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by Alex Simpson, 22nd June 2020
REMORSEFUL DAY Part 1
REMORSEFUL DAY Part 1
The Celestial Poetry of A. E. Housman
by Alex Simpson, Vice Chairman, Ely Astronomy Club
*Ensanguinning the skies
How heavily it dies
Into the west away;
Past touch and sight and sound
Not further to be found,
How hopeless under ground
Falls the remorseful day
A.E.Housman More Poems XVI
* Bloody or extremely red
Remorseful Day.mp3Podcast
The late John Thaw (1942 ‒ 2002) as Chief Inspector Morse
The final episode of Inspector Morse was broadcast in November 2000. As the programme entitled ‘Remorseful day’ drew to a close (with Faure’s In Paradisum playing in the background) Oxford’s most famous detective suffers a fatal heart attack in the grounds of Exeter College, then subsequently expires in the Radcliffe Infirmary.
Just fifteen months later the actor John Thaw died from throat cancer after a lifetime of heavy smoking. Morse fans like me the world over mourned twice. Once for the curmudgeonly Chief Inspector and then again for the man who played him.
By sheer coincidence my own father David Simpson (1931-2001) passed away only a couple of months before John Thaw. I doubt very much if my dad ever watched a single episode of Inspector Morse, except perhaps during his last years in residential care. Because he spent the best part of his adult life purely as a radio listener. But if he did finally get to see one; I entertain the hope it was Remorseful Day.
For the scene is set one winter’s afternoon in a rural beer garden at Old Marston on the outskirts of Oxford. Inspector Morse and his long suffering sidekick Sergeant Lewis (played by Kevin Whately) take stock over a pint of their latest and last case together. As a reddening Sun sinks slowly in the West; Morse gives an impromptu, if rather doleful recitation of the immortal lines above.
That alone I’m sure would have secretly delighted my late father. Because he was an avid reader of the writings of Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936) from an early age. For those who don’t know A.E.Housman was one of the most popular poets of the late 19th & early 20th centuries. He was read with particular feeling and affection during the darkest days of World War I.
Housman’s most acclaimed work was the was a collection of countryside verse entitled A Shropshire lad. There were other compilations called simply Last Poems, More Poems & Additional Poems! Yet Housman’s writings were anything but, a sentimental exercise in rural nostalgia. Indeed quite the contrary!
There was a harsh even brutal honesty to Housman’s poetry. Perhaps unsurprising for a man whose early life was blighted by the heartbreaking experience of unrequited love. Not unlike John Thaw’s most celebrated character. However on the upside Housman more than earned his place in the pantheon of Great English Poets. For the sheer grandeur and quality of his literary and poetic output.
Whilst drafting this article at home there sits at my bedside a battered hardback copy of The Collected Poems of A. E. Housman — published in December 1953. This slim volume was purchased by my future father in the spring of 1954. He bought over the counter at the famous Bowes & Bowes Bookshop in Trinity Street Cambridge. It cost him the princely sum of Ten Shillings and Six old Pence in those bygone and pre-decimal days. When he made this particular acquisition my father would have been just twenty three years old and in his Third and Final year as an Undergraduate at Magdalene College Cantab.
Well nigh on seven decades have elapsed since then. After the passage of that much time; i’m left with the feeling of sheer admiration for the beauty of Housman’s English. But an admiration tinged with the mourning sadness that always arises out of any subject relating to my late father. Yet by way of emotional compensation I get the most satisfying of hints as to why he became so enamoured of the eminent poet so early in life?
Because my father was a dedicated and lifelong amateur astronomer. It takes no more than a casual browse of that slim volume he procured in Trinity Street some sixty six years ago; not to notice a number of Housman’s poems with an explicit astronomical themes. In addition the wealth of striking celestial imagery that informs whole great chunks of the Master’s work.
REMORSEFUL DAY Part 2
REMORSEFUL DAY Part 2
In a poem entitled Epithalamium [a poem or song in celebration of marriage] Housman wrote...
He is here, *Urania’s son
Hymen come from Helicon…
And the high heavens, that all control,
Turn in silence round the pole,
Catch the starry beams they shed
Prospering the marriage bed...
Last Poems XXIV
* The Patron Muse of Astronomy
In another simply called Astronomy, Housman crafted a moving tribute to the many unknown British soldiers who fought and fell during the Boer War (1899-1902) in South Africa.
The Wain upon the northern steep
Descends and lifts away.
Oh I will sit me down and weep
For the bones in Africa
For pay and medals, name and rank,
Things that he has not found,
He hove the Cross to heaven and sank
The pole-star underground.
Last Poems XVII
By ‘Wain’ Housman meant the old fashioned Haywain of John Constable fame. Which in turn happened to be an old country nickname for the Plough or Big Dipper. As for the Cross it is unmistakably a reference to the Southern Cross the equivalent of Cygnus the Swan in our skies. Indeed the latter is sometimes referred to as the ‘Northern Cross’.
The eminent poet was lamenting the fate of many young Englishmen. Who went out to battle on the veldt with the Boer Commandos never to return. A high proportion of them were rustic youths from isolated agricultural communities in such places as the Poet’s beloved Shropshire. These young men found themselves pitched into a life and death struggle, upon completely alien territory thousands of miles from home.
