,,at ,,large  ,by ,arthur ,christopher  
,benson   ,haec ego mecum   #aijh       
,contents       ,i4     ,,the ,,scene   
,,ii4    ,,contentment      ,,iii4      
,,friendship      ,,iv4    ,,humour     
,v4     ,,travel      ,,vi4             
,,specialism      ,,vii4   ,,our ,,lack 
,,of ,,great ,,men      ,,viii4         
,,shyness      ,,ix4    ,,equality      
,x4     ,,the ,,dramatic ,,sense        
,,xi4    ,,kelmscott ,,and ,,william    
,,morris      ,,xii4   ,a ,,speech ,,day
      ,,xiii4  ,,literary ,,finish      
,,xiv4   ,a ,,midsummer ,,day',s ,,dream
      ,,xv4    ,,symbols      ,,xvi4    
,,optimism      ,,xvii4  ,,joy          
,,xviii4 ,,the ,,love ,,of ,,god        
,,epilogue      ,i4 ,,the ,,scene       
,yes1 of course it is an experiment6    
,but it is made in corpore vili4 ,it is 
not irreparable1 and there is no reason1
 more's the pity1 why ,i should not     
please myself4 ,i will ask--it is a     
rhetorical question which needs no      
answer--what is a hapless bachelor to   

do1 who is professionally occupied and  
tied down in a certain place for just   
half the year8 ,what is he to do with   
the other half8 ,i cannot live on in my 
college rooms1 and ,i am not compelled  
to do so for economy4 ,i have near      
relations and many friends1 at whose    
houses ,i should be made welcome4 ,but  
,i cannot be like the wandering dove1   
who found no repose4 ,i have a great    
love of my independence and my liberty4 
,i love my own fireside1 my own chair1  
my own books1 my own way4 ,it is little 
short of torture to have to conform to  
the rules of other households1 to fall  
in with other people's arrangements1 to 
throw my pen down when the gong sounds1 
to make myself agreeable to fortuitous  
visitors1 to be led whither ,i would    
not4 ,i do this1 a very little1 because 
,i do not desire to lose touch with my  
kind2 but then my work is of a sort     
which brings me into close touch day    
after day with all sorts of people1 till
 ,i crave for recollection and repose2  

the prospect of a round of visits is one
 that fairly unmans me4 ,no doubt it    
implies a certain want of vitality1 but 
one does not increase one's vitality by 
making overdrafts upon it2 and then too 
,i am a slave to my pen1 and the        
practice of authorship is inconsistent  
with paying visits4 ,of course the      
obvious remedy is marriage2 but one     
cannot marry from prudence1 or from a   
sense of duty1 or even to increase the  
birth-rate1 which ,i am concerned to see
 is diminishing4 ,i am1 moreover1 to be 
perfectly frank1 a transcendentalist on 
the subject of marriage4 ,i know that a 
happy marriage is the finest and noblest
 thing in the world1 and ,i would resign
 all the conveniences ,i possess with   
the utmost readiness for it4 ,but a     
great passion cannot be the result of   
reflection1 or of desire1 or even of    
hope4 ,one cannot argue oneself into it2
 one must be carried away4 ,you have    
never let yourself go1 says a wise and  
gentle aunt1 when ,i bemoan my unhappy  

fate4 ,to which ,i reply that ,i have   
never done anything else4 ,i have lain  
down in streamlets1 ,i have leapt into  
silent pools1 ,i have made believe ,i   
was in the presence of a deep emotion1  
like the dear little girl in one of     
,reynolds's pictures1 who hugs a fat and
 lolling spaniel over an inch-deep      
trickle of water1 for fear he should be 
drowned4 ,i do not say that it is not my
 fault4 ,it is my fault1 my own fault1  
my own great fault1 as we say in the    
,compline confession4 ,the fault has    
been an over-sensibility4 ,i have       
desired close and romantic relations so 
much that ,i have dissipated my forces2 
yet when ,i read such a book as the     
love-letters of ,robert ,browning and   
,elizabeth ,barrett1 ,i realise at once 
both the supreme nature of the gift1 and
 the hopelessness of attaining it unless
 it be given2 but ,i try to complain1 as
 the beloved mother of ,carlyle said    
about her health1 as little as possible4
  ,well1 then1 as ,i say1 what is a     

reluctant bachelor who loves his liberty
 to do with himself8 ,i cannot abide the
 life of towns1 though ,i live in a town
 half the year4 ,i like friends1 and ,i 
do not care for acquaintances4 ,there is
 no conceivable reason why1 in the      
pursuit of pleasure1 ,i should frequent 
social entertainments that do not amuse 
me4 ,what have ,i then done8 ,i have    
done what ,i liked best4 ,i have taken a
 big roomy house in the quietest country
 ,i could find1 ,i have furnished it    
comfortably1 and ,i have hitherto found 
no difficulty in inducing my friends1   
one or two at a time1 to come and share 
my life4 ,i shall have something to say 
about solitude presently1 but meanwhile 
,i will describe my hermitage4  ,the old
 ,isle of ,ely lies in the very centre  
of the ,fens4 ,it is a range of low     
gravel hills1 shaped roughly like a     
human hand4 ,the river runs at the      
wrist1 and ,ely stands just above it1 at
 the base of the palm1 the fingers      
stretching out to the west4 ,the fens   

themselves1 vast peaty plains1 the      
bottoms of the old lagoons1 made up of  
the accumulation of centuries of rotting
 water-plants1 stretch round it on every
 side2 far away you can see the low     
heights of ,brandon1 the ,newmarket     
,downs1 the ,gogmagogs behind           
,cambridge1 the low wolds of            
,huntingdon4 ,to the north the          
interminable plain1 through which the   
rivers welter and the great levels run1 
stretches up to the ,wash4 ,so slight is
 the fall of the land towards the sea1  
that the tide steals past me in the huge
 ,hundred-foot cut1 and makes itself    
felt as far south as ,earith ,bridge1   
where the ,ouse comes leisurely down    
with its clear pools and reed-beds4 ,at 
the extremity of the southernmost of all
 the fingers of the ,isle1 a big hamlet 
clusters round a great ancient church1  
whose blunt tower is visible for miles  
above its grove of sycamores4 ,more than
 twelve centuries ago an old saint1     
whose name ,i think was ,owen1 though it

 was ,latinised by the monks into       
,ovinus1 because he had the care of the 
sheep1 kept the flocks of ,st4          
,etheldreda1 queen and abbess of ,ely1  
on these wolds4 ,one does not know what 
were the visions of this rude and ardent
 saint1 as he paced the low heights day 
by day1 looking over the monstrous      
lakes4 ,at night no doubt he heard the  
cries of the marsh-fowl and saw the     
elfin lights stir on the reedy flats4   
,perhaps some touch of fever kindled his
 visions2 but he raised a tiny shrine   
here1 and here he laid his bones2 and   
long after1 when the monks grew rich1   
they raised a great church here to the  
memory of the shepherd of the sheep1 and
 beneath it1 ,i doubt not1 he sleeps4   
,what is it ,i see from my low hills8   
,it is an enchanted land for me1 and ,i 
lose myself in wondering how it is that 
no one1 poet or artist1 has ever wholly 
found out the charm of these level      
plains1 with their rich black soil1     
their straight dykes1 their great       

drift-roads1 that run as far as the eye 
can reach into the unvisited fen4 ,in   
summer it is a feast of the richest     
green from verge to verge2 here a clump 
of trees stands up1 almost of the hue of
 indigo1 surrounding a lonely shepherd's
 cote2 a distant church rises1 a dark   
tower over the hamlet elms2 far beyond1 
,i see low wolds1 streaked and dappled  
by copse and wood2 far to the south1 ,i 
see the towers and spires of ,cambridge1
 as of some spiritual city--the smoke   
rises over it on still days1 hanging    
like a cloud2 to the east lie the dark  
pine-woods of ,suffolk1 to the north an 
interminable fen2 but not only is it    
that one sees a vast extent of sky1 with
 great cloud-battalions crowding up from
 the south1 but all the colour of the   
landscape is crowded into a narrow belt 
to the eye1 which gives it an intensity 
of emerald hue that ,i have seen nowhere
 else in the world4 ,there is a sense of
 deep peace about it all1 the herb of   
the field just rising in its place over 

the wide acres2 the air is touched with 
a lazy fragrance1 as of hidden flowers2 
and there is a sense1 too1 of silent and
 remote lives1 of men that glide quietly
 to and fro in the great pastures1 going
 quietly about their work in a leisurely
 calm4 ,in the winter it is fairer      
still1 if one has a taste for austerity4
 ,the trees are leafless now2 and the   
whole flat is lightly washed with the   
most delicate and spare tints1 the      
pasture tinted with the yellowing bent1 
the pale stubble1 the rich plough-land1 
all blending into a subdued colour2 and 
then1 as the day declines and the plain 
is rimmed with a frosty mist1 the       
smouldering glow of the orange sunset   
begins to burn clear on the horizon1 the
 grey laminated clouds becoming ridged  
with gold and purple1 till the whole    
fades1 like a shoaling sea1 into the    
purest green1 while the cloud-banks grow
 black and ominous1 and far-off lights  
twinkle like stars in solitary farms4   
,of the house itself1 exteriorly1       

perhaps the less said the better2 it was
 built by an earl1 to whom the estate   
belonged1 as a shooting-box4 ,i have    
often thought that it must have been    
ordered from the ,army and ,navy        
,stores4 ,it is of yellow brick1        
blue-slated1 and there has been a       
pathetic feeling after giving it a      
meanly ,gothic air2 it is ill-placed1   
shut in by trees1 approached only by a  
very dilapidated farm-road2 and the     
worst of it is that a curious and       
picturesque house was destroyed to build
 it4 ,it stands in what was once a very 
pretty and charming little park1 with an
 ancient avenue of pollard trees1 lime  
and elm4 ,you can see the old terraces  
of the ,hall1 the mounds of ruins1 the  
fish-ponds1 the grass-grown pleasance4  
,it is pleasantly timbered1 and ,i have 
an orchard of honest fruit-trees of my  
own4 ,first of all ,i expect it was a   
,roman fort2 for the other day my       
gardener brought me in half of the      
handle of a fine old ,roman water-jar1  

red pottery smeared with plaster1 with  
two pretty laughing faces pinched       
lightly out under the volutes4 ,a few   
days after ,i felt like ,polycrates of  
,samos1 that over-fortunate tyrant1     
when1 walking myself in my garden1 ,i   
descried and gathered up the rest of the
 same handle1 the fractures fitting     
exactly4 ,there are traces of ,roman    
occupation hereabouts in mounds and     
earthworks4 ,not long ago a man         
ploughing in the fen struck an old red  
vase up with the share1 and searching   
the place found a number of the same    
urns within the space of a few yards1   
buried in the peat1 as fresh as the day 
they were made4 ,there was nothing else 
to be found1 and the place was under    
water till fifty years ago2 so that it  
must have been a boatload of pottery    
being taken in to market that was       
swamped there1 how many centuries ago6  
,but there have been stranger things    
than that found2 half a mile away1 where
 the steep gravel hill slopes down to   

the fen1 a man hoeing brought up a      
bronze spear-head4 ,he took it to the   
lord of the manor1 who was interested in
 curiosities4 ,the squire hurried to the
 place and had it all dug out carefully2
 quite a number of spear-heads were     
found1 and a beautiful bronze sword1    
with the holes where the leather straps 
of the handle passed in and out4 ,i have
 held this fine blade in my hands1 and  
it is absolutely undinted4 ,it may be   
,roman1 but it is probably earlier4     
,nothing else was found1 except some    
mouldering fragments of wood that looked
 like spear-staves2 and this1 too1 it   
seems1 must have been a boatload of     
warriors1 perhaps some raiding party1   
swamped on the edge of the lagoon with  
all their unused weapons1 which they    
were presumably unable to recover1 if   
indeed any survived to make the attempt4
 ,hard by is the place where the great  
fight related in ,hereward the ,wake    
took place4 ,the ,normans were encamped 
southwards at ,willingham1 where a line 

of low entrenchments is still known as  
,belsar's ,field1 from ,belisarius1 the 
,norman ,duke in command4 ,it is a quiet
 enough place now1 and the              
yellow-hammers sing sweetly and sharply 
in the thick thorn hedges4 ,the ,normans
 made a causeway of faggots and earth   
across the fen1 but came at last to the 
old channel of the ,ouse1 which they    
could not bridge2 and here they         
attempted to cross in great             
flat-bottomed boats1 but were foiled by 
,hereward and his men1 their boats sunk1
 and hundreds of stout warriors drowned 
in the oozy river-bed4 ,there still     
broods for me a certain horror over the 
place1 where the river in its confined  
channel now runs quietly1 by sedge and  
willow-herb and golden-rod1 between its 
high flood banks1 to join the ,cam to   
the east4  ,but to return to my house4  
,it was once a monastic grange of ,ely1 
a farmstead with a few rooms1 no doubt1 
where sick monks and ailing novices were
 sent to get change of air and a taste  

of country life4 ,there is a bit of an  
old wall still bordering my garden1 and 
a strip of pale soil runs across the    
gooseberry beds1 pale with dust of      
mortar and chips of brick1 where another
 old wall stood4 ,there was a great     
pigeon-house here1 pulled down for the  
shooting-box1 and the garden is still   
full of old carved stones1 lintels1 and 
mullions1 and capitals of pillars1 and a
 grotesque figure of a bearded man1 with
 a tunic confined round the waist by a  
cord1 which crowns one of my rockeries4 
,but it is all gone now1 and the pert   
cockneyfied house stands up among the   
shrubberies and walnuts1 surveying the  
ruins of what has been4  ,but ,i must   
not abuse my house1 because whatever it 
is outside1 it is absolutely comfortable
 and convenient within3 it is solid1    
well built1 spacious1 sensible1         
reminding one of the solid joys and     
lasting treasure that the hymn says none
 but ,zion's children know4 ,and1       
indeed1 it is a ,zion to be at ease in4 

,one other great charm it has3 from the 
end of my orchard the ground falls      
rapidly in a great pasture4 ,some six   
miles away1 over the dark expanse of    
,grunty ,fen1 the towers of ,ely1       
exquisitely delicate and beautiful1     
crown the ridge2 on clear sunny days ,i 
can see the sun shining on the lead     
roofs1 and the great octagon rises with 
all its fretted pinnacles4 ,indeed1 so  
kind is ,providence1 that the huge brick
 mass of the ,ely water-tower1 like an  
overgrown ,temple of ,vesta1 blends     
itself pleasantly with the cathedral1   
projecting from the western front like a
 great ,galilee4  ,the time to make     
pious pilgrimage to ,ely is when the    
apple-orchards are in bloom4 ,then the  
grim western tower1 with its sombre     
windows1 the gabled roofs of the        
canonical houses1 rise in picturesque   
masses over acres of white blossom4 ,but
 for me1 six miles away1 the cathedral  
is a never-ending sight of beauty4 ,on  
moist days it draws nearer1 as if carved

 out of a fine blue stone2 on a grey day
 it looks more like a fantastic crag1   
with pinnacles of rock4 ,again it will  
loom a ghostly white against a          
thunder-laden sky4 ,grand and pathetic  
at once1 for it stands for something    
that we have parted with4 ,what was the 
outward and stately form of a mighty    
idea1 a rich system1 is now little more 
than an aesthetic symbol4 ,it has lost  
heart1 somehow1 and its significance    
only exists for ecclesiastically or     
artistically minded persons2 it         
represents a force no longer in the     
front of the battle4  ,one other fine   
feature of the countryside there is1 of 
which one never grows tired4 ,if one    
crosses over to ,sutton1 with its huge  
church1 the tower crowned with a noble  
octagon1 and the village pleasantly     
perched along a steep ridge of orchards1
 one can drop down to the west1 past a  
beautiful old farmhouse called          
,berristead1 with an ancient chapel1    
built into the homestead1 among fine    

elms4 ,the road leads out upon the fen1 
and here run two great ,levels1 as      
straight as a line for many miles1 up   
which the tide pulsates day by day2     
between them lies a wide tract of       
pasture called the ,wash1 which in      
summer is a vast grazing-ground for     
herds1 in rainy weather a waste of      
waters1 like a great estuary--north and 
south it runs1 crossed by a few roads or
 black-timbered bridges1 the fen-water  
pouring down to the sea4 ,it is a great 
place for birds this4 ,the other day ,i 
disturbed a brood of redshanks here1 the
 parent birds flying round and round1   
piping mournfully1 almost within reach  
of my hand4 ,a little further down1 not 
many months ago1 there was observed a   
great commotion in the stream1 as of    
some big beast swimming slowly2 the     
level was netted1 and they hauled out a 
great sturgeon1 who had somehow lost his
 way1 and was trying to find a          
spawning-ground4 ,there is an ancient   
custom that all sturgeon1 netted in     

,english waters1 belong by right to the 
sovereign2 but no claim was advanced in 
this case4 ,the line between ,ely and   
,march crosses the level1 further north1
 and the huge freight-trains go smoking 
and clanking over the fen all day4 ,i   
often walk along the grassy flood-bank  
for a mile or two1 to the tiny decayed  
village of ,mepal1 with a little ancient
 church1 where an old courtier lies1 an 
,englishman1 but with property near     
,lisbon1 who was a gentleman-in-waiting 
to ,james ,,ii4 in his ,french exile1   
retired invalided1 and spent the rest of
 his days between ,portugal and ,byall  
,fen--an odd pair of localities to be so
 conjoined6  ,and what of the life that 
it is possible to live in my sequestered
 grange8 ,i suppose there is not a      
quieter region in the whole of ,england4
 ,there are but two or three squires and
 a few clergy in the ,isle1 but the     
villages are large and prosperous2 the  
people eminently friendly1 shrewd and   
independent1 with homely names for the  

most part1 but with a sprinkling both of
 ,saxon appellations1 like ,cutlack1    
which is ,guthlac a little changed1 and 
,norman names1 like ,camps1 inherited   
perhaps from some invalided soldier who 
made his home there after the great     
fight4 ,there is but little             
communication with the outer world2 on  
market-days a few trains dawdle along   
the valley from ,ely to ,st4 ,ives and  
back again4 ,they are fine1 sturdy1     
prosperous village communities1 that    
mind their own business1 and take their 
pleasure in religion and in song1 like  
their forefathers the fenmen1 ,girvii1  
who sang their three-part catches with  
rude harmony4  ,part of the charm of the
 place is1 ,i confess1 its loneliness4  
,one may go for weeks together with     
hardly a caller2 there are no social    
functions1 no festivities1 no           
gatherings4 ,one may once in a month    
have a chat with a neighbour1 or take a 
cup of tea at a kindly parsonage4 ,but  
people tend to mind their own business1 

and live their own lives in their own   
circle2 yet there is an air of tranquil 
neighbourliness all about4 ,the         
inhabitants of the region respect one's 
taste in choosing so homely and serene a
 region for a dwelling-place1 and they  
know that whatever motive one may have  
had for coming1 it was not dictated by a
 feverish love of society4 ,i have never
 known a district--and ,i have lived in 
many parts of ,england--where one was so
 naturally and simply accepted as a part
 of the place4 ,one is greeted in all   
directions with a comfortable           
cordiality1 and a natural sort of       
good-breeding2 and thus the life comes  
at once to have a precise quality1 a    
character of its own4 ,every one is     
independent1 and one is expected to be  
independent too4 ,there is no suspicion 
of a stranger2 it is merely recognised  
that he is in search of a definite sort 
of life1 and he is made frankly and     
unostentatiously at home4  ,and so the  
days race away there in the middle of   

the mighty plain4 ,no plans are ever    
interrupted1 no one questions one's     
going and coming as one will1 no one    
troubles his head about one's           
occupations or pursuits4 ,any help or   
advice that one needs is courteously and
 readily given1 and no favours asked or 
expected in return4 ,one little incident
 gave me considerable amusement4 ,there 
is a private footpath of my own which   
leads close to my house2 owing to the   
house having stood for some time        
unoccupied1 people had tended to use it 
as a short cut4 ,the kindly farmer      
obviated this by putting up a little    
notice-board1 to indicate that the path 
was private4 ,a day or two afterwards it
 was removed and thrown into a ditch4 ,i
 was perturbed as well as surprised by  
this1 supposing that it showed that the 
notice had offended some local          
susceptibility2 and being very anxious  
to begin my tenure on neighbourly terms1
 ,i consulted my genial landlord1 who   
laughed1 and said that there was no one 

who would think of doing such a thing2  
and to reassure me he added that one of 
his men had seen the culprit at work1   
and that it was only an old horse1 who  
had rubbed himself against the post till
 he had thrown it down4  ,the days pass1
 then1 in a delightful monotony2 one    
reads1 writes1 sits or paces in the     
garden1 scours the country on still     
sunny afternoons4 ,there are many grand 
churches and houses within a reasonable 
distance1 such as the great churches    
near ,wisbech and ,lynn--,west ,walton1 
,walpole ,st4 ,peter1 ,tilney1          
,terrington ,st4 ,clement1 and a score  
of others--great cruciform structures1  
in every conceivable style1 with fine   
woodwork and noble towers1 each standing
 in the centre of a tiny rustic hamlet1 
built with no idea of prudent proportion
 to the needs of the places they serve1 
but out of pure joy and pride4 ,there   
are houses like ,beaupre1 a pile of     
fantastic brick1 haunted by innumerable 
phantoms1 with its stately orchard      

closes1 or the exquisite gables of      
,snore ,hall1 of rich ,tudor brickwork1 
with fine panelling within4 ,there is no
 lack of shrines for pilgrimage--then1  
too1 it is not difficult to persuade    
some like-minded friend to share one's  
solitude4 ,and so the quiet hours tick  
themselves away in an almost monastic   
calm1 while one's book grows insensibly 
day by day1 as the bulrush rises on the 
edge of the dyke4  ,i do not say that it
 would be a life to live for the whole  
of a year1 and year by year4 ,there is  
no stir1 no eagerness1 no brisk         
interchange of thought about it4 ,but   
for one who spends six months in a busy 
and peopled place1 full of duties and   
discussions and conflicting interests1  
it is like a green pasture and waters of
 comfort4 ,the danger of it1 if         
prolonged1 would be that things would   
grow languid1 listless1 fragrant like   
the ,lotos-eaters' ,isle2 small things  
would assume undue importance1 small    
decisions would seem unduly momentous2  

one would tend to regard one's own      
features as in a mirror and through a   
magnifying glass4 ,but1 on the other    
hand1 it is good1 because it restores   
another kind of proportion2 it is like  
dipping oneself in the seclusion of a   
monastic cell4 ,nowadays the image of   
the world1 with all its sheets of       
detailed news1 all its network of       
communications1 sets too deep a mark    
upon one's spirit4 ,we tend to believe  
that a man is lost unless he is         
overwhelmed with occupation1 unless1    
like the conjurer1 he is keeping a dozen
 balls in the air at once4 ,such a      
gymnastic teaches a man alertness1      
agility1 effectiveness4 ,but it has got 
to be proved that one was sent into the 
world to be effective1 and it is not    
even certain that a man has fulfilled   
the higher law of his being if he has   
made a large fortune by business4 ,a    
sagacious1 shrewd1 acute man of the     
world is sometimes a mere nuisance2 he  
has made his prosperous corner at the   

expense of others1 and he has only      
contrived to accumulate1 behind a little
 fence of his own1 what was meant to be 
the property of all4 ,i have known a    
good many successful men1 and ,i cannot 
honestly say that ,i think that they are
 generally the better for their success4
 ,they have often learnt                
self-confidence1 the shadow of which is 
a good-natured contempt for ineffective 
people2 the shadow1 on the other hand1  
which falls on the contemplative man is 
an undue diffidence1 an indolent        
depression1 a tendency to think that it 
does not very much matter what any one  
does4 ,but1 on the other hand1 the      
contemplative man sometimes does grasp  
one very important fact--that we are    
sent into the world1 most of us1 to     
learn something about ,god and          
ourselves2 whereas if we spend our lives
 in directing and commanding and        
consulting others1 we get so swollen a  
sense of our own importance1 our own    
adroitness1 our own effectiveness1 that 

we forget that we are tolerated rather  
than needed1 it is better on the whole  
to tarry the ,lord's leisure1 than to   
try impatiently to force the hand of    
,god1 and to make amends for ,his       
apparent slothfulness4 ,what really     
makes a nation grow1 and improve1 and   
progress1 is not social legislation and 
organisation4 ,that is only the sign of 
the rising moral temperature2 and a man 
who sets an example of soberness1 and   
kindliness1 and contentment is better   
than a pragmatical district visitor with
 a taste for rating meek persons4  ,it  
may be asked1 then1 do ,i set myself up 
as an example in this matter8 ,god      
forbid6 ,i live thus because ,i like it1
 and not from any philosophical or      
philanthropical standpoint4 ,but if more
 men were to follow their instincts in  
the matter1 instead of being misled and 
bewildered by the conventional view that
 attaches virtue to perspiration1 and   
national vigour to the multiplication of
 unnecessary business1 it would be a    

good thing for the community4 ,what ,i  
claim is that a species of mental and   
moral equilibrium is best attained by a 
careful proportion of activity and      
quietude4 ,what happens in the case of  
the majority of people is that they are 
so much occupied in the process of      
acquisition that they have no time to   
sort or dispose their stores2 and thus  
life1 which ought to be a thing complete
 in itself1 and ought to be spent1      
partly in gathering materials1 and      
partly in drawing inferences1 is apt to 
be a hurried accumulation lasting to the
 edge of the tomb4 ,we are put into the 
world1 ,i cannot help feeling1 to ,,be  
rather than to ,,do4 ,we excuse our     
thirst for action by pretending to      
ourselves that our own doing may        
minister to the being of others2 but all
 that it often effects is to inoculate  
others with the same restless and       
feverish bacteria4  ,and anyhow1 as ,i  
said1 it is but an experiment4 ,i can   
terminate it whenever ,i have the wish  

to do so4 ,even if it is a failure1 it  
will at all events have been an         
experiment1 and others may learn wisdom 
by my mistake2 because it must be borne 
in mind that a failure in a deliberate  
experiment in life is often more        
fruitful than a conventional success4   
,people as a rule are so cautious2 and  
it is of course highly disagreeable to  
run a risk1 and to pay the penalty4     
,life is too short1 one feels1 to risk  
making serious mistakes2 but1 on the    
other hand1 the cautious man often has  
the catastrophe1 without even having had
 the pleasure of a run for his money4   
,jowett1 the high priest of worldly     
wisdom1 laid down as a maxim1 ,never    
resign2 but ,i have found myself that   
there is no pleasure comparable to      
disentangling oneself from uncongenial  
surroundings1 unless it be the pleasure 
of making mild experiments and trying   
unconventional schemes4     ,,ii4       
,,contentment   ,i have attempted of    
late1 in more than one book1 to depict a

 certain kind of tranquil life1 a life  
of reflection rather than of action1 of 
contemplation rather than of business2  
and ,i have tried to do this from       
different points of view1 though the    
essence has been the same4 ,i           
endeavoured at first to do it           
anonymously1 because ,i have no desire  
to recommend these ideas as being my own
 theories4 ,the personal background     
rather detracts from than adds to the   
value of the thoughts1 because people   
can compare my theories with my         
practice1 and show how lamentably ,i    
fail to carry them out4 ,but time after 
time ,i have been pulled reluctantly out
 of my burrow1 by what ,i still consider
 a wholly misguided zeal for publicity1 
till ,i have decided that ,i will lurk  
no longer4 ,it was in this frame of mind
 that ,i published1 under my own name1 a
 book called ,beside ,still ,waters1 a  
harmless enough volume1 ,i thought1     
which was meant to be a deliberate      
summary or manifesto of these ideas4 ,it

 depicted a young man who1 after a      
reasonable experience of practical life1
 resolved to retire into the shade1 who 
in that position indulged profusely in  
leisurely reverie4 ,the book was        
carefully enough written1 and ,i have   
been a good deal surprised to find that 
it has met with considerable            
disapproval1 and even derision1 on the  
part of many reviewers4 ,it has been    
called morbid and indolent1 and         
decadent1 and half a hundred more ugly  
adjectives4 ,now ,i do not for an       
instant question the right of a single  
one of these conscientious persons to   
form whatever opinion they like about my
 book1 and to express it in any terms   
they like2 they say1 and obviously feel1
 that the thought of the book is        
essentially thin1 and that the vein in  
which it is written is offensively      
egotistical4 ,i do not dispute the      
possibility of their being perfectly    
right4 ,an artist who exhibits his      
paintings1 or a writer who publishes his

 books1 challenges the criticisms of the
 public2 and ,i am quite sure that the  
reviewers who frankly disliked my book1 
and said so plainly1 thought that they  
were doing their duty to the public1 and
 warning them against teaching which    
they believed to be insidious and even  
immoral4 ,i honour them for doing this1 
and ,i applaud them1 especially if they 
did violence to their own feelings of   
courtesy and urbanity in doing so4 ,then
 there were some good-natured reviewers 
who practically said that the book was  
simply a collection of amiable          
platitudes2 but that if the public liked
 to read such stuff1 they were quite at 
liberty to do so4 ,i admire these       
reviewers for a different reason1 partly
 for their tolerant permission to the   
public to read what they choose1 and    
still more because ,i like to think that
 there are so many intelligent people in
 the world who are wearisomely familiar 
with ideas which have only slowly and   
gradually dawned upon myself4 ,i have no

 intention of trying to refute or       
convince my critics1 and ,i beg them    
with all my heart to say what they think
 about my books1 because only by the    
frank interchange of ideas can we arrive
 at the truth4  ,but what ,i am going to
 try to do in this chapter is to examine
 the theory by virtue of which my book  
is condemned1 and ,i am going to try to 
give the fullest weight to the          
considerations urged against it4 ,i am  
sure there is something in what the     
critics say1 but ,i believe that where  
we differ is in this4 ,the critics who  
disapprove of my book seem to me to     
think that all men are cast in the same 
mould1 and that the principles which    
hold good for some necessarily hold good
 for all4 ,what ,i like best about their
 criticisms is that they are made in a  
spirit of moral earnestness and ethical 
seriousness4 ,i am a serious man myself1
 and ,i rejoice to see others serious4  
,the point of view which they seem to   
recommend is the point of view of a     

certain kind of practical strenuousness1
 the gospel of push1 if ,i may so call  
it4 ,they seem to hold that people ought
 to be discontented with what they are1 
that they ought to try to better        
themselves1 that they ought to be       
active1 and what they call normal2 that 
when they have done their work as       
energetically as possible1 they should  
amuse themselves energetically too1 take
 hard exercise1 shout and play1         
,pleased as the ,indian boy to run      
,and shoot his arrows in the sun1   and 
that then they should recreate          
themselves like ,homeric heroes1 eating 
and drinking1 listening comfortably to  
the minstrel1 and take their fill of    
love in a full-blooded way4  ,that is1  
,i think1 a very good theory of life for
 some people1 though ,i think it is a   
little barbarous2 it is ,spartan rather 
than ,athenian4  ,some of my critics    
take a higher kind of ground1 and say   
that ,i want to minimise and melt down  
the old stern beliefs and principles of 

morality into a kind of nebulous        
emotion4 ,they remind me a little of an 
old country squire of whom ,i have      
heard1 of the ,john ,bull type1 whose   
younger son1 a melancholy and           
sentimental youth1 joined the ,church of
 ,rome4 ,his father was determined that 
this should not separate them1 and asked
 him to come home and talk it over4 ,he 
told his eldest son that he was going to
 remonstrate with the erring youth in a 
simple and affectionate way4 ,the eldest
 son said that he hoped his father would
 do it tactfully and gently1 as his     
brother was highly sensitive1 to which  
his father replied that he had thought  
over what he meant to say1 and was going
 to be very reasonable4 ,the young man  
arrived1 and was ushered into the study 
by his eldest brother4 ,well1 said the  
squire1 very glad to see you1 ,harry2   
but do you mean to tell me that your    
mother's religion is not good enough for
 a damned ass like you8  ,now far from  
desiring to minimise faith in ,god and  

the ,unseen1 ,i think it is the thing of
 which the world is more in need than   
anything else4 ,what has made the path  
of faith a steep one to tread is partly 
that it has got terribly encumbered with
 ecclesiastical traditions2 it has been 
mended1 like the ,slough of ,despond1   
with cartloads of texts and insecure    
definitions4 ,and partly too the old    
simple undisturbed faith in the absolute
 truth and authority of the ,bible has  
given way4 ,it is admitted that the     
,bible contains a considerable admixture
 of the legendary element2 and it       
requires a strong intellectual and moral
 grip to build one's faith upon a       
collection of writings1 some of which1  
at all events1 are not now regarded as  
being historically and literally true4  
,if ,i cannot believe it all1 says the  
simple bewildered soul1 how can ,i be   
certain that any of it is indubitably   
true8 ,only the patient and desirous    
spirit can decide2 but whatever else    
fades1 the perfect insight1 the ,divine 

message of the ,son of ,man cannot fade2
 the dimmer that the historical setting 
becomes1 the brighter shine the parables
 and the sayings1 so far beyond the     
power of ,his followers to have         
originated1 so utterly satisfying to our
 deepest needs4 ,what ,i desire to say  
with all my heart is that we pilgrims   
need not be dismayed because the golden 
clue dips into darkness and mist2 it    
emerges as bright as ever upon the      
upward slope of the valley4 ,if one     
disregards all that is uncertain1 all   
that cannot be held to be securely      
proved in the sacred writings1 there    
still remain the essential facts of the 
,christian revelation1 and more deep and
 fruitful principles than a man can keep
 and make his own in the course of a    
lifetime1 however purely and faithfully 
he lives and strives4 ,to myself the    
doubtful matters are things absolutely  
immaterial1 like the debris of the mine1
 while the precious ore gleams and      
sparkles in every boulder4  ,what1 in   

effect1 these critics say is that a man 
must not discuss religion unless he is  
an expert in theology4 ,when ,i try1 as 
,i have once or twice tried1 to         
criticise some current conception of a  
,christian dogma1 the theological       
reviewer1 with a titter that resembles  
the titter of ,miss ,squeers in         
,nicholas ,nickleby1 says that a writer 
who presumes to discuss such questions  
ought to be better acquainted with the  
modern developments of theology4 ,to    
that ,i demur1 because ,i am not        
attempting to discuss theology1 but     
current conceptions of theology4 ,if the
 advance in theology has been so        
enormous1 then all ,i can say is that   
the theologians fail to bring home the  
knowledge of that progress to the man in
 the street4 ,to use a simple parable1  
what one feels about many modern        
theological statements is what the      
eloquent bagman said in praise of the   
,yorkshire ham3 ,before you know where  
you are1 there--it's wanished6 ,this is 

not so in science2 science advances1 and
 the ordinary man knows more or less    
what is going on2 he understands what is
 meant by the development of species1 he
 has an inkling of what radio-activity  
means1 and so forth2 but this is because
 science is making discoveries1 while   
theological discoveries are mainly of a 
liberal and negative kind1 a            
modification of old axioms1 a loosening 
of old definitions4 ,theology has made  
no discoveries about the nature of ,god1
 or the nature of the soul2 the problem 
of free will and necessity is as dark as
 ever1 except that scientific discovery 
tends to show more and more that an     
immutable law regulates the smallest    
details of life4 ,i honour1 with all my 
heart1 the critics who have approached  
the ,bible in the same spirit in which  
they approach other literature2 but the 
only definite result has been to make   
what was considered a matter of blind   
faith more a matter of opinion4 ,but to 
attempt to scare men away from          

discussing religious topics1 by saying  
that it is only a matter for experts1 is
 to act in the spirit of the            
,inquisition4 ,it is like saying to a   
man that he must not discuss questions  
of diet and exercise because he is not  
acquainted with the ,pharmacopoeia1 or  
that no one may argue on matters of     
current politics unless he is a trained 
historian4 ,religion is1 or ought to be1
 a matter of vital and daily concern for
 every one of us2 if our moral progress 
and our spiritual prospects are affected
 by what we believe1 theologians ought  
to be grateful to any one who will      
discuss religious ideas from the current
 point of view1 if it only leads them to
 clear up misconceptions that may       
prevail4 ,if ,i needed to justify myself
 further1 ,i would only add that since  
,i began to write on such subjects ,i   
have received a large number of letters 
from unknown people1 who seem to be     
grateful to any one who will attempt to 
speak frankly on these matters1 with the

 earnest desire1 which ,i can honestly  
say has never been absent from my mind1 
to elucidate and confirm a belief in    
simple and essential religious          
principles4  ,and now ,i would go on to 
say a few words as to the larger object 
which ,i have had in view4 ,my aim has  
been to show how it is possible for     
people living quiet and humdrum lives1  
without any opportunities of gratifying 
ambition or for taking a leading part on
 the stage of the world1 to make the    
most of simple conditions1 and to live  
lives of dignity and joy4 ,my own belief
 is that what is commonly called success
 has an insidious power of poisoning the
 clear springs of life2 because people  
who grow to depend upon the stimulus of 
success sink into dreariness and dulness
 when that stimulus is withdrawn4 ,here 
my critics have found fault with me for 
not being more strenuous1 more virile1  
more energetic4 ,it is strange to me    
that my object can have been so         
singularly misunderstood4 ,i believe1   

with all my heart1 that happiness       
depends upon strenuous energy2 but ,i   
think that this energy ought to be      
expended upon work1 and everyday life1  
and relations with others1 and the      
accessible pleasures of literature and  
art4 ,the gospel that ,i detest is the  
gospel of success1 the teaching that    
every one ought to be discontented with 
his setting1 that a man ought to get to 
the front1 clear a space round him1 eat1
 drink1 make love1 cry1 strive1 and     
fight4 ,it is all to be at the expense  
of feebler people4 ,that is a detestable
 ideal1 because it is the gospel of     
tyranny rather than the gospel of       
equality4 ,it is obvious1 too1 that such
 success depends upon a man being       
stronger than his fellows1 and is only  
made possible by shoving and hectoring1 
and bullying the weak4 ,the preaching of
 this violent gospel has done us already
 grievous harm2 it is this which has    
tended to depopulate country districts1 
to make people averse to discharging all

