Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, with Poems and Ballads
Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, with Poems and Ballads
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Overview
Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside occupies a distinctive and somewhat notorious place within George Meredith’s already unique body of work. Modern Love is now best known for the emotionally intense sonnet cycle which Meredith’s own contemporaries dismissed as scandalously confessional and indiscreet. While individual sonnets from the work have been anthologized, the complete cycle is rarely included and the original edition has not been reprinted since its first appearance in 1862. This edition restores the original publication and supplements it with a range of accompanying materials that will re-introduce Meredith’s astonishing collection of poetry to a new generation of readers.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780300189100 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Yale University Press |
| Publication date: | 01/08/2013 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 6 MB |
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Read an Excerpt
MODERN LOVE AND POEMS OF THE ENGLISH ROADSIDE, WITH POEMS AND BALLADS
By George Meredith
Yale UNIVERSITY PRESS
Copyright © 2012 Yale UniversityAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-300-17317-8
Chapter One
Grandfather BridgemanI.
"Heigh, boys!" cried Grandfather Bridgeman, "it's time before
dinner to-day."
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thump'd a surprising "Hurrah!"
Up jump'd all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in
his throat,
Said, "Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the
note."
The old man glared at him harshly, and, twinkling made answer:
"Too bad!
"John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water,
my lad!"
II.
But soon it was known thro' the house, and the house ran over
for joy,
That news, good news, great marvels, had come from the
solider boy;
Young Tom, the luckless scapegrace, the offshoot of Methodist
John;
His grandfather's evening tale, whom the old man hail'd as his son.
And the old man's shout of pride was a shout of his victory, too;
For he call'd his affection a method: the neighbours' opinions he
knew.
III.
Meantime, from the morning table, removing the stout breakfast
cheer,
The drink of the three generations, the milk, the tea, and the beer,
(Alone in its generous reading of pints stood the Grandfather's jug)
The women for sight of the missive came pressing to coax and
to hug.
He scatter'd them quick, with a buss and a smack; thereupon he
began
Diversions with John's little Sarah: on Sunday, the naughty
old man!
IV.
Then messengers sped to the maltster, the auctioneer, miller,
and all
The seven sons of the farmer who housed in the range of his call.
Likewise the married daughters, three plentiful ladies, prime cooks,
Who bow'd to him while they condemned, in meek hope to stand
high in his books.
"John's wife is a fool at a pudding," they said, and the light carts
up hill
Went merrily, flouting the Sabbath: for puddings well made mend
a will.
V.
The day was a van-bird of summer: the robin still piped, but the
blue,
A warm and dreamy palace with voices of larks ringing thro,'
Look'd down as if wistfully eyeing the blossoms that fell from
its lap:
A day to sweeten the juices: a day to quicken the sap!
All round the shadowy orchard sloped meadows in gold, and the
dear
Shy violets breathed their hearts out: the maiden breath of the year!
VI.
Full time there was before dinner to bring fifteen of his blood,
To sit at the old man's table: they found that the dinner was good.
But who was she by the lilacs and pouring laburnums conceal'd,
When under the blossoming apple the chair of the Grandfather
wheel'd?
She heard one little child crying, "Dear, brave Cousin Tom!" as it
leapt:
Then murmur'd she: "Let me spare them!" and pass'd round the
walnuts, and wept.
VII.
Yet not from sight had she slipped ere sharp feminine eyes could
detect
The figure of Mary Charlworth. "It's just what we all might
expect,"
Was utter'd: and: "Didn't I tell you?" Of Mary the rumour
resounds,
That she is now her own mistress, and mistress of five thousand
pounds.
'Twas she, they say, who cruelly sent young Tom to the war.
Miss Mary, we thank you now! If you knew what we're thanking
you for!
VIII.
But, "Have her in: let her hear it," call'd Grandfather Bridgeman,
elate,
While Mary's black-gloved fingers hung trembling with flight on
the gate.
