Complete Works of Kenneth Grahame
Page 86
Now, whether the reviewers praised Mr. Grahame’s new book or regretted it, they were united in naming it an allegory and almost united in prophesying that, to be successful, The Wind in the Willows wanted an illustrator. In both opinions they were wrong. The new book was already a classic, and in its eighth edition, when it was illustrated, in 1913, for the first time. The artist was Paul Bransom. Later it was decorated, both in its thirteenth and sixteenth printings, by Nancy Barnhart. And again, in twenty-fifth and thirty-third editions, by Wyndham Payne. And, in 1931, Mr. Ernest H. Shepard illustrated, charmingly, the thirty-eighth blooming. Truly ‘the ditty about a toad’ had travelled far. But it was no allegory — Rat was not ‘Nature’ nor was Mole ‘Love of Home’. It was, and is, but a bedtime story, a fairy-tale, for a very little boy. And the wisest way to read it, and regard it, is the way recommended by Mr. A. A. Milne in the introduction to his play, Toad of Toad Hall, which he has adapted, of course, from The Wind in the Willows.
‘Perhaps it has happened to you, as it has certainly happened to me, that you have tried to explain a fantastic idea to an entirely matter-of-fact person. “But they don’t,” he says, and “You can’t,” and “I don’t see why, just because—” and ‘Even if you assume that—” and “I thought you said just now that he hadn’t”. By this time you have thrown the ink-pot at him, with enough of accuracy, let us hope, to save you from his ultimatum, which is this: “However fantastic your assumption, you must work it out logically” — that is to say, realistically.
‘To such a mind The Wind in the Willows makes no appeal, for it is not worked out logically. In reading the book, it is necessary to think of Mole, for instance, sometimes as an actual mole, sometimes as such a mole in human clothes, sometimes as a mole grown to human size, sometimes as walking on two legs, sometimes on four. He is a mole, he isn’t a mole. What is he? I don’t know. And, not being a matter-of-fact person, I don’t mind.’
And, even as it was with The Golden Age and Dream Days, Kenneth Grahame’s ‘fan’ mails filled his letter-box to overflowing and fairly broke the back of the Cookham Dene postman. From a very few of these letters, from literally the one or two that ask for specified information — and get it — I will quote. I have already been able to tell how Mole End was swept and garnished and how its goldfishes were cared for in the absence of Mole. But before I go on to give similar detail, I will dispose of the allegory idea for good and all. I suppose that never man perpetrated a delightful bit of sheer nonsense without suspicious folk hunting through it for allegories as he of a similar kidney hunts through a fresh green salad for slugs and caterpillars instead of just enjoying the ‘herbaceous treat’ trusting in Sydney Smith and in his own good appetite. Folk sought allegories in Foote’s Great Panjandrum and in The Hunting of the Snark. So it was natural enough that The Wind in the Willows should, in its time, be turned over and over by the discontented and the ungrateful. But its author, who must know best, in sending a presentation copy of his new book to Mr. Theodore Roosevelt writes:
‘DEAR MR. PRESIDENT, — You expressed yourself with such great kindness last year on the subject of my books that I think it possible you may care to have a copy of the English Edition of one that has just been published, so I am venturing to send you one. Its qualities, if any, are mostly negative — i.e. — no problems, no sex, no second meaning — it is only an expression of the very simplest joys of life as lived by the simplest beings of a class that you are specially familiar with and will not misunderstand.
‘Believe me, sir,
‘Yours very faithfully
‘KENNETH GRAHAME
‘To President Theodore Roosevelt,
‘The White House,
‘Washington,
‘October 10th 1908’
To which the President replied:
‘The White House,
‘Washington,
‘October 22, 1908
‘Personal
‘MY DEAR MR. GRAHAME, — The book hasn’t come, but as I have never read anything of yours yet that I haven’t enjoyed to the full, I am safe in thanking you heartily in advance. Of course it won’t have “any problems, any sex, any second meaning” — that is why I shall like it. By the way, we have just been finishing The Further Experiences of an Irish R.M. I hope you know them, and are as fond of them as we are.
