,,joyous ,,gard   ,,arthur ,,christopher
 ,,benson   ,,london  ,,john ,,murray1  
,,albemarle ,,street1 ,w4  #aiac        
,,to ,,all ,,my ,,friends ,,known ,,and 
,,unknown ,i ,,dedicate ,,this ,,book   
,,preface   ,it is a harder thing than  
it ought to be to write openly and      
frankly of things private and sacred4   
,secretum meum mihi6--,my secret is my  
own6--cried ,st4 ,francis in a harrowed 
moment4 ,but ,i believe that the        
instinct to guard and hoard the inner   
life is one that ought to be resisted4  
,secrecy seems to me now a very         
uncivilised kind of virtue1 after all6  
,we have all of us1 or most of us1 a    
quiet current of intimate thought1 which
 flows on1 gently and resistlessly1 in  
the background of our lives1 the volume 
and spring of which we cannot alter or  
diminish1 because it rises far away at  
some unseen source1 like a stream which 
flows through grassy pastures1 and is   
fed by rain which falls on unknown hills
 from the clouds of heaven4 ,this inner 

thought is hardly affected by the busy  
incidents of life--our work1 our        
engagements1 our public intercourse2 but
 because it represents the self which we
 are always alone with1 it makes up the 
greater part of our life1 and is much   
more our real and true life than the    
life which we lead in public4 ,it       
contains the things which we feel and   
hope1 rather than what we say2 and the  
fact that we do not speak our inner     
thoughts is what more than anything else
 keeps us apart from each other4  ,in   
this book ,i have said1 or tried to say1
 just what ,i thought1 and as ,i thought
 it2 and since it is a book which       
recommends a studied quietness and a    
cheerful serenity of life1 ,i have put  
my feelings to a vigorous test1 by      
writing it1 not when ,i was at ease and 
in leisure1 but in the very thickest and
 fullest of my work4 ,i thought that if 
the kind of quiet that ,i recommended   
had any force or weight at all1 it      
should be the sort of quiet which ,i    

still could realise and value in a life 
full of engagements and duties and      
business1 and that if it could be       
developed on a background of that kind1 
it might have a worth which it could not
 have if it were gently conceived in    
peaceful days and untroubled hours4  ,so
 it has all been written in spaces of   
hard-driven work1 when the day never    
seemed long enough for all ,i had to do1
 between interruptions and interviews   
and teaching and meetings4 ,but the     
sight and scent that ,i shall always    
connect with it1 is that of a great     
lilac-bush which stands just outside my 
study window1 and which day by day in   
this bright and chilly spring has held  
up its purple clusters1 overtopping the 
dense1 rich1 pale foliage1 against a    
blue and cloudless sky2 and when the    
wind has been in the ,north1 as it has  
often been1 has filled my room with the 
scent of breaking buds4 ,how often1 as  
,i wrote1 have ,i cast a sidelong look  
at the lilac-bush6 ,how often has it    

appeared to beckon me away from my      
papers to a freer and more fragrant air 
outside6 ,but it seemed to me that ,i   
was perhaps obeying the call of the     
lilac best--though how far away from its
 freshness and sweetness6--if ,i tried  
to make my own busy life1 which ,i do   
not pretend not to enjoy1 break into    
such flower as it could1 and give out   
what the old books call its 'spicery1'  
such as it is4  ,because the bloom1 the 
colour1 the scent1 are all there1 if ,i 
could but express them4 ,that is the    
truth6 ,i do not claim to make them1 to 
cause them1 to create them1 any more    
than the lilac could engender the scent 
of roses or of violets4 ,nor do ,i      
profess to do faithfully all that ,i say
 in my book that it is well to do4 ,that
 is the worst1 and yet perhaps it is the
 best1 of books1 that one presents in   
them one's hopes1 dreams1 desires1      
visions2 more than one's dull and mean  
performances4 ',als ich kann6' ,that is 
the best one can do and say4  ,it is our

 own fault1 and not the fault of our    
visions1 that we cannot always say what 
we think in talk1 even to our best      
friends4 ,we begin to do so1 perhaps1   
and we see a shadow gather4 ,either the 
friend does not understand1 or he does  
not care1 or he thinks it all unreal and
 affected2 and then there falls on us a 
foolish shyness1 and we become not what 
we are1 but what we think the friend    
would like to think us2 and so he 'gets 
to know' as he calls it1 not what is    
really there1 but what he chooses should
 be there4  ,but with pen in hand1 and  
the blessed white paper before one1     
there is no need to be anything in the  
world but what one is4 ,our dignity must
 look after itself1 and the dignity that
 we claim is worth nothing1 especially  
if it is falsely claimed4 ,but even the 
meanest flower that blows may claim to  
blossom as it can1 and as indeed it     
must4 ,in the democracy of flowers1 even
 the dandelion has a right to a place1  
if it can find one1 and to a vote1 if it

 can get one2 and even if it cannot1 the
 wind is kind to it1 and floats its     
arrowy down far afield1 by wood and     
meadow1 and into the unclaimed waste at 
last4     ,,contents   ,,chapter        
,,page  ,i4 ,,joyous ,,gard1 ,,prelude  
#a  ,,ii4 ,,ideas                       
#g  ,,iii4 ,,poetry                     
#aj  ,,iv4 ,,poetry ,,and ,,life        
#ae  ,v4 ,,art                          
#bb  ,,vi4 ,,art ,,and ,,morality       
#ce  ,,vii4 ,,interpretation            
#df  ,,viii4 ,,education                
#ed  ,,ix4 ,,knowledge                  
#ei  ,x4 ,,growth                       
#fi  ,,xi4 ,,emotion                    
#gg  ,,xii4 ,,memory                    
#hf  ,,xiii4 ,,retrospect               
#ih  ,,xiv4 ,,humour                    
#ajg  ,,xv4 ,,visions                   
#aai  ,,xvi4 ,,thought                  
#abf  ,,xvii4 ,,accessibility           
#acf  ,,xviii4 ,,sympathy               
#adh  ,,xix4 ,,science                  
#aeg  ,,xx4 ,,work                      

#aff  ,,xxi4 ,,hope                     
#agc  ,,xxii4 ,,experience              
#ahd  ,,xxiii4 ,,faith                  
#aic  ,,xxiv4 ,,progress                
#bjd  ,,xxv4 ,,the ,,sense ,,of ,,beauty
                          #bab  ,,xxvi4 
,,the ,,principle ,,of ,,beauty         
#bbj  ,,xxvii4 ,,life                   
#bbh     ,,joyous ,,gard  ,i  ,,prelude 
,the ,castle of ,joyous ,gard in the    
,morte ,d',arthur was ,sir ,lancelot's  
own castle1 that he had won with his own
 hands4 ,it was full of victual1 and all
 manner of mirth and disport4 ,it was   
hither that the wounded knight rode as  
fast as his horse might run1 to tell    
,sir ,lancelot of the misuse and capture
 of ,sir ,palamedes2 and hence ,lancelot
 often issued forth1 to rescue those    
that were oppressed1 and to do knightly 
deeds4  ,it was true that ,lancelot     
afterwards named it ,dolorous ,gard1 but
 that was because he had used it        
unworthily1 and was cast out from it2   
but it recovered its old name again when

 they conveyed his body thither1 after  
he had purged his fault by death4 ,it   
was on the morning of the day when they 
set out1 that the ,bishop who had been  
with him when he died1 and had given him
 all the rites that a ,christian man    
ought to have1 was displeased when they 
woke him out of his sleep1 because1 as  
he said1 he was so merry and well at    
ease4 ,and when they inquired the reason
 of his mirth1 the ,bishop said1 ,here  
was ,lancelot with me1 with more angels 
than ever ,i saw men upon one day4 ,so  
it was well with that great knight at   
the last6  ,i have called this book of  
mine by the name of ,joyous ,gard1      
because it speaks of a stronghold that  
we can win with our own hands1 where we 
can abide in great content1 so long as  
we are not careful to linger there in   
sloth and idleness1 but are ready to    
ride abroad at the call for help4 ,the  
only time in his life when ,lancelot was
 deaf to that call1 was when he shut    
himself up in the castle to enjoy the   

love that was his single sin4 ,and it   
was that sin that cost him so dear1 and 
lost the ,castle its old and beautiful  
name4 ,but when the angels made glad    
over the sinner who repented1 as it is  
their constant use to do1 and when it   
was only remembered of ,lancelot that he
 had been a peerless knight1 the name   
came back to the ,castle2 and that name 
is doubtless hidden now under some name 
of commoner use1 whatever and wherever  
it may be4  ,in the ,pilgrim's ,progress
 we read how willing ,mr4 ,interpreter  
was1 in the ,house that was full of so  
many devices and surprises1 to explain  
to the pilgrims the meaning of all the  
fantastic emblems and comfortable sights
 that he showed them4 ,and ,i do not    
think it spoils a parable1 but rather   
improves it1 that it should have its    
secret meaning made plain4  ,the ,castle
 of ,joyous ,gard then1 which each of us
 can use1 if we desire it1 is the       
fortress of beauty and joy4 ,we cannot  
walk into it by right1 but must win it2 

and in a world like this1 where there is
 much that is anxious and troublesome1  
we ought1 if we can1 to gain such a     
place1 and provide it with all that we  
need1 where we may have our seasons of  
rest and refreshment4 ,it must not be   
idle and selfish joyance that we take   
there2 it must be the interlude to toil 
and fight and painful deeds1 and we must
 be ready to sally out in a moment when 
it is demanded of us4 ,now1 if the      
winning of such a fortress of thought is
 hard1 it is also dangerous when won1   
because it tempts us to immure ourselves
 in peace1 and only observe from afar   
the plain of life1 which lies all about 
the ,castle1 gazing down through the    
high windows2 to shut out the wind and  
the rain1 as well as the cries and      
prayers of those who have been hurt and 
dismayed by wrongful usage4 ,if we do   
that1 the day will come when we shall be
 besieged in our ,castle1 and ride away 
vanquished and disgraced1 to do what we 
have neglected and forgotten4  ,but it  

is not only right1 it is natural and    
wise1 that we should have a stronghold  
in our minds1 where we should frequent  
courteous and gentle and knightly       
company--the company of all who have    
loved beauty wisely and purely1 such as 
poets and artists4 ,because we make a   
very great mistake if we allow the      
common course and use of the world to   
engulph us wholly4 ,we must not be too  
dainty for the work of the world1 but we
 may thankfully believe that it is only 
a mortal discipline1 and that our true  
life is elsewhere1 hid with ,god4 ,if we
 grow to believe that life and its cares
 and business are all1 we lose the      
freshness of life1 just as we lose the  
strength of life if we reject its toil4 
,but if we go at times to our ,joyous   
,gard1 we can bring back into common    
life something of the grace and         
seemliness and courtesy of the place4   
,for the end of life is that we should  
do humble and common things in a fine   
and courteous manner1 and mix with      

simple affairs1 not condescendingly or  
disdainfully1 but with all the eagerness
 and modesty of the true knight4  ,this 
little book then is an account1 as far  
as ,i can give it1 of what we may do to 
help ourselves in the matter1 by feeding
 and nurturing the finer and sweeter    
thought1 which1 like all delicate       
things1 often perishes from indifference
 and inattention4 ,those of us who are  
sensitive and imaginative and           
faint-hearted often miss our chance of  
better things by not forming plans and  
designs for our peace4 ,we lament that  
we are hurried and pressed and occupied1
 and we cry1      ,yet1 oh1 the place   
could ,i but find6  ,but that is because
 we expect to be conducted thither1     
without the trouble of the journey6 ,yet
 we can1 like the wise ,king of ,troy1  
build the walls of our castle to music1 
if we will1 and see to the fit providing
 of the place2 it only needs that we    
should set about it in earnest2 and as  
,i have often gratefully found that a   

single word of another can fall into the
 mind like a seed1 and quicken to life  
while one sleeps1 breaking unexpectedly 
into bloom1 ,i will here say what comes 
into my mind to say1 and point out the  
towers that ,i think ,i discern rising  
above the tangled forest1 and glimmering
 tall and shapely and secure at the end 
of many an open avenue4     ,,ii        
,,ideas   ,there are certain great ideas
 which1 if we have any intelligence and 
thoughtfulness at all1 we cannot help   
coming across the track of1 just as when
 we walk far into the deep country1 in  
the time of the blossoming of flowers1  
we step for a moment into a waft of     
fragrance1 cast upon the air from       
orchard or thicket or scented field of  
bloom4  ,these ideas are very various in
 quality2 some of them deliciously      
haunting and transporting1 some grave   
and solemn1 some painfully sad and      
strong4 ,some of them seem to hint at   
unseen beauty and joy1 some have to do  
with problems of conduct and duty1 some 

with the relation in which we wish to   
stand or are forced to stand with other 
human beings2 some are questionings born
 of grief and pain1 what the meaning of 
sorrow is1 whether pain has a further   
intention1 whether the spirit survives  
the life which is all that we can       
remember of existence2 but the strange  
thing about all these ideas is that we  
find them suddenly in the mind and soul2
 we do not seem to invent them1 though  
we cannot trace them2 and even if we    
find them in books that we read or words
 that we hear1 they do not seem wholly  
new to us2 we recognise them as things  
that we have dimly felt and perceived1  
and the reason why they often have so   
mysterious an effect upon us is that    
they seem to take us outside of         
ourselves1 further back than we can     
recollect1 beyond the faint horizon1    
into something as wide and great as the 
illimitable sea or the depths of sunset 
sky4  ,some of these ideas have to do   
with the constitution of society1 the   

combined and artificial peace in which  
human beings live1 and then they are    
political ideas2 or they deal with such 
things as numbers1 curves1 classes of   
animals and plants1 the soil of the     
earth1 the changes of the seasons1 the  
laws of weight and mass1 and then they  
are scientific ideas2 some have to do   
with right and wrong conduct1 actions   
and qualities1 and then they are        
religious or ethical ideas4 ,but there  
is a class of thoughts which belong     
precisely to none of these things1 but  
which are concerned with the perception 
of beauty1 in forms and colours1 musical
 sounds1 human faces and limbs1 words   
majestic or sweet2 and this sense of    
beauty may go further1 and may be       
discerned in qualities1 regarded not    
from the point of view of their         
rightness and justice1 but according as 
they are fine and noble1 evoking our    
admiration and our desire2 and these are
 poetical ideas4  ,it is not of course  
possible exactly to classify ideas1     

because there is a great overlapping of 
them and a wide interchange4 ,the       
thought of the slow progress of man from
 something rude and beastlike1 the      
statement of the astronomer about the   
swarms of worlds swimming in space1 may 
awaken the sense of poetry which is in  
its essence the sense of wonder4 ,i     
shall not attempt in these few pages to 
limit and define the sense of poetry4 ,i
 shall merely attempt to describe the   
kind of effect it has or may have in    
life1 what our relation is or may be to 
it1 what claim it may be said to have   
upon us1 whether we can practise it1 and
 whether we ought to do so4     ,,iii   
,,poetry   ,i was reading the other day 
a volume of lectures delivered by ,mr4  
,mackail at ,oxford1 as ,professor of   
,poetry there4 ,mr4 ,mackail began by   
being a poet himself2 he married the    
daughter of a great and poetical artist1
 ,sir ,edward ,burne-,jones2 he has     
written the ,life of ,william ,morris1  
which ,i think is one of the best       

biographies in the language1 in its fine
 proportion1 its seriousness1 its       
vividness2 and indeed all his writing   
has the true poetical quality4 ,i hope  
he even contrives to communicate it to  
his departmental work in the ,board of  
,education6  ,he says in the preface to 
his lectures1 ,poetry is the controller 
of sullen care and frantic passion2 it  
is the companion in youth of desire and 
love2 it is the power which in later    
years dispels the ills of life--labour1 
penury1 pain1 disease1 sorrow1 death    
itself2 it is the inspiration1 from     
youth to age1 and in all times and      
lands1 of the noblest human motives and 
ardours1 of glory1 of generous shame1 of
 freedom and the unconquerable mind4    
,in these fine sentences it will be seen
 that ,mr4 ,mackail makes a very high   
and majestic claim indeed for poetry3 no
 less than the claim of art1 chivalry1  
patriotism1 love1 and religion all      
rolled into one6 ,if that claim could be
 substantiated1 no one in the world     

could be excused for not putting        
everything else aside and pursuing      
poetry1 because it would seem to be both
 the cure for all the ills of life1 and 
the inspirer of all high-hearted effort4
 ,it would be indeed the one thing      
needful6  ,but what ,i do not think ,mr4
 ,mackail makes quite clear is whether  
he means by poetry the expression in    
verse of all these great ideas1 or      
whether he means a spirit much larger   
and mightier than what is commonly      
called poetry2 which indeed only appears
 in verse at a single glowing point1 as 
the electric spark leaps bright and hot 
between the coils of dark and cold wire4
  ,i think it is a little confusing that
 he does not state more definitely what 
he means by poetry4 ,let us take another
 interesting and suggestive definition4 
,it was ,coleridge who said1 ,the       
opposite of poetry is not prose but     
science2 the opposite of prose is not   
poetry but verse4 ,that seems to me an  
even more fertile statement4 ,it means  

that poetry is a certain sort of        
emotion1 which may be gentle or         
vehement1 but can be found both in verse
 and prose2 and that its opposite is the
 unemotional classification of          
phenomena1 the accurate statement of    
material laws2 and that poetry is by no 
means the rhythmical and metrical       
expression of emotion1 but emotion      
itself1 whether it be expressed or not4 
,i do not wholly demur to ,mr4          
,mackail's statement1 if it may be held 
to mean that poetry is the expression of
 a sort of rapturous emotion1 evoked by 
beauty1 whether that beauty is seen in  
the forms and colours of earth1 its     
gardens1 fields1 woods1 hills1 seas1 its
 sky-spaces and sunset glories2 or in   
the beauty of human faces and movements2
 or in noble endurance or generous      
action4 ,for that is the one essential  
quality of poetry1 that the thing or    
thought1 whatever it is1 should strike  
the mind as beautiful1 and arouse in it 
that strange and wistful longing which  

beautiful things arouse4 ,it is hard to 
define that longing1 but it is          
essentially a desire1 a claim to draw   
near to something desirable1 to possess 
it1 to be thrilled by it1 to continue in
 it2 the same emotion which made the    
apostle say at the sight of his ,lord   
transfigured in glory1 ,master1 it is   
good for us to be here6  ,indeed we know
 very well what beauty is1 or rather we 
have all within us a standard by which  
we can instinctively test the beauty of 
a sight or a sound2 but it is not that  
we all agree about the beauty of        
different things4 ,some see a great deal
 more than others1 and some eyes and    
ears are delighted and pleased by what  
to more trained and fastidious senses   
seems coarse and shocking and vulgar4   
,but that makes little difference2 the  
point is that we have within us an      
apprehension of a quality which gives us
 a peculiar kind of delight2 and even if
 it does not give us that delight when  
we are dull or anxious or miserable1 we 

still know that the quality is there4 ,i
 remember how when ,i had a long and    
dreary illness1 with much mental        
depression1 one of my greatest tortures 
was to be for ever seeing the beauty in 
things1 but not to be able to enjoy it4 
,the part of the brain that enjoyed was 
sick and uneasy2 but ,i was never in any
 doubt that beauty was there1 and had   
power to please the soul1 if only the   
physical machinery were not out of gear1
 so that the pain of transmission       
overcame the sense of delight4  ,poetry 
is then in its essence the discerning of
 beauty2 and that beauty is not only the
 beauty of things heard and seen1 but   
may dwell very deep in the mind and     
soul1 and be stirred by visions which   
seem to have no connection with outside 
things at all4     ,,iv  ,,poetry ,,and 
,,life   ,now ,i will try to say how    
poetry enters into life for most of us2 
and this is not an easy thing to        
express1 because one can only look into 
the treasure of one's own experience1   

wander through the corridors and halls  
of memory1 and see the faded tapestries1
 the pictures1 and1 above all1 the      
portraits which hang upon the walls4 ,i 
suppose that there are many people into 
whose spirits poetry only enters in the 
form of love1 when they suddenly see a  
face that they have beheld perhaps often
 before1 and have vaguely liked1 and    
realise that it has suddenly put on some
 new and delicate charm1 some curve of  
cheek or floating tress2 or there is    
something in the glance that was surely 
never there before1 some consciousness  
of a secret that may be shared1 some    
signal of half-alarmed interest1        
something that shows that the two lives1
 the two hearts1 have some joyful       
significance for each other2 and then   
there grows up that marvellous mood     
which men call love1 which loses itself 
in hopes of meeting1 in fears of        
coldness1 in desperate desires to       
please1 to impress2 and there arise too 
all sorts of tremulous affectations1    

which seem so petty1 so absurd1 and even
 so irritating1 to the spectators of the
 awakening passion2 desires to punish   
for the pleasure of forgiving1 to       
withdraw for the joy of being recalled2 
a wild elated drama in which the whole  
world recedes into the background1 and  
all life is merged for the lover in the 
half-sweet1 half-fearful consciousness  
of one other soul1      ,whose lightest 
whisper moves him more     ,than all the
 rangd reasons of the world4  ,and in   
this mood it is curious to note how     
inadequate common speech and ordinary   
language appear1 to meet the needs of   
expression4 ,even young people with no  
literary turn1 no gift of style1 find   
their memory supplying for them all     
sorts of broken echoes and rhetorical   
phrases1 picked out of half-forgotten   
romances2 speech must be soigneux now1  
must be dignified1 to meet so uplifting 
an experience4 ,how oddly like a book   
the young lover talks1 using so         
naturally the loud inflated phrases that

 seem so divorced from common-sense and 
experience6 ,how common it is to see in 
law-reports1 in cases which deal with   
broken engagements of marriage1 to find 
in the excited letters which are read   
and quoted an irresistible tendency to  
drop into doggerel verse6 ,it all seems 
to the sane reader such a grotesque kind
 of intoxication4 ,yet it is as natural 
as the airs and graces of the singing   
canary1 the unfurling of the peacock's  
fan1 the held breath and hampered strut 
of the turkey--a tendency to assume a   
greatness and a nobility that one does  
not possess1 to seem impressive1        
tremendous1 desirable4 ,ordinary talk   
will not do2 it must rhyme1 it must     
march1 it must glitter1 it must be stuck
 full of gems2 accomplishments must be  
paraded1 powers must be hinted at4 ,the 
victor must advance to triumph with     
blown trumpets and beaten drums2 and in 
solitude there must follow the reaction 
of despair1 the fear that one has       
disgraced oneself1 seemed clumsy and    

dull1 done ignobly4 ,every sensitive    
emotion is awake2 and even the most     
serene and modest natures1 in the grip  
of passion1 can become suspicious and   
self-absorbed1 because the passion which
 consumes them is so fierce that it     
shrivels all social restraints1 and     
leaves the soul naked1 and bent upon the
 most uncontrolled self-emphasis4  ,but 
apart from this urgent passion1 there   
are many quieter ways in which the same 
spirit1 the same emotion1 which is      
nothing but a sense of                  
self-significance1 comes into the soul4 
,some are so inspired by music1 the     
combinations of melodies1 the intricate 
conspiracy of chords and ordered        
vibrations1 when the orchestra is at    
work1 the great droning horns with their
 hollow reluctant voices sustaining the 
shiver and ripple of the strings2 or by 
sweeter1 simpler cadences played at     
evening1 when the garden scents wafted  
out of the fragrant dusk1 the shaded    
lamps1 the listening figures1 all weave 

themselves together into a mysterious   
tapestry of the sense1 till we wonder   
what strange and beautiful scene is     
being enacted1 and wherever we turn1    
catch hints and echoes of some          
bewildering and gracious secret1 just   
not revealed6  ,some find it in pictures
 and statues1 the mellow liquid pageant 
of some old master-hand1 a stretch of   
windspent moor1 with its leaning grasses
 and rifted crags1 a dark water among   
glimmering trees at twilight1 a rich    
plain running to the foot of haze-hung  
mountains1 the sharp-cut billows of a   
racing sea2 or a statue with its shapely
 limbs and its veiled smile1 or of the  
suspended strength of some struggling   
,titan3 all these hold the same         
inexplicable appeal to the senses1      
indicating the efforts of spirits who   
have seen1 and loved1 and admired1 and  
hoped1 and desired1 striving to leave   
some record of the joy that thrilled and
 haunted1 and almost tortured them2 and 
to many people the emotion comes most   

directly through the words and songs of 
poetry1 that tell of joys lived through1
 and sorrows endured1 of hopes that     
could not be satisfied1 of desires that 
could not know fulfilment2 pictures1    
painted in words1 of scenes such as we  
ourselves have moved through in old     
moods of delight1 scenes from which the 
marvellous alchemy of memory has        
abstracted all the base and dark        
elements1 leaving only the pure gold of 
remembered happiness--the wide upland   
with the far-off plain1 the garden      
flooded with sun1 the grasses crisped   
with frost1 the snow-laden trees1 the   
flaming autumn woods1 the sombre forest 
at shut of day1 when the dusk creeps    
stealthily along the glimmering aisles1 
the stream passing clear among          
large-leaved water-plants and spires of 
bloom2 and the mood goes deeper still1  
for it echoes the marching music of the 
heart1 its glowing hopes1 its longing   
for strength and purity and peace1 its  
delight in the nearness of other hearts1

 its wisdom1 its nobility4  ,but the end
 and aim of all these various influences
 is the same2 their power lies in the   
fact that they quicken in the spirit the
 sense of the energy1 the delight1 the  
greatness of life1 the share that we can
 claim in them1 the largeness of our own
 individual hope and destiny2 and that  
is the real work of all the thoughts    
that may be roughly called poetical2    
that they reveal to us something        
permanent and strong and beautiful1     
something which has an irrepressible    
energy1 and which outlines itself       
clearly upon the dark background of     
days1 a spirit with which we can join   
hands and hold deep communication1 which
 we instinctively feel is the greatest  
reality of the world4 ,in such moments  
we perceive that the times when we      
descend into the meaner and duller and  
drearier businesses of life are         
interludes in our real being1 into which
 we have to descend1 not because of the 
actual worth of the baser tasks1 but    

that we may practise the courage and the
 hope we ought to bring away from the   
heavenly vision4 ,the more that men have
 this thirst for beauty1 for serene     
energy1 for fulness of life1 the higher 
they are in the scale1 and the less will
 they quarrel with the obscurity and    
humility of their lives1 because they   
are confidently waiting for a purer1    
higher1 more untroubled life1 to which  
we are all on our way1 whether we       
realise it or no6     ,v  ,,art   ,it is
 not uncommon for me to receive letters 
from young aspirants1 containing poems1 
and asking me for an opinion on their   
merits4 ,such a letter generally says   
that the writer feels it hardly worth   
while to go on writing poetry unless he 
or she is assured that the poems are    
worth something4 ,in such cases ,i reply
 that the answer lies there6 ,unless it 
seems worth while1 unless indeed poetry 
is the outcome of an irrepressible      
desire to express something1 it is      
certainly not worth while writing4 ,on  

the other hand1 if the desire is there1 
it is just as well worth practising as  
any other form of artistic expression4  
,a man who liked sketching in           
water-colours would not be restrained   
from doing so by the fear that he might 
not become an ,academician1 a person who
 liked picking out tunes on a piano need
 not desist because there is no prospect
 of his earning money by playing in     
public6  ,poetry is of all forms of     
literary expression the least likely to 
bring a man credit or cash4 ,most       
intelligent people with a little gift of
 writing have a fair prospect of getting
 prose articles published4 ,but no one  
wants third-rate poetry2 editors fight  
shy of it1 and volumes of it are        
unsaleable4  ,i have myself written so  
much poetry1 have published so many     
volumes of verse1 that ,i can speak     
sympathetically on the subject4 ,i      
worked very hard indeed at poetry for   
seven or eight years1 wrote little else1
 and the published volumes form only a  

small part of my output1 which exists in
 many manuscript volumes4 ,i achieved no
 particular success4 ,my little books   
were fairly well received1 and ,i sold a
 few hundred copies2 ,i have even had a 
few pieces inserted in anthologies4 ,but
 though ,i have wholly deserted the     
practice of poetry1 and though ,i can by
 no means claim to be reckoned a poet1  
,i do not in the least regret the years 
,i gave to it4 ,in the first place it   
was an intense pleasure to write4 ,the  
cadences1 the metres1 the language1 the 
rhymes1 all gave me a rapturous delight4
 ,it trained minute observation--my     
poems were mostly nature-poems--and     
helped me to disentangle the salient    
points and beauties of landscapes1      
hills1 trees1 flowers1 and even insects4
 ,then too it is a very real training in
 the use of words2 it teaches one what  
words are musical1 sonorous1 effective2 
while the necessity of having to fit    
words to metre increases one's stock of 
words and one's power of applying them4 

,when ,i came back to writing prose1 ,i 
found that ,i had a far larger and more 
flexible vocabulary than ,i had         
previously possessed2 and though the    
language of poetry is by no means the   
same as that of prose--it is a pity that
 the two kinds of diction are so        
different in ,english1 because it is not
 always so in other languages--yet it   
made the writing of ornamental and      
elaborate prose an easier matter2 it    
gave one too a sense of form2 a poem    
must have a certain balance and         
proportion2 so that when one who has    
written verse comes to write prose1 a   
subject falls easily into divisions1 and
 takes upon itself a certain order of   
course and climax4  ,but these are only 
consequences and resulting advantages4  
,the main reason for writing poetry is  
and must be the delight of doing it1 the
 rapture of perceiving a beautiful      
subject1 and the pleasure of expressing 
it as finely and delicately as one can4 
,i have given it up because1 as ,william

 ,morris once said of himself1 to make  
poetry just for the sake of making it is
 a crime for a man of my age and        
experience6      ,one's feelings lose   
poetic flow     ,soon after twenty-seven
 or so6  ,one begins to think of        
experience in a different sort of way1  
not as a series of glowing points and   
pictures1 which outline themselves      
radiantly upon a duller background1 but 
as a rich full thing1 like a great      
tapestry1 all of which is important1 if 
it is not all beautiful4 ,it is not that
 the marvel and wonder of life is less2 
but it is more equable1 more intricate1 
more mysterious4 ,it does not rise at   
times1 like a sea1 into great crested   
breakers1 but it comes marching in      
evenly1 roller after roller1 as far as  
the eye can reach4  ,and then too poetry
 becomes cramped and confined for all   
that one desires to say4 ,one lived     
life1 as a young man1 rather for the    
sake of the emotions which occasionally 
transfigured it1 with a priestly sense  

of its occasional splendour2 there was  
not time to be leisurely1 humorous1     
gently interested4 ,but as we grow      
older1 we perceive that poetical emotion
 is but one of many forces1 and our     
sympathy grows and extends itself in    
more directions4 ,one had but little    
patience in the old days for quiet1     
prosaic1 unemotional people2 but now it 
becomes clear that a great many persons 
live life on very simple and direct     
lines2 one wants to understand their    
point of view better1 one is conscious  
of the merits of plainer stuff2 and so  
the taste broadens and deepens1 and     
becomes like a brimming river rather    
than a leaping crystal fount4 ,life     
receives a hundred affluents1 and is    
tinged with many new substances2 and one
 begins to see that if poetry is the    
finest and sweetest interpretation of   
life1 it is not always the completest or
 even the largest4  ,if we examine the  
lives of poets1 we too often see how    
their inspiration flagged and failed4   