Despite the women's remonstrance, two little ones, lighter than
deer,
Were loosed, and Mary imprison'd, her whole face white as a tear,
Came forward with culprit footsteps. Her punishment was to
commence:
The pity in her pale visage they read in a different sense.
IX.
"You perhaps may remember a fellow, Miss Charlworth, a sort of
black sheep,"
The old man tuned his tongue to ironical utterance deep:
"He came of a Methodist dad, so it wasn't his fault if he kick'd.
"He earn'd a sad reputation, but Methodists are mortal strict.
"His name was Tom, and, dash me! but Bridgeman I think you
might add:
"Whatever he was, bear in mind that he came of a Methodist dad."
X.
This prelude dismally lengthen'd, till Mary, starting, exclaim'd,
"A letter, Sir, from your grandson?" "Tom Bridgeman that rascal is
named,"
The old man answer'd, and further, the words that sent Tom to the
ranks,
Repeated as words of a person to whom they all owed mighty
thanks.
But Mary never blush'd: with her eyes on the letter, she sate,
And twice interrupting him falter'd, "The date, may I ask, Sir, the
date?"
XI.
"Why, that's what I never look at in a letter," the farmer replied:
"Facts first! and now I'll be parson." The Bridgeman women
descried
A quiver on Mary's eyebrows. One turn'd, and while shifting her
comb,
Said low to a sister: "I'm certain she knows more than we
about Tom.
"She wants him now he's a hero!" The same, resuming her place,
Begg'd Mary to check them the moment she found it a tedious case.
XII.
Then as a mastiff swallows the snarling noises of cats,
The voice of the farmer open'd. "'Three cheers, and off with your
hats!'
"—That's Tom! 'We've beaten them, daddy, and tough work it
was, to be sure!
"'A regular stand-up combat: eight hours smelling powder and
gore.
"'I enter'd it Serjeant-Major,'—and now he commands a salute,
"And carries the flag of old England! Heigh! see him lift his foes on
his foot!
XIII.
"—An officer! ay, Miss Charlworth, he is, or he is so to be;
"You'll own war isn't such humbug: and Glory means something,
you see.
"'But don't say a word,' he continues, 'against the brave French
any more.'
"—That stopt me: we'll now march together. I couldn't read further
before.
"That 'brave French' I couldn't stomach. He can't see their cunning
to get
"Us Britons to fight their battles, while best half the winnings
they net!"
XIV.
The old man sneer'd, and read forward. It was of that desperate
fight;—
The Muscovite stole thro' the mist-wreaths that wrapp'd the chill
Inkermann height,
Where stood our silent outposts: old England was in them that day!
O sharp work'd his ruddy wrinkles, as if to the breath of the fray
They moved! He sat bare-headed: his long hair over him slow,
Swung white as the silky bog-flowers in purple heath-hollows that
grow.
XV.
And louder at Tom's first person: acute and in thunder the 'I'
Invaded the ear with a whinny of triumph, that seem'd to defy
The hosts of the world. All heated, what wonder he little could
brook
To catch the sight of Mary's demure puritanical look?
And still as he led the onslaught, his treacherous side-shots he sent
At her who was fighting a battle as fierce, and who sat there unbent.
XVI.
"'We stood in line, and like hedgehogs the Russians, roll'd under us
thick.
"'They frighten'd me there.'—He's no coward; for when, Miss,
they came at the quick,
"The sight he swears, was a breakfast. 'My stomach felt tight: in a
glimpse
"'I saw you snoring at home with the dear cuddled-up little imps.
"'And then like the winter brickfields at midnight, hot fire
lengthen'd out.
"'Our fellows were just leash'd bloodhounds: no heart of the lot
faced about.
XVII.
"'And only that grumbler, Bob Harris, remarked that we stood one
to ten:
"'Ye fool, says Mick Grady, just tell 'em they know how to compliment
men!