 honest subordinate tasks1 to make men  
and women overvalue excitement and      
amusement4 ,the result of it is the     
lowest kind of democratic sentiment1    
which says1 ,every one is as good as    
every one else1 and ,i am a little      
better1 and the jealous spirit1 which   
says1 ,if ,i cannot be prominent1 ,i    
will do my best that no one else shall  
be4 ,out of it develops the demon of    
municipal politics1 which makes a man   
strive for a place1 in the hope being   
able to order things for which others   
have to pay4 ,it is this teaching which 
makes power seem desirable for the sake 
of personal advantages1 and with no care
 for responsibility4 ,this spirit seems 
to me an utterly vile and detestable    
spirit4 ,it tends to disguise its rank  
individualism under a pretence of       
desiring to improve social conditions4  
,i do not mean for a moment to say that 
all social reformers are of this type2  
the clean-handed social reformer1 who   
desires no personal advantage1 and whose

 influence is a matter of anxious care1 
is one of the noblest of men2 but now   
that schemes of social reform are       
fashionable1 there are a number of      
blatant people who them for purposes of 
personal advancement4  ,what ,i rather  
desire is to encourage a very different 
kind of individualism1 the individualism
 of the man who realises that the hope  
of the race depends upon the quality of 
the life1 upon the number of people who 
live quiet1 active1 gentle1 kindly1     
faithful lives1 enjoying their work and 
turning for recreation to the nobler and
 simpler sources of pleasure--the love  
of nature1 poetry1 literature1 and art4 
,of course the difficulty is that we do 
not1 most of us1 find our pleasures in  
these latter things1 but in the         
excitement and amusement of social life4
 ,i mournfully admit it1 and ,i quite   
see the uselessness of trying to bring  
pleasures within the reach of people    
when they have no taste for them2 but an
 increasing number of people do care for

 such things1 and there are still more  
who would care for them1 if only they   
could be introduced to them at an       
impressionable age4  ,if it is said that
 this kind of simplicity is a very tame 
and spiritless thing1 ,i would answer   
that it has the advantage of being      
within the reach of all4 ,the reason why
 the pursuit of social advancement and  
success is so hollow1 is that the       
subordinate life is after all the life  
that must fall to the majority of       
people4 ,we cannot organise society on  
the lines of the army of a lesser       
,german state1 which consisted of       
twenty-four officers1 covered with      
military decorations1 and eight         
privates4 ,the successful men1 whatever 
happens1 must be a small minority2 and  
what ,i desire is that success1 as it is
 called1 should fall quietly and        
inevitably on the heads of those who    
deserve it1 while ordinary people should
 put it out of their thoughts4 ,it is no
 use holding up an ideal which cannot be

 attained1 and which the mere attempt to
 attain is fruitful in disaster and     
discontent4  ,i do not at all wish to   
teach a gospel of dulness4 ,i am of the 
opinion of the poet who said3           
,life is not life at all without        
delight1          ,nor hath it any      
might4   ,but ,i am quite sure that the 
real pleasures of the world are those   
which cannot be bought for money1 and   
which are wholly independent of success4
  ,every one who has watched children   
knows the extraordinary amount of       
pleasure that they can extract out of   
the simplest materials4 ,to keep a shop 
in the corner of a garden1 where the    
commodities are pebbles and             
thistle-heads stored in old tin pots1   
and which are paid for in daisies1 will 
be an engrossing occupation to healthy  
children for a long summer afternoon4   
,there is no reason why that kind of    
zest should not be imported into later  
life2 and1 as a matter of fact1 people  
who practise self-restraint1 who are    

temperate and quiet1 do retain a        
gracious kind of contentment in all that
 they do or say1 or think1 to extreme   
old age2 it is the jaded weariness of   
overstrained lives that needs the       
stimulus of excitement to carry them    
along from hour to hour4 ,who does not  
remember the rigid asceticism of        
,ruskin's childhood8 ,a bunch of keys to
 play with1 and a little later a box of 
bricks2 the ,bible and ,the ,pilgrim's  
,progress and ,robinson ,crusoe to read2
 a summary whipping if he fell down and 
hurt himself1 or if he ever cried4 ,yet 
no one would venture to say that this   
austerity in any way stunted ,ruskin's  
development or limited his range of     
pleasures2 it made him perhaps a little 
submissive and unadventurous4 ,but who  
that ever saw him1 as the most famous   
art-critic of the day1 being mercilessly
 snubbed1 when he indulged in paradoxes1
 by the old wine-merchant1 or being told
 to hold his tongue by the grim old     
mother1 and obeying cheerfully and      

sweetly1 would have preferred him to    
have been loud1 contradictory1 and      
self-assertive8 ,the mischief of our    
present system of publicity is that we  
cannot enjoy our own ideas1 unless we   
can impress people with them1 or1 at all
 events1 impress people with a sense of 
our enjoyment of them4 ,there is a noble
 piece of character-drawing in one of   
,mr4 ,henry ,james's novels1 ,the       
,portrait of a ,lady1 where ,gilbert    
,osmond1 a selfish dilettante1 finding  
that he cannot make a great success or  
attain a great position1 devotes himself
 to trying to mystify and provoke the   
curiosity of the world by retiring into 
a refined seclusion1 and professing that
 it affords him an exquisite kind of    
enjoyment4 ,the hideous vulgarity of his
 attitude is not at first sight         
apparent2 he deceives the heroine1 who  
is a considerable heiress1 into thinking
 that here1 at last1 is a man who is    
living a quiet and sincere life among   
the things of the soul2 and having      

obtained possession of her purse1 he    
sets up house in a dignified old palace 
in ,rome1 where he continues to amuse   
himself by inviting distinguished       
persons to visit him1 in order that he  
may have the pleasure of excluding the  
lesser people who would like to be      
included4  ,this is1 of course1 doing   
the thing upon an almost sublime scale2 
but the fact remains that in an age     
which values notoriety above everything 
except property1 a great many people do 
suffer from the disease of not enjoying 
things1 unless they are aware that      
others envy their enjoyment4 ,to people 
of an artistic temperament this is a    
sore temptation1 because the essence of 
the artistic temperament is its egotism1
 and egotism1 like the ,bread-and-butter
 fly1 requires a special nutriment1 the 
nutriment of external admiration4  ,and 
here1 ,i think1 lies one of the         
pernicious results of an over-developed 
system of athletics4 ,the more games    
that people play1 the better2 but ,i do 

not think it is wholesome to talk about 
them for large spaces of leisure time1  
any more than it is wholesome to talk   
about your work or your meals4 ,the     
result of all the talk about athletics  
is that the newspapers get full of them 
too4 ,that is only natural4 ,it is the  
business of newspapers to find out what 
interests people1 and to tell them about
 it2 but the bad side of it is that     
young athletes get introduced to the    
pleasures of publicity1 and that        
ambitious young men think that athletics
 are a short cut to fame4 ,to have      
played in a ,university eleven is like  
accepting a peerage2 you wear for the   
rest of your life an agreeable and      
honourable social label1 and ,i do not  
think that a peerage is deserved1 or    
should be accepted1 at the age of       
twenty4 ,i do not think it is a good    
kind of fame which depends on a personal
 performance rather than upon a man's   
usefulness to the human race4  ,the kind
 of contentment that ,i should like to  

see on the increase is the contentment  
of a man who works hard and enjoys work1
 both in itself and in the contrast it  
supplies to his leisure hours2 and1     
further1 whose leisure is full of varied
 interests1 not only definite pursuits1 
but an interest in his relations with   
others1 not only of a spectatorial kind1
 but with the natural and instinctive   
desire to contribute to their happiness1
 not in a priggish way1 but from a sense
 of cordial good-fellowship4  ,this     
programme may seem1 as ,i have said1 to 
be unambitious and prosaic1 and to have 
very little that is stirring about it4  
,but my belief is that it can be the    
most lively1 sensitive1 fruitful1 and   
enjoyable programme in the world1       
because the enjoyment of it depends upon
 the very stuff of life itself1 and not 
upon skimming the cream off and throwing
 away the milk4  ,my critics will say   
that ,i am only appearing again from my 
cellar1 with my hands filled with       
bottled platitudes2 but if they are     

platitudes1 by which ,i mean plain and  
obvious truths1 why do we not find more 
people practising them8 ,what ,i mean by
 a platitude is a truth so obvious that 
it is devoid of inspiration1 and has    
become one of the things that every one 
does so instinctively1 that no reminder 
of them is necessary4 ,would that it    
were so in the present case6 ,all ,i can
 say is that ,i know very few people who
 live their lives on these lines1 and   
that most of the people ,i know find    
inspiration anywhere but in the homely  
stuff of life4 ,of course there are a   
good many people who take life stolidly 
enough1 and do not desire inspiration at
 all2 but ,i do not mean that sort of   
life in the least4 ,i mean that it ought
 to be possible and delightful for      
people to live lives full of activity   
and perception and kindliness and joy1  
on very simple lines indeed2 to take up 
their work day by day with an agreeable 
sense of putting out their powers1 to   
find in the pageant of nature an        

infinite refreshment1 and to let art and
 poetry lift them up into a world of    
hopes and dreams and memories2 and thus 
life may become a meal to be eaten with 
appetite1 with a wholesome appreciation 
of its pleasant savours1 rather than a  
meal eaten in satiety or greediness1    
with a peevish repining that it is not  
more elaborate and delicate4  ,i do not 
claim to live my own life on these      
lines4 ,i started1 as all sensitive and 
pleasure-loving natures do1 with an     
expectation of finding life a much more 
exciting1 amusing1 and delightful thing 
than ,i have found it4 ,i desired to    
skip from peak to peak1 without         
troubling to descend into the valleys4  
,but now that ,i have descended1 partly 
out of curiosity and partly out of      
inefficiency1 no doubt1 into the        
low-lying vales1 ,i have found them to  
be beautiful and interesting places1 the
 hedgerows full of flower and leaf1 the 
thickets musical with the voices of     
birds1 the orchards loaded with fruit1  

the friendly homesteads rich with       
tranquil life and abounding in quiet    
friendly people2 and then the very peaks
 themselves1 past which my way          
occasionally conducts me1 have a        
beautiful solemnity of pure outline and 
strong upliftedness1 seen from below1   
which ,i think they tend to lose1 seen  
from the summit2 and if ,i have spoken  
of the quieter joys1 it is--,i can say  
this with perfect honesty--because ,i   
have been pleased with them1 as a bird  
is pleased with the sunshine and the    
berries1 and sings1 not that the        
passers-by may admire his notes1 but out
 of simple joy of heart2 and1 after all1
 it is enough justification1 if a       
pilgrim or two have stopped upon their  
way to listen with a smile4 ,that alone 
persuades me that one does no harm by   
speaking1 even if there are other       
passers-by who say what a tiresome note 
it is1 that they have heard it a hundred
 times before1 and cannot think why the 
stupid bird does not vary his song4     

,personally1 ,i would rather hear the   
yellow-hammer utter his sharp monotonous
 notes1 with the dropping cadence at the
 end1 than that he should try to imitate
 the nightingale4  ,however1 as ,i have 
said1 ,i am quite willing to believe    
that the critics speak1 or think they   
speak1 in the interests of the public1  
and with a tender concern that the      
public should not be bored4 ,and ,i will
 take my leave of them by saying1 like  
,miss ,flite1 that ,i will ask them to  
accept a blessing1 and that when ,i     
receive a judgment1 ,i shall confer     
estates impartially4  ,but my last word 
shall be to my readers1 and ,i will beg 
of them not to be deceived either by    
experts or by critics2 on the one hand1 
not to be frightened away from          
speculating and reflecting about the    
possible meanings of life by the people 
who say that no one under the degree of 
a ,bachelor of ,divinity has any right  
to tackle the matter2 and1 on the other 
hand1 ,i would implore them to believe  

that a quiet life is not necessarily a  
dull life1 and that the cutting off of  
alcohol does not necessarily mean a     
lowering of physical vitality2 but      
rather that if they will abstain for a  
little from dependence upon excitement1 
they will find their lives flooded by a 
new kind of quality1 which heightens    
perception and increases joy4 ,of course
 souls will ache and ail1 and we have to
 bear the burden of our ancestors'      
weaknesses as well as the burden of our 
own2 but just as1 in the physical       
region1 diet and exercise and regularity
 can effect more cures than the         
strongest medicines1 so1 in the life of 
the spirit1 self-restraint and          
deliberate limitation and tranquil      
patience will often lead into a vigorous
 and effective channel the stream that1 
left to itself1 welters and wanders     
among shapeless pools and melancholy    
marshes4     ,,iii4 ,,friendship   ,to  
make oneself beloved1 says an old       
,french proverb1 this is1 after all1 the

 best way to be useful4 ,that is one of 
the deep sayings which children think   
flat1 and which young men1 and even     
young women1 despise2 and which a       
middle-aged man hears with a certain    
troubled surprise1 and wonders if there 
is not something in it after all2 and   
which old people discover to be true1   
and think with a sad regret of          
opportunities missed1 and of years      
devoted1 how unprofitably1 to other     
kinds of usefulness6 ,the truth is that 
most of us who have any ambitions at    
all1 do not start in life with a hope of
 being useful1 but rather with an       
intention of being ornamental4 ,we      
think1 like joseph in his childish      
dreams1 that the sun and moon and the   
eleven stars1 to say nothing of the     
sheaves1 are going to make obeisance to 
us4 ,we want to be impressive1 rich1    
beautiful1 influential1 admired1 envied2
 and then1 as we move forward1 the      
visions fade4 ,we have to be content if1
 in a quiet corner1 a single sheaf gives

 us a nod of recognition2 and as for the
 eleven stars1 they seem unaware of our 
very existence6 ,and then we make       
further discoveries2 that when we have  
seemed to ourselves most impressive1 we 
have only been pretentious2 that riches 
are only a talisman against poverty1 and
 even make suffering and pain and grief 
more unendurable2 that beauty fades into
 stolidity or weariness2 that influence 
comes mostly to people who do not pursue
 it1 and that the best kind of influence
 belongs to those who do not even know  
that they possess it2 that admiration is
 but a brilliant husk1 which may or may 
not contain a wholesome kernel2 and as  
for envy1 there is poison in that cup6  
,and then we become aware that the best 
crowns have fallen to those who have not
 sought them1 and that simple-minded and
 unselfish people have won the prize    
which has been denied to brilliance and 
ambition4  ,that is the process which is
 often called disillusionment2 and it is
 a sad enough business for people who   

only look at one side of the medal1 and 
who brood over the fact that they have  
been disappointed and have failed4 ,for 
such as these1 there follow the faded   
years of cynicism and dreariness4 ,but  
that disillusionment1 that humiliation1 
are the freshest and most beautiful     
things in the world1 for people who have
 real generosity of spirit1 and whose   
vanity has been of a superficial kind2  
because they thus realise that these    
great gifts are real and true things1   
but that they must be deserved and not  
captured2 and then perhaps such people  
begin their life-work afresh1 in a      
humble and hopeful spirit2 and if it be 
too late for them to do what they might 
have once done1 they do not waste time  
in futile regret1 but are grateful for  
ever so little love and tenderness4     
,after all1 they have lived1 they have  
learnt by experience2 and it does not   
yet appear what we shall be4 ,somewhere1
 far hence--who knows8--we shall make a 
better start4  ,some philosophers have  

devoted time and thought to tracing     
backwards all our emotions to their     
primal origin2 and it is undoubtedly    
true that in the intensest and most     
passionate relationships of life--the   
love of a man for a woman1 or a mother  
for a child--there is a large admixture 
of something physical1 instinctive1 and 
primal4 ,but the fact also remains that 
there are unnumbered relationships      
between all sorts of apparently         
incongruous persons1 of which the basis 
is not physical desire1 or the          
protective instinct1 and is not built up
 upon any hope of gain or profit        
whatsoever4 ,all sorts of qualities may 
lend a hand to strengthen and increase  
and confirm these bonds2 but what lies  
at the base of all is simply a sort of  
vital congeniality4 ,the friend is the  
person whom one is in need of1 and by   
whom one is needed4 ,life is a sweeter1 
stronger1 fuller1 more gracious thing   
for the friend's existence1 whether he  
be near or far3 if the friend is close  

at hand1 that is best2 but if he is far 
away1 he is still there1 to think of1 to
 wonder about1 to hear from1 to write   
to1 to share life and experience with1  
to serve1 to honour1 to admire1 to love4
 ,but again it is a mistake to think    
that one makes a friend because of his  
or her qualities2 it has nothing to do  
with qualities at all4 ,if the friend   
has noble qualities1 we admire them     
because they are his2 if he has         
obviously bad and even noxious faults1  
how readily we condone them or overlook 
them6 ,it is the person that we want1   
not what he does or says1 or does not do
 or say1 but what he is3 that is        
eternally enough4  ,of course1 it does  
sometimes happen that we think we have  
made a friend1 and on closer            
acquaintance we find things in him that 
are alien to our very being2 but even   
so1 such a friendship often survives1 if
 we have given our heart1 or if         
affection has been bestowed upon        
us--affection which we cannot doubt4    

,some of the richest friendships of all 
are friendships between people whose    
whole view of life is sharply           
contrasted2 and then what blessed energy
 can be employed in defending one's     
friend1 in explaining him to other      
people1 in minimising faults1 in        
emphasising virtues6 ,while the thunder 
lasted1 says the old ,indian proverb1   
two bad men were friends4 ,that means   
that a common danger will sometimes draw
 even malevolent people together4 ,but1 
for most of us1 the only essential thing
 to friendship is a kind of mutual trust
 and confidence4 ,it does not even shake
 our faith to know that our friend may  
play other people false3 we feel by a   
kind of secret instinct that he will not
 play us false2 and even if it be proved
 incontestably that he has played us    
false1 why1 we believe that he will not 
do so again1 and we have all the        
pleasure of forgiveness4  ,who shall    
explain the extraordinary instinct that 
tells us1 perhaps after a single        

meeting1 that this or that particular   
person in some mysterious way matters to
 us8 ,the person in question may have no
 attractive gifts of intellect or manner
 or personal appearance2 but there is   
some strange bond between us2 we seem to
 have shared experience together1       
somehow and somewhere2 he is            
interesting1 whether he speaks or is    
silent1 whether he agrees or disagrees4 
,we feel that in some secret region he  
is congenial4 ,est mihi nescio quid quod
 me tibi temperat astrum1 says the old  
,latin poet--,there is something1 ,i    
know not what1 which yokes our fortunes1
 yours and mine4 ,sometimes indeed we   
are mistaken1 and the momentary nearness
 fades and grows cold4 ,but it is not   
often so4 ,that peculiar motion of the  
heart1 that secret joining of hands1 is 
based upon something deep and vital1    
some spiritual kinship1 some subtle     
likeness4  ,of course1 we differ vastly 
in our power of attracting and feeling  
attraction4 ,i confess that1 for myself1

 ,i never enter a new company without   
the hope that ,i may discover a friend1 
perhaps ,,the friend1 sitting there with
 an expectant smile4 ,that hope survives
 a thousand disappointments2 yet most of
 us tend to make fewer friends as time  
goes on1 partly because we have not so  
much emotional activity to spare1 partly
 because we become more cautious and    
discreet2 and partly1 too1 because we   
become more aware of the                
responsibilities which lie in the       
background of a friendship1 and because 
we tend to be more shy of               
responsibility4 ,some of us become less 
romantic and more comfortable2 some of  
us become more diffident about what we  
have to give in return2 some of us begin
 to feel that we cannot take up new     
ideas--none of them very good reasons   
perhaps2 but still1 for whatever reason1
 we make friends less easily4 ,the main 
reason probably is that we acquire a    
point of view1 and it is easier to keep 
to that1 and fit people in who          

accommodate themselves to it1 than to   
modify the point of view with reference 
to the new personalities4 ,people who   
deal with life generously and           
large-heartedly go on multiplying       
relationships to the end4  ,of course1  
as ,i have said1 there are infinite     
grades of friendship1 beginning with the
 friendship which is a mere camaraderie 
arising out of habit and proximity2 and 
every one ought to be capable of forming
 this last relationship4 ,the modest    
man1 said ,stevenson1 finds his         
friendships ready-made2 by which he     
meant that if one is generous1 tolerant1
 and ungrudging1 then1 instead of       
thinking the circle in which one lives  
inadequate1 confined1 and unsympathetic1
 one gets the best out of it1 and sees  
the lovable side of ordinary human      
beings4 ,such friendships as these can  
evoke perhaps the best and simplest kind
 of loyalty4 ,it is said that in        
countries where oxen are used for       
ploughing in double harness1 there are  

touching instances of an ox pining away1
 and even dying1 if he loses his        
accustomed yoke-fellow4 ,there are such 
human friendships1 sometimes formed on a
 blood relationship1 such as the        
friendship of a brother and a sister2   
and sometimes a marriage transforms     
itself into this kind of camaraderie1   
and is a very blessed1 quiet1 beautiful 
thing4  ,and then there are infinite    
gradations1 such as the friendships of  
old and young1 pupils and masters1      
parents and children1 nurses and        
nurslings1 employers and servants1 all  
of them in a way unequal friendships1   
but capable of evoking the deepest and  
purest kinds of devotion3 such famous   
friendships have been ,carlyle's        
devotion to his parents1 ,boswell's to  
,johnson1 ,stanley's to ,arnold2 till at
 last one comes to the typical and      
essential thing known specially as      
friendship--the passionate1 devoted1    
equal bond which exists between two     
people of the same age and sex2 many of 

which friendships are formed at school  
and college1 and which often fade away  
in a sort of cordial glow1 implying no  
particular communion of life and        
thought4 ,marriage is often the great   
divorcer of such friendships1 and       
circumstances generally1 which sever and
 estrange2 because1 unless there is a   
constant interchange of thought and     
ideas1 increasing age tends to emphasise
 differences4 ,but there are instances  
of men1 like ,newman and ,fitz,gerald1  
who kept up a sort of romantic quality  
of friendship to the end4  ,i remember  
the daughter of an old clergyman of my  
acquaintance telling me a pathetic and  
yet typical story of the end of one of  
these friendships4 ,her father and      
another elderly clergyman had been      
devoted friends in boyhood and youth4   
,circumstances led to a suspension of   
intercourse1 but at last1 after a gap of
 nearly thirty years1 during which the  
friends had not met1 it was arranged    
that the old comrade should come and    

stay at the vicarage4 ,as the time      
approached1 her father grew visibly     
anxious1 and coupled his frequent       
expression of the exquisite pleasure    
which the visit was going to bring him  
with elaborate arrangements as to which 
of his family should be responsible for 
the entertainment of the old comrade at 
every hour of the day3 the daughters    
were to lead him out walking in the     
morning1 his wife was to take him out   
drives in the afternoon1 and he was to  
share the smoking-room with a son1 who  
was at home1 in the evenings--the one   
object being that the old gentleman     
should not have to interrupt his own    
routine1 or bear the burden of          
entertaining a guest2 and he eventually 
contrived only to meet him at meals1    
when the two old friends did not appear 
to have anything particular to say to   
each other4 ,when the visit was over1   
her father used to allude to his guest  
with a half-compassionate air3 ,poor    
,harry1 he has aged terribly--,i never  

saw a man so changed1 with such a       
limited range of interests2 dear fellow1
 he has quite lost his old humour4      
,well1 well6 it was a great pleasure to 
see him here4 ,he was very anxious that 
we should go to stay with him1 but ,i am
 afraid that will be rather difficult to
 manage2 one is so much at a loose end  
in a strange house1 and then one's      
correspondence gets into arrears4 ,poor 
old ,harry6 ,what a lively creature he  
was up at ,trinity1 to be sure6 ,thus   
with a sigh dust is committed to dust4  
,what passions our friendships were6    
said ,thackeray to ,fitz,gerald1        
speaking of ,university days4 ,there is 
a shadow of melancholy in the saying1   
because it implies that for ,thackeray  
at all events that kind of glow had     
faded out of life4 ,perhaps--who        
knows8--he had accustomed himself1 with 
those luminous1 observant1 humorous     
eyes1 to look too deep into the heart of
 man1 to study too closely and too      
laughingly the seamy side1 the strange  

contrast between man's hopes and his    
performances1 his dreams and his deeds4 
,ought one to be ashamed if that kind of
 generous enthusiasm1 that intensity of 
admiration1 that vividness of sympathy  
die out of one's heart8 ,is it possible 
to keep alive the warmth1 the colour of 
youth1 suffusing all the objects near it
 with a lively and rosy glow8 ,some few 
people seem to find it possible1 and can
 add to it a kind of rich tolerance1 a  
lavish affectionateness1 which pierces  
even deeper1 and sees even more clearly1
 than the old partial idealisation4     
,such a large-hearted affection is found
 as a rule most often in people whose   
lives have brought them into intimate   
connection with their                   
fellow-creatures--in priests1 doctors1  
teachers1 who see others not in their   
guarded and superficial moments1 but in 
hours of sharp and poignant emotion4 ,in
 many cases the bounds of sympathy      
narrow themselves into the family and   
the home--because there only are men    

brought into an intimate connection with
 human emotion2 because to many people1 
and to the ,anglo-,saxon race in        
particular1 emotional situations are a  
strain1 and only professional duty1     
which is a strongly rooted instinct in  
the ,anglo-,saxon temperament1 keeps the
 emotional muscles agile and responsive4
  ,another thing which tends to         
extinguish friendships is that many of  
the people who desire to form them1 and 
who do form them1 wish to have the      
pleasures of friendship without the     
responsibilities4 ,in the               
self-abandonment of friendship we become
 aware of qualities and strains in the  
friend which we do not wholly like4 ,one
 of the most difficult things to        
tolerate in a friend are faults which   
are similar without being quite the     
same4 ,a common quality1 for instance1  
in the ,anglo-,saxon race1 is a touch of
 vulgarity1 which is indeed the quality 
that makes them practically successful4 
,a great many ,anglo-,saxon people have 

a certain snobbishness1 to give it a    
hard name2 it is probably the poison of 
the feudal system lurking in our veins4 
,we admire success unduly2 we like to be
 respected1 to have a definite label1 to
 know the right people4  ,i remember    
once seeing a friendship of a rather    
promising kind forming between two      
people1 one of whom had a touch of what 
,i may call county vulgarity1 by which  
,i mean an undue recognition of the     
glories of our birth and state4 ,it was 
a deep-seated fault1 and emerged in a   
form which is not uncommon among people 
of that type--namely1 a tendency to make
 friends with people of rank1 coupled   
with a constant desire to detect        
snobbishness in other people4 ,there is 
no surer sign of innate vulgarity than  
that2 it proceeds1 as a rule1 from a dim
 consciousness of the fault1 combined   
with the natural shame of a high-minded 
nature for being subject to it4 ,in this
 particular case the man in question    
sincerely desired to resist the fault1  

but he could not avoid making himself   
slightly more deferential1 and          
consequently slightly more agreeable1 to
 persons of position4 ,if he had not    
suffered from the fault1 he would never 
have given the matter a thought at all4 
,the other partner in the friendly      
enterprise had a touch of a different   
kind of snobbishness--the middle-class  
professional snobbishness1 which pays an
 undue regard to success1 and gravitates
 to effective and distinguished people4 
,as the friendship matured1 each became 
unpleasantly conscious of the other's   
defect1 while remaining unconscious of  
his own4 ,the result was a perpetual    
little friction on the point4 ,if both  
could have been perfectly sincere1 and  
could have confessed their weakness     
frankly1 no harm would have been done4  
,but each was so sincerely anxious to   
present an unblemished soul to the      
other's view1 that they could not arrive
 at an understanding on the point2 each 
desired to appear more disinterested    

than he was2 and so1 after coming       
together to a certain extent--both were 
fine natures--the presence of grit in   
the machinery made itself gradually     
felt1 and the friendship melted away4   
,it was a case of each desiring the     
unalloyed pleasure of an admiring       
friendship1 without accepting the       
responsibility of discovering that the  
other was not perfection1 and bearing   
that discovery loyally and generously4  
,for this is the worst of a friendship  
that begins in idealisation rather than 
in comradeship2 and this is the danger  
of all people who idealise4 ,when two   
such come together and feel a mutual    
attraction1 they display instinctively  
and unconsciously the best of           
themselves2 but melancholy discoveries  
supervene2 and then what generally      
happens is that the idealising friend is
 angry with the other for disappointing 
his hopes1 not with himself for drawing 
an extravagant picture4  ,such          
friendships have a sort of emotional    

sensuality about them2 and to be        
dismayed by later discoveries is to     
decline upon ,rousseau's vice of handing
 in his babies to the ,foundling        
,hospital1 instead of trying to bring   
them up honestly2 what lies at the base 
of it is the indolent shirking of the   
responsibilities for the natural        
consequences of friendship4 ,the mistake
 arises from a kind of selfishness1 the 
selfishness that thinks more of what it 
wants and desires to get1 than of taking
 what there is soberly and gratefully4  
,it is often said that it is the duty   
and privilege of a friend to warn his   
friend faithfully against his faults4 ,i
 believe that this is a wholly mistaken 
principle4 ,the essence of the situation
 is rather a cordial partnership1 of    
which the basis is liberty4 ,what ,i    
mean by liberty is not a freedom from   
responsibility1 but an absence of       
obligation4 ,i do not1 of course1 mean  
that one is to take all one can get and 
give as little as one likes1 but rather 

that one must respect one's friend      
enough--and that is implied in the      
establishment of the relation--to       
abstain from directing him1 unless he   
desires and asks for direction4 ,the    
telling of faults may be safely left to 
hostile critics1 and to what ,sheridan  
calls damned good-natured acquaintances4
 ,but the friend must take for granted  
that his friend desires1 in a general   
way1 what is good and true1 even though 
he may pursue it on different lines4    
,one's duty is to encourage and believe 
in one's friend1 not to disapprove of   
and to censure him4 ,one loves him for  
what he is1 not for what he might be if 
he would only take one's advice4 ,the   
point is that it must be all a free     
gift1 not a mutual improvement          
society--unless indeed that is the basis
 of the compact4 ,after all1 a man can  
only feel responsible to ,god4 ,one goes
 astray1 no doubt1 like a sheep that is 
lost2 but it is not the duty of another 
sheep to butt one back into the right   

way1 unless indeed one appeals for help4
 ,one may have pastors and directors1   
but they can never be equal friends4 ,if
 there is to be superiority in          
friendship1 the lesser must willingly   
crown the greater2 the greater must not 
ask to be crowned4 ,the secure          
friendship is that which begins in      
comradeship1 and moves into a more      
generous and emotional region4 ,then    
there is no need to demand or to        
question loyalty1 because the tie has   
been welded by many a simple deed1 many 
a frank word4 ,the ideal is a perfect   
frankness and sincerity1 which lays bare
 the soul as it is1 without any false   
shame or any fear of misunderstanding4  
,a friendship of this kind can be one of
 the purest1 brightest1 and strongest   
things in the world4 ,yet how rare it   
is6 ,what far oftener happens is that   
two people1 in a sensitive and emotional
 mood1 are brought together4 ,they begin
 by comparing experiences1 they search  
their memories for beautiful and        

suggestive things1 and each feels1 ,this
 nature is the true complement of my    
own2 what light it seems to shed on my  
own problems2 how subtle1 how           
appreciative it is6 ,then the process of
 discovery begins4 ,instead of the fair 
distant city1 all spires and towers1    
which we discerned in the distance in a 
sort of glory1 we find that there are   
crooked lanes1 muddy crossings1 dull    
market-places1 tiresome houses4 ,odd    
misshapen figures1 fretful and wearied1 
plod through the streets or look out at 
windows2 here is a ruin1 with doleful   
creatures moping in the shade2 we       
overturn a stone1 and blind uncanny     
things writhe away from the light4 ,we  
begin to reflect that it is after all   
much like other places1 and that our    
fine romantic view of it was due to some
 accident of light and colour1 some     
transfiguring mood of our own mind2 and 
then we set out in search of another    
city which we see crowning a hill on the
 horizon1 and leave the dull place to   

its own commonplace life4 ,but to begin 
with comradeship is to explore the      
streets and lanes first2 and then day by
 day1 as we go up and down in the town1 
we become aware of its picturesqueness  
and its charm2 we realise that it has an
 intense and eager life of its own1     
which we can share as a dweller1 though 
we cannot touch it as a visitor2 and so 
the wonder grows1 and the patient love  
of home4 ,and we have surprises1 too3 we
 enter a door in a wall that we have not
 seen before1 and we are in a shrine    
full of fragrant incense-smoke2 the     
fallen day comes richly through stained 
windows2 figures move at the altar1     
where some holy rite is being           
celebrated4 ,the truth is that a        
friendship cannot be formed in the      
spirit of a tourist1 who is above all in
 search of the romantic and the         
picturesque4 ,sometimes1 indeed1 the    
wandering traveller may become the      
patient and contented inhabitant2 but it
 is generally the other way1 and the    

best friendships are most often those   
that seem at first sight dully made for 
us by habit and proximity1 and which    
reveal to us by slow degrees their      
beauty and their worth4            99   
99        99        99        99        
99   ,thus far had ,i written1 when it  
came into my mind that ,i should like to
 see the reflection of my beliefs in    
some other mind1 to submit them to the  
test of what ,i may perhaps be forgiven 
for calling a spirit-level6 ,and so ,i  
read my essay to two wise1 kindly1 and  
gracious ladies1 who have themselves    
often indeed graduated in friendship1   
and taken the highest honours4 ,i will  
say nothing of the tender courtesy with 
which they made their head-breaking     
balms precious2 ,i told them that ,i had
 not finished my essay1 and that before 
,i launched upon my last antistrophe1 ,i
 wanted inspiration4 ,i cannot here put 
down the phrases they used1 but ,i felt 
that they spoke in symbols1 like two    
initiated persons1 for whom the corn and

 the wine and the oil of the sacrifice  
stand for very secret and beautiful     
mysteries2 but they said in effect that 
,i had been depicting1 and not untruly1 
the outer courts and corridors of       
friendship4 ,what they told me of the   
inner shrine ,i shall presently         
describe2 but when ,i asked them to say 
whether they could tell me instances of 
the best and highest kind of friendship1
 existing and increasing and perfecting 
itself between two men1 or between a man
 and a woman1 not lovers or wedded1 they
 found a great difficulty in doing so4  
,we sifted our common experiences of    
friendships1 and we could find but one  
or two such1 and these had somewhat lost
 their bloom4 ,it came then to this3    
that in the emotional region1 many      
women1 but very few men1 can form the   
highest kind of tie2 and we agreed that 
men tended to find what they needed in  
marriage1 because they were rather      
interested in than dependent upon       
personal emotion1 and because practical 

life1 as the years went on--the life of 
causes1 and movements1 and              
organisations1 and ideas1 and           
investigations--tended to absorb the    
energies of men2 and that they found    
their emotional life in home ties2 and  
that the man who lived for emotional    
relations would tend to be thought1 if  
not to be1 a sentimentalist2 but that   
the real secret lay with women1 and with
 men of perhaps a feminine fibre4 ,and  
all this was transfused by a kind of    
tender pity1 without any touch of       
complacency or superiority1 such as a   
mother might have for the whispered     
hopes of a child who is lost in tiny    
material dreams4 ,but ,i gathered that  
there was a region in which the heart   
could be entirely absorbed in a deep and
 beautiful admiration for some other    
soul1 and rejoice whole-heartedly in its
 nobleness and greatness2 so that no    
question of gaining anything1 or even of
 being helped to anything1 came in1 any 
more than one who has long been pent in 

shadow and gloom and illness1 and comes 
out for the first time into the sun1    
thinks of any benefits that he may      
receive from the caressing sunlight2 he 
merely knows that it is joy and         
happiness and life to be there1 and to  
feel the warm light comfort him and make
 him glad2 and all this ,i had no       
difficulty in understanding1 for ,i knew
 the emotion that they spoke of1 though 
,i called it by a different name4 ,i saw
 that it was love indeed1 but love      
infinitely purified1 and with all the   
sense of possession that mingles with   
masculine love subtracted from it2 and  
how such a relation might grow and      
increase1 until there arose a sort of   
secret and vital union of spirit1 more  
real indeed than time and space1 so     
that1 even if this were divorced and    
sundered by absence1 or the clouded     
mind1 or death itself1 there could be no
 shadow of doubt as to the permanence of
 the tie2 and a glance passed between   
the two as they spoke1 which made me    

feel like one who hears an organ        
rolling1 and voices rising in sweet     
harmonies inside some building1 locked  
and barred1 which he may not enter4 ,i  
could not doubt that the music was      
there1 while ,i knew that for some      
dulness or belatedness ,i was myself    
shut out2 not1 indeed1 that ,i doubted  
of the truth of what was said1 but ,i   
was in the position of the old saint who
 said that he believed1 and prayed to   
,one to help his unbelief4 ,for ,i saw  
that though ,i projected the lines of my
 own experience infinitely1 adding      
loyalty to loyalty1 and admiration to   
admiration1 it was all on a different   
plane4 ,this interfusion of personality1
 this vital union of soul1 ,i could not 
doubt it6 but it made me feel my own    
essential isolation still more deeply1  
as when the streaming sunlight strikes  
warmth and glow out of the fire1        
revealing crumbling ashes where a moment
 before had been a heart of flame4      
,ah te meae si partem animae rapit      