,milton indeed wrote his noblest verse  
in middle-age1 after a life immersed in 
affairs4 ,wordsworth went on writing to 
the end1 but all his best poetry was    
written in about five early years4      
,tennyson went on to a patriarchal age1 
but there is little of his later work   
that bears comparison with what he wrote
 before he was forty4 ,browning produced
 volume after volume1 but1 with the     
exception of an occasional fine lyric1  
his later work is hardly more than an   
illustration of his faults of writing4  
,coleridge deserted poetry very early2  
,byron1 ,shelley1 ,keats1 all died      
comparatively young4  ,the ,letters of  
,keats give perhaps a more vivid and    
actual view of the mind and soul of a   
poet than any other existing document4  
,one sees there1 navely and nobly       
expressed1 the very essence of the      
poetical nature1 the very soil out of   
which poetry flowers4 ,it is wonderful1 
because it is so wholly sane1 simple1   
and unaffected4 ,it is usual to say that

 the ,letters give one a picture of     
rather a second-rate and suburban young 
man1 with vulgar friends and banal      
associations1 with one prodigious and   
matchless faculty4 ,but it is that very 
background that constitutes the supreme 
force of the appeal4 ,keats accepted his
 circumstances1 his friends1 his duties 
with a singular modesty4 ,he was not for
 ever complaining that he was           
unappreciated and underestimated4 ,his  
commonplaceness1 when it appears1 is not
 a defect of quality1 but an eager human
 interest in the personalities among    
whom his lot was cast4 ,but every now   
and then there swells up a poignant     
sense of passion and beauty1 a sacred1  
haunting1 devouring fire of inspiration1
 which leaps high and clear upon the    
homely altar4  ,thus he writes3 ,this   
morning poetry has conquered--,i have   
relapsed into those abstractions which  
are my only life--,i feel escaped from a
 new1 strange1 and threatening          
sorrow4444 ,there is an awful warmth    

about my heart1 like a load of          
immortality4 ,or again3 ,i feel more and
 more every day1 as my imagination      
strengthens1 that ,i do not live in this
 world alone1 but in a thousand worlds4 
,and again3 ,i have loved the principle 
of beauty in all things4  ,one sees in  
these passages that there not only is a 
difference of force and passion1 but an 
added quality of some kind in the mind  
of a poet1 a combination of fine        
perception and emotion1 which           
instantaneously and instinctively       
translates itself into words4  ,for it  
must never be forgotten how essential a 
part of the poet is the knack of words4 
,i do not doubt that there are hundreds 
of people who are haunted and penetrated
 by a lively sense of beauty1 whose     
emotions are fiery and sweet1 but who   
have not just the intellectual store of 
words1 which must drip like honey from  
an overflowing jar4 ,it is a gift as    
definite as that of the sculptor or the 
musician1 an exuberant fertility and    

swiftness of brain1 that does not slowly
 and painfully fit a word into its      
place1 but which breathes thought direct
 into music4  ,the most subtle account  
of this that ,i know is given in a      
passage in ,shelley's ,defence of       
,poetry4 ,he says3 ,a man cannot say ',i
 will compose poetry'--the greatest poet
 even cannot say it2 for the mind in    
creation is like a fading coal1 which   
some invisible influence1 like an       
inconstant wind1 awakes to transitory   
brightness4 ,the power arises from      
within1 like the colour of a flower     
which fades and changes as it is        
developed1 and the conscious portions of
 our nature are unprophetic either of   
its approach or its departure4 ,when    
composition begins1 inspiration is      
already on the decline4  ,that ,i       
believe is as true as it is beautiful4  
,the best poetry is written in a sudden 
rapture1 and probably needs but little  
reconsideration or retouching4 ,one     
knows for instance how the ,ode to the  

,nightingale was scribbled by ,keats on 
a spring morning1 in an orchard at      
,hampstead1 and so little regarded that 
it was rescued by a friend from the     
volume into which he had crammed the    
slips of manuscript4 ,of course poets   
vary greatly in their method2 but one   
may be sure of this1 that no poem which 
was not a great poem in its first       
transcript1 ever becomes a great poem by
 subsequent handling4 ,there are poets  
indeed like ,rossetti and ,fitz,gerald  
who made a worse poem out of a better by
 scrupulous correction2 and the first   
drafts of great poems are generally the 
finest poems of all4 ,a poem has        
sometimes been improved by excision1    
notably in the case of ,tennyson1 whose 
abandoned stanzas1 printed in his ,life1
 show how strong his instinct was for   
what was best and purest4 ,a great poet1
 for instance1 never1 like a lesser     
poet1 keeps an unsatisfactory stanza for
 the sake of a good line4 ,tennyson1 in 
a fine homely image1 said that a poem   

must have a certain curve of its own1   
like the curve of the rind of a pared   
apple thrown on the floor4 ,it must have
 a perfect evolution and progress1 and  
this can sometimes be best arrived at by
 the omission of stanzas in which the   
inconstant or flagging mind turned aside
 from its design4  ,but it is certain   
that if the poet gets so much into the  
habit of writing poetry1 that even when 
he has no sense of inspiration he must  
still write to satisfy a craving1 the   
result will be worthless1 as it too     
often was in the case of ,wordsworth4   
,because such poems become literary     
instead of poetical2 and literary poetry
 has no justification4  ,if we take a   
book like ,rossetti's ,house of ,life1  
we shall find that certain sonnets stand
 out with a peculiar freshness and      
brightness1 as in the golden sunlight of
 an autumn morning2 while many of the   
sonnets give us the sense of slow and   
gorgeous evolution1 as if contrived by  
some poetical machine4 ,i was interested

 to find1 in studying the ,house of     
,life carefully1 that all the finest    
poems are early work2 and when ,i came  
to look at the manuscripts1 ,i was      
rather horrified to see what an immense 
amount of alternatives had been         
produced4 ,there would be1 for instance1
 no less than eight or nine of those    
great slowly moving words1 like         
'incommunicable' or 'importunate'       
written down1 not so much to express an 
inevitable idea as to fill an inevitable
 space2 and thus the poems seem to lose 
their pungency by the slow absorption of
 painfully sought agglutinations of     
syllables1 with a stately music of their
 own1 of course1 but garnered rather    
than engendered4 ,rossetti's great      
dictum about the prime necessity for    
poetry being 'fundamental brainwork' led
 him here into error4 ,the brainwork    
must be fundamental and instinctive2 it 
must all have been done before the poem 
is conceived2 and very often a poet     
acquires his power through sacrificing  

elaborate compositions which have taught
 him certainty of touch1 but are not in 
themselves great poetry4 ,subsequent    
brainwork often merely clouds the       
effect1 and it was that on which        
,rossetti spent himself in vain4  ,the  
view which ,keats took of his own       
,endymion is a far larger and bolder    
one4 ,i will write independently1 he    
said4 ,i have written independently     
without judgment4 ,i may write          
independently and with judgment         
hereafter4 ,the genius of poetry must   
work out its own salvation in a man4 ,it
 cannot be matured by law and precept1  
but by sensation and watchfulness in    
itself4  ,of course1 fine craftsmanship 
is an absolute necessity2 but it is     
craftsmanship which is not only acquired
 by practice1 but which is actually     
there from the first1 just as ,mozart1  
as a child of eight1 could play passages
 which would tax the skill of the most  
accomplished virtuoso4 ,it was not      
learnt by practice1 that swift          

correspondence of eye and hand1 any more
 than the little swallow learns to fly2 
it knows it all already1 and is merely  
finding out what it knows4  ,and        
therefore there is no doubt that a man  
cannot become a poet by taking thought4 
,he can perhaps compose impressive      
verse1 but that is all4 ,poetry is1 as  
,plato says1 a divine sort of           
experience1 some strange blending of    
inherited characteristics1 perhaps the  
fierce emotion of some dumb ancestress  
combining with the verbal skill of some 
unpoetical forefather4 ,the receipt is  
unknown1 not necessarily unknowable4    
,of course if one has poetry in one's   
soul1 it is a tremendous temptation to  
desire its expression1 because the human
 race1 with its poignant desire for     
transfiguring visions1 strews the path  
of the great poet with bays1 and        
remembers him as it remembers no other  
human beings4 ,what would one not give  
to interpret life thus1 to flash the    
loveliness of perception into desirous  

minds1 to set love and hope and yearning
 to music1 to inspire anxious hearts    
with the sense that there is something  
immensely large1 tender1 and significant
 behind it all6 ,that is what we need to
 be assured of--our own significance1   
our own share in the inheritance of joy2
 and a poet can teach us to wait1 to    
expect1 to arise1 to adore1 when the    
circumstances of our lives are wrapped  
in mist and soaked with dripping rain4  
,perhaps that is the greatest thing     
which poetry does for us1 to reassure   
us1 to enlighten us1 to send us singing 
on our way1 to bid us trust in ,god even
 though ,he is concealed behind calamity
 and disaster1 behind grief and         
heaviness1 misinterpreted to us by      
philosophers and priests1 and horribly  
belied by the wrongful dealings of men4 
,,vi  ,,art ,,and ,,morality   ,there is
 a perpetual debate going on--one of    
those moulting shuttlecocks that serve  
to make one's battledore give out a     
merry sound--about the relation of art  

to morals1 and whether the artist or the
 poet ought to attempt to teach         
anything4 ,it makes a good kind of      
debate1 because it is conducted in large
 terms1 to which the disputants attach  
private meanings4 ,the answer is a very 
simple one4 ,it is that art and morality
 are only beauty realised in different  
regions2 and as to whether the artist   
ought to attempt to teach anything1 that
 may be summarily answered by the simple
 dictum that no artist ought ever to    
attempt to teach anything1 with which   
must be combined the fact that no one   
who is serious about anything can       
possibly help teaching1 whether he      
wishes or no6  ,high art and high       
morality are closely akin1 because they 
are both but an eager following of the  
law of beauty2 but the artist follows it
 in visible and tangible things1 and the
 moralist follows it in the conduct and 
relations of life4 ,artists and         
moralists must be for ever condemned to 
misunderstand each other1 because the   

votary of any art cannot help feeling   
that it is the one thing worth doing in 
the world2 and the artist whose soul is 
set upon fine hues and forms thinks that
 conduct must take care of itself1 and  
that it is a tiresome business to       
analyse and formulate it2 while the     
moralist who loves the beauty of virtue 
passionately1 will think of the artist  
as a child who plays with his toys1 and 
lets the real emotions of life go       
streaming past4  ,this is a subject upon
 which it is as well to hear the        
,greeks1 because the ,greeks were of all
 people who ever lived the most         
absorbingly interested in the problems  
of life1 and judged everything by a     
standard of beauty4 ,the ,jews1 of      
course1 at least in their early history1
 had the same fiery interest in         
questions of conduct2 but it would be as
 absurd to deny to ,plato an interest in
 morals as to withhold the title of     
artist from ,isaiah and the author of   
the ,book of ,job6  ,plato1 as is well  

known1 took a somewhat whimsical view of
 the work of the poet4 ,he said that he 
must exclude the poets from his ideal   
,state1 because they were the prophets  
of unreality4 ,but he was thinking of a 
kind of man very different from the men 
whom we call poets4 ,he thought of the  
poet as a man who served a patron1 and  
tried to gloze over his patron's tyranny
 and baseness1 under false terms of     
glory and majesty2 or else he thought of
 dramatists1 and considered them to be  
men who for the sake of credit and money
 played skilfully upon the sentimental  
emotions of ordinary people2 and he     
fought shy of the writers who used      
tragic passions for the amusement of a  
theatre4 ,aristotle disagreed with      
,plato about this1 and held that poetry 
was not exactly moral teaching1 but that
 it disposed the mind to consider moral 
problems as interesting4 ,he said that  
in looking on at a play1 a spectator    
suffered1 so to speak1 by deputy1 but   
all the same learned directly1 if       

unconsciously1 the beauty of virtue4    
,when we come to our own ,elizabethans1 
there is no evidence that in their plays
 and poetry they thought about morals at
 all4 ,no one has any idea whether      
,shakespeare had any religion1 or what  
it was2 and he above all great writers  
that ever lived seems to have taken an  
absolutely impersonal view of the sins  
and affections of men and women4 ,no one
 is scouted or censured or condemned in 
,shakespeare2 one sees and feels the    
point of view of his villains and       
rogues2 one feels with them that they   
somehow could hardly have done otherwise
 than they did2 and to effect that is   
perhaps the crown of art4  ,but nowadays
 the poet1 with whom one may include    
some few novelists1 is really a very    
independent person4 ,i am not now       
speaking of those who write basely and  
crudely1 to please a popular taste4     
,they have their reward2 and after all  
they are little more than mountebanks1  
the end of whose show is to gather up   

pence in the ring4  ,but the poet in    
verse is listened to by few people1     
unless he is very great indeed2 and even
 so his reward is apt to be intangible  
and scanty2 while to be deliberately a  
lesser poet is perhaps the most         
unworldly thing that a man can do1      
because he thus courts derision2 indeed1
 if there is a bad sign of the world's  
temper just now1 it is that men will    
listen to politicians1 scientists1 men  
of commerce1 and journalists1 because   
these can arouse a sensation1 or even   
confer material benefits2 but men will  
not listen to poets1 because they have  
so little use for the small and joyful  
thoughts that make up some of the best  
pleasures of life4  ,it is quite true1  
as ,i have said1 that no artist ought   
ever deliberately to try to teach       
people1 because that is not his         
business1 and one can only be a good    
artist by minding one's business1 which 
is to produce beautiful things2 and the 
moment one begins to try to produce     

improving things1 one goes off the line4
 ,but in ,england there has been of late
 a remarkable fusion of morality and    
art4 ,ruskin and ,browning are clear    
enough proof that it is possible to be  
passionately interested in moral        
problems in an artistic way2 while at   
the same time it is true1 as ,i have    
said1 that if any man cares eagerly for 
beauty1 and does his best to present it1
 he cannot help teaching all those who  
are searching for beauty1 and only      
require to be shown the way4  ,the work 
of all real teachers is to make great   
and arduous things seem simple and      
desirable and beautiful4 ,a teacher is  
not a person who provides short-cuts to 
knowledge1 or who only drills a         
character out of slovenly intellectual  
faults4 ,the essence of all real        
teaching is a sort of inspiration4 ,take
 the case of a great teacher1 like      
,arnold or ,jowett2 ,arnold lit in his  
pupils' minds a kind of fire1 which was 
moral rather than intellectual2 ,jowett 

had a power of putting a suggestive     
brilliancy into dull words and stale    
phrases1 showing that they were but the 
crystallised formulas of ideas1 which   
men had found wonderful or beautiful4   
,the secret of such teaching is quite   
incommunicable1 but it is a very high   
sort of art4 ,there are many men who    
feel the inspiration of knowledge very  
deeply1 and follow it passionately1 who 
yet cannot in the least communicate the 
glow to others4 ,but just as the great  
artist can paint a homely scene1 such as
 we have seen a hundred times1 and throw
 into it something mysterious1 which    
reaches out hands of desire far beyond  
the visible horizon1 so can a great     
teacher show that ideas are living      
things all bound up with the high       
emotions of men4  ,and thus the true    
poet1 whether he writes verses or       
novels1 is the greatest of teachers1 not
 because he trains and drills the mind1 
but because he makes the thing he speaks
 of appear so beautiful and desirable   

that we are willing to undergo the      
training and drilling that are necessary
 to be made free of the secret4 ,he     
brings out1 as ,plato beautifully said1 
the beauty which meets the spirit like a
 breeze1 and imperceptibly draws the    
soul1 even in childhood1 into harmony   
with the beauty of reason4 ,the work of 
the poet then is to elicit the simplest 
principles of life1 to clear away       
complexity1 by giving a glowing and     
flashing motive to live nobly and       
generously1 to renew the unspoiled      
growth of the world1 to reveal the      
secret hope silently hidden in the heart
 of man4  ,renovabitur ut aquila        
juventus tua--thy youth shall be renewed
 as an eagle--that is what we all       
desire6 ,indeed it would seem at first  
sight that1 to gain happiness1 the best 
way would be1 if one could1 to prolong  
the untroubled zest of childhood1 when  
everything was interesting and exciting1
 full of novelty and delight4 ,some few 
people by their vitality can retain that

 freshness of spirit all their life     
long4 ,i remember how a friend of ,r4   
,l4 ,stevenson told me1 that ,stevenson1
 when alone in ,london1 desperately ill1
 and on the eve of a solitary voyage1   
came to see him2 he himself was going to
 start on a journey the following day1  
and had to visit the lumber-room to get 
out his trunks2 ,stevenson begged to be 
allowed to accompany him1 and1 sitting  
on a broken chair1 evolved out of the   
drifted accumulations of the place a    
wonderful romance4 ,but that sort of    
eager freshness we most of us find to be
 impossible as we grow older2 and we are
 confronted with the problem of how to  
keep care and dreariness away1 how to   
avoid becoming mere trudging wayfarers1 
dully obsessed by all we have to do and 
bear4 ,can we not find some medicine to 
revive the fading emotion1 to renew the 
same sort of delight in new thoughts and
 problems which we found in childhood in
 all unfamiliar things1 to battle with  
the dreariness1 the daily use1 the      

staleness of life8  ,the answer is that 
it is possible1 but only possible if we 
take the same pains about it that we    
take to provide ourselves with comforts1
 to save money1 to guard ourselves from 
poverty4 ,emotional poverty is what we  
most of us have to dread1 and we must   
make investments if we wish for         
revenues4 ,we are many of us hampered1  
as ,i have said1 by the dreariness and  
dulness of the education we receive4    
,but even that is no excuse for sinking 
into melancholy bankruptcy1 and going   
about the world full of the earnest     
capacity for woe1 disheartened and      
disheartening4  ,a great teacher has the
 extraordinary power1 not only of       
evoking the finest capacities from the  
finest minds1 but of actually giving to 
second-rate minds a belief that         
knowledge is interesting and worth      
attention4 ,what we have to do1 if we   
have missed coming under the influence  
of a great teacher1 is resolutely to put
 ourselves in touch with great minds4   

,we shall not burst into flame at once  
perhaps1 and the process may seem but   
the rubbing of one dry stick against    
another2 one cannot prescribe a path1   
because we must advance upon the slender
 line of our own interests2 but we can  
surely find some one writer who revives 
us and inspires us2 and if we persevere1
 we find the path slowly broadening into
 a road1 while the landscape takes shape
 and design around us4 ,the one thing   
fortunately of which there is enough and
 to spare in the world is good advice1  
and if we find ourselves helpless1 we   
can consult some one who seems to have a
 view of finer things1 whose delight is 
fresh and eager1 whose handling of life 
seems gracious and generous4 ,it is as  
possible to do this1 as to consult a    
doctor if we find ourselves out of      
health2 and here we stiff and solitary  
,anglo-,saxons are often to blame1      
because we cannot bring ourselves to    
speak freely of these things1 to be     
importunate1 to ask for help2 it seems  

to us at once impertinent and           
undignified2 but it is this sort of     
dreary consideration1 which is nothing  
but distorted vanity1 and this still    
drearier dignity1 which withholds from  
us so much that is beautiful4  ,the one 
thing then that ,i wish to urge is that 
we should take up the pursuit in an     
entirely practical way2 as ,emerson     
said1 with a splendid mixture of common 
sense and idealism1 hitch our waggon to 
a star4 ,it is easy enough to lose      
ourselves in a vague sentimentalism1 and
 to believe that only our cramped       
conditions have hindered us from        
developing into something very          
wonderful4 ,it is easy too to drift into
 helpless materialism1 and to believe   
that dulness is the natural lot of man4 
,but the realm of thought is a very free
 citizenship1 and a hundred doors will  
open to us if we only knock at them4    
,moreover1 that realm is not like an    
over-populated country2 it is infinitely
 large1 and virgin soil2 and we have    

only to stake out our claim2 and then1  
if we persevere1 we shall find that our 
,joyous ,gard is really rising into the 
air about us--where else should we build
 our castles8--with all the glory of    
tower and gable1 of curtain-wall and    
battlement1 terrace and pleasaunce1 hall
 and corridor2 our own self-built       
paradise2 and then perhaps the knight1  
riding lonely from the sunset woods1    
will turn in to keep us company1 and the
 wandering minstrel will bring his harp2
 and we may even receive other visitors1
 like the three that stood beside the   
tent of ,abraham in the evening1 in the 
plain of ,mamre1 of whom no one asked   
the name or lineage1 because the answer 
was too great for mortal ears to hear4  
,,vii  ,,interpretation   ,is the secret
 of life then a sort of literary        
rapture1 a princely thing1 only possible
 through costly outlay and jealously    
selected hours1 like a concert of       
stringed instruments1 whose players are 
unknown1 bursting on the ear across the 

terraces and foliaged walls of some     
enchanted garden8 ,by no means6 ,that is
 the shadow of the artistic nature1 that
 the rare occasions of life1 where sound
 and scent and weather and sweet        
companionship conspire together1 are so 
exquisite1 so adorable1 that the votary 
of such mystical raptures begins to plan
 and scheme and hunger for these        
occasions1 and lives in discontent      
because they arrive so seldom4  ,no art1
 no literature1 are worth anything at   
all unless they send one back to life   
with a renewed desire to taste it and to
 live it4 ,sometimes as ,i sit on a     
sunny day writing in my chair beside the
 window1 a picture of the box-hedge1 the
 tall sycamores1 the stone-tiled roof of
 the chapel1 with the blue sky behind1  
globes itself in the lense of my        
spectacles1 so entrancingly beautiful1  
that it is almost a disappointment to   
look out on the real scene4 ,we like to 
see things mirrored thus and framed1 we 
strangely made creatures of life2 why1  

,i know not1 except that our finite     
little natures love to select and       
isolate experiences from the mass1 and  
contemplate them so4 ,but we must learn 
to avoid this1 and to realise that if a 
particle of life1 thus ordered and      
restricted1 is beautiful1 the thing     
itself is more beautiful still4 ,but we 
must not depend helplessly upon the     
interpretations1 the skilled            
reflections1 of finer minds than our    
own4 ,if we learn from a wise           
interpreter or poet the quality and     
worth of a fraction of life1 it is that 
we may gain from him the power to do the
 same for ourselves elsewhere2 we must  
learn to walk alone1 not crave1 like a  
helpless child1 to be for ever led and  
carried in kindly arms4 ,the danger of  
culture1 as it is unpleasantly called1  
is that we get to love things because   
poets have loved them1 and as they loved
 them2 and there we must not stay2      
because we thus grow to fear and        
mistrust the strong flavours and sounds 

of life1 the joys of toil and adventure1
 the desire of begetting1 giving life1  
drawing a soul from the unknown2 we come
 to linger in a half-lit place1 where   
things reach us faintly mellowed1 as in 
a vision1 through enfolding trees and at
 the ends of enchanted glades4 ,this    
book of mine lays no claim to be a      
pageant of all life's joys2 it leaves   
many things untouched and untold2 but it
 is a plea for this2 that those who have
 to endure the common lot of life1 who  
cannot go where they would1 whose       
leisure is but a fraction of the day1   
before the morning's toil and after the 
task is done1 whose temptation it is to 
put everything else away except food and
 sleep and work and anxiety1 not liking 
life so but finding it so2--it is a plea
 that such as these should learn how    
experience1 even under cramped          
conditions1 may be finely and           
beautifully interpreted1 and made rich  
by renewed intention4 ,because the      
secret lies hid in this1 that we must   

observe life intently1 grapple with it  
eagerly2 and if we have a hundred lives 
before us1 we can never conquer life    
till we have learned to ride above it1  
not welter helplessly below it4 ,and the
 cramped and restricted life is all the 
grander for this1 that it gives us a    
nobler chance of conquest than the free1
 liberal1 wealthy1 unrestrained life4   
,in the ,romaunt of the ,rose a little  
square garden is described1 with its    
beds of flowers1 its orchard-trees4 ,the
 beauty of the place lies partly in its 
smallness1 but more still in its running
 waters1 its shadowy wells1 wherein1 as 
the writer says quaintly enough1 are no 
frogs1 and the conduit-pipes that make a
 noise full-liking4 ,and again in that  
beautiful poem of ,tennyson's1 one of   
his earliest1 with the dew of the       
morning upon it1 he describes ,the      
,poet's ,mind as a garden3        ,in   
the middle leaps a fountain             
,like sheet lightning1         ,ever    
brightening       ,with a low melodious 

thunder2     ,all day and all night it  
is ever drawn       ,from the brain of  
the purple mountain       ,which stands 
in the distance yonder3 444     ,and the
 mountain draws it from ,heaven above1  
,and it sings a song of undying love4   
,that is a power which we all have1 in  
some degree1 to draw into our souls1 or 
to set running through them1 the streams
 of ,heaven--for like water they will   
run in the dullest and darkest place if 
only they be led thither2 and the lower 
the place1 the stronger the stream6 ,i  
am careful not to prescribe the source  
too narrowly1 for it must be to our own 
liking1 and to our own need4 ,and so ,i 
will not say love this and that picture1
 read this and that poet6 because it is 
just thus1 by following direction too   
slavishly1 that we lose our own         
particular inspiration4 ,indeed ,i care 
very little about fineness of taste1    
fastidious critical rejections1 scoffs  
and sneers at particular fashions and   
details4 ,one knows the epicure of life1

 the man who withdraws himself more and 
more from the throng1 cannot bear to    
find himself in dull company1 reads     
fewer and fewer books1 can hardly eat   
and drink unless all is exactly what he 
approves2 till it becomes almost        
wearisome to be with him1 because it is 
such anxious and scheming work to lay   
out everything to please him1 and       
because he will never take his chance of
 anything1 nor bestir himself to make   
anything out of a situation which has   
the least commonness or dulness in it4  
,of course only with the command of     
wealth is such life possible2 but the   
more delicate such a man grows1 the     
larger and finer his maxims become1 and 
the more he casts away from his         
philosophy the need of practising       
anything4 ,one must think1 such men say1
 clearly and finely1 one must disapprove
 freely1 one must live only with those  
whom one can admire and love2 till they 
become at last like one of those sad    
ascetics1 who spent their time on the   

top of pillars1 and for ever drew up    
stones from below to make the pillar    
higher yet4  ,one is at liberty to      
mistrust whatever makes one isolated and
 superior2 not of course that one's life
 need be spent in a sort of diffuse     
sociability2 but one must practise an   
ease that is never embarrassed1 a       
frankness that is never fastidious1 a   
simplicity that is never abashed2 and   
behind it all must spring the living    
waters1 with the clearness of the sky   
and the cleanness of the hill about     
them1 running still swiftly and purely  
in our narrow garden-ground1 and meeting
 the kindred streams that flow softly in
 many other glad and desirous hearts4   
,in the beautiful old ,english poem1    
,the ,pearl1 where the dreamer seems to 
be instructed by his dead daughter      
,marjory in the heavenly wisdom1 she    
tells him that all the souls of the     
blest are equal in happiness--that they 
are all kings and queens4#a ,that is a  
heavenly kind of kingship1 when there   

are none to be ruled or chidden1 none to
 labour and serve2 but it means the fine
 frankness and serenity of mind which   
comes of kingship1 the perfect ease and 
dignity which springs from not having to
 think of dignity or pre-eminence at    
all4  ,long ago ,i remember how ,i was  
sent for to talk with ,queen ,victoria  
in her age1 and how much ,i dreaded     
being led up to her by a majestic       
lord-in-waiting2 she sate there1 a      
little quiet lady1 so plainly dressed1  
so simple1 with her hands crossed on her
 lap1 her sanguine complexion1 her      
silvery hair1 yet so crowned with dim   
history and tradition1 so great as to be
 beyond all pomp or ceremony1 yet       
wearing the awe and majesty of race and 
fame as she wore her plain dress4 ,she  
gave me a little nod and smile1 and     
began at once to talk in the sweet clear
 voice that was like the voice of a     
child4 ,then came my astonishment4 ,she 
knew1 it seemed1 all about me and my    
doings1 and the doings of my relations  

and friends--not as if she had wished to
 be prepared to surprise me2 but because
 her motherly heart had wanted to know1 
and had been unable to forget4 ,the     
essence of that charm1 which flooded all
 one's mind with love and loyalty1 was  
not that she was great1 but that she was
 entirely simple and kind2 because she  
loved1 not her great part in life1 but  
life itself4  ,that kingship and        
queenship is surely not out of the reach
 of any of us2 it depends upon two      
things3 one1 that we keep our minds and 
souls fresh with the love of life1 which
 is the very dew of heaven2 and the     
other that we claim not rights but      
duties1 our share in life1 not a control
 over it2 if all that we claim is not to
 rule others1 but to be interested in   
them1 if we will not be shut out from   
love and care1 then the sovereignty is  
in sight1 and the nearer it comes the   
less shall we recognise it2 for the only
 dignity worth the name is that which we
 do not know to be there4  ,,footnotes3 

