Scottish singing

Monday, January 7th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

2,000 words of "The Pretty Lady" on Saturday. 2,000 word article for Daily News yesterday, and a bad night in between.

Sundry officers, including Saunders, Jacob and Cummings, dined on Saturday night, and the delight of these two last in singing more or less at sight good and bad songs from the "Scottish Students' Song Book", to my bad accompaniment, was most extraordinary.

The Scottish Students' Song Book Committee was set up in December 1889 with the aim of producing a collection of songs for use by students. The lack of such a collection had long been felt in Scotland. The Scottish Students' Song Book went on sale in March 1891 and was an immediate success, selling out in three weeks. Later editions appeared in 1892 and 1897. The great success of the book made it necessary to form a limited company in 1891 which produced several editions of the Song Book and its companion The British Students' Song Book (1912). Since 1891, some 400,000 copies had been sold. Published by Bayley & Ferguson - 1892 3rd edition 200+ songs set to tablature. Measures 10.75 inches x 8 inches. Hardback book with gilt and pictorial front board

Last night Richard was talking about being set to learn 40 lines of "L'Allegro" in 45 minutes prep, and to write essays in ten minutes. What a fool of a master.

I couldn't find my Milton, but on offering a reward of 6d., Richard found it. I re-read some of "Paradise Lost", and thought it very fine and interesting. The remarks of Adam and the Angel about the relations of man and wife have not yet been beaten for sense.

Adam explains to the angel Raphael that he is overcome with love and desire for Eve because of her physical beauty. He knows that Eve is less close to God than he, but he feels literally weakened by her attractiveness. Raphael takes issue with Adam, explaining that Eve has been created as his inferior. She is outwardly beautiful, but on the interior, spiritually, she is not Adam's equal. Raphael adds that Adam's love for Eve must rise above mere sexual desire. While once again admitting his physical attraction to Eve, Adam says that he loves her for more than the fulfillment of sexual passion. He says that his real love for Eve comes from their spiritual and intellectual companionship. Eve's attitude toward the conversation between Adam and Raphael is frequently misunderstood. She walks away as a discussion of planetary motion begins, and some readers have assumed that the subject is beyond her female understanding. However, Milton says directly that such is not the case. Rather, Eve prefers to hear the explanation privately and directly from Adam. This explanation is consistent with Milton's attitude toward Eve and women in general throughout the work. Women are intellectually inferior to men but not significantly. Eve is interested in the subject, but will both enjoy the explanation more and understand it better if Adam explains it to her. This attitude also establishes the role of Eve and women as helpmates to their husbands. The husband's role is in the world; the wife's at home. But, within the privacy of the home, the two may operate on equal footing as the anticipated conversation between Adam and Eve would prove.

Literary lion

Sunday, January 6th., London.

Thinking further about my observations on Samuel Povey in the "O.W.T.", I wonder if it would not have been possible to introduce a short early scene involving Sam and perhaps one or two of the shop-girls or the servant, to establish his force of character and unique position in the establishment. The business of Constance and Sophia getting cockles and mussels from Hollins in the street doesn't seem to add much (apart from a bit of colour) to the story, and might have been usefully omitted in favour of Sam!

Henry James. At Pinkers. Very slow talker. Beautiful French. Expressed stupefaction when I said I knew nothing about the middle-class, and said the next time he saw me he would have recovered from the stupefaction, and the discussion might proceed. Said there was too much to say about everything - and that was the thing most felt by one such as he, not entirely without - er - er - er - perceptions. When I said I lay awake at nights sometimes thinking of the things I had left out of my novels, he said that all my stuff was crammed, and that when the stuff was crammed nothing more could be put in, and so it was all right. He spoke with feeling about his recent illness. "I have been very ill". Said he was now settled down in Cheyne Walk, and had one or two faithful, dependable servants, and so on. An old man, waning, but with the persistent youthfulness that all old bachelors have.

Henry James, OM (1843 – 1916) was an American-born writer, regarded as one of the key figures of 19th-century literary realism. He was the son of Henry James, Sr. and the brother of philosopher and psychologist William James. James alternated between America and Europe for the first 20 years of his life, after which he settled in England, becoming a British subject in 1915. He is primarily known for the series of novels in which he portrays the encounter of Americans with Europe and Europeans. His method of writing from the point of view of a character within a tale allows him to explore issues related to consciousness and perception, and his style in later works has been compared to impressionist painting. James contributed significantly to literary criticism, particularly in his insistence that writers be allowed the greatest possible freedom in presenting their view of the world. James claimed that a text must first and foremost be realistic and contain a representation of life that is recognisable to its readers. Good novels, to James, show life in action and are, most importantly, interesting. The concept of a good or bad novel is judged solely upon whether the author is good or bad. His imaginative use of point of view, interior monologue and possibly unreliable narrators in his own novels and tales brought a new depth and interest to narrative fiction. An extraordinarily productive writer, in addition to his voluminous works of fiction he published articles and books of travel, biography, autobiography, and criticism, and wrote plays, some of which were performed during his lifetime with moderate success. 