,maturior vis1 quid moror altera8--     
,ah1 if the violence of fate snatch thee
 from me1 thou half of my soul1 how can 
,i1 the other half1 still linger here8  
,so wrote the old cynical1 worldly1     
,latin poet of his friend--that poet    
whom1 for all his deftness and grace1 we
 are apt to accuse of a certain mundane 
heartlessness1 though once or twice     
there flickers up a sharp flame from the
 comfortable warmth of the pile4 ,had he
 the secret hidden in his heart all the 
time8 ,if one could dream of a nearness 
like that1 which doubts nothing1 and    
questions nothing1 but which teaches the
 soul to move in as unconscious a unison
 with another soul as one's two eyes    
move1 so that the brain cannot          
distinguish between the impressions of  
each1 would not that be worth the loss  
of all that we hold most sweet8 ,we pay 
a price for our qualities2 the thistle  
cannot become the vine1 or the oak the  
rose1 by admiration or desire4 ,but we  
need not doubt of the divine alchemy    

that gives good gifts to others1 and    
denies them to ourselves4 ,and thus ,i  
can gratefully own that there are indeed
 these high mysteries of friendship1 and
 ,i can be glad to discern them afar    
off1 as the dweller on the high         
moorland1 in the wind-swept farm1 can   
see1 far away in the woodland valley1   
the smoke go up from happy              
cottage-chimneys1 nestled in leaves1 and
 the spire point a hopeful finger up to 
heaven4 ,life would be a poorer thing if
 we had all that we desired1 and it is  
permitted to hope that if we are        
faithful with our few things1 we may be 
made rulers over many things6     ,,iv4 
,,humour   ,there is a pleasant story of
 a ,cambridge undergraduate finding it  
necessary to expound the four           
allegorical figures that crown the      
parapet of ,trinity ,library4 ,they are 
the ,learned ,muses1 as a matter of     
fact4 ,what are those figures1 ,jack8   
said an ardent sister1 labouring under  
the false feminine impression that men  

like explaining things4 ,those1 said    
,jack1 observing them for the first time
 in his life--those are ,faith1 ,hope1  
and ,charity1 of course4 ,oh6 but there 
are ,,four of them1 said the            
irrepressible fair one4 ,what is the    
other8 ,jack1 not to be dismayed1 gave a
 hasty glance2 and1 observing what may  
be called philosophical instruments in  
the hands of the statue1 said firmly1   
that is ,geography4 ,it made a charming 
quaternion4  ,i have often felt myself  
that the time has come to raise another 
figure to the hierarchy of ,christian   
,graces4 ,faith1 ,hope1 and ,charity1   
were sufficient in a more elementary and
 barbarous age2 but1 now that the world 
has broadened somewhat1 ,i think an     
addition to the trio is demanded4 ,a man
 may be faithful1 hopeful1 and          
charitable1 and yet leave much to be    
desired4 ,he may be useful1 no doubt1   
with that equipment1 but he may also be 
both tiresome1 and even absurd4 ,the    
fourth quality that ,i should like to   

see raised to the highest rank among    
,christian graces is the ,grace of      
,humour4  ,i do not think that ,humour  
has ever enjoyed its due repute in the  
ethical scale4 ,the possession of it    
saves a man from priggishness2 and the  
possession of faith1 hope1 and charity  
does not4 ,indeed1 not only do these    
three virtues not save a man from       
priggishness--they sometimes even plunge
 him in irreclaimable depths of         
superiority4 ,i suppose that when       
,christianity was first making itself   
felt in the world1 the one quality      
needful was a deep-seated and           
enthusiastic earnestness4 ,there is     
nothing that makes life so enjoyable as 
being in earnest4 ,it is not the light1 
laughter-loving1 jocose people who have 
the best time in the world4 ,they have a
 chequered career4 ,they skip at times  
upon the hills of merriment1 but they   
also descend gloomily at other times    
into the valleys of dreariness4 ,but the
 man who is in earnest is generally     

neither merry nor dreary4 ,he has not   
time to be either4 ,the early           
,christians1 engaged in leavening the   
world1 had no time for levity or        
listlessness4 ,a pioneer cannot be      
humorous4 ,but now that the world is    
leavened and ,christian principles are  
theoretically1 if not practically1 taken
 for granted1 a new range of qualities  
comes in sight4 ,by humour ,i do not    
mean a taste for irresponsible          
merriment2 for though humour is not a   
necessarily melancholy thing1 in this   
imperfect world the humorist sighs as   
often as he smiles4 ,what ,i mean by it 
is a keen perception of the rich        
incongruities and absurdities of life1  
its undue solemnity1 its guileless      
pretentiousness4 ,to be true humour1 it 
must not be at all a cynical thing--as  
soon as it becomes cynical1 it loses all
 its natural grace2 it is an essentially
 tender-hearted quality1 apt to find    
excuse1 ready to condone1 eager to      
forgive4 ,the possessor of it can never 

be ridiculous1 or heavy1 or superior4   
,wit1 of course1 is a very small        
province of humour3 wit is to humour    
what lightning is to the electric       
fluid--a vivid1 bright1 crackling       
symptom of it in certain conditions2 but
 a man may be deeply and essentially    
humorous1 and never say a witty thing in
 his life4 ,to be witty1 one has to be  
fanciful1 intellectual1 deft1           
light-hearted2 and the humorist need be 
none of these things4  ,in religion1 the
 absence of a due sense of humour has   
been the cause of some of our worst     
disasters4 ,all rational people know    
that what has done most to depress and  
discount religion is ecclesiasticism4   
,the spirit of ecclesiasticism is the   
spirit that confuses proportions1 that  
loves what is unimportant1 that hides   
great principles under minute rules1    
that sacrifices simplicity to           
complexity1 that adores dogma1 and      
definition1 and labels of every kind1   
that substitutes the letter for the     

spirit4 ,the greatest misfortune that   
can befall religion is that it should   
become logical1 that it should evolve a 
reasoned system from insufficient data2 
but humour abhors logic1 and cannot pin 
its faith on insecure deductions4 ,the  
heaviest burden which religion can have 
to bear is the burden of tradition1 and 
humour is the determined foe of         
everything that is conventional and     
traditional4 ,the ,pharisaical spirit   
loves precedent and authority2 the      
humorous spirit loves all that is swift 
and shifting and subversive and fresh4  
,one of the reasons why the orthodox    
heaven is so depressing a place is that 
there seems to be no room in it for     
laughter2 it is all harmony and         
meekness1 sanctified by nothing but the 
gravest of smiles4 ,what wonder that    
humanity is dejected at the thought of  
an existence from which all possibility 
of innocent absurdity and kindly mirth  
is subtracted--the only things which    
have persistently lightened and beguiled

 the earthly pilgrimage6 ,that is why   
the death of a humorous person has so   
deep an added tinge of melancholy about 
it1 because it is apt to seem indecorous
 to think of what was his most congenial
 and charming trait still finding scope 
for its exercise4 ,we are never likely  
to be able to tolerate the thought of   
,death1 while we continue to think of it
 as a thing which will rob humanity of  
some of its richest and most salient    
characteristics4  ,even the ghastly     
humour of ,milton is a shade better than
 this4 ,it will be remembered that he   
makes the archangel say to ,adam that   
astronomy has been made by the ,creator 
a complicated subject1 in order that the
 bewilderment of scientific men may be a
 matter of entertainment to ,him6       
,he ,his fabric of the ,heavens         
,hath left to their disputes1 perhaps to
 move      ,his laughter at their quaint
 opinions wide4   ,or1 again1 we may    
remember the harsh contortions of dry   
cachinnation indulged in by the rebel   

spirits1 when they have succeeded in    
toppling over with their artillery the  
armed hosts of ,seraphim4 ,milton       
certainly did not intend to subtract all
 humour from the celestial regions4 ,the
 only pity was that he had not himself  
emerged beyond the childish stage1 which
 finds its deepest amusement in the     
disasters and catastrophes of stately   
persons4  ,it may be asked whether we   
have any warrant in the ,gospel for the 
,christian exercise of humour4 ,i have  
no doubt of it myself4 ,the image of the
 children in the market-place who cannot
 get their peevish companions to join in
 games1 whether merry or mournful1 as   
illustrating the attitude of the        
,pharisees who blamed ,john the ,baptist
 for asceticism and ,christ for         
sociability1 is a touch of real humour2 
and the story of the importunate widow  
with the unjust judge1 who betrayed so  
naively his principle of judicial action
 by saying ,though ,i fear not ,god1    
neither regard men1 yet will ,i avenge  

this widow1 lest by her continual coming
 she weary me1 must--,i cannot believe  
otherwise--have been intended to provoke
 the hearers' mirth4 ,there is not1 of  
course1 any superabundance of such      
instances1 but ,christ's reporters were 
not likely to be on the look-out for    
sayings of this type4 ,yet ,i find it   
impossible to believe that ,one who     
touched all the stops of the human      
heart1 and whose stories are among the  
most beautiful and vivid things ever    
said in the world1 can have exercised   
,his unequalled power over human nature 
without allowing ,his hearers to be     
charmed by many humorous and incisive   
touches1 as well as by more poetical and
 emotional images4 ,no one has ever     
swayed the human mind in so unique a    
fashion1 without holding in his hand all
 the strings that move and stir the     
faculties of delighted apprehension2 and
 of these faculties humour is one of the
 foremost4 ,the amazing lightness of    
,christ's touch upon life1 the way in   

which ,his words plumbed the depths of  
personality1 make me feel abundantly    
sure that there was no dreary sense of  
overwhelming seriousness in ,his        
relations with ,his friends and         
disciples4 ,believing as we do that ,he 
was ,perfect ,man1 we surely cannot     
conceive of one of the sweetest and most
 enlivening of all human qualities as   
being foreign to ,his character4        
,otherwise there is little trace of     
humour in the ,new ,testament4 ,st4     
,paul1 one would think1 would have had  
little sympathy with humorists4 ,he was 
too fiery1 too militant1 too much       
preoccupied with the working out of his 
ideas1 to have the leisure or the       
inclination to take stock of humanity4  
,indeed ,i have sometimes thought that  
if he had had some touch of the quality1
 he might have given a different bias to
 the faith2 his application of the      
method which he had inherited from the  
,jewish school of theology1 coupled with
 his own fervid rhetoric1 was the first 

step1 ,i have often thought1 in         
disengaging the ,christian development  
from the simplicity and emotion of the  
first unclouded message1 in transferring
 the faith from the region of pure      
conduct and sweet tolerance into a      
province of fierce definition and       
intellectual interpretation4  ,i think  
it was ,goethe who said that ,greek was 
the sheath into which the dagger of the 
human mind fitted best2 and it is true  
that one finds among the ,greeks the    
brightest efflorescence of the human    
mind4 ,who shall account for that       
extraordinary and fragrant flower1 the  
flower of ,greek culture1 so perfect in 
curve and colour1 in proportion and     
scent1 opening so suddenly1 in such a   
strange isolation1 so long ago1 upon the
 human stock8 ,the ,greeks had the      
wonderful combination of childish zest  
side by side with mature taste2 charis1 
as they called it--a perfect charm1 an  
instinctive grace--was the mark of their
 spirit4 ,and we should naturally expect

 to find1 in their literature1 the same 
sublimation of humour that we find in   
their other qualities4 ,unfortunately   
the greater number of their comedies are
 lost4 ,of ,menander we have but a few  
tiny fragments1 as it were1 of a        
delectable vase2 but in ,aristophanes   
there is a delicious levity1 an         
incomparable prodigality of             
laughter-moving absurdities1 which has  
possibly never been equalled4 ,side by  
side with that is the tender and        
charming irony of ,plato1 who is even   
more humorous1 if less witty1 than      
,aristophanes4 ,but the ,greeks seem to 
have been alone in their application of 
humour to literature4 ,in the older     
world literature tended to be rather a  
serious1 pensive1 stately thing1        
concerned with human destiny and        
artistic beauty4 ,one searches in vain  
for humour in the energetic and ardent  
,roman mind4 ,their very comedies were  
mostly adaptations from the ,greek4 ,i  
have never myself been able to discern  

the humour of ,terence or ,plautus to   
any great extent4 ,the humour of the    
latter is of a brutal and harsh kind2   
and it has always been a marvel to me   
that ,luther said that the two books he 
would take to be his companions on a    
desert island would be ,plautus and the 
,bible4 ,horace and ,martial have a     
certain deft appreciation of human      
weakness1 but it is of the nature of    
smartness rather than of true           
humour--the wit of the satirist rather2 
and then the curtain falls on the older 
world4 ,when humour next makes its      
appearance1 in ,france and ,england     
pre-eminently1 we realise that we are in
 the presence of a far larger and finer 
quality2 and now we have1 so to speak1  
whole bins full of liquors1 of various  
brands and qualities1 from the mirthful 
absurdities of the ,english1 the pawky  
gravity of the ,scotch1 to the dry and  
sparkling beverage of the ,american4 ,to
 give an historical sketch of the growth
 and development of modern ,humour would

 be a task that might well claim the    
energies of some literary man2 it seems 
to me surprising that some ,german      
philosopher has not attempted a         
scientific classification of the        
subject4 ,it would perhaps be best done 
by a man without appreciation of humour1
 because only then could one hope to    
escape being at the mercy of            
preferences2 it would have to be studied
 purely as a phenomenon1 a symptom of   
the mind2 and nothing but an            
overwhelming love of classification     
would carry a student past the sense of 
its unimportance4 ,but here ,i would    
rather attempt not to find a formula or 
a definition for humour1 but to discover
 what it is1 like argon1 by eliminating 
other characteristics1 until the evasive
 quality alone remains4  ,it lies deep  
in nature4 ,the peevish mouth and the   
fallen eye of the plaice1 the helpless  
rotundity of the sunfish1 the mournful  
gape and rolling glance of the goldfish1
 the furious and ineffective mien of the

 barndoor fowl1 the wild grotesqueness  
of the babyroussa and the wart-hog1 the 
crafty solemn eye of the parrot1--if    
such things as these do not testify to a
 sense of humour in the ,creative       
,spirit1 it is hard to account for the  
fact that in man a perception is        
implanted which should find such sights 
pleasurably entertaining from infancy   
upwards4 ,i suppose the root of the     
matter is that1 insensibly comparing    
these facial attributes with the        
expression of humanity1 one credits the 
animals above described with the        
emotions which they do not necessarily  
feel2 yet even so it is hard to analyse1
 because grotesque exaggerations of     
human features1 which are perfectly     
normal and natural1 seem calculated to  
move the amusement of humanity quite    
instinctively4 ,a child is apt to be    
alarmed at first by what is grotesque1  
and1 when once reassured1 to find in it 
a matter of delight4 ,perhaps the       
mistake we make is to credit the        

,creative ,spirit with human emotions2  
but1 on the other hand1 it is difficult 
to see how complex emotions1 not        
connected with any material needs and   
impulses1 can be found existing in      
organisms1 unless the same emotions     
exist in the mind of their ,creator4 ,if
 the thrush bursts into song on the bare
 bush at evening1 if the child smiles to
 see the bulging hairy cactus1 there    
must be1 ,i think1 something joyful and 
smiling at the heart1 the inmost cell of
 nature1 loving beauty and laughter2    
indeed1 beauty and mirth must be the    
natural signs of health and content4    
,and then there strike in upon the mind 
two thoughts4 ,is1 perhaps1 the basis of
 humour a kind of selfish security8     
,does one primarily laugh at all that is
 odd1 grotesque1 broken1 ill at ease1   
fantastic1 because such things heighten 
the sense of one's own health and       
security8 ,i do not mean that this is   
the flower of modern humour2 but is it  
not1 perhaps1 the root8 ,is not the     

basis of laughter perhaps the purely    
childish and selfish impulse to delight1
 not in the sufferings of others1 but in
 the sense which all distorted things   
minister to one--that one is            
temporarily1 at least1 more blest than  
they8 ,a child does not laugh for pure  
happiness--when it is happiest1 it is   
most grave and solemn2 but when the     
sense of its health and soundness is    
brought home to it poignantly1 then it  
laughs aloud1 just as it laughs at the  
pleasant pain of being tickled1 because 
the tiny uneasiness throws into relief  
its sense of secure well-being4  ,and   
the further thought--a deep and strange 
one--is this3 ,we see how all mortal    
things have a certain curve or cycle of 
life--youth1 maturity1 age4 ,may not    
that law of being run deeper still8 we  
think of nature being ever strong1 ever 
young1 ever joyful2 but may not the very
 shadow of sorrow and suffering in the  
world be the sign that nature too grows 
old and weary8 ,may there have been a   

dim age1 far back beyond history or     
fable or scientific record1 when she1   
too1 was young and light-hearted8 ,the  
sorrows of the world are at present not 
like the sorrows of age1 but the sorrows
 of maturity4 ,there is no decrepitude  
in the world3 its heart is restless1    
vivid1 and hopeful yet2 its melancholy  
is as the melancholy of youth--a        
melancholy deeply tinged with beauty2 it
 is full of boundless visions and eager 
dreams2 though it is thwarted1 it       
believes in its ultimate triumph2 and   
the growth of humour in the world may be
 just the shadow of hard fact falling   
upon the generous vision1 for that is   
where humour resides2 youth believes    
glowingly that all things are possible1 
but maturity sees that to hope is not to
 execute1 and acquiesces smilingly in   
the incongruity between the programme   
and the performance4  ,humour resides in
 the perception of limitation1 in       
discerning how often the conventional   
principle is belied by the actual       

practice4 ,the old world was full of a  
youthful sense of its own importance2 it
 held that all things were created for  
man--that the flower was designed to    
yield him colour and fragrance1 that the
 beast of the earth was made to give him
 food and sport4 ,this philosophy was   
summed up in the phrase that man was the
 measure of all things2 but now we have 
learnt that man is but the most         
elaborate of created organisms1 and that
 just as there was a time when man did  
not exist1 so there may be a time to    
come when beings infinitely more        
elaborate may look back to man as we    
look back to trilobites--those strange  
creatures1 like huge wood-lice1 that    
were in their day the glory and crown of
 creation4 ,perhaps our dreams of       
supremacy and finality may be in reality
 the absurdest things in the world for  
their pomposity and pretentiousness4    
,who can say8  ,but to retrace our steps
 awhile4 ,it seems that the essence of  
humour is a certain perception of       

incongruity4 ,let us take a single      
instance4 ,there is a story of a drunken
 man who was observed to feel his way   
several times all round the railings of 
a ,london square1 with the intention    
apparently of finding some way of       
getting in4 ,at last he sat down1       
covered his face with his hands1 and    
burst into tears1 saying1 with deep     
pathos1 ,i am shut in6 ,in a sense it   
was true3 if the rest of the world was  
his prison1 and the garden of the square
 represented liberty1 he was undoubtedly
 incarcerated4 ,or1 again1 take the     
story of the ,scotchman returning from a
 convivial occasion1 who had jumped     
carefully over the shadows of the       
lamp-posts1 but on coming to the shadow 
of the church-tower1 ruefully took off  
his boots and stockings1 and turned his 
trousers up1 saying1 ,i'll ha'e to wade4
 ,the reason why the stories of drunken 
persons are often so indescribably      
humorous1 though1 no doubt1 highly      
deplorable in a ,christian country1 is  

that the victim loses all sense of      
probability and proportion1 and laments 
unduly over an altogether imaginary     
difficulty4 ,the appreciation of such   
situations is in reality the same as the
 common and barbarous form of humour1 of
 which we have already spoken1 which    
consists in being amused at the         
disasters which befall others4 ,the     
stage that is but slightly removed from 
the lowest stage is the theory of       
practical jokes1 the humour of which is 
the pleasure of observing the actions of
 a person in a disagreeable predicament 
which is not so serious as the victim   
supposes4 ,and thus we get to the region
 illustrated by the two stories ,i have 
told1 where the humour lies in the      
observation of one in a predicament that
 appears to be of a tragic character1   
when the tragic element is purely       
imaginary4 ,and so we pass into the     
region of intellectual humour1 which may
 be roughly illustrated by such sayings 
as that of ,george ,sand that nothing is

 such a restorative as rhetoric1 or the 
claim advanced by a patriot that        
,shakespeare was undoubtedly a          
,scotchman1 on the ground that his      
talents would justify the supposition4  
,the humour of ,george ,sand's epigram  
depends upon the perception that        
rhetoric1 which ought to be based upon a
 profound conviction1 an overwhelming   
passion1 an intense enthusiasm1 is often
 little more than the abandonment of a  
personality to a mood of intoxicating   
ebullience2 while the humour of the     
,shakespeare story lies in a sense of   
the way in which a national predilection
 will override all reasonable evidence4 
,it will be recognised how much of our  
humour depends upon our keen perception 
of the weaknesses and imperfections of  
other nationalities4 ,a great statesman 
once said that if a ,scotchman applied  
for a post and was unsuccessful1 his one
 object became to secure the post for   
another ,scotchman2 while if an         
,irishman made an unsuccessful          

application1 his only aim was to prevent
 any other ,irishman from obtaining the 
post4 ,that is a humorous way of        
contrasting the jealous patriotism of   
the ,scot with the passionate           
individualism of the ,celt4 ,the curious
 factor of this species of humour is    
that we are entirely unable to recognise
 the typicality of the caricatures which
 other nations draw of ourselves4 ,a    
,german fails to recognise the ,english 
idea of the ,german as a man who1 after 
a meal of gigantic proportions and      
incredible potations1 among the smoke of
 endless cigars1 will discuss the       
terminology of the absolute1 and burst  
into tears over a verse of poetry or a  
strain of music4 ,similarly the         
,englishman cannot divine what is meant 
by the ,englishman of the ,french stage1
 with his long whiskers1 his stiff      
pepper-and-salt clothes1 walking        
arm-in-arm with a raw-boned wife1       
short-skirted and long-toothed1 with a  
bevy of short-skirted and long-toothed  

daughters walking behind4  ,but if it   
requires a robust humorist to perceive  
the absurdity of his own nation1 what   
intensity of humour is required for a   
man to see the absurdity of himself6 ,to
 acquiesce in appearing ridiculous is   
the height of philosophy4 ,we are glad  
enough to amuse other people            
intentionally1 but how many men does one
 know who do not resent amusing other   
people unintentionally8 ,yet if one were
 a true philanthropist1 how delighted we
 ought to be to afford to others a      
constant feast of innocent and joyful   
contemplation4  ,but the fact which     
emerges from all these considerations is
 the fact that we do not give humour its
 place of due dignity in the moral and  
emotional scale4 ,the truth is that we  
in ,england have fallen into a certain  
groove of humour of late1 the humour of 
paradox4 ,the formula which lies at the 
base of our present output of humour is 
the formula1 ,whatever is1 is wrong4    
,the method has been over-organised1 and

 the result is that humour can be       
manufactured in unlimited quantities4   
,the type of such humour is the saying  
of the humorist that he went about the  
world with one dread constantly hanging 
over him--the dread of not being        
misunderstood4 ,i would not for a moment
 deny the quality of such humour1 but it
 grows vapid and monotonous4 ,it is     
painful to observe the clever young man 
of the present day1 instead of aiming at
 the expression of things beautiful and 
emotional1 which he is often well       
equipped to produce1 with all the charm 
of freshness and indiscretion1 turn     
aside to smart writing of a cynical     
type1 because he cannot bear to be      
thought immature4 ,he wants to see the  
effect of his cleverness1 and the       
envious smile of the slower-witted is   
dearer to him than the secret kindling  
of a sympathetic mind4 ,real humour is a
 broader and a deeper thing1 and it can 
hardly be attained until a man has had  
some acquaintance with the larger world2

 and that very experience1 in natures   
that are emotional rather than patient1 
often tends to extinguish humour1       
because of the knowledge that life is   
really rather too sad and serious a     
business to afford amusement4 ,the man  
who becomes a humorist is the man who   
contrives to retain a certain childlike 
zest and freshness of mind side by side 
with a large and tender tolerance4 ,this
 state of mind is not one to be         
diligently sought after4 ,the humorist  
nascitur non fit4 ,one sees young men of
 irresponsible levity drawn into the    
interest of a cause or a profession1 and
 we say sadly of them that they have    
lost their sense of humour4 ,they are   
probably both happier and more useful   
for having lost it4 ,the humorist is    
seldom an apostle or a leader4 ,but one 
does occasionally find a man of real    
genius who adds to a deep and vital     
seriousness a delightful perception of  
the superficial absurdities of life2 who
 is like a river1 at once strong and    

silent beneath1 with sunny ripples and  
bright water-breaks upon the surface4   
,most men must be content to flow turbid
 and sullen1 turning the mills of life  
or bearing its barges2 others may dash  
and flicker through existence1 like a   
shallow stream4 ,perhaps1 indeed1 it may
 be said that to be a real humorist     
there must be a touch of hardness       
somewhere1 a bony carapace1 because we  
seldom see one of very strong and ardent
 emotions who is a true humorist2 and   
this is1 ,i suppose1 the reason why     
women1 as a rule1 are so far less       
humorous than men4 ,we have to pay a    
price for our good qualities2 and though
 ,i had rather be strong1 affectionate1 
loyal1 noble-minded1 than be the best   
humorist in the world1 yet if a gift of 
humour be added to these graces1 you    
have a combination that is absolutely   
irresistible1 because you have a perfect
 sense of proportion that never allows  
emotion to degenerate into gush1 or     
virtue into rigidity2 and thus ,i say   

that humour is a kind of divine and     
crowning grace in a character1 because  
it means an artistic sense of           
proportion1 a true and vital tolerance1 
a power of infinite forgiveness4     ,v4
 ,,travel   ,there are many motives that
 impel us to travel1 to change our sky1 
as ,horace calls it--good motives and   
bad1 selfish and unselfish1 noble and   
ignoble4 ,with some people it is pure   
restlessness2 the tedium of ordinary    
life weighs on them1 and travel1 they   
think1 will distract them2 people travel
 for the sake of health1 or for business
 reasons1 or to accompany some one else1
 or because other people travel4 ,and   
these motives are neither good nor bad1 
they are simply sufficient4 ,some people
 travel to enlarge their minds1 or to   
write a book2 and the worst of          
travelling for such reasons is that it  
so often implants in the traveller1 when
 he returns1 a desperate desire to      
enlarge other people's minds too4       
,unhappily1 it needs an extraordinary   

gift of vivid description and a tactful 
art of selection to make the reflections
 of one's travels interesting to other  
people4 ,it is a great misfortune for   
biographers that there are abundance of 
people who are stirred1 partly by       
unwonted leisure and partly by awakened 
interest1 to keep a diary only when they
 are abroad4 ,these extracts from       
diaries of foreign travel1 which        
generally pour their muddy stream into a
 biography on the threshold of the      
hero's manhood1 are things to be        
resolutely skipped4 ,what one desires in
 a biography is to see the ordinary     
texture of a man's life1 an account of  
his working days1 his normal hours2 and 
to most people the normal current of    
their lives appears so commonplace and  
uninteresting that they keep no record  
of it2 while they often keep an         
elaborate record of their impressions of
 foreign travel1 which are generally    
superficial and picturesque1 and        
remarkably like the impressions of all  

other intelligent people4 ,a friend of  
mine returned the other day from an     
,american tour1 and told me that he     
received a severe rebuke1 out of the    
mouth of a babe1 which cured him of     
expatiating on his experiences4 ,he     
lunched with his brother soon after his 
return1 and was holding forth with a    
consciousness of brilliant descriptive  
emphasis1 when his eldest nephew1 aged  
eight1 towards the end of the meal1 laid
 down his spoon and fork1 and said      
piteously to his mother1 ,mummy1 ,i     
,,must talk2 it does make me so tired to
 hear ,uncle going on like that4 ,a     
still more effective rebuke was         
administered by a clever lady of my     
acquaintance to a cousin of hers1 a     
young lady who had just returned from   
,india1 and was very full of her        
experiences4 ,the cousin had devoted    
herself during breakfast to giving a    
lively description of social life in    
,india1 and was preparing to spend the  
morning in continuing her lecture1 when 

the elder lady slipped out of the room1 
and returned with some sermon-paper1 a  
blotting-book1 and a pen4 ,maud1 she    
said1 this is too good to be lost3 you  
must write it all down1 every word6 ,the
 projected manuscript did not come to   
very much1 but the lesson was not thrown
 away4  ,perhaps1 for most people1 the  
best results of travel are that they    
return with a sense of grateful security
 to the familiar scene3 the monotonous  
current of life has been enlivened1 the 
old relationships have gained a new     
value1 the old gossip is taken up with a
 comfortable zest2 the old rooms are the
 best1 after all2 the homely language is
 better than the outlandish tongue2 it  
is a comfort to have done with squeezing
 the sponge and cramming the trunk3 it  
is good to be at home4  ,but to people  
of more cultivated and intellectual     
tastes there is an abundance of good    
reasons for the pursuit of impressions4 
,it is worth a little fatigue to see the
 spring sun lie softly upon the         

unfamiliar foliage1 to see the delicate 
tints of the purple-flowered            
,judas-tree1 the bright colours of      
,southern houses1 the old               
high-shouldered chateau blinking among  
its wooded parterres2 it is pleasant to 
see mysterious rites conducted at       
tabernacled altars1 under dark arches1  
and to smell the thick1 strong1         
stupefying incense-smoke2 to see        
well-known pictures in their native     
setting1 to hear the warm waves of the  
canal lapping on palace-stairs1 with the
 exquisite moulded cornice overhead4 ,it
 gives one a strange thrill to stand in 
places rich with dim associations1 to   
stand by the tombs of heroes and saints1
 to see the scenes made familiar by art 
or history1 the homes of famous men4    
,such travel is full of weariness and   
disappointment4 ,the place one had      
desired half a lifetime to behold turns 
out to be much like other places1 devoid
 of inspiration4 ,a tiresome companion  
casts dreariness as from an inky cloud  

upon the mind4 ,do ,i not remember      
visiting the ,palatine with a friend    
bursting with archaeological            
information1 who led us from room to    
room1 and identified all by means of a  
folding plan1 to find at the conclusion 
that he had begun at the wrong end1 and 
that even the central room was not      
identified correctly1 because the number
 of rooms was even1 and not odd8  ,but1 
for all that1 there come blessed        
unutterable moments1 when the mood and  
the scene and the companion are all     
attuned in a soft harmony4 ,such moments
 come back to me as ,i write4 ,i see the
 mouldering brickwork of a crumbling    
tomb all overgrown with grasses and     
snapdragons1 far out in the ,campagna2  
or feel the plunge of the boat through  
the reed-beds of the ,anapo1 as we slid 
into the silent pool of blue water in   
the heart of the marsh1 where the sand  
danced at the bottom1 and the springs   
bubbled up1 while a great bittern flew  
booming away from a reedy pool hard by4 

,such things are worth paying a heavy   
price for1 because they bring a sort of 
aerial distance into the mind1 they     
touch the spirit with a hope that the   
desire for beauty and perfection is not1
 after all1 wholly unrealisable1 but    
that there is a sort of treasure to be  
found even upon earth1 if one diligently
 goes in search of it4  ,of one thing1  
however1 ,i am quite certain1 and that  
is that travel should not be a feverish 
garnering of impressions1 but a         
delicious and leisurely plunge into a   
different atmosphere4 ,it is better to  
visit few places1 and to become at home 
in each1 than to race from place to     
place1 guide-book in hand4 ,a beautiful 
scene does not yield up its secrets to  
the eye of the collector4 ,what one     
wants is not definite impressions but   
indefinite influences4 ,it is of little 
use to enter a church1 unless one tries 
to worship there1 because the essence of
 the place is worship1 and only through 
worship can the secret of the shrine be 

apprehended4 ,it is of little use to    
survey a landscape1 unless one has an   
overpowering desire to spend the        
remainder of one's days there2 because  
it is the life of the place1 and not the
 sight of it1 in which one desires to   
have a part4 ,above all1 one must not   
let one's memories sleep as in a dusty  
lumber-room of the mind4 ,in a quiet    
firelit hour one must draw near1 and    
scrutinise them afresh1 and ask oneself 
what remains4 ,as ,i write1 ,i open the 
door of my treasury and look round4     
,what comes up before me8 ,i see an     
opalescent sky1 and the great soft blue 
rollers of a sapphire sea4 ,i am        
journeying1 it seems1 in no mortal boat1
 though it was a commonplace vessel     
enough at the time1 twenty years ago1   
and singularly destitute of bodily      
provision4 ,what is that over the sea's 
rim1 where the tremulous1 shifting1 blue
 line of billows shimmers and           
fluctuates8 ,a long1 low promontory1 and
 in the centre1 over white clustered    

houses and masts of shipping1 rises a   
white dome like the shrine of some      
celestial city4 ,that is ,cadiz for me4 
,i dare say the picture is all wrong1   
and ,i shall be told that ,cadiz has a  
tower and is full of factory chimneys2  
but for me the dome1 ghostly white1     
rises as though moulded out of a single 
pearl1 upon the shifting edges of the   
haze4 ,whatever ,i have seen in my life1
 that at least is immortal4  ,or again  
the scene shifts1 and now ,i stumble to 
the deck of another little steamer1 very
 insufficiently habited1 in the sharp   
freshness of the dawn of a spring       
morning4 ,the waves are different       
here--not the great steely league-long  
rollers of the ,atlantic1 but the sharp 
azure waves1 marching in rhythmic order1
 of the ,mediterranean2 what is the     
land1 with grassy downs and folded      
valleys falling to grey cliffs1 upon    
which the brisk waves whiten and leap8  
,that is ,sicily2 and the thought of    
,theocritus1 with the shepherd-boy      

singing light-heartedly upon the        
headland a song of sweet days and little
 eager joys1 comes into my heart like   
wine1 and brings a sharp touch of tears 
into the eyes4 ,theocritus6 ,how little 
,i thought1 as ,i read the ugly brown   
volume with its yellow paper1 in the    
dusty schoolroom at ,eton ten years     
before1 that it was going to mean that  
to me1 sweetly as even then1 in a moment
 torn from the noisy tide of schoolboy  
life1 came the pretty echoes of the song
 into a little fanciful and restless    
mind6 ,but now1 as ,i saw those deserted
 limestone crags1 that endless          
sheep-wold1 with no sign of a           
habitation1 rising and falling far into 
the distance1 with the fresh sea-breeze 
upon my cheek--there came upon me that  
tender sorrow for all the beautiful days
 that are dead1 the days when the       
shepherds walked together1 exulting in  
youth and warmth and good-fellowship and
 song1 to the village festival1 and met 
the wandering minstrel1 with his coat of

 skin and his kind1 ironical smile1 who 
gave them1 after their halting lays1 a  
touch of the old true melody from a     
master's hand4 ,what do all those old   
and sweet dreams mean for me1 the       
sunlight that breaks on the stream of   
human souls1 flowing all together1 alike
 through dark rocks where the water     
chafes and thunders1 and spreading out  
into tranquil shining reaches1 where the
 herons stand half asleep8 ,what does   
that strange drift of kindred spirits1  
moving from the unknown to the unknown1 
mean for me8 ,i only know that it brings
 into my mind a strange yearning1 and a 
desire of almost unearthly sweetness for
 all that is delicate and beautiful and 
full of charm1 together with a sombre   
pity for the falling mist of tears1 the 
hard discipline of the world1 the cries 
of anguish1 as life lapses from the     
steep into the silent tide of death4    
,or1 again1 ,i seem once more to sit in 
the balcony of a house that looks out   
towards ,vesuvius4 ,it is late2 the sky 

is clouded1 the air is still2 a grateful
 coolness comes up from acre after acre 
of gardens climbing the steep slope2 a  
fluttering breeze1 that seems to have   
lost his way in the dusk1 comes timidly 
and whimsically past1 like ,ariel1      
singing as soft as a far-off falling sea
 in the great pine overhead1 making a   
little sudden flutter in the dry leaves 
of the thick creeper2 like ,ariel comes 
that dainty spirit of the air1 laden    
with balmy scents and cool dew4 ,a few  
lights twinkle in the plain below4      
,opposite1 the sky has an added         
blackness1 an impenetrability of shade2 
but what is the strange red eye of light
 that hangs between earth and heaven8   
,and1 stranger still1 what is that      
phantasmal gleam of a lip of crags high 
in the air1 and that mysterious1 moving1
 shifting light1 like a pale flame1     
above it8 ,the gloomy spot is a rent in 
the side of ,vesuvius where the         
smouldering heat has burnt through the  
crust1 and where a day or two before ,i 

saw a viscid stream of molten liquor1   
with the flames playing over it1        
creeping1 creeping through the tunnelled
 ashes2 and in the light above is the   
lip of ,vesuvius itself1 with its       
restless furnace at work1 casting up a  
billowy swell of white oily smoke1 while
 the glare of the fiery pit lights up   
the underside of the rising vapours4 ,a 
ghastly manifestation1 that1 of         
sleepless and stern forces1 ever at work
 upon some eternal and bewildering task2
 and yet so strangely made am ,i1 that  
these fierce signal-fires1 seen afar1   
but blend with the scents of the musky  
alleys for me into a thrill of          
unutterable wonder4  ,there are hundreds
 of such pictures stored in my mind1    
each stamped upon some sensitive        
particle of the brain1 that cannot be   
obliterated1 and each of which the mind 
can recall at will4 ,and that1 too1 is a
 fact of surpassing wonder3 what is the 
delicate instrument that registers1 with
 no seeming volition1 these amazing     

pictures1 and preserves them thus with  
so fantastic a care1 retouching them1   
fashioning them anew1 detaching from the
 picture every sordid detail1 till each 
is as a lyric1 inexpressible1 exquisite1
 too fine for words to touch8  ,now it  
is useless to dictate to others the aims
 and methods of travel3 each must follow
 his own taste4 ,to myself the          
acquisition of knowledge and information
 is in these matters an entirely        
negligible thing4 ,to me the one and    
supreme object is the gathering of a    
gallery of pictures2 and yet that is not
 a definite object either1 for the      
whimsical and stubborn spirit refuses to
 be bound by any regulations in the     
matter4 ,it will garner up with the most
 poignant care a single vignette1 a tiny
 detail4 ,i see1 as ,i write1 the vision
 of a great golden-grey carp swimming   
lazily in the clear pool of ,arethusa1  
the carpet of mesembryanthemum that1 for
 some fancy of its own1 chose to involve
 the whole of a railway viaduct with its

 flaunting magenta flowers and its      
fleshy leaves4 ,i see the edge of the   
sea1 near ,syracuse1 rimmed with a line 
of the intensest yellow1 and ,i hear the
 voice of a guide explaining that it was
 caused by the breaking up of a stranded
 orange-boat1 so that the waves for many
 hundred yards threw up on the beach a  
wrack of fruit2 yet the same wilful and 
perverse mind will stand impenetrably   
dumb and blind before the noblest and   
sweetest prospect1 and decline to       
receive any impression at all4 ,what is 
perhaps the oddest characteristic of the
 tricksy spirit is that it often chooses
 moments of intense discomfort and      
fatigue to master some scene1 and take  
its indelible picture4 ,i suppose that  
the reason of this is that the mind     
makes1 at such moments1 a vigorous      
effort to protest against the tyranny of
 the vile body1 and to distract itself  
from instant cares4  ,but another man   
may travel for archaeological or even   
statistical reasons4 ,he may wish1 like 