"'And I sang out your old words: 'If the opposite side isn't God's,
"'Heigh! after you've counted a dozen, the pluckiest lads have the
odds.'
"'Ping-ping flew the enemies' pepper: the Colonel roar'd, Forward,
and we
"'Went at them. 'Twas first like a blanket: and then a long plunge in
the sea.
XVIII.
"'Well, now about me and the Frenchman: it happen'd I can't tell
you how:
"'And, Grandfather, hear, if you love me, and put aside
prejudice now:'
"He never says 'Grandfather'—Tom don't—unless it's a serious
thing.
"'Well, there were some pits for the rifles, just dug on our French-leaning
wing:
"'And backwards, and forwards, and backwards we went, and at
last I was vex'd,
"'And swore I would never surrender a foot when the Russians
charged next.
XIX.
"'I know that life's worth keeping.'—Ay, so it is, lad; so it is!
"'But my life belongs to a woman.'—Does that mean Her Majesty,
Miss?
"'These Russians came lumping and grinning: they're fierce at it,
though they are blocks.
"'Our fellows were pretty well pump'd, and look'd sharp for the
little French cocks.
"'Lord, didn't we pray for their crowing! when over us, on the
hill-top,
"'Behold the first line of them skipping, like kangaroos seen on
the hop!
XX.
"'That sent me into a passion, to think of them spying our flight!'
"Heigh, Tom! you've Bridgeman blood, boy! And, 'face them!' I
shouted: 'all right;
"'Sure, Serjeant, we'll take their shot dacent, like gentlemen,'
Grady replied.
"'A ball in his mouth, and the noble old Irishman dropp'd by my
side.
"'Then there was just an instant to save myself, when a short
wheeze
"'Of bloody lungs under the smoke, and a red-coat crawl'd up on
his knees.
XXI.
"Twas Ensign Baynes of our parish.' Ah, ah, Miss Charlworth,
the one
"Our Tom fought for a young lady? Come, now we've got into the
fun!
"'I shoulder'd him: he primed his pistol, and I trailed my musket,
prepared.'
"Why, that's a fine pick-a-back for ye, to make twenty Russians
look scared!
"'They came—never mind how many: we couldn't have run very
well,
"'We fought back to back:' 'face to face, our last time!' he said,
smiling, and fell.
XXII.
"'Then I strove wild for his body: the beggars saw glittering
rings,
"'Which I vow'd to send to his mother. I got some hard knocks and
sharp stings,
"'But felt them no more than an angel, or devil, except in the wind.
"'I know that I swore at a Russian for showing his teeth, and he
grinn'd
"'The harder: quick, as from heaven, a man on a horse rode
between,
"'And fired, and swung his bright sabre: I can't write you more of
the scene.
XXIII.
"'But half in his arms, and half at his stirrup, he bore me right
forth,
"'And pitch'd me among my old comrades: before I could tell south
from north,
"'He caught my hand up, and kiss'd it! Don't ever let any man
speak
"'A word against Frenchmen, I near him! I can't find his name, tho'
I seek.
"'But French, and a General, surely he was, and, God bless him!
thro' him
"'I've learnt to love a whole nation.' The ancient man paused,
winking dim.
XXIV.
A curious look, half woeful, was seen on his face as he turn'd
His eyes upon each of his children, like one who but faintly
discern'd
His old self in an old mirror. Then gathering sense in his fist,
He sounded it hard on his knee-cap. "Your hand, Tom, the French
fellow kiss'd!
"He kiss'd my boy's old pounder! I say he's a gentleman!" Straight
The letter he toss'd to one daughter; bade her the remainder relate.
XXV.
Tom properly stated his praises in facts, but the lady preferr'd,
To deck the narration with brackets, and drop her additional word.
What nobler Christian natures these women could boast, who 'twas
known,
Once spat at the name of their nephew, and now made his praises
their own!
The letter at last was finish'd, the hearers breath'd freely, and sign
Was given, 'Tom's health!'—Quoth the farmer: "Eh, Miss? are you
weak in the spine?"