Commencing Clayhanger

Wednesday, January 5th., Royal York Hotel, Brighton.

This morning at 9.45 I began writing "Clayhanger". I felt less nervous and self-conscious than usual in beginning a book. And never before have I made one-quarter so many preliminary notes and investigations. I went out for a little recess, and at 1.30 I had done 1,000 words, which was very good for a first day.
We went down to the Aquarium after tea, and heard mediocre music, and saw first-rate fishes, etc., living long under highly artificial conditions.
The seals and alligators seemed to be intensely bored and sick of life, but perhaps they weren't.

Brighton Aquarium was the brainchild of Eugenius Birch, the famous pier engineer and designer of Brighton's West Pier, who conceived the idea following a visit to Boulogne Aquarium. Erected on the approach roadway to the Chain Pier, the Aquarium necessitated the construction of a new sea-wall and promenade. The whole project was completed in 1872 at a cost of £130,000, and the Aquarium was inaugurated by Prince Arthur at Easter. The Aquarium proved to be an instant success with the town's fashionable society and received many royal visitors. 

Among the early attractions was a large octopus, and in 1877 the first sea-lions arrived; the exhibition of a live Norway lobster in 1874 caused a furore! In October 1901 the building and business were purchased by the corporation for just £30,000, and Brighton Aquarium was henceforth managed as a municipal enterprise. The Aquarium's popularity  rose again as Brighton's fortunes in general revived. From 1907 until 1918 a municipal orchestra played in the conservatory which was renamed the Winter Garden.

<http://www.mybrightonandhove.org.uk/page_id__7688_path__0p115p195p898p.aspx>

Then I came back and wrote half an article for the Nation about the Hanley music-hall.
Earlier in the afternoon I went out and viewed the shore, and the launching of fishing boats. All kinds of activity in progress, spoiling to be described. But now that I am on my novel I am tied up again for six months from anything really swagger in the way of description.
Weather misty. No visible round trace of the sun. The hotel is haunted by barrel organs. In fact in various ways Brighton seems to be what London was. Its architecture is old Belgravia and Tyburnian.

I continued reading aloud from "The Old Wives Tale" last evening. I was struck by how much detail there is. On the one hand, the reader is drawn deeply into the home of the Baines's but on the other, I had a sense that some editing would have helped the story go forward without losing the sense of place. I am not so sure about the success of Samuel Povey as a character at this stage. Constance and Sophia are real, tangible creatures; Sam seems still two-dimensional. I know that his character is fleshed out successfully later, but at this stage the reader would probably not expect that he would have a major role in the remainder of the book.

The writing business

Thursday, January 4th., London.

Came to town yesterday. Lunched with Wells and his two boys, and Ross at the Reform. Ross told me, as regards inaccuracies in "Dict. National Biog.", that he offered to look through the proofs of Wilde's biography, but proofs were never sent to him. He found 18 mistakes of fact in the biography.
Gardiner, editor Daily News, suggested that I should resume writing for D.N. I said I would resume only on similar conditions as before, namely that I had a regular commission for articles, to appear at regular intervals - I didn't mind what the intervals were.

Alfred George Gardiner (1865–1946) was a British journalist and author. His essays, written under the pen-name Alpha of the Plough, are highly regarded. He was also Chairman of the National Anti-Sweating League, a pressure group which campaigned for a minimum wage in industry. He joined the Northern Daily Telegraph in 1887 which had been founded the year before by Thomas Purvis Ritzema. In 1902 Ritzema was named general manager of the Daily News. Needing an editor, he turned to his young protégé to fill the role. The choice soon proved a great success; under Gardiner's direction, it became one of the leading liberal journals of its day, as he improved its coverage of both the news and literary matters while crusading against social injustices. Yet while circulation rose from 80,000 when he joined the paper to 151,000 in 1907 and 400,000 with the introduction of a Manchester edition in 1909, the paper continued to run at a loss.

Vedrenne wrote me giving way, and agreeing to pay £200 down on receipt of MS. of a play for Eadie, for option on it. He had said to Pinker: "I have never paid and I never will pay to read a play."