,ulysses1 to study manners1 councils1   
customs1 governments4 ,he may be        
preoccupied with questions of           
architectural style or periods of       
sculpture4 ,i have a friend who takes up
 at intervals the study of the pictures 
of a particular master1 and will take   
endless trouble and undergo incredible  
discomfort1 in order to see the vilest  
daubs1 if only he can make his list     
complete1 and say that he has seen all  
the reputed works of the master4 ,this  
instinct is1 ,i believe1 nothing but the
 survival of the childish instinct for  
collecting1 and though ,i can           
reluctantly admire any man who spares no
 trouble to gain an end1 the motive is  
dark and unintelligible to me4  ,there  
are some travellers1 like ,dean         
,stanley1 who drift from the            
appreciation of natural scenery into the
 pursuit of historical associations4    
,the story of ,stanley as a boy1 when he
 had his first sight of the snowy ,alps 
on the horizon1 always delights me4 ,he 

danced about saying1 ,oh1 what shall ,i 
do1 what shall ,i do8 ,but1 in later    
days1 ,stanley would not go a mile to   
see a view1 while he would travel all   
night to see a few stones of a ruin1    
jutting out of a farmyard wall1 if only 
there was some human and historical     
tradition connected with the place4 ,i  
do not myself understand that4 ,i should
 not wish to see ,etna merely because   
,empedocles is supposed to have jumped  
down the crater1 nor the site of        
,jericho because the walls fell down at 
the trumpets of the host4 ,the only     
interest to me in an historical scene is
 that it should be in such a condition  
as that one can to a certain extent     
reconstruct the original drama1 and be  
sure that one's eyes rest upon very much
 the same scene as the actors saw4 ,the 
reason why ,syracuse moved me by its    
acquired beauty1 and not for its        
historical associations1 was because ,i 
felt convinced that ,thucydides1 who    
gives so picturesque a description of   

the sea-fight1 can never have set eyes  
on the place1 and must have embroidered 
his account from scanty hearsay4 ,but1  
on the other hand1 there are few things 
in the world more profoundly moving than
 to see a place where great thoughts    
have been conceived and great books     
written1 when one is able to feel that  
the scene is hardly changed4 ,the other 
day1 as ,i passed before the sacred gate
 of ,rydal ,mount1 ,i took my hat off my
 head with a sense of indescribable     
reverence4 ,my companion asked me       
laughingly why ,i did so4 ,why8 ,i said4
 ,from natural piety1 of course6 ,i know
 every detail here as well as if ,i had 
lived here1 and ,i have walked in       
thought a hundred times with the poet1  
to and fro in the laurelled walks of the
 garden1 up the green shoulder of ,nab  
,scar1 and sat in the little parlour1   
while the fire leapt on the hearth1 and 
heard him 'booing' his verses1 to be    
copied by some friendly hand4  ,i thrill
 to see the stately rooms of            

,abbotsford1 with all their sham feudal 
decorations1 the little staircase by    
which ,scott stole away to his solitary 
work1 the folded clothes1 the shapeless 
hat1 the ugly shoes1 laid away in the   
glass case2 the plantations where he    
walked with his shrewd bailiff1 the     
place where he stopped so often on the  
shoulder of the slope1 to look at the   
,eildon ,hills1 the rooms where he sat1 
a broken and bereaved man1 yet with so  
gallant a spirit1 to wrestle with sorrow
 and adversity4 ,i wept1 ,i am not      
ashamed to say1 at ,abbotsford1 at the  
sight of the stately ,tweed rolling his 
silvery flood past lawns and            
shrubberies1 to think of that kindly1   
brave1 and honourable heart1 and his    
passionate love of all the goodly and   
cheerful joys of life and earth4  ,or1  
again1 it was a solemn day for me to    
pass from the humble tenement where     
,coleridge lived1 at ,nether ,stowey1   
before the cloud of sad habit had       
darkened his horizon1 and turned him    

away from the wells of poetry into the  
deserts of metaphysical speculation1 to 
find1 if he could1 some medicine for his
 tortured spirit4 ,i walked with a holy 
awe along the leafy lanes to ,alfoxden1 
where the beautiful house nestles in the
 green combe among its oaks1 thinking   
how here1 and here1 ,wordsworth and     
,coleridge had walked together in the   
glad days of youth1 and planned1 in     
obscurity and secluded joy1 the fresh   
and lovely lyrics of their matin-prime4 
,i turn1 ,i confess1 more eagerly to    
scenes like these than to scenes of     
historical and political tradition1     
because there hangs for me a glory about
 the scene of the conception and genesis
 of beautiful imaginative work that is  
unlike any glory that the earth holds4  
,the natural joy of the youthful spirit 
receiving the impact of mighty thoughts1
 of poignant impressions1 has for me a  
liberty and a grace which no historical 
or political associations could ever    
possess4 ,i could not glow to see the   

room in which a statesman worked out the
 details of a ,bill for the extension of
 the franchise1 or a modification of the
 duties upon imports and exports1 though
 ,i respect the growing powers of       
democracy and the extinction of         
privilege and monopoly2 but these       
measures are dimmed and tainted with    
intrigue and manoeuvre and statecraft4  
,i do not deny their importance1 their  
worth1 their nobleness4 ,but not by     
committees and legislation does humanity
 triumph4 ,in the vanguard go the       
blessed adventurous spirits that quicken
 the moral temperature1 and uplift the  
banner of simplicity and sincerity4 ,the
 host marches heavily behind1 and the   
commissariat rolls grumbling in the rear
 of all2 and though my place may be with
 the work-a-day herd1 ,i will send my   
fancy afar among the leafy valleys and  
the far-off hills of hope4  ,but ,i     
would not here quarrel with the taste of
 any man4 ,if a mortal chooses to travel
 in search of comfortable rooms1 new    

cookery and wines1 the livelier gossip  
of unknown people1 in heaven's name let 
him do so4 ,if another wishes to study  
economic conditions1 standards of life1 
rates of wages1 he has my gracious leave
 for his pilgrimage4 ,if another desires
 to amass historical and archaeological 
facts1 measurements of hypaethral       
temples1 modes of burial1 folk-lore1    
fortification1 ,god forbid that ,i      
should throw cold water on the quest4   
,but the only traveller whom ,i         
recognise as a kindred spirit is the man
 who goes in search of impressions and  
effects1 of tone and atmosphere1 of rare
 and curious beauty1 of uplifting       
association4 ,nothing that has ever     
moved the interest1 or the anxiety1 or  
the care1 or the wonder1 of human beings
 can ever wholly lose its charm4 ,i have
 felt my skin prickle and creep at the  
sight of that amazing thing in the      
,dublin museum1 a section dug bodily out
 of a claypit1 and showing the          
rough-hewn stones of a cist1 deep in the

 earth1 the gravel over it and around   
it1 the roots of the withered grass     
forming a crust many feet above1 and1   
inside the cist1 the rude urn1 reversed 
over a heap of charred ashes2 it was not
 the curiosity of the sight that moved  
me1 but the thought of the old dark life
 revealed1 the dim and savage world1    
that was yet shot through and pierced1  
even as now1 with sorrow for death1 and 
care for the beloved ashes of a friend  
and chieftain4 ,such a sight sets a     
viewless network of emotion1 which seems
 to interlace far back into the ages1   
all pulsating and stirring4 ,one sees in
 a flash that humanity lived1 carelessly
 and brutally perhaps1 as we too live1  
and were confronted1 as we are          
confronted1 with the horror of the gap1 
the intolerable mystery of life lapsing 
into the dark4 ,ah1 the relentless      
record1 the impenetrable mystery6 ,i    
care very little1 ,i fear1 for the      
historical development of funereal      
rites1 and hardly more for the light    

that such things throw on the evolution 
of society4 ,i leave that gratefully    
enough to the philosophers4 ,what ,i    
care for is the touch of nature that    
shows me my ancient brethren of the dim 
past--who would have mocked and         
ridiculed me1 ,i doubt not1 if ,i had   
fallen into their hands1 and killed me  
as carelessly as one throws aside the   
rind of a squeezed fruit--yet ,i am one 
of them1 and perhaps even something of  
their blood flows in my veins yet4  ,as 
,i grow older1 ,i tend to travel less   
and less1 and ,i do not care if ,i never
 cross the ,channel again4 ,is there a  
right and a wrong in the matter1 an     
advisability or an inadvisability1 an   
expediency or an inexpediency8 ,i do not
 think so4 ,travelling is a pleasure1 if
 it is anything1 and a pleasure pursued 
from a sense of duty is a very fatuous  
thing4 ,i have no good reason to give1  
only an accumulation of small reasons4  
,dr4 ,johnson once said that any number 
of insufficient reasons did not make a  

sufficient one1 just as a number of     
rabbits did not make a horse4 ,a lively 
but misleading illustration3 he might as
 well have said that any number of      
sovereigns did not make a cheque for a  
hundred pounds4 ,i suppose that ,i do   
not like the trouble1 to start with2 and
 then ,i do not like being adrift from  
my own beloved country4 ,then ,i cannot 
converse in any foreign language1 and   
half the pleasure of travelling comes   
from being able to lay oneself alongside
 of a new point of view4 ,then1 too1 ,i 
realise1 as ,i grow older1 how little ,i
 have really seen of my own incomparably
 beautiful and delightful land1 so that1
 like the hero of ,newman's hymn1       
,i do not ask to see      ,the distant  
scene2 one step enough for me4   ,and1  
lastly1 ,i have a reason which will     
perhaps seem a far-fetched one4 ,travel 
is essentially a distraction1 and ,i do 
not want to be distracted any more4 ,one
 of the mistakes that people make1 in   
these ,western latitudes1 is to be      

possessed by an inordinate desire to    
drown thought4 ,the aim of many men whom
 ,i know seems to me to be occupied in  
some absolutely definite way1 so that   
they may be as far as possible unaware  
of their own existence4 ,anything to    
avoid reflection6 ,a normal ,englishman 
does not care very much what the work   
and value of his occupation is1 as long 
as he is occupied2 and ,i am not at all 
sure that we came into the world to be  
occupied4 ,christ1 in the ,gospel story1
 rebuked the busy ,martha for her       
bustling anxieties1 her elaborate       
attentions to her guests1 and praised   
the leisurely ,mary for desiring to sit 
and hear ,him talk4 ,socrates spent his 
life in conversation4 ,i do not say that
 contemplation is a duty1 but ,i cannot 
help thinking that we are not forbidden 
to scrutinise life1 to wonder what it is
 all about1 to study its problems1 to   
apprehend its beauty and significance4  
,we admire a man who goes on making     
money long after he has made far more   

than he needs2 we think a life          
honourably spent in editing ,greek      
books4 ,socrates in one of ,plato's     
dialogues quotes the opinion of a       
philosopher to the effect that when a   
man has made enough to live upon1 he    
should begin to practise virtue4 ,i     
think he should begin even earlier1 says
 the interlocutor2 and ,i am wholly in  
agreement with him4 ,travel is one of   
the expedients to which busy men resort1
 in order that they may forget their    
existence4 ,i do not venture to think   
this exactly culpable1 but ,i feel sure 
that it is a pity that people do not do 
less and think more4 ,if a man asks what
 good comes from thinking1 ,i can only  
retort by asking what good comes from   
the multiplication of unnecessary       
activity4 ,i am quite as much at a loss 
as any one else to say what is the      
object of life1 but ,i do not feel any  
doubt that we are not sent into the     
world to be in a fuss4 ,like the lobster
 in ,the ,water-,babies1 ,i cry1 ,let me

 alone2 ,i want to think6 because ,i    
believe that that occupation is at least
 as profitable as many others4  ,and    
then1 too1 without travelling more than 
a few miles from my door1 ,i can see    
things fully as enchanting as ,i can see
 by ranging ,europe4 ,i went to-day     
along a well-known road2 just where the 
descent begins to fall into a quiet     
valley1 there stands a windmill--not one
 of the ugly black circular towers that 
one sometimes sees1 but one of the old  
crazy boarded sort1 standing on a kind  
of stalk2 out of the little loopholes of
 the mill the flour had dusted itself   
prettily over the weather-boarding4     
,from a mysterious hatch half-way up    
leaned the miller1 drawing up a sack of 
grain with a little pulley4 ,there is   
nothing so enchanting as to see a man   
leaning out of a dark doorway high up in
 the air4 ,he drew the sack in1 he      
closed the panel4 ,the sails whirled1   
flapping and creaking2 and ,i loved to  
think of him in the dusty gloom1 with   

the gear grumbling among the rafters1   
tipping the golden grain into its       
funnel1 while the rattling hopper below 
poured out its soft stream of flour4    
,beyond the mill1 the ground sank to a  
valley2 the roofs clustered round a     
great church tower1 the belfry windows  
blinking solemnly4 ,hard by the ancient 
,hall peeped out from its avenue of     
elms4 ,that was a picture as sweet as   
anything ,i have ever seen abroad1 as   
perfect a piece of art as could be      
framed1 and more perfect than anything  
that could be painted1 because it was a 
piece out of the old kindly1 quiet life 
of the world4 ,one ought to learn1 as   
the years flow on1 to love such scenes  
as that1 and not to need to have the    
blood and the brain stirred by romantic 
prospects1 peaked hills1 well-furnished 
galleries1 magnificent buildings3 mutare
 animum1 that is the secret1 to grow    
more hopeful1 more alive to delicate    
beauties1 more tender1 less exacting4   
,nothing1 it is true1 can give us peace2

 but we get nearer it by loving the     
familiar scene1 the old homestead1 the  
tiny valley1 the wayside copse1 than we 
do by racing over ,europe on the track  
of ,giorgione1 or over ,asia in pursuit 
of local colour4 ,after all1 everything 
has its appointed time4 ,it is good to  
range in youth1 to rub elbows with      
humanity1 and then1 as the days go on1  
to take stock1 to remember1 to wonder1  
,to be content with little1 to serve    
beauty well4     ,,vi4 ,,specialism     
,it is a very curious thing to reflect  
how often an old platitude or axiom     
retains its vitality1 long after the    
conditions which gave it birth have     
altered1 and it no longer represents a  
truth4 ,it would not matter if such     
platitudes only lived on dustily in     
vapid and ill-furnished minds1 like the 
vases of milky-green opaque glass       
decorated with golden stars1 that were  
the joy of ,early ,victorian            
chimney-pieces1 and now hold spills in  
the second-best spare bedroom4 ,but like

 the psalmist's enemies1 platitudes live
 and are mighty4 ,they remain1 and1     
alas6 they have the force of arguments  
in the minds of sturdy unreflective men1
 who describe themselves as plain1      
straightforward people1 and whose       
opinions carry weight in a community    
whose feelings are swayed by the        
statements of successful men rather than
 by the conclusions of reasonable men4  
,one of these pernicious platitudes is  
the statement that every one ought to   
know something about everything and     
everything about something4 ,it has a   
speciously epigrammatic air about it1   
dazzling enough to persuade the         
common-sense person that it is an       
intellectual judgment4  ,as a matter of 
fact1 under present conditions1 it      
represents an impossible and even       
undesirable ideal4 ,a man who tried to  
know something about everything would   
end in knowing very little about        
anything2 and the most exhaustive       
programme that could be laid down for   

the most erudite of savants nowadays    
would be that he should know anything   
about anything1 while the most resolute 
of specialists must be content with     
knowing something about something4  ,a  
well-informed friend told me1 the other 
day1 the name and date of a man who1 he 
said1 could be described as the last    
person who knew practically everything  
at his date that was worth knowing4 ,i  
have forgotten both the name and the    
date and the friend who told me1 but ,i 
believe that the learned man in question
 was a cardinal in the sixteenth        
century4 ,at the present time1 the      
problem of the accumulation of knowledge
 and the multiplication of books is a   
very serious one indeed4 ,it is1        
however1 morbid to allow it to trouble  
the mind4 ,like all insoluble problems1 
it will settle itself in a way so       
obvious that the people who solve it    
will wonder that any one could ever have
 doubted what the solution would be1    
just as the problem of the depletion of 

the world's stock of coal will no doubt 
be solved in some perfectly simple      
fashion4  ,the dictum in question is    
generally quoted as an educational      
formula in favour of giving every one   
what is called a sound general          
education4 ,and it is probably one of   
the contributory causes which account   
for the present chaos of curricula4 ,all
 subjects are held to be so important1  
and each subject is thought by its      
professors to be so peculiarly adapted  
for educational stimulus1 that a        
resolute selection of subjects1 which is
 the only remedy1 is not attempted2 and 
accordingly the victim of educational   
theories is in the predicament of the   
man described by ,dr4 ,johnson who could
 not make up his mind which leg of his  
breeches he would put his foot into     
first4 ,meanwhile1 said the ,doctor1    
with a directness of speech which       
requires to be palliated1 the process of
 investiture is suspended4  ,but the    
practical result of the dilemma is the  

rise of specialism4 ,the savant is dead 
and the specialist rules4 ,it is        
interesting to try to trace the effect  
of this revolution upon our national    
culture4  ,now1 ,i have no desire       
whatever to take up the cudgels against 
the specialists3 they are a harmless and
 necessary race1 so long as they are    
aware of their limitations4 ,but the    
tyranny of an oligarchy is the worst    
kind of tyranny1 because it means the   
triumph of an average over individuals1 
whereas the worst that can be said of a 
despotism is that it is the triumph of  
an individual over an average4 ,the     
tyranny of the specialistic oligarchy is
 making itself felt to-day1 and ,i      
should like to fortify the revolutionary
 spirit of liberty1 whose boast it is to
 detest tyranny in all its forms1       
whether it is the tyranny of an         
enlightened despot1 or the tyranny of a 
virtuous oligarchy1 or the tyranny of an
 intelligent democracy4  ,the first evil
 which results from the rule of the     

specialist is the destruction of the    
,,amateur4 ,so real a fact is the       
tyranny of the specialist that the very 
word amateur1 which means a leisurely   
lover of fine things1 is beginning to be
 distorted into meaning an inefficient  
performer4 ,as an instance of its       
correct and idiomatic use1 ,i often     
think of the delightful landlord whom   
,stevenson encountered somewhere1 and   
upon whom he pressed some ,burgundy     
which he had with him4 ,the generous    
host courteously refused a second glass1
 saying1 ,you see ,i am an amateur of   
these things1 and ,i am capable of      
leaving you not sufficient4 ,now1 ,i    
shall concern myself here principally   
with literature1 because1 in ,england at
 all events1 literature plays the       
largest part in general culture4 ,it may
 be said that we owe some of the best   
literature we have to amateurs4 ,to     
contrast a few names1 taken at random1  
,shakespeare1 ,dryden1 ,pope1 ,dr4      
,johnson1 ,de ,quincey1 ,tennyson1 and  

,carlyle were professionals1 it is true2
 but1 on the other hand1 ,milton1 ,gray1
 ,boswell1 ,walter ,scott1 ,charles     
,lamb1 ,shelley1 ,browning1 and ,ruskin 
were amateurs4 ,it is not a question of 
how much a man writes or publishes1 it  
is a question of the spirit in which a  
man writes4 ,walter ,scott became a     
professional in the last years of his   
life1 and for the noblest of reasons2   
but he also became a bad writer4 ,a good
 pair to contrast are ,southey and      
,coleridge4 ,they began as amateurs4    
,southey became a professional writer1  
and his sun set in the mists of valuable
 information4 ,coleridge1 as an amateur1
 enriched the language with a few       
priceless poems1 and then got involved  
in the morass of dialectical            
metaphysics4 ,the point is whether a man
 writes simply because he cannot help   
it1 or whether he writes to make an     
income4 ,the latter motive does not by  
any means prevent his doing first-rate  
artistic work--indeed1 there are certain

 persons who seem to have required the  
stimulus of necessity to make them break
 through an initial indolence of nature4
 ,when ,johnson found fault with ,gray  
for having times of the year when he    
wrote more easily1 from the vernal to   
the autumnal equinox1 he added that a   
man could write at any time if he set   
himself doggedly to it4 ,true1 no doubt6
 ,but to write doggedly is not to court 
favourable conditions for artistic work4
 ,it may be a finer sight for a moralist
 to see a man performing an appointed   
task heavily and faithfully1 with grim  
tenacity1 than it is to see an artist in
 a frenzy of delight dashing down an    
overpowering impression of beauty2 but  
what has always hampered the ,british   
appreciation of literature is that we   
cannot disentangle the moral element    
from it3 we are interested in morals1   
not in art1 and we require a dash of    
optimistic piety in all writing that we 
propose to enjoy4  ,the real question is
 whether1 if a man sets himself doggedly

 to work1 the appetite comes with       
eating1 and whether the caged bird      
begins to flutter its wings and to send 
out the song that it learnt in the green
 heart of the wood4 ,when ,byron said   
that easy writing made damned hard      
reading1 he meant that careless         
conception and hasty workmanship tend to
 blur the pattern and the colour of     
work4 ,the fault of the amateur is that 
he can make the coat1 but he cannot be  
bothered to make it fit4 ,but it is not 
by any means true that hard writing     
makes easy reading4 ,the spirit of the  
amateur is the spirit of the lover1 who 
trembles at the thought that the        
delicate creature he loves may learn to 
love him in return1 if he can but praise
 her worthily4 ,the professional spirit 
is the spirit in which a man carefully  
and courteously woos an elderly spinster
 for the sake of her comfortable        
fortune4 ,the amateur has an            
irresponsible joy in his work2 he is    
like the golfer who dreams of mighty    

drives1 and practises putting on his    
back lawn3 the professional writer gives
 his solid hours to his work in a       
conscientious spirit1 and is glad in    
hours of freedom to put the tiresome    
business away4 ,yet neither the amateur 
nor the professional can hope to capture
 the spirit of art by joy or            
faithfulness4 ,it is a kind of divine   
felicity1 when all is said and done1 the
 kindly gift of ,god4  ,now into this   
free wild world of art and literature   
and music comes the specialist and pegs 
out his claim1 fencing out the amateur1 
who is essentially a rambler1 from a    
hundred eligible situations4 ,in        
literature this is particularly the     
case3 the amateur is told by the        
historian that he must not intrude upon 
history2 that history is a science1 and 
not a province of literature2 that the  
time has not come to draw any           
conclusions or to summarise any         
tendencies2 that picturesque narrative  
is an offence against the spirit of     

,truth2 that no one is as black or as   
white as he is painted2 and that to     
trifle with history is to commit a sin  
compounded of the sin of ,ananias and   
,simon ,magus4 ,the amateur runs off1   
his hands over his ears1 and henceforth 
hardly dares even to read history1 to   
say nothing of writing it4 ,perhaps ,i  
draw too harsh a picture1 but the truth 
is that ,i did1 as a very young man1    
with no training except that provided by
 a sketchy knowledge of the classics1   
once attempt to write an historical     
biography4 ,i shudder to think of my    
method and equipment2 ,i skipped the    
dull parts1 ,i left all tiresome        
documents unread4 ,it was a sad farrago 
of enthusiasm and levity and heady      
writing4 ,but ,jove's thunder rolled and
 the bolt fell4 ,a just man1 whom ,i    
have never quite forgiven1 to tell the  
truth1 told me with unnecessary rigour  
and acrimony that ,i had made a pitiable
 exhibition of myself4 ,but ,i have     
thanked ,god ever since1 for ,i turned  

to literature pure and simple4  ,then1  
too1 it is the same with art-criticism2 
here the amateur again1 who1 poor fool1 
is on the look-out for what is          
beautiful1 is told that he must not     
meddle with art unless he does it       
seriously1 which means that he must     
devote himself mainly to the study of   
inferior masterpieces1 and schools1 and 
tendencies4 ,in literature it is the    
same2 he must not devote himself to     
reading and loving great books1 he must 
disentangle influences2 he must discern 
the historical importance of writers1   
worthless in themselves1 who form       
important links4 ,in theology and in    
philosophy it is much the same3 he must 
not read the ,bible and say what he     
feels about it2 he must unravel         
,rabbinical and ,talmudic tendencies2 he
 must acquaint himself with the         
heretical leanings of a certain era1 and
 the shadow cast upon the page by       
apocryphal tradition4 ,in philosophy he 
is still worse off1 because he must     

plumb the depths of metaphysical jargon 
and master the criticism of methods4    
,now1 this is in a degree both right and
 necessary1 because the blind must not  
attempt to lead the blind2 but it is    
treating the whole thing in too strictly
 scientific a spirit for all that4 ,the 
misery of it is that the work of the    
specialist in all these regions tends to
 set a hedge about the law2 it tends to 
accumulate and perpetuate a vast amount 
of inferior work4 ,the result of it is1 
in literature1 for instance1 that an    
immense amount of second-rate and       
third-rate books go on being reprinted2 
and instead of the principle of         
selection being applied to great        
authors1 and their inferior writings    
being allowed to lapse into oblivion1   
they go on being re-issued1 not because 
they have any direct value for the human
 spirit1 but because they have a        
scientific importance from the point of 
view of development4 ,yet for the       
ordinary human being it is far more     

important that he should read great     
masterpieces in a spirit of lively and  
enthusiastic sympathy than that he      
should wade into them through a mass of 
archaeological and philological detail4 
,as a boy ,i used to have to prepare1 on
 occasions1 a play of ,shakespeare for a
 holiday task4 ,i have regarded certain 
plays with a kind of horror ever since1 
because one ended by learning up the    
introduction1 which concerned itself    
with the origin of the play1 and the    
notes which illustrated the meaning of  
such words as kerns and gallowglasses1  
and left the action and the poetry and  
the emotion of the play to take care of 
themselves4 ,this was due partly to the 
blighting influence of                  
examination-papers set by men of        
sterile1 conscientious brains1 but      
partly to the terrible value set by     
,british minds upon correct information4
 ,the truth really is that if one begins
 by caring for a work of art1 one also  
cares to understand the medium through  

which it is conveyed2 but if one begins 
by studying the medium first1 one is apt
 to end by loathing the masterpiece1    
because of the dusty apparatus that it  
seems liable to collect about itself4   
,the result of the influence of the     
specialist upon literature is that the  
amateur1 hustled from any region where  
the historical and scientific method can
 be applied1 turns his attention to the 
field of pure imagination1 where he     
cannot be interfered with4 ,and this1 ,i
 believe1 is one of the reasons why     
belles-lettres in the more precise sense
 tend to be deserted in favour of       
fiction4 ,sympathetic and imaginative   
criticism is so apt to be stamped upon  
by the erudite1 who cry out so          
lamentably over errors and minute slips1
 that the novel seems to be the only    
safe vantage-ground in which the amateur
 may disport himself4  ,but if the      
specialist is to the amateur what the   
hawk is to the dove1 let us go further1 
and in a spirit of love1 like ,mr4      

,chadband1 inquire what is the effect of
 specialism on the mind of the          
specialist4 ,i have had the opportunity 
of meeting many specialists1 and ,i say 
unhesitatingly that the effect largely  
depends upon the natural temperament of 
the individual4 ,as a general rule1 the 
great specialist is a wise1 kindly1     
humble1 delightful man4 ,he perceives   
that though he has spent his whole life 
upon a subject or a fraction of a       
subject1 he knows hardly anything about 
it compared to what there is to know4   
,the track of knowledge glimmers far    
ahead of him1 rising and falling like a 
road over solitary downs4 ,he knows that
 it will not be given to him to advance 
very far upon the path1 and he half     
envies those who shall come after1 to   
whom many things that are dark mysteries
 to himself will be clear and plain4    
,but he sees1 too1 how the dim avenues  
of knowledge reach out in every         
direction1 interlacing and combining1   
and when he contrasts the tiny powers of

 the most subtle brain with all the wide
 range of law--for the knowledge which  
is to be1 not invented1 but simply      
discovered1 is all assuredly there1     
secret and complex as it seems--there is
 but little room for complacency or     
pride4 ,indeed1 ,i think that a great   
savant1 as a rule1 feels that instead of
 being separated by his store of        
knowledge1 as by a wide space that he   
has crossed1 from smaller minds1 he is  
brought closer to the ignorant by the   
presence of the vast unknown4 ,instead  
of feeling that he has soared like a    
rocket away from the ground1 he thinks  
of himself rather as a flower might     
think whose head was an inch or two     
higher than a great company of similar  
flowers2 he has perhaps a wider view2 he
 sees the bounding hedgerow1 the distant
 line of hills1 whereas the humbler     
flower sees little but a forest of stems
 and blooms1 with the light falling     
dimly between4 ,and a great savant1 too1
 is far more ready to credit other      

people with a wider knowledge than they 
possess4 ,it is the lesser kind of      
savant1 the man of one book1 of one     
province1 of one period1 who is inclined
 to think that he is differentiated from
 the crowd4 ,the great man is far too   
much preoccupied with real progress to  
waste time and energy in showing up the 
mistakes of others4 ,it is the lesser   
kind of savant1 jealous of his own      
reputation1 anxious to show his         
superiority1 who loves to censure and   
deride the feebler brother4 ,if one ever
 sees a relentless and pitiless review  
of a book--an exposure1 as it is called1
 by one specialist of another's         
work--one may be fairly certain that the
 critic is a minute kind of person4     
,again1 the great specialist is never   
anxious to obtrude his subject2 he is   
rather anxious to hear what is going on 
in other regions of mental activity1    
regions which he would like to explore  
but cannot4 ,it is the lesser light that
 desires to dazzle and bewilder his     

company1 to tyrannise1 to show off4 ,it 
is the most difficult thing to get a    
great savant to talk about his subject1 
though1 if he is kind and patient1 will 
answer unintelligent questions1 and help
 a feeble mind along1 it is one of the  
most delightful things in the world4 ,i 
seized the opportunity some little while
 ago1 on finding myself sitting next to 
a great physicist1 of asking him a      
series of fumbling questions on the     
subject of modern theories of matter2   
for an hour ,i stumbled like a child1   
supported by a strong hand1 in a dim and
 unfamiliar world1 among the mysterious 
essences of things4 ,i should like to   
try to reproduce it here1 but ,i have no
 doubt ,i should reproduce it all wrong4
 ,still1 it was deeply inspiring to look
 out into chaos1 to hear the rush and   
motion of atoms1 moving in vast         
vortices1 to learn that inside the      
hardest and most impenetrable of        
substances there was probably a feverish
 intensity of inner motion4 ,i do not   

know that ,i acquired any precise       
knowledge1 but ,i drank deep draughts of
 wonder and awe4 ,the great man1 with   
his amused and weary smile1 was         
infinitely gentle1 and left me1 ,i will 
say1 far more conscious of the beauty   
and the holiness of knowledge4 ,i said  
something to him about the sense of     
power that such knowledge must give4    
,ah6 he said1 much of what ,i have told 
you is not proved1 it is only suspected4
 ,we are very much in the dark about    
these things yet4 ,probably if a        
physicist of a hundred years hence could
 overhear me1 he would be amazed to     
think that a sensible man could make    
such puerile statements4 ,power--no1 it 
is not that6 ,it rather makes one       
realise one's feebleness in being so    
uncertain about things that are         
absolutely certain and precise in       
themselves1 if we could but see the     
truth4 ,it is much more like the apostle
 who said1 ',lord1 ,i believe2 help     
,thou my unbelief4' ,the thing one      

wonders at is the courage of the men who
 dare to think they ,,know4  ,in one    
region ,i own that ,i dread and dislike 
the tyranny of the specialist1 and that 
is the region of metaphysical and       
religious speculation4 ,people who      
indulge themselves in this form of      
speculation are apt to be told by       
theologians and metaphysicians that they
 ought to acquaint themselves with the  
trend of theological and metaphysical   
criticism4 ,it seems to me like telling 
people that they must not ascend        
mountains unless they are accompanied by
 guides1 and have studied the history of
 previous ascents4 ,yes1 the            
professional says1 that is just what ,i 
mean2 it is mere foolhardiness to       
attempt these arduous places unless you 
know exactly what you are about4  ,to   
that ,i reply that no one is bound to go
 up hills1 but that every one who       
reflects at all is confronted by        
religious and philosophical problems4   
,we all have to live1 and we are all    

more or less experts in life4 ,when one 
considers the infinite importance to    
every human spirit of these problems1   
and when one further considers how very 
little theologians and philosophers have
 ever effected in the direction of      
enlightening us as to the object of     
life1 the problem of pain and evil1 the 
preservation of identity after death1   
the question of necessity and free-will1
 surely1 to attempt to silence people on
 these matters because they have not had
 a technical training is nothing more   
than an attempt wilfully to suppress    
evidence on these points8 ,the only way 
in which it may be possible to arrive at
 the solution of these things is to know
 how they appeal to and affect normal   
minds4 ,i would rather hear the         
experience of a life-long sufferer on   
the problem of pain1 or of a faithful   
lover on the mystery of love1 or of a   
poet on the influence of natural beauty1
 or of an unselfish and humble saint on 
the question of faith in the unseen1    

than the evidence of the most subtle    
theologian or metaphysician in the      
world4 ,many of us1 if we are           
specialists in nothing else1 are        
specialists in life2 we have arrived at 
a point of view2 some particular aspect 
of things has come home to us with a    
special force2 and what really enriches 
the hope and faith of the world is the  
experience of candid and sincere        
persons4 ,the specialist has often had  
no time or opportunity to observe life2 
all he has observed is the thought of   
other secluded persons1 persons whose   
view has been both narrow and           
conventional1 because they have not had 
the opportunity of correcting their     
traditional preconceptions by life      
itself4  ,i call1 with all the          
earnestness that ,i can muster1 upon all
 intelligent1 observant1 speculative    
people1 who have felt the problems of   
life weigh heavily upon them1 not to be 
dismayed by the disapproval of technical
 students1 but to come forward and tell 

us what conclusions they have formed4   
,the work of the trained specialist is  
essentially1 in religion and philosophy1
 a negative work4 ,he can show us how   
erroneous beliefs1 which coloured the   
minds of men at certain ages and eras1  
grew up4 ,he can show us what can be    
disregarded1 as being only the          
conventional belief of the time2 he can 
indicate1 for instance1 how a false     
conception of supernatural interference 
with natural law grew up in an age when1
 for want of trained knowledge1 facts   
seemed fortuitous occurrences which were
 really conditioned by natural laws4    
,the poet and the idealist make and cast
 abroad the great vital ideas1 which the
 specialist picks up and analyses4 ,but 
we must not stop at analysis2 we want   
positive progress as well4 ,we want     
people to tell us1 candidly and simply1 
how their own soul grew1 how it cast off
 conventional beliefs1 how it justified 
itself in being hopeful or the reverse4 
,there never was a time when more       

freedom of thought and expression was   
conceded to the individual4 ,a man is no
 longer socially banned for being       
heretical1 schismatic1 or               
liberal-minded4 ,i want people to say   
frankly what real part spiritual        
agencies or religious ideas have played 
in their lives1 whether such agencies   
and ideas have modified their conduct1  
or have been modified by their          
inclinations and habits4 ,i long to know
 a thousand things about my             
fellow-men--how they bear pain1 how they
 confront the prospect of death1 the    
hopes by which they live1 the fears that
 overshadow them1 the stuff of their    
lives1 the influence of their emotions4 
,it has long been thought1 and it is    
still thought by many narrow precisians1
 indelicate and egotistical to do this4 
,and the result is that we can find in  
books all the things that do not matter1
 while the thoughts that are of deep and
 vital interest are withheld4  ,such    
books as ,montaigne's ,essays1          

,rousseau's ,confessions1 ,mrs4         
,carlyle's ,letters1 ,mrs4 ,oliphant's  
,memoirs1 the ,autobiography of ,b4 ,r4 
,haydon1 to name but a few books that   
come into my mind1 are the sort of books
 that ,i crave for1 because they are    
books in which one sees right into the  
heart and soul of another4 ,men can     
confess to a book what they cannot      
confess to a friend4 ,why should it be  
necessary to veil this essence of       
humanity in the dreary melodrama1 the   
trite incident of a novel or a play8    
,things in life do not happen as they   
happen in novels or plays4 ,oliver      
,twist1 in real life1 does not get      
accidentally adopted by his             
grandfather's oldest friend1 and commit 
his sole burglary in the house of his   
aunt4 ,we do not want life to be        
transplanted into trim garden-plots2 we 
want to see it at home1 as it grows in  
all its native wildness1 on the one     
hand2 and to know the idea1 the theory1 
the principle that underlie it on the   

other4 ,how few of us there are who     
,,make our lives into anything6 ,we     
accept our limitations1 we drift with   
them1 while we indignantly assert the   
freedom of the will4 ,the best sermon in
 the world is to hear of one who has    
struggled with life1 bent or trained it 
to his will1 plucked or rejected its    
fruit1 but all upon some principle4 ,it 
matters little what we do2 it matters   
enormously how we do it4 ,considering   
how much has been said1 and sung1 and   
written1 and recorded1 and prated1 and  
imagined1 it is strange to think how    
little is ever told us directly about   
life2 we see it in glimpses and flashes1
 through half-open doors1 or as one sees
 it from a train gliding into a great   
town1 and looks into back windows and   
yards sheltered from the street4 ,we    
philosophise1 most of us1 about anything
 but life2 and one of the reasons why   
published sermons have such vast sales  
is because1 however clumsily and        
conventionally1 it is with life that    

they try to deal4  ,this kind of        
specialising is not recognised as a     
technical form of it at all1 and yet how
 far nearer and closer and more urgent  
it is for us than any other kind4 ,i    
have a hope that we are at the beginning
 of an era of plain-speaking in these   
matters4 ,too often1 with the literary  
standard of decorum which prevails1 such
 self-revelations are brushed aside as  
morbid1 introspective1 egotistical4     
,they are no more so than any other kind
 of investigation1 for all investigation
 is conditioned by the personality of   
the investigator4 ,all that is needed is
 that an observer of life should be     
perfectly candid and sincere1 that he   
should not speak in a spirit of vanity  
or self-glorification1 that he should   
try to disentangle what are the real    
motives that make him act or refrain    
from acting4  ,as an instance of what ,i
 mean by confession of the frankest     
order1 dealing in this case not only    
with literature but also with morality1 

let me take the sorrowful words which   
,ruskin wrote in his ,praeterita1 as a  
wearied and saddened man1 when there was
 no longer any need for him to pretend  
anything1 or to involve any of his own  
thoughts or beliefs in any sort of      
disguise4 ,he took up ,shakespeare at   
,macugnaga1 in #ahdj1 and he asks why   
the loveliest of ,shakespeare's plays   
should be all mixed and encumbered with 
languid and common work--to one's best  
hope spurious certainly1 so far as      
original1 idle and disgraceful--and all 
so inextricably and mysteriously that   
the writer himself is not only          
unknowable1 but inconceivable2 and his  
wisdom so useless1 that at this time of 
being and speaking1 among active and    
purposeful ,englishmen1 ,i know not one 
who shows a trace of ever having felt a 
passion of ,shakespeare's1 or learnt a  
lesson from him4  ,that is of course the
 sad cry of one who is interested in    
life primarily1 and in art only so far  
as it can minister to life4 ,it may be  

strained and exaggerated1 but how far   
more vital a saying than to expand in   
voluble and vapid enthusiasm over the   
insight and nobleness of ,shakespeare1  
if one has not really felt one's life   
modified by that mysterious mind6  ,of  
course such self-revelation as ,i speak 
of will necessarily fall into the hands 
of unquiet1 dissatisfied1 melancholy    
people4 ,if life is a common-place and  
pleasant sort of business1 there is     
nothing particular to say or to think   
about it4 ,but for all those--and they  
are many--who feel that life misses1 by 
some blind1 inevitable movement1 being  
the gracious and beautiful thing it     
seems framed to be1 how can such as     
these hold their peace8 ,and how1 except
 by facing it all1 and looking patiently
 and bravely at it1 can we find a remedy
 for its sore sicknesses8 ,that method  
has been used1 and used with success in 
every other kind of investigation1 and  
we must investigate life too1 even if it
 turns out to be all a kind of          

