. If, on the other hand,
those who, by vain pretensions and paradoxical clamour, degrade Art by
making her merely the more or less seductive panoply of mental poverty
and spiritual barrenness, care to do a grievous wrong by openly and
blatantly siding with us, we are still content; for we recognise that
spiritual byways and mental sewers relieve the Commonwealth of much that
is unseemly and might breed contagion. _The Pagan Review_, in a word,
is to be a mouthpieceâwe are genuinely modest enough to disavow the
definite articleâof the younger generation, of the new pagan sentiment,
rather, of the younger generation. In its pages there will be found
a free exposition of the myriad aspects of life, in each instance as
adequately as possible reflective of the mind and literary temperament
of the writer. The pass-phrase of the new paganism is ours: _Sic transit
gloria Grundi_. The supreme interest of Man isâWoman: and the most
profound and fascinating problem to Woman is, Man. This being so, and
quite unquestionably so with all the male and female pagans of our
acquaintance, it is natural that literature dominated by the various
forces of the sexual emotion should prevail. Yet, though paramount in
attraction, it is, after all, but one among the many motive forces of
life; so we will hope not to fall into the error of some of our French
confrĂšres and be persistently and even supernaturally awake to one
functional activity and blind to the general life and interest of the
commonwealth of soul and body. It is _Life_ that we preach, if perforce
we must be taken as preachers at all; Life to the full, in all its
manifestations, in its heights and depths, precious to the uttermost
moment, not to be bartered even when maimed and weary.
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