John Eugene Vedrenne (1867-1930), often known as J. E. Vedrenne, was a West End theatre producer who co-managed the Savoy Theatre with Harley Granville-Barker, and then (from 1904 to 1907, also with Granville-Barker) the Royal Court Theatre. During their time at the latter, they premiered several of George Bernard Shaw's plays, including John Bull's Other Island and Major Barbara. His partnership with Granville-Barker ending in 1907, Vedrenne then became associated with Lewis Waller at the Lyric Theatre, and in 1911 with Dennis Eadie at the Royalty Theatre, and later still at the Kingsway Theatre.

http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?hl=en&sa=X&tbo=d&biw=1024&bih=629&tbm=isch&tbnid=b-3Ws0lPqEpZWM:&imgrefurl=http://www.brown.edu/Facilities/University_Library/exhibits/shaw/stage.html&docid=GDC3175UKiQ6lM&imgurl=http://www.brown.edu/Facilities/University_Library/exhibits/shaw/images/royalcourt2.gif&w=300&h=392&ei=iQDnUPeTJIqb0QXov4GABw&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=636&sig=114687906414046325319&page=1&tbnh=146&tbnw=111&start=0&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0,i:94&tx=27&ty=68

On artistry

Tuesday, January 3rd., London.

At the Burne-Jones exhibition; I was much impressed by the whole thing, and especially by the superb richness and spirituality of the early "Annunciation" (two panels) and the "Adoration of the Magi", all three pictures being dated 1861. In some ways these surpass, or at least equal, any subsequent work.

The major memorial exhibition of Burne-Jones’s work was held at the New Gallery in the winter of 1898 to 1899.




The photographs reproduced shows some of Burne-Jones’s Stanmore Hall tapestries, drawings for King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid as well as the   huge unfinished canvas of the Car of Love.



They also provides a visual record of the interior of the New Gallery, which from 1888 was Burne-Jones’s preferred gallery and which offered a sympathetic venue to decorative and symbolic painting until its closure in 1909.




The managers of the Gallery were Charles Halle and Joseph Comyns Carr who had both resigned from the Grosvenor Gallery when changes in its management made it less sympathetic to artists. The New Gallery building was converted from a livery stable at the south end of Regent Street.

<http://www.leicestergalleries.com/19th-20th-century-paintings/d/photograph-of-the-burne-jones-memorial-exhibition-/14647>

The sight of Burne-Jones's aloofness, of his continual preoccupation with the spiritual, to the ignoring of everyday facts, served to complete in me a modification of view which has been proceeding now for a year or two. The day of my enthusiasm for 'realism', for 'naturalism', has passed. I can perceive that a modern work of fiction dealing with modern life may ignore realism and yet be great. To find beauty, which is always hidden; that is the aim. If beauty is found then superficial facts are of small importance. But they are of some importance. And although I concede that in the past I have attached too high a value to realism, nevertheless I see no reason why it should be dispensed with. My desire is to depict the deeper beauty while abiding by the envelope of facts. At the worst the facts should not be ignored. They might, for the sake of more clearly disclosing the beauty, suffer a certain distortion - I can't think of a better word. In deed they cannot be ignored in the future. The achievements of the finest French writers, with Turgenev and Tolstoy, have set a standard for all coming masters of fiction.
What the artist has to grasp is that there is no such thing as ugliness in the world. This I believe to be true but perhaps the saying would sound less difficult in another form: All ugliness has an aspect of beauty. The business of the artist is to find that aspect.

Social contrasts

Sunday, January 2nd., Royal York Hotel, Brighton.

On Friday night, our last night in London, we went to the Tivoli. There were no seats except in the pit, so we went in the pit. Little Tich was very good, and George Formby, the Lancashire comedian, was perhaps even better.

Harry Relph (1867 – 1928), known on the stage as "Little Tich", was an English music hall comedian. He was noted for the characters of The Spanish Señora, The Gendarme and The Tax Collector, but his most popular routine was his Big Boot dance, which involved a pair of 28-inch boots, commonly called "slapshoes" in the days of vaudeville. He was also popular as a pantomime dame.

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpoGy_WIcCY>

George Formby (1875 – 1921), born James Lawler Booth, was an English comedian and musician. He was a star in Edwardian music halls, singing and clowning in a sardonic style that influenced the young Charlie Chaplin. Formby was plagued by ill-health and suffered from tuberculosis, but despite this was one of the highest paid entertainers of his day. His son was the popular comedian and ukulele player who also used the stage name George Formby.

Gus Ellen I did not care for. And I couldn't see the legendary cleverness of the vulgarity of Marie Lloyd. She was very young and spry for a grandmother. All her songs were variations on the theme of sexual naughtiness. No censor would ever pass them, and especially he wouldn't pass her winks and her silences.