,mendelism1 moved and swayed by         
absolutely fixed laws1 which take no    
account of what we sorrowfully desire4  
,let us1 then1 gather up our threads a  
little4 ,let us first confront the fact 
that1 under present conditions1 in the  
face of the mass of records and books   
and accumulated traditions1 arts and    
sciences must make progress little by   
little1 line by line1 in skilled        
technical hands4 ,fine achievement in   
every region becomes more difficult     
every day1 because there is so much that
 is finished and perfected behind us2   
and if the conditions of our lives call 
us to some strictly limited path1 let us
 advance wisely and humbly1 step by     
step1 without pride or vanity4 ,but let 
us not forget1 in the face of the       
frigidities of knowledge1 that if they  
are the mechanism of life1 emotion and  
hope and love and admiration are the    
steam4 ,knowledge is only valuable in so
 far as it makes the force of life      
effective and vigorous4 ,and thus if we 

have breasted the strange current of    
life1 or even if we have been ourselves 
overpowered and swept away by it1 let us
 try1 in whatever region we have the    
power1 to let that experience have some 
value for ourselves and others4 ,if we  
can say it or write it1 so much the     
better4 ,there are thousands of people  
moving through the world who are wearied
 and bewildered1 and who are looking out
 for any message of hope and joy that   
may give them courage to struggle on2   
but if we cannot do that1 we can at     
least live life temperately and         
cheerfully and sincerely3 if we have    
bungled1 if we have slipped1 we can do  
something to help others not to go      
light-heartedly down the miry path2 we  
can raise them up if they have fallen1  
we can cleanse the stains1 or we can at 
least give them the comfort of feeling  
that they are not sadly and             
insupportably alone4     ,,vii4 ,,our   
,,lack ,,of ,,great ,,men   ,it is often
 mournfully reiterated that the present 

age is not an age of great men1 and ,i  
have sometimes wondered if it is true4  
,in the first place ,i do not feel sure 
that an age is the best judge of its own
 greatness2 a great age is generally    
more interested in doing the things     
which afterwards cause it to be         
considered great1 than in wondering     
whether it is great4 ,perhaps the fact  
that we are on the look-out for great   
men1 and complaining because we cannot  
find them1 is the best proof of our     
second-rateness2 ,i do not imagine that 
the ,elizabethan writers were much      
concerned with thinking whether they    
were great or not2 they were much more  
occupied in having a splendid time1 and 
in saying as eagerly as they could all  
the delightful thoughts which came      
crowding to the utterance1 than in      
pondering whether they were worthy of   
admiration4 ,in the annals of the       
,renaissance one gets almost weary of   
the records of brilliant persons1 like  
,leo ,battista ,alberti and ,leonardo da

 ,vinci1 who were architects1 sculptors1
 painters1 musicians1 athletes1 and     
writers all in one2 who could make      
crowds weep by twanging a lute1 ride the
 most vicious horses1 take standing     
jumps over the heads of tall men1 and   
who were1 moreover1 so impressionable   
that books were to them as jewels and   
flowers1 and who grew faint at the sight
 of sunsets and stately persons4 ,such  
as these1 we may depend upon it1 had    
little time to give to considering their
 own effect upon posterity4 ,when the   
sun rules the day1 there is no question 
about his supremacy2 it is when we are  
concerned with scanning the sky for     
lesser lights to rule the night that we 
are wasting time4 ,to go about searching
 for somebody to inspire one testifies1 
no doubt1 to a certain lack of fire and 
initiative4 ,but1 on the other hand1    
there have been many great men whose    
greatness their contemporaries did not  
recognise4 ,we tend at the present time 
to honour achievements when they have   

begun to grow a little mouldy2 we seldom
 accord ungrudging admiration to a      
prophet when he is at his best4         
,moreover1 in an age like the present1  
when the general average of             
accomplishment is remarkably high1 it is
 more difficult to detect greatness4 ,it
 is easier to see big trees when they   
stand out over a copse than when they   
are lost in the depths of the forest4   
,now there are two modes and methods of 
being great2 one is by largeness1 the   
other by intensity4 ,a great man can be 
cast in a big1 magnanimous mould1       
without any very special accomplishments
 or abilities2 it may be very difficult 
to praise any of his faculties very     
highly1 but he is there4 ,such men are  
the natural leaders of mankind2 they    
effect what they effect not by any      
subtlety or ingenuity4 ,they see in a   
wide1 general way what they want1 they  
gather friends and followers and helpers
 round them1 and put the right man on at
 the right piece of work4 ,they perform 

what they perform by a kind of          
voluminous force1 which carries other   
personalities away2 for lesser natures1 
as a rule1 do not like supreme          
responsibility2 they enjoy what is to   
ordinary people the greatest luxury in  
the world1 namely1 the being            
sympathetically commandeered1 and duly  
valued4 ,inspiration and leadership are 
not common gifts1 and there are         
abundance of capable people who cannot  
strike out a novel line of their own1   
but can do excellent work if they can be
 inspired and led4 ,i was once for a    
short time brought into close contact   
with a man of this kind2 it was         
impossible to put down on paper or to   
explain to those who did not know him   
what his claim to greatness was4 ,i     
remember being asked by an incredulous  
outsider where his greatness lay1 and ,i
 could not name a single conspicuous    
quality that my hero possessed4 ,but he 
dominated his circle for all that1 and  
many of them were men of far greater    

intellectual force than himself4 ,he had
 his own way2 if he asked one to do a   
particular thing1 one felt proud to be  
entrusted with it1 and amply rewarded by
 a word of approval4 ,it was possible to
 take a different view from the view    
which he took of a matter or a          
situation1 but it was impossible to     
express one's dissent in his presence4  
,a few halting1 fumbling words of his   
were more weighty than many a facile and
 voluble oration4 ,personally ,i often  
mistrusted his judgment1 but ,i followed
 him with an eager delight4 ,with such  
men as these1 posterity is often at a   
loss to know why they impressed their   
contemporaries1 or why they continue to 
be spoken of with reverence and         
enthusiasm4 ,the secret is that it is a 
kind of moral and magnetic force1 and   
the lamentable part of it is that such  
men1 if they are not enlightened and    
wise1 may do more harm than good1       
because they tend to stereotype what    
ought to be changed and renewed4  ,that 

is one way of greatness2 a sort of big1 
blunt force that overwhelms and uplifts1
 like a great sea-roller1 yielding at a 
hundred small points1 yet crowding      
onwards in soft volume and ponderous    
weight4  ,two interesting examples of   
this impressive and indescribable       
greatness seem to have been ,arthur     
,hallam and the late ,mr4 ,w4 ,e4       
,henley4 ,in the case of ,arthur        
,hallam1 the eulogies which his friends 
pronounced upon him seem couched in     
terms of an intemperate extravagance4   
,the fact that the most splendid        
panegyrics upon him were uttered by men 
of high genius is not in itself more    
conclusive than if such panegyrics had  
been conceived by men of lesser quality1
 because the greater that a man is the  
more readily does he perceive and more  
magniloquently acknowledge greatness4   
,apart from ,in ,memoriam1 ,tennyson's  
recorded utterances about ,arthur       
,hallam are expressed in terms of almost
 hyperbolical laudation4 ,i once was    

fortunate enough to have the opportunity
 of asking ,mr4 ,gladstone about ,arthur
 ,hallam4 ,mr4 ,gladstone had been his  
close friend at ,eton and his constant  
companion4 ,his eye flashed1 his voice  
gathered volume1 and with a fine gesture
 of his hand he said that he could only 
deliberately affirm that physically1    
intellectually1 and morally1 ,arthur    
,hallam approached more nearly to an    
ideal of human perfection than any one  
whom he had ever seen4 ,and yet the     
picture of ,hallam at ,eton represents a
 young man of an apparently solid and   
commonplace type1 with a fresh colour1  
and almost wholly destitute of          
distinction or charm2 while his extant  
fragments of prose and poetry are heavy1
 verbose1 and elaborate1 and without any
 memorable quality4 ,it appears indeed  
as if he had exercised a sort of        
hypnotic influence upon his             
contemporaries4 ,neither does he seem to
 have produced a very gracious          
impression upon outsiders who happened  

to meet him4 ,there is a curious        
anecdote told by some one who met       
,arthur ,hallam travelling with his     
father on the ,continent only a short   
time before his sudden death4 ,the      
narrator says that he saw with a certain
 satisfaction how mercilessly the young 
man criticised and exposed his father's 
statements1 remembering how merciless   
the father had often been in dealing    
summarily with the arguments and        
statements of his own contemporaries4   
,one asks oneself in vain what the      
magnetic charm of his presence and      
temperament can have been4 ,it was      
undoubtedly there1 and yet it seems     
wholly irrecoverable4 ,the same is true1
 in a different region1 with the late   
,mr4 ,w4 ,e4 ,henley4 ,his literary     
performances1 with the exception of some
 half-a-dozen poetical pieces1 have no  
great permanent value4 ,his criticisms  
were vehement and complacent1 but       
represent no great delicacy of analysis 
nor breadth of view4 ,his treatment of  

,stevenson1 considering the             
circumstances of the case1 was          
ungenerous and irritable4 ,yet those who
 were brought into close contact with   
,henley recognised something            
magnanimous1 noble1 and fiery about him1
 which evoked a passionate devotion4 ,i 
remember shortly before his death       
reading an appreciation of his work by a
 faithful admirer1 who described him as 
another ,dr4 ,johnson1 and speaking of  
his critical judgment1 said1 ,mr4       
,henley is pontifical in his wrath2 it  
pleased him1 for example1 to deny to ,de
 ,quincey the title to write ,english   
prose4 ,that a criticism so arrogant1 so
 saugrenu1 should be re-echoed with such
 devoted commendation is a proof that   
the writer's independent judgment was   
simply swept away by ,henley's          
personality2 and in both these cases one
 is merely brought face to face with the
 fact that though men can earn the      
admiration of the world by effective    
performance1 the most spontaneous and   

enduring gratitude is given to          
individuality4  ,the other way of       
greatness is the way of intensity1 that 
focuses all its impact at some brilliant
 point1 like a rapier-thrust or a flash 
of lightning4 ,men with this kind of    
greatness have generally some supreme   
and dazzling accomplishment1 and the    
rest of their nature is often sacrificed
 to one radiant faculty4 ,their power1  
in some one single direction1 is        
absolutely distinct and unquestioned2   
and these are the men who1 if they can  
gather up and express the forces of some
 vague and widespread tendency1 some    
blind and instinctive movement of men's 
minds1 form as it were the cutting edge 
of a weapon4 ,they do not supply the    
force1 but they concentrate it2 and it  
is men of this type who are often       
credited with the bringing about of some
 profound and revolutionary change1     
because they summarise and define some  
huge force that is abroad4 ,not to      
travel far for instances1 such a man was

 ,rousseau4 ,the air of his period was  
full of sentiments and emotions and     
ideas2 he was not himself a man of      
force2 he was a dreamer and a poet2 but 
he had the matchless gift of ardent     
expression1 and he was able to say both 
trenchantly and attractively exactly    
what every one was vaguely meditating4  
,now let us take some of the chief      
departments of human effort1 some of the
 provinces in which men attain supreme  
fame1 and consider what kinds of        
greatness we should expect the present  
day to evoke4 ,in the department of     
warfare1 we have had few opportunities  
of late to discover high strategical    
genius4 ,our navy has been practically  
unemployed1 and the ,south ,african war 
was just the sort of campaign to reveal 
the deficiencies of an elaborate and not
 very practical peace establishment4    
,though it solidified a few reputations 
and pricked the bubble of some few      
others1 it certainly did not reveal any 
subtle adaptability in our generals4 ,it

 was ,lord ,north1 ,i think1 who1 when  
discussing with his ,cabinet a list of  
names of officers suggested for the     
conduct of a campaign1 said1 ,i do not  
know what effect these names produce    
upon you1 gentlemen1 but ,i confess they
 make me tremble4 ,the ,south ,african  
war can hardly be said to have revealed 
that we have many generals who closely  
corresponded to ,wordsworth's           
description of the ,happy ,warrior1 but 
rather induced the tremulousness which  
,lord ,north experienced4 ,still1 if1 in
 the strategical region1 our solitary   
recent campaign rather tends to prove a 
deficiency of men of supreme gifts1 it  
at all events proved a considerable     
degree of competence and devotion4 ,i   
could not go so far as a recent writer  
who regretted the termination of the    
,boer ,war because it interrupted the   
evolution of tactical science1 but it is
 undoubtedly true that the growing      
aversion to war1 the intense dislike to 
the sacrifice of human life1 creates an 

atmosphere unfavourable to the          
development of high military genius2    
because great military reputations in   
times past have generally been acquired 
by men who had no such scruples1 but who
 treated the material of their armies as
 pawns to be freely sacrificed to the   
attainment of victory4  ,then there is  
the region of statesmanship2 and here it
 is abundantly clear that the social    
conditions of the day1 the democratic   
current which runs with increasing      
spirit in political channels1 is        
unfavourable to the development of      
individual genius4 ,the prize falls to  
the sagacious opportunist2 the statesman
 is less and less of a navigator1 and   
more and more of a pilot1 in times when 
popular feeling is conciliated and      
interpreted rather than inspired and    
guided4 ,to be far-seeing and daring is 
a disadvantage2 the most approved leader
 is the man who can harmonise discordant
 sections1 and steer round obvious and  
pressing difficulties4 ,geniality and   

bonhomie are more valuable qualities    
than prescience or nobility of aim4 ,the
 more representative that government    
becomes1 the more does originality give 
place to malleability4 ,the more fluid  
that the conceptions of a statesman are1
 the greater that his adaptability is1  
the more acceptable he becomes4 ,since  
,lord ,beaconsfield1 with all his       
trenchant mystery1 and ,mr4 ,gladstone1 
with his voluble candour1 there have    
been no figures of unquestioned         
supremacy on the political stage4 ,even 
so1 the effect in both cases was to a   
great extent the effect of personality4 
,the further that these two men retire  
into the past1 the more that they are   
judged by the written record1 the more  
does the tawdriness of ,lord            
,beaconsfield's mind1 his absence of    
sincere convictions appear1 as well as  
the pedestrianism of ,mr4 ,gladstone's  
mind1 and his lack of critical          
perception4 ,i have heard ,mr4          
,gladstone speak1 and on one occasion ,i

 had the task of reporting for a daily  
paper a private oration on a literary   
subject4 ,i was thrilled to the very    
marrow of my being by the address4 ,the 
parchment pallor of the orator1 his     
glowing and blazing eyes1 his leonine   
air1 the voice that seemed to have a    
sort of physical effect on the nerves1  
his great sweeping gestures1 all held   
the audience spellbound4 ,i felt at the 
time that ,i had never before realised  
the supreme and vital importance of the 
subject on which he spoke4 ,but when ,i 
tried to reconstruct from the ashes of  
my industrious notes the mental         
conflagration which ,i had witnessed1 ,i
 was at a complete loss to understand   
what had happened4 ,the records were not
 only dull1 they seemed essentially     
trivial1 and almost overwhelmingly      
unimportant4 ,but the magic had been    
there4 ,apart from the substance1 the   
performance had been literally          
enchanting4 ,i do not honestly believe  
that ,mr4 ,gladstone was a man of great 

intellectual force1 or even of very deep
 emotions4 ,he was a man of             
extraordinarily vigorous and robust     
brain1 and he was a supreme oratorical  
artist4  ,there is intellect1 charm1    
humour in abundance in the parliamentary
 forces2 there was probably never a time
 when there were so many able and       
ambitious men to be found in the rank   
and file of parliamentarians4 ,but that 
is not enough4 ,there is no supremely   
impressive and commanding figure on the 
stage2 greatness seems to be distributed
 rather than concentrated2 but probably 
neither this1 nor political conditions1 
would prevent the generous recognition  
of supreme genius1 if it were there to  
recognise4  ,in art and literature1 ,i  
am inclined to believe that we shall    
look back to the ,victorian era as a    
time of great activity and high         
performance4 ,the two tendencies here   
which militate against the appearance of
 the greatest figures are1 in the first 
place1 the great accumulations of art   

and literature1 and in the second place 
the democratic desire to share those    
treasures4 ,the accumulation of         
pictures1 music1 and books makes it     
undoubtedly very hard for a new artist1 
in whatever region1 to gain prestige4   
,there is so much that is undoubtedly   
great and good for a student of art and 
literature to make acquaintance with1   
that we are apt to be content with the  
old vintages4 ,the result is that there 
are a good many artists who in a time of
 less productivity would have made      
themselves an enduring reputation1 and  
who now must be content to be recognised
 only by a few4 ,the difficulty can1 ,i 
think1 only be met by some principle of 
selection being more rigidly applied4   
,we shall have to be content to skim the
 cream of the old as well as of the new1
 and to allow the second-rate work of   
first-rate performers to sink into      
oblivion4 ,but at the same time there   
might be a great future before any      
artist who could discover a new medium  

of utterance4 ,it seems at present1 to  
take literature1 as if every form of    
human expression had been exploited4 ,we
 have the lyric1 the epic1 the satire1  
the narrative1 the letter1 the diary1   
conversation1 all embalmed in art4 ,but 
there is probably some other medium     
possible which will become perfectly    
obvious the moment it is seized upon and
 used4 ,to take an instance from        
pictorial art4 ,at present1 colour is   
only used in a genre manner1 to clothe  
some dramatic motive4 ,but there seems  
no prima facie reason why colour should 
not be used symphonically like music4   
,in music we obtain pleasure from an    
orderly sequence of vibrations1 and     
there seems no real reason why the eye  
should not be charmed with              
colour-sequences just as the ear is     
charmed with sound-sequences4 ,so in    
literature it would seem as though we   
might get closer still to the expression
 of mere personality1 by the medium of  
some sublimated form of reverie1 the    

thought blended and tinged in the       
subtlest gradations1 without the clumsy 
necessity of sacrificing the sequence of
 thought to the barbarous devices of    
metre and rhyme1 or to the still more   
childish devices of incident and drama4 
,flaubert1 it will be remembered1 looked
 forward to a time when a writer would  
not require a subject at all1 but would 
express emotion and thought directly    
rather than pictorially4 ,to utter the  
unuttered thought--that is really the   
problem of literature in the future2 and
 if a writer could be found to free     
himself from all stereotyped forms of   
expression1 and to give utterance to the
 strange texture of thought and fancy1  
which differentiates each single        
personality so distinctly1 so           
integrally1 from other personalities1   
and which we cannot communicate to our  
dearest and nearest1 he might enter upon
 a new province of art4  ,but the second
 tendency which at the present moment   
dominates writers is1 as ,i have said1  

the rising democratic interest in the   
things of the mind4 ,this is at present 
a very inchoate and uncultivated        
interest3 but in days of cheap          
publication and large audiences it      
dominates many writers disastrously4    
,the temptation is a grievous one--to   
take advantage of a market--not to      
produce what is absolutely the best1 but
 what is popular and effective4 ,it is  
not a wholly ignoble temptation4 ,it is 
not only the temptation of wealth1      
though in an age of comfort1 which      
values social respectability so highly1 
wealth is a great temptation4 ,but the  
temptation is rather to gauge success by
 the power of appeal4 ,if a man has     
ideas at all1 he is naturally anxious to
 make them felt2 and if he can do it    
best by spreading his ideas rather      
thinly1 by making them attractive to    
enthusiastic people of inferior         
intellectual grip1 he feels he is doing 
a noble work4 ,the truth is that in     
literature the democracy desires not    

ideas but morality4 ,all the best-known 
writers of the ,victorian age have been 
optimistic moralists1 ,browning1        
,ruskin1 ,carlyle1 ,tennyson4 ,they have
 been admired because they concealed    
their essential conventionality under a 
slight perfume of unorthodoxy4 ,they all
 in reality pandered to the complacency 
of the age1 in a way in which ,byron1   
,wordsworth1 ,shelley1 and ,keats did   
not pander4 ,the democracy loves to be  
assured that it is generous1            
high-minded1 and sensible4 ,it is in    
reality timid1 narrow-minded1 and       
,pharisaical4 ,it hates independence and
 originality1 and loves to believe that 
it adores both4 ,it loves ,mr4 ,kipling 
because he assures them that vulgarity  
is not a sin2 it loves ,mr4 ,bernard    
,shaw because he persuades them that    
they are cleverer than they imagined4   
,the fact is that great men1 in         
literature at all events1 must be       
content1 at the present time1 to be     
unrecognised and unacclaimed4 ,they must

 be content to be of the happy company  
of whom ,mr4 ,swinburne writes3--       
,in the garden of death1 where the      
singers1 whose names are deathless1     
,one with another make music unheard of 
men4   ,then there is the region of     
,science1 and here ,i am not qualified  
to speak1 because ,i know no science1   
and have not even taught it1 as ,mr4    
,arthur ,sidgwick said4 ,i do not really
 know what constitutes greatness in     
science4 ,i suppose that the great man  
of science is the man who to a power of 
endlessly patient investigation joins a 
splendid imaginative1 or perhaps        
deductive power1 like ,newton or        
,darwin4 ,but we who stand at the       
threshold of the scientific era are     
perhaps too near the light1 and too much
 dazzled by the results of scientific   
discovery to say who is great and who is
 not great4 ,i have met several         
distinguished men of science1 and ,i    
have thought some of them to be men of  
obviously high intellectual gifts1 and  

some of them men of inert and secretive 
temperaments4 ,but that is only natural1
 for to be great in other departments   
generally implies a certain knowledge of
 the world1 or at all events of the     
thought of the world2 whereas the great 
man of science may be moving in regions 
of thought that may be absolutely       
incommunicable to the ordinary person4  
,but ,i do not suppose that scientific  
greatness is a thing which can be       
measured by the importance of the       
practical results of a discovery4 ,i    
mean that a man may hit upon some       
process1 or some treatment of disease1  
which may be of incalculable benefit to 
humanity1 and yet not be really a great 
man of science1 only a fortunate        
discoverer1 and incidentally a great    
benefactor to humanity4 ,the unknown    
discoverers of things like the screw or 
the wheel1 persons lost in the mists of 
antiquity1 could not1 ,i suppose1 be    
ranked as great men of science4 ,the    
great man of science is the man who can 

draw some stupendous inference1 which   
revolutionises thought and sets men     
hopefully at work on some problem which 
does not so much add to the convenience 
of humanity as define the laws of       
nature4 ,we are still surrounded by     
innumerable and awful mysteries of life 
and being2 the evidence which will lead 
to their solution is probably in our    
hands and plain enough1 if any one could
 but see the bearing of facts which are 
known to the simplest child4 ,there is  
little doubt1 ,i suppose1 that the      
greatest reputations of recent years    
have been made in science2 and perhaps  
when our present age has globed itself  
into a cycle1 we shall be amazed at the 
complaint that the present era is       
lacking in great men4 ,we are busy in   
looking for greatness in so many        
directions1 and we are apt to suppose1  
from long use1 that greatness is so     
inseparably connected with some form of 
human expression1 whether it be the     
utterance of thought1 or the marshalling

 of armies1 that we may be overlooking a
 more stable form of greatness1 which   
will be patent to those that come after4
 ,my own belief is that the condition of
 science at the present day answers best
 to the conditions which we have learnt 
to recognise in the past as the fruitful
 soil of greatness4 ,i mean that when we
 put our finger1 in the past1 on some   
period which seems to have been         
producing great work in a great way1 we 
generally find it in some knot or school
 of people1 intensely absorbed in what  
they were doing1 and doing it with a    
whole-hearted enjoyment1 loving the work
 more than the rewards of it1 and       
indifferent to the pursuit of fame4     
,such it seems to me is the condition of
 science at the present time1 and it is 
in science1 ,i am inclined to think1    
that our heroes are probably to be      
found4  ,i do not1 then1 feel at all    
sure that we are lacking in great men1  
though it must be admitted that we are  
lacking in men whose supremacy is       

recognised4 ,i suppose we mean by a     
great man one who in some region of     
human performance is confessedly        
pre-eminent2 and he must further have a 
theory of his own1 and a power of       
pursuing that theory in the face of     
depreciation and even hostility4 ,i do  
not think that great men have often been
 indifferent to criticism4 ,often1      
indeed1 by virtue of a greater          
sensitiveness and a keener perception1  
they have been profoundly affected by   
unpopularity and the sense of being     
misunderstood4 ,carlyle1 ,tennyson1     
,ruskin1 for instance1 were men of      
almost morbid sensibility1 and lived in 
sadness2 and1 on the other hand1 there  
are few great men who have not been     
affected for the worse by premature     
success4 ,the best soil for greatness to
 grow up in would seem to be an early   
isolation1 sustained against the        
disregard of the world by the affection 
and admiration of a few kindred minds4  
,then when the great man has learned his

 method and his message1 and learned too
 not to over-value the popular verdict1 
success may mature and mellow his       
powers4 ,yet of how many great men can  
this be said8 ,as a rule1 indeed1 a     
great man's best work has been done in  
solitude and disfavour1 and he has      
attained his sunshine when he can no    
longer do his best work4  ,the question 
is whether the modern conditions of life
 are unfavourable to greatness2 and ,i  
think that it must be confessed that    
they are4 ,in the first place1 we all   
know so much too about each other1 and  
there is so eager a personal curiosity  
abroad1 a curiosity about the smallest  
details of the life of any one who seems
 to have any power of performance1 that 
it encourages men to over-confidence1   
egotism1 and mannerism4 ,again1 the     
world is so much in love with novelty   
and sensation of all kinds1 that facile 
successes are easily made and as easily 
obliterated4 ,what so many people admire
 is not greatness1 but the realisation  

of greatness and its tangible rewards4  
,the result of this is that men who show
 any faculty for impressing the world   
are exploited and caressed1 are played  
with as a toy1 and as a toy neglected4  
,and then1 too1 the age is deeply       
permeated by social ambitions4 ,men love
 to be labelled1 ticketed1 decorated1   
differentiated from the crowd4          
,newspapers pander to this taste2 and   
then the ease and rapidity of movement  
tempt men to a restless variety of      
experience1 of travel1 of society1 of   
change1 which is alien to the settled   
and sober temper in which great designs 
are matured4 ,there is a story1 not     
uncharacteristic1 of modern social life1
 of a hostess who loved to assemble     
about her1 in the style of ,mrs4 ,leo   
,hunter1 notabilities small and great1  
who was reduced to presenting a young   
man who made his appearance at one of   
her gatherings as ,mr4 ----1 whose      
uncle1 you will remember1 was so        
terribly mangled in the railway accident

 at ,s----4 ,it is this feverish desire 
to be distinguished at any price which  
has its counterpart in the feverish     
desire to find objects of admiration4   
,not so can solid greatness be achieved4
  ,the plain truth is that no one can   
become great by taking thought1 and     
still less by desiring greatness4 ,it is
 not an attainable thing2 fame only is  
attainable4 ,a man must be great in his 
own quiet way1 and the greater he is1   
the less likely is he to concern himself
 with fame4 ,it is useless to try and   
copy some one else's greatness2 that is 
like trying to look like some one else's
 portrait1 even if it be a portrait by  
,velasquez4 ,not that modesty is        
inseparable from greatness2 there are   
abundance of great men who have been    
childishly and grotesquely vain2 but in 
such cases it has been a greatness of   
performance1 a marvellous faculty1 not a
 greatness of soul4 ,hazlitt says       
somewhere that modesty is the lowest of 
the virtues1 and a real confession of   

the deficiency which it indicates4 ,he  
adds that a man who underrates himself  
is justly undervalued by others4 ,this  
is a cynical and a vulgar maxim4 ,it is 
true that a great man must have a due   
sense of the dignity and importance of  
his work2 but if he is truly great1 he  
will have also a sense of relation and  
proportion1 and not forget the          
minuteness of any individual atom4 ,if  
he has a real greatness of soul1 he will
 not be apt to compare himself with     
others1 and he will be inclined to an   
even over-generous estimate of the value
 of the work of others4 ,in no respect  
was the greatness of ,d4 ,g4 ,rossetti  
more exemplified than in his almost     
extravagant appreciation of the work of 
his friends2 and it was to this royalty 
of temperament that he largely owed his 
personal supremacy4  ,i would believe   
then that the lack of conspicuous       
greatness is due at this time to the    
overabundant vitality and eagerness of  
the world1 rather than to any languor or

 listlessness of spirit4 ,the rise of   
the decadent school in art and          
literature is not the least sign of any 
indolent or corrupt deterioration4 ,it  
rather shows a desperate appetite for   
testing sensation1 a fierce hunger for  
emotional experience1 a feverish        
ambition to impress a point-of-view4 ,it
 is all part of a revolt against settled
 ways and conventional theories4 ,i do  
not mean that we can expect to find     
greatness in this direction1 for        
greatness is essentially well-balanced1 
calm1 deliberate1 and decadence is a    
sign of a neurotic and over-vitalised   
activity4  ,our best hope is that this  
excessive restlessness of spirit will   
produce a revolt against itself4 ,the   
essence of greatness is                 
unconventionality1 and restlessness is  
now becoming conventional4 ,in          
education1 in art1 in literature1 in    
politics1 in social life1 we lose       
ourselves in denunciations of the       
dreamer and the loafer4 ,we cannot bear 

to see a slowly-moving1 deliberate1     
self-contained spirit1 advancing quietly
 on its discerned path4 ,instead of     
being content to perform faithfully and 
conscientiously our allotted task1 which
 is the way in which we can best help   
the world1 we demand that every one     
should want to do good1 to be           
responsible for some one else1 to       
exhort1 urge1 beckon1 restrain1 manage4 
,that is all utterly false and hectic4  
,our aim should be patience rather than 
effectiveness1 sincerity rather than    
adaptability1 to learn rather than to   
teach1 to ponder rather than to         
persuade1 to know the truth rather than 
to create illusion1 however comforting1 
however delightful such illusion may be4
     ,,viii4 ,,shyness   ,i have no     
doubt that shyness is one of the old1   
primitive1 aboriginal qualities that    
lurk in human nature--one of the crude  
elements that ought to have been        
uprooted by civilisation1 and security1 
and progress1 and enlightened ideals1   

but which have not been uprooted1 and   
are only being slowly eliminated4 ,it is
 seen1 as all aboriginal qualities are  
seen1 at its barest among children1 who 
often reflect the youth of the world1   
and are like little wild animals or     
infant savages1 in spite of all the     
frenzied idealisation that childhood    
receives from well-dressed and amiable  
people4  ,shyness is thus like those    
little bits of woods and copses which   
one finds in a country-side that has    
long been subdued and replenished1      
turned into arable land and pasture1    
with all the wildness and the           
irregularity ploughed and combed out of 
it2 but still one comes upon some piece 
of dingle1 where there is perhaps an    
awkward tilt in the ground1 or some     
ancient excavation1 or where a          
stream-head has cut out a steep channel1
 and there one finds a scrap of the old 
forest1 a rood or two that has never    
been anything but woodland4 ,so with    
shyness2 many of our old1 savage        

qualities have been smoothed out1 or    
glazed over1 by education and           
inheritance1 and only emerge in moments 
of passion and emotion4 ,but shyness is 
no doubt the old suspicion of the       
stranger1 the belief that his motives   
are likely to be predatory and sinister2
 it is the tendency to bob the head down
 into the brushwood1 or to sneak behind 
the tree-bole on his approach4 ,one sees
 a little child1 washed and brushed and 
delicately apparelled1 with silken locks
 and clear complexion1 brought into a   
drawing-room to be admired2 one sees the
 terror come upon her2 she knows by     
experience that she has nothing to      
expect but attention1 and admiration1   
and petting2 but you will see her       
suddenly cover her face with a tiny     
hand1 relapse into dismal silence1 even 
burst into tears and refuse to be       
comforted1 till she is safely entrenched
 upon some familiar knee4  ,i have a    
breezy1 boisterous1 cheerful friend1 of 
transparent simplicity and goodness1 who

 has never known the least touch of     
shyness from his cradle1 who always     
says1 if the subject is introduced1 that
 shyness is all mere self-consciousness1
 and that it comes from thinking about  
oneself4 ,that is true1 in a limited    
degree2 but the diagnosis is no remedy  
for the disease1 because shyness is as  
much a disease as a cold in the head1   
and no amount of effort can prevent the 
attacks of the complaint2 the only      
remedy is either to avoid the occasions 
of the attacks1--and that is impossible1
 unless one is to abjure the society of 
other people for good and all2--or else 
to practise resolutely the hardening    
process of frequenting society1 until   
one gets a sort of courage out of       
familiarity4 ,yet even so1 who that has 
ever really suffered from shyness does  
not feel his heart sink as he drives up 
in a brougham to the door of some       
strange house1 and sees a grave butler  
advancing out of an unknown corridor1   
with figures flitting to and fro in the 

background2 what shy person is there who
 at such a moment would not give a      
considerable sum to be able to go back  
to the station and take the first train 
home8 ,or who again1 as he gives his    
name to a servant in some               
brightly-lighted hall1 and advances1    
with a hurried glance at his toilet1    
into a roomful of well-dressed people1  
buzzing with what ,rossetti calls a din 
of doubtful talk1 would not prefer to   
sink into the earth like ,korah1        
,dathan1 and ,abiram1 and be reckoned no
 more among the living8  ,it is recorded
 in ,tennyson's ,life that he used to   
recommend to a younger brother the      
thought of the stellar spaces1 swarming 
with constellations and traversed by    
planets at ineffable distances1 as a    
cure for shyness2 and a lady of my      
acquaintance used to endeavour as a girl
 to stay her failing heart on the       
thought of ,eternity at such moments4   
,it is all in vain2 at the urgent moment
 one cares very little about the stellar

 motions1 or the dim vistas of futurity1
 and very much indeed about the cut of  
one's coat1 and the appearance of one's 
collar1 and the glances of one's        
enemies2 the doctrines of the ,church1  
and the prospects of ultimate salvation1
 are things very light in the scales in 
comparison with the pressing necessities
 of the crisis1 and the desperate need  
to appear wholly unconcerned6  ,the wild
 and fierce shyness of childhood is     
superseded in most sensitive people1 as 
life goes on1 by a very different       
feeling--the shyness of adolescence1 of 
which the essence1 as has been well     
said1 is a shamefaced pride4 ,the       
shyness of early youth is a thing which 
springs from an intense desire to       
delight1 and impress1 and interest other
 people1 from wanting to play a far     
larger and brighter part in the lives of
 every one else than any one in the     
world plays in any one else's life4 ,who
 does not recognise1 with a feeling that
 is half contempt and half compassion1  

the sight of the eager pretentiousness  
of youth1 the intense shame of          
confessing ignorance on any point1 the  
deep desire to appear to have a stake in
 the world1 and a well-defined1         
respected position8 ,i met the other day
 a young man1 of no particular force or 
distinction1 who was standing in a      
corner at a big social gathering1       
bursting with terror and importance     
combined4 ,he was inspired1 ,i would    
fain believe1 by discerning a vague     
benevolence in my air and demeanour1 to 
fix his attention on me4 ,he had been   
staying at a house where there had been 
some important guests1 and by some      
incredibly rapid transition of eloquence
 he was saying to me in a minute or two1
 ,the ,commander-in-,chief said to me   
the other day1 and ,the ,archbishop     
pointed out to me a few days ago1       
giving1 as personal confidences1 scraps 
of conversation which he had no doubt   
overheard as an unwelcome adjunct to a  
crowded smoking-room1 with the busy and 

genial elders wondering when the boys   
would have the grace to go to bed4 ,my  
heart bled for him as ,i saw the        
reflection of my own pushing and        
pretentious youth1 and ,i only desired  
that the curse should not fall upon him 
which has so often fallen upon myself1  
to recall ineffaceably1 with a blush    
that still mantles my cheek in the      
silence and seclusion of my bedroom1 in 
a wakeful hour1 the thought of some such
 piece of transparent and ridiculous    
self-importance1 shamefully uttered by  
myself1 in a transport of ambitious     
vanity1 long years ago4 ,how out of     
proportion to the offence is the        
avenging phantom of memory which dogs   
one through the years for such          
stupidities6 ,i remember that as a      
youthful undergraduate ,i went to stay  
in the house of an old family friend in 
the neighbourhood of ,cambridge4 ,the   
only other male guest was a grim and    
crusty don1 sharp and trenchant in      
speech1 and with a determination to keep

 young men in their place4 ,at          
,cambridge he would have taken no notice
 whatever of me2 but there1 on alien    
ground1 with some lurking impulse of    
far-off civility1 he said to me when the
 ladies retired1 ,i am going to have a  
cigar2 you know your way to the         
smoking-room8 ,i did not myself smoke in
 those days1 so foolish was ,i and      
innocent2 but recalling1 ,i suppose1    
some similar remark made by an elderly  
and genial non-smoker under the same    
circumstances1 ,i said pompously--,i can
 hardly bring myself even now to write  
the words--,i don't smoke1 but ,i will  
come and sit with you for the pleasure  
of a talk4 ,he gave a derisive snort1   
looked at me and said1 ,what6 not       
allowed to smoke yet8 ,pray don't       
trouble to come on my account4 ,it was  
not a genial speech1 and it made me     
feel1 as it was intended to do1         
insupportably silly4 ,i did not make    
matters better1 ,i recollect1 on the    
following day1 when on returning to     

