Suzanne Fagence Cooper previously chronicled the adept manner in which Effie Gray extricated herself from an unhappy, unconsummated
marriage to John Ruskin in order to become the wife and artistic partner of
John Millais. In ‘How We Might Live: at Home with Jane and William Morris’ she
traces the Morrises’ shared and separate lives with clarity and judicious
assessment.
The marriage of William Morris, designer-businessman, and Jane Burden, stableman’s uneducated daughter, has always been the subject of curiosity. Not so much for its cross-class features, which were relatively common in the Victorian age, but for its sequel. Eight years after the wedding and the birth of two children, Jane began a love affair with artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Morris’s friend and business partner – with the agreement if not approval of her husband.
William Morris is everyone’s hero. Jane has a terrible reputation, as silent, sulky, faithless wife. With sympathetic warmth, Cooper leads us through the couple’s experiences. She imagines them in various locations but does not invent their thoughts. Some known details are omitted – Jane’s unfulfilled wish for a son, her clandestine correspondence with Rossetti, Morris’s extravagant spending. But there is so much to include. Notably the evolution of Morris’ aesthetic taste from quaint medieval to proto-modern plainness, plus the analytical account of the tiny ornamented booklets that Jane created - when and for whom were they designed? No
letters from Jane to Morris or his family survive, so we don’t know what she
called him at home. In the group, he was
‘Topsy’ or ‘Top’; outside it would always be ‘Mr Morris’.
In its focus on personal lives, biography like this is not
‘history from below’ so much as what Phyllis Rose called ‘higher gossip’. It draws readers along engaging narratives
to which we can relate. Morris, whose
achievements are so various in poetry, design, manufacturing, politics, calligraphy,
translation and publishing, also wrote of his ‘disappointments and tacenda’ – about
which to keep silent. These include his
failure as a lover, and most painfully, the awfulness of Jenny’s epilepsy,
which struck when she was fifteen, blighting both her own days and those of the
family. Jane grieved acutely and had her own ‘unspoken’
list of regrets.
The strength of Cooper’s storytelling, signalled in the book’s subtitle, is its attention to how wife and husband created each of their homes, with comfort and fine objects but no luxurious superfluity. If we can believe it, nothing that was not
either beautiful or useful.
Their
relationship, too, was a shared construction, mortared with tact, which
weathered the storms. When Rossetti’s guilt for ‘stealing’ his friend’s wife drove him to a paranoid breakdown, Morris
allowed him to convalesce at Kelmscott until Jane acknowledged the affair was at its end. Morris did not gloat over this
outcome, and the subsequent affection between the couple was noted by all observers. Jane devoted her widowhood to securing
Morris’s memory through books and buildings – his lifelong pleasures.