,footnote #a3 ,see ,professor ,w4 ,p4   
,ker's ,english ,literature1 ,medival1  
p4 #aid4     ,,viii  ,,education   ,it  
is clear that the progress of the       
individual and the world alike depends  
upon the quickening of ideas4 ,all      
civilisation1 all law1 all order1 all   
controlled and purposeful life1 will be 
seen to depend on these ideas and       
emotions4 ,the growing conception of the
 right of every individual to live in   
some degree of comfort and security is  
nothing but the taking shape of these   
ideas and emotions2 for the end of all  
civilisation is to ensure that there    
shall be freedom for all from debasing  
and degrading conditions1 and that is   
perhaps as far as we have hitherto      
advanced2 but the further end in sight  
is to set all men and women free to some
 extent from hopeless drudgery1 to give 
them leisure1 to provide them with      
tastes and interests2 and further still1
 to contrive1 if possible1 that human   
beings shall not be born into the world 

of tainted parentage1 and thus to stamp 
out the tyranny of disease and          
imbecility and criminal instinct4 ,more 
and more does it become clear that all  
the off-scourings and failures of       
civilisation are the outcome of diseased
 brains and nerves1 and that            
self-control and vigour are the results 
of nature rather than nurture4 ,all this
 is now steadily in sight4 ,the aim is  
personal freedom1 the freedom which     
shall end where another's freedom       
begins2 but we recognise now that it is 
no use legislating for social and       
political freedom1 if we allow the      
morally deficient to beget offspring for
 whom moral freedom is an impossibility4
 ,and perhaps the best hope of the race 
lies in firmly facing this problem4     
,but1 as ,i say1 we have hardly entered 
upon this stage4 ,we have to deal with  
things as they are1 with many natures   
tainted by moral feebleness1 by         
obliquity of vision1 by lack of         
proportion4 ,the hope at present lies in

 the endeavour to find some source of   
inspiration1 in a determination not to  
let men and women grow up with fine     
emotions atrophied2 and here the whole  
system of education is at fault4 ,it is 
all on the lines of an intellectual     
gymnastic2 little or nothing is done to 
cultivate imagination1 to feed the sense
 of beauty1 to arouse interest1 to      
awaken the sleeping sense of delight4   
,there is no doubt that all these       
emotions are dormant in many people4    
,one has only to reflect on the         
influence of association1 to know how   
children who grow up in a home          
atmosphere which is fragrant with       
beautiful influences1 generally carry on
 those tastes and habits into later     
life4 ,but our education tends neither  
to make men and women efficient for the 
simple duties of life1 nor to-arouse the
 gentler energies of the spirit4 ,you   
must remember you are translating       
poetry1 said a conscientious master to a
 boy who was construing ,virgil4 ,it's  

not poetry when ,i translate it6 said   
the boy4 ,i look back at my own         
schooldays1 and remember the bare1      
stately class-rooms1 the dry wind of    
intellect1 the dull murmur of work1     
neither enjoyed nor understood2 and ,i  
reflect how small a part any fanciful or
 beautiful or leisurely interpretation  
ever played in our mental exercises2 the
 first and last condition of any fine   
sort of labour--that it should be       
enjoyed--was put resolutely out of      
sight1 not so much as an impossible     
adjunct1 as a thing positively          
enervating and contemptible4 ,yet if one
 subtracts the idea of enjoyment from   
labour1 there is no beauty-loving spirit
 which does not instantly and rightly   
rebel4 ,there must be labour1 of course1
 effective1 vigorous1 brisk labour1     
overcoming difficulties1 mastering      
uncongenial details2 but the end should 
be enjoyment2 and it should be made     
clear that the greater the mastery1 the 
richer the enjoyment2 and that if one   

cannot enjoy a thing without mastering  
it1 neither can one ever really master  
it without enjoying it4  ,what we need1 
in education1 is some sense of far      
horizons and beautiful prospects1 some  
consciousness of the largeness and      
mystery and wonder of life4 ,to take a  
simple instance1 in my own education4 ,i
 read the great books of ,greece and    
,rome2 but ,i knew hardly anything of   
the atmosphere1 the social life1 the    
human activity out of which they        
proceeded4 ,one did not think of the    
literature of the ,greeks as of a       
fountain of eager beauty springing      
impulsively and instinctively out of the
 most ardent1 gracious1 sensitive life  
that any nation has ever lived4 ,one    
knew little of the stern1 businesslike1 
orderly1 grasping ,roman temperament1 in
 which poetry flowered so rarely1 and   
the arts not at all1 until the national 
fibre began to weaken and grow          
dissolute4 ,one studied history in those
 days1 as if one was mastering          

statute-books1 blue-books1 gazettes1    
office-files2 one never grasped the     
clash of individualities1 or the real   
interests and tastes of the nations that
 fought and made laws and treaties4 ,it 
was all a dealing with records and      
monuments1 just the things that happened
 to survive decay--as though one's study
 of primitive man were to begin and end 
with sharpened flints6  ,what we have   
now to do1 in this next generation1 is  
not to leave education a dry conspectus 
of facts and processes1 but to try      
rather that children should learn       
something of the temper and texture of  
the world at certain vivid points of its
 history2 and above all perceive        
something of the nature of the world as 
it now is1 its countries1 its           
nationalities1 its hopes1 its problems4 
,that is the aim1 that we should realise
 what kind of a thing life is1 how      
bright and yet how narrow a flame1 how  
bounded by darkness and mystery1 and yet
 how vivid and active within its little 

space of sun4     ,,ix  ,,knowledge     
,knowledge is power1 says the old adage2
 and yet so meaningless now1 in many    
respects1 do the words sound1 that it is
 hard even to recapture the mental      
outlook from which it emanated4 ,i      
imagine that it dates from a time when  
knowledge meant an imagined acquaintance
 with magical secrets1 short cuts to    
wealth1 health1 influence1 fame4 ,even  
now the application of science to the   
practical needs of man has some         
semblance of power about it2 the        
telephone1 wireless telegraphy1 steam   
engines1 ansthetics--these are powerful 
things4 ,but no man is profited by his  
discoveries2 he cannot keep them to     
himself1 and use them for his own       
private ends4 ,the most he can do is to 
make a large fortune out of them4 ,and  
as to other kinds of knowledge1         
erudition1 learning1 how do they profit 
the possessor8 ,no one knows anything   
nowadays1 said an eminent man to me the 
other day2 it is not worth while6 ,the  

most learned man is the man who knows   
best where to find things4 ,there still 
appears1 in works of fiction1 with      
pathetic persistence1 a belief that     
learning still lingers at ,oxford and   
,cambridge2 those marvellous ,dons1 who 
appear in the pages of novels1 men who  
read folios all the morning and drink   
port all the evening1 where are they in 
reality8 ,not at ,cambridge1 certainly4 
,i would travel many miles1 ,i would    
travel to ,oxford1 if ,i thought ,i     
could find such an adorable figure4 ,but
 the ,don is now a brisk and efficient  
man of business1 a paterfamilias with   
provision to make for his family4 ,he   
has no time for folios and no           
inclination for port4 ,examination      
papers in the morning1 and a glass of   
lemonade at dinner1 are the notes of his
 leisure days4 ,the belief in           
uncommercial knowledge has indeed died  
out of ,england4 ,eton1 as ,mr4 ,birrell
 said1 can hardly be described as a     
place of education2 and to what extent  

can ,oxford and ,cambridge be described 
as places of literary research8 ,a      
learned man is apt to be considered a   
bore1 and the highest compliment that   
can be paid him is that one would not   
suspect him of being learned4  ,there   
is1 indeed1 a land in which knowledge is
 respected1 and that is ,america4 ,if we
 do not take care1 the high culture will
 desert our shores1 like ,astra's flying
 hem1 and take her way ,westward1 with  
the course of ,empire4  ,a friend of    
mine once told me that he struggled up a
 church-tower in ,florence1 a great     
lean1 pale brick minaret1 designed1 ,i  
suppose1 to be laminated with marble1   
but cheerfully abandoned to bareness2 he
 came out on to one of those high       
balustraded balconies1 which in medival 
pictures seem to have been always       
crowded with fantastically dressed      
persons1 and are now only visited by    
tourists4 ,the silvery city lay         
outspread beneath him1 with the rapid   
mud-stained river passing to the plain1 

the hill-side crowded with villas       
embowered in green gardens1 and the     
sad-coloured hills behind4 ,while he was
 gazing1 two other tourists1 young      
,americans1 came quietly out on to the  
balcony1 a brother and sister1 he       
thought4 ,they looked out for a time in 
silence1 leaning on the parapet2 and    
then the brother said softly1 ,how much 
we should enjoy all this1 if we were not
 so ignorant6 ,like all ,americans1 they
 wanted to know6 ,it was not enough for 
them to see the high houses1 the        
fantastic towers1 the great blind blocks
 of medival palaces1 thrust so grimly   
out above the house-tops4 ,it all meant 
life and history1 strife and sorrow1 it 
all needed interpreting and             
transfiguring and re-peopling2 without  
that it was dumb and silent1 vague and  
bewildering4 ,one does not know whether 
to admire or to sigh6 ,ought one not to 
be able to take beauty as it comes8     
,what if one does not want to know these
 things1 as ,shelley said to his lean   

and embarrassed tutor at ,oxford8 ,if   
knowledge makes the scene glow and live1
 enriches it1 illuminates it1 it is     
well4 ,and perhaps in ,england we learn 
to live so incuriously and naturally    
among historical things that we forget  
the existence of tradition1 and draw it 
in with the air we breathe1 just        
realising it as a pleasant background   
and not caring to investigate it or     
master it4 ,it is hard to say what we   
lose by ignorance1 is hard to say what  
we should gain by knowledge4 ,perhaps to
 want to know would be a sign of        
intellectual and emotional activity2 but
 it could not be done as a matter of    
duty--only as a matter of enthusiasm4   
,the poet ,clough once said1 ,it makes a
 great difference to me that ,magna     
,charta was signed at ,runnymede1 but it
 does not make much difference to me to 
know that it was signed4 ,the fact that 
it was so signed affects our liberties1 
the knowledge only affects us1 if it    
inspires us to fresh desire of liberty1 

whatever liberty may be4 ,it is even    
more important to be interested in life 
than to be interested in past lives4 ,it
 was ,scott1 ,i think1 who asked        
indignantly1      ,lives there the man  
with soul so dead1     ,who never to    
himself hath said     ,this is my own1  
my native land8  ,i do not know how it  
may be in ,scotland6 ,dr4 ,johnson once 
said rudely that the finest prospect a  
,scotchman ever saw was the high road   
that might take him to ,england2 but ,i 
should think that if ,scott's is a fair 
test of deadness of soul1 there must be 
a good many people in ,england who are  
as dead as door-nails6 ,the ,englishman 
is not very imaginative2 and a farmer   
who was accustomed to kneel down like   
,antus1 and kiss the soil of his        
orchard1 would be thought an eccentric6 
,shall we then draw a cynical conclusion
 from all this1 and say that knowledge  
is a useless burden2 or if we think so1 
why do we think it8 ,i have very little 
doubt in my own mind that why so many   

young men despise and even deride       
knowledge is because knowledge has been 
presented to them in so arid a form1 so 
little connected with anything that     
concerns them in the remotest degree4   
,we ought1 ,i think1 to wind our way    
slowly back into the past from the      
present2 we ought to start with modern  
problems and modern ideas1 and show     
people how they came into being2 we     
ought to learn about the world1 as it   
is1 first1 and climb the hill slowly4   
,but what we do is to take the history  
of the past1 ,athens and ,rome and      
,juda1 three glowing and shining realms1
 ,i readily admit2 but we leave the gaps
 all unbridged1 so that it seems remote1
 abstruse1 and incomprehensible that men
 should ever have lived and thought so4 
,then we deluge children with the old   
languages1 not teaching them to read1   
but to construe1 and cramming the little
 memories with hideous grammatical      
forms4 ,so the whole process of         
education becomes a dreary wrestling    

with the uninteresting and the          
unattainable2 and when we have broken   
the neck of infantile curiosity with    
these uncouth burdens1 we wonder that   
life becomes a place where the only aim 
is to get a good appointment1 and play  
as many games as possible4  ,yet        
learning need not be so cumbrously      
carried after all6 ,i was reading a few 
days ago a little book by ,professor    
,ker1 on medival ,english1 and reading  
it with a species of rapture4 ,it all   
came so freshly and pungently out of a  
full mind1 penetrated with zest and     
enjoyment4 ,one followed the little rill
 of literary craftsmanship so easily out
 of the plain to its high source among  
the hills1 till ,i wondered why on earth
 ,i had not been told some of these     
delightful things long ago1 that ,i     
might have seen how our great literature
 took shape4 ,such scraps of knowledge  
as ,i possess fell into shape1 and ,i   
saw the whole as in a map outspread4    
,and then ,i realised that knowledge1 if

 it was only rightly directed1 could be 
a beautiful and attractive thing1 not a 
mere fuss about nothing1 dull facts     
reluctantly acquired1 readily forgotten4
  ,all children begin by wanting to     
know1 but they are often told not to be 
tiresome1 which generally means that the
 elder person has no answer to give1 and
 does not like to appear ignorant4 ,and 
then the time comes for ,latin ,grammar1
 and ,cicero de ,senectute1 and ,csar's 
,commentaries1 and the bewildered       
stripling privately resolves to have no 
more than he can help to do with these  
antique horrors4 ,the marvellous thing  
seems to him to be that men of flesh and
 blood could have found it worth their  
while to compose such things4           
,erudition1 great is thy sin6 ,it is not
 that one wants to deprive the savant of
 his knowledge2 one only wants a little 
common-sense and imaginative sympathy4  
,how can a little boy guess that some of
 the most beautiful stories in the world
 lie hid among a mass of wriggling      

consonants1 or what a garden lurks      
behind the iron gate1 with ,greek3 blsk 
and ,greek3 moloumai to guard the       
threshold8  ,i am not going here to     
discuss the old curriculum4 ,let 'em    
'ave it6 as the parent said to the      
schoolmaster1 under the impression that 
it was some instrument of               
flagellation--as indeed it is1 ,i look  
round my book-lined shelves1 and reflect
 how much of interest and pleasure those
 parallel rows have meant to me1 and how
 ,i struggled into the use of them      
outside of and not because of my        
so-called education2 and how much they  
might mean to others if they had not    
been so conscientiously bumped into     
paths of peace4  ,nothing1 said ,pater1 
speaking of art in one of his finest    
passages1 nothing which has ever engaged
 the great and eager affections of men  
and women can ever wholly lose its      
charm4 ,not to the initiated1 perhaps6  
,but ,i sometimes wonder if anything    
which has been taught with dictionary   

and grammar1 with parsing and           
construing1 with detention and          
imposition1 can ever wholly regain its  
charm4 ,i am afraid that we must make a 
clean sweep of the old processes1 if we 
have any intention of interesting our   
youth in the beauty of human ideas and  
their expression4 ,but while we do not  
care about beauty and interest in life1 
while we conscientiously believe1 in    
spite of a cataract of helpless facts1  
in the virtues of the old grammar-grind1
 so long shall we remain an uncivilised 
nation4 ,civilisation does not consist  
in commercial prosperity1 or even in a  
fine service of express trains4 ,it     
resides in quick apprehension1 lively   
interest1 eager sympathy 444 at least ,i
 suspect so4  ,like a crane or a        
swallow1 so did ,i chatter6 said the    
rueful prophet4 ,i do not write as a    
pessimist1 hardly as a critic2 still    
less as a censor2 to waste time in      
deriding others' theories of life is a  
very poor substitute for enjoying it6 ,i

 think we do very fairly well as we are2
 only do not let us indulge in the cant 
in which educators so freely indulge1   
the claim that we are interested in     
ideas intellectual or artistic1 and that
 we are trying to educate our youth in  
these things4 ,we do produce some       
intellectual athletes1 and we knock a   
few hardy minds more or less into shape2
 but meanwhile a great river of         
opportunities1 curiosity1 intelligence1 
taste1 interest1 pleasure1 goes idly    
weltering1 through mud-flats and lean   
promontories and bare islands to the    
sea4 ,it is the loss1 the waste1 the    
folly1 of it that ,i deplore4     ,x    
,,growth   ,as the years go on1 what one
 begins to perceive about so many       
people--though one tries hard to believe
 it is not so--is that somehow or other 
the mind does not grow1 the view does   
not alter2 life ceases to be a          
pilgrimage1 and becomes a journey1 such 
as a horse takes in a farm-cart4 ,he is 
pulling something1 he has got to pull   

it1 he does not care much what it       
is--turnips1 hay1 manure6 ,if he thinks 
at all1 he thinks of the stable and the 
manger4 ,the middle-aged do not try     
experiments1 they lose all sense of     
adventure4 ,they make the usual kind of 
fortification for themselves1 pile up a 
shelter out of prejudices and stony     
opinions4 ,it is out of the wind and    
rain1 and the prospect is safely        
excluded4 ,the landscape is so familiar 
that the entrenched spirit does not even
 think about it1 or care what lies      
behind the hill or across the river4    
,now of course ,i do not mean that      
people can or should play fast and loose
 with life1 throw up a task or a        
position the moment they are bored with 
it1 be at the mercy of moods4 ,i am     
speaking here solely of the possible    
adventures of mind and soul2 it is good1
 wholesome1 invigorating1 to be tied to 
a work in life1 to have to discharge it 
whether one likes it or no1 through     
indolence and disinclination1 through   

depression and restlessness4 ,but we    
ought not to be immured among           
conventions and received opinions4 ,we  
ought to ask ourselves why we believe   
what we take for granted1 and even if we
 do really believe it at all4 ,we ought 
not to condemn people who do not move   
along the same lines of thought2 we     
ought to change our minds a good deal1  
not out of mere levity1 but because of  
experience4 ,we ought not to think too  
much of the importance of what we are   
doing1 and still less of the importance 
of what we have done2 we ought to find a
 common ground on which to meet         
distasteful people2 we ought to labour  
hard against self-pity as well as       
against self-applause2 we ought to feel 
that if we have missed chances1 it is   
out of our own heedlessness and         
stupidity4 ,self-applause is a more     
subtle thing even than self-pity1       
because1 if one rejects the sense of    
credit1 one is apt to congratulate      
oneself on being the kind of person who 

does reject it1 whereas we ought to     
avoid it as instinctively as we avoid a 
bad smell4 ,above all1 we ought to      
believe that we can do something to     
change ourselves1 if we only try2 that  
we can anchor our conscience to a       
responsibility or a personality1 can    
perceive that the society of certain    
people1 the reading of certain books1   
does affect us1 make our mind grow and  
germinate1 give us a sense of something 
fine and significant in life4 ,the thing
 is to say1 as the prim governess says  
in ,shirley1 ,you acknowledge the       
inestimable worth of principle8--it is  
possible to get and to hold a clear     
view1 as opposed to a muddled view1 of  
life and its issues2 and the blessing is
 that one can do this in any circle1    
under any circumstances1 in the midst of
 any kind of work4 ,that is the         
wonderful thing about thought1 that it  
is like a captive balloon which is      
anchored in one's garden4 ,it is        
possible to climb into it and to cast   

adrift2 but so many people1 as ,i have  
said1 seem to end by pulling the balloon
 in1 letting out the gas1 and packing   
the whole away in a shed4 ,of course the
 power of doing all this varies very    
much in different temperaments2 but ,i  
am sure that there are many people who1 
looking back at their youth1 are        
conscious that they had something       
stirring and throbbing within them which
 they have somehow lost2 some vision1   
some hope1 some faint and radiant ideal4
 ,why do they lose it1 why do they      
settle down on the lees of life1 why do 
they snuggle down among comfortable     
opinions8 ,mostly1 ,i am sure1 out of a 
kind of indolence4 ,there are a good    
many people who say to themselves1      
,after all1 what really matters is a    
solid defined position in the world2 ,i 
must make that for myself1 and meanwhile
 ,i must not indulge myself in any      
fancies2 it will be time to do that when
 ,i have earned my pension and settled  
my children in life4 ,and then when the 

time arrives1 the frail and             
unsubstantial things are all dead and   
cannot be recovered2 for happiness      
cannot be achieved along these cautious 
and heavy lines4  ,and so ,i say that we
 must deliberately aim at something     
different from the first4 ,we must not  
block up the further views and wider    
prospects2 we must keep the horizon     
open4 ,what ,i here suggest has nothing 
whatever that is unpractical about it2  
it is only a deeper foresight1 a more   
prudent wisdom4 ,we must say to         
ourselves that whatever happens1 the    
soul shall not be atrophied2 and we     
should be as anxious about it1 if we    
find that it is losing its zest and     
freedom1 as we should be if we found    
that the body were losing its appetite6 
,it is no metaphor then1 but sober      
earnest1 when ,i say that when we take  
our place in the working world1 we ought
 to lay the foundations of that other   
larger stronghold of the soul1 ,joyous  
,gard4 ,all that matters is that we     

should choose a fair site for it in free
 air and beside still waters2 and that  
we should plan it for ourselves1 set out
 gardens and plantations1 with as large 
a scheme as we can make for it1         
expecting the grace and greenery that   
shall be1 and the increase which ,god   
gives4 ,it may be that we shall have to 
build it slowly1 and we may have to     
change the design many times2 but it    
will be all built out of our own mind   
and hope1 as the nautilus evolves its   
shell4  ,i am not speaking of a scheme  
of self-improvement1 of culture followed
 that it may react on our profession or 
bring us in touch with useful people1 of
 mental discipline1 of correct          
information4 ,the ,gard is not to be a  
factory or an hotel2 it must be frankly 
built for our delight4 ,it is delight   
that we must follow1 everything that    
brims the channel of life1 stimulates1  
freshens1 enlivens1 tantalises1         
attracts4 ,it must at all costs be      
beautiful4 ,it must embrace that part of

 religion that glows for us1 the thing  
which we find beautiful in other souls1 
the art1 the poetry1 the tradition1 the 
love of nature1 the craft1 the interests
 we hanker after4 ,it need not contain  
all these things1 because we can often  
do better by checking diffuseness1 and  
by resolute self-limitation4 ,it is not 
by believing in particular books1       
pictures1 tunes1 tastes1 that we can do 
it4 ,that ends often as a mere prison to
 the thought2 it is rather by meeting   
the larger spirit that lies behind life1
 recognising the impulse which meets us 
in a thousand forms1 which forces us not
 to be content with narrow and petty    
things1 but emerges as the energy1      
whatever it is1 that pushes through the 
crust of life1 as the flower pushes     
through the mould4 ,our dulness1 our    
acquiescence in monotonous ways1 arise  
from our not realising how infinitely   
important that force is1 how much it has
 done for man1 how barren life is       
without it4 ,here in ,england many of us

 have a dark suspicion of all that is   
joyful1 inherited perhaps from our      
,puritan ancestry1 a fear of yielding   
ourselves to its influence1 a terror of 
being grimly repaid for indulgence1 an  
old superstitious dread of somehow      
incurring the wrath of ,god1 if we aim  
at happiness at all4 ,we must know1 many
 of us1 that strange shadow which falls 
upon us when we say1 ,i feel so happy   
to-day that some evil must be going to  
befal me6 ,it is true that afflictions  
must come1 but they are not to spoil our
 joy2 they are rather to refine it and  
strengthen it4 ,and those who have      
yielded themselves to joy are often best
 equipped to get the best out of sorrow4
  ,we must aim then at fulness of life2 
not at husbanding our resources with    
meagre economy1 but at spending         
generously and fearlessly1 grasping     
experience firmly1 nurturing zest and   
hope4 ,the frame of mind we must be     
beware of1 which is but a stingy vanity1
 is that which makes us say1 ,i am sure 

,i should not like that person1 that    
book1 that place6 ,it is that closing-in
 of our own possibilities that we must  
avoid4  ,there is a verse in the ,book  
of ,proverbs that often comes into my   
mind2 it is spoken of a reprobate1 whose
 delights indeed are not those that the 
soul should pursue2 but the temper in   
which he is made to cling to the        
pleasure which he mistakes for joy1 is  
the temper1 ,i am sure1 in which one    
should approach life4 ,he cries1 ,they  
have stricken me1 and ,i was not sick2  
they have beaten me1 and ,i felt it not4
 ,when shall ,i awake8 ,i will seek it  
yet again4     ,,xi  ,,emotion   ,we are
 a curious nation1 we ,english6         
,stendhal says that our two most patent 
vices are bashfulness and cant4 ,that is
 to say1 we are afraid to say what we   
think1 and when we have gained the      
courage to speak1 we say more than we   
think4 ,we are really an emotional      
nation at heart1 easily moved and liking
 to be moved2 we are largely swayed by  

feeling1 and much stirred by anything   
that is picturesque4 ,but we are        
strangely ashamed of anything that seems
 like sentiment2 and so far from being  
bluff and unaffected about it1 we are   
full of the affectation1 the pretence of
 not being swayed by our emotions4 ,we  
have developed a curious idea of what   
men and women ought to be2 and one of   
our pretences is that men should affect 
not to understand sentiment1 and to     
leave1 as we rudely say1 all that sort  
of thing to the women4 ,yet we are much 
at the mercy of clap-trap and mawkish   
phrases1 and we like rhetoric partly    
because we are too shy to practise it4  
,the result of it is that we believe    
ourselves to be a frank1 outspoken1     
good-natured race2 but we produce an    
unpleasant effect of stiffness1         
angularity1 discourtesy1 and            
self-centredness upon more genial       
nations4 ,we defend our bluffness by    
believing that we hold emotion to be too
 rare and sacred a quality to be talked 

about1 though ,i always have a suspicion
 that if a man says that a subject is   
too sacred to discuss1 he probably also 
finds it too sacred to think about very 
much either2 yet if one can get a       
sensible ,englishman to talk frankly and
 unaffectedly about his feelings1 it is 
often surprising to find how delicate   
they are4  ,one of our chief faults is  
our love of property1 and the           
consequence of that is our admiration   
for what we call businesslike qualities4
 ,it is really from the struggle between
 the instinct of possession and the     
emotional instinct that our bashfulness 
arises2 we are afraid of giving         
ourselves away1 and of being taken      
advantage of2 we value position and     
status and respectability very high2 we 
like to know who a man is1 what he      
stands for1 what his influence amounts  
to1 what he is worth2 and all this is   
very injurious to our simplicity1       
because we estimate people so much not  
by their real merits but by their       

accumulated influence4 ,i do not believe
 that we shall ever rise to true        
greatness as a nation until we learn not
 to take property so seriously4 ,it is  
true that we prosper in the world at    
present1 we keep order1 we make money1  
we spread a bourgeois sort of           
civilisation1 but it is not a           
particularly fine or fruitful           
civilisation1 because it deals so       
exclusively with material things4 ,i do 
not wish to decry the race1 because it  
has force1 toughness1 and fine working  
qualities2 but we do not know what to do
 with our prosperity when we have got   
it2 we can make very little use of      
leisure2 and our idea of success is to  
have a well-appointed house1 expensive  
amusements1 and to distribute a dull and
 costly hospitality1 which ministers    
more to our own satisfaction than to the
 pleasure of the recipients4  ,there    
really can be few countries where men   
are so contented to be dull6 ,there is  
little speculation or animation or      

intelligence or interest among us1 and  
people who desire such an atmosphere are
 held to be fanciful1 eccentric1 and    
artistic4 ,it was not always so with our
 race4 ,in ,elizabethan times we had all
 the inventiveness1 the love of         
adventure1 the pride of dominance that  
we have now2 but there was then a great 
interest in things of the mind as well1 
a lively taste for ideas1 a love of     
beautiful things and thoughts4 ,the     
,puritan uprising knocked all that on   
the head1 but ,puritanism was at least  
preoccupied with moral ideas1 and       
developed an excitement about sin which 
was at all events a sign of intellectual
 ferment4 ,and then we did indeed       
decline into a comfortable sort of      
security1 into a stale classical        
tradition1 with pompous and sonorous    
writing on the one hand1 and with       
neatness1 literary finish1 and wit      
rather than humour on the other4 ,that  
was a dull1 stolid1 dignified time2 and 
it was focussed into a great figure of  

high genius1 filled with the combative  
common-sense which ,englishmen admire1  
the figure of ,dr4 ,johnson4 ,his       
influence1 his temperament1 portrayed in
 his matchless biography1 did indeed    
dominate literary ,england to its hurt2 
because the essence of ,johnson was his 
freshness1 and in his hands the great   
rolling ,palladian sentences contrived  
to bite and penetrate2 but his imitators
 did not see that freshness was the one 
requisite2 and so for a generation the  
pompous rotund tradition flooded        
,english prose2 but for all that1       
,england was saved in literature from   
mere stateliness by the sudden fierce   
interest in life and its problems which 
burst out like a spring in              
eighteenth-century fiction2 and so we   
come to the ,victorian era1 when we were
 partially submerged by prosperity1     
scientific invention1 commerce1         
colonisation4 ,but the great figures of 
the century arose and had their         
say--,carlyle1 ,tennyson1 ,browning1    

,ruskin1 ,william ,morris2 it was there 
all the time1 that spirit of fierce hope
 and discontent and emotion1 that deep  
longing to penetrate the issues and the 
significance of life4  ,it may be that  
the immense activity of science somewhat
 damped our interest in beauty2 but that
 is probably a temporary thing4 ,the    
influence exerted by the early          
scientists was in the direction of      
facile promises to solve all mysteries1 
to analyse everything into elements1 to 
classify1 to track out natural laws2 and
 it was believed that the methods and   
processes of life would be divested of  
their secrecy and their                 
irresponsibility2 but the effect of     
further investigation is to reveal that 
life is infinitely more complex than was
 supposed1 and that the end is as dim as
 ever2 though science did for a while   
make havoc of the stereotyped           
imaginative systems of faith and belief1
 so that men supposed that beauty was   
but an accidental emphasis of law1 and  

that the love of it could be traced to  
very material preferences4  ,the artist 
was for a time dismayed1 at being       
confronted by the chemist who held that 
he had explained emotion because he had 
analysed the substance of tears2 and for
 a time the scientific spirit drove the 
spirit of art into cliques and coteries1
 so that artists were hidden1 like the  
,lord's prophets1 by fifties in caves1  
and fed upon bread and water4  ,what    
mostly ,i would believe now injures and 
overshadows art1 is that artists are    
affected by the false standard of       
prosperous life1 are not content to work
 in poverty and simplicity1 but are     
anxious1 as all ambitious natures who   
love applause must be1 to share in the  
spoils of the ,philistines4 ,there are1 
,i know1 craftsmen who care nothing at  
all for these things1 but work in       
silence and even in obscurity at what   
seems to them engrossing and beautiful2 
but they are rare2 and when there is so 
much experience and pleasure and comfort

 abroad1 and when security and deference
 so much depend upon wealth1 the artist 
desires wealth1 more for the sake of    
experience and pleasure than for the    
sake of accumulation4  ,but the spirit  
which one desires to see spring up is   
the ,athenian spirit1 which finds its   
satisfaction in ideas and thoughts and  
beautiful emotions1 in mental           
exploration and artistic expression2 and
 is so absorbed1 so intent upon these   
things that it can afford to let        
prosperity flow past like a muddy       
stream4 ,unfortunately1 however1 the    
,english spirit is solitary rather than 
social1 and the artistic spirit is      
jealous rather than inclusive2 and so it
 comes about that instead of artists and
 men of ideas consorting together and   
living a free and simple life1 they tend
 to dwell in lonely fortresses and      
paradises1 costly to create1 costly to  
maintain4 ,the ,english spirit is       
against communities4 ,if it were not so1
 how easy it would be for people to live

 in groups and circles1 with common     
interests and tastes1 to encourage each 
other to believe in beautiful things1   
and to practise ardent thoughts and     
generous dreams4 ,but this cannot be    
done artificially1 and the only people  
who ever try to do it are artists1 who  
do occasionally congregate in a place1  
and make no secret to each other of what
 they are pursuing4 ,i have sometimes   
touched the fringe of a community like  
that1 and have been charmed by the sense
 of a more eager happiness1 a more      
unaffected intercourse of spirits than  
,i have found elsewhere4 ,but the world 
intervenes6 domestic ties1 pecuniary    
interests1 civic claims disintegrate the
 group4 ,it is sad to think how possible
 such intercourse is in youth1 and in   
youth only1 as one sees it displayed in 
that fine and moving book ,trilby1 which
 does contrive to reflect the joy of the
 buoyant companionship of art4 ,but the 
flush dies down1 the insouciance        
departs1 and with it the ardent         

generosity of life4 ,some day perhaps1  
when life has become simpler and wealth 
more equalised1 when work is more       
distributed1 when there is less         
production of unnecessary things1 these 
groups will form themselves1 and the    
frank1 eager1 vivid spirit of youth will
 last on into middle-age1 and even into 
age itself4 ,i do not think that this is
 wholly a dream2 but we must first get  
rid of much of the pompous nonsense     
about money and position1 which now     
spoils so many lives2 and if we could be
 more genuinely interested in the beauty
 and complex charm and joy of life1 we  
should think less and less of material  
things1 be content with shelter1 warmth1
 and food1 and grudge the time we waste 
in providing things for which we have no
 real use1 simply in order that1 like   
the rich fool1 we may congratulate      
ourselves on having much goods laid up  
for many years1 when the end was hard at
 hand6     ,,xii  ,,memory   ,memory is 
for many people the only form of poetry 

which they indulge4 ,if a soul turns to 
the future for consolation in a sad or  
wearied or disappointed present1 it is  
in religion that hope and strength are  
sometimes found2 but if it is a         
retrospective nature--and the poetical  
nature is generally retrospective1      
because poetry is concerned with the    
beauty of actual experience and actual  
things1 rather than with the possible   
and the unknown--then it finds its      
medicine for the dreariness of life in  
memory4 ,of course there are many simple
 and healthy natures which do not       
concern themselves with visions at      
all--the little businesses1 the daily   
pleasures1 are quietly and even eagerly 
enjoyed4 ,but the poetical nature is the
 nature that is not easily contented1   
because it tends to idealisation1 to the
 thought that the present might easily  
be so much happier1 brighter1 more      
beautiful1 than it is4      ,an eager   
soul that looks beyond     ,and shivers 
in the midst of bliss1     ,that cries1 