XXVI.
For Mary had sunk, and her body was shaking, as if in a fit,
Tom's letter she held, and her thumb-nail the month when the letter
was writ
Fast-dinted, while she hung sobbing: "O, see, Sir, the letter is old!
"O, do not be too happy!"—"If I understand you, I'm bowl'd!"
Said Grandfather Bridgeman, "and down go my wickets!—not
happy! when here,
"Here's Tom like to marry his General's daughter—or widow—
I'll swear!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from MODERN LOVE AND POEMS OF THE ENGLISH ROADSIDE, WITH POEMS AND BALLADS by George Meredith Copyright © 2012 by Yale University. Excerpted by permission of Yale UNIVERSITY PRESS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
List of Plates viii
Note on the Text ix
Acknowledgments xi
List of Abbreviations xiii
George Meredith: A Brief Chronology xvi
Introduction xxi
Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, with Poems and Ballads
Grandfather Bridgeman 3
The Meeting 19
Modern Love 21
Roadside Philosophers 73
Juggling Jerry 75
The Old Chartist 80
The Beggar's Soliloquy 87
The Patriot Engineer 93
Poems and Ballads 99
Cassandra 101
The Young Usurper 107
Margaret's Bridal-Eve 108
Marian 116
The Head of Bran 118
By Morning Twilight 122
Autumn Even-Song 124
Unknown Fair Faces 126
Phantasy 127
Shemselnihar 135
[A roar thro' the tall twin elm-trees] 138
[When I would image her features] 139
[I chafe at darkness in the night] 140
By the Rosanna 141
Ode to the Spirit of Earth in Autumn 148
The Doe: A Fragment (From "Wandering Willie") 157
Contexts
Contemporary Reactions 175
Unsigned Review, Parthenon (1862) 176
R. H. Hutton, Spectator (1861) 180
J. W. Marston, Athenaeum (1862) 185
A. C. Swinburne, Spectator (1862) 189
Frederick Maxse, Morning Post (1862) 193
From Unsigned Review, Westminster Review (1862) 199
Unsigned Review, Saturday Review (1863) 201
William Sharp, from Sonnets of This Century (1886) 206
Arthur Symons, from Westminster Review (1887) 208
From Unsigned Review, Travelers Record (1892) 211
Advice Manuals and Social Commentary 215
Sarah Stickney Ellis, from The Wives of England (1843) 217
William Cobbett, from Advice to Young Men, and (Incidentally) to Young Women, in the Middle and Higher Ranks of Life (1862) 226
John Paget, from "The English Law of Divorce" (1856) 234
John Ruskin, from Sesame and Lilies (1865) 241
John Smart Mill, from The Subjection of Women (1869) 247
On The Senses 251
Alexander Bain, from The Senses and the Intellect (1855) 253
A. B. Johnson, from The Physiology of the Senses (1856) 260
George Wilson, from The Five Senses (1860) 268
Nineteenth-Century Poetics 277
Arthur Henry Hallam, from "On Some of the Characteristics of Modern Poetry" (1831) 280
Matthew Arnold, from "Preface" to Poems (1853) 285
Gerald Massey, from "Poetry-The Spasmodists" (1858) 296
Henry James, from "Charles Baudelaire" (1876) 308
Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Author's Preface" (1883) 315
Gerard Manley Hopkins, Letter on "Harry Ploughman" (1887) 320
Other Poetry 323
John Keats, from "Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain …" (1817) and "On the Sea" (1817) 325
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, from Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850) 328
Coventry Patmore, from The Angel in the House (1854-62) 331
Charles Baudelaire, "Causerie" (1857) 341
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, from Maud (1859) 344
Christina Rossetti, from "Monna Innominata: A Sonnet of Sonnets" (1881) 348
Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Harry Ploughman" (1887) 353
Textual Variants 357
Suggestions for Further Reading 381
Index of First Lines 385
Subject Index 387