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Henry Lawson - Bush Bard Extraordinaire
Lovable Larrikin, Lusty Lyricist - or both?
Few would dispute the power and beauty of the writings of Henry Lawson - with one notable exception - his arch-rival - Andrew Barton 'Banjo' Paterson - the other literary 'giant' of Lawson's famous 'time in the sun'. Whether they agreed or not, both would become the most famous poets in the history of Australians.
Yet another notable and much-loved Aussie - Jack Thompson (he of the twinkling eyes, the infectious laugh, the 'liquid chocolate' voice) - will tell you in the video further on, of his belief that the verbal battle between Henry Lawson and 'Banjo' Paterson undoubtedly endures - wherever they both may be!
Any besotted fan of both, familiar with their continuing barrage of reciprocal hostilities in the tabloids of the day, would have to agree that a 'war of words' of this intensity and skill, would reach into eternity.. And the same besotted fans would never cease to be entertained by their literary outpourings - giving Australians and poetry lovers around the world a myriad of poems, ballads, short stories and newspaper articles..
Three reasons I love Henry Lawson
He wrote the heart and soul.....the very essence.....of the Australian bush - and of the Australian persona - in a way that we mere mortals can only feel....or get a glimmer of... (if we are extremely lucky).
He seems to have covered the gamut of human experience and feelings - from joy to the deepest sorrow - from exquisite beauty to harsh reality - no feeling, no view of his world seemed to escape him.
Always true to his dream.....always able to lift the rest of us up with him, with his magnificent words.
If you are still eager to know more about him....
And this time I will 'spotlight' some of his book via the Amazon module - but I still must totally recommend one of my beloved books - from my own extensive library -
'THE WORLD OF HENRY LAWSON' - edited by Walter Stone - ISBN 0 7271 0283 4
To quote from this book -
Henry Lawson was as Australian as billy tea and proud of it. He was bred through
the island continent's turbulent emergence as an identity. He idealised the gold-digger,
the stockman, drover and shearer. He extolled the great Australian mateship as he found
it in the bush and was suspicious of city folk and wealth.
He spurned the esoteric prose and lofty poetry of his European peers for the robust ballad
and the pithy short story that became the hallmark of Australian creative writing of that period.
'The World of Henry Lawson' contains the best of his work as selected by his bibliographer Walter Stone.
Henry Lawson is a vital link in our literary heritage. The strident tattoo of his ballads and the keen observations of his short stories deserve a place in every Australian home.
Amazon admires his works - ...check these out.
...like I love Lawson?
Do you love Lawson
Henry Lawson - ..as read by Jack Thompson
Jack Thompson is one of our famous Aussie actors - for some years now. Throughout his highly successful career, and an unusual personal life, his hallmark deep resonant voice has just become warmer and richer year by year. Listen for yourself, and tell me you don't agree. I cannot hear enough of him reading Henry Lawson's words - and I don't think Henry would have objected at all.
In my guest book below I referred to Henry Lawson's life being bitter-sweet, and offered a brief answer to the question of why. Here is a little more detail:-
Henry grew up in poverty, raised mainly by his unhappy Mother, Louisa Lawson - and when his father was there, domestic quarrels between the pair were harsh, loud and numerous. Due to the impossible distance to the nearest education facility, his schooling was restricted to only 5 years - begun at 9 years old, and finishing at 14. And this precious time was fraught with severe difficulties., when his hearing deteriorated slowly until he suffered an acute degree of deafness.
He held this disability responsible for most of his later problems with alcohol, depression and often anti-social actions. His repeated escapes to the quiet of the 'Bush' he loved so much were understandable given the uncompromising attitudes of those times.
An unhappy marriage and subsequent breakup, and inability to keep up family maintenance payments resulted in gaol terms, particularly in the notorious Darlinghurst Gaol (that he nicknamed 'Starvinghurst Gaol' because of the miserable diet fed to the inmates). He recorded his experience in the poignant and haunting poem "One Hundred and Three" (his actual prisoner number) .
Constantly recurring bouts of heavy drinking were followed by voluntary periods of drying out treatment - over and over - despite much support by friends - and even an alcohol-free period in the country on a literary grant, living in a rent-free cottage, and local reporting. Sadly, he relapsed once again, and this time the inexorable deterioration in his health resulted in his death in 1922.
And the sweetness?
Well, he did achieve recognition and recompense for his literary efforts for much of the latter part of his life, and he did have the love, support and deep concern of many good friends and benefactors in both the publishing and literary world. His popularity with the 'man in the street' has rarely been matched in Australian history.
And finally, there was the ultimate tribute to the the man known as the 'People's Poet', when the Prime Minister of the day - William 'Billy' Hughes - decreed a public funeral so all Australians could 'pay him their last respects'.
The sweetest aspect of the man was the power of his pen to interpret and capture so much that was evolving for his beloved country in those tempestuous years of Federation for the emerging new nation; his fighting call to the man in the street to stand up against despotism in all the forms being experienced by the 'underdog' of the day; his continuing support of emancipation of women from the tyranny of being 'second class citizens' without a voice, without a vote, without rights as we understand them today.
Simultaneously he was exploring, evaluating and recording these diverse aspects of the young Australia; the marvels of mateship and the unique hidden beauty of this often harsh and unforgiving continent. In his own inimitable style, he wove all the threads together, into his poetry, his ballads and his short stories. To so many then - and so many of us now -
Henry Lawson was a hero!
A True Gentleman
...generous and kind
...and ever encouraging to others, who would try to follow in his giant footsteps.
I have recently read (at last) a small book by another classic writer of Australian literature - this time a female, named Miles Franklin - and part of her autobiography that has also been made into a film - 'My Brilliant Career'. To my surprise, the Preface in this book is by Henry Lawson, explaining how this extremely young author had sent her manuscript to him because she lived in the 'Bush' and knew nothing of the publishing world. And she humbly asked for his advice, and if he could spare the time to read her words. He did all of this and more...and the literary world grew even richer that he had made it.
He 'mentored' her in a time when this word was unknown, though the deed was common. I have no doubt that much of her 'brilliance' was polished to perfection by Henry's advice and support. Here are just a few of his words -
' ...but the descriptions of bush life and scenery came startlingly, painfully real to me, and I know that, as far as they are concerned, the book is true to Australia - the truest I ever read.' and,-
'...where every second sun-burnt bushman is a sympathetic humorist, with the sadness of the bush deep in his eyes and a brave grin for the worst of times, and where every third bushman is a poet, with a big heart that keeps his pockets empty.'
Soon, I plan to tell Miles Franklin's story...and when I do, the full Preface will be quoted. How could she fail, with Henry 'cheering' her on?
Some Last Words
Through the long, vociferous cutting as the night train swiftly sped,
Did you hear the grey Bush calling from the pine-ridge overhead:
"You have seen the seas and cities; all seems done, and all seems told:
I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you! Come to me, now you are old."
- 'On the Night Train' - Henry Lawson - 1922
Please share your stories, thoughts, appreciation....or not!