,i should not need despond1     ,if this
 were otherwise1 and this6  ,and so the 
soul that has seen much and enjoyed much
 and endured much1 and whose whole life 
has been not spoiled1 of course1 but a  
little shadowed by the thought that the 
elements of happiness have never been   
quite as pure as it would have wished1  
turns back in thought to the old scenes 
of love and companionship1 and evokes   
from the dark1 as from the pages of some
 volume of photographs and records1 the 
pictures of the past1 retouching them1  
it is true1 and adapting them1 by deftly
 removing all the broken lights and     
intrusive anxieties1 not into what they 
actually were1 but into what they might 
have been4 ,carlyle laid his finger upon
 the truth of this power1 when he said  
that the reason why the pictures of the 
past were always so golden in tone1 so  
delicate in outline1 was because the    
quality of fear was taken from them4 ,it
 is the fear of what may be and what    
must be that overshadows present        

happiness2 and if fear is taken from us 
we are happy4 ,the strange thing is that
 we cannot learn not to be afraid1 even 
though all the darkest and saddest of   
our experiences have left us unscathed2 
and if we could but find a reason for   
the mingling of fear with our lives1 we 
should have gone far towards solving the
 riddle of the world4  ,this indulgence 
of memory is not necessarily a weakening
 or an enervating thing1 so long as it  
does not come to us too early1 or       
disengage us from needful activities4   
,it is often not accompanied by any     
shadow of loss or bitterness4 ,i        
remember once sitting with my beloved   
old nurse1 when she was near her        
ninetieth year1 in her little room1 in  
which was gathered much of the old      
nursery furniture1 the tiny chairs of   
the children1 the store-cupboard with   
the farmyard pictures on the panel1 the 
stuffed pet-birds--all the homely wrack 
of life2 and we had been recalling many 
of the old childish incidents with      

laughter and smiles4 ,when ,i rose to   
go1 she sate still for a minute1 and her
 eyes filled with quiet tears1 ,ah1     
those were happy days6 she said4 ,but   
there was no repining about it1 no sense
 that it was better to forget old       
joys--rather a quiet pleasure that so   
much that was beautiful and tender was  
laid away in memory1 and could neither  
be altered nor taken away4 ,and one does
 not find in old people1 whose memory of
 the past is clear1 while their         
recollection of the present grows dim1  
any sense of pathos1 but rather of pride
 and eagerness about recalling the      
minutest details of the vanished days4  
,to feel the pathos of the past1 as     
,tennyson expressed it in that wonderful
 and moving lyric1 ,tears1 idle tears1  
is much more characteristic of youth4   
,there is rather in serene old age a    
sense of pleasant triumph at having     
safely weathered the storms of fate1 and
 left the tragedies of life behind4 ,the
 aged would not as a rule live life over

 again1 if they could4 ,they are not    
disappointed in life4 ,they have had1 on
 the whole1 what they hoped and desired4
 ,as ,goethe said1 in that deep and     
large maxim1 ,of that which a man       
desires in his youth1 he shall have     
enough in his age4 ,that is one of the  
most singular things in life--at least  
this is my experience--how the things   
which one really desired1 not the things
 which one ought to have desired1 are   
showered upon one4 ,i have been amazed  
and even stupefied sometimes to consider
 how my own little petty1 foolish1      
whimsical desires have been faithfully  
and literally granted me4 ,we most of us
 do really translate into fact what we  
desire1 and as a rule we only fail to   
get the things which we have not desired
 enough4 ,it is true indeed that we     
often find that what we desired was not 
worth getting2 and we ought to be more  
afraid of our desires1 not because we   
shall not get them1 but because we shall
 almost certainly have them fulfilled4  

,for myself ,i can only think with shame
 how closely my present conditions do   
resemble my young desires1 in all their 
petty range1 their trivial              
particularity4 ,i suppose ,i have       
unconsciously pursued them1 chosen them1
 grasped at them2 and the shame of it is
 that if ,i had desired better things1  
,i should assuredly have been given     
them4 ,i see1 or seem to see1 the same  
thing in the lives of many that ,i know4
 ,what a man sows he shall reap6 ,that  
is taken generally to mean that if he   
sows pleasure1 he shall reap disaster2  
but it has a much truer and more        
terrible meaning than that--namely1 that
 if a man sows the seed of small1       
trivial1 foolish joys1 the grain that he
 reaps is small1 trivial1 and foolish   
too4 ,god is indeed in many ways an     
indulgent ,father1 like the ,father in  
the parable of the ,prodigal ,son2 and  
the best rebuke that ,he gives1 if we   
have the wisdom to see it1 is that ,he  
so often does hand us1 with a smile1 the

 very thing we have desired4 ,and thus  
it is well to pray that ,he should put  
into our minds good desires1 and that we
 should use our wills to keep ourselves 
from dwelling too much upon small and   
pitiful desires1 for the fear is that   
they will be abundantly gratified4  ,and
 thus when the time comes for           
recollection1 it is a very wonderful    
thing to look back over life1 and see   
how eagerly gracious ,god has been to   
us4 ,he knows very well that we cannot  
learn the paltry value of the things we 
desire1 if they are withheld from us1   
but only if they are granted to us2 and 
thus we have no reason to doubt ,his    
fatherly intention1 because ,he does so 
much dispose life to please us4 ,and we 
need not take it for granted that ,he   
will lead us by harsh and provocative   
discipline1 though when ,he grants our  
desire1 ,he sometimes sends leanness    
withal into our soul4 ,yet one of the   
things that strikes one most forcibly1  
as one grows older and learns something 

of the secrets of other lives1 is how   
lightly and serenely men and women do   
often bear what might seem to be        
intolerable calamities4 ,how universal  
an experience it is to find that when   
the expected calamity does come1 it is  
an easier affair than we thought it1 so 
that we say under the blow1 ,is that    
really all8 ,in that wonderful book1 the
 ,diary of ,sir ,walter ,scott1 when his
 bankruptcy fell upon him1 and all the  
schemes and designs that he had been    
carrying out1 with the joyful zest of a 
child--his toy-castle1 his feudal       
circle1 his wide estate--were suddenly  
suspended1 he wrote with an almost      
amused surprise that he found how little
 he really cared1 and that the people   
who spoke tenderly and sympathetically  
to him1 as though he must be reeling    
under the catastrophe1 would themselves 
be amazed to find that he found himself 
as cheerful and undaunted as ever4 ,life
 is apt1 for all vivid people1 to be a  
species of high-hearted game3 it is such

 fun to play it as eagerly as one can1  
and to persuade oneself that one really 
cares about the applause1 the money1 the
 fine house1 the comforts1 the          
deference1 the convenience of it all4   
,and yet1 if there is anything noble in 
a man or woman1 when the game is        
suddenly interrupted and the toys swept 
aside1 they find that there is something
 exciting and stimulating in having to  
do without1 in adapting themselves with 
zest to the new conditions4 ,it was a   
good game enough1 but the new game is   
better6 ,the failure is to take it all  
heavily and seriously1 to be solemn     
about it2 for then failure is           
disconcerting indeed4 ,but if one is    
interested in experience1 but yet has   
the vitality to see how detached one    
really is from material things1 how     
little they really affect us1 then the  
change is almost grateful4 ,it is the   
spirit of the game1 the activity1 the   
energy1 that delights us1 not the       
particular toy4 ,and so the looking back

 on life ought never to be a mournful   
thing2 it ought to be light-hearted1    
high-spirited1 amusing4 ,the spirit     
survives1 and there is yet much         
experience ahead of us4 ,we waste our   
sense of pathos very strangely over     
inanimate things4 ,we get to feel about 
the things that surround us1 our houses1
 our very chairs and tables1 as if they 
were somehow things that were actually  
attached to us4 ,we feel1 when the old  
house that has belonged to our family   
passes into other hands1 as though the  
rooms resented the intruders2 as though 
our sofas and cabinets could not be at  
ease in other hands1 as if they would   
almost prefer shabby and dusty inaction 
in our own lumber-room1 to cheerful use 
in some other circle4 ,this is a        
delusion of which we must make haste to 
get rid4 ,it is the weakest sort of     
sentiment1 and yet it is treasured by   
many natures as if it were something    
refined and noble4 ,to yield to it1 is  
to fetter our life with self-imposed and

 fantastic chains4 ,there is no sort of 
reason why we should not love to live   
among familiar things2 but to break our 
hearts over the loss of them is a real  
debasing of ourselves4 ,we must learn to
 use the things of life very lightly and
 detachedly2 and to entrench ourselves  
in trivial associations is simply to    
court dreariness and to fall into a     
stupor of the spirit4  ,and thus even   
our old memories must be treated with   
the same lightness and unaffectedness4  
,we must do all we can to forget grief  
and disaster4 ,we must not consecrate a 
shrine to sorrow and make the votive    
altar1 as ,dido did1 into a causa       
doloris1 an excuse for lamentation4 ,we 
must not think it an honourable and     
chivalrous and noble thing to spend our 
time in broken-hearted solemnity in the 
vaults of perished joys4 ,or if we do   
it1 we must frankly confess it to be a  
weakness and a languor of spirit1 not   
believe it to be a thing which others   
ought to admire and respect4 ,it was one

 of the base sentimentalities of the    
last century1 a real sign of the        
decadence of life1 that people felt it  
to be a fine thing to cherish grief1 and
 to live resolutely with sighs and      
tears4 ,the helpless widow of           
nineteenth-century fiction1 shrouded in 
crape1 and bursting into tears at the   
smallest sign of gaiety1 was a wholly   
unlovely1 affected1 dramatic affair4    
,and one of the surest signs of our     
present vitality is that this attitude  
has become not only unusual1 but frankly
 absurd and unfashionable4 ,there is an 
intense and gallant pathos about a      
nature broken by sorrow1 making         
desperate attempts to be cheerful and   
active1 and not to cast a shadow of     
grief upon others4 ,there is no pathos  
at all in the sight of a person bent on 
emphasising his or her grief1 on using  
it to make others uncomfortable1 on     
extracting a recognition of its loyalty 
and fidelity and emotional fervour4  ,of
 course there are some memories and     

experiences that must grave a deep and  
terrible mark upon the heart1 the shock 
of which has been so severe1 that the   
current of life must necessarily be     
altered by them4 ,but even then it is   
better as far as possible to forget them
 and to put them away from us--at all   
events1 not to indulge them or dwell in 
them4 ,to yield is simply to delay the  
pilgrimage1 to fall exhausted in some   
unhappy arbour by the road4 ,the road   
has to be travelled1 every inch of it1  
and it is better to struggle on in      
feebleness than to collapse in despair4 
,mrs4 ,charles ,kingsley1 in her        
widowhood1 once said to a friend1       
,whenever ,i find myself thinking too   
much about ,charles1 ,i simply force    
myself to read the most exciting novel  
,i can4 ,he is there1 he is waiting for 
me2 and hearts were made to love with1  
not to break4  ,and as the years go on1 
even the most terrible memories grow to 
have the grace and beauty which nature  
lavishes on all the relics of extinct   

forces and spent agonies4 ,they become  
like the old grey broken castle1 with   
the grasses on its ledges1 and the crows
 nesting in its parapets1 rising blind  
and dumb on its green mound1 with the   
hamlet at its feet2 or like the craggy  
islet1 severed by the raging sea from   
the towering headland1 where the        
samphire sprouts in the rift1 and the   
sea-birds roost1 at whose foot the      
surges lap1 and over whose head the     
landward wind blows swiftly all the day4
     ,,xiii  ,,retrospect   ,but one    
must not forget that after all memory   
has another side1 too often a rueful    
side1 and that it often seems to turn   
sour and poisonous in the sharp decline 
of fading life2 and this ought not to   
be4 ,i would like to describe a little  
experience of my own which came to me as
 a surprise1 but showed me clearly      
enough what memory can be and what it   
rightly is1 if it is to feed the spirit 
at all4  ,not very long ago ,i visited  
,lincoln1 where my father was ,canon and

 ,chancellor from #ahgb to #ahgg4 ,i had
 only been there once since then1 and   
that was twenty-four years ago4 ,when we
 lived there ,i was a small ,eton boy1  
so that it was always holiday time      
there1 and a place which recalls nothing
 but school holidays has perhaps an     
unfair advantage4 ,moreover it was a    
period quite unaccompanied1 in our      
family life1 by any sort of trouble1    
illness1 or calamity4 ,the ,chancery of 
,lincoln is connected in my mind with no
 tragic or even sorrowful event         
whatever1 and suggests no painful       
reminiscence4 ,how many people1 ,i      
wonder1 can say that of any home that   
has sheltered them for so long8  ,of    
course ,lincoln itself1 quite apart from
 any memories or associations1 is a     
place to kindle much emotion4 ,it was a 
fine sunny day there1 and the colour of 
the whole place was amazing--the rich   
warm hue of the stone of which the      
,minster is built1 which takes on a fine
 ochre-brown tinge where it is          

weathered1 gives it a look of homely    
comfort1 apart from the matchless       
dignity of clustered transept and       
soaring towers4 ,then the glowing and   
mellow brick of ,lincoln1 its scarlet   
roof tiles--what could be more          
satisfying for instance than the dash of
 vivid red in the tiling of the old     
,palace as you see it on the slope among
 its gardens from the opposite          
upland8--its smoke-blackened faades1 the
 abundance1 all over the hill1 of old   
embowered gardens1 full of trees and    
thickets and greenery1 its grassy       
spaces1 its creeper-clad houses2 the    
whole effect is one of extraordinary    
richness of hue1 of age vividly         
exuberant1 splendidly adorned4  ,i      
wandered transported about ,cathedral   
and close1 and became aware then of how 
strangely unadventurous in the matter of
 exploration one had always been as a   
boy4 ,it was true that we children had  
scampered with my father's master-key   
from end to end of the ,cathedral--wet  

mornings used constantly to be spent    
there--so that ,i know every staircase1 
gallery1 clerestory1 parapet1 triforium1
 and roof-vault of the building--but ,i 
found in the close itself many houses1  
alleys1 little streets1 which ,i had    
actually never seen1 or even suspected  
their existence4  ,it was all full of   
little ghosts1 and a tiny vignette      
shaped itself in memory at every corner1
 of some passing figure--a good-natured 
,canon1 a youthful friend1 ,levite or   
,nethinim1 or some deadly enemy1 the son
 perhaps of some old-established denizen
 of the close1 with whom for some       
unknown reason the ,chancery schoolroom 
proclaimed an inflexible feud4  ,but    
when ,i came to see the old house       
itself--so little changed1 so distinctly
 recollected--then ,i was indeed amazed 
at the torrent of little happy fragrant 
memories which seemed to pour from every
 doorway and window--the games1 the     
meals1 the plays1 the literary projects1
 the readings1 the telling of stories1  

the endless1 pointless1 enchanting      
wanderings with some breathless object  
in view1 forgotten or transformed before
 it was ever attained or executed1 of   
which children alone hold the secret4   
,best of all do ,i recollect long summer
 afternoons spent in the great secluded 
high-walled garden at the back1 with its
 orchard1 its mound covered with        
thickets1 and the old tower of the city 
wall1 which made a noble fortress in    
games of prowess or adventure4 ,i can   
see the figure of my father in his      
cassock1 holding a little book1 walking 
up and down among the gooseberry-beds   
half the morning1 as he developed one of
 his unwritten sermons for the ,minster 
on the following day4  ,i do not        
remember that very affectionate         
relations existed between us children2  
it was a society1 based on good-humoured
 tolerance and a certain democratic     
respect for liberty1 that nursery group2
 it had its cliques1 its sections1 its  
political emphasis1 its diplomacies2 but

 it was cordial rather than emotional1  
and bound together by common interests  
rather than by mutual devotion4  ,this1 
for instance1 was one of the ludicrous  
incidents which came back to me4 ,there 
was an odd little medival room on the   
ground-floor1 given up as a sort of     
study1 in the school sense1 to my elder 
brother and myself4 ,my younger brother1
 aged almost eight1 to show his power1  
,i suppose1 or to protest against some  
probably quite real grievance or        
tangible indignity1 came there secretly 
one morning in our absence1 took a      
shovelful of red-hot coals from the     
fire1 laid them on the hearth-rug1 and  
departed4 ,the conflagration was        
discovered in time1 the author of the   
crime detected1 and even the most       
tolerant of supporters of nursery       
anarchy could find nothing to criticise 
or condemn in the punishment justly     
meted out to the offender4  ,but here   
was the extraordinary part of it all4 ,i
 am myself somewhat afraid of emotional 

retrospect1 which seems to me as a rule 
to have a peculiarly pungent and        
unbearable smart about it4 ,i do not as 
a rule like revisiting places which ,i  
have loved and where ,i have been happy2
 it is simply incurring quite           
unnecessary pain1 and quite fruitless   
pain1 deliberately to unearth buried    
memories of happiness4  ,now at ,lincoln
 the other day ,i found1 to my wonder   
and relief1 that there was not the least
 touch of regret1 no sense of sorrow or 
loss in the air4 ,i did not want it all 
back again1 nor would ,i have lived     
through it again1 even if ,i could have 
done so4 ,the thought of returning to it
 seemed puerile2 it was charming1       
delightful1 all full of golden prospects
 and sunny mornings1 but an experience  
which had yielded up its sweetness as a 
summer cloud yields its cooling rain1   
and passes over4 ,yet it was all a      
perfectly true1 real1 and actual part of
 my life1 something of which ,i could   
never lose hold and for which ,i could  

always be frankly grateful4 ,life has   
been by no means a scene of untroubled  
happiness since then2 but there came to 
me that day1 walking along the fragrant 
garden-paths1 very clearly and          
distinctly1 the knowledge that one would
 not wish one's life to have been       
untroubled6 ,halcyon calm1 heedless     
innocence1 childish joy1 was not after  
all the point--pretty things enough1 but
 only as a change and a relief1 or      
perhaps rather as a prelude to more     
serious business6 ,i was1 as a boy1     
afraid of life1 hated its noise and     
scent1 suspected it of cruelty and      
coarseness1 wanted to keep it at arm's  
length4 ,i feel very differently about  
life now2 it's a boisterous business    
enough1 but does not molest one unduly2 
and a very little courage goes a long   
way in dealing with it6  ,true1 on      
looking back1 the evolution was dim and 
obscure2 there seemed many blind alleys 
and passages1 many unnecessary winds and
 turns in the road2 but for all that the

 trend was clear enough1 at all events1 
to show that there was some great and   
not unkindly conspiracy about me and my 
concerns1 involving every one else's    
concerns as well1 some good-humoured    
mystery1 with a dash of shadow and      
sorrow across it perhaps1 which would be
 soon cleared up2 some secret withheld  
as from a child1 the very withholder of 
which seems to struggle with            
good-tempered laughter1 partly at one's 
dulness in not being able to guess1     
partly at the pleasure in store4  ,i    
think it is our impatience1 our claim to
 have everything questionable made      
instantly and perfectly plain to us1    
which does the mischief--that1 and the  
imagination which never can forecast any
 relief or surcease of pain1 and pays no
 heed whatever to the astounding        
brevity1 the unutterable rapidity of    
human life4  ,so1 as ,i walked in the   
old garden1 ,i simply rejoiced that ,i  
had a share in the place which could not
 be gainsaid2 and that1 even if the high

 towers themselves1 with their melodious
 bells1 should crumble into dust1 ,i    
still had my dear memory of it all3 the 
old life1 the old voices1 looks1        
embraces1 came back in little glimpses2 
yet it was far away1 long past1 and ,i  
did not wish it back2 the present seemed
 a perfectly natural and beautiful      
sequence1 and that past life an old     
sweet chapter of some happy book1 which 
needs no rewriting4  ,so ,i looked back 
in joy and tenderness--and even with a  
sort of compassion2 the child whom ,i   
saw sauntering along the grass paths of 
the garden1 shaking the globed rain out 
of the poppy's head1 gathering the waxen
 apples from the orchard grass1 he was  
myself in very truth--there was no      
doubting that2 ,i hardly felt different4
 ,but ,i had gained something which he  
had not got1 some opening of eye and    
heart2 and he had yet to bear1 to       
experience1 to pass through1 the days   
which ,i had done with1 and which1 in   
spite of their much sweetness1 had yet a

 bitterness1 as of a healing drug1      
underneath them1 and which ,i did not   
wish to taste again4 ,no1 ,i desired no 
renewal of old things1 only the power of
 interpreting the things that were new1 
and through which even now one was      
passing swiftly and carelessly1 as the  
boy ran among the fruit-trees of the    
garden2 but it was not the golden       
fragrant husk of happiness that one     
wanted1 but the seed hidden within      
it--experience was made sweet just that 
one might be tempted to live6 ,yet the  
end of it all was not the pleasure or   
the joy that came and passed1 the       
gaiety1 even the innocence of childhood1
 but something stern and strong1 which  
hardly showed at all at first1 but at   
last seemed like the slow work of the   
graver of gems brushing away the        
glittering crystalline dust from the    
intaglio4     ,,xiv  ,,humour   ,the    
,castle of ,joyous ,gard was always full
 of laughter2 not the wild giggling1 ,i 
think1 of reckless people1 which the    

writer of ,proverbs said was like the   
crackling of thorns under a pot2 that is
 a wearisome and even an ugly thing1    
because it does not mean that people are
 honestly amused1 but have some basely  
exciting thing in their minds4 ,laughter
 must be light-hearted1 not             
light-minded4 ,still less was it the    
dismal tittering of ill-natured people  
over mean gossip1 which is another of   
the ugly sounds of life4 ,no1 ,i think  
it was rather the laughter of cheerful  
people1 glad to be amused1 who hardly   
knew that they were laughing2 that is a 
wholesome exercise enough4 ,it was the  
laughter of men and women1 with heavy   
enough business behind them and before  
them1 but yet able in leisurely hours to
 find life full of merriment--the voice 
of joy and health6 ,and ,i am sure too  
that it was not the guarded             
condescending laughter of saints who do 
not want to be out of sympathy with     
their neighbours1 and laugh as precisely
 and punctually as they might respond to

 a liturgy1 if they discover that they  
are meant to be amused6  ,humour is one 
of the characteristics of ,joyous ,gard1
 not humour resolutely cultivated1 but  
the humour which comes from a sane and  
healthy sense of proportion2 and is a   
sign of light-heartedness rather than a 
thing aimed at2 a thing which flows     
naturally into the easy spaces of life1 
because it finds the oddities of life1  
the peculiarities of people1 the        
incongruities of thought and speech1    
both charming and delightful4  ,it is a 
great misfortune that so many people    
think it a mark of saintliness to be    
easily shocked1 whereas the greatest    
saints of all are the people who are    
never shocked2 they may be distressed1  
they may wish things different2 but to  
be shocked is often nothing but a mark  
of vanity1 a self-conscious desire that 
others should know how high one's       
standard1 how sensitive one's conscience
 is4 ,i do not of course mean that one  
is bound to join in laughter1 however   

coarse a jest may be2 but the best-bred 
and finest-tempered people steer past   
such moments with a delicate tact2      
contrive to show that an ugly jest is   
not so much a thing to be disapproved of
 and rebuked1 as a sign that the jester 
is not recognising the rights of his    
company1 and outstepping the laws of    
civility and decency4  ,it is a very    
difficult thing to say what humour is1  
and probably it is a thing that is not  
worth trying to define4 ,it resides in  
the incongruity of speech and behaviour 
with the surrounding circumstances4  ,i 
remember once seeing two tramps         
disputing by the roadside1 with the     
gravity which is given to human beings  
by being slightly overcome with drink4  
,i suppose that one ought not to be     
amused by the effects of drunkenness1   
but after all one does not wish people  
to be drunk that one may be amused4 ,the
 two tramps in question were ragged and 
infinitely disreputable4 ,just as ,i    
came up1 the more tattered of the two   

flung his hat on the ground1 with a     
lofty gesture like that of a king       
abdicating1 and said1 ,i'll go no       
further with you6 ,the other said1 ,why 
do you say that8 ,why will you go no    
further with me8 ,the first replied1    
,no1 ,i'll go no further with you6 ,the 
other said1 ,i must know why you will go
 no further with me--you must tell me   
that6 ,the first replied1 with great    
dignity1 ,well1 ,i will tell you that6  
,it lowers my self-respect to be seen   
with a man like you6  ,that is the sort 
of incongruity ,i mean4 ,the tragic     
solemnity of a man who might have       
changed clothes with the nearest        
scarecrow without a perceptible         
difference1 and whose life was evidently
 not ordered by any excessive           
self-respect1 falling back on the       
dignity of human nature in order to be  
rid of a companion as disreputable as   
himself1 is what makes the scene so     
grotesque1 and yet in a sense so        
impressive1 because it shows a lurking  

standard of conduct which no            
pitiableness of degradation could       
obliterate4 ,i think that is a good     
illustration of what ,i mean by humour1 
because in the presence of such a scene 
it is possible to have three perfectly  
distinct emotions4 ,one may be sorry    
with all one's heart that men should    
fall to such conditions1 and feel that  
it is a stigma on our social machinery  
that it should be so4 ,those two        
melancholy figures were a sad blot upon 
the wholesome countryside6 ,yet one may 
also discern a hope in the mere         
possibility of framing an ideal under   
such discouraging circumstances1 which  
will be1 ,i have no sort of doubt1 a    
seed of good in the upward progress of  
the poor soul which grasped it2 because 
indeed ,i have no doubt that the        
miserable creature is on an upward path1
 and that even if there is no prospect  
for him in this life of anything but a  
dismal stumbling down into disease and  
want1 yet ,i do not in the least believe

 that that is the end of his horizon or 
his pilgrimage2 and thirdly1 one may be 
genuinely and not in the least evilly   
amused at the contrast between the      
disreputable squalor of the scene and   
the lofty claim advanced4 ,the three    
emotions are not at all inconsistent4   
,the pessimistic moralist might say that
 it was all very shocking1 the          
optimistic moralist might say that it   
was hopeful1 the unreflective humourist 
might simply be transported by the      
absurdity2 yet not to be amused at such 
a scene would appear to me to be both   
dull and priggish4 ,it seems to me to be
 a false solemnity to be shocked at any 
lapses from perfection2 a man might as  
well be shocked at the existence of a   
poisonous snake or a ravening tiger4    
,one must see life steadily and see it  
whole1 and though we may and must hope  
that we shall struggle upwards out of   
the mess1 we may still be amused at the 
dolorous figures we cut in the mire4  ,i
 was once in the company of a grave1    

decorous1 and well-dressed person who   
fell helplessly into a stream off a     
stepping-stone4 ,i had no wish that he  
should fall1 and ,i was perfectly       
conscious of intense sympathy with his  
discomfort2 but ,i found the scene quite
 inexpressibly diverting1 and ,i still  
simmer with laughter at the recollection
 of the disappearance of the trim       
figure1 and his furious emergence1 like 
an oozy water-god1 from the pool4 ,it is
 not in the least an ill-natured        
laughter4 ,i did not desire the         
catastrophe1 and ,i would have prevented
 it if ,i could2 but it was dreadfully  
funny for all that2 and if a similar    
thing had happened to myself1 ,i should 
not resent the enjoyment of the scene by
 a spectator1 so long as ,i was helped  
and sympathised with1 and the merriment 
decently repressed before me4  ,i think 
that what is called practical joking1   
which aims at deliberately producing    
such situations1 is a wholly detestable 
thing4 ,but it is one thing to sacrifice

 another person's comfort to one's      
laughter1 and quite another to be amused
 at what a fire-insurance policy calls  
the act of ,god4  ,and ,i am very sure  
of this1 that the sane1 healthy1        
well-balanced nature must have a fund of
 wholesome laughter in him1 and that so 
far from trying to repress a sense of   
humour1 as an unkind1 unworthy1 inhuman 
thing1 there is no capacity of human    
nature which makes life so frank and    
pleasant a business4 ,there are no      
companions so delightful as the people  
for whom one treasures up jests and     
reminiscences1 because one is sure that 
they will respond to them and enjoy     
them2 and indeed ,i have found that the 
power of being irresponsibly amused has 
come to my aid in the middle of really  
tragic and awful circumstances1 and has 
relieved the strain more than anything  
else could have done4  ,i do not say    
that humour is a thing to be endlessly  
indulged and sought after2 but to be    
genuinely amused is a sign of courage   

and amiability1 and a sign too that a   
man is not self-conscious and           
self-absorbed4 ,it ought not to be a    
settled pre-occupation4 ,nothing is more
 wearisome than the habitual jester1    
because that signifies that a man is    
careless and unobservant of the moods of
 others4 ,but it is a thing which should
 be generously and freely mingled with  
life2 and the more sides that a man can 
see to any situation1 the more rich and 
full his nature is sure to be4  ,after  
all1 our power of taking a light-hearted
 view of life is proportional to our    
interest in it1 our belief in it1 our   
hopes of it4 ,of course1 if we conclude 
from our little piece of remembered     
experience1 that life is a woeful thing1
 we shall be apt to do as the old poets 
thought the nightingale did1 to lean our
 breast against a thorn1 that we may    
suffer the pain which we propose to     
utter in liquid notes4 ,but that seems  
to me a false sentiment and an          
artificial mode of life1 to luxuriate in