‘Again heartily thanking you, and with real regret that you are not to come to this side while we are in the White House, believe me,
‘Sincerely yours,
‘THEODORE ROOSEVELT
Mr. Kenneth Grahame,
‘Mayfield,
‘Cookham Dene,
‘Berkshire, England’
And once again, some months later, the presidential pen says:
‘The White House,
‘Washington,
‘January 17, 1909
‘Personal
‘MY DEAR MR. GRAHAME, — My mind moves in ruts, as I suppose most minds do, and at first I could not reconcile myself to the change from the ever-delightful Harold and his associates, and so for some time I could not accept the toad, the mole, the water-rat and the badger as substitutes. But after a while Mrs. Roosevelt and two of the boys, Kermit and Ted, all quite independently, got hold of The Wind Among the Willows and took such a delight in it that I began to feel that I might have to revise my judgement. Then Mrs. Roosevelt read it aloud to the younger children, and I listened now and then. Now I have read it and reread it, and have come to accept the characters as old friends; and I am almost more fond of it than of your previous books. Indeed, I feel about going to Africa very much as the seafaring rat did when he almost made the water-rat wish to forsake everything and start wandering!
‘I felt I must give myself the pleasure of telling you how much we had all enjoyed your book.
‘With all good wishes,
‘Sincerely yours,
‘THEODORE ROOSEVELT
‘Mr. Kenneth Grahame,
‘16 Durham Villas,
‘Kensington W., London, England
This letter is to me an interesting one inasmuch as I have always held that no adult can get the full bouquet of The Wind in the Willows except at second hand, except through the heart of the child to whom it is read. I am happy to have my humble opinion endorsed from Washington and The White House.
And, apropos of Presidents, here is a letter from the Hon. Alfred Deakin, Prime Minister of the Commonwealth of Australia in 1903/4, 1905/8, and 1909/10.
‘Commonwealth of Australia,
‘House of Representatives,
‘January 28, 1909
‘DEAR MR. GRAHAME, — I have never been able to forgive myself for having neglected the opportunity afforded me by my only visit to the Bank of England (in 1907) of at all events acknowledging my debt and that of my family to you for The Golden Age and Dream Days, which I read to them years ago. But after The Wind in the Willows I can no longer deny myself the pleasure of congratulating you upon an even higher and still more original achievement — a prose poem perfect within its scope in style and sentiment, rising to its climax in the vision of Pan — a piece of imaginative insight to which it would be hard to find a parallel anywhere. Certainly one would only look for it among the rarest flowers of literature in that vein.
‘If this language appears to you strained, let me assure you that it is not by intention. I have read the book as a whole twice; once out loud, and passages such as that mentioned, “Mole’s Xmas Eve”, and the “Sailor Rat’s Reminiscences”, &c., several times.
‘It is now three or four weeks since I was under the glamour, so that my verdict represents what lawyers call a considered opinion, and, so far as I am concerned, is binding. Nor am I the only beneficiary; my wife and daughters were equally fascinated, as were several friends upon whose judgements I am accustomed to rely.
‘Please therefore accept this spontaneous and informal note of hand, just for what it is — an expression of gratitude and admiration from some of the many A
ustralians who find in your book a delicate and delicious insight into nature and human nature, enriched and inspired by that “natural magic” which touches the deepest chords of poetry and of the soul with the simplest and most artless sincerity.
‘As, after all, I am writing this off-hand — merely a line of thanks — I will only ask you to accept it, not as an attempt to discharge, but a recognition of, a continuing debt. When with your Governors at the Bank, my mind, alas, was full of other debts in other spheres more material and yet perhaps more evanescent than this.