Marie Lloyd (1870 – 1922), born Matilda Alice Victoria Wood, was an English music hall singer, comedienne and musical theatre actress during the late Victorian era. She was perhaps best known for her many songs based on everyday subjects for working-class women, including "The Boy I Love Is Up in the Gallery", her first major success, "My Old Man (Said Follow the Van)" and "Oh Mr Porter What Shall I Do". She received much criticism for her use of innuendo and double entendre during her performances, but enjoyed a long and prosperous career and was affectionately called the "Queen of the Music Hall" by her audiences.

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iAVTJFHwZY>

To be noted also was the singular naivete of the cinematograph explanation of what a vampire was and is, for the vampire dance. The stoutest and biggest attendants laughed at Little Tich and G Formby. Fearful draughts half the time down exit staircases from the street. Fearful noise from the bar behind, made chiefly by officials. The bar-girls and their friends simply ignored the performance and the public. Public opinion keeps the seats of those who go to the bar at the interval for a drink.
Going home, stopped by procession of full carriages entering the Savoy and empty carriages coming out of it.

We came down to Brighton by the 1.55 on Saturday, to the Royal York. In the afternoon I called at the Exeter to learn the terms there, as Farrar had recommended it. When I gave the landlord my card, he started back, let his hands fall, and said "My God! Is it you?" This was the first landlord of my acquaintance who had ever read anything, much less a book of mine. He seemed to know me pretty thoroughly. I gave him my card at the end of the interview, and then the interview had to begin all over again.
However, we didn't go to the Exeter, as when it came to the point the celebrated Harry Preston of this celebrated hotel would not let me go. He agreed to my terms.

Originally built in 1771 as houses, the building was converted into a hotel in 1819, and was named Royal York after the Regent's brother, Frederick, Duke of York. In 1901 the hotel was bought by the charismatic Harry Preston, who extended the building and modernised the hotel dramatically. He was a famous bantam-weight amateur boxer and was friends with many of the great sportsmen of his day, such as W. G. Grace. As a result, many of these famous friends became regular guests at The Royal York. Other celebrities of the time also stayed at the hotel, including Wilbur Wright soon after his first flight as did many of the biggest names in theatre and entertainment such as Sir Henry Wood. In 1910, Mr Lloyd George entertained friends at the Royal York, as it was renowned for its excellent food and wine.

Our first stroll along the front impressed me very favourable, yesterday afternoon. But I am obsesssed by the thought that all this comfort, luxury, ostentation and correctness, is founded on a vast injustice to the artisan-class. I can never get away from this. The furs, autos, fine food, attendance, and diamond rings of this hotel only impress it on me even more.

This morning I worked genuinely for an hour on the construction of the first part of my novel.
Last night I was reading aloud from "The Old Wives Tale", my first re-reading for some years. The introductory section setting the Square within the district, the district within the county, and the county within the country is really very well done. Also the two girls (Constance and Sophia) are quickly and successfully established as believable characters. My experience at Woman has been invaluable in the matter of feminine taste and fashion I find! I find reading aloud difficult, but enjoyable and hope to improve with practice. I am reading from the manuscript facsimile which adds a little to the difficulty (the occasional word is hard to make out) but enhances the experience. Some pleasing alliterative phrases.

In today's Evening Standard article I wrote that I have reconciled myself to the fact that I cannot read everything, or ten percent of everything. I never begin a book unless I think it will interest me, and I never finish a book unless it actually does interest me. Such is my literary rule of life, and there is no exception to it unless I think that a book has been so much over-valued, or will so acutely exasperate me, that I am likely to be moved to invective and violent dispraise. This does not happen often. In fact many people say that frequently I am too kindly towards books. I do not agree, addicted though I certainly am to what Swinburne called "the noble pleasure of praising".

Measles

Sunday, January 1st., London.

During the final quarter of last year I produced about twice as much work as in any previous similar period. I wrote two thirds of a serial story, four or five short stories, a lot of reviews for the Academy, and all my usual stuff for Woman and Hearth and Home.
I was sound asleep at midnight and missed the customary fireworks, which were, apparently, particularly noisy. The benefit was that I woke this morning feeling rested and refreshed, and the sun was shining. Susan and I went for a lengthy walk. Clear, pale blue sky. Excellent visibility. Sense of expansiveness. Even a hint of warmth in the sun every now and then. Hungry when we got home and made an excellent lunch of left-over chicken. Feeling quite tired now.
Mrs. Kennerley was here today to have tea with Ma. She said, speaking of the diseases of children: "We never used to think of having the doctor for measles. I had all my children down at once. We kept them in the sitting-room during the day, and carried them upstairs at night. They went on quite well. It is different now. People seem to be more afraid, but we never used to think of the doctor in those days."
"Those days" would be 15 or 16 years ago.