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When one says that a writer is fashionable one practically always means that he is admired by people
under thirty. At the beginning of the period I am speaking of, the years during and immediately after
the war, the writer who had the deepest hold upon the thinking young was almost certainly
Housman. 10 Among people who were adolescent in the years 1910–25, Housman had an influence
which was enormous and is now not at all easy to understand. In 1920, when I was about seventeen, I
probably knew the whole of A Shropshire Lad by heart. I wonder how much impression A Shropshire
Lad makes at this moment on a boy of the same age and more or less the same cast of mind? No doubt
he has heard of it and even glanced into it; it might strike him as rather cheaply clever—probably that
would be about all. Yet these are the poems that I and my contemporaries used to recite to ourselves,
over and over, in a kind of ecstasy, just as earlier generations had recited Meredith's "Love in a
Valley," Swinburne's "Garden of Proserpine," etc., etc.
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
It just tinkles. But it did not seem to tinkle in 1920. Why does the bubble always burst?
To answer that question one has to take account of the external conditions that make certain writers
popular at certain times. Housman's poems had not attracted much notice when they were first
published. What was there in them that appealed so deeply to a single generation, the generation born
round about 1900?
In the first place, Housman is a "country" poet. His poems are full of the charm of buried
villages, the nostalgia of place-names, Clunton and Clunbury, Knighton, Ludlow, "on Wenlock Edge,"
"in summer time on Bredon," thatched roofs and the jingle of smithies, the wild jonquils in the
pastures, the "blue, remembered hills." War poems apart, English verse of the 1910–25 period is
mostly "country." The reason no doubt was that the rentier-professional class was ceasing once and
for all to have any real relationship with the soil; but at any rate there prevailed then, far more than
now, a kind of snobbism of belonging to the country and despising the town. England at that time was
hardly more an agricultural country than it is now, but before the light industries began to spread
themselves it was easier to think of it as one. Most middle-class boys grew up within sight of a farm,
and naturally it was the picturesque side of farm life that appealed to them—the ploughing,
harvesting, stack-thrashing and so forth. Unless he has to do it himself a boy is not likely to notice the
horrible drudgery of hoeing turnips, milking cows with chapped teats at four o'clock in the morning,
etc., etc. Just before, just after and, for that matter, during the war was the great age of the "Nature
poet," the heyday of Richard Jefferies and W H. Hudson. 11 Rupert Brooke's "Grantchester," the star
poem of 1913, 12 is nothing but an enormous gush of "country" sentiment, a sort of accumulated vomit