 sorrow2 even that is better than being 
crushed by it2 but we may be sure that  
if we wilfully allow ourselves to be    
one-sided1 it is a delaying of our      
progress4 ,all experience comes to us   
that we may not be one-sided2 and if we 
learn to weep with those that weep1 we  
must remember that it is no less our    
business to rejoice with those that     
rejoice4 ,we are helped beyond measure  
by those who can tell us and convince   
us1 as poets can1 that there is         
something beautiful in sorrow and loss  
and severed ties2 by those who show us  
the splendour of courage and patience   
and endurance2 but the true faith is to 
believe that the end is joy2 and we     
therefore owe perhaps the largest debt  
of all to those who encourage us to     
enjoy1 to laugh1 to smile1 to be amused4
  ,and so we must not retire into our   
fortress simply for lonely visions1     
sweet contemplation1 gentle imagination2
 there are rooms in our castle fit for  
that1 the little book-lined cell1 facing

 the sunset1 the high parlour1 where the
 gay1 brisk music comes tripping down   
from the minstrels' gallery1 the dim    
chapel for prayer1 and the chamber      
called ,peace--where the pilgrim slept  
till break of day1 and then he awoke and
 sang2 but there is also the            
well-lighted hall1 with cheerful company
 coming and going2 where we must put our
 secluded1 wistful1 sorrowful thought   
aside1 and mingle briskly with the      
pleasant throng1 not steeling ourselves 
to mirth and movement1 but simply glad  
and grateful to be there4  ,it was while
 ,i was writing these pages that a      
friend told me that he had recently met 
a man1 a merchant1 ,i think1 who did me 
the honour to discuss my writings at a  
party and to pronounce an opinion upon  
them4 ,he said that ,i wrote many things
 which ,i did not believe1 and then     
stood aside1 and was amused in a        
humorous mood to see that other people  
believed them4 ,it would be absurd to   
be1 or even to feel1 indignant at such a

 travesty of my purpose as this1 and    
indeed ,i think that one is never very  
indignant at misrepresentation unless   
one's mind accuses itself of its being  
true or partially true4  ,it is indeed  
true that ,i have said things about     
which ,i have since changed my mind1 as 
indeed ,i hope ,i shall continue to     
change it1 and as swiftly as possible1  
if ,i see that the former opinions are  
not justified4 ,to be thus criticised   
is1 ,i think1 the perfectly natural     
penalty of having tried to be serious   
without being also solemn2 there are    
many people1 and many of them very      
worthy people1 like our friend the      
merchant1 who cannot believe one is in  
earnest if one is not also heavy-handed4
 ,earnestness is mixed up in their minds
 with bawling and sweating2 and indeed  
it is quite true that most people who   
are willing to bawl and sweat in public1
 feel earnestly about the subjects to   
which they thus address themselves4 ,but
 ,i do not see that earnestness is in   

the least incompatible with lightness of
 touch and even with humour1 though ,i  
have sometimes been accused of          
displaying none4 ,socrates was in       
earnest about his ideas1 but the penalty
 he paid for treating them lightly was  
that he was put to death for being so   
sceptical4 ,i should not at all like the
 idea of being put to death for my      
ideas2 but ,i am wholly in earnest about
 them1 and have never consciously said  
anything in which ,i did not believe4   
,but ,i will go one step further and say
 that ,i think that many earnest men do 
great harm to the causes they advocate1 
because they treat ideas so heavily1 and
 divest them of their charm4 ,one of the
 reasons why virtue and goodness are not
 more attractive is because they get    
into the hands of people without        
lightness or humour1 and even without   
courtesy2 and thus the pursuit of virtue
 seems not only to the young1 but to    
many older people1 to be a boring       
occupation1 and to be conducted in an   

atmosphere heavy with disapproval1 with 
dreariness and dulness and tiresomeness 
hemming the neophyte in1 like fat bulls 
of ,bashan4 ,it is because ,i should    
like to rescue goodness1 which is the   
best thing in the world1 next to love1  
from these growing influences1 that ,i  
have written as ,i have done2 but there 
is no lurking cynicism in my books at   
all1 and the worst thing ,i can accuse  
myself of is a sense of humour1 perhaps 
whimsical and childish1 which seems to  
me to make a pleasant and refreshing    
companion1 as one passes on pilgrimage  
in search of what ,i believe to be very 
high and heavenly things indeed4        
,,xv  ,,visions   ,i used as a child to 
pore over the ,apocalypse1 which ,i     
thought by far the most beautiful and   
absorbing of all the books of the       
,bible2 it seemed full of rich and dim  
pictures1 things which ,i could not     
interpret and did not wish to interpret1
 the shining of clear gem-like walls1   
lonely riders1 amazing monsters1 sealed 

books1 all of which took perfectly      
definite shape in the childish          
imagination4 ,the consequence is that ,i
 can no more criticise it than ,i could 
criticise old tapestries or pictures    
familiar from infancy4 ,they are there1 
just so1 and any difference of form is  
inconceivable4  ,in one point1 however1 
the strange visions have come to hold   
for me an increased grandeur2 ,i used to
 think of much of it as a sort of       
dramatic performance1 self-consciously  
enacted for the benefit of the          
spectator2 but now ,i think of it as an 
awful and spontaneous energy of         
spiritual life going on1 of which the   
prophet was enabled to catch a glimpse4 
,those 'voices crying day and night'    
'the new song that was sung before the  
throne1' the cry of ,come and see--these
 were but part of a vast and urgent     
business1 which the prophet was allowed 
to overhear4 ,it is not a silent place1 
that highest heaven1 of indolence and   
placid peace1 but a scene of fierce     

activity and the clamour of mighty      
voices4  ,and it is the same too of     
another strange scene--the              
,transfiguration2 not an impressive     
spectacle arranged for the apostles1 but
 a peep into the awful background behind
 life4 ,let me use a simple parable3    
imagine a man who had a friend whom he  
greatly admired and loved1 and suppose  
him to be talking with his friend1 who  
suddenly excuses himself on the plea of 
an engagement and goes out2 and the     
other follows him1 out of curiosity1 and
 sees him meet another man and talk     
intently with him1 not deferentially or 
humbly1 but as a man talks with an      
equal4 ,and then drawing nearer he might
 suddenly see that the man his friend   
has gone out to meet1 and with whom he  
is talking so intently1 is some high    
minister of ,state1 or even the ,king   
himself6  ,that is a simple comparison1 
to make clear what the apostles might   
have felt4 ,they had gone into the      
mountain expecting to hear their ,master

 speak quietly to them or betake himself
 to silent prayer2 and then they find   
him robed in light and holding converse 
with the spirits of the air1 telling his
 plans1 so to speak1 to two great       
prophets of the ancient world4  ,if this
 had been but a pageant enacted for     
their benefit to dazzle and bewilder    
them1 it would have been a poor and     
self-conscious affair2 but it becomes a 
scene of portentous mystery1 if one     
thinks of them as being permitted to    
have a glimpse of the high1 urgent1 and 
terrifying things that were going on all
 the time in the unseen background of   
the ,saviour's mind4 ,the essence of the
 greatness of the scene is that it was  
overheard4 ,and thus ,i think that      
wonder and beauty1 those two mighty     
forces1 take on a very different value  
for us when we can come to realise that 
they are small hints given us1 tiny     
glimpses conceded to us1 of some very   
great and mysterious thing that is      
pressingly and speedily proceeding1     

every day and every hour1 in the vast   
background of life2 and we ought to     
realise that it is not only human life  
as we see it which is the active1 busy1 
forceful thing2 that the world with all 
its noisy cities1 its movements and its 
bustle1 is not a burning point hung in  
darkness and silence1 but that it is    
just a little fretful affair with       
infinitely larger1 louder1 fiercer1     
stronger powers1 working1 moving1       
pressing onwards1 thundering in the     
background2 and that the huge forces1   
laws1 activities1 behind the world1 are 
not perceived by us any more than we    
perceive the vast motion of great winds1
 except in so far as we see the face of 
the waters rippled by them1 or the trees
 bowed all one way in their passage4    
,it is very easy to be so taken up with 
the little absorbing businesses1 the    
froth and ripple of life1 that we forget
 what great and secret influences they  
must be that cause them2 we must not    
forget that we are only like children   

playing in the nursery of a palace1     
while in the ,council-room beneath us a 
debate may be going on which is to      
affect the lives and happiness of       
thousands of households4  ,and therefore
 the more that we make up our little    
beliefs and ideas1 as a man folds up a  
little packet of food which he is to eat
 on a journey1 and think in so doing    
that we have got a satisfactory         
explanation of all our aims and         
problems1 the more utterly we are       
failing to take in the significance of  
what is happening4 ,we must never allow 
ourselves to make up our minds1 and to  
get our theories comfortably settled1   
because then experience is at an end for
 us1 and we shall see no more than we   
expect to see4 ,we ought rather to be   
amazed and astonished1 day by day1 at   
all the wonderful and beautiful things  
we encounter1 the marvellous hints of   
loveliness which we see in faces1 woods1
 hills1 gardens1 all showing some       
tremendous force at work1 often         

thwarted1 often spoiled1 but still      
working1 with an infinity of tender     
patience1 to make the world exquisite   
and fine4 ,there are ugly1 coarse1      
disgusting things at work too--we cannot
 help seeing that2 but even many of them
 seem to be destroying1 in corruption   
and evil odour1 something that ought not
 to be there1 and striving to be clean  
and pure again4  ,i often wonder whose  
was the mind that conceived the visions 
of the ,apocalypse2 if we can trust     
tradition1 it was a confined and exiled 
,christian in a lonely island1 whose    
spirit reached out beyond the little    
crags and the beating seas of his       
prison1 and in the seeming silent heaven
 detected the gathering of monsters1 the
 war of relentless forces--and beyond it
 all the radiant energies of saints1    
glad to be together and unanimous1 in a 
place where light and beauty at last    
could reign triumphant4  ,i know no     
literature more ineffably dreary than   
the parcelling out of these wild and    

glorious visions1 the attaching of them 
to this and that petty human fulfilment4
 ,that is not the secret of the         
,apocalypse6 ,it is rather as a painter 
may draw a picture of two lovers sitting
 together at evening in a latticed      
chamber1 holding each other's hands1    
gazing in each other's eyes4 ,he is not 
thinking of particular persons in an    
actual house2 it is rather a hint of    
love making itself manifest1 recognising
 itself to be met with an answering     
rapture4 ,and what ,i think that the    
prophet meant was rather to show that we
 must not be deceived by cares and      
anxieties and daily business2 but that  
behind the little simmering of the world
 was a tumult of vast forces1 voices    
crying and answering1 thunder1 fire1    
infinite music4 ,it is all a command to 
recognise unseen greatness1 to take     
every least experience we can1 and crush
 from it all its savour2 not to be      
afraid of the great emotions of the     
world1 love and sorrow and loss2 but    

only to be afraid of what is petty and  
sordid and mean4 ,and then perhaps1 as  
in that other vision1 we may ascend once
 into a mountain1 and there in weariness
 and drowsiness1 dumbly bewildered by   
the night and the cold and the          
discomforts of the unkindly air1 life   
may be for a moment transfigured into a 
radiant figure1 still familiar though so
 glorified2 and we may see it for once  
touch hands and exchange words with old 
and wise spirits2 and all this not only 
to excite us and bewilder us1 but so    
that by the drawing of the veil aside1  
we may see for a moment that there is   
some high and splendid secret1 some     
celestial business proceeding with      
solemn patience and strange             
momentousness1 a rite which if we cannot
 share1 we may at least know is there1  
and waiting for us1 the moment that we  
are strong enough to take our part6     
,,xvi  ,,thought   ,a friend of mine had
 once a strange dream2 he seemed to     
himself to be walking in a day of high  

summer on a grassy moorland leading up  
to some fantastically piled granite     
crags4 ,he made his way slowly thither2 
it was terribly hot there among the     
sun-warmed rocks1 and he found a little 
natural cave1 among the great boulders1 
fringed with fern4 ,there he sate for a 
long time while the sun passed over1 and
 a little breeze came wandering up the  
moor4 ,opposite him as he sate was the  
face of a great pile of rocks1 and while
 his eye dwelt upon it it suddenly began
 to wink and glisten with little moving 
points1 dots so minute that he could    
hardly distinguish them4 ,suddenly1 as  
if at a signal1 the little points       
dropped from the rock1 and the whole    
surface seemed alive with gossamer      
threads1 as if a silken1 silvery curtain
 had been let down2 presently the little
 dots reached the grass and began to    
crawl over it2 and then he saw that each
 of them was attached to one of the fine
 threads2 and he thought that they were 
a colony of minute spiders1 living on   

the face of the rocks4 ,he got up to see
 this wonder close at hand1 but the     
moment he moved1 the whole curtain was  
drawn up with incredible swiftness1 as  
if the threads were highly elastic2 and 
when he reached the rock1 it was as hard
 and solid as before1 nor could he      
discover any sign of the little         
creatures4 ,ah1 he said to himself in   
the dream1 that is the meaning of the   
living rock6 and he became aware1 he    
thought1 that all rocks and stones on   
the surface of the earth must be thus   
endowed with life1 and that the rocks   
were1 so to speak1 but the shell that   
contained these innumerable little      
creatures1 incredibly minute1 living1   
silken threads1 with a small head1 like 
boring worms1 inhabiting burrows which  
went far into the heart of the granite1 
and each with a strong retractile power4
  ,i told this dream to a geologist the 
other day1 who laughed1 ,an ingenious   
idea1 he said1 and there may even be    
something in it6 ,it is not by any means

 certain that stones do not have a      
certain obscure life of their own2 ,i   
have sometimes thought that their       
marvellous cohesion may be a sign of    
life1 and that if life were withdrawn1 a
 mountain might in a moment become a    
heap of sliding sand4  ,my friend said  
that the dream made such an impression  
upon him that for a time he found it    
hard to believe that stones and rocks   
had not this strange and secret life    
lurking in their recesses2 and indeed it
 has since stood to me as a symbol of   
life1 haunting and penetrating all the  
very hardest and driest things4 ,it     
seems to me that just as there are      
almost certainly more colours than our  
eyes can perceive1 and sounds either too
 acute or too deliberate for our ears to
 hear1 so the domain of life may be much
 further extended in the earth1 the air1
 the waters1 than we can tangibly       
detect4  ,it seems too to show me that  
it is our business to try ceaselessly to
 discover the secret life of thought in 

the world2 not to conclude that there is
 no vitality in thought unless we can   
ourselves at once perceive it4 ,this is 
particularly the case with books4       
,sometimes1 in our ,college ,library1 ,i
 take down an old folio from the        
shelves1 and as ,i turn the crackling1  
stained1 irregular pages--it may be a   
volume of controversial divinity or     
outworn philosophy--it seems impossible 
to imagine that it can ever have been   
woven out of the live brain of man1 or  
that any one can ever have been found to
 follow those old1 vehement1 insecure   
arguments1 starting from unproved data1 
and leading to erroneous and fanciful   
conclusions4 ,the whole thing seems so  
faded1 so dreary1 so remote from        
reality1 that one cannot even dimly     
imagine the frame of mind which         
originated it1 and still less the mood  
which fed upon such things4  ,yet ,i    
very much doubt if the aims1 ideas1     
hopes of man1 have altered very much    
since the time of the earliest records4 

,when one comes to realise that         
geologists reckon a period of thirty    
million years at least1 while the       
,triassic rocks1 that is the lowest     
stratum that shows signs of life1 were  
being laid down2 and that all recorded  
history is but an infinitesimal drop in 
the ocean of unrecorded time1 one sees  
at least that the force behind the      
world1 by whatever name we call it1 is a
 force that cannot by any means be      
hurried1 but that it works with a       
leisureliness which we with our brief   
and hasty span of life cannot really in 
any sense conceive4 ,still it seems to  
have a plan6 ,those strange horned1     
humped1 armoured beasts of prehistoric  
rocks are all bewilderingly like        
ourselves so far as physical            
construction goes2 they had heart1      
brain1 eyes1 lungs1 legs1 a similarly   
planned skeleton2 it seems as if the    
creative spirit was working by a        
well-conceived pattern1 was trying to   
make a very definite kind of thing2     

there is not by any means an infinite   
variety1 when one considers the sort of 
creatures that even a man could devise  
and invent1 if he tried4  ,there is the 
same sort of continuity and unity in    
thought ,the preoccupations of man are  
the same in all ages--to provide for his
 material needs1 and to speculate what  
can possibly happen to his spirit1 when 
the body1 broken by accident or disease 
or decay1 can no longer contain his     
soul4 ,the best thought of man has      
always been centred on trying to devise 
some sort of future hope which could    
encourage him to live eagerly1 to endure
 patiently1 to act rightly4 ,as science 
opens her vast volume before us1 we     
naturally become more and more impatient
 of the hasty guesses of man1 in        
religion and philosophy1 to define what 
we cannot yet know2 but we ought to be  
very tender of the old passionate       
beliefs1 the intense desire to credit   
noble and lofty spirits1 such as ,buddha
 and ,mahomet1 with some source of      

divinely given knowledge4 ,yet of course
 there is an inevitable sadness when we 
find the old certainties dissolving in  
mist2 and we must be very careful to    
substitute for them1 if they slip from  
our grasp1 some sort of principle which 
will give us freshness and courage4 ,to 
me1 ,i confess1 the tiny certainties of 
science are far more inspiring than the 
most ardent reveries of imaginative men4
 ,the knowledge that there is in the    
world an inflexible order1 and that we  
shall see what we shall see1 and not    
what we would like to believe1 is       
infinitely refreshing and sustaining4 ,i
 feel that ,i am journeying onwards into
 what is unknown to me1 but into        
something which is inevitably there1 and
 not to be altered by my own hopes and  
fancies4 ,it is like taking a voyage1   
the pleasure of which is that the sights
 in store are unexpected and novel2 for 
a voyage would be a very poor thing if  
we knew exactly what lay ahead1 and     
poorer still if we could determine      

beforehand what we meant to see1 and    
could only behold the pictures of our   
own imaginations4 ,that is the charm and
 the use of experience1 that it is not  
at all what we expect or hope4 ,it is in
 some ways sadder and darker2 but it is 
in most ways far more rich and wonderful
 and radiant than we had dreamed4  ,what
 ,i grow impatient of are the censures  
of rigid people1 who desire to limit the
 hopes and possibilities of others by   
the little foot-rule which they have    
made for themselves4 ,that is a very    
petty and even a very wicked thing to   
do1 that old persecuting instinct which 
says1 ,i will make it as unpleasant for 
you as ,i can1 if you will not consent  
at all events to pretend to believe what
 ,i think it right to believe4 ,a man of
 science does not want to persecute a   
child who says petulantly that he will  
not believe the law of gravity4 ,he     
merely smiles and goes on his way4 ,the 
law of gravity can look after itself6   
,persecution is as often as not an      

attempt to reassure oneself about one's 
own beliefs2 it is not a sign of an     
untroubled faith4  ,we must not allow   
ourselves to be shaken by any attempt to
 dictate to us what we should believe4  
,we need not always protest against it1 
unless we feel it a duty to do so2 we   
may simply regard another's certainties 
as things which are not and cannot be   
proved4 ,argument on such subjects is   
merely a waste of time2 but at the same 
time we ought to recognise the vitality 
which lies behind such tenacious        
beliefs1 and be glad that it is there1  
even if we think it to be mistaken4     
,and this brings me back to my first    
point1 which is that it is good for us  
to try to realise the hidden life of the
 world1 and to rejoice in it even though
 it has no truth for us4 ,we must never 
disbelieve in life1 even though in      
sickness and sorrow and age it may seem 
to ebb from us2 and we must try at all  
costs to recognise it1 to sympathise    
with it1 to put ourselves in touch with 

it1 even though it takes forms          
unintelligible and even repugnant to    
ourselves4  ,let me try to translate    
this into very practical matters4 ,we   
many of us find ourselves in a fixed    
relation to a certain circle of people4 
,we cannot break with them or abandon   
them4 ,perhaps our livelihood depends   
upon them1 or theirs upon us4 ,yet we   
may find them harsh1 unsympathetic1     
unkind1 objectionable4 ,what are we to  
do8 ,many people let the whole tangle   
go1 and just creep along1 doing what    
they do not like1 feeling unappreciated 
and misunderstood1 just hoping to avoid 
active collisions and unpleasant scenes4
 ,that is a very spiritless business6   
,what we ought to do is to find points  
of contact1 even at the cost of some    
repression of our own views and aims4   
,and we ought too to nourish a fine life
 of our own1 to look into the lives of  
other people1 which can be done perhaps 
best in large books1 fine biographies1  
great works of imagination and fiction4 

,we must not drowse and brood in our own
 sombre corner1 when life is flowing    
free and full outside1 as in some       
flashing river4 ,however little chance  
we may seem to have of doing anything1  
we can at least determine to be         
something2 not to let our life be       
filled1 like some base vessel1 with the 
offscourings and rinsings of other      
spirits1 but to remember that the water 
of life is given freely to all who come4
 ,that is the worst of our dull view of 
the great ,gospel of ,christ4 ,we       
think--,i do not say this profanely but 
seriously--of that water of life as a   
series of propositions like the         
,athanasian ,creed6  ,christ meant      
something very different by the water of
 life4 ,he meant that the soul that was 
athirst could receive a draught of a    
spring of cool refreshment and living   
joy4 ,he did not mean a set of          
doctrines2 doctrines are to life what   
parchments and title-deeds are to an    
estate with woods and waters1 fields and

 gardens1 houses and cottages1 and live 
people moving to and fro4 ,it is of no  
use to possess the title-deed if one    
does not visit one's estate4 ,doctrines 
are an attempt to state1 in bare and    
precise language1 ideas and thoughts    
dear and fresh to the heart4 ,it is in  
qualities1 hopes1 and affections that we
 live2 and if our eyes are opened1 we   
can see1 as my friend dreamed he saw1   
the surface of the hard rock full of    
moving points1 and shimmering with      
threads of swift life1 when the sun has 
fallen from the height1 and the wind    
comes cool across the moor from the open
 gates of the evening4     ,,xvii       
,,accessibility   ,i was greatly        
interested the other day by seeing a    
photograph1 in his old age1 of ,henry   
,phillpotts1 the redoubtable ,bishop of 
,exeter1 who lost more money in lawsuits
 with clergymen than any ,bishop1 ,i    
suppose1 who ever lived4 ,he sate1 the  
old man1 in his clumsily fitting        
gaiters1 bowed or crouched in an        

arm-chair1 reading a letter4 ,his face  
was turned to the spectator2 with his   
stiff1 upstanding hair1 his out-thrust  
lip1 his corrugated brow1 and the deep  
pouched lines beneath his eyes1 he      
looked like a terrible old lion1 who    
could no longer spring1 but who had not 
forgotten how to roar4 ,his face was    
full of displeasure and anger4 ,i       
remembered that a clergyman once told me
 how he had been sitting next the       
,bishop at a dinner of parsons1 and a   
young curate1 sitting on the other side 
of the ,bishop1 affronted him by        
believing him to be deaf1 and by        
speaking very loudly and distinctly to  
him4 ,the ,bishop at last turned to him1
 with a furious visage1 and said1 ,i    
would have you to understand1 sir1 that 
,i am not deaf6 ,this disconcerted the  
young man so much that he could neither 
speak nor eat4 ,the old ,bishop turned  
to my friend1 and said1 in a heavy tone1
 ,i'm not fit for society6 ,indeed he   
was not1 if he could unchain so fierce a

 beast on such slight provocation4  ,and
 there are many other stories of the    
bitter things he said1 and how his      
displeasure could brood like a cloud    
over a whole company4 ,he was a gallant 
old figure1 it is true1 very energetic1 
very able1 determined to do what he     
thought right1 and infinitely           
courageous4 ,i mused over the portrait1 
thought how lifelike and picturesque it 
was1 and how utterly unlike one's idea  
of an aged ,christian or a chief        
shepherd4 ,in his beautiful villa by the
 sea1 with its hanging woods and        
gardens1 ruling with diligence1 he      
seemed to me more like a stoical ,roman 
,emperor1 or a tempestuous ,sadducee1   
the spirit of the world incarnate4 ,one 
wondered what it could have been that   
had drawn him to ,christ1 or what part  
he would have taken if he had been on   
the ,sanhedrin that judged ,him6  ,it   
seems to me that one of the first       
characteristics which one ought to do   
one's best to cast out of one's life is 

that of formidableness4 ,yet to tell a  
man that he is formidable is not an     
accusation that is often resented4 ,he  
may indulgently deprecate it1 but it    
seems to most people a sort of          
testimonial to their force and weight   
and influence1 a penalty that they have 
to pay for being effective1 a matter of 
prestige and honour4 ,of course1 an old1
 famous1 dignified man who has played a 
great part on the stage of life must    
necessarily be approached by the young  
with a certain awe4 ,but there is no    
charm in the world more beautiful than  
the charm which can permeate dignity1   
give confidence1 awake affection1       
dissipate dread4 ,but if a man of that  
sort indulges his moods1 says what he   
thinks bluntly and fiercely1 has no     
mercy on feebleness or ignorance1 he can
 be a very dreadful personage indeed6   
,accessibility is one of the first of   
,christian virtues2 but it is not always
 easy to practise1 because a man of     
force and ability1 who is modest and    

shy1 forgets as life goes on how much   
more his influence is felt4 ,he himself 
does not feel at all different from what
 he was when he was young1 when he was  
snubbed and silenced and set down in    
argument4 ,perhaps he feels that the    
world is a kinder and an easier place1  
as he grows into deference and esteem1  
but it is the surest sign of a noble and
 beautiful character if the greater he  
becomes the more simple and tender he   
also becomes4  ,i was greatly interested
 the other day in attending a meeting at
 which1 among other speakers1 two       
well-known men spoke4 ,the first was a  
man of great renown and prestige1 and he
 made a very beautiful1 lofty1 and      
tender discourse2 but1 from some shyness
 or gravity of nature1 he never smiled  
nor looked at his audience2 and thus1   
fine though his speech was1 he never got
 into touch with us at all4 ,the second 
speech was far more obvious and         
commonplace1 but the speaker1 on        
beginning1 cast a friendly look round   

and smiled on the audience2 and he did  
the same all the time1 so that one had  
at once a friendly sense of contact and 
geniality1 and ,i felt that every word  
was addressed to me personally4 ,that is
 what it is to be accessible6  ,one of  
the best ways in which we can keep the  
spirit of poetry--by which ,i mean the  
higher1 sweeter1 purer influences of    
thought--alive in one's heart1 is by    
accessibility--by determining to speak  
freely of what one admires and loves1   
what moves and touches one1 what keeps  
one's mind upon the inner and finer     
life4 ,it is not always possible or     
indeed convenient for younger people to 
do this1 for reasons which are not      
wholly bad reasons4 ,young people ought 
not to be too eager to take the lead in 
talk1 nor ought they to be too openly   
impatient of the more sedate and prosaic
 discourse of their elders2 and then1   
too1 there is a time for all things2 one
 cannot keep the mind always on the     
strain2 and the best and most beautiful 

things are apt to come in glimpses and  
hints1 and are not always arrived at by 
discussion and argument4  ,there is a   
story of a great artist full of sympathy
 and kindness1 to whom in a single day  
three several people came to confide sad
 troubles and trials4 ,the artist told  
the story to his wife in the evening4   
,he said that he was afraid that the    
third of the visitors thought him       
strangely indifferent and even unkind4  
,the fact was1 he said1 that my capacity
 for sympathy was really exhausted4 ,i  
had suffered so much from the first two 
recitals that ,i could not be sorry any 
more4 ,i said ,i was sorry1 and ,i was  
sorry far down in my mind1 but ,i could 
not feel sorry4 ,i had given all the    
sympathy ,i had1 and it was no use going
 again to the well when there was no    
more water4 ,this shows that one cannot 
command emotion1 and that one must not  
force even thoughts of beauty upon      
others4 ,we must bide our time1 we must 
adapt ourselves1 and we must not be     

instant in season and out of season4    
,yet neither must we be wholly at the   
mercy of moods4 ,in religion1 the theory
 of liturgical worship is an attempt to 
realise that we ought to practise       
religious emotion with regularity4 ,we  
do not always feel we are miserable     
sinners when we say so1 and we sometimes
 feel that we are when we do not say it2
 but it is better to confess what we    
know to be true1 even if at that moment 
we do not feel it to be true4  ,we ought
 not then always1 out of modesty1 to    
abstain from talking about the things   
for which we care4 ,a foolish shyness   
will sometimes keep two sympathetic     
people from ever talking freely together
 of their real hopes and interests4 ,we 
are terribly afraid in ,england of what 
we call priggishness4 ,it is on the     
whole a wholesome tendency1 but it is   
the result of a lack of flexibility of  
mind4 ,what we ought to be afraid of is 
not seriousness and earnestness1 but of 
solemnity and pomposity4 ,we ought to be

 ready to vary our mood swiftly1 and    
even to see the humorous side of sacred 
and beautiful things4 ,the              
oppressiveness of people who hold a     
great many things sacred1 and cannot    
bear that they should be jested about1  
is very great4 ,there is nothing that   
takes all naturalness out of intercourse
 more quickly than the habit which some 
people have of begging that a subject   
may not be pursued because it is one on 
which ,i feel very deeply4 ,that is the 
essence of priggishness1 to feel that   
our reasons are better1 our motives     
purer1 than the reasons of other people1
 and that we have the privilege of      
setting a standard4 ,conscious          
superiority is the note of the prig2 and
 we have the right to dread it4  ,but   
the ,gospel again is full of precepts in
 favour of frankness1 outspokenness1    
letting light shine out1 speaking       
sincerely2 only it must not be done     
provokingly1 condescendingly1 solemnly4 
,it is well for every one to have a     

friend or friends with whom he can talk 
quite unaffectedly about what he cares  
for and values2 and he ought to be able 
to say to such a friend1 ,i cannot talk 
about these things now2 ,i am in a      
dusty1 prosaic1 grubby mood1 and ,i want
 to make mud-pies2 the point is to be   
natural1 and yet to keep a watch upon   
nature2 not to force her into cramped   
postures1 and yet not to indulge her in 
rude1 careless1 and vulgar postures4 ,it
 is a bad sign in friendship1 if        
intimacy seems to a man to give him the 
right to be rude1 coarse1 boisterous1   
censorious1 if he will4 ,he may         
sometimes be betrayed into each and all 
of these things1 and be glad of a       
safety-valve for his ill-humours1       
knowing that he will not be permanently 
misunderstood by a sympathetic friend4  
,but there must be a discipline in all  
these things1 and nature must often give
 way and be broken in2 frankness must   
not degenerate into boorishness1 and    
liberty must not be the power of        

interfering with the liberty of the     
friend4 ,one must force oneself to be   
courteous1 interested1 sweet-tempered1  
when one feels just the contrary2 one   
must keep in sight the principle1 and if
 violence must be done1 it must not be  
done to the better nature4 ,least of all
 must one deliberately take up the rle  
of exercising influence4 ,that is a sad 
snare to many fine natures4 ,one sees a 
weak1 attractive character1 and it seems
 so tempting to train it up a stick1 to 
fortify it1 to mould it4 ,if one is a   
professed teacher1 one has to try this  
sometimes2 but even then1 the temptation
 to drive rather than lead must be      
strenuously resisted4  ,i have always a 
very dark suspicion of people who talk  
of spheres of influence1 and who enjoy  
consciously affecting other lives4 ,if  
this is done professionally1 as a joyful
 sort of exercise1 it is deadly4 ,the   
only excuse for it is that one really   
cares for people and longs to be of use2
 one cannot pump one's own tastes and   

character into others4 ,the only hope is
 that they should develop their own     
qualities4 ,other people ought not to be
 'problems' to us2 they may be          
mysteries1 but that is quite another    
thing4 ,to love people1 if one can1 is  
the only way4 ,to find out what is      
lovable in them and not to try to       
discover what is malleable in them is   
the secret4 ,a wise and witty lady1 who 
knows that she is tempted to try to     
direct other lives1 told me that one of 
her friends once remonstrated with her  
by saying that she ought to leave       
something for ,god to do6  ,i know a    
very terrible and well-meaning person1  
who once spoke severely to me for       
treating a matter with levity4 ,i lost  
my temper1 and said1 ,you may make me   
ashamed of it1 if you can1 but you shall
 not bully me into treating a matter    
seriously which ,i think is wholly      
absurd4 ,he said1 ,you do not enough    
consider the grave issues which may be  
involved4 ,i replied that to be for ever

 considering graver issues seemed to me 
to make life stuffy and unwholesome4 ,my
 censor sighed and shook his head4  ,we 
cannot coerce any one into anything     
good4 ,we may salve our own conscience  
by trying to do so1 we may even level an
 immediate difficulty2 but a free and   
generous desire to be different is the  
only hope of vital change4 ,the         
detestable ,puritan fibre that exists in
 many of us1 which is the most utterly  
unchristian thing ,i know1 tempts us to 
feel that no discipline is worth        
anything unless it is dark and gloomy2  
but that is the discipline of the       
law-court and the prison1 and has never 
remedied anything since the world began4
 ,wickedness is nearly always1 perhaps  
always1 a moral invalidism1 and we shall
 see some day that to punish men for    
crime by being cruel to them is like    
condemning a man to the treadmill for   
having typhoid fever4 ,i can only say   
that the more ,i have known of human    
beings1 and the older ,i grow1 the more 

lovable1 gentle1 sweet-tempered ,i have 
found them to be4  ,the life of ,carlyle
 seems to me to be one of the most      
terrible and convincing documents in the
 world in proof of what ,i have been    
saying4 ,the old man was so bent on     
battering and bumping people into       
righteousness1 so in love with          
spluttering and vituperating and        
thundering all over the place1 that he  
missed the truest and sweetest ministry 
of love4 ,he broke his wife's heart1 and
 it is idle to pretend he did not4 ,mrs4
 ,carlyle was a sharp-edged woman too1  
and hurt her own life by her bitter     
trenchancy4 ,but there was enough true  
love and loyalty and chivalry in the    
pair to furnish out a hundred marriages4
 ,yet one sees ,carlyle stamping and    
cursing through life1 and never seeing  
what lay close to his hand4 ,i admire   
his life not because it was a triumph1  
but because it was such a colossal      
failure1 and so finely atoned for by the
 noble and great-minded repentance of a 

man who recognised at last that it was  
of no use to begin by trying to be ruler
 over ten cities1 unless he was first   
faithful in a few things4     ,,xviii   
,,sympathy   ,but there is one thing    
which we must constantly bear in mind1  
and which all enthusiastic people must  
particularly recollect1 namely1 that our
 delight and interest in life must be   
large1 tolerant1 and sympathetic1 and   
that we must not only admit but welcome 
an immense variety of interest4 ,we must
 above all things be just1 and we must  
be ready to be both interested and      
amused by people whom we do not like4   
,the point is that minds should be fresh
 and clear1 rather than stagnant and    
lustreless4 ,enthusiastic people1 who   
feel very strongly and eagerly the      
beauty of one particular kind of        
delight1 are sadly apt to wish to impose
 their own preferences upon other minds1
 and not to believe in the worth of     
others' preferences4 ,thus the men who  
feel very ardently the beauty of the    