‘Yours sincerely,
‘ALFRED DEAKIN
‘To Kenneth Grahame, Esq.,
‘The Bank of England, London’
Few letters of this sort arrive at The Bank of England, I imagine. And to it the addressee answered:
‘Mayfield,
‘Cookham Dene,
‘Berkshire, England,
‘April 23rd, 1909
‘DEAR MR. DEAKIN, — It was most kind of you to write me such a welcome and more than generously worded letter about The Wind in the Willows. If I have ever received a pleasanter or more encouraging appreciation, I do not remember it.
‘It is not exactly logical, but somehow to have given pleasure to readers very far away seems to bring a special satisfaction which one cannot feel about the opinion of the man round the corner. And as for the animals, though they might well look for recognition down here, with their native Thames a few hundred yards away, yet they are aliens in Australia and would have no right to grumble at prompt deportation; but your friendly greeting will make them feel adopted and at home among relations; and I hope they will stay.
‘I am just back from a Continental wandering of nearly three months, which has delayed my reply. With many thanks again, and all good wishes.
‘Yours very sincerely,
‘KENNETH GRAHAME
‘The Hon. Alfred Deakin, M.P.’
And now to name the one or two letters whereby Kenneth Grahame has been drawn into explanations. To Master Thomas Goodman of Wing, Leighton Buzzard, who wisely demands details of ‘that good story about Toad and the lock-keeper’ which the Otter began to tell and never finished, Kenneth Grahame answers:
‘Rome,
‘10 July 1923
‘DEAR THOMAS GOODMAN, — Thank you very much for your nice letter of 27th June — I was very glad to hear you liked reading about Mr. Toad.
‘I am afraid I must not tell you the story about Toad and the Lock-keeper. The fact is, they both lost their tempers, and said things they much regretted afterwards. They are now friends again, so we have all agreed to let the matter drop.
‘Yours very truly,
‘KENNETH GRAHAME’
And Joyce of Whitchurch, Oxon, inquiring jealously for the fair fame of her own Oxfordshire bank, gets this reply from the one man able to answer a question and enable her to hold her head up proudly when she crosses the toll bridge at Pangbourne and stands on Berkshire soil:
‘Church Cottage,
‘Pangbourne, Berks,
22nd December 1930
‘MY DEAR JOYCE, — Thank you very much for your nice letter about The Wind in the Willows. It is very pleasant to think that you and your friends at Whitchurch like the book, because there is just as much of Oxfordshire as Berkshire in it, isn’t there? And some of the animals must have lived on one side of the river and some on the other; but I have always felt sure that Toad Hall was on the Oxfordshire side.
‘Wishing you all a very happy Christmas,
‘I am yours affectionately,
‘KENNETH GRAHAME’
And to a spiering Perthshire grandmama who writes of the thirty-eighth edition (which, as we know, is illustrated by Mr. Shepard) and, after compliments, says:
‘And now I want a little advice from the Author. It concerns the illustrations. They are perhaps quite all right for Grown Ups. But I am going to my grandchildren and the Book goes too, and they will criticize, and what am I to say? For thus, — I read on page 29 “the Mole... took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in the stern”: I turn over the leaf, and what has the Ernest Shepard done? He has transposed our, by now, friends, in the boat, Rat has the sculls, the Mole is settled comfortably in the stern — Oh wae’s me! Since my earliest childhood I have wondered why artists do not read the books they illustrate. Mr. Shepard by this inaccuracy proves he has missed Rat’s beautiful gesture on page 24 “I’ll teach you to row”, and the success of his lessons. I repeat, what am I to say to my grandchildren? — Yours distractedly, MARGARET STEWART SOMERVILLE.’
Ably indeed does K. G. play out of the bunker into which his partner has landed him. He writes, after a moment’s hesitation:
‘Church Cottage,
‘Pangbourne, Berks,
20th December 1931
‘DEAR LADY, — Yes — it is exasperating. These artists are very tiresome fellows — and they all do it! I hardly know what to suggest that you should tell the children. You might perhaps say that the animals had evidently “changed over” for just a minute while in full view of the windows of Toad Hall, in case Toad, looking out, should say afterwards to Rat, “Who’s your crab-catching friend?” For poor Mole couldn’t row very well yet. But I admit it sounds lame. Let us hope that they may not notice it. (But they will!)