,cambridge ,i offered to carry his bag  
up from the station1 for he insisted on 
walking4 ,he refused testily1 and no    
doubt thought me1 as in fact ,i was1 a  
very spiritless young man4  ,i remember1
 too1 another incident of the same kind1
 happening about the same time4 ,i was  
invited by a fellow-undergraduate to    
come to tea in his rooms1 and to meet   
his people4 ,after tea1 in the lightness
 of his heart1 my friend performed some 
singular antics1 such as standing on his
 head like a clown1 and falling over the
 back of his sofa1 alighting on his     
feet4 ,i1 who would not have executed   
such gambols for the world in the       
presence of the fairer sex1 but anxious 
in an elderly way to express my sympathy
 with the performer1 said1 with what was
 meant to be a polite admiration3 ,i    
can't think how you do that6 ,upon which
 a shrewd and trenchant maiden-aunt who 
was present1 and was delighting in the  
exuberance of her nephew1 said to me    
briskly1 ,mr4 ,benson1 have you never   

been young8 ,i should be ashamed to say 
how often since ,i have arranged a neat 
repartee to that annoying question4 ,at 
the same time ,i think that the         
behaviour both of the don and the aunt  
was distinctly unjust and unadvisable4  
,i am sure that the one way to train    
young people out of the miseries of     
shyness is for older people never to    
snub them in public1 or make them appear
 in the light of a fool4 ,such snubs    
fall plentifully and naturally from     
contemporaries4 ,an elder person is     
quite within his rights in inflicting a 
grave and serious remonstrance in       
private4 ,i do not believe that young   
people ever resent that1 if at the same 
time they are allowed to defend         
themselves and state their case4 ,but a 
merciless elder who inflicts a public   
mortification is terribly unassailable  
and impregnable4 ,for the shy person1   
who is desperately anxious to bear a    
sympathetic part1 is quite incapable of 
retort2 and that is why such assaults   

are unpardonable1 because they are the  
merest bullying4  ,the nicest people    
that ,i have known in life have been the
 people of kindly and sensible natures1 
who have been thoroughly spoilt as      
children1 encouraged to talk1 led to    
expect not only toleration1 but active  
kindness and sympathy from all4 ,the    
worst of it is that such kindness is    
generally reserved for pretty and       
engaging children1 and it is the        
awkward1 unpleasing1 ungainly child who 
gets the slaps in public4 ,but1 as in   
,tennyson-,turner's pretty poem of      
,letty's ,globe1 a child's hand should  
be welcome at all frontiers4 ,only      
deliberate rudeness and insolence on the
 part of children should be publicly    
rebuked2 and as a matter of fact both   
rudeness and insolence are far oftener  
the result of shyness than is easily    
supposed4  ,after the shyness of        
adolescence there often follows a       
further stage4 ,the shy person has      
learnt a certain wisdom2 he becomes     

aware how easily he detects             
pretentiousness in other people1 and    
realises that there is nothing to be    
gained by claiming a width of experience
 which he does not possess1 and that the
 being unmasked is even more painful    
than feeling deficient and ill-equipped4
 ,then too he learns to suspect that    
when he has tried to be impressive1 he  
has often only succeeded in being       
priggish2 and the result is that he     
falls into a kind of speechlessness1    
comforting himself1 as he sits mute and 
awkward1 unduly elongated1 and with     
unaccountable projections of limb and   
feature1 that if only other people were 
a little less self-absorbed1 had the    
gift of perceiving hidden worth and real
 character1 and could pierce a little   
below the surface1 they would realise   
what reserves of force and tenderness   
lay beneath the heavy shapelessness of  
which he is still conscious4 ,then is   
the time for the shy person to apply    
himself to social gymnastics4 ,he is not

 required to be voluble2 but if he will 
practise bearing a hand1 seeing what    
other people need and like1 carrying on 
their line of thought1 constructing     
small conversational bridges1 asking the
 right questions1 perhaps simulating an 
interest in the pursuits of others which
 he does not naturally feel1 he may     
unloose the burden from his back4 ,then 
is the time to practise a sympathetic   
smile1 or better still to allow oneself 
to indicate and even express the        
sympathy one feels2 and the             
experimentalist will soon become aware  
how welcome such unobtrusive sympathy   
is4 ,he will be amazed at first to find 
that1 instead of being tolerated1 he    
will be confided in2 he will be regarded
 as a pleasant adjunct to a party1 and  
he will soon have the even pleasanter   
experience of finding that his own      
opinions and adventures1 if they are not
 used to cap and surpass the opinions   
and adventures of others1 but to elicit 
them1 will be duly valued4 ,yet1 alas1 a

 good many shy people never reach that  
stage1 but take refuge in a critical and
 fastidious attitude4 ,i had an elderly 
relative of this kind--who does not know
 the type8--who was a man of wide       
interests and accurate information1 but 
a perfect terror in the domestic circle4
 ,he was too shy to mingle in general   
talk1 but sat with an air of acute      
observation1 with a dry smile playing   
over his face2 later on1 when the circle
 diminished1 it pleased him to retail   
the incautious statements made by       
various members of the party1 and       
correct them with much acerbity4 ,there 
are few things more terrific than a man 
who is both speechless and              
distinguished4 ,i have known several    
such1 and their presence lies like a    
blight over the most cheerful party4 ,it
 is unhappily often the case that       
shyness is apt to exist side by side    
with considerable ability1 and a shy man
 of this type regards distinction as a  
kind of defensive armour1 which may     

justify him in applying to others the   
contempt which he has himself been      
conscious of incurring4 ,one of the most
 disagreeable men ,i know is a man of   
great ability1 who was bullied in his   
youth4 ,the result upon him has been    
that he tends to believe that most      
people are inspired by a vague          
malevolence1 and he uses his ability and
 his memory1 not to add to the pleasure 
of a party1 but to make his own power   
felt4 ,i have seen this particular man  
pass from an ungainly speechlessness    
into brutal onslaughts on inoffensive   
persons2 and it is one of the most      
unpleasant transformations in the world4
 ,on the other hand1 the modest and     
amiable man of distinction is one of the
 most agreeable figures it is possible  
to encounter4 ,he is kind and           
deferential1 and the indulgent deference
 of a distinguished man is worth its    
weight in gold4  ,i was lately told a   
delightful story of a great statesman   
staying with a humble and anxious host1 

who had invited a party of simple and   
unimportant people to meet the great    
man4 ,the statesman came in late for    
dinner1 and was introduced to the party2
 he made a series of old-fashioned bows 
in all directions1 but no one felt in a 
position to offer any observations4 ,the
 great man1 at the conclusion of the    
ceremony1 turned to his host1 and said1 
in tones that had often thrilled a      
listening senate3 ,what very convenient 
jugs you have in your bedrooms6 ,they   
pour well6 ,the social frost broke up2  
the company were delighted to find that 
the great man was interested in mundane 
matters of a kind on which every one    
might be permitted to have an opinion1  
and the conversation1 starting from the 
humblest conveniences of daily life1    
melted insensibly into more liberal     
subjects4 ,the fact is that1 in ordinary
 life1 kindness and simplicity are      
valued far more than brilliance2 and the
 best brilliance is that which throws a 
novel and lambent light upon ordinary   

topics1 rather than the brilliance which
 disports itself in unfamiliar and      
exalted regions4 ,the hero only ceases  
to be a hero to his valet if he is too  
lofty-minded to enter into the workings 
of his valet's mind1 and cannot duly    
appraise the quality of his services4   
,and then1 too1 to go back a little1    
there are certain defects1 after all1   
which are appropriate at different times
 of life4 ,a certain degree of shyness  
and even awkwardness is not at all a    
disagreeable thing--indeed it is rather 
a desirable quality--in the young4 ,a   
perfectly self-possessed and voluble    
young man arouses in one a vague sense  
of hostility1 unless it is accompanied  
by great modesty and ingenuousness4 ,the
 artless prattler1 who1 in his teens1   
has an opinion on all subjects1 and     
considers that opinion worth expressing1
 is pleasant enough1 and saves one some 
embarrassment2 but such people1 alas1   
too often degenerate into the bores of  
later life4 ,if a man's opinion is      

eventually going to be worth anything1  
he ought1 ,i think1 to pass through a   
tumultuous and even prickly stage1 when 
he believes that he has an opinion1 but 
cannot find the aplomb to formulate it4 
,he ought to be feeling his way1 to be  
in a vague condition of revolt against  
what is conventional4 ,this is likely to
 be true not only in his dealings with  
his elders1 but also in his dealings    
with his contemporaries4 ,young people  
are apt to regard a youthful            
doctrinaire1 who has an opinion on      
everything1 with sincere abhorrence4 ,he
 bores them1 and to the young boredom is
 not a condition of passive suffering1  
it is an acute form of torture4         
,moreover1 the stock of opinions which a
 young man holds are apt to be          
parrot-cries repeated without any       
coherence from talks overheard and books
 skimmed4 ,but in a modest and ingenuous
 youth1 filled to the brim with eager   
interest and alert curiosity1 a certain 
deference is an adorable thing1 one of  

the most delicate of graces2 and it is a
 delightful task for an older person1   
who feels the sense of youthful charm1  
to melt stiffness away by kindly irony  
and gentle provocation1 as ,socrates did
 with his sweet-natured and modest      
boy-friends1 so many centuries ago4     
,the aplomb of the young generally means
 complacency2 but one who is young and  
shy1 and yet has the grace to think     
about the convenience and pleasure of   
others1 can be the most perfect         
companion in the world4 ,one has then a 
sense of the brave and unsophisticated  
freshness of youth1 that believes all   
things and hopes all things1 the bloom  
of which has not been rubbed away by the
 rough touch of the world4 ,it is only  
when that shyness is prolonged beyond   
the appropriate years1 when it leaves a 
well-grown and hard-featured man gasping
 and incoherent1 jerky and ungracious1  
that it is a painful and disconcerting  
deformity4 ,the only real shadow of     
early shyness is the quite              

disproportionate amount of unhappiness  
that conscious gaucherie brings with it4
 ,two incidents connected with a        
ceremony most fruitful in nervousness   
come back to my mind4  ,when ,i was an  
,eton boy1 ,i was staying with a country
 squire1 a most courteous old gentleman 
with a high temper4 ,the first morning1 
,i contrived to come down a minute or   
two late for prayers4 ,there was no     
chair for me4 ,the ,squire suspended his
 reading of the ,bible with a deadly    
sort of resignation1 and made a gesture 
to the portly butler4 ,that functionary 
rose from his own chair1 and with loudly
 creaking boots carried it across the   
room for my acceptance4 ,i sat down1    
covered with confusion4 ,the butler     
returned2 and two footmen1 who were     
sitting on a little form1 made reluctant
 room for him4 ,the butler sat down on  
one end of the form1 unfortunately      
before his equipoise1 the second        
footman1 had taken his place at the     
other end4 ,the result was that the form

 tipped up1 and a cataract of flunkies  
poured down upon the floor4 ,there was a
 ghastly silence2 then the ,gadarene    
herd slowly recovered itself1 and       
resumed its place4 ,the ,squire read the
 chapter in an accent of suppressed     
fury1 while the remainder of the party1 
with handkerchiefs pressed to their     
faces1 made the most unaccountable      
sounds and motions for the rest of the  
proceeding4 ,i was really comparatively 
guiltless1 but the shadow of that horrid
 event sensibly clouded the whole of my 
visit4  ,i was only a spectator of the  
other event4 ,we had assembled for      
prayers in the dimly-lighted hall of the
 house of a church dignitary1 and the   
chapter had begun1 when a man of almost 
murderous shyness1 who was a guest1     
opened his bedroom door and came down   
the stairs4 ,our host suspended his     
reading4 ,the unhappy man came down1    
but1 instead of slinking to his place1  
went and stood in front of the fire1    
under the impression that the           

proceedings had not taken shape1 and    
addressed some remarks upon the weather 
to his hostess4 ,in the middle of one of
 his sentences1 he suddenly divined the 
situation1 on seeing the row of servants
 sitting in a thievish corner of the    
hall4 ,he took his seat with the air of 
a man driving to the guillotine1 and ,i 
do not think ,i ever saw any one so much
 upset as he was for the remainder of   
his stay4 ,of course it may be said that
 a sense of humour should have saved a  
man from such a collapse of moral force1
 but a sense of humour requires to be   
very strong to save a man from the sense
 of having made a conspicuous fool of   
himself4  ,i would add one more small   
reminiscence1 of an event from which ,i 
can hardly say with honesty that ,i have
 yet quite recovered1 although it took  
place nearly thirty years ago4 ,i went1 
as a schoolboy1 with my parents1 to stay
 at a very big country house1 the kind  
of place to which ,i was little used1   
where the advent of a stately footman to

 take away my clothes in the morning    
used to fill me with misery4 ,the first 
evening there was a big dinner-party4 ,i
 found myself sitting next my delightful
 and kindly hostess1 my father being on 
the other side of her4 ,all went well   
till dessert1 when an amiable1          
long-haired spaniel came to my side to  
beg of me4 ,i had nothing but grapes on 
my plate1 and purely out of compliment  
,i offered him one4 ,he at once took it 
in his mouth1 and hurried to a fine     
white fur rug in front of the hearth1   
where he indulged in some unaccountable 
convulsions1 rolling himself about and  
growling in an ecstasy of delight4 ,my  
host1 an irascible man1 looked round1   
and then said3 ,who the devil has given 
that dog a grape8 ,he added to my       
father1 by way of explanation1 ,the fact
 is that if he can get hold of a grape1 
he rolls it on that rug1 and it is no   
end of a nuisance to get the stain out4 
,i sat crimson with guilt1 and was just 
about to falter out a confession1 when  

my hostess looked up1 and1 seeing what  
had happened1 said1 ,it was me1         
,frank--,i forgot for the moment what ,i
 was doing4 ,my gratitude for this      
angelic intervention was so great that  
,i had not even the gallantry to own up1
 and could only repay my protectress    
with an intense and lasting devotion4 ,i
 have no doubt that she explained       
matters afterwards to our host2 and ,i  
contrived to murmur my thanks later in  
the evening4 ,but the shock had been a  
terrible one1 and taught me not only    
wisdom1 but the ,christian duty of      
intervening1 if ,i could1 to save the   
shy from their sins and sufferings4     
,taught by the ,power that pities me1   
,i learn to pity them4   ,but the       
consideration that emerges from these   
reminiscences is the somewhat           
bewildering one1 that shyness is a thing
 which seems to be punished1 both by    
immediate discomfort and by subsequent  
fantastic remorse1 far more heavily than
 infinitely more serious moral lapses4  

,the repentance that follows sin can    
hardly be more poignant than the        
agonising sense of guilt which steals   
over the waking consciousness on the    
morning that follows some such social   
lapse4 ,in fact it must be confessed    
that most of us dislike appearing fools 
far more than we dislike feeling knaves2
 so that one wonders whether one does   
not dread the ridicule and disapproval  
of society more than one dreads the     
sense of a lapse from morality2 the     
philosophical outcome of which would    
seem to be that the verdict of society  
upon our actions is at the base of      
morality4 ,we may feel assured that the 
result of moral lapses will ultimately  
be that we shall have to face the wrath 
of our ,creator2 but one hopes that side
 by side with justice will be found a   
merciful allowance for the force of     
temptation4 ,but the final judgment is  
in any case not imminent1 while the     
result of a social lapse is that we have
 to continue to face a disapproving and 

even a contemptuous circle1 who will    
remember our failure with malicious     
pleasure1 and whose sense of justice    
will not be tempered by any appreciable 
degree of mercy4 ,here again is a       
discouraging circumstance1 that when we 
call to mind some similarly compromising
 and grotesque adventure in the life of 
one of our friends1 in spite of the fact
 that we well know the distress that the
 incident must have caused him1 we still
 continue to hug1 and even to repeat1   
our recollection of the occasion with a 
rich sense of joy4 ,is it that we do not
 really desire the peace and joy of     
others8 ,it would seem so4 ,how many of 
us are not conscious of feeling         
extremely friendly and helpful when our 
friend is in sorrow1 or difficulty1 or  
discredit1 and yet of having no taste   
for standing by and applauding when our 
friend is joyful and successful6 ,there 
is nothing1 it seems1 that we can render
 to our friend in the latter case1      
except the praise of which he has       

already had enough6  ,it seems then that
 the process of anatomising the nature  
and philosophy of shyness only ends in  
stripping off1 one by one1 as from an   
onion1 the decent integuments of the    
human spirit1 and revealing it every    
moment more and more in its native      
rankness4 ,let me forbear1 consoling    
myself with the thought that the        
qualities of human beings are not meant 
to be taken up one by one1 like coins   
from a tray1 and scrutinised2 but that  
what matters is the general effect1 the 
blending1 the grouping1 the mellowed    
surface1 the warped line4 ,i was only   
yesterday in an old church1 where ,i saw
 an ancient font-cover--a sort of carved
 extinguisher--and some dark panels of a
 rood-screen4 ,they had been1 both cover
 and panels1 coarsely and brightly      
painted and gilt2 and1 horrible to      
reflect1 it flashed upon me that they   
must have once been both glaring and    
vulgar4 ,yet to-day the dim richness of 
the effect1 the dints1 the scaling-off  

of the flakes1 the fading of the        
pigment1 the dulling of the gold1 were  
incomparable2 and ,i began to wonder if 
perhaps that was not what happened to us
 in life2 and that though we foolishly  
regretted the tarnishing of the bright  
surfaces of soul and body with our      
passions and tempers and awkwardnesses  
and feeblenesses1 yet perhaps it was1   
after all1 that we were taking on an    
unsuspected beauty1 and making ourselves
 fit1 some far-off day1 for the         
,communion of ,saints6     ,,ix4        
,,equality   ,it is often said that the 
,anglo-,saxon races suffer from a lack  
of ideals1 that they do not hold enough 
things sacred4 ,but there is assuredly  
one thing which the most elementary and 
barbarous ,anglo-,saxon holds sacred1   
beyond creed and ,decalogue and fairplay
 and morality1 and that is property4 ,at
 inquests1 for instance1 it may be noted
 how often inquiries are solicitously   
made1 not whether the deceased had      
religious difficulties or was           

disappointed in love1 but whether he had
 any financial worries4 ,we hold our own
 property to be very sacred indeed1 and 
our respect for other men's rights in   
the matter is based on the fact that we 
wish our own rights to be respected4 ,if
 ,i were asked what other ideals were   
held widely sacred in ,england and      
,america ,i should find it very         
difficult to reply4 ,i think that there 
is a good deal of interest taken in     
,america in education and culture2      
whereas in ,england ,i do not believe   
that there is very much interest taken  
in either2 almost the only thing which  
is valued in ,england1 romantically1 and
 with a kind of enthusiasm1 besides     
property1 is social distinction2 the    
democracy in ,england is sometimes said 
to be indignant at the existence of so  
much social privilege2 the word class is
 said to be abhorrent to the democrat2  
but the only classes that he detests are
 the classes above him in the social    
scale1 and the democrat is extremely    

indignant if he is assigned to a social 
station which he considers to be below  
his own4 ,i have met democrats who      
despise and contemn the social tradition
 of the so-called upper classes1 but ,i 
have never met a democrat who is not    
much more infuriated if it is supposed  
that he has not social traditions of his
 own vastly superior to the social      
traditions of the lowest grade of       
precarious mendicity4 ,the reason why   
socialism has never had any great hold  
in ,england is because equality is only 
a word1 and in no sense a real sentiment
 in ,england4 ,the reason why members of
 the lowest class in ,england are not as
 a rule convinced socialists is because 
their one ambition is to become members 
of the middle-class1 and to have        
property of their own2 and while the    
sense of personal possession is so      
strong as it is1 no socialism worthy of 
the name has a chance4 ,it is possible  
for any intelligent1 virtuous1 and      
capable member of the lower class to    

transfer himself to the middle class2   
and once there he does not favour any   
system of social equality4 ,socialism   
can never prevail as a political system1
 until we get a majority of             
disinterested men1 who do not want to   
purchase freedom from daily work by     
acquiring property1 and who desire the  
responsibility rather than the influence
 of administrative office4 ,but         
administrative office is looked upon in 
,england as an important if indirect    
factor in acquiring status and personal 
property for oneself and one's friends4 
,i am myself a sincere believer in      
socialism2 that is to say1 ,i do not    
question the right of society to deprive
 me of my private property if it chooses
 to do so4 ,it does choose to do so to a
 certain extent through the medium of   
the income-tax4 ,such property as ,i    
possess has1 ,i think it as well to     
state1 been entirely acquired by my own 
exertions4 ,i have never inherited a    
penny1 or received any money except what

 ,i have earned4 ,i am quite willing to 
admit that my work was more highly paid 
than it deserved2 but ,i shall continue 
to cling tenaciously to that property   
until ,i am convinced that it will be   
applied for the benefit of every one2 ,i
 should not think it just if it was     
taken from me for the benefit of the    
idle and incompetent2 and ,i should be  
reluctant to part with it unless ,i felt
 sure that it would pass into the hands 
of those who are as just-minded and     
disinterested as myself1 and be fairly  
administered4 ,i should not think it    
just if it were taken from me by people 
who intended to misuse it1 as ,i have   
misused it1 for their own personal      
gratification4  ,it was made a matter of
 merriment in the case of ,william      
,morris that he preached the doctrines  
of socialism while he was a prosperous  
manufacturer2 but ,i see that he was    
perfectly consistent4 ,there is no      
justice1 for instance1 about the        
principle of disarmament1 unless all    

nations loyally disarm at the same time4
 ,a person cannot be called upon to     
strip himself of his personal property  
for disinterested reasons1 if he feels  
that he is surrounded by people who     
would use the spoils for their own      
interest4 ,the process must be carried  
out by a sincere majority1 who may then 
coerce the selfish minority4 ,i have no 
conception what ,i should do with my    
money if ,i determined that ,i ought not
 to possess it4 ,it ought not to be     
applied to any public purpose1 because  
under a socialist regime all public     
institutions would be supported by the  
public1 and they ought not to depend    
upon private generosity4 ,still less do 
,i think that it ought to be divided    
among individuals1 because1 if they were
 disinterested persons1 they ought to   
refuse to accept it4 ,the only good     
reason ,i should have for disencumbering
 myself of my possessions would be that 
,i might set a good example of the      
simple life1 by working hard for a      

livelihood1 which is exactly what ,i do2
 and my only misfortune is that my      
earnings and the interest of my         
accumulated earnings produce a sum which
 is far larger than the average man     
ought to possess4 ,thus the difficulty  
is a very real one4 ,moreover the evil  
of personal property is that it tends to
 emphasise class-distinctions and to    
give the possessors of it a sense of    
undue superiority4 ,now ,i am democratic
 enough to maintain that ,i have no     
sense whatever of personal superiority4 
,i do not allow my possession of        
property to give me a life of vacuous   
amusement1 for the simple reason that my
 work amuses me far more than any other 
form of occupation1 ,if it is asked why 
,i tend to live by preference among what
 may be called my social equals1 ,i     
reply that the only people one is at    
ease with are the people whose social   
traditions are the same as one's own1   
for the simple reason that one does not 
then have to think about social         

traditions at all4 ,i do not think my   
social traditions are better than the   
social traditions of any other stratum  
of society1 whether it be described as  
above or below my own2 all ,i would say 
is that they are different from the     
social traditions of other strata1 and  
,i much prefer to live without having to
 consider such matters at all4 ,the     
manners of the upper middle-class to    
which scientifically ,i belong1 are     
different from the manners of the upper1
 lower-middle1 and lower class1 and ,i  
feel out of my element in the upper     
class1 just as ,i feel out of my element
 in the lower class4 ,of course if ,i   
were perfectly simple-minded and        
sincere1 this would not be so2 but1 as  
it is1 ,i am at ease with professional  
persons of my own standing2 ,i          
understand their point-of-view without  
any need of explanation2 in any class   
but my own1 ,i am aware of the constant 
strain of trying to grasp another       
point-of-view2 and to speak frankly1 it 

is not worth the trouble4 ,i do not at  
all desire to migrate out of my own     
class1 and ,i have never been able to   
sympathise with people who did4 ,the    
motive for doing so is not generally a  
good one1 though it is of course        
possible to conceive a high-minded      
aristocrat who from motives based upon  
our common humanity might desire to     
apprehend the point-of-view of an       
artisan1 or a high-minded artisan who   
for the same motive desired to apprehend
 the point-of-view of an earl4 ,but one 
requires to feel sure that this is based
 upon a strong sense of charity and     
responsibility1 and ,i can only say that
 ,i have not found that the desire to   
migrate into a different class is       
generally based upon these qualities4   
,the question is1 what ought a man who  
believes sincerely in the principle of  
equality to do in the matter1 if he is  
situated as ,i am situated8 ,what ,i    
admire and desire in life is friendly   
contact with my fellows1 interesting    

work1 leisure for following the pursuits
 ,i enjoy1 such as art and literature4  
,i honestly confess that ,i am not      
interested in what are called ,social   
,problems1 or rather ,i am not at all   
interested in the sort of people who    
study them4 ,such problems have hardly  
reached the vital stage2 they are in the
 highly technical stage1 and are mixed  
up with such things as political        
economy1 politics1 organisation1 and so 
forth1 which1 to be perfectly frank1 are
 to me blighting and dreary objects of  
study4 ,i honour profoundly the people  
who engage in such pursuits2 but life is
 not long enough to take up work1       
however valuable1 from a sense of duty1 
if one realises one's own unfitness for 
such labours4 ,i wish with all my heart 
that all classes cared equally for the  
things which ,i love4 ,i should like to 
be able to talk frankly and unaffectedly
 about books1 and interesting people1   
and the beauties of nature1 and abstract
 topics of a mild kind1 with any one ,i 

happened to meet4 ,but1 as a rule1 to   
speak frankly1 ,i find that people of   
what ,i must call the lower class are   
not interested in these things2 people  
in what ,i will call the upper class are
 faintly interested1 in a horrible and  
condescending way1 in them--which is    
worse than no interest at all4 ,a good  
many people in my own class are         
impatient of them1 and think of them as 
harmless recreations2 ,i fall back upon 
a few like-minded friends1 with whom ,i 
can talk easily and unreservedly of such
 things1 without being thought priggish 
or donnish or dilettanteish or          
unintelligible4 ,the subjects in which  
,i find the majority of people          
interested are personal gossip1 money1  
success1 business1 politics4 ,i love    
personal gossip1 but that can only be   
enjoyed in a circle well acquainted with
 each other's faults and foibles2 and ,i
 do not sincerely care for talking about
 the other matters ,i have mentioned4   
,hitherto ,i have always had a certain  

amount of educational responsibility1   
and that has furnished an abundance of  
material for pleasant talk and          
interesting thoughts2 but then ,i have  
always suffered from the ,anglo-,saxon  
failing of disliking responsibility     
except in the case of those for whom    
one's efforts are definitely pledged on 
strict business principles4 ,i cannot   
deliberately assume a sense of          
responsibility towards people in        
general2 to do that implies a sense of  
the value of one's own influence and    
example1 which ,i have never possessed2 
and1 indeed1 ,i have always heartily    
disliked the manifestation of it in     
others4 ,indeed1 ,i firmly believe that 
the best and most fruitful part of a    
man's influence1 is the influence of    
which he is wholly unconscious2 and ,i  
am quite sure that no one who has a     
strong sense of responsibility to the   
world in general can advance the cause  
of equality1 because such a sense       
implies at all events a consciousness of

 moral superiority4 ,moreover1 my       
educational experience leads me to      
believe that one cannot do much to form 
character4 ,the most one can do is to   
guard the young against pernicious      
influences1 and do one's best to        
recommend one's own disinterested       
enthusiasms4 ,one cannot turn a violet  
into a rose by any horticultural effort2
 one can only see that the violet or the
 rose has the best chance of what is    
horribly called self-effectuation4  ,my 
own belief is that these great ideas    
like ,equality and ,justice are things  
which1 like poetry1 are born and cannot 
be made4 ,that a number of earnest      
people should be thinking about them    
shows that they are in the air2 but the 
interest felt in them is the sign and   
not the cause of their increase4 ,i     
believe that one must go forwards1      
trying to avoid anything that is        
consciously harsh or pompous or selfish 
or base1 and the great ideas will take  
care of themselves4  ,the two great     

obvious difficulties which seem to me to
 lie at the root of all schemes for     
producing a system of social equality   
are first the radical inequality of     
character1 temperament1 and equipment in
 human beings4 ,no system can ever hope 
to be a practical system unless we can  
eliminate the possibility of children   
being born1 some of them perfectly      
qualified for life and citizenship1 and 
others hopelessly disqualified4 ,if such
 differences were the result of         
environment it would be a remediable    
thing4 ,but one can have a strong1      
vigorous1 naturally temperate child born
 and brought up under the meanest and   
most sordid conditions1 and1 on the     
other hand1 a thoroughly worthless and  
detestable person may be the child of   
high-minded1 well-educated people1 with 
every social advantage4 ,my work as a   
practical educationalist enforced this  
upon me4 ,one would find a boy1 born    
under circumstances as favourable for   
the production of virtue and energy as  

any socialistic system could provide1   
who was really only fitted for the      
lowest kind of mechanical work1 and     
whose instincts were utterly gross4     
,even if the ,state could practise a    
kind of refined ,mendelism1 it would be 
impossible to guard against the         
influences of heredity4 ,if one traces  
back the hereditary influences of a     
child for ten generations1 it will be   
found that he has upwards of two        
thousand progenitors1 any one of whom   
may give him a bias4  ,and secondly1 ,i 
cannot see that any system of socialism 
is consistent with the system of the    
family4 ,the parents in a socialistic   
state can only be looked upon as brood  
stock1 and the nurture of the rising    
generation must be committed to some    
,state organisation1 if one is to secure
 an equality of environing influences4  
,of course1 this is done to a certain   
extent by the boarding-schools of the   
upper classes2 and here again my        
experience has shown me that the system1

 though a good one for the majority1 is 
not the best system invariably for types
 with marked originality--the very type 
that one most desires to propagate4     
,these are1 of course1 very crude and   
elementary objections to the socialistic
 scheme2 all that ,i say is that until  
these difficulties seem more capable of 
solution1 ,i cannot throw myself with   
any interest into the speculation2 ,i   
cannot continue in the path of logical  
deduction1 while the postulates and     
axioms remain so unsound4  ,what then   
can a man who has resources that he     
cannot wisely dispose of1 and happiness 
that he cannot impart to others1 but yet
 who would only too gladly share his    
gladness with the world1 do to advance  
the cause of the general weal8 ,must he 
plunge into activities for which he has 
no aptitude or inclination1 and which   
have as their aim objects for which he  
does not think that the world is ripe8  
,every one will remember the figure of  
,mrs4 ,pardiggle in ,bleak ,house1 that 

raw-boned lady who enjoyed hard work1   
and did not know what it was to be      
tired1 who went about rating inefficient
 people1 and boned her children's       
pocket-money for charitable objects4 ,it
 seems to me that many of the people who
 work at social reforms do so because1  
like ,mrs4 ,pardiggle1 they enjoy hard  
work and love ordering other people     
about4 ,in a society wisely and         
rationally organised1 there would be no 
room for ,mrs4 ,pardiggle at all2 the   
question is whether things must first   
pass through the ,pardiggle stage4 ,i do
 not in my heart believe it4 ,mrs4      
,pardiggle seems to me to be not part of
 the cure of the disease1 but rather one
 of the ugliest of its symptoms4 ,i     
think that she is on the wrong tack     
altogether1 and leading other people    
astray4 ,i do know some would-be social 
reformers1 whom ,i respect and          
commiserate with all my heart1 who see  
what is amiss1 and have no idea how to  
mend it1 and who lose themselves1 like  

,hamlet1 in a sort of hopeless          
melancholy about it all1 with a         
deep-seated desire to give others a kind
 of happiness which they ought to       
desire1 but which1 as a matter of fact1 
they do not desire4 ,such men are often 
those upon whom early youth broke1 like 
a fresh wave1 with an incomparable sense
 of rapture1 in the thought of all the  
beauty and loveliness of nature and art2
 and who lived for a little in a        
,paradise of delicious experiences and  
fine emotions1 believing that there must
 be some strange mistake1 and that every
 one must in reality desire what seemed 
so utterly desirable2 and then1 as life 
went on1 there fell upon these the      
shadow of the harsh facts of life2 the  
knowledge that the majority of the human
 race had no part or lot in such        
visions1 but loved rather food and drink
 and comfort and money and rude mirth2  
who did not care a pin what happened to 
other people1 or how frail and suffering
 beings spent their lives1 so long as   

they themselves were healthy and jolly4 
,then that shadow deepens and thickens1 
until the sad dreamers do one of two    
things--either immure themselves in a   
tiny scented garden of their own1 and   
try to drown the insistent noises       
without2 or1 on the other hand1 if they 
are of the nobler sort1 lose heart and  
hope1 and even forfeit their own delight
 in things that are sweet and generous  
and pleasant and pure4 ,a mournful and  
inextricable dilemma6  ,perhaps one or  
two of such visionaries1 who are made of
 sterner stuff1 have deliberately       
embarked1 hopefully and courageously1   
upon the ,pardiggle path2 they have     
tried absurd experiments1 like ,ruskin1 
in road-making and the formation of     
,guilds2 they have taken to journalism  
and committees like ,william ,morris4   
,but they have been baffled4 ,i do not  
mean to say that such lives of splendid 
renunciation may not have a deep moral  
effect2 but1 on the other hand1 it is   
little gain to humanity if a            

richly-endowed spirit deserts a piece of
 work that he can do1 to toil           
unsuccessfully at a piece of work that  
cannot yet be done at all4  ,i myself   
believe that when ,society is capable of
 using property and the better          
pleasures1 it will arise and take them  
quietly and firmly3 and as for the fine 
spirits who would try to organise things
 before they are even sorted1 well1 they
 have done a noble1 ineffectual thing1  
because they could not do otherwise2 and
 their desire to mend what is amiss is  
at all events a sign that the impulse is
 there1 that the sun has brightened upon
 the peaks before it could warm the     
valleys4  ,i was reading to-day ,the    
,irrational ,knot1 an early book by ,mr4
 ,bernard ,shaw1 whom ,i whole-heartedly
 admire because of his courage and      
good-humour and energy4 ,that book      
represents a type of the ,new ,man1 such
 as ,i suppose ,mr4 ,shaw would have us 
all to be2 the book1 in spite of its    
radiant wit1 is a melancholy one1       

because the novelist penetrates so      
clearly past the disguises of humanity1 
and takes delight in dragging the mean1 
ugly1 shuddering1 naked creature into   
the open4 ,the ,new ,man himself is     
entirely vigorous1 cheerful1            
affectionate1 sensible1 and robust4 ,he 
is afraid of nothing and shocked by     
nothing4 ,i think it would have been    
better if he had been a little more     
shocked1 not in a conventional way1 but 
at the hideous lapses and failures of   
even generous and frank people4 ,he is  
too hard and confident to be an apostle4
 ,he does not lead the flock like a     
shepherd1 but helps them along1 like    
,father-o'-,flynn1 with his stick4 ,i   
would have gone to ,conolly1 the hero of
 the book1 to get me out of a           
difficulty1 but ,i could not have       
confided to him what ,i really held     
sacred4 ,moreover the view of money1 as 
the one essential world-force1 so       
frankly confessed in the book1 puzzled  
me4 ,i do not think that money is ever  

more than a weapon in the hands of a    
man1 or a convenient screening wall1 and
 the ,new ,man ought to have neither    
weapons nor walls1 except his vigour and
 serenity of spirit4 ,again the ,new    
,man is too fond of saying what he      
thinks1 and doing what he chooses2 and1 
in the new earth1 that independent      
instinct will surely be tempered by a   
sense1 every bit as instinctive1 of the 
rights of other people4 ,but ,i suppose 
,mr4 ,shaw's point is that if you cannot
 mend the world1 you had better make it 
serve you1 as in its folly and debility 
it will1 if you bully it enough4 ,i     
suppose that ,mr4 ,shaw would say that  
the brutality of his hero is the shadow 
thrown on him by the vileness of the    
world1 and that if we were all alike    
courageous and industrious and          
good-humoured1 that shadow would        
disappear4  ,and this1 ,i suppose1 is   
after all the secret2 that the world is 
not going to be mended from without1 but
 is mending itself from within2 and thus

 that the best kind of socialism is     
really the highest individualism1 in    
which a man leaves legislation to follow
 and express1 as it assuredly does1 the 
growth of emotion1 and sets himself1 in 
his own corner1 to be as quiet and      
disinterested and kindly as he can1     
choosing what is honest and pure1 and   
rejecting what is base and vile2 and    
this is after all the socialism of      
,christ2 only we are all in such a      
hurry1 and think it more effective to   
clap a ruffian into gaol than to suffer 
his violence--the result of which       
process is to make men sympathise with  
the ruffian--while1 if we endure his    
violence1 we touch a spring in the      
hearts of ruffian and spectators alike1 
which is more fruitful of good than the 
criminal's infuriated seclusion1 and his
 just quarrel with the world4 ,of course
 the real way is that we should each of 
us abandon our own desires for private  
ease and convenience1 in the light of   
the hope that those who come after will 

be easier and happier2 whereas the      
,pardiggle reformer literally enjoys the
 presence of the refuse1 because his    
broom has something to sweep away4  ,and
 the strangest thing of all is that we  
move forward1 in a bewildered company1  
knowing that our every act and word is  
the resultant of ancient forces1 not one
 of which we can change or modify in the
 least degree1 while we live under the  
instinctive delusion1 which survives the
 severest logic1 that we can always and 
at every moment do to a certain extent  
what we choose to do4 ,what the truth is
 that connects and underlies these two  
phenomena1 we have not the least        
conception2 but meanwhile each remains  
perfectly obvious and apparently true4  
,to myself1 the logical belief is       
infinitely the more hopeful and         
sustaining of the two2 for if the       
movement of progress is in the hands of 
,god1 we are at all events taking our   
mysterious and wonderful part in a great
 dream that is being evolved1 far more  

vast and amazing than we can comprehend2
 whereas if ,i felt that it was left to 
ourselves to choose1 and that1 hampered 
as we feel ourselves to be by           
innumerable chains of circumstance1 we  
could yet indeed originate action and   
impede the underlying ,will1 ,i should  
relapse into despair before a problem   
full of sickening complexities and      
admitted failures4 ,meanwhile1 ,i do    
what ,i am given to do2 ,i perceive what
 ,i am allowed to perceive2 ,i suffer   
what is appointed for me to suffer2 but 
all with a hope that ,i may yet see the 
dawn break upon the sunlit sea1 beyond  
the dark hills of time4     ,x4 ,,the   
,,dramatic ,,sense   ,the other day ,i  
was walking along a road at ,cambridge1 
engulfed in a torrent of cloth-capped   
and coated young men all flowing one    
way--going to see or1 as it is now      
called1 to watch a match4 ,we met a     
little girl walking with her governess  
in the opposite direction4 ,there was a 
baleful light of intellect in the       

child's eye1 and a preponderance of     
forehead combined with a certain        
lankness of hair betrayed1 ,i fancy1 an 
ingenuous academical origin4 ,the girl  
was looking round her with an unholy    
sense of superiority1 and as we passed  
she said to her governess in a          
clear-cut1 complacent tone1 ,we're quite
 exceptional1 aren't we8 ,to which the  
governess replied briskly1 ,laura1 don't
 be ridiculous6 ,to which exhortation   
,laura replied with self-satisfied      
pertinacity1 ,no1 but we ,,are          
exceptional1 aren't we8  ,ah1 ,miss     
,laura1 ,i thought to myself1 you are   
one of those people with a dramatic     
sense of your own importance4 ,it will  
probably make you very happy1 and an    
absolutely insufferable person6 ,i have 
little doubt that the tiny prig was     
saying to herself1 ,i dare say that all 
these men are wondering who is the      
clever-looking little girl who is       
walking in the opposite direction to the
 match1 and has probably something      

better to do than look on at matches4   
,it is a great question whether one     
ought to wish people to nourish         
illusions about themselves1 or whether  
one ought to desire such illusions to be
 dispelled4 ,they certainly add         
immensely to people's happiness1 but on 
the other hand1 if life is an educative 
progress1 and if the aim of human beings
 is or ought to be the attainment of    
moral perfection1 then the sooner that  
these illusions are dispelled the       
better4 ,it is one of the many questions
 which depend upon the great fact as to 
whether our identity is prolonged after 
death4 ,if identity is not prolonged1   
then one would wish people to maintain  
every illusion which makes life happier2
 and there is certainly no illusion     
which brings people such supreme and    
unfailing contentment as the sense of   
their own significance in the world4    
,this illusion rises superior to all    
failures and disappointments4 ,it makes 
the smallest and simplest act seem      

momentous4 ,the world for such persons  
is merely a theatre of gazers in which  
they discharge their part appropriately 
and successfully4 ,i know several people
 who have the sense very strongly1 who  
are conscious from morning till night1  
in all that they do or say1 of an       
admiring audience2 and who1 even if     
their circle is wholly indifferent1 find
 food for delight in the consciousness  
of how skilfully and satisfactorily they
 discharge their duties4 ,i remember    
once hearing a worthy clergyman1 of no  
particular force1 begin a speech at a   
missionary meeting by saying that people
 had often asked him what was the secret
 of his smile2 and that he had always   
replied that he was unaware that his    
smile had any special quality2 but that 
if it indeed was so1 and it would be    
idle to pretend that a good many people 
had not noticed it1 it was that he      
imported a resolute cheerfulness into   
all that he did4 ,the man1 as ,i have   
said1 was not in any way distinguished1 

but there can be no doubt that the      
thought of his heavenly smile was a very
 sustaining one1 and that the sense of  
responsibility that the possession of   
such a characteristic gave him1         
undoubtedly made him endeavour to smile 
like the ,cheshire ,cat1 when he did not
 feel particularly cheerful4  ,it is    
not1 however1 common to find people make
 such a frank and candid confession of  
their superiority4 ,the feeling is      
generally kept for more or less private 
consumption4 ,the underlying            
self-satisfaction generally manifests   
itself1 for instance1 with people who   
have no real illusions1 say1 about their
 personal appearance1 in leading them to
 feel1 after a chance glance at         
themselves in a mirror1 that they really
 do not look so bad in certain lights4  
,a dull preacher will repeat to himself1
 with a private relish1 a sentence out  
of a very commonplace discourse of his  
own1 and think that that was really an  
original thought1 and that he gave it an

 impressive emphasis2 or a student will 
make a very unimportant discovery1 press
 it upon the attention of some great    
authority on the subject1 extort a      
half-hearted assent1 and will then go   
about saying1 ,i mentioned my discovery 
to ,professor ,a----2 he was quite      
excited about it1 and urged the         
immediate publication of it4 ,or a      
commonplace woman will give a tea-party1
 and plume herself upon the eclat with  
which it went off4 ,the materials are   
ready to hand in any life2 the quality  
is not the same as priggishness1 though 
it is closely akin to it2 it no doubt   
exists in the minds of many really      
successful people1 and if it is not     
flagrantly betrayed1 it is often an     
important constituent of their success4 
,but the happy part of it is that the   
dramatic sense is often freely bestowed 
upon the most inconspicuous and         
unintelligent persons1 and fills their  
lives with a consciousness of romance   
and joy4 ,it concerns itself mostly with

 public appearances1 upon however minute
 a scale1 and thus it is a rich source  
of consolation and self-congratulation4 
,even if it falls upon one who has no   
social gifts whatever1 whose circle of  
friends tends to diminish as life goes  
on1 whose invitations tend to decrease1 
it still frequently survives in a       
consciousness of being profoundly       
interesting1 and consoles itself by     
believing that under different          
circumstances and in a more perceptive  
society the fact would have received a  
wider recognition4  ,but1 after all1 as 
with many things1 much depends upon the 
way that illusions are cherished4 ,when 
this dramatic sense is bestowed upon a  
heavy-handed1 imperceptive1 egotistical 
person1 it becomes a terrible affliction
 to other people1 unless indeed the     
onlooker possesses the humorous         
spectatorial curiosity2 when it becomes 
a matter of delight to find a person    
behaving characteristically1 striking   
the hour punctually1 and being1 as ,mr4 