,greek ,classics are apt to insist that 
all boys shall be brought up upon them2 
and the same thing happens in other     
matters4 ,we must not make a moral law  
out of our own tastes and preferences1  
and we must be content that others      
should feel the appeal of other sorts of
 beauty2 that was the mistake which     
dogged the radiant path of ,ruskin from 
first to last1 that he could not bear   
that other people should have their own 
preferences1 but considered that any    
dissidence from his own standards was of
 the nature of sin4 ,if we insist on all
 agreeing with ourselves it is sterile  
enough2 but if we begin to call other   
people hard names1 and suspecting or    
vituperating their motives for          
disagreeing with us1 we sin both against
 ,love and ,light4 ,it was that spirit  
which called forth from ,christ the     
sternest denunciation which ever fell   
from his lips4 ,the ,pharisees tried to 
discredit ,his work by representing ,him
 as in league with the powers of evil2  

and this sin1 which is the imputing of  
evil motives to actions and beliefs that
 appear to be good1 because our own     
beliefs are too narrow to include them1 
is the sin which ,christ said could find
 no forgiveness4  ,i had a personal     
instance of this the other day which    
illustrates so clearly what ,i mean that
 ,i will quote it4 ,i wrote a book      
called ,the ,child of the ,dawn1 the    
point of which was to represent1 in an  
allegory1 my sincere belief that the    
after-life of man must be a life of     
effort1 and experience1 and growth4 ,a  
lady wrote me a very discourteous letter
 to say that she believed the after-life
 to be one of ,rest1 and that she held  
what she believed to be my view to be   
unchristian and untrue4 ,the notion that
 ardent1 loving1 eager spirits should be
 required to spend eternity in a sort of
 lazy contentment1 forbidden to stir a  
finger for love and truth and right1 is 
surely an insupportable one6 ,what would
 be the joy of heaven to a soul full of 

energy and love1 condemned to such      
luxurious apathy1 forced to drowse      
through the ages in epicurean ease8 ,if 
heaven has any meaning at all1 it must  
satisfy our best and most active        
aspirations2 and a paradise of utter and
 eternal indolence would be purgatory or
 hell to all noble natures4 ,but this   
poor creature1 tired no doubt by life   
and its anxieties1 overcome by          
dreariness and sorrow1 was not only     
desirous of solitary and profound       
repose1 but determined to impose her own
 theory upon all the world as well4 ,i  
blame no one for desiring rest2 but to  
wish1 as she made no secret that she    
wished1 to crush and confound one who   
thought and hoped otherwise1 does seem  
to me a very mean and wretched point of 
view4 ,that1 alas1 is what many people  
mean when they say that they believe a  
thing1 namely that they would be        
personally annoyed if it turned out to  
be different from what they hoped4  ,i  
am sure that we ought rather to welcome 

with all our might any evidence of      
strength and energy and joy1 even if    
they seem to spring from principles     
entirely opposite to our own4 ,the more 
we know of men and women1 the more we   
ought to perceive that half the trouble 
in the world comes from our calling the 
same principles by different names4 ,we 
are not called upon to give up our own  
principles1 but we must beware of trying
 to meddle with the principles of other 
people4  ,and therefore we must never be
 disturbed and still less annoyed by    
other people finding fault with our     
tastes and principles1 calling them     
fantastic and sentimental1 weak and     
affected1 so long as they do not seek to
 impose their own beliefs upon us4 ,that
 they should do so is of course a       
mistake2 but we must recognise that it  
comes either from the stupidity which is
 the result of a lack of sympathy1 or   
else from the nobler error of holding an
 opinion strongly and earnestly4 ,we    
must never be betrayed into making the  

same mistake2 we may try to persuade1   
and it is better done by example than by
 argument1 but we must never allow      
ourselves to scoff and deride1 and still
 less to abuse and vilify4 ,we must     
rather do our best to understand the    
other point of view1 and to acquiesce in
 the possibility of its being held1 even
 if we cannot understand it4 ,we must   
take for granted that every one whose   
life shows evidence of energy1          
unselfishness1 joyfulness1 ardour1      
peacefulness1 is truly inspired by the  
spirit of good4 ,we must believe that   
they have a vision of beauty and        
delight1 born of the spirit4 ,we must   
rejoice if they are making plain to     
other minds any interpretation of life1 
any enrichment of motive1 any protest   
against things coarse and low and mean4 
,we may wish--and we may try to persuade
 them--that their hopes and aims were   
wider1 more bountiful1 and more         
inclusive1 but if we seek to exclude    
those hopes and aims1 however           

inconsistent they may be with our own1  
that moment the shadow involves our own 
hopes1 because our desire must be that  
the world may somehow become happier1   
fuller1 more joyful1 even if it is not  
on the lines which we ourselves approve4
  ,i know so many good people who are   
anxious to increase happiness1 but only 
on their own conditions2 they feel that 
they estimate exactly what the quantity 
and quality of joy ought to be1 and they
 treat the joy which they do not        
themselves feel as an offence against   
truth4 ,it is from these beliefs1 ,i    
have often thought1 that much of the    
unhappiness of family circles arises1   
the elders not realising how the world  
moves on1 how new ideas come to the     
front1 how the old hopes fade or are    
transmuted4 ,they see their children    
liking different thoughts1 different    
occupations1 new books1 new pleasures2  
and instead of trying to enter into     
these things1 to believe in their       
innocence and their naturalness1 they   

try to crush and thwart them1 with the  
result that the boys and girls just hide
 their feelings and desires1 and if they
 are not shamed out of them1 which      
sometimes happens1 they hold them       
secretly and half sullenly1 and plan how
 to escape as soon as they can from the 
tender and anxious constraint into a    
real world of their own4 ,and the       
saddest part of all is that the younger 
generation learn no experience thus2 but
 when they form a circle of their own   
and the same expansion happens1 they do 
as their parents did1 saying to         
themselves1 ,my parents lost my         
confidence by insisting on what was not 
really important2 but my objections are 
reasonable and justifiable1 and my      
children must trust me to know what is  
right4  ,we must realise then that      
elasticity and sympathy are the first of
 duties1 and that if we embark upon the 
crusade of joy1 we must do it expecting 
to find many kinds of joy at work in the
 world1 and some which we cannot        

understand4 ,we may of course mistrust  
destructive joy1 the joy of selfish     
pleasure1 rough combativeness1 foolish  
wastefulness1 ugly riot--all the joys   
that are evidently dogged by sorrow and 
pain2 but if we see any joy that leads  
to self-restraint and energy and        
usefulness and activity1 we must        
recognise it as divine4  ,we may have   
then our private fancies1 our happy     
pursuits1 our sweet delights2 we may    
practise them1 sure that the best proof 
of their energy is that they obviously  
and plainly increase and multiply our   
own happiness4 ,but if we direct others 
at all1 it must be as a signpost1       
pointing to a parting of roads and      
making the choice clear1 and not as a   
policeman enforcing the majesty of our  
self-invented laws4  ,everything that   
helps us1 invigorates us1 comforts us1  
sustains us1 gives us life1 is right for
 us2 of that we need never be in any    
doubt1 provided always that our delight 
is not won at the expense of others2 and

 we must allow and encourage exactly the
 same liberty in others to choose their 
own rest1 their own pleasure1 their own 
refreshment4 ,what would one think of a 
host1 whose one object was to make his  
guests eat and drink and do exactly what
 he himself enjoyed8 ,and yet that is   
precisely what many of the most         
conscientious people are doing all day  
long1 in other regions of the soul and  
mind4  ,the one thing which we have to  
fear1 in all this1 is of lapsing into   
indolence and solitary enjoyment1       
guarding and hoarding our own happiness4
 ,we must measure the effectiveness of  
our enjoyment by one thing and one thing
 alone--our increase of affection and   
sympathy1 our interest in other minds   
and lives4 ,if we only end by desiring  
to be apart from it all1 to gnaw the    
meat we have torn from life in a secret 
cave of our devising1 to gain serenity  
by indifference1 then we must put our   
desires aside2 but if it sends us into  
the world with hope and energy and      

interest and above all affection1 then  
we need have no anxiety2 we may enter   
like the pilgrims into comfortable      
houses of refreshment1 where we can look
 with interest at pictures and spiders  
and poultry and all the pleasant wonders
 of the place2 we may halt in wayside   
arbours to taste cordials and           
confections1 and enjoy from the breezy  
hill-top the pleasant vale of ,beulah1  
with the celestial mountains rising blue
 and still upon the far horizon4        
,,xix  ,,science   ,i read the other day
 a very downright book1 with a kind of  
dry insolence about it1 by a man who was
 concerned with stating what he called  
the mechanistic theory of the universe4 
,the worlds1 it seemed1 were like a     
sandy desert1 with a wind that whirled  
the sands about2 and indeed ,i seemed1  
as ,i looked out on the world through   
the writer's eyes1 to see nothing but   
wind and sand6 ,one of his points was   
that every thought that passed through  
the mind was preceded by a change in the

 particles of the brain2 so that        
philosophy1 and religion1 and life      
itself were nothing but a shifting of   
the sand by the impalpable wind--matter 
and motion1 that was all6 ,again and    
again he said1 in his dry way1 that no  
theory was of any use that was not      
supported by facts2 and that though     
there was left a little corner of       
thought1 which was still unexplained1 we
 should soon have some more facts1 and  
the last mystery would be hunted down4  
,but it seemed to me1 as ,i read it1    
that the thoughts of man were just as   
much facts as any other facts1 and that 
when a man had a vision of beauty1 or   
when a hope came to him in a bitter     
sorrow1 it was just as real a thing as  
the little particle of the brain which  
stirred and crept nearer to another     
particle4 ,i do not say that all        
theories of religion and philosophy are 
necessarily true1 but they are real     
enough2 they have existed1 they exist1  
they cannot die4 ,of course1 in making  

out a theory1 we must not neglect one   
set of facts and depend wholly on       
another set of facts2 but ,i believe    
that the intense and pathetic desire of 
humanity to know why they are here1 why 
they feel as they do1 why they suffer   
and rejoice1 what awaits them1 are facts
 just as significant as the blood that  
drips from the wound1 or the leaf that  
unfolds in the sun4 ,the comforting and 
uplifting conclusion which the writer   
came to was that we were just a set of  
animated puppets1 spun out of the drift 
of sand and dew by the thing that he    
called force4 ,but if that is so1 why   
are we not all perfectly complacent and 
contented1 why do we love and grieve and
 wish to be different8 ,i do still      
believe that there is a spirit that     
mingles with our hopes and dreams1      
something personal1 beautiful1 fatherly1
 pure1 something which is unwillingly   
tied to earth and would be free if it   
could4 ,the sense that we are ourselves 
wholly separate and distinct1 with      

experience behind us and experience     
before us1 seems to me a fact beside    
which all other facts pale into         
insignificance4 ,and next in strength to
 that seems the fact that we can        
recognise1 and draw near to1 and be     
amazingly desirous of1 as well as no    
less strangely hostile to1 other similar
 selves2 that our thought can mingle    
with theirs1 pass into theirs1 as theirs
 into ours1 forging a bond which no     
accident of matter can dissolve4  ,does 
it really satisfy the lover1 when he    
knows that his love is answered1 to     
realise that it is all the result of    
some preceding molecular action of the  
brain8 ,that does not seem to me so much
 a truculent statement as a foolish     
statement1 shirking1 like a glib and    
silly child1 the most significant of    
data4 ,and ,i think we shall do well to 
say to our scientist1 as courteously as 
,sir ,lancelot said to the officious    
knight1 who proffered unnecessary       
service1 that we have no need for him at

 this time4  ,now1 ,i am not saying1 in 
all this1 that the investigation of     
science is wrong or futile4 ,it is      
exactly the reverse2 the message of ,god
 is hidden in all the minutest material 
things that lie about us2 and it is a   
very natural and even noble work to     
explore it2 but it is wrong if it leads 
us to draw any conclusions at present   
beyond what we can reasonably and justly
 draw4 ,it is the inference that what   
explains the visible scheme of things   
can also explain the invisible4 ,that is
 wrong6  ,let me here quote a noble     
sentence1 which has often given me      
much-needed help1 and served to remind  
me that thought is after all as real a  
thing as matter1 when ,i have been      
tempted to feel otherwise4 ,it was      
written by a very wise and tender       
philosopher1 ,william ,james1 who was   
never betrayed by his own severe        
standard of truth and reality into      
despising the common dreams and         
aspirations of simpler men4 ,he wrote3  

,i find it preposterous to suppose that 
if there be a      feeling of unseen    
reality1 shared by numbers of the best  
men in their best moments1 responded to 
by other men in      their deep moments1
 good to live by1 strength-giving--,i   
find      it preposterous1 ,i say1 to   
suppose that the goodness of that       
feeling for living purposes should be   
held to carry no      objective         
significance1 and especially            
preposterous if it      combines        
harmoniously with an otherwise grounded 
philosophy      of objective truth4     
,that is a very large and tolerant      
utterance1 both in its suspension of    
impatient certainties and in its        
beautiful sympathy with all ardent      
visions that cannot clearly and         
convincingly find logical utterance4    
,what ,i am trying to say in this little
 book is not addressed to professional  
philosophers or men of science1 who are 
concerned with intellectual             
investigation1 but to those who have to 

live life as it is1 as the vast majority
 of men must always be4 ,what ,i rather 
beg of them is not to be alarmed and    
bewildered by the statements either of  
scientific or religious dogmatists4 ,no 
doubt we should like to know everything1
 to have all our perplexities resolved2 
but we have reached that point neither  
in religion nor in philosophy1 nor even 
in science4 ,we must be content not to  
know4 ,but because we do not know1 we   
need not therefore refuse to feel2 there
 is no excuse for us to thrust the whole
 tangle away and out of sight1 and just 
to do as far as possible what we like4  
,we may admire and hope and love1 and it
 is our business to do all three4 ,the  
thing that seems to me--and ,i am here  
only stating a personal view--both      
possible and desirable1 is to live as   
far as we can by the law of beauty1 not 
to submit to anything by which our soul 
is shamed and insulted1 not to be drawn 
into strife1 not to fall into miserable 
fault-finding1 not to allow ourselves to

 be fretted and fussed and agitated by  
the cares of life2 but to say clearly to
 ourselves1 that is a petty1 base1 mean 
thought1 and ,i will not entertain it2  
this is a generous and kind and gracious
 thought1 and ,i will welcome it and    
obey it4  ,one of the clearly           
discernible laws of life is that we can 
both check and contract habits2 and when
 we begin our day1 we can begin it if we
 will by prayer and aspiration and      
resolution1 as much as we can begin it  
with bath and toilet4 ,we can say1 ,i   
will live resolutely to-day in joy and  
good-humour and energy and kindliness4  
,those powers and possibilities are all 
there2 and even if we are overshadowed  
by disappointment and anxiety and pain1 
we can say to ourselves that we will    
behave as if it were not so2 because    
there is undoubtedly a very real and    
noble pleasure in putting off shadows   
and troubles1 and not letting them fall 
in showers on those about us4 ,we need  
not be stoical or affectedly bright2 we 

often cannot give those who love us     
greater joy than to tell them of our    
troubles and let them comfort us4 ,and  
we can be practical too in our outlook1 
because much of the grittiest irritation
 of life is caused by indulging         
indolence when we ought not1 and being  
hurried when we might be leisurely4 ,it 
is astonishing how a little planning    
will help us in all this1 and how soon a
 habit is set up4 ,we do not1 it is     
true1 know the limits of our power of   
choice4 ,but the illusion1 if it be an  
illusion1 that we have a power of       
choice1 is an infinitely more real fact 
to most of us than the molecular motion 
of the brain particles4  ,and then too  
there is another fact1 which is becoming
 more and more clear1 namely1 what is   
called the power of suggestion4 ,that if
 we can put a thought into our mind1 not
 into our reason1 but into our inner    
mind of instinct and force1 whether it  
be a base thought or a noble thought1 it
 seems to soak unconsciously into the   

very stuff of the mind1 and keep        
reproducing itself even when we seem to 
have forgotten all about it4 ,and this  
is1 ,i believe1 one of the uses of      
prayer1 that we put a thought into the  
mind1 which can abide with us1 secretly 
it may be1 all the day2 and that thus it
 is not a mere pious habit or tradition 
to have a quiet period at the beginning 
of the day1 in which we can nurture some
 joyful and generous hope1 but as real a
 source of strength to the spirit as the
 morning meal is to the body4 ,i have   
myself found that it is well1 if one    
can1 to read a fragment of some fine1   
generous1 beautiful1 or noble-minded    
book at such an hour4  ,there is in many
 people who work hard with their brains 
a curious and unreal mood of sadness    
which hangs about the waking hour1 which
 ,i have thought to be a sort of hunger 
of the mind1 craving to be fed2 and this
 is accompanied1 at least in me1 by a   
very swift1 clear1 and hopeful          
apprehension1 so that a beautiful       

thought comes to me as a draught of     
water to a thirsty man4 ,so ,i make     
haste1 as often as may be1 just to drop 
such a thought at those times into the  
mind2 it falls to the depths1 as one may
 see a bright coin go gleaming and      
shifting down to the depths of a pool2  
or to use a homelier similitude1 like   
sugar that drops to the bottom of a cup1
 sweetening the draught4  ,these are    
little homely things2 but it is through 
simple use and not through large theory 
that one can best practise joy4     ,,xx
  ,,work   ,i came out of the low-arched
 door with a sense of relief and passed 
into the sunshine2 the meeting had      
broken up1 and we went our ways4 ,we had
 sate there an hour or two in the old   
panelled room1 a dozen full-blooded     
friendly men discussing a small matter  
with wonderful ingenuity and zest2 and  
,i had spoken neither least nor most    
mildly1 and had found it all pleasant   
enough4 ,then ,i mounted my bicycle and 
rode out into the fragrant country      

alone1 with all its nearer green and    
further blue2 there in that little belt 
of space1 between the thin air above and
 the dense-dark earth beneath1 was the  
pageant of conscious life enacting      
itself so visibly and eagerly4 ,in the  
sunlit sky the winds raced gaily enough1
 with the void silence of moveless space
 above it2 below my feet what depths of 
cold stone1 with the secret springs2    
below that perhaps a core of molten heat
 and imprisoned fire6  ,what was it all 
about8 ,what were we all doing there8   
,what was the significance of the little
 business that had been engaging our    
minds and tongues8 ,what part did it    
play in the mighty universe8  ,the      
thorn-tree thick with bloom1 pouring out
 its homely spicy smell--it was doing   
too1 beautifully enough1 what we had    
been doing clumsily4 ,it was living1    
intent on its own conscious life1 the   
sap hurrying1 the scent flowing1 the bud
 waxing4 ,the yellow-hammer poising and 
darting along the hedge1 the sparrow    

twittering round the rick1 the cock     
picking and crowing1 were all intent on 
life1 proclaiming that they were alive  
and busy4 ,something vivid1 alert1      
impassioned was going forward           
everywhere1 something being effected1   
something uttered--and yet the cause how
 utterly hidden from me and from every  
living thing6  ,the memory of old poetry
 began to flicker in my mind like summer
 lightning4 ,in the orchard1 crammed    
with bloom1 two unseen children were    
calling to each other2 a sunburned1     
careless1 graceful boy1 whose rough     
clothes could not conceal his shapely   
limbs and easy movements1 came driving  
some cows along the lane4 ,he asked me  
the time in ,dorian speech4 ,the        
shepherds piping together on the        
,sicilian headland could not have made a
 fairer picture2 and yet the boy and ,i 
could hardly have had a thought in      
common6  ,all the poets that ever sang  
in the pleasant springtime can hardly   
have felt the joyful onrush of the      

season more sweetly than ,i felt it that
 day2 and yet no philosopher or priest  
could have given me a hint of what the  
mystery was1 why so ceaselessly renewed2
 but it was clear to me at least that   
the mind behind it was joyful enough1   
and wished me to share its joy4  ,and   
then an hour later ,i was doing for no  
reason but that it was my business the  
dullest of tasks--no less than revising 
a whole sheaf of the driest of          
examination papers4 ,elaborate questions
 to elicit knowledge of facts arid and  
meaningless1 which it was worth no human
 being's while to know1 unless he could 
fill out the bare outlines with some of 
the stuff of life4 ,hundreds of boys1 ,i
 dare say1 in crowded schoolrooms all   
over the country were having those facts
 drummed into them1 with no aim in sight
 but the answering of the questions     
which ,i was manipulating4 ,that was a  
bewildering business1 that we should    
insist on that sort of drilling becoming
 a part of life4 ,was that a relation it

 was well to establish8 ,as the fine    
old1 shrewd1 indolent ,dr4 ,johnson     
said1 he for his part1 while he lived1  
never again desired even to hear of the 
,punic ,war6 ,and again he said1 ,you   
teach your daughters the diameters of   
the planets1 and wonder1 when you have  
done1 why they do not desire your       
company4  ,cannot we somehow learn to   
simplify life8 ,must we continue to     
think that we can inspire children in   
rows8 ,is it not possible for us to be a
 little less important and pompous and  
elaborate about it all1 to aim at more  
direct relations1 to say more what we   
feel1 to do more what nature bids us do8
  ,the heart sickens at the thought of  
how we keep to the grim highways of     
life1 and leave the pleasant spaces of  
wood and field unvisited6 ,and all      
because we want more than we need1 and  
because we cannot be content unless we  
can be envied and admired4  ,the cure   
for all this1 it seems to me1 is a      
resolute avoidance of complications and 

intricacies1 a determination to live    
life more on our own terms1 and to open 
our eyes to the simpler pleasures which 
lie waiting in our way on every side4   
,i do not believe in the elaborate      
organisation of life2 and yet ,i think  
it is possible to live in the midst of  
it1 and yet not to be involved in it4 ,i
 do not believe in fierce rebellion1 but
 ,i do believe in quiet transformation2 
and here comes in the faith that ,i have
 in ,joyous ,gard4 ,i believe that day  
by day we should clear a space to live  
with minds that have felt1 and hoped1   
and enjoyed4 ,that is the first duty of 
all2 and then that we should live in    
touch with the natural beauty of the    
earth1 and let the sweetness of it enter
 into our minds and hearts2 for then we 
come out renewed1 to find the beauty and
 the fulness of life in the hearts and  
minds of those about us4 ,life is       
complicated1 not because its issues are 
not simple enough1 but because we are   
most of us so afraid of a phantom which 

we create--the criticism of other human 
beings4  ,if one reads the old books of 
chivalry1 there seems an endless waste  
of combat and fighting among men who had
 the same cause at heart1 and who yet   
for the pettiest occasions of dispute   
must need try to inflict death on each  
other1 each doing his best to shatter   
out of the world another human being who
 loved life as well4 ,two doughty       
knights1 ,sir ,lamorak and ,sir         
,meliagraunce1 must needs hew pieces off
 each other's armour1 break each other's
 bones1 spill each other's blood1 to    
prove which of two ladies is the fairer2
 and when it is all over1 nothing       
whatever is proved about the ladies1    
nothing but which of the two knights is 
the stronger6 ,and yet we seem to be    
doing the same thing to this day1 except
 that we now try to wound the heart and 
mind1 to make a fellow-man afraid and   
suspicious1 to take the light out of his
 day and the energy out of his work4    
,for the last few weeks a handful of    

earnest clergymen have been endeavouring
 in a ,church paper1 with floods of     
pious ,billingsgate1 to make me         
ridiculous about a technical question of
 archological interest1 and all because 
my opinion differs from their own6 ,i   
thankfully confess that as ,i get older1
 ,i care not at all for such foolish    
controversy1 and the only qualms ,i have
 are the qualms ,i feel at finding human
 beings so childish and so fretful4     
,well1 it is all very curious1 and not  
without its delight too6 ,what ,i       
earnestly desire is that men and women  
should not thus waste precious time and 
pleasant life1 but go straight to       
reality1 to hope4 ,there are a hundred  
paths that can be trodden2 only let us  
be sure that we are treading our own    
path1 not feebly shifting from track to 
track1 not following too much the       
bidding of others1 but knowing what     
interests us1 what draws us1 what we    
love and desire2 and above all keeping  
in mind that it is our business to      

understand and admire and conciliate    
each other1 whether we do it in a       
panelled room1 with pens and paper on   
the table1 and the committee in full    
cry2 or out on the quiet road1 with one 
whom we trust entirely1 where the       
horizon runs1 field by field and holt by
 holt1 to meet the soft verge of        
encircling sky4     ,,xxi  ,,hope   ,the
 other day ,i took up idly some magazine
 or other1 one of those great           
lemon-coloured1 salmon-hued1 slaty paper
 volumes which lie in rows on the tables
 of my club4 ,i will not stop now to    
enquire why ,english taste demands      
covers which show every mean stain1     
every soiled finger-print2 but these    
volumes are always a reproach to me1    
because they show me1 alas6 how many    
subjects1 how many methods of presenting
 subjects1 are wholly uninteresting and 
unattractive to my trivial mind4 ,this  
time1 however1 my eye fell upon a poem  
full of light and beauty1 and of that   
subtle grace which seems so             

incomprehensible1 so uncreated--a lyric 
by ,mr4 ,alfred ,noyes4 ,it was like a  
spell which banished for an instant the 
weariness born of a long1 hot1 tedious  
committee1 the oppression which always  
falls on me at the sight and sound of   
the cataract of human beings and        
vehicles1 running so fiercely in the    
paved channels of ,london4 ,a beautiful 
poem1 but how immeasurably sad1 an      
invocation to the memory and to the     
spirit of ,robert ,browning1 not        
speaking of him in an elegiac strain as 
of a great poet who had lived his life  
to the full and struck his clear-toned  
harp1 solemnly1 sweetly1 and whimsically
 too1 year after year2 but as of        
something great and noble wholly lost   
and separated from the living world4    
,this was a little part of it3          
,singer of hope for all the world1      
,is it still morning where thou art1    
,or are the clouds that hide thee furled
       ,around a dark and silent heart8 
,the sacred chords thy hand could wake  