The last line of the second verse referring to ‘The pole-star underground’; is an allusion to the highly noticeable phenomena. That the more you journey in a southerly direction upon the Earth’s surface the further the North Star descends towards the horizon. Along with all the other star formations commonplace to the dwellers of Northern climes. Indeed Polaris (The Pole Star) disappears completely from view after the Equator is crossed.
Those unfortunate Shropshire Lads found themselves swallowed up in the gruesome colonial conflict close to the Southern tip of Africa. As they contemplated their tragic fate and that of their comrades. They would not even had the familiar night skies of home to draw some crumb of comfort from. As Housman lamented in the last verse...
And now he does even see
Signs of Nadir roll
At night over the ground where he
Is buried with the pole.
Yet I do not wish to bring this piece towards a close striking such a melancholy note. There is one more poem which I would like to share with you. It’s only a short the poem first published in 1936. But for me first verse brims over with a welter astronomical imagery, with seeming implications that could hardly be more contemporary in nature.
The rainy Pleiads wester
Orion Plunges Prone,
The stroke of midnight ceases,
And I lie down alone.
The rainy Pleiads wester,
And seek beyond the sea
The head that I shall dream of,
And `twill not dream of me.
More Poems XI
The last of the first verse (and most of the second) is clearly a reference to the author’s life of prolonged loneliness and unrequited love. But sad as that was it’s the astronomical aspect which has real import for us today. Because Housman was reflecting on a subtle and recurring celestial cycle of considerable significance and contemporary relevance.
In early to mid December the great winter constellation of Orion is at it’s most ascendant and resplendent. With Taurus the Bull to it’s upper right (west) and the Pleiads/Pleiades nestling a little way above the latter, they make for a most impressive sight. For on or about the of thirteenth of the month the mighty hunter arrives at what’s called Opposition.
In simple terms Orion stands absolutely upright in it’s seasonal path across the heavens, besides being positioned exactly due south; quite literally on the first ‘stroke of midnight’. This annual occurrence would have served undeniable notice to our pagan and prehistoric ancestors; that the Winter Solstice was only a week away. All the archaeological evidence suggests that this Solstice was by far and away the most important festival on the Megalithic Calendar.
However, just three months on it’s a completely different picture. By late evening, let alone midnight, the great hunter is inclining well on his side. Which accounts for Housman’s phrase ‘Orion plunges prone’ and not long from setting below the western horizon. Along with Taurus the Bull and the proverbial Seven Sisters for somewhat crestfallen company. That’s if you can even see these famous star formations for all the damp, drizzly weather. Which too often prevails in the weeks immediately before the official commencement of Spring.
This March the final act of this sidereal drama seemed to take on a particularly sombre or even sinister tone. Or am I just writing with the benefit of hindsight? Because the Great Huntsman’s plunge prone towards the West happened to co-inside with the imposition of the Co-Vid 19 Lock-down? I’ll leave it to you my readers to decide.
Given all we have been through in the last few months and weeks. And yet may still have to endure in the weeks, months and possibly years to come. No-one could be blamed if their thoughts started to take a pessimistic, despondent even morbid turn. Housman hit the nail right on the head in the very next poem from The rainy Pleiads as he wearily reflected…
But this unlucky love should last
When answered passions thin to air;
Eternal fate so deep has cast
It’s sure foundations in despair.
More Poems XII
There are some who will act in response to events they can neither control or comprehend by indulging in destructive attitudes followed and violent actions. A sight we have seen quite a lot of recently; arising out of a hateful mindset accompanied by lots of negative behaviour and destructive deeds. That Housman described and characterised so well by in his most celebrated work:-
...The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
Until they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.
A Shropshire Lad Canto XLI
However, I have or at least hope I have the antidote to all this negativity. By sheer coincidence it happens to be in the very verse(s) immediately before the one rendered in such ominous tones by John Thaw in his final outing as Inspector Morse.
Although composed the best part of a century ago it could hardly be more prescient in mode and appropriate for the situation we face now. In particular for those of us just coming out of lock-down and having to contemplate a most uncertain future. I’ll finish by enjoining you to embrace the positive ideals and rousing sentiments encapsulated in Housman’s unrivalled composition. A clarion call to celestial and metaphorical arms if there ever was one!
How clear, how lovely bright,
How beautiful to sight
Those beams of morning play;
How heaven laughs out with glee,
Where like a bird set free,
Up from the eastern seasonal
Soars the delightful day.
Today I shall be strong,
No more yield to wrong,
Shall squander life no more;
Days Lost, I know not how,
I shall retrieve them now;
Now I shall keep my vow
I never kept before.
More Poems XVI
Keep Safe & Well Yours Alex!
PS. Although this site is an astronomical one. I can’t resist urging you to watch (or rewatch) Remorseful Day [series 8 number 5] and the one before The Wench is Dead [series 8 number 4]. In the penultimate episode of Morse John Thaw gave one of his finest performances as the distant, donnish and cantankerous Chief Inspector. The way he acts the part is all the more impressive in the uncharacteristic and complete absence of his usual sidekick Sergeant Lewis. Happy Watching. Alex!
To be updated in the coming months.
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