,bennet thought of ,mr4 ,collins1 fully 
as absurd as one had hoped4 ,it then    
becomes a pleasure1 and not necessarily 
an unkind one1 because it gives the     
deepest satisfaction to the victim1 to  
tickle the egotist as one might tickle a
 trout1 to draw him on by innocent      
questions1 to induce him to unfold and  
wave his flag high in the air4 ,i had   
once a worthy acquaintance whose        
occasional visits were to me a source of
 infinite pleasure--and ,i may add that 
,i have no doubt that they gave him a   
pleasure quite as acute--because he only
 required the simplest fly to be dropped
 on the pool1 when he came heavily to   
the top and swallowed it4 ,i have heard 
him deplore the vast size of his        
correspondence1 the endless claims made 
upon him for counsel4 ,i have heard him 
say with a fatuous smile that there were
 literally hundreds of people who day by
 day brought their pitcher of self-pity 
to be filled at his pump of sympathy3   
that he wished he could have a little   

rest1 but that he supposed that it was a
 plain duty for him to minister thus to 
human needs1 though it took it out of   
him terribly4 ,i suppose that some sort 
of experience must have lain behind this
 confession1 for my friend was a        
decidedly moral man1 and would not tell 
a deliberate untruth2 the only          
difficulty was that ,i could not        
conceive where he kept his stores of    
sympathy1 because ,i had never heard him
 speak of any subject except himself1   
and ,i suppose that his method of       
consolation1 if he was consulted1 was to
 relate some striking instance out of   
his own experience in which grace       
triumphed over nature4  ,sometimes1     
again1 the dramatic sense takes the form
 of an exaggerated self-depreciation4 ,i
 was reading the other day the life of a
 very devoted clergyman1 who said on his
 death-bed to one standing by him1 ,if  
anything is done in memory of me1 let a 
plain slab be placed on my grave with my
 initials and the date1 and the words1  

'the unworthy priest of this            
parish'--that must be all4  ,the man's  
modesty was absolutely sincere2 yet what
 a strange confusion of modesty and     
vanity after all6 ,if the humility had  
been ,,perfectly unaffected1 he would   
have felt that the man who really       
merited such a description deserved no  
memorial at all2 or again1 if he had had
 no sense of credit1 he would have left 
the choice of a memorial to any who     
might wish to commemorate him4 ,if one  
analyses the feeling underneath the     
words1 it will be seen to consist of a  
desire to be remembered1 a hope almost  
amounting to a belief that his work was 
worthy of commemoration1 coupled with a 
sincere desire not to exaggerate its    
value4 ,and yet silence would have      
attested his humility far more          
effectually than any calculated speech6 
,the dramatic sense is not a thing which
 necessarily increases as life goes on2 
some people have it from the very       
beginning4 ,i have an elderly friend who

 is engaged on a very special sort of   
scientific research of a wholly         
unimportant kind4 ,he is just as        
incapable as my sympathetic friend of   
talking about anything except his own   
interests2 ,you don't mind my speaking  
about my work8 he says with a brilliant 
smile2 you see it means so much to me4  
,and then1 after explaining some highly 
technical detail1 he will add3 ,of      
course this seems to you very minute1   
but it is work that has got to be done  
by some one2 it is only laying a little 
stone in the temple of science4 ,of     
course ,i often feel ,i should like to  
spread my wings and take a wider flight1
 but ,i do seem to have a special       
faculty for this kind of work1 and ,i   
suppose it is my duty to stick to it4   
,and he will pass his hand wearily over 
his brow1 and expound another technical 
detail4 ,he apologises ceaselessly for  
dwelling on his own work2 but in no     
place or company have ,i ever heard him 
do otherwise2 and he is certainly one of

 the happiest people ,i know4  ,but1 on 
the other hand1 it is a rather charming 
quality to find in combination with a   
certain balance of mind4 ,unless a man  
is interesting to himself he cannot     
easily be interesting to others2 there  
is a youthful and ingenuous sense of    
romance and drama which can exist side  
by side with both modesty and sympathy1 
somewhat akin to the habit common to    
imaginative children of telling         
themselves long stories in which they   
are the heroes of the tale4 ,but people 
who have this faculty are generally     
mildly ashamed of it2 they do not       
believe that their fantastic adventures 
are likely to happen4 ,they only think  
how pleasant it would be if things      
arranged themselves so4 ,it all depends 
whether such dramatisation is looked    
upon in the light of an amusement1 or   
whether it is applied in a heavy-handed 
manner to real life4 ,imaginative       
children1 who have true sympathy and    
affection as well1 generally end by     

finding the real world1 as they grow up 
into it1 such an astonishing and        
interesting place1 that their horizon   
extends1 and they apply to other people1
 to their relationships and meetings1   
the zest and interest that they formerly
 applied only to themselves4 ,the kind  
of temperament that falls a helpless    
victim to dramatic egotism is generally 
the priggish and self-satisfied man1 who
 has a fervent belief in his own        
influence1 and the duty of exercising it
 on others4 ,most of us1 one may say    
gratefully1 are kept humble by our      
failures and even by our sins4 ,if the  
path of the transgressor is hard1 the   
path of the righteous man is often      
harder4 ,if a man is born free from     
grosser temptations1 vigorous1 active1  
robust1 the chances are ten to one that 
he falls into the snare of              
self-righteousness and moral            
complacency4 ,he passes judgment on     
others1 he compares himself favourably  
with them4 ,a spice of unpopularity     

gives him a still more fatal bias1      
because he thinks that he is persecuted 
for his goodness1 when he is only       
disliked for his superiority4 ,he       
becomes content to warn people1 and if  
they reject his advice and get into     
difficulties1 he is not wholly          
ill-pleased4 ,whereas the diffident     
person1 who tremblingly assumes the     
responsibility for some one else's life1
 is beset by miserable regrets if his   
penitent escapes him1 and attributes it 
to his own mismanagement4 ,the truth is 
that moral indignation is a luxury that 
very few people can afford to indulge   
in4 ,and if it is true that a rich man  
can with difficulty enter the kingdom of
 heaven1 it is also true that the       
dramatic man finds it still more        
difficult4 ,he is impervious to         
criticism1 because he bears it with     
meekness4 ,he has so good a conscience  
that he cannot believe himself in the   
wrong4 ,if he makes an egregious        
blunder1 he says to himself with        

infinite solemnity that it is right that
 his self-satisfaction should be        
tenderly purged away1 and glories in his
 own humility4 ,a far wholesomer frame  
of mind is that of the philosopher who  
said1 when complimented on the          
mellowness that advancing years had     
brought him1 that he still reserved to  
himself the right of damning things in  
general4 ,because the truth is that the 
things which really discipline us are   
the painful1 dreary1 intolerable things 
of life1 the results of one's own       
meanness1 stupidity1 and weakness1 or   
the black catastrophes which sometimes  
overwhelm us1 and not the things which  
we piously and cheerfully accept as     
ministering to our consciousness of     
worth and virtue4  ,if ,i say that the  
dramatic failing is apt to be more      
common among the clergy than among      
ordinary mortals1 it is because the     
clerical vocation is one that tempts men
 who have this temperament strongly     
developed to enter it1 and afterwards   

provides a good deal of sustenance to   
the particular form of vanity that lies 
behind the temptation4 ,the dramatic    
sense loves public appearances and      
trappings1 processions and ceremonies4  
,the instinctive dramatist1 who is also 
a clergyman1 tends to think of himself  
as moving to his place in the sanctuary 
in a solemn progress1 with a worn       
spiritual aspect1 robed as a son of     
,aaron4 ,he likes to picture himself as 
standing in the pulpit pale with        
emotion1 his eye gathering fire as he   
bears witness to the truth or testifies 
against sin4 ,he likes to believe that  
his words and intonations have a        
thrilling quality1 a fire or a delicacy1
 as the case may be1 which scorch or    
penetrate the sin-burdened heart4 ,it   
may be thought that this criticism is   
unduly severe2 ,i do not for a moment   
say that the attitude is universal1 but 
it is commoner1 ,i am sure1 than one    
would like to believe2 and neither do ,i
 say that it is inconsistent with deep  

earnestness and vital seriousness4 ,i   
would go further1 and maintain that such
 a dramatic consciousness is a valuable 
quality for men who have to sustain at  
all a spectacular part4 ,it very often  
lends impressiveness to a man1 and      
convinces those who hear and see him of 
his sincerity2 while a man who thinks   
nothing of appearances often fails to   
convince his audience that he cares more
 for his message than for the fact that 
he is the mouthpiece of it4 ,i find it  
very difficult to say whether it is well
 for people who cherish such illusions  
about their personal impressiveness to  
get rid of such illusions1 when personal
 impressiveness is a real factor in     
their success4 ,to do a thing really    
well it is essential to have a          
substantial confidence in one's aptitude
 for the task4 ,and undoubtedly         
diffidence and humility1 however        
sincere1 are a bad outfit for a man in a
 public position4 ,i am inclined to     
think that self-confidence1 and a       

certain degree of self-satisfaction1 are
 valuable assets1 so long as a man      
believes primarily in the importance of 
what he has to say and do1 and only     
secondarily in his own power of1 and    
fitness for1 saying and doing it4       
,there is an interesting story--,i do   
not vouch for the truth of it--that used
 to be told of ,cardinal ,manning1 who  
undoubtedly had a strong sense of       
dramatic effect4 ,he was putting on his 
robes one evening in the sacristy of the
 ,cathedral at ,westminster1 when a     
noise was heard at the door1 as of one  
who was determined on forcing an        
entrance in spite of the remonstrances  
of the attendants4 ,in a moment a big1  
strongly-built person1 looking like a   
prosperous man of business1 labouring   
under a vehement and passionate emotion1
 came quickly in1 looked about him1 and 
advancing to ,manning1 poured out a     
series of indignant reproaches4 ,you    
have got hold of my boy1 he said1 with  
your hypocritical and sneaking methods2 

you have made him a ,roman ,catholic2   
you have ruined the happiness and peace 
of our home2 you have broken his        
mother's heart1 and overwhelmed us in   
misery4 ,he went on in this strain at   
some length4 ,manning1 who was standing 
in his cassock1 drew himself up in an   
attitude of majestic dignity1 and waited
 until the intruder's eloquence had     
exhausted itself1 and had ended with    
threatening gestures4 ,some of those    
present would have intervened1 but      
,manning with an air of command waved   
them back1 and then1 pointing his hand  
at the man1 he said3 ,now1 sir1 ,i have 
allowed you to have your say1 and you   
shall hear me in reply4 ,you have       
traduced ,holy ,church1 you have broken 
in upon the ,sanctuary1 you have uttered
 vile and abominable slanders against   
the ,faith2 and ,i tell you1 he added1  
pausing for an instant with flashing    
eyes and marble visage1 ,i tell you that
 within three months you will be a      
,catholic yourself4 ,he then turned     

sharply on his heel and went on with his
 preparations4 ,the man was utterly     
discomfited2 he made as though he would 
speak1 but was unable to find words2 he 
looked round1 and eventually slunk out  
of the sacristy in silence4  ,one of    
those present ventured to ask ,manning  
afterwards about the strange scene4 ,had
 the ,cardinal1 he inquired1 any sudden 
premonition that the man himself would  
adopt the ,faith in so short a time8    
,manning smiled indulgently1 putting his
 hand on the other's shoulder1 and said3
 ,ah1 my dear friend1 who shall say8    
,you see1 it was a very awkward moment1 
and ,i had to deal with the situation as
 ,i best could4  ,that was an instance  
of supreme presence of mind and great   
dramatic force2 but one is not sure     
whether it was a wholly apostolical     
method of handling the position4  ,but  
to transfer the question from the       
ecclesiastical region into the region of
 common life1 it is undoubtedly true    
that if a man or a woman has a strong   

sense of moral issues1 a deep feeling of
 responsibility and sympathy1 an anxious
 desire to help things forward1 then a  
dramatic sense of the value of manner1  
speech1 gesture1 and demeanour is a     
highly effective instrument4 ,it is     
often said that people who wield a great
 personal influence have the gift of    
making the individual with whom they are
 dealing feel that his case is the most 
interesting and important with which    
they have ever come in contact1 and of  
inspiring and maintaining a special kind
 of relationship between themselves and 
their petitioner4 ,that is no doubt a   
very encouraging thing for the applicant
 to feel1 even though he is sensible    
enough to realise that his case is only 
one among many with which his adviser is
 dealing1 and probably not the most     
significant4 ,upon such a quality as    
this the success of statesmen1 lawyers1 
physicians largely depends4 ,but where  
the dramatic sense is combined with     
egotism1 selfishness1 and indifference  

to the claims of others1 it is a        
terrible inheritance4 ,it ministers1 as 
,i have said before1 to its possessor's 
self-satisfaction2 but on the other hand
 it is a failing which goes so deep and 
which permeates so intimately the whole 
moral nature1 that its cure is almost   
impossible without the gift of what the 
,scripture calls a new heart4 ,such     
self-complacency is a fearful shield    
against criticism1 and particularly so  
because it gives as a rule so few       
opportunities for any outside person1   
however intimate1 to expose the         
obliquity of such a temperament4 ,the   
dramatic egotist is careful as a rule   
not to let his egotism appear1 but to   
profess to be1 and even to believe that 
he is1 guided by the highest motives in 
all his actions and words4 ,a candid    
remonstrance is met by a calm tolerance1
 and by the reply that the critic does  
not understand the situation1 and is    
trying to hinder rather than to help the
 development of beneficent designs4  ,i 

used to know a man of this type1 who was
 insatiably greedy of influence and     
recognition4 ,it is true that he was    
ready to help other people with money or
 advice4 ,he was wealthy1 and of a good 
position2 and he would take a great deal
 of trouble to obtain appointments for  
friends who appealed to him1 or to      
unravel a difficult situation2 though   
the object of his diligence was not to  
help his applicants1 but to obtain      
credit and power for himself4 ,he did   
not desire that they should be helped1  
but that they should depend upon him for
 help4 ,nothing could undeceive him as  
to his own motive1 because he gave his  
time and his money freely2 yet the      
result was that most of the people whom 
he helped tended to resent it in the    
end1 because he demanded services in    
return1 and was jealous of any other    
interference4 ,chateaubriand says that  
it is not true gratitude to wish to     
repay favours promptly and still less is
 it true benevolence to wish to retain a

 hold over those whom one has benefited4
  ,sometimes indeed the two strains are 
almost inextricably intertwined1 real   
and vital sympathy with others1 combined
 with an overwhelming sense of personal 
significance2 and then the problem is an
 inconceivably complicated one4 ,for ,i 
suppose it must be frankly confessed    
that the basis of the dramatic sense is 
not a very wholesome one2 it is1 of     
course1 a strong form of individualism4 
,but while it is true that we suffer    
from taking ourselves too seriously1 it 
is also possible to suffer from not     
taking ourselves seriously enough4 ,if  
effectiveness is the end of life1 there 
is no question that a strong sense of   
what we like to call responsibility1    
which is generally nothing more than a  
sense of one's own importance1          
decorously framed and glazed1 is an     
immense factor in success4 ,i myself    
cherish the heresy that effectiveness is
 very far from being the end of life1   
and that the only effectiveness that is 

worth anything is unintentional         
effectiveness4 ,i believe that a man or 
woman who is humble and sincere1 who    
loves and is loved1 is higher on the    
steps of heaven than the adroitest      
lobbyist2 but it may be that the world's
 criterion of what it admires and       
respects is the right one2 and indeed it
 is hard to see how so strong an        
instinct is implanted in the human race1
 the instinct to value strength and     
success above everything1 unless it is  
put there by our ,maker4 ,at the same   
time one cherishes the hope that there  
is a better criterion somewhere1 in the 
,divine ,mind1 in the fruitful future2  
the criterion that it is not what a man 
actually effects that matters1 but what 
he makes of the resources that are given
 him to work with4  ,the effectiveness  
of the dramatic sense is beyond         
question4 ,one can see a supreme        
instance of it in the case of the       
,christian ,science movement1 in which a
 woman of strong personality1 by        

lighting upon an idea latent in a large 
number of minds1 an idea moreover of    
real and practical vitality1 and by     
putting it in a form which has all the  
definiteness required by brains of a    
hazy and emotional order1 has contrived 
to effect an immense amount of good1    
besides amassing a colossal fortune1 and
 assuming almost ,divine pretensions1   
without being widely discredited4 ,the  
human race is1 speaking generally1 so   
anxious for any leading that it can get1
 that if a man or woman can persuade    
themselves that they have a mission to  
humanity1 and maintain a pontifical air1
 they will generally be able to attract 
a band of devoted adherents1 whose      
faith1 rising superior to both          
intelligence and common-sense1 will     
endorse almost any claim that the       
prophet or prophetess likes to advance4 
,but the danger for the prophet himself 
is great4 ,arrogance1 complacency1      
self-confidence1 all the ,pharisaical   
vices flourish briskly in such a soil4  

,he loses all sense of proportion1 all  
sense of dependence4 ,instead of being a
 humble learner in a mysterious world1  
he expects to find everything made after
 the pattern revealed to him in the     
,mount4 ,the good that he does may be   
permanent and fruitful2 but in some dark
 valley of humiliation and despair he   
will have to learn that ,god tolerates  
us and uses us2 ,he does not need us1   
,he delighteth not in any man's legs1 as
 the ,psalmist said with homely vigour4 
,to save others and be oneself a        
castaway is the terrible fate of which  
,st4 ,paul saw so clearly the           
possibility2 and thus any one who is    
conscious of the dramatic sense1 or even
 dimly suspects that it is there1 ought 
to pray very humbly to be delivered from
 it1 as he would from any other darling 
bosom-sin4 ,he ought to eschew diplomacy
 and practise frankness1 he ought to    
welcome failure and to rejoice when he  
makes humiliating mistakes4 ,he ought to
 be grateful even for palpable faults   

and weaknesses and sins and physical    
disabilities4 ,for if we have the hope  
that ,god is educating us1 is moulding a
 fair statue out of the frail and sordid
 clay1 such a faith forbids us to reject
 any experience1 however disagreeable1  
however painful1 however self-revealing 
it may be1 as of no import2 and thus we 
can grow into a truer sense of          
proportion1 till at last we may come    
to learn that ,man      ,is small1 and  
not forget that ,man is great4     ,,xi4
 ,,kelmscott ,,and ,,william ,,morris   
,i had been at ,fairford that still1    
fresh1 ,april morning1 and had enjoyed  
the sunny little piazza1 with its pretty
 characteristic varieties of pleasant   
stone-built houses1 solid ,georgian     
fronts interspersed with mullioned      
gables4 ,but the church6 ,that is a     
marvellous place2 its massive           
lantern-tower1 with solid1              
softly-moulded outlines--for the sandy  
oolite admits little fineness of        
detail--all weathered to a beautiful    

orange-grey tint1 has a mild dignity of 
its own4 ,inside it is a treasure of    
mediaevalism4 ,the screens1 the         
woodwork1 the monuments1 all rich1      
dignified1 and spacious4 ,and the glass6
 ,next to ,king's ,college ,chapel1 ,i  
suppose1 it is the noblest series of    
windows in ,england1 and the colour of  
it is incomparable4 ,azure and crimson1 
green and orange1 yet all with a firm   
economy of effect1 the robes of the     
saints set and imbedded in a fine       
intricacy of white tabernacle-work4 ,as 
to the design1 ,i hardly knew whether to
 smile or weep4 ,the splendid1 ugly     
faces of the saints1 depicted1 whether  
designedly or artlessly ,i cannot guess1
 as men of simple passions and homely   
experience1 moved me greatly1 so unlike 
the mild1 polite1 porcelain visages of  
even the best modern glass4 ,but the    
windows are as thick with demons as a   
hive with bees2 and oh6 the             
irresponsible levity displayed in these 
merry1 grotesque1 long-nosed creatures1 

some flame-coloured and long-tailed1    
some green and scaly1 some plated like  
the armadillo1 all going about their    
merciless work with infinite gusto and  
glee6 ,here one picked at the white     
breast of a languid1 tortured woman who 
lay bathed in flame2 one with a glowing 
hook thrust a lamentable big-paunched   
wretch down into a bath of molten       
liquor2 one with pleased intentness     
turned the handle of a churn1 from the  
top of which protruded the head of a    
fair-haired boy1 all distorted with pain
 and terror4 ,what could have been in   
the mind of the designer of these       
hateful scenes8 ,it is impossible to    
acquit him of a strong sense of the     
humorous4 ,did he believe that such     
things were actually in progress in some
 infernal cavern1 seven times heated8 ,i
 fear it may have been so4 ,and what of 
the effect upon the minds of the village
 folk who saw them day by day8 ,it would
 have depressed1 one would think1 an    
imaginative girl or boy into madness1 to

 dream of such things as being          
countenanced by ,god for the heathen and
 the unbaptized1 as well as for the     
cruel and sinful4 ,if the vile work had 
been represented as being done by       
cloudy1 sombre1 relentless creatures1 it
 would have been more tolerable4 ,but   
these fantastic imps1 as lively as grigs
 and full to the brim of wicked         
laughter1 are certainly enjoying        
themselves with an extremity of delight 
of which no trace is to be seen in the  
mournful and heavily lined faces of the 
faithful4 ,autres temps1 autres moeurs6 
,perhaps the simple1 coarse mental      
palates of the village folk were none   
the worse for this realistic treatment  
of sin4 ,one wonders what the saintly   
and refined ,keble1 who spent many years
 of his life as his father's curate     
here1 thought of it all4 ,probably his  
submissive and deferential mind accepted
 it as in some ecclesiastical sense     
symbolical of the merciless hatred of   
,god for the desperate corruption of    

humanity4 ,it gave me little pleasure to
 connect the personality of ,keble with 
the place1 patient1 sweet-natured1      
mystical1 serviceable as he was4 ,it    
seems hard to breathe in the austere air
 of a mind like ,keble's1 where the wind
 of the spirit blows chill down the     
narrow path1 fenced in by the high1     
uncompromising walls of ecclesiastical  
tradition on the one hand1 and stern    
,puritanism on the other4 ,an artificial
 type1 one is tempted to say6--and yet  
one ought never1 ,i suppose1 so to      
describe any flower that has blossomed  
fragrantly upon the human stock2 any    
system that seems to extend a natural   
and instinctive appeal to certain       
definite classes of human temperament4  
,i sped pleasantly enough along the low1
 rich pastures1 thick with hedgerow     
elms1 to ,lechlade1 another pretty town 
with an infinite variety of habitations4
 ,here again is a fine ancient church   
with a comely spire1 a pretty pyramis of
 stone1 as the old ,itinerary says1     

overlooking a charming gabled house1    
among walled and terraced gardens1 with 
stone balls on the corner-posts and a   
quaint pavilion1 the river running      
below2 and so on to a bridge over the   
yet slender ,thames1 where the river    
water spouted clear and fragrant into a 
wide pool2 and across the flat meadows1 
bright with kingcups1 the spire of      
,lechlade towered over the clustered    
house-roofs to the west4  ,then further 
still by a lonely ill-laid road4 ,and   
thus1 with a mind pleasantly attuned to 
beauty and a quickening pulse1 ,i drew  
near to ,kelmscott4 ,the great alluvial 
flat1 broadening on either hand1 with   
low wooded heights1 not ill-designed1 as
 ,morris said1 to the south4 ,then came 
a winding cross-track1 and presently ,i 
drew near to a straggling village1 every
 house of which had some charm and      
quality of style1 with here and there a 
high gabled dovecot1 and its wooden     
cupola1 standing up among solid barns   
and stacks4 ,here was a tiny and        

inconspicuous church1 with a small stone
 belfry2 and then the road pushed on1 to
 die away among the fields4 ,but there1 
at the very end of the village1 stood   
the house of which we were in search2   
and it was with a touch of awe1 with a  
quickening heart1 that ,i drew near to a
 place of such sweet and gracious       
memories1 a place so dear to more than  
one of the heroes of art4  ,one comes to
 the goal of an artistic pilgrimage with
 a certain sacred terror2 either the    
place is disappointing1 or it is utterly
 unlike what one anticipates4 ,i knew   
,kelmscott so well from ,rossetti's     
letters1 from ,morris's own splendid and
 loving description1 from pictures1 from
 the tales of other pilgrims1 that ,i   
felt ,i could not be disappointed2 and  
,i was not4 ,it was not only just like  
what ,i had pictured it to be1 but it   
had a delicate and natural grace of its 
own as well4 ,the house was larger and  
more beautiful1 the garden smaller and  
not less beautiful1 than ,i had         

imagined4 ,i had not thought it was so  
shy1 so rustic a place4 ,it is very     
difficult to get any clear view of the  
,manor4 ,by the road are cottages1 and a
 big building1 half storehouse1 half    
wheelwright's shop1 to serve the homely 
needs of the farm4 ,through the open    
door one could see a bench with tools2  
and planks1 staves1 spokes1             
waggon-tilts1 faggots1 were all stacked 
in a pleasant confusion4 ,then came a   
walled kitchen-garden1 with some big    
shrubs1 bay and laurustinus1 rising     
plumply within2 beyond which the grey   
house1 spread thin with plaster1 held up
 its gables and chimneys over a         
stone-tiled roof4 ,to the left1 big     
barns and byres--a farm-man leading in a
 young bull with a pole at the          
nose-ring2 beyond that1 open fields1    
with a dyke and a flood-wall of earth1  
grown over with nettles1 withered sedges
 in the watercourse1 and elms in which  
the rooks were clamorously building4 ,we
 met with the ready1 simple ,berkshire  

courtesy2 we were referred to a gardener
 who was in charge4 ,to speak with him1 
we walked round to the other side of the
 house1 to an open space of grass1 where
 the fowls picked merrily1 and the old  
farm-lumber1 broken coops1 disused      
ploughs1 lay comfortably about4 ,how ,i 
love tidiness6 wrote ,morris once4 ,yet 
,i did not feel that he would have done 
other than love all this natural and    
simple litter of the busy farmstead4    
,here the venerable house appeared more 
stately still4 ,through an open door in 
a wall we caught a sight of the old     
standards of an orchard1 and borders    
with the spikes of spring-flowers       
pushing through the mould4 ,the gardener
 was digging in the gravelly soil4 ,he  
received us with a grave and kindly air2
 but when we asked if we could look into
 the house1 he said1 with a sturdy      
faithfulness1 that his orders were that 
no one should see it1 and continued his 
digging without heeding us further4     
,somewhat abashed we retraced our steps2

 we got one glimpse of the fine indented
 front1 with its shapely wings and      
projections4 ,i should like to have seen
 the great parlour1 and the             
tapestry-room with the story of ,samson 
that bothered ,rossetti so over his     
work4 ,i should like to have seen the   
big oak bed1 with its hangings          
embroidered with one of ,morris's       
sweetest lyrics3        ,the wind's on  
the wold1       ,and the night is       
a-cold4   ,i should like to have seen   
the tapestry-chamber1 and the room where
 ,morris1 who so frankly relished the   
healthy savour of meat and drink1 ate   
his joyful meals1 and the peacock       
yew-tree that he found in his days of   
failing strength too hard a task to     
clip4 ,i should like to have seen all   
this1 ,i say2 and yet ,i am not sure    
that tables and chairs1 upholsteries and
 pictures1 would not have come in       
between me and the sacred spirit of the 
place4  ,so ,i turned to the church4    
,plain and homely as its exterior is1   

inside it is touched with the true      
mediaeval spirit1 like the old febel    
chapel of the ,mort d',arthur4 ,its bare
 walls1 its half-obliterated frescoes1  
its sturdy pillars1 gave it an ancient1 
simple air4 ,but ,i did not1 to my      
grief1 see the grave of ,morris1 though 
,i saw in fancy the coffin brought from 
,lechlade in the bright farm-waggon1 on 
that day of pitiless rain4 ,for there   
was going on in the churchyard the only 
thing ,i saw that day that seemed to me 
to strike a false note2 a silly posing  
of village girls1 self-conscious and    
overdressed1 before the camera of a     
photographer--a playing at aesthetics1  
bringing into the village life a touch  
of unwholesome vanity and the vulgar    
affectation of the world4 ,that is the  
ugly shadow of fame2 it makes           
conventional people curious about the   
details of a great man's life and       
surroundings1 without initiating them   
into any sympathy with his ideals and   
motives4 ,the price that the real       

worshippers pay for their inspiration is
 the slavering idolatry of the          
unintelligent2 and ,i withdrew in a     
mournful wonder from the place1 wishing 
,i could set an invisible fence round   
the scene1 a fence which none should    
pass but the few who had the secret and 
the key in their hearts4  ,and here1 for
 the pleasure of copying the sweet      
words1 let me transcribe a few sentences
 from ,morris's own description of the  
house itself3   ,a house that ,i love   
with a reasonable love1 ,i think2 for   
though my words may give you no idea of 
any special charm about it1 yet ,i      
assure you that the charm is there2 so  
much has the old house grown up out of  
the soil and the lives of those that    
lived on it3 some thin thread of        
tradition1 a half-anxious sense of the  
delight of meadow and acre and wood and 
river2 a certain amount 7not too much1  
let us hope7 of common-sense1 a liking  
for making materials serve one's turn1  
and perhaps at bottom some little grain 

of sentiment--this1 ,i think1 was what  
went to the making of the old house4    
,and again3   ,my feet moved along the  
road they knew4 ,the raised way led us  
into a little field1 bounded by a       
backwater of the river on one side2 on  
the right hand we could see a cluster of
 small houses and barns1 and before us a
 grey stone barn and a wall partly      
overgrown with ivy1 over which a few    
grey gables showed4 ,the village road   
ended in the shallow of the backwater4  
,we crossed the road1 and my hand raised
 the latch of a door in the wall1 and we
 stood presently on a stone path which  
led up to the old house4 ,the garden    
between the wall and the house was      
redolent of the ,june flowers1 and the  
roses were rolling over one another with
 that delicious superabundance of small 
well-tended gardens which at first sight
 takes away all thought save that of    
beauty4 ,the blackbirds were singing    
their loudest1 the doves were cooing on 
the roof-ridge1 the rooks in the high   

elm trees beyond were garrulous among   
the young leaves1 and the swifts wheeled
 whirring about the gables4 ,and the    
house itself was a fit guardian for all 
the beauty of this heart of summer4  ,o 
me6 ,o me6 ,how ,i love the earth1 and  
the seasons1 and weather1 and all things
 that deal with it1 and all that grows  
out of it--as this has done6 ,the earth 
and the growth of it and the life of it6
 ,if ,i could but say or show how ,i    
love it6   ,the pure lyrical beauty of  
these passages makes one out of conceit 
with one's own clumsy sentences4 ,but   
still1 ,i will say how all that         
afternoon1 among the quiet fields1 with 
the white clouds rolling up over the lip
 of the wolds1 ,i was haunted with the  
thought of that burly figure2 the great 
head with its curly hair and beard2 the 
eyes that seemed so guarded and         
unobservant1 and that yet saw and noted 
every smallest detail2 the big clumsy   
hands1 apt for such delicacy of work2 to
 see him in his rough blue suit1 his    

easy rolling gait1 wandering about1     
stooping to look at the flowers in the  
beds1 or glancing up at the sky1 or     
sauntering off to fish in the stream1 or
 writing swiftly in the parlour1 or     
working at his loom2 so bluff1 so       
kindly1 so blunt in address1 so         
unaffected1 loving all that he saw1 the 
tide of full-blooded and restless life  
running so vigorously in his veins2 or1 
further back1 ,rossetti1 with his wide  
eyes1 half bright1 half languorous1     
pale1 haunted with impossible dreams1   
pacing1 rapt in feverish thought1       
through the lonely fields4 ,the ghosts  
of heroes6 ,and whether it was that my  
own memories and affections and visions 
stirred my brain1 or that some tide of  
the spirit still sets from the          
undiscovered shores to the scenes of    
life and love1 ,i know not1 but the     
place seemed thronged with unseen       
presences and viewless mysteries of     
hope4 ,doubtless1 loving as we do the   
precise forms of earthly beauty1 the    

wide green pastures1 the tender grace of
 age on gable and wall1 the springing of
 sweet flowers1 the clear gush of the   
stream1 we are really in love with some 
deeper and holier thing2 yet even about 
the symbols themselves there lingers a  
consecrating power2 and that influence  
was present with me to-day1 as ,i went  
homewards in the westering light1 with  
the shadows of house and tree           
lengthening across the grass in the     
still afternoon4  ,heroes1 ,i said8     
,well1 ,i will not here speak of        
,rossetti1 though his impassioned heart 
and wayward dreams were made holy1 ,i   
think1 through suffering3 he has purged 
his fault4 ,but ,i cannot deny the name 
of hero to ,morris4 ,let me put into    
words what was happening to him at the  
very time at which he had made this     
sweet place his home4 ,he had already   
done as much in those early years as    
many men do in a lifetime4 ,he had      
written great poems1 he had loved and   
wedded1 he had made abundant friends1   

his wealth was growing fast2 he loved   
every detail of his work1 designing1    
weaving1 dyeing2 he had a band of       
devoted workers and craftsmen under him4
 ,he could defy the world2 he cared     
nothing at all for society or honours4  
,he had magnificent vitality1 a physique
 which afforded him every kind of       
wholesome momentary enjoyment4  ,in the 
middle of all this happy activity a     
cloud came over his mind1 blotting out  
the sunshine4 ,partly1 perhaps1 private 
sorrows had something to do with it2    
partly1 perhaps1 a weakening of physical
 fibre1 after a life of enormous        
productivity and restless energy1 made  
itself felt4 ,but these were only       
incidental causes4 ,what began to weigh 
upon him was the thought of all the     
toiling thousands of humanity1 whose    
lives of labour precluded them from the 
enjoyment of all or nearly all of the   
beautiful things that were to him the   
very essence of life2 and1 what was     
worse still1 he perceived that the very 

faculty of higher enjoyment was lacking1
 the instinct for beauty having been    
atrophied and almost eradicated by sad  
inheritance1 ,he saw that not only did  
the workers not feel the joyful love of 
art and natural beauty1 but that they   
could not have enjoyed such pleasures1  
even if they were to be brought near to 
them2 and then came the further and     
darker thought1 that modern art was1    
after all1 a hollow and a soulless      
thing4 ,he saw around him beautiful old 
houses like his own1 old churches which 
spoke of a high natural instinct for    
fineness of form and detail4 ,these     
things seemed to stand for a widespread 
and lively joy in simple beauty which   
seemed to have vanished out of the      
world4 ,in ancient times it was natural 
to the old builders if they had1 say1 a 
barn to build1 to make it strong and    
seemly and graceful2 to buttress it with
 stone1 to bestow care and thought upon 
coign and window-ledge and dripstone1 to
 prop the roof on firm and shapely      

beams1 and to cover it with honest stone
 tiles1 each one of which had an        
individuality of its own4 ,but now he   
saw that if people built naturally1 they
 ran up flimsy walls of brick1 tied them
 together with iron rods1 and put a     
curved roof of galvanised iron on the   
top4 ,it was bad enough that it should  
be built so1 but what was worse still   
was that no one saw or heeded the       
difference2 they thought the new style  
was more convenient1 and the question of
 beauty never entered their minds at    
all4 ,they remorselessly pulled down1 or
 patched meanly and sordidly1 the old   
work4 ,and thus he began to feel that   
modern art was an essentially artificial
 thing1 a luxury existing for a few     
leisurely people1 and no longer based on
 a deep universal instinct4 ,he thought 
that art was wounded to death by        
competition and hurry and vulgarity and 
materialism1 and that it must die down  
altogether before a sweet natural       
product could arise from the stump4     