,are fallen on utter silence here1      
,and hearts too little even to break    
,have made an idol of despair4          
99       99       99       99       99  
,come back to ,england1 where thy ,may  
,returns1 but not that rapturous light2 
,god is not in ,his heaven to-day1      
,and with thy country nought is right4  
,i think that almost magically          
beautiful6 ,but is it true8 ,i hope not 
and ,i think not4 ,the poet went on to  
say that ,paradox had destroyed the     
sanctity of ,truth1 and that ,science   
had done nothing more than strip the    
skeleton of the flesh and blood that    
vested it1 and crown the anatomy with   
glory4 ,one cannot speak more severely1 
more gloomily1 of an age than to say    
that it is deceived by analysis and     
paradox1 and cares nothing for nobler   
and finer things4 ,it seems to me to be 
a sorrowful view of life that1 to have  
very little faith or prospect about it4 
,it is true indeed that the             
paradox-maker is popular now2 but that  

is because men are interested in        
interpretations of life2 and it is true 
too that we are a little impatient now  
of fancy and imagination1 and want to   
get at facts1 because we feel that fancy
 and imagination1 which are not built on
 facts1 are very tricksy guides to life4
 ,but the view seems to me both         
depressed and morbid which cannot look  
beyond1 and see that the world is       
passing on in its own great unflinching1
 steady manner4 ,it is like the view of 
a child who1 confronted with a pain1 a  
disagreeable incident1 a tedious day of 
drudgery1 wails that it can never be    
happy again4  ,the poem ends with a fine
 apostrophe to ,browning as one who     
stormed through death1 and laid hold of 
,eternity4 ,did he indeed do that8 ,i   
wish ,i felt it6 ,he had1 of course1 an 
unconquerable optimism1 which argued    
promise from failure and perfection from
 incompleteness4 ,but ,i cannot take    
such hopes on the word of another1      
however gallant and noble he may be4 ,i 

do not want hopes which are only within 
the reach of the vivid and high-hearted2
 the crippled1 drudging slave cannot    
rejoice because he sees his warrior-lord
 gay1 heroic1 and strong4 ,i must build 
my creed on my own hopes and            
possibilities1 not on the strength and  
cheerfulness of another4  ,and then my  
eye fell on a sentence opposite1 out of 
an article on our social problems2 and  
this was what ,i read3       444 the    
tears of a hunger-bitten philosophy1    
which is so      appalled by the common 
doom of man--that he must eat his       
bread by the sweat of his brow--that it 
can talk1 write1 and      think of      
nothing else4  ,i think there is more   
promise in that1 rough and even rude as 
the statement is1 because it opens up a 
real hope for something that is coming1 
and is not a mere lamentation over a    
star that is set4  ,a hunger-bitten     
philosophy--is it not rather that there 
is creeping into the world an uneasy    
sense that we must1 if we are to be     

happy1 share our happiness8 ,it is not  
that the philosopher is hungry1 it is   
that he cannot bear to think of all the 
other people who are condemned to       
hunger2 and why it occupies his tongue  
and his pen1 is that it clouds his      
serenity to know that others cannot now 
be serene4 ,all this unrest1 this       
grasping at the comfort of life on the  
one hand1 and the patience1 the justice1
 the tolerance1 with which such claims  
are viewed by many possessors on the    
other1 is because there is a spirit of  
sympathy growing up1 which has not yet  
become self-sacrifice1 but is on its way
 to become so4  ,then we must ask       
ourselves what our duty is4 ,not1 ,i    
think1 with all our comforts about us1  
to chant loud odes about its being all  
right with the world1 but to see what we
 can do to make it all right1 to        
equalise1 to share1 to give4  ,the      
finest thing1 of course1 would be if    
those who are set in the midst of       
comfort could come calmly out of it1 and

 live simpler1 kinder1 more direct      
lives2 but apart from that1 what can we 
do8 ,is it our duty1 in the face of all 
that1 to surrender every species of     
enjoyment and delight1 to live meanly   
and anxiously because others have to    
live so8 ,i am not at all sure that it  
would not prove our greatness if the    
thought of all the helpless pain and    
drudgery of the world1 the drift of     
falling tears1 were so intolerable to us
 that we simply could not endure the    
thought2 but ,i think that would end in 
quixotism and pessimism of the worst    
kind1 if one would not eat or drink1    
because men starve in ,russia or ,india1
 if one would not sleep because         
sufferers toss through the night in     
pain4 ,that seems a morbid and          
self-sought suffering4  ,no1 ,i believe 
that we must share our joy as far as we 
can1 and that it is our duty rather to  
have joy to share1 and to guard the     
quality of it1 make it pure and true4   
,we do best if we can so refine our     

happiness as to make it a thing which is
 not dependent upon wealth or ease2 and 
the more natural our life is1 the more  
can we be of use by the example which is
 not self-conscious but contagious1 by  
showing that joy does not depend upon   
excitement and stimulus1 but upon vivid 
using of the very stuff of life4  ,where
 we fail1 many of us1 is in the         
elaborateness of our pleasures1 in the  
fact that we learn to be connoisseurs   
rather than viveurs1 in losing our taste
 for the ancient wholesome activities   
and delights4  ,i had caught an hour1   
that very day1 to visit the ,academy2 it
 was a doubtful pleasure1 though if ,i  
could have had the great rooms to myself
 it would have been a delightful thing  
enough2 but to be crushed and elbowed by
 such numbers of people who seemed      
intent not on looking at anything1 but  
on trying to see if they could recognise
 any of their friends6 ,it was a curious
 collection certainly6 ,so many pictures
 of old disgraceful men1 whose faces    

seemed like the faces of toads or       
magpies2 dull1 blinking1 malign1 or with
 the pert brightness of acquisition4    
,there were pictures too of human life  
so-called1 silly1 romantic1 insincerely 
posed2 some fatuous allegorical things1 
like ill-staged melodramas2 but the     
strength of ,english art came out for   
all that in the lovely landscapes1 rich 
fields1 summer streams1 far-off         
woodlands1 beating seas2 and ,i felt in 
looking at it all that the pictures     
which moved one most were those which   
gave one a sudden hunger for the joy and
 beauty of earth1 not ill-imagined      
fantastic places1 but scenes that one   
has looked upon a hundred times with    
love and contentment1 the corn-field1   
the mill with its brimming leat1 the    
bathing-place among quiet pastures1 the 
lake set deep in water-plants1 the old  
house in the twilight garden--all the   
things consecrated throughout long ages 
by use and life and joy4  ,and then ,i  
strayed into the sculpture gallery2 and 

,i cannot describe the thrill which half
 a dozen of the busts there gave        
me--faces into which the wonder and the 
love and the pain of life seemed to have
 passed1 and which gave me a sudden     
sense of that strange desire to claim a 
share in the past and present and future
 of the form and face in which one      
suddenly saw so much to love4 ,one      
seemed to feel hands held out2 hearts   
crying for understanding and affection1 
breath on one's cheek1 words in one's   
ears2 and thus the whole gallery melted 
into a great throng of signalling and   
beckoning presences1 the air dense with 
the voices of spirits calling to me1    
pressing upon me2 offering and claiming 
love1 all bound upon one mysterious     
pilgrimage1 none able to linger or to   
stay1 and yet willing to clasp one close
 by the roadside1 in wonder at the      
marvellous inscrutable power behind it  
all1 which at the same moment seemed to 
say1 ,rest here1 love1 be loved1 enjoy1 
and at the same moment cried1 ,go       

forward1 experience1 endure1 lament1    
come to an end4  ,there again opened    
before one the awful mystery of the     
beauty and the grief of life1 the double
 strain which we must somehow learn to  
combine1 the craving for continuance1   
side by side with the knowledge of      
interruption and silence4 ,if one is    
real1 the other cannot be real6 ,and ,i 
for one have no doubt of which reality  
,i hold to4 ,death and silence may      
deceive us2 life and joy cannot4 ,there 
may be something hidden beneath the     
seeming termination of mortal           
experience2 indeed1 ,i fully believe    
that there is2 but even if it were not  
so1 nothing could make love and joy     
unreal1 or destroy the consciousness of 
what says within us1 ,this ,is ,i4 ,our 
one hope then is not to be deceived or  
beguiled or bewildered by the complexity
 and intricacy of life2 the path of each
 of us lies clear and direct through the
 tangle4  ,and thus1 as ,i have said1   
our task is not to be defrauded of our  

interior peace4 ,no power that we know  
can do more than dissolve and transmute 
our mortal frame2 it can melt into the  
earth1 it can be carried into the depths
 of the sea1 but it cannot be           
annihilated2 and this is infinitely more
 true of our spirits2 they may undergo a
 thousand transformations and           
transmutations1 but they must be        
eternally there4  ,so let us claim our  
experience bravely and accept it firmly1
 never daunted by it1 never utterly     
despairing1 leaping back into life and  
happiness as swiftly as we can1 never   
doubting that it is assured to us4 ,the 
time that we waste is that which is     
spent in anxious1 trivial1 conventional 
things4 ,we have to bear them in our    
burdens1 many of us1 but do not let us  
be for ever examining them1 weighing    
them in our hands1 wishing them away1   
whining over them2 we must not let them 
beguile us of the better part4 ,if the  
despairing part of us cries out that it 
is frightened1 wearied1 anxious1 we must

 not heed it2 we must again and again   
assure ourselves that the peace is      
there1 and that we miss it by our own   
fault4 ,above all let us not make       
pitiable excuses for ourselves4 ,we must
 be like the woman in the parable who1  
when she lost the coin1 did not sit down
 to bewail her ill-luck1 but swept the  
house diligently until she found it4    
,there is no such thing as loss in the  
world2 what we lose is merely withheld  
until we have earned the right to find  
it again4 ,we must not cultivate        
repentance1 we must not yield to        
remorse4 ,the only thing worth having is
 a wholesome sorrow for not having done 
better2 but it is ignoble to remember1  
if our remembrance has anything hopeless
 about it2 and we do best utterly to    
forget our failures and lapses1 because 
of this we may be wholly sure1 that joys
 are restored to us1 that strength      
returns1 and that peace beyond measure  
is waiting for us2 and not only waiting 
for us1 but as near us as a closed door 

in the room in which we sit4 ,we can    
rise up1 we can turn thither1 we can    
enter if we will and when we will4      
,,xxii  ,,experience   ,it is very      
strange to contemplate the steady plunge
 of good advice1 like a cataract of     
ice-cold water1 into the brimming and   
dancing pool of youth and life1 the     
maxims of moralists and sages1 the      
epigrams of cynics1 the sermons of      
priests1 the good-humoured warnings of  
sensible men1 all crying out that       
nothing is really worth the winning1    
that fame brings weariness and anxiety1 
that love is a fitful fever1 that wealth
 is a heavy burden1 that ambition is a  
hectic dream2 to all of which           
ejaculations youth does not listen and  
cannot listen1 but just goes on its     
eager way1 trying its own experiments1  
believing in the delight of triumph and 
success1 determined1 at all events1 to  
test all for itself4 ,all this          
confession of disillusionment and       
disappointment is true1 but only        

partially true4 ,the struggle1 the      
effort1 the perseverance1 does bring    
fine things with it--things finer by far
 than the shining crown and the loud    
trumpets that attend it4  ,the          
explanation of it seems to be that men  
require to be tempted to effort1 by the 
dream of fame and wealth and leisure and
 imagined satisfaction4 ,it is the      
experience that we need1 though we do   
not know it2 and experience1 by itself1 
seems such a tedious1 dowdy1 tattered   
thing1 like a flag burnt by sun1        
bedraggled by rain1 torn by the onset1  
that it cannot by itself prove          
attractive4 ,men are heavily preoccupied
 with ends and aims1 and the recognised 
values of the objects of desire and hope
 are often false and distorted values4  
,so singularly constituted are we1 that 
the hope of idleness is alluring1 and   
some people are early deceived into     
habits of idleness1 because they cannot 
know what it is that lies on the further
 side of work4 ,of course the bodily    

life has to be supplied1 but when a man 
has all that he needs--let us say food  
and drink1 a quiet shelter1 a garden and
 a row of trees1 a grassy meadow with a 
flowing stream1 a congenial task1 a     
household of his own--it seems not      
enough6 ,let us suppose all that granted
 to a man3 he must consider next what   
kind of life he has gained2 he has the  
cup in his hands2 with what liquor is it
 to be filled8 ,that is the point at    
which the imagination of man seems to   
fail2 he cannot set himself to vigorous1
 wholesome life for its own sake4 ,he   
has to be ever looking past it and      
beyond it for something to yield him an 
added joy4  ,now1 what we all have to   
do1 if we can1 is to regard life        
steadily and generously1 to see that    
life1 experience1 emotion1 are the real 
gifts2 not things to be hurried through1
 thrust aside1 disregarded1 as a man    
makes a hasty meal before some occasion 
that excites him4 ,one must not use life
 like the passover feast1 to be eaten   

with loins girded and staff in hand4 ,it
 is there to be lived1 and what we have 
to do is to make the quality of it as   
fine as we can4  ,we must provide then1 
if we can1 a certain setting for life1 a
 sufficiency of work and sustenance1 and
 even leisure2 and then we must give    
that no further thought4 ,how many men  
do ,i not know1 whose thought seems to  
be when ,i have made enough money1 when 
,i have found my place1 when ,i have    
arranged the apparatus of life about me1
 then ,i will live as ,i should wish to 
live4 ,but the stream of desires        
broadens and thickens1 and the leisure  
hour never comes6  ,we must not thus    
deceive ourselves4 ,what we have to do  
is to make life1 instantly and without  
delay1 worthy to be lived4 ,we must try 
to enjoy all that we have to do1 and    
take care that we do not do what we do  
not enjoy1 unless the hard task we set  
ourselves is sure to bring us something 
that we really need4 ,it is useless thus
 to elaborate the cup of life1 if we    

find when we have made it1 that the wine
 which should have filled it has long   
ago evaporated4  ,can ,i say what ,i    
believe the wine of life to be8 ,i      
believe that it is a certain energy and 
richness of spirit1 in which both mind  
and heart find full expression4 ,we     
ought to rise day by day with a certain 
zest1 a clear intention1 a design to    
make the most out of every hour2 not to 
let the busy hours shoulder each other1 
tread on each other's heels1 but to     
force every action to give up its       
strength and sweetness4 ,there is work  
to be done1 and there are empty hours to
 be filled as well4 ,it is happiest of  
all1 for man and woman1 if those hours  
can be filled1 not as a duty but as a   
pleasure1 by pleasing those whom we love
 and whose nearness is at once a        
delight4 ,we ought to make time for that
 most of all4 ,and then there ought to  
be some occupation1 not enforced1 to    
which we naturally wish to return4      
,exercise1 gardening1 handicraft1       

writing1 even if it be only leisurely   
letters1 music1 reading--something to   
occupy the restless brain and hand2 for 
there is no doubt that both physically  
and mentally we are not fit to be       
unoccupied4  ,but most of all1 there    
must be something to quicken1 enliven1  
practise the soul4 ,we must not force   
this upon ourselves1 or it will be      
fruitless and dreary2 but neither must  
we let it lapse out of mere indolence4  
,we must follow some law of beauty1 in  
whatever way beauty appeals to us and   
calls us4 ,we must not think that appeal
 a selfish thing1 because it is upon    
that and that alone that our power of   
increasing peace and hope and vital     
energy belongs4  ,i have a man in mind  
who has a simple taste for books4 ,he   
has a singularly pure and fine power of 
selecting and loving what is best in    
books4 ,there is no self-consciousness  
about him1 no critical contempt of the  
fancies of others2 but his own love for 
what is beautiful is so modest1 so      

perfectly natural and unaffected1 that  
it is impossible to hear him speak of   
the things that he loves without a      
desire rising up in one's mind to taste 
a pleasure which brings so much         
happiness to the owner4 ,i have often   
talked with him about books that ,i had 
thought tiresome and dull2 but he       
disentangles so deftly the underlying   
idea of the book1 the thought that one  
must be on the look-out for the motive  
of the whole1 that he has again and     
again sent me back to a book which ,i   
had thrown aside1 with an added interest
 and perception4 ,but the really notable
 thing is the effect on his own         
immediate circle4 ,i do not think his   
family are naturally people of very high
 intelligence or ability4 ,but his mind 
and heart seem to have permeated theirs1
 so that ,i know no group of persons who
 seem to have imbibed so simply1 without
 strain or effort1 a delight in what is 
good and profound4 ,there is no sort of 
dryness about the atmosphere4 ,it is not

 that they keep talk resolutely on their
 own subjects2 it is merely that their  
outlook is so fresh and quick that      
everything seems alive and significant4 
,one comes away from the house with a   
horizon strangely extended1 and a sense 
that the world is full of live ideas and
 wonderful affairs4  ,i despair of      
describing an effect so subtle1 so      
contagious4 ,it is not in the least that
 everything becomes intellectual2 that  
would be a rueful consequence2 there is 
no parade of knowledge1 but knowledge   
itself becomes an exciting and          
entertaining thing1 like a varied       
landscape4 ,the wonder is1 when one is  
with these people1 that one did not see 
all the fine things that were staring   
one in the face all the time1 the clues1
 the connections1 the links4 ,the best  
of it is that it is not a transient     
effect2 it is rather like the implanting
 of a seed of fire1 which spreads and   
glows1 and burns unaided4  ,it is this  
sacred fire of which we ought all to be 

in search4 ,fire is surely the most     
wonderful symbol in the world6 ,we sit  
in our quiet rooms1 feeling safe1       
serene1 even chilly1 yet everywhere     
about us1 peacefully confined in all our
 furniture and belongings1 is a mass of 
inflammability1 stored with gases1 which
 at a touch are capable of leaping into 
flame4 ,i remember once being in a house
 in which a pile of wood in a cellar had
 caught fire2 there was a short delay1  
while the hose was got out1 and before  
an aperture into the burning room could 
be made4 ,i went into a peaceful        
dining-room1 which was just above the   
fire1 and it was strangely appalling to 
see little puffs of smoke fly off from  
the kindled floor1 while we tore the    
carpets up and flew to take the pictures
 down1 and to know the room was all     
crammed with vehement cells1 ready to   
burst into vapour at the fierce touch of
 the consuming element4  ,i saw once a  
vast bonfire of wood kindled on a grassy
 hill-top2 it was curiously affecting to

 see the great trunks melt into flame1  
and the red cataract pouring so softly1 
so unapproachably into the air4 ,it is  
so with the minds of men2 the material  
is all there1 compressed1 welded1       
inflammable2 and if the fire can but    
leap into our spirits from some other   
burning heart1 we may be amazed at the  
prodigal force and heat that can burst  
forth1 the silent energy1 the           
possibility of consumption4  ,i hold it 
to be of supreme value to each of us to 
try to introduce this fire of the heart 
into our spirits4 ,it is not like mortal
 fire1 a consuming1 dangerous1 truculent
 element4 ,it is rather like the furnace
 of the engine1 which can convert water 
into steam--the softest1 feeblest1      
purest element into irresistible and    
irrepressible force4 ,the materials are 
all at hand in many a spirit that has   
never felt the glowing contact2 and it  
is our business first to see that the   
elements are there1 and then to receive 
with awe the fiery touch4 ,it must be   

restrained1 controlled1 guarded1 that   
fierce conflagration2 but our joy cannot
 only consist of pure1 clear1 lambent1  
quiescent elements4 ,it must have a     
heart of flame4     ,,xxiii  ,,faith    
,we ought to learn to cultivate1 train1 
regulate emotion1 just as we train other
 faculties4 ,the world has hardly       
reached this point yet4 ,first man      
trains his body that he may be strong1  
when strength is supreme4 ,when almost  
the only argument is force1 the man who 
is drawn to play a fine part in the     
world must above everything be strong1  
courageous1 gallant1 so that he may go  
to combat joyful and serene1 like a man 
inspired4 ,then when the world becomes  
civilised1 when weakness combines       
against strength1 when men do not settle
 differences of feeling by combat and   
war1 but by peaceable devices like votes
 and arbitrations1 the intellect comes  
to the front1 and strength of body falls
 into the background as a pleasant      
enough thing1 a matter of amusement or  

health1 and intellect becomes the       
dominant force4 ,but we shall advance   
beyond even that1 and indeed we have    
begun to advance4 ,buddhism and the     
,stoic philosophy were movements        
dictated more by reason than by emotion1
 which recognised the elements of pain  
and sorrow as inseparable from human    
life1 and suggested to man that the only
 way to conquer evils such as these was 
by turning the back upon them1          
cultivating indifference to them1 and   
repressing the desires which issued in  
disappointment4 ,christianity was the   
first attempt of the human spirit to    
achieve a nobler conquest still2 it     
taught men to abandon the idea of       
conquest altogether2 the ,christian was 
meant to abjure ambition1 not to resist 
oppression1 not to meet violence by     
violence1 but to yield rather than to   
fight4  ,the metaphor of the ,christian 
soldier is wholly alien to the spirit of
 the ,gospel1 and the attempt to        
establish a combative ideal of          

,christian life was one of the many     
concessions that ,christianity in the   
hands of its later exponents made to the
 instincts of men4 ,the conception of   
the ,christian in the ,gospel was that  
of a simple1 uncomplicated1             
uncalculating being1 who was to be so   
absorbed in caring for others that the  
sense of his own rights and desires and 
aims was to fall wholly into the        
background4 ,he is not represented as   
meant to have any intellectual1         
political1 or artistic pursuits at all4 
,he is to accept his place in the world 
as he finds it2 he is to have no use for
 money or comforts or accumulated       
resources4 ,he is not to scheme for     
dignity or influence1 nor even much to  
regard earthly ties4 ,sorrow1 loss1     
pain1 evil1 are simply to be as shadows 
through which he passes1 and if they    
have any meaning at all for him1 they   
are to be opportunities for testing the 
strength of his emotions4 ,but the whole
 spirit of the ,christian revelation is 

that no terms should be made with the   
world at all4 ,the world must treat the 
,christian as it will1 and there are to 
be no reprisals2 neither is there the   
least touch of opportunism about it4    
,the ,christian is not to do the best he
 can1 but the best2 he is frankly to aim
 at perfection4  ,how then is this faith
 to be sustained8 ,it is to be nourished
 by a sense of direct and frank converse
 with a ,god and ,father4 ,the          
,christian is never to have any doubt   
that the intention of the ,father       
towards him is absolutely1 kind and     
good4 ,he attempts no explanation of the
 existence of sin and pain2 he simply   
endures them2 and he looks forward with 
serene certainty to the continued       
existence of the soul4 ,there is no hint
 given of the conditions under which the
 soul is to continue its further life1  
of its desires or occupations2 the      
intention obviously is that a ,christian
 should live life freely and fully2 but 
love1 and interest in human relations   

are to supersede all other aims and     
desires4  ,it has been often said that  
if the world were to accept the teaching
 of the ,sermon on the ,mount literally1
 the social fabric of the world would be
 dissolved in a month4 ,it is true2 but 
it is not generally added that it would 
be because there would be no need of the
 social fabric4 ,the reason why the     
social fabric would be dissolved is     
because there would doubtless be a      
minority which would not accept these   
principles1 and would seize upon the    
things which the world agrees to        
consider desirable4 ,the ,christian     
majority would become the slaves of the 
unchristian minority1 and would be at   
their mercy4 ,christianity1 in so far as
 it is a social system at all1 is the   
purest kind of socialism1 a socialism   
not of compulsion but of                
disinterestedness4 ,it is easy1 of      
course1 to scoff at the possibility of  
so far disintegrating the vast and      
complex organisation of society1 as to  

arrange life on the simpler lines2 but  
the fact remains that the very few      
people in the world's history1 like ,st4
 ,francis of ,assisi1 for instance1 who 
have ever dared to live literally in the
 ,christian manner1 have had an         
immeasurable effect upon the hearts and 
imaginations of the world4 ,the truth is
 not that life cannot be so lived1 but  
that humanity dares not take the plunge2
 and that is what ,christ meant when ,he
 said that few would find the narrow    
way4 ,the really amazing thing is that  
such immense numbers of people have     
accepted ,christianity in the world1 and
 profess themselves ,christians without 
the slightest doubt of their sincerity1 
who never regard the ,christian         
principles at all4 ,the chief aim1 it   
would seem1 of the ,church1 has been not
 to preserve the original revelation1   
but to accommodate it to human instincts
 and desires4 ,it seems to me to        
resemble the very quaint and simple old 
,breton legend1 which relates how the   

,saviour sent the ,apostles out to sell 
stale fish as fresh2 and when they      
returned unsuccessful1 ,he was angry    
with them1 and said1 ,how shall ,i make 
you into fishers of men1 if you cannot  
even persuade simple people to buy stale
 fish for fresh8 ,that is a very        
trenchant little allegory of            
ecclesiastical methods6 ,and perhaps it 
is even so that it has come to pass that
 ,christianity is in a sense a failure1 
or rather an unfulfilled hope1 because  
it has made terms with the world1 has   
become pompous and respectable and      
mundane and influential and combative1  
and has deliberately exalted civic duty 
above love4  ,it seems to me that it is 
the business of all serious ,christians 
deliberately to face this fact2 and     
equally it is not their business to try 
to destroy the social organisation of   
what is miscalled ,christianity4 ,that  
is as much a part of the world now as   
the ,roman ,empire was a part of the    
world when ,christ came2 but we must not

 mistake it for ,christianity4          
,christianity is not a doctrine1 or an  
organisation1 or a ceremonial1 or a     
society1 but an atmosphere and a life4  
,the essence of it is to train emotion1 
to believe and to practise the belief   
that all human beings have in them      
something interesting1 lovable1         
beautiful1 pathetic2 and to make the    
recognition of that fact1 the           
establishment of simple and kind        
relations with every single person with 
whom one is brought into contact1 the   
one engrossing aim of life4 ,thus the   
essence of ,christianity is in a sense  
artistic1 because it depends upon freely
 recognising the beauty both of the     
natural world and the human spirit4     
,there are enough hints of this in the  
,gospel1 in the tender observation of   
,christ1 ,his love of flowers1 birds1   
children1 the fact that ,he noted and   
reproduced in ,his stories the beauty of
 the homely business of life1 the       
processes of husbandry in field and     

vineyard1 the care of the sheepfold1 the
 movement of the street1 the games of   
boys and girls1 the little festivals of 
life1 the wedding and the party2 all    
these things appear in ,his talk1 and if
 more of it were recorded1 there would  
undoubtedly be more of such things4 ,it 
is true that as opposition and strife   
gathered about ,him1 there falls a      
darker and sadder spirit upon the page1 
and the anxieties and ambitions of ,his 
followers reflect themselves in the     
record of denunciations and censures4   
,but we must not be misled by this into 
thinking that the message is thus       
obscured4  ,what then we have to do1 if 
we would follow the pure ,gospel1 is to 
lead quiet lives1 refresh the spirit of 
joy within us by feeding our eyes and   
minds with the beautiful sounds and     
sights of nature1 the birds' song1 the  
opening faces of flowers1 the spring    
woods1 the winter sunset2 we must enter 
simply and freely into the life about   
us1 not seeking to take a lead1 to      

impress our views1 to emphasise our own 
subjects2 we must not get absorbed in   
toil or business1 and still less in     
plans and intrigues2 we must not protest
 against these things1 but simply not   
care for them2 we must not be burdensome
 to others in any way2 we must not be   
shocked or offended or disgusted1 but   
tolerate1 forgive1 welcome1 share4 ,we  
must treat life in an eager1            
light-hearted way1 not ruefully or      
drearily or solemnly4 ,the old language 
in which the ,gospel comes to us1 the   
formality of the antique phrasing1 the  
natural tendency to make it dignified   
and hieratic1 disguise from us how      
utterly natural and simple it all is4 ,i
 do not think that reverence and        
tradition and awe have done us any more 
grievous injury than the fact that we   
have made the ,saviour into a figure    
with whom frank communication1 eager1   
impulsive talk1 would seem to be        
impossible4 ,one thinks of ,him1 from   
pictures and from books1 as grave1      

abstracted1 chiding1 precise1 mournfully
 kind1 solemnly considerate4 ,i believe 
it in my heart to have been wholly      
otherwise1 and ,i think of ,him as one  
with whom any simple and affectionate   
person1 man1 woman1 or child1 would have
 been entirely and instantly at ease4   
,like all idealistic and poetical       
natures1 he had little use1 ,i think1   
for laughter2 those who are deeply      
interested in life and its issues care  
more for the beauty than the humour of  
life4 ,but one sees a flash of humour   
here and there1 as in the story of the  
unjust judge1 and of the children in the
 market-place2 and that ,he was         
disconcerting or cast a shadow upon     
natural talk and merriment ,i do not for
 an instant believe4  ,and thus ,i think
 that the ,christian has no right to be 
ashamed of light-heartedness2 indeed ,i 
believe that he ought to cultivate and  
feed it in every possible way4 ,he ought
 to be so unaffected1 that he can change
 without the least incongruity from     

laughter to tears1 sympathising with1   
entering into1 developing the moods of  
those about him4 ,the moment that the   
,christian feels himself to be out of   
place and affronted by scenes of common 
resort--the market1 the bar1 the        
smoking-room--that moment his love of   
humanity fails him4 ,he must be         
charming1 attractive1 genial1           
everywhere2 for the severance of        
goodness and charm is a most wretched   
matter2 if he affects his company at    
all1 it must be as innocent and         
beautiful girlhood affects a circle1 by 
its guilelessness1 its sweetness1 its   
appeal4 ,i have known ,christians like  
this1 wise1 beloved1 simple1 gentle     
people1 whose presence did not bring    
constraint but rather a perfect ease1   
and was an evocation of all that was    
best and finest in those near them4 ,i  
am not recommending a kind of silly     
mildness1 interested only in improving  
conversation1 but rather a zest1 a      
shrewdness1 a bonhomie1 not finding     

natural interests common and unclean1   
but passionately devoted to human       
nature--so impulsive1 frail1 unequal1   
irritable1 pleasure-loving1 but yet with
 that generous1 sweet1 wholesome fibre  
below1 that seems to be evoked in crisis
 and trial from the most apparently     
worthless human beings4 ,the outcasts of
 society1 the sinful1 the ill-regulated1
 would never have so congregated about  
our ,saviour if they had felt ,him to be
 shocked or indignant at sin4 ,what they
 must rather have felt was that ,he     
understood them1 loved them1 desired    
their love1 and drew out all the true   
and fine and eager and lovable part of  
them1 because he knew it to be there1   
wished it to emerge4 ,he was such a     
comfortable person6 as a simple man once
 said to me of one of the best of       
,christians3 if you had gone wrong1 he  
did not find fault1 but tried to see the
 way out2 and if you were in pain or    
trouble1 he said very little2 you only  
felt it was all right when he was by4   

,,xxiv  ,,progress   ,we must always    
hopefully and gladly remember that the  
great movements1 doctrines1 thoughts1   
which have affected the life of the     
world most deeply1 are those which are  
most truly based upon the best and      
truest needs of humanity4 ,we need never
 be afraid of a new theory or a new     
doctrine1 because such things are never 
imposed upon an unwilling world1 but owe
 their strength to the closeness with   
which they interpret the aims and wants 
of human beings4 ,still more hopeful is 
the knowledge which one gains from      
looking back at the history of the      
world1 that no selfish1 cruel1 sensual1 
or wicked interpretation of life has    
ever established a vital hold upon men4 
,the selfish and the cruel elements of  
humanity have never been able to band   
themselves together against the power of
 good for very long1 for the simple     
reason that those who are selfish and   
evil have a natural suspicion of other  
selfish and evil people2 and no         

combination of men can ever be based    
upon anything but mutual trust and      
affection4 ,and thus good has always a  
power of combination1 while evil is     
naturally solitary and disjunctive4     
,take such an attempt as that of        
,nietzsche to establish a new theory of 
life4 ,his theory of the superman is    
simply this1 that the future of the     
world was in the hands of strong1       
combative1 powerful1 predatory people4  
,those are the supermen1 a natural      
aristocracy of force and                
unscrupulousness and vigour4 ,but such  
individuals carry with them the seed of 
their own failure1 because even if      
,nietzsche's view that the weak and     
broken elements of humanity were doomed 
to perish1 and ought even to be helped  
to perish1 were a true view1 even if his
 supermen at last survived1 they must   
ultimately be matched one against       
another in some monstrous and           
unflinching combat4  ,nietzsche held    
that the ,christian doctrine of         

renunciation was but a translating into 
terms of a theory the discontent1 the   
disappointment1 the failure of the weak 
and diseased element of humanity1 the   
slavish herd4 ,he thought that          
,christianity was a glorification1 a    
consecration of man's weakness and not  
of his strength4 ,but he misjudged it   
wholly4 ,it is based in reality upon the
 noble element in humanity1 the power of
 love and trust and unselfishness which 
rises superior to the ills of life2 and 
the force of ,christianity lies in the  
fact that it reveals to men the         
greatness of which they are capable1 and
 the fact that no squalor or            
wretchedness of circumstances can bind  
the thought of man1 if it is set upon   
what is high and pure4 ,the man or woman
 who sees the beauty of inner purity    
cannot ever be very deeply tainted by   
corruption either of body or of soul4   
,renunciation is not a wholly passive   
thing2 it is not a mere suspicion of all
 that is joyful1 a dull abnegation of   

happiness4 ,it is not that              
self-sacrifice means a frame of mind too
 despondent to enjoy1 so fearful of     
every kind of pleasure that it has not  
the heart to take part in it4 ,it is    
rather a vigorous discrimination between
 pleasure and joy1 an austerity which is
 not deceived by selfish1 obvious1      
apparent pleasure1 but sees what sort of
 pleasure is innocent1 natural1 social1 
and what sort of pleasure is corroding1 
barren1 and unreal4  ,in the            
,christianity of the ,gospel there is   
very little trace of asceticism4 ,the   
delight in life is clearly indicated1   
and the only sort of self-denial that is
 taught is the self-denial that ends in 
simplicity of life1 and in the joyful   
and courageous shouldering of inevitable
 burdens4 ,self-denial was not to be    
practised in a spiritless and timid way1
 but rather as a man accepts the        
fatigues and dangers of an expedition1  
in a vigorous and adventurous mood4 ,one
 does not think of the men who go on    

some ,arctic exploration1 with all the  
restrictions of diet that they have to  
practise1 all the uncomfortable rules of
 life they have to obey1 as renouncing  
the joys of life2 they do so naturally1 
in order that they may follow a livelier
 inspiration4 ,it is clear from the     
accounts of primitive ,christians that  
they impressed their heathen neighbours 
not as timid1 anxious1 and despondent   
people1 but as men and women with some  
secret overflowing sense of joy and     
energy1 and with a curious radiance and 
brightness about them which was not an  
affected pose1 but the redundant        
happiness of those who have some glad   
knowledge in heart and mind which they  
cannot repress4  ,let us suppose the    
case of a man gifted by nature with a   
great vitality1 with a keen perception  
of all that is beautiful in life1 all   
that is humorous1 all that is           
delightful4 ,imagine him extremely      
sensitive to nature1 art1 human charm1  
human pleasure1 doing everything with   

zest1 interest1 amusement1 excitement4  
,imagine him1 too1 deeply sensitive to  
affection1 loving to be loved1 grateful1
 kindly1 fond of children and animals1 a
 fervent lover1 a romantic friend1 alive
 to all fine human qualities4 ,suppose1 
too1 that he is ambitious1 desirous of  
fame1 liking to play an active part in  
life1 fond of work1 wishing to sway     
opinion1 eager that others should care  
for the things for which he cares4      
,well1 he must make a certain choice1 no
 doubt2 he cannot gratify all these     
things2 his ambition may get in the way 
of his pleasure1 his affections may     
interrupt his ambitions4 ,what is his   
renunciation to be8 ,it obviously will  
not be an abnegation of everything4 ,he 
will not feel himself bound to crush all
 enjoyment1 to refuse to love and be    
loved1 to enter tamely and passively    
into life4 ,he will inevitably choose   
what is dearest to his heart1 whatever  
that may be1 and he will no doubt       
instinctively eliminate from his life   

the joys which are most clouded by      
dissatisfaction4 ,if he sets affection  
aside for the sake of ambition1 and then
 finds that the thought of the love he  
has slighted or disregarded wounds and  
pains him1 he will retrace his steps2 if
 he sees that his ambitions leave him no
 time for his enjoyment of art or       
nature1 and finds his success embittered
 by the loss of those other enjoyments1 
he will curb his ambition2 but in all   
this he will not act anxiously and      
wretchedly4 ,he will be rather like a   
man who has two simultaneous pleasures  
offered him1 one of which must exclude  
the other4 ,he will not spoil both1 but 
take what he desires most1 and think no 
more of what he rejects4  ,the more that
 such a man loves life1 the less is he  
likely to be deceived by the shows of   
life2 the more wisely will he judge what
 part of it is worth keeping1 and the   
less will he be tempted by anything     
which distracts him from life itself4   
,it is fulness of life1 after all1 that 

he is aiming at1 and not vacuity2 and   
thus renunciation becomes not a feeble  
withdrawal from life1 but a vigorous    
affirmation of the worth of it4  ,but of
 course we cannot all expect to deal    
with life on this high-handed scale4    
,the question is what most of us1 who   
feel ourselves sadly limited1           
incomplete1 fractious1 discontented1    
fitful1 unequal to the claims upon us1  
should do4 ,if we have no sense of eager
 adventure1 but are afraid of life1     
overshadowed by doubts and anxieties1   
with no great spring of pleasure1 no    
passionate emotions1 no very definite   
ambitions1 what are we then to do8  ,or 
perhaps our case is even worse than     
that2 we are meanly desirous of comfort1
 of untroubled ease1 we have a secret   
love of low pleasures1 a desire to gain 
rather than to deserve admiration and   
respect1 a temptation to fortify        
ourselves against life by accumulating  
all sorts of resources1 with no         
particular wish to share anything1 but  

aiming to be left alone in a circle     
which we can bend to our will and make  
useful to us2 that is the hard case of  
many men and women2 and even if by      
glimpses we see that there is a finer   
and a freer life outside1 we may not be 
conscious of any real desire to issue   
from our stuffy parlour4  ,in either    
case our duty and our one hope is clear2
 that we have got somehow1 at all costs 
and hazards1 to find our way into the   
light of day4 ,it is such as these1 the 
anxious and the fearful on the one hand1
 the gross and sensual on the other1 who
 need most of all a ,joyous ,gard of    
their own4 ,because we are coming to the
 light1 as ,walt ,whitman so splendidly 
says3--,the ,lord advances and yet      
advances 444 always the shadow in front1
 always the reach'd hand bringing up the
 laggards4  ,our business1 if we know   
that we are laggards1 if we only dimly  
suspect it1 is not to fear the shadow1  
but to seize the outstretched hands4 ,we
 must grasp the smallest clue that leads

 out of the dark1 the resolute fight    
with some slovenly and ugly habit1 the  
telling of our mean troubles to some one
 whose energy we admire and whose       
disapproval we dread2 we must try the   
experiment1 make the plunge2 all at once
 we realise that the foundations are    
laid1 that the wall is beginning to rise
 above the rubbish and the dbris2 we    
must build a home for the new-found joy1
 even if as yet it only sings drowsily  
and faintly within our hearts1 like the 
awaking bird in the dewy thicket1 when  
the fingers of the dawn begin to raise  
the curtain of the night4     ,,xxv     
,,the ,,sense ,,of ,,beauty   ,there is 
one difficulty which stands at the      
threshold of dealing with the sense of  
beauty so as to give it due importance  
and preponderance1 and that is that it  
seems with many people to be so frail a 
thing1 and to visit the mind only as the
 last grace of a mood of perfect        
serenity and well-being4 ,many people1  
and those not the least thoughtful and  

intelligent1 find by experience that it 
is almost the first thing to disappear  
in moments of stress and pressure4      
,physical pain1 grief1 pre-occupation1  
business1 anxiety1 all seem to have the 
power of quenching it instantaneously1  
until one is apt to feel that it is a   
thing of infinite delicacy and          
tenderness1 and can only co-exist with a
 tranquillity which it is hard in life  
to secure4 ,the result of this no doubt 
is that many active-minded and forcible 
people are ready to think little of it1 
and just regard it as a mood that may   
accompany a well-earned holiday1 and    
even so to be sparingly indulged4  ,it  
is also undoubtedly true that in many   
robust and energetic people the sense of
 what is beautiful is so far atrophied  
that it can only be aroused by scenes   
and places of almost melodramatic       
picturesqueness1 by ancient buildings   
clustered on craggy eminences1 great    
valleys with the frozen horns of        
mountains1 wind-ravaged and             

snow-streaked1 peering over forest      
edges1 the thunder and splendour of     
great sea-breakers plunging landward    
under rugged headlands and cliff-fronts4
 ,but all this pursuit of sensational   
beauty is to mistake its quality2 the   
moment it is thus pursued it ceases to  
be the milk and honey of life1 and it   
becomes a kind of stimulant which       
excites rather than tranquillises4 ,i do
 not mean that one should of set purpose
 avoid the sight of wonderful prospects 
and treasure-houses of art1 or act as   
the poet ,gray did when he was          
travelling with ,horace ,walpole in the 
,alps1 when they drew up the blinds of  
their carriage to exclude the sight of  
such prodigious and unmanning horrors6  
,still ,i think that if one is on the   
right track1 and if beauty has its due  
place and value in life1 there will be  
less and less impulse to go far afield  
for it1 in search of something to thrill
 the dull perception and quicken it into
 life4 ,i believe that people ought to  

be content to live most of their lives  
in the same place1 and to grow to love  
familiar scenes4 ,familiarity with a    
scene ought not to result in the        
obliteration of all consciousness of it3
 one ought rather to find in use and    
affection an increased power of subtle  
interpretation1 a closer and finer      
understanding of the qualities which    
underlie the very simplest of ,english  
landscapes4 ,i live1 myself1 for most of
 the year in a countryside that is often
 spoken of by its inhabitants as dull1  
tame1 and featureless2 yet ,i cannot say
 with what daily renewal of delight ,i  
wander in the pastoral ,cambridge       
landscape1 with its long low lines of   
wold1 its whitewalled1 straw-thatched   
villages embowered in orchards and elms1
 its slow willow-bound streams1 its     
level fenland1 with the far-seen        
cloud-banks looming overhead3 or again  
in the high-ridged1 well-wooded land of 
,sussex1 where ,i often live1 the pure  
lines of the distant downs seen over the

 richly coloured intervening weald grow 
daily more dear and intimate1 and appeal
 more and more closely to the deepest   
secrets of sweetness and delight4 ,for  
as we train ourselves to the perception 
of beauty1 we become more and more alive
 to a fine simplicity of effect2 we find
 the lavish accumulation of rich and    
magnificent glories bewildering and     
distracting4  ,and this is the same with
 other arts2 we no longer crave to be   
dazzled and flooded by passionate and   
exciting sensation1 we care less and    
less for studied mosaics of word and    
thought1 and more and more for clearness
 and form and economy and austerity4    
,restless exuberance becomes unwelcome1 
complexity and intricacy weary us2 we   
begin to perceive the beauty of what    
,fitzgerald called the 'great still     
books4' ,we do not desire a             
kaleidoscopic pageant of blending and   
colliding emotions1 but crave for       
something distinctly seen1 entirely     
grasped1 perfectly developed4 ,because  

we are no longer in search of something 
stimulating and exciting1 something to  
make us glide and dart among the surge  
and spray of life1 but what we crave for
 is rather a calm and reposeful         
absorption in a thought which can yield 
us all its beauty1 and assure us of the 
existence of a principle in which we can
 rest and abide4 ,as life goes on1 we   
ought not to find relief from tedium    
only in a swift interchange and         
multiplication of sensations2 we ought  
rather to attain a simple and sustained 
joyfulness which can find nurture in    
homely and familiar things4  ,if again  
the sense of beauty is so frail a thing 
that it is at the mercy of all intruding
 and jarring elements1 it is also one of
 the most patient and persistent of     
quiet forces4 ,like the darting fly     
which we scare from us1 it returns again
 and again to settle on the spot which  
it has chosen4 ,there are1 it is true1  
troubled and anxious hours when the     
beauty round us seems a cruel and       

intrusive thing1 mocking us with a peace
 which we cannot realise1 and torturing 
us with the reminder of the joy we have 
lost4 ,there are days when the only way 
to forget our misery is to absorb       
ourselves in some practical energy2 but 
that is because we have not learned to  
love beauty in the right way4 ,if we    
have only thought of it as a pleasant   
ingredient in our cup of joy1 as a thing
 which we can just use as we can use    
wine1 to give us an added flush of      
unreasonable content1 then it will fail 
us when we need it most4 ,when a man is 
under the shadow of a bereavement1 he   
can test for himself how he has used    
love4 ,if he finds that the loving looks
 and words and caresses of those that   
are left to him are a mere torture to   
him1 then he has used love wrongly1 just
 as a selfish and agreeable delight2 but
 if he finds strength and comfort in the
 yearning sympathy of friend and        
beloved1 reassurance in the strength of 
the love that is left him1 and          

confidence in the indestructibility of  
affection1 then he has used love wisely 
and purely1 loving it for itself1 for   
its beauty and holiness1 and not only   
for the warmth and comfort it has       
brought him4  ,so1 if we have loved     
beauty well1 have seen in it a promise  
of ultimate joy1 a sign of a deliberate 
intention1 a message from a power that  
does not send sorrow and anxiety        
wantonly1 cruelly and indifferently1 an 
assurance of something that waits to    
welcome and bless us1 then beauty is not
 a mere torturing menace1 a heartless   
and unkind parading of joy which we     
cannot feel1 but a faithful pledge of   
something secure and everlasting1 which 
will return to us again and again in    
ever fuller measure1 even if the flow of
 it be sometimes suspended4  ,we ought  
then to train and practise our sense of 
beauty1 not selfishly and luxuriously1  
but so that when the dark hour comes it 
may help us to realise that all is not  
lost1 may alleviate our pain by giving  

us the knowledge that the darkness is   
the interruption1 but that the joy is   
permanent and deep and certain4  ,thus  
beauty1 instead of being for us but as  
the melody swiftly played when our      
hearts are high1 a mere momentary ray1 a
 happy accident that befalls us1 may    
become to us a deep and vital spring of 
love and hope1 of which we may say that 
it is there waiting for us1 like the    
home that awaits the traveller over the 
weary upland at the foot of the         
far-looming hill4 ,it may come to us as 
a perpetual sign that we are not        
forgotten1 and that the joy of which it 
makes mention survives all interludes of
 strife and uneasiness4 ,it is easy to  
slight and overlook it1 but if we do    
that1 we are deluded by the passing     
storm into believing that confusion and 
not peace is the end4 ,as ,george       
,meredith nobly wrote1 during the tragic
 and fatal illness of his wife1 ,here ,i
 am in the very pits of tragic life4444 
,happily for me1 ,i have learnt to live 

much in the spirit1 and see brightness  
on the other side of life1 otherwise    
this running of my poor doe with the    
inextricable arrow in her flanks would  
pull me down too4 ,the spirit1 the      
brightness of the other side1 that is   
the secret which beauty can communicate1
 and the message which she bears upon   
her radiant wings4     ,,xxvi  ,,the    
,,principle ,,of ,,beauty   ,i have     
loved1 said ,keats1 the principle of    
beauty in all things4 ,it is that to    
which all ,i have said has been leading1
 as many roads unite in one4 ,we must   
try to use discrimination1 not to be so 
optimistic that we see beauty if it is  
not there1 not to overwhelm every fling 
that every craftsman has at beauty with 
gush and panegyric2 not to praise beauty
 in all companies1 or to go off like a  
ripe broom-pod1 at a touch4 ,when       
,walter ,pater was confronted with      
something which courtesy demanded that  
he should seem to admire1 he used to say
 in that soft voice of his1 which       

lingered over emphatic syllables1 ,very 
costly1 no doubt6  ,but we must be      
generous to all beautiful intention1 and
 quick to see any faintest beckoning of 
the divine quality2 and indeed ,i would 
not have most people aim at too critical
 an attitude1 for ,i believe it is more 
important to enjoy than to appraise2    
still we must keep the principle in     
sight1 and not degenerate into mere     
collectors of beautiful impressions4 ,if
 we simply try to wallow in beauty1 we  
are using it sensually2 while if on the 
other hand we aim at correctness of     
taste1 which is but the faculty of      
sincere concurrence with the artistic   
standards of the day1 we come to a      
sterile connoisseurship which has no    
living inspiration about it4 ,it is the 
temperate use of beauty which we must   
aim at1 and a certain candour of        
observation1 looking at all things1     
neither that we may condemn if we can1  
nor that we may luxuriously abandon     
ourselves to sensation1 but that we may 

draw from contemplation something of the
 inner light of life4  ,i have not here 
said much about the arts--music1        
sculpture1 painting1                    
architecture--because ,i do not want to 
recommend any specialisation in beauty4 
,i know1 indeed1 several high-minded    
people1 diligent1 unoriginal1 faithful1 
who have begun by recognising in a      
philosophical way the worth and force of
 beauty1 but who1 having no direct      
instinct for it1 have bemused themselves
 by conventional and conscientious      
study1 into the belief that they are on 
the track of beauty in art1 when they   
have no real appreciation of it at all1 
no appetite for it1 but are only bent on
 perfecting temperament1 and whose      
unconscious motive has been but a fear  
of not being in sympathy with men whose 
ardour they admire1 but whose love of   
beauty they do not really share4 ,such  
people tend to gravitate to early       
,italian painting1 because of its       
historical associations1 and because it 

can be categorically studied4 ,they     
become what is called 'purists1' which  
means little more than a learned        
submissiveness4 ,in literature they are 
found to admire ,carlyle1 ,ruskin1 and  
,browning1 not because of their method  
of treating thought1 but because of the 
ethical maxims imbedded--as though one  
were to love a conserve of plums for the
 sake of the stones6  ,one should love  
great writers and great artists not     
because of their great thoughts--there  
are plenty of inferior writers who      
traffic in great thoughts--but because  
great artists and writers are the people
 who can irradiate with a heavenly sort 
of light common thoughts and motives1 so
 as to show the beauty which underlies  
them and the splendour that breaks from 
them4 ,it is possible to treat fine     
thoughts in a heavy way so as to deprive
 them of all their rarity and           
inspiration4 ,the ,gospel contains some 
of the most beautiful thoughts in the   
world1 beautiful because they are common

 thoughts which every one recognises to 
be true1 yet set in a certain light1    
just as the sunset with its level1      
golden1 remote glow has the power of    
transfiguring a familiar scene with a   
glory of mystery and desire4 ,but one   
has but to turn over a volume of dull   
sermons1 or the pages of a dreary       
commentary1 to find the thoughts of the 
,gospel transformed into something that 
seems commonplace and uninspiring4 ,the 
beauty of ordinary things depends upon  
the angle at which you see them and the 
light which falls upon them2 and the    
work of the great artist and the great  
writer is to show things at the right   
angle1 and to shut off the confusing    
muddled cross-lights which conceal the  
quality of the thing seen4  ,the        
recognition of the principle of beauty  
lies in the assurance that many things  
have beauty1 if rightly viewed1 and in  
the determination to see things in the  
true light4 ,thus the soul that desires 
to see beauty must begin by believing it

 to be there1 must expect to see it1    
must watch for it1 must not be          
discouraged by those who do not see it1 
and least of all give heed to those who 
would forbid one to discern it except in
 definite and approved forms4 ,the worst
 of sthetic prophets is that1 like the  
,scribes1 they make a fence about the   
law1 and try to convert the search for  
principle into the accumulation of      
detailed tenets4  ,let us then never    
attempt to limit beauty to definite     
artistic lines2 that is the mistake of  
the superstitious formalist who limits  
divine influences to certain sanctuaries
 and fixed ceremonials4 ,the use of the 
sanctuary and the ceremonial is only to 
concentrate at one fiery point the wide 
current of impulsive ardour4 ,the true  
lover of beauty will await it           
everywhere1 will see it in the town1    
with its rising roofs and its bleached  
and blackened steeples1 in the seaport  
with its quaint crowded shipping1 in the
 clustered hamlet with its              

orchard-closes and high-roofed barns1 in
 the remote country with its wide fields
 and its converging lines1 in the       
beating of the sea on shingle-bank and  
promontory2 and then if he sees it      
there1 he will see it concentrated and  
emphasised in pictures of these things1 
the beauty of which lies so often in the
 sense of the loving apprehension of the
 mystery of lights and hues2 and then he
 will trace the same subtle spirit in   
the forms and gestures and expressions  
of those among whom he lives1 and will  
go deeper yet and trace the same spirit 
in conduct and behaviour1 in the free   
and gallant handling of life1 in the    
suppression of mean personal desires1 in
 doing dull and disagreeable things with
 a fine end in view1 in the noble       
affection of the simplest people2 until 
he becomes aware that it is a quality   
which runs through everything he sees or
 hears or feels1 and that the eternal   
difference is whether one views things  
dully and stupidly1 regarding the moment

 hungrily and greedily1 as a dog regards
 a plateful of food1 or whether one     
looks at it all as a process which has  
some fine and distant end in view1 and  
sees that all experience1 whether it be 
of things tangible and visible1 or of   
things intellectual and spiritual1 is   
only precious because it carries one    
forward1 forms1 moulds1 and changes one 
with a hope of some high and pure       
resurrection out of things base and     
hurried into things noble and serene4   
,the need1 the absolute need for all and
 each of us1 is to find something strong
 and great to rest and repose upon4     
,otherwise one simply falls back on the 
fact that one exists and on the whole   
enjoys existing1 while one shuns the    
pain and darkness of ceasing to exist4  
,as life goes on1 there comes such an   
impulse to say1 ,life is attractive and 
might be pleasant1 but there is always  
something shadowing it1 spoiling it1    
gnawing at it1 a worm in the bud1 of    
which one cannot be rid4 ,and so one    

sinks into a despairing apathy4  ,what  
then is one born for8 ,just to live and 
forget1 to be hurt and healed1 to be    
strong and grow weak8 ,that as the      
spirit falls into faintness1 the body   
should curdle into worse than dust8 ,to 
give each a memory of things sharp and  
sweet1 that no one else remembers1 and  
then to destroy that8  ,no1 that is not 
the end6 ,the end is rather to live     
fully and ardently1 to recognise the    
indestructibility of the spirit1 to     
strip off from it all that wounds and   
disables it1 not by drearily toiling    
against haunting faults1 but by rising  
as often as we can into serene ardour   
and deep hopefulness4 ,that is the      
principle of beauty1 to feel that there 
is something transforming and ennobling 
us1 which we can lay hold of if we wish1
 and that every time we see the great   
spirit at work and clasp it close to our
 feeble will1 we soar a step higher and 
see all things with a wider and a       
clearer vision4     ,,xxvii  ,,life     

,but in all this1 and indeed beyond all 
this1 we must not dare to forget one    
thing2 that it is life with which we are
 confronted1 and that our business is to
 live it1 and to live it in our own way2
 and here we may thankfully rejoice that
 there is less and less tendency in the 
world for people to dictate modes of    
life to us2 the tyrant and the despot   
are not only out of date--they are out  
of fashion1 which is a far more         
disabling thing6 ,there is of course a  
type of person in the world who loves to
 call himself robust and even           
virile--heaven help us to break down    
that bestial ideal of manhood6--who is  
of the stuff that all bullies have been 
made since the world began1 a compound  
of courage1 stupidity1 and complacency2 
to whom the word 'living' has no        
meaning1 unless it implies the          
disturbing and disquieting of other     
people4 ,we are gradually putting him in
 his right place1 and the kindlier      
future will have little need of him2    

because a sense is gradually shaping    
itself in the world that life is best   
lived on peaceful and orderly lines4    
,but if the robust viveur is on the     
wrong tack1 so long as he grabs and     
uses1 and neither gives nor is used1 so 
too the more peaceable and poetical     
nature makes a very similar mistake1 if 
his whole heart is bent upon receiving  
and enjoying2 for he too is filching and
 conveying away pleasure out of life1   
though he may do it more timidly and    
unobtrusively4 ,such a man or woman is  
apt to make too much out of the         
occasions and excitements of life1 to   
over-value the sthetic kind of success1 
which is the delicate impressing of     
other people1 claiming their admiration 
and applause1 and being ill-content if  
one is not noticed and praised4 ,such an
 one is apt to overlook the common stuff
 and use of life--the toil1 the         
endurance1 the discipline of it2 to     
flutter abroad only on sunshiny days1   
and to sit sullenly with folded wing    

when the sky breaks into rain and chilly
 winds are blowing4 ,the man who lives  
thus1 is in danger of over-valuing the  
raptures and thrills of life1 of being  
fitful and moody and fretful2 what he   
has to do is to spread serenity over his
 days1 and above all to be ready to     
combine1 to minister1 to sympathise1 to 
serve4 ,joyous ,gard is a very perilous 
place1 if we grow too indolent to leave 
it2 the essence of it is refreshment and
 not continuance4 ,there are two        
conditions attached to the use of it2   
one is that we should have our own      
wholesome work in the world1 and the    
second that we should not grow too      
wholly absorbed in labour4  ,no great   
moral leaders and inspirers of men have 
ever laid stress on excessive labour4   
,they have accepted work as one of the  
normal conditions of life1 but their    
whole effort has been to teach men to   
look away from work1 to find leisure to 
be happy and good4 ,there is no         
essential merit in work1 apart from its 

necessity4 ,of course men may find      
themselves in positions where it seems  
hard to avoid a fierce absorption in    
work4 ,it is said by legislators that   
the ,house of ,commons1 for instance1 is
 a place where one can neither work nor 
rest6 ,and ,i have heard busy men in    
high administrative office1 deplore     
rhetorically the fact that they have no 
time to read or think4 ,it is almost as 
unwholesome never to read or think as it
 is to be always reading and thinking1  
because the light and the inspiration   
fade out of life1 and leave one a gaunt 
and wolfish lobbyist1 who goes about    
seeking whom he may indoctrinate4 ,but  
,i have little doubt that when the world
 is organised on simpler lines1 we shall
 look back to this era1 as an era when  
men's heads were turned by work1 and    
when more unnecessary things were made  
and done and said than has ever been the
 case since the world began4  ,the      
essence of happy living is never to find
 life dull1 never to feel the ugly      

weariness which comes of overstrain2 to 
be fresh1 cheerful1 leisurely1 sociable1
 unhurried1 well-balanced4 ,it seems to 
me that it is impossible to be these    
things unless we have time to consider  
life a little1 to deliberate1 to select1
 to abstain4 ,we must not help ourselves
 either to work or to joy as if we were 
helping ourselves to potatoes6 ,if life 
ought not to be perpetual drudgery1     
neither can it be a perpetual feast4    
,what ,i believe we ought to aim at is  
to put interest and zest into the       
simplest acts1 words1 and relations of  
life1 to discern the quality of work and
 people alike4 ,we must not turn our    
whole minds and hearts to literature or 
art or work1 or even to religion2 but we
 must go deeper1 and look close at life 
itself1 which these interpret and out of
 which they flow4 ,for indeed life is   
nobler and richer than any one          
interpretation of it4 ,let us take for a
 moment one of the great interpreters of
 life1 ,robert ,browning1 who was so    

intensely interested above all things in
 personality4 ,the charm of his writing 
is that he contrives1 by some fine      
instinct1 to get behind and within the  
people of whom he writes1 sees with     
their eyes1 hears with their ears1      
though he speaks with his own lips4 ,but
 one must observe that the judgment of  
none of his characters is a final       
judgment2 the artist1 the lover1 the    
cynic1 the charlatan1 the sage1 the     
priest--they none of them provide a     
solution to life2 they set out on their 
quest1 they make their guesses1 they    
reveal their aims1 but they never       
penetrate the inner secret4 ,it is all  
inference and hope2 ,browning himself   
seems to believe in life1 not because of
 the reasons which his characters give  
for believing in it1 but in spite of all
 their reasons4 ,like little boats1 the 
reasons seem to strand1 one by one1 some
 sooner1 some later1 on the sands       
beneath the shallow sea2 and then the   
great serene large faith of the poet    

comes flooding in1 and bears them on    
their way4  ,it is somewhat thus that we
 must deal with life2 it is no good     
making up a philosophy which just keeps 
us gay when all is serene and           
prosperous4 ,unpleasant1 tedious1       
vexing1 humiliating1 painful1 shattering
 things befall us all by the way4 ,that 
is the test of our belief in life1 if   
nothing daunts us1 if nothing really    
mars our serenity of mood4  ,and so what
 this little book of mine tries to      
recommend is that we should bestir      
ourselves to design1 plan1 use1 practise
 life2 not drift helplessly on its      
current1 shouting for joy when all is   
bright1 helplessly bemoaning ourselves  
when all is dark2 and that we should do 
this by guarding ourselves from impulse 
and whim1 by feeding our minds and      
hearts on all the great words1 high     
examples1 patient endurances1 splendid  
acts1 of those whom we recognise to have
 been the finer sort of men4 ,one of the
 greatest blessings of our time is that 

we can do that so easily4 ,in the       
dullest1 most monotonous life we can    
stay ourselves upon this heavenly manna1
 if we have the mind4 ,we need not feel 
alone or misunderstood or unappreciated1
 even if we are surrounded by harsh1    
foolish1 dry1 discontented1 mournful    
persons4 ,the world is fuller now than  
it ever was of brave and kindly people  
who will help us if we ask for help4 ,of
 course if we choose to perish without a
 struggle1 we can do that4 ,and my last 
word of advice to people into whose     
hands this book may fall1 who are       
suffering from a sense of dim failure1  
timid bewilderment1 with a vague desire 
in the background to make something     
finer and stronger out of life1 is to   
turn to some one whom they can          
trust--not intending to depend          
constantly and helplessly upon them--and
 to get set in the right road4  ,of     
course1 as ,i have said1 care and       
sorrow1 heaviness and sadness--even     
disillusionment--must come2 but the     

reason of that is because we must not   
settle too close to the sweet and kindly
 earth1 but be ready to unfurl our wings
 for the passage over sea2 and to what  
new country of ,god1 what unknown troops
 and societies of human spirits1 what   
gracious reality of dwelling-place1 of  
which our beloved fields and woods and  
streams are nothing but the gentle and  
sweet symbols1 our flight may bear us1  
,i cannot tell2 but that we are all in  
the mind of ,god1 and that we cannot    
wander beyond the reach of ,his hand or 
the love of ,his heart1 of this ,i am   
more sure than ,i am of anything else in
 this world where familiarity and       
mystery are so strangely entwined4