‘Yours very truly,
‘KENNETH GRAHAME’
But no precisian has written, so far as I can find, to ask if the Water-Rat was really a water-vole and if so, why not say so?
In July 1908, the author, in reply to a request for a ‘descriptive paragraph’ of his forthcoming book, writes:
‘I will jot down on the fly-leaf of this some material for The drawing was subsequently altered by Mr. Shepard. a descriptive paragraph for the announcement list, though probably any one else would do it better.
‘“A book of Youth — and so perhaps chiefly for Youth, and those who still keep the spirit of youth alive in them: of life, sunshine, running water, woodlands, dusty roads, winter firesides; free of problems, clean of the clash of sex; of life as it might fairly be supposed to be regarded by some of the wise small things
That glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck
Kenneth Grahame, possibly because it was his last born, seems more interested in The Wind in the Willows than in his other works. In 1921 he writes to his literary agents regarding a request from his publishers that a chapter of the Wind should be included in a school ‘Reader’:
‘I am so very anxious that Sir A. Methuen should not think me unreasonable in objecting to the course proposed that I will give my views at some length, in the hope that even if he does not agree with me he may admit that I have “made out a case” as the saying is.
‘And first, as to the (complete) chapter proposed to be taken. Hear the Parable of the Small Holder. In our part of the country when the County Council endeavour to grab somebody’s land to meet the ambitions of some would-be “small holder”, the objection of the former always is not that he has to part with land but that the small holder is trying to “pick the eye out of his farm” (which is usually true). Is not some one playing the part of the small holder here?
‘But there is the graver objection, the harm done both to the children themselves and to literature by the practice of giving them a dozen snippets from as many books when with a little trouble and arrangement the books might be read through. In the March No of the Atlantic Monthly there is an article on this subject called “Literature in the Grades”. After dealing with the American fondness for “Readers”, the writer says: “In the English classes of this school what do they do? Why, they do what any one would do who loved English literature and proposed to spread that feeling to children. They tell stories and they read books through. Will you substitute for this the indifferent hash of the grade ‘Reader’... will you take a chapter out of The Wind in the Willows... Robinson Crusoe... and miss the opportunity to give your children the whole experience? Why?”
‘Now this is pretty straight talk. And if we feel that there is anything in the argument at all — how, well, inconsistent is it not for us to be planning to put the book on the school market as a whole, and at the same moment to be offering to the same market snippets of it to the “Reader”?’ And then years later he writes in reference to a proposed abridged edition for use in elementary schools:
‘Now as to the new proposal. I have taken a day or two to think over the matter, and frankly, I do not care about it, as it stands. The suggestion is, to issue the book in an elementary-school edition as a complete story, though considerably abridged for trade reasons. The book consists of twelve chapters, much the same length, and it would be necessary for me either (I) to cut out four complete chapters, or (2) to “blue-pencil” liberally and by whole paragraphs till I have reduced the whole contents by over one-third. I have had another look at the book again, from this Procrustean point of view, and I do not think that either course of treatment could be satisfactorily carried out. I quite appreciate the remark that the very heaviness of the “cuts” would render the abridgement less likely to interfere with the ordinary edition, but that is not quite my present point, which is that I do not care about having a form or version of the story in print, which has been cut down, not for any literary reason, such as redundancy, or verbosity, or parts being not quite suited for children, or too much over their heads, and so on and so on, but the purely arbitrary and “trade” reason of getting it within 192 pages — though I fully understand, and sympathize with, the hard necessities of trade. I can’t abridge satisfactorily without loss of quality, and that’s the long and short of it. I know that School Committees will only have books on their own terms, more or less, but that’s not my fault.’