,then1 too1 ,morris was not an          
individualist2 he cared1 one may think1 
about things more than people4 ,a friend
 of his once complained that1 if he were
 to die1 ,morris would no doubt grieve  
for him and even miss him1 but that it  
would make no gap in his life1 nor      
interrupt his energy of work4 ,he cared 
for movements1 for classes1 for groups  
of men1 more than he cared for persons4 
,and thus the idea came to him1 in a    
mournful year of reflection1 that it was
 not only a mistake1 but of the nature  
of sin1 to isolate himself in a little  
,paradise of art of his own making1 and 
to allow the great noisy1 ugly1         
bewildered world to go on its way4 ,it  
was a noble grief4 ,the thought of the  
bare1 uncheered1 hopeless lives of the  
poor came to weigh on him like an       
obsession1 and he began to turn over in 
his mind what he could do to unravel the
 knotted skein4   ,i am rather in a     
discouraged mood1 he wrote on ,new      
,year's ,day #ahhj1 and the whole thing 

seems almost too tangled to see through 
and too heavy to move4 ,and again3  ,i  
have of late been somewhat melancholy   
7rather too strong a word1 but ,i don't 
know another72 not so much so as not to 
enjoy life in a way1 but just so much as
 a man of middle age who has met with   
rubs 7though less than his share of     
them7 may sometimes be allowed to be4   
,when one is just so much subdued one is
 apt to turn more specially from        
thinking of one's own affairs to more   
worthy matters2 and my mind is very full
 of the great change which ,i hope is   
slowly coming over the world4   ,and so 
he plunged into ,socialism4 ,he gave up 
his poetry and much of his congenial    
work4 ,he attended meetings and         
committees2 he wrote leaflets and       
pamphlets2 he lavished money2 he took to
 giving lectures and addresses2 he      
exposed himself to misunderstandings and
 insults4 ,he spoke in rain at street   
corners to indifferent loungers2 he     
pushed a little cart about the squares  

selling ,socialist literature2 he had   
collisions with the police2 he was      
summoned before magistrates3 the poetic 
upholsterer1 as he was called1 became an
 object of bewildered contempt to       
friends and foes alike4 ,the work was   
not congenial to him1 but he did it     
well1 developing infinite tolerance and 
good-humour1 and even tactfulness1 in   
his relations with other men4 ,the      
exposure to the weather1 the strain1 the
 neglect of his own physical needs1     
brought on1 undoubtedly1 the illness of 
which he eventually died2 and worst of  
all was the growing shadow of           
discouragement1 which made him gradually
 aware that the times were not ripe1 and
 that even if the people could seize the
 power they desired1 they could not use 
it4 ,he became aware that the worker's  
idea of rising in the social scale was  
not the idea of gaining security1       
leisure1 independence1 and love of      
honest work1 but the hope of migrating  
to the middle class1 and becoming a     

capitalist on a small scale4 ,that was  
the last thing that ,morris desired4    
,most of all he felt the charge of      
inconsistency that was dinned into his  
ears4 ,it was held ridiculous that a    
wealthy capitalist and a large employer 
of labour1 living1 if not in luxury1 at 
least in considerable stateliness1      
should profess ,socialist ideas without 
attempting to disencumber himself of his
 wealth4 ,he wrote in answer to a loving
 remonstrance3   ,you see1 my dear1 ,i  
can't help it4 ,the ideas which have    
taken hold of me will not let me rest2  
nor can ,i see anything else worth      
thinking of4 ,how can it be otherwise1  
when to me society1 which to many seems 
an orderly arrangement for allowing     
decent people to get through their lives
 creditably and with some pleasure1     
seems mere cannibalism2 nay1 worse 7for 
there ought to be hope in that71 is     
grown so corrupt1 so steeped in         
hypocrisy and lies1 that one turns from 
one stratum of it to another with       

hopeless loathing4444 ,meantime1 what a 
little ruffles me is this1 that if ,i do
 a little fail in my duty some of my    
friends will praise me for failing      
instead of blaming me4   ,and then at   
last1 after every sordid circumstance of
 intrigue and squabble and jealousy1 one
 after another of the organisations he  
joined broke down4 ,half gratefully and 
half mournfully he disengaged himself1  
not because he did not believe in his   
principles1 but because he saw that the 
difficulties were insuperable4 ,he came 
back to the old life2 he flung himself  
with renewed ardour into art and        
craftsmanship4 ,he began to write the   
beautiful and romantic prose tales1 with
 their enchanting titles1 which are1    
perhaps1 his most characteristic work4  
,he learnt by slow degrees that a clean 
sweep of an evil system cannot be made  
in a period or a lifetime by an         
individual1 however serious or strenuous
 he may be2 he began to perceive that1  
if society is to put ideas in practice1 

the ideas must first be there1 clearly  
defined and widely apprehended2 and that
 it is useless to urge men to a life of 
which they have no conception and for   
which they have no desire4 ,he had      
always held it to be a sacred duty for  
people to live1 if possible1 in whatever
 simplicity1 among beautiful things2 and
 it may be said that no one man in one  
generation has ever effected so much in 
this direction4 ,he has1 indeed1        
leavened and educated taste2 he has     
destroyed a vile and hypocritical       
tradition of domestic art2 by his       
writings he has opened a door for       
countless minds into a remote and       
fragrant region of unspoilt romance2    
and1 still more than this1 he remains an
 example of one who made a great and    
triumphant resignation of all that he   
held most dear1 for the sake of doing   
what he thought to be right4 ,he was not
 an ascetic1 giving up what is half an  
incumbrance and half a terror2 nor was  
he naturally a melancholy and detached  

person2 but he gave up work which he    
loved passionately1 and a life which he 
lived in a full-blooded1 generous way1  
that he might try to share his blessings
 with others1 out of a supreme pity for 
those less richly endowed than himself4 
,how1 then1 should not this corner of   
the world1 which he loved so dearly1    
speak to the spirit with a voice and an 
accent far louder and more urgent than  
its own tranquil habit of sunny peace   
and green-shaded sweetness6 ,you know my
 faith1 wrote ,morris from ,kelmscott in
 a bewildered hour1 and how ,i feel ,i  
have no sort of right to revenge myself 
for any of my private troubles on the   
kind earth2 and here ,i feel her        
kindness very specially1 and am bound   
not to meet it with a long face4 ,noble 
and high-hearted words6 for he of all   
men seemed made by nature to enjoy      
security and beauty and the joys of     
living1 if ever man was so made4 ,his   
very lack of personal sensitiveness1 his
 unaptness to be moved by the pathetic  

appeal of the individual1 might have    
been made a shield for his own peace2   
but he laid that shield down1 and bared 
his breast to the sharp arrows2 and in  
his noble madness to redress the wrongs 
of the world he was1 perhaps1 more like 
one of his great generous knights than  
he himself ever suspected4  ,this1 then1
 ,i think is the reason why this        
place--a grey grange at the end of a    
country lane1 among water meadows--has  
so ample a call for the spirit4 ,a place
 of which ,morris wrote1 ,the scale of  
everything of the smallest1 but so      
sweet1 so unusual even2 it was like the 
background of an innocent fairy-story4  
,yes1 it might have been that6 ,many of 
the simplest and quietest of lives had  
been lived there1 no doubt1 before      
,morris came that way4 ,but with him    
came a realisation of its virtues1 a    
perception that in its smallness and    
sweetness it yet held imprisoned1 like  
the gem that sits on the smallest finger
 of a hand1 an ocean of light and       

colour4 ,the two things that lend       
strength to life are1 in the first      
place1 an appreciation of its quality1 a
 perception of its intense and awful    
significance--the thought that we here  
hold in our hands1 if we could but piece
 it all together1 the elements and      
portions of a mighty1 an overwhelming   
problem4 ,the fragments of that mighty  
mystery are sorrow1 sin1 suffering1 joy1
 hope1 life1 death4 ,things of their    
nature sharply opposed1 and yet that    
are1 doubtless1 somehow and somewhere1  
united and composed and reconciled4 ,it 
is at this sad point that many men and  
most artists stop short4 ,they see what 
they love and desire2 they emphasise    
this and rest upon it2 and when the     
surge of suffering buffets them away1   
they drown1 bewildered1 struggling for  
breath1 complaining4  ,but for the true 
man it is otherwise4 ,he is penetrated  
with the desire that all should share   
his joy and be emboldened by it4 ,it    
casts a cold shadow over the sunshine1  

it mars the scent of the roses1 it wails
 across the cooing of the doves--the    
sense that others suffer and toil       
unhelped2 and still more grievous to him
 is the thought that1 were these duller 
natures set free from the galling yoke1 
their mirth would be evil and hideous1  
they would have no inkling of the       
sweeter and the purer joy4 ,and then1 if
 he be wise1 he tries his hardest1 in   
slow and wearied hours1 to comfort1 to  
interpret1 to explain2 in much heaviness
 and dejection he labours1 while all the
 time1 though he knows it not1 the sweet
 ripple of his thoughts spreads across  
the stagnant pool4 ,he may be flouted1  
contemned1 insulted1 but he heeds it    
not2 while all the strands of the great 
mystery1 dark and bright alike1 work    
themselves1 delicately and surely1 into 
the picture of his life1 and the picture
 of other lives as well4 ,larger and    
richer grows the great design1 till it  
is set in some wide hall or corridor of 
the ,house of ,life2 and the figure of  

the toil-worn knight1 with armour dinted
 and brow dimmed with dust and sweat1   
kneeling at the shrine1 makes the very  
silence of the place beautiful2 while   
those that go to and fro rejoice1 not in
 the suffering and weariness1 not in the
 worn face and the thin1 sun-browned    
hands1 but in the thought that he loved 
all things well2 that his joy was pure  
and high1 that his clear eyes pierced   
the dull mist that wreathed cold field  
and dripping wood1 and that1 when he    
sank1 outworn and languid after the     
day's long toil1 the jocund trumpets    
broke out from the high-walled town in a
 triumphant concert1 because he had done
 worthily1 and should now see greater   
things than these4     ,,xii4 ,a        
,,speech-,,day   ,in the course of the  
summer it was my lot to attend the      
,speech-,day festivities of a certain   
school--indeed1 ,i attended at more than
 one such gathering1 vocatus atque non  
vocatus1 as ,horace says4 ,they are not 
the sort of entertainments ,i should    

choose for pleasure2 one feels too much 
like a sheep1 driven from pen to pen1   
kindly and courteously driven1 but still
 driven4 ,one is fed rather than eats4  
,one meets a number of charming and     
interesting people1 and one has no time 
to talk to them4 ,but ,i am always glad 
to have gone1 and one carries away      
pleasant memories of kindness and       
courtesy1 of youth and hope4  ,this     
particular occasion was so very typical 
that ,i am going to try and gather up my
 impressions and ideas4 ,it was an old  
school and a famous school1 though not  
one of the most famous4 ,the buildings  
large and effective1 full of modern and 
up-to-date improvements1 with a mellow  
core of antiquity1 in the shape of a    
venerable little courtyard in the       
centre4 ,there were green lawns and     
pleasant gardens and umbrageous trees2  
and it was a beautiful day1 too1 sunny  
and fresh1 so that one was neither baked
 nor boiled4 ,the first item was a      
luncheon1 at which ,i sate between two  

very pleasant strangers and exchanged   
cautious views on education4 ,we agreed 
that the value of the classics as a     
staple of mental training was perhaps a 
little overrated1 and that possibly too 
much attention was nowadays given to    
athletics2 but that after all the       
public-school system was the backbone of
 the country1 and taught boys how to    
behave like gentlemen1 and how to govern
 subject races4 ,we agreed that they    
were ideal training-grounds for         
character1 and that our public-schools  
were the envy of the civilised world4   
,in such profound and suggestive        
interchange of ideas the time sped      
rapidly away4  ,then we were gathered   
into a big hall4 ,it was pleasant to see
 proud parents and charming sisters1    
wearing their best1 clustered excitedly 
round some sturdy and well-brushed young
 hero1 the hope of the race2 pleasant to
 see frock-coated masters1 beaming with 
professional benevolence1 elderly       
gentlemen smilingly recalling tales of  

youthful prowess1 which had grown quite 
epical in the lapse of time2 it was     
inspiriting to feel one of a big company
 of people1 all bent on being for once  
as good-humoured and cheerful as        
possible1 and all inspired by a vague   
desire to improve the occasion4  ,the   
prizes were given away to the           
accompaniment of a rolling thunder of   
applause2 we had familiar and ingenuous 
recitations from youthful orators1 who  
desired friends1 ,romans1 and countrymen
 to lend them their ears1 or accepted   
the atrocious accusation of being a     
young man2 and then a ,bishop1 who had  
been a schoolmaster himself1 delivered  
an address4 ,it was delightful to see   
and hear the good man expatiate4 ,i did 
not believe much in what he said1 nor   
could ,i reasonably endorse many of his 
statements2 but he did it all so        
genially and naturally that one felt    
almost ashamed to question the matter of
 his discourse4 ,yet ,i could not help  
wondering why it is thought advisable   

always to say exactly the same things on
 these occasions4 ,the good man began by
 asserting that the boys would never be 
so happy or so important again in their 
lives as they were at school1 and that  
all grown-up people were envying them4  
,i don't know whether any one believed  
that2 ,i am sure the boys did not1 if ,i
 can judge by what my own feelings used 
to be on such occasions4 ,personally ,i 
used to think my school a very decent   
sort of place1 but ,i looked forward    
with excitement and interest to the     
liberty and life of the larger world2   
and though perhaps in a way we elders   
envied the boys for having the chances  
before them that we had so many of us   
neglected to seize1 ,i don't suppose    
that with the parable of ,vice ,versa   
before us we would really have changed  
places with them4 ,would any one ever   
return willingly to discipline and      
barrack-life8 ,yes--ed4 ,would any one  
under discipline refuse independence if 
it were offered him on easy terms8 ,i   

doubt it6  ,then the ,bishop went on to 
talk about educational things2 and he   
said with much emphasis that in spite of
 all that was said about modern         
education1 we most of us realised as we 
grew older that all culture was really  
based upon the ,greek and ,latin        
classics4 ,we all stamped on the ground 
and cheered at that1 ,i as lustily as   
the rest1 though ,i am quite sure it is 
not true4 ,all that the ,bishop really  
meant was that such culture as he       
himself possessed had been based on the 
classics4 ,now the ,bishop is a robust1 
genial1 and sensible man1 but he is not 
a strictly cultured man4 ,he is only    
sketchily varnished with culture4 ,he   
thinks that ,german literature is       
nebulous1 and ,french literature        
immoral4 ,i don't suppose he ever reads 
an ,english book1 except perhaps an     
ecclesiastical biography2 he would say  
that he had no time to read a novel2    
probably he glances at the ,christian   
,year on ,sundays1 and peruses a        

,waverley novel if he is kept in bed by 
a cold4 ,yet he considers himself1 and  
would be generally considered1 a        
well-educated man4 ,i believe myself    
that the reason why we as a nation love 
good literature so little is because we 
are starved at an impressionable age on 
a diet of classics2 and to persist in   
regarding the classics as the high-water
 mark of the human intellect seems to me
 to argue a melancholy want of faith in 
the progress of the race4 ,however1 for 
the moment we all believed ourselves to 
be men of a high culture1 soundly based 
on the corner-stone of ,latin and       
,greek4 ,then the ,bishop went on to    
speak of athletics with a solemn        
earnestness1 and he said1 with deep     
conviction1 that experience had taught  
him that whatever was worth doing was   
worth doing well4 ,he did not argue the 
point as to whether all games were worth
 playing1 or whether by filling up all  
the spare time of boys with them1 by    
crowning successful athletes with glory 

and worship1 by engaging masters who    
will talk with profound seriousness     
about bowling and batting1 rowing and   
football1 one might not be developing a 
perfectly false sense of proportion4 ,he
 told the boys to play games with all   
their might1 and he left on their minds 
the impression that athletics were      
certainly things to be ranked among the 
,christian graces4 ,of course he        
sincerely believed in them himself4 ,he 
would have maintained that they         
developed manliness and vigour1 and     
discouraged loafing and uncleanness4 ,i 
am not at all sure myself that games as 
at present organised do minister        
directly to virtue4 ,the popularity of  
the athlete is a dangerous thing if he  
is not virtuously inclined2 while the   
excessive organisation of games         
discourages individuality1 and          
emphasises a very false standard of     
success in the minds of many boys4 ,but 
the ,bishop was not invited that he     
might say unconventional things4 ,he was

 asked on purpose to bless things as    
they were1 and he blessed them with all 
his might4  ,then he went on to say that
 the real point after all was character 
and conduct2 that intellect was a gift  
of ,god1 and that conspicuous athletic  
capacity was a gift--he did not like to 
say of ,god1 so he said of ,providence2 
but that in one respect we were all     
equal1 and that was in our capacity for 
moral effort2 and that the boy who came 
to the front was not always the         
distinguished scholar or the famous     
athlete1 but the industrious1           
trustworthy1 kindly1 generous1          
public-spirited boy4 ,this he said with 
deep emotion1 as though it were rather a
 daring and unexpected statement1 but   
discerned by a vigilant candour2 and all
 this with the air that he was          
testifying faithfully to the true values
 of life1 and sweeping aside with a     
courageous hand the false glow and      
glamour of the world4 ,we did not like  
to applaud at this1 but we made a       

subdued drumming with our heels1 and    
uttered a sort of murmurous assent to a 
noble and far from obvious proposition4 
,but here again ,i felt that the thing  
was somehow not quite as high-minded as 
it seemed4 ,the goal designated was1    
after all1 the goal of success4 ,it was 
not suggested that the unrewarded and   
self-denying life was perhaps the       
noblest4 ,the point was to come to the  
front somehow1 and it was only          
indicating a sort of waiting game for   
the boys who were conscious neither of  
intellectual nor athletic capacity4 ,it 
was a sort of false socialism1 this     
pretence of moral equality1 a kind of   
consolation prize that was thus         
emphasised4 ,and ,i felt that here again
 the assumption was an untrue one4 ,that
 is the worst of life1 if one examines  
it closely1 that it is by no means      
wholly run on moral lines4 ,it is       
strength that is rewarded1 rather than  
good desires4 ,the ,bishop seemed to    
have forgotten the ancient maxim that   

prosperity is the blessing of the ,old  
,testament1 and affliction the blessing 
of the ,new4 ,these qualities that were 
going to produce ultimate               
success--conscientiousness1 generosity1 
modesty1 public spirit--they are1 after 
all1 as much gifts as any other gifts of
 intellect and bodily skill4 ,how often 
has one seen boys who are immodest1     
idle1 frivolous1 mean-spirited1 and     
ungenerous attain to the opposite       
virtues8 ,not often1 ,i confess4 ,who   
does not know of abundant instances of  
boys who have been selfish1 worthless1  
grasping1 unprincipled1 who have yet    
achieved success intellectually and     
athletically1 and have also done well   
for themselves1 amassed money1 and      
obtained positions for themselves in    
after life4 ,looking back on my own     
school days1 ,i cannot honestly say that
 the prizes of life have fallen to the  
pure-minded1 affectionate1              
high-principled boys4 ,the boys ,i      
remember who have achieved conspicuous  

success in the world have been          
hard-hearted1 prudent1 honourable       
characters with a certain superficial   
bonhomie1 who by a natural instinct did 
the things that paid4 ,stripped of its  
rhetoric1 the ,bishop's address resolved
 itself into a panegyric of success1 and
 the morality of it was that if you     
could not achieve intellectual and      
athletic prominence1 you might get a    
certain degree of credit by             
unostentatious virtue4 ,what ,i felt was
 that somehow the goal proposed         
was--dare ,i hint it8--a vulgar one2    
that it was a glorification of prudence 
and good-humoured self-interest2 and yet
 if the ,bishop had preached the gospel 
of disinterestedness and quiet          
faithfulness and devotion1 he would have
 had few enthusiastic hearers4 ,if he   
had said that an awkward and surly      
manner1 no matter what virtues it       
concealed1 was the greatest bar to      
ultimate mundane success1 it would have 
been quite true1 though perhaps not     

particularly edifying4 ,but what ,i     
desired was not startling paradox or    
cynical comment1 but something more     
really manly1 more just1 more           
unconventional1 more ardent1 more       
disinterested4 ,the boys were not       
exhorted to care for beautiful things   
for the sake of their beauty2 but to    
care for attractive things for the sake 
of their acceptability4  ,and yet in a  
way it did us all good to listen to the 
great man4 ,he was so big and kindly and
 fatherly and ingenuous2 he had made    
virtue pay2 ,i do not suppose he had    
ever had a low or an impure or a        
spiteful thought2 but his path had been 
easy from the first2 he was a scholar   
and an athlete1 and he had never pursued
 success1 for the simple reason that it 
had fallen from heaven like manna round 
about his dwelling1 with perhaps a few  
dozen quails as well6 ,boys1 parents1   
masters1 young and old alike1 were      
assembled that day to worship success1  
and the ,bishop prophesied good         

concerning them4 ,it entered no one's   
head that success1 in its simplest      
analysis1 means thrusting some one else 
aside from a place which he desires to  
fill4 ,but why on such a day should one 
think of the feelings of others8 we were
 all bent on virtuously gratifying our  
own desires4 ,the boys who were left out
 were the weak and the timid1 the ailing
 and the erring1 the awkward and the    
unpopular1 the clumsy and the stupid2   
they were not bidden to take courage1   
they were rather bidden to envy the     
unattainable1 and to submit with such   
grace as they could muster4 ,but we     
pushed all such vague and unsatisfactory
 thoughts in the background2 we sounded 
the clarion and filled the fife1 and    
were at case in ,zion1 while we         
worshipped the great1 brave1 glittering 
world4  ,what ,i desired was that1 in   
the height of our jubilant              
self-gratulation1 some sweet and        
gracious figure1 full of heavenly       
wisdom1 could have twitched the gaudy   

curtain aside for a moment and shown us 
other things than these2 who could have 
assured us that we all1 however stupid  
and dreary and awkward and indolent1    
however vexed with low dreams and ugly  
temptations1 yet had our share and place
 in the rich inheritance of life2 and   
that even if it was to be all a record  
of dull failure1 commonplace sinfulness 
cheered by no joyful triumph1 no        
friendly smile--yet if we fought the    
fault and did the dull task faithfully1 
and desired to be but a little better1 a
 little stronger1 a little more         
unselfish1 that the pilgrimage with all 
its sandy tracts and terrifying spectres
 would not be traversed in vain2 and    
then ,i think we might have been brought
 together with a sense of sweeter and   
truer unity1 and might have thought of  
life as a thing to be shared1 and joy as
 a thing to be lavished1 and not have   
rather conceived of the world as a place
 full of fine things1 of which we were  
all to gather sedulously as many as we  

could grasp and retain4  ,or even if the
 good ,bishop had taken a simpler line  
and told the boys some old story1 like  
the story of ,polycrates of ,samos1 ,i  
should have been more comfortable4      
,polycrates was the tyrant with whom    
everything went well that he set his    
hand to1 so that to avoid the punishment
 of undue prosperity he threw his great 
signet-ring into the sea2 but when he   
was served a day or two later with a    
slice of fish at his banquet1 there was 
the ring sticking in its ribs4 ,the     
,bishop might have said that this should
 teach us not to try and seize all the  
good things we could1 and that the      
reason of it was not1 as the old ,greeks
 thought1 that the gods envied the      
prosperity of mortals1 but that our     
prosperity was often dashed very wisely 
and tenderly from our lips1 because one 
of the worst foes that a man can have1  
one of the most blinding and bewildering
 of faults1 is the sense of             
self-sufficiency and security4 ,that    

would not have spoilt the pleasure of   
those brisk boys1 but would have given  
them something wholesome to take away   
and think about1 like the prophet's roll
 that was sweet in the mouth and bitter 
in the belly4  ,it may be thought that  
,i have thus dilated on the ,bishop's   
address for the sole purpose of showing 
what a much better address ,i could have
 made4 ,that is not the case at all4 ,i 
could not have done the thing at all to 
start with1 and1 given both the nerve   
and the presence and the practice of the
 man1 ,i could not have done it a       
quarter as well1 because he was in tune 
with his audience and ,i should not have
 been4 ,that was to me part of the      
tragedy4 ,the ,bishop's voice fell      
heavily and steadily1 like a stream of  
water from a great iron pipe that fills 
a reservoir4 ,the audience1 too1 were   
all in the most elementary mood4 ,boys  
of course frankly desire success without
 any disguise4 ,and parents less frankly
 but no less hungrily1 in an almost     

tigerish way1 desire it for their       
children4 ,the intensity of belief felt 
by a parent in a stupid or even vicious 
boy would be one of the most pathetic   
things ,i know1 if it were not also one 
of the primal forces of the world4  ,and
 thus the tide being high the ,bishop   
went into harbour at the top of the     
flood4 ,i don't even complain of the    
nature of the address2 it was frankly   
worldly1 such as might have been given  
by a ,sadducee in the time of ,christ4  
,but the interesting thing about it was 
that most of the people present believed
 it to be an ethical and even a         
religious address4 ,it was the ethic of 
a professional bowler and the religion  
of a banker4 ,if a boy had been for all 
intents and purposes a professional     
bowler to the age of twenty-three1 and a
 professional banker afterwards1 he     
would almost exactly have fulfilled the 
,bishop's ideal4 ,i do not think it is a
 bad ideal either4 ,i only say that it  
is not an exalted ideal1 and it is not a

 ,christian ideal4 ,it is the world in  
disguise1 the wolf in sheep's clothing  
over again4 ,we were taken in4 ,we said 
to ourselves1 ,this is an animal        
certainly clothed as a sheep--and we    
must remember the old proverb and be    
careful4 ,but as the ,bishop's address  
proceeded1 and the fragrant oil fell    
down to the skirts of our clothing1 we  
said1 ,there is certainly a sheep       
inside4  ,then a choir of strong1 rough1
 boyish voices sang an old glee or      
two--,glorious ,apollo and ,hail smiling
 ,morn1 and a school song about the old 
place that made some of us bite our lips
 and furtively brush away an unexpected 
and inexplicable moisture from our eyes1
 at the thought of the fine fellows we  
had ourselves sat side by side with     
thirty and forty years ago1 now         
scattered to all ends of the earth1 and 
some of them gone from the here to the  
everywhere1 as the poet says4 ,and then 
we adjourned to see the ,school ,corps  
inspected--such solemn little soldiers1 

marching past in their serviceable      
uniforms1 the line rising and falling   
with the inequalities of the ground1 and
 bowing out a good deal in the centre1  
at the very moment that the good-natured
 old ,colonel was careful to look the   
other way4 ,then there was a leisurely  
game of cricket1 with a lot of very old 
boys playing with really amazing        
agility2 and then ,i fell in with an old
 acquaintance1 and we strolled about    
together1 and got a friendly master to  
show us over the schoolrooms and one of 
the houses1 and admired the excellent   
arrangements1 and peeped into some      
studies crowded with pleasant boyish    
litter1 and talked to some of the boys  
with an attempt at light juvenility1 and
 enjoyed ourselves in a thoroughly      
absurd and leisurely fashion4 ,and then 
,i was left alone1 and walking about1   
abandoned myself to sentiment pure and  
simple2 it was hard to analyse that     
feeling which was stirred by the sight  
of all those fresh-faced boys1 flowing  

like a stream through the old buildings1
 and just leaving their own little mark1
 for good or evil1 on the place--a      
painted name on an ,honours board1      
initials cut in desk or panel1 a memory 
or two1 how soon to grow dim in the     
minds of the new generation1 who would  
be so full of themselves and of the     
present1 turning the sweet-scented      
manuscript of youth with such eager     
fingers1 that they could give but little
 thought to the future and none at all  
to the past4 ,and then one remembered1  
with a curious sense of wistful pain1   
how rapidly the cards of life were being
 dealt out to one1 and how long it was  
since one had played the card of youth  
so heedlessly and joyfully away2 that at
 least could not return4 ,and then there
 came the thought of all the hope and   
love that centred upon these children1  
and all the possibilities which lay     
before them4 ,and ,i began to think of  
my own contemporaries and of how little 
on the whole they had done2 it was not  

fair perhaps to say that most of them   
had made a mess of their lives1 because 
they were honest1 honourable citizens   
many of them4 ,it was not the poor thing
 called success that ,i was thinking of1
 but a sort of high-hearted and generous
 dealing with life1 making the most of  
one's faculties and qualities1 diffusing
 a glow of love and enthusiasm and brave
 zest about one--how few of us had done 
that6 ,we had grown indolent and        
money-loving and commonplace4 ,some of  
those we looked to to redeem and glorify
 the world had failed most miserably1   
through unchecked faults of temperament4
 ,some had declined with a sort of      
unambitious comfort1 some had fallen    
into the trough of ,toryism1 and spent  
their time in holding fast to           
conventional and established things2 one
 or two had flown like ,icarus so near  
the sun that their waxen wings had      
failed them2 and yet some of us had     
missed greatness by so little4 ,was it  
to be always so8 ,was it always to be a 

battle against hopeless odds8 ,was      
defeat1 earlier or later1 inevitable8   
,the tamest defeat of all was to lapse  
smoothly into easy conventional ways1 to
 adopt the standards of the world1 and  
rake together contentedly and seriously 
the straws and dirt of the street4 ,if  
that was to be the destiny of most1 why 
were we haunted in youth with the sight 
of that cloudy1 gleaming crown within   
our reach1 that sense of romance1 that  
phantom of nobleness8 ,what was the     
significance of the aspirations that    
made the heart beat high on fresh sunlit
 mornings1 the dim and beautiful hopes  
that came beckoning as we looked from   
our windows in a sunset hour1 with the  
sky flushing red behind the old towers1 
the sense of illimitable power1 of      
stainless honour1 that came so bravely1 
when the organ bore the voices aloft in 
the lighted chapel at evensong8 ,was all
 that not a real inspiration at all1 but
 a mere accident of boyish vigour8 ,no1 
it was not a delusion--that was life as 

it was meant to be lived1 and the best  
victory was to keep that hope alive in  
the heart amid a hundred failures1 a    
thousand cares4  ,as ,i walked thus full
 of fancies1 the boys singly or in      
groups kept passing me1 smiling1 full of
 delighted excitement and chatter1 all  
intent on themselves and their          
companions4 ,i heard scraps of their    
talk1 inconsequent names1 accompanied   
with downright praise or blame1         
unintelligible exploits1 happy nonsense4
 ,how odd it is to note that when we    
,anglo-,saxons are at our happiest and  
most cheerful1 we expend so much of our 
steam in frank derision of each other6  
,yet though ,i can hardly remember a    
single conversation of my school days1  
the thought of my friendships and       
alliances is all gilt with a sense of   
delightful eagerness4 ,now that ,i am a 
writer of books1 it matters even more   
how ,i say a thing than what ,i say4    
,but then it was the other way4 ,it was 
what we felt that mattered1 and talk was

 but the sparkling outflow of trivial   
thought4 ,what heroes we made of sturdy1
 unemphatic boys1 how we repeated each  
other's jokes1 what merciless critics we
 were of each other1 how little         
allowance we made for weakness or       
oddity1 how easily we condoned all      
faults in one who was good-humoured and 
strong6 ,how the little web of intrigue 
and gossip1 of likes and dislikes1 wove 
and unwove itself6 ,what hopeless       
,tories we were6 ,how we stood upon our 
rights and privileges6 ,i have few      
illusions as to the innocence or the    
justice or the generosity of boyhood2   
what boys really admire are grace and   
effectiveness and readiness4 ,and yet1  
looking back1 one has parted with       
something1 a sort of zest and intensity 
that one would fain have retained4 ,i   
felt that ,i would have given much to be
 able to have communicated a few of the 
hard lessons of experience that ,i have 
learnt by my errors and mistakes1 to    
these jolly youngsters2 but there again 

comes in the pathos of boyhood1 that one
 can make no one a present of           
experience1 and that virtue cannot be   
communicated1 or it ceases to be virtue4
 ,they were bound1 all those ingenuous  
creatures1 to make their own blunders1  
and one could not save them a single    
one1 for all one's hankering to help4   
,that is of course the secret1 that we  
are here for the sake of experience1 and
 not for the sake of easy happiness4    
,yet one would keep the hearts of these 
boys pure and untarnished and strong1 if
 one could1 though even as one walked   
among them one could see faces on which 
temptation and sin had already written  
itself in legible signs4  ,the cricket  
drew to an end2 the shadows began to    
lengthen on the turf4 ,the mimic        
warriors were disbanded4 ,the tea-tables
 made their appearance under the elms1  
where one was welcomed and waited upon  
by cheerful matrons and neat            
maidservants1 and delightfully zealous  
and inefficient boys4 ,one had but to   

express a preference to have            
half-a-dozen plates pressed upon one by 
smiling ,ganymedes4 ,if schools cannot  
alter character1 they certainly can     
communicate to our cheerful ,english    
boys the most delightful manners in the 
world1 so unembarrassed1 courteous1     
easy1 graceful1 without the least touch 
of exaggeration or self-consciousness4  
,i suppose one has insular prejudices1  
for we are certainly not looked upon as 
models of courtesy or consideration by  
our ,continental neighbours4 ,i suppose 
we reserve our best for ourselves4 ,i   
expressed a wish to look at some of the 
new buildings1 and a young gentleman of 
prepossessing exterior became my        
unaffected cicerone4 ,he was not one who
 dealt in adjectives2 his highest       
epithet of praise was pretty decent1 but
 one detected an honest and             
unquestioning pride in the place for all
 that4  ,perhaps the best point of all  
about these schools of ours1 is that the
 aspect of the place and the tone of the

 dwellers in it does not vary           
appreciably on days of festival and on  
working days4 ,the beauty of it is a    
little focused and smartened1 but that  
is all4 ,there is no covering up of     
deficiencies or hiding desolation out of
 sight4 ,if one goes down to a          
public-school on an ordinary day1 one   
finds the same brave life1 the same     
unembarrassed courtesy prevailing4      
,there is no sense of being taken by    
surprise2 the life is all open to       
inspection on any day and at any hour4  
,we do not reserve ourselves for        
occasions in ,england4 ,the meat cuts   
wholesomely and pleasantly wherever it  
is sampled4  ,the disadvantage of this  
is that we are misjudged by foreigners  
because we are seen1 not at our best1   
but as we are4 ,we do not feel the need 
of recommending ourselves to the        
favourable consideration of others2 not 
that that is a virtue1 it is rather the 
shadow of complacency and patriotism4   
,but at last a feeling begins to arise  

in the minds both of hosts and guests   
that the play is played out for the day1
 that the little festivity is over4 ,on 
the part of our hosts that feeling      
manifests itself in a tendency to press 
departing guests to stay a little       
longer4 ,an old acquaintance of mine1 a 
shy man1 once gave a large garden-party 
and had a band to play4 ,he did his best
 for a time and times and half-a-time2  
but at last he began to feel that the   
strain was becoming intolerable4 ,with  
desperate ingenuity he sought out the   
band-master1 told him to leave out the  
rest of the programme1 and play ,god    
,save the ,king1--the result being a    
furious exodus of his guests4 ,today no 
such device is needed4 ,we melt away1   
leaving our kind entertainers to the    
pleasant weariness that comes of        
sustained geniality1 and to the sense   
that three hundred and sixty-four days  
have to elapse before the next similar  
festival4  ,and1 for myself1 ,i carry   
away with me a gracious memory of a day 

thrilled by a variety of conflicting and
 profound emotions2 and if ,i feel that 
perhaps life would be both easier and   
simpler1 if we could throw off a little 
more of our conventional panoply of     
thought1 could face our problems with a 
little more candour and directness1 yet 
,i have had a glimpse of a community    
living an eager1 full1 vigorous life1   
guarded by sufficient discipline to keep
 the members of it wholesomely and      
honourably obedient1 and yet conceding  
as much personