Our Fortnightly Book Review

Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 3, 31 July 1931, Unnumbered Page

Our Fortnightly Book Review

ALICE MEYNELL .

By

Viola

Meynell

THe. gifted and scholarly essayist and poet, Alice Meynell, died at dawn " on November 27, 1922, in her sleep. Her daughter, Viola, has now written the biography of her brilliant mother, who has been acclaimed as one of Britain’s ablest writers; and has brought to bear a competent literary ‘style, knowledge of social and literary conditions during the past 40 years, and great love and reverence for her subject. 4 ’. Alice Meynell was the daughter of a grave and studious father and beautiful, gay-hearted, gifted mother, who was greatly admired and loved by Charles Dickens; and the sister of Blizabeth Butler, whose fame as 2 painter: of battle pictures is world wide. Growing from a happy childhood to an introspective youth, a strain of melancholy was apparent in her early poems written before the age of twenty was reached. Soon however, came her meeting with Wilfrid Meynell, eminent English journalist, who, reading one day in the "Pall Mall Gazette" a review of "Preludes" by this brilliant girl, expressed the wish to meet the author. A friend introduced him to her parents, and he and Alice corresponded for a brief period. Very soon their engagement was announced, and a few months afterward’ came the marriage of the gifted girl with him of whom his friend, Father Lockhart, wrote: "Chivalrous in honour, tender in piety and love, faithful to the end, and true as steel in weal or woe," and his tribute was proved to be right in the years of life together of Wilfrid and Alice Meynell. Journalism and literary activities were their ayocation and delight, and the family of happy children somewhat of an episode in the Meynell menage, though a much beloved one. "The pencilling mama," as she was named by George: Meredith, sat for hours at her work, while the band of beautiful babies .scribbled in scrapbooks on the floor or edited a precocious newspaper under the table. "We were taken to her arms, but briefly; exquisitely fondled, but with economy, as if there was always work to be resumed. We were all addressed as ‘Child,’ our names being temporarily forgotten ; but our parents had a glamour for us beyond ‘the ordinary, our adoration of our mother being particularly persistent." Mrs. Meynell is revealed as a spiritual, shadowy, aloof personality, but the beauty and devotion of the home life of the Meynell menage are apparent; while the book gives an excellent summary of the published essays, poems and criticisms. Also are included extracts from Mrs. Meynell’s letters during her tour in America, in which she is discovered as primarily wife and mother, though filling important role of wage-earner through lectures and countless contributions to important periodicals. Apart from travel, recreation for Mrs. Meynell was apparently not easily come by. Never a great reader of novels, biography -She liked, and for relaxation preferred the books of O. Henry and W. W. Jacobs, which she read and read again. A curious choice, one reflects, for that deliberate, highly’ sensitive, and cultivated artist. Francis Thompson and Coventry Patmore assisted in the two papers . edited by the Meynells, and in many others of their multifarious literary activities. Between Coventry Patmore and the poetess a happy and enduring friendship existed. To him Mrs. Meynell wrote: "I have never told you what I think of your poetry. It is the greatest thing in the world, the most harrowing and the sweetest. I can hardly realise that the author is so celestially kind to me and calls me friend.", To her father, says the biographer, Francis Thompson stood for achievement to such a mighty degree that.such failures as, made the poet himself despair did not exist for him. All’ 'the world knows how Wilfrid Meynell and his sweet wife befriended the. derelict genius who, wandering London streets.in last stages of raggedness and destitution, put a packet of MSS, into the post office, for "Merry England," edited by the Meynells. His poems were printed, and a meeting ensued between the tragic author of "To a Snowflake" and Wilfrid Meynell, ; the discriminating literateur and faithful friend, which resulted in a lifelong , alliance. Through the pages drift figures of enthralling interest: Ruskin, Henley (Viking Chief of letters, worshipped by the intellectual flower of young Kngland on the other side of idolatry), Meredith, Max Beerbohm. ‘The lastnamed wrote in good-natured protest: "In a few. years’ time Mrs. Meynell will have become a sort of substitute for. the English Sabbath, Between

her and Mr. Coventry Patmore the shuttlecock of praise has flashed incessantly, and now hark! the infrequent voice of Mr. George Meredith is raised in her honour." George Meredith paid homage to Mrs. Meynell in spoken and written word and constant tribute: "Heavy double white violets, unforgettahly beautiful, he grew for my mother in a frame, to remind her of Genoa; white strawberries came to us from his garden too. An iris he loved, with pale blue petals and a golden heart, he named Alicia Coerules and kept her supplied with it." Mrs. Meynell’s later years were saddened by the Great War, which desperately wounded that sensitive spirit, Many of her most notable poems are quoted, but not the one dedicated to her husband, which first won my own love for her work:Home, home from the horizon far and clear, Hither the soft wings sweep; Flocks of the memories of the day draw near The dovecote doors of sleep. Oh, which are they that come through sweelest light Of all those homing birds? Which with the straightest and the swiftest flight? Your words to me, your words! —