William Morris and the Early Days of the Socialist Movement/7
CHAPTER VII
A PICNIC ON THE THAMES
ALTHOUGH denied the enjoyment of the holiday excursion to Box Hill with Morris and our Hammersmith comrades, as stated in the foregoing chapter, I was fortunate in having a more privileged outing with him on another occasion. Holiday expeditions were one of Morris' favourite enjoyments. He was remarkably fond of any kind of outdoor recreation which he could share with his friends; and considering his extraordinary zest for work and how constantly busy was his whole life, it is surprising how much pastime and holidaying he succeeded in snatching from the hours and days as they passed. He seemed ever ready for some diversion or adventure; and even during the most strenuous period of his Socialist agitation we have constant glimpses in his letters of his relaxing himself in some outing or amusement.
The occasion I am about to speak of was in the summer, I think, of 1889, when I spent a few days at Kelmscott House. Morris had written me, urging me to come on the Friday evening, or at latest on the Saturday morning, in order to join in a picnic trip on the river. 'Come on Saturday if you can,' he wrote, 'and you may have another opportunity of showing your disgust at the scenery of the pock-puddings of the South'—an allusion to my having spoken disparagingly of the scenery of the Home Counties in retaliation for his having said that there were 'no rivers in Scotland, only some mountain torrents.'
I arrived at the Mall in time for breakfast on the Saturday morning, and Morris was as gleesome as a schoolboy at the prospect of the day's expedition. About ten o'clock Ernest Radford came along and announced that the boat was ready for us at the little water-gate directly in front of the house.
'And we are ready for it, don't you think?' Morris chuckled, pointing to the heap of provisions gathered on the table. 'Now for a fair divide of the load.'
Our party consisted of Radford, Emery Walker, Jenny Morris, Morris, and myself. We looked a miniature commissariat corps as we filed out of the house down to the jetty! Morris, who insisted on carrying the bulkiest packages himself, seemed expanded to twice his usual dimensions. His jacket pockets bulged out hugely with two long bottles of wine, and a satchel stowed with eatables was slung over his shoulder. Each of us carried a package of some sort, and I feel sure the youngsters who watched our embarkation fancied we were going on a week's voyage at least!
Radford and Morris took the oars; Morris divesting himself of his coat, so warm and breezeless was the morning. The tide was with us, and our little craft sped up the river like an arrow. Morris was brimful of chat about the scenery on the banks, and entertained us with all manner of allusions to incidents and persons associated with the various parts of the river. He wanted us to sing, suggesting some old seafaring 'chanties,' and as none of us seemed in a vocal mood, he hummed rhymes to himself as he swung his oars.
Arriving at a point of the river near Richmond which had been fixed upon as the place of disembarkation, the boat was drawn in to the bank and duly made fast. We unloaded our provisions on the grassy slope, and Morris at once took upon himself the duties of Master of Ceremonies. He insisted on doing everything himself—opening the packages, laying out the plates, knives and forks, and glasses, and uncorking the wine bottles. What a feast was spread before us on the white linen napkins on the grass!—rolls of bread and pats of butter, veal-and-ham pies, boiled eggs, nuts, pears, and a delectable salad compounded by his own hands, three bottles of wine, and I know not what else. It seemed enough for a company of twenty, yet not many basketfuls were left over when we had had our will with them. And all the time Morris kept our fancy on the wing with stories and curious lore, and droll comments on the comestibles he had laid before us. He took delight in gently teasing his daughter Jenny, ascribing imaginary sayings to her as the repository of the wisdom and foibles of her sex; and in speaking to me, or of me, as the fellow-countryman and friend of 'William Wallace wight,' John Knox, Rob Roy, or other Scottish celebrities, displaying, I confess, an acquaintance with incidents and characters in Scottish history and Walter Scott's novels well beyond my range.
Our lunch over, we were about to gather up the unbroken remainder of the feast, when Morris, noticing a group of children lingering near by and eyeing our proceedings enviously, invited them to the freedom of our table, an invitation which they accepted with manifest surprise and delight.
We then went up Richmond Hill. Morris had promised me that I should see from the Hill one of the most beautiful landscape views of its kind anywhere in England or elsewhere to be seen, and he observed me with quite boyish expectation as I looked round the beautiful sweep of the river and the wonderful curves of spreading meadow and woodland fading away into the luxurious haze of the afternoon. In a perverse way I affected to be quite unimpressed by the scene, and his disappointment was so evident that I immediately repented myself of my affectation and acknowledged the great beauty of it. We lolled for an hour or more on the bank of the hill, Morris and Radford recalling snatches of poetry relating to the country within view, and contrasting passages from the Greek poets with those of our English poets on landscape themes. They spoke also about pictures of the scene by Turner, Constable, Linnell, and other artists, Morris expressing himself emphatically, as was his wont, for or against them, but always with some reason annexed which showed how keen was his discernment of their respective qualities and how far from mere whim was his judgment of them.
Some arrangement being made for the return of the boat which I cannot recall, we ourselves returned by way of Richmond and Kew, Morris taking a pleasure in buying 'Maids of Honour' (a famed delicacy of the place) for Jenny. His devotion to her all the way was beautiful to see. We rambled a good deal among the quainter parts of Kew, and eventually took the train home about eight o'clock in the evening.
In the adjoining compartment of the railway carriage (the compartments were partitioned only half-way up) there was a crowd of boys, who made a great row, singing schoolboy catches and thumping with sticks on the floor and partition. Morris at once caught up the spirit of their frolic, and much to Jenny's disapproval (which was, I suspect, assumed as part of her role, for the occasion, of a well-bred daughter with an obstreperous father) thumped back to them through the partition and joined in their singing, keeping time with them by pounding his feet on the floor.
At Kelmscott House an interesting company gathered in the library that night. Philip Webb, Carruthers, Bernard Shaw, Sydney Olivier, Walter Crane and Andreas Scheu, Walker and Radford. I do not remember if the gathering was a chance one, or if there was some project under consideration. But not elsewhere in all the land I fancy was there such wonderful conversation let loose between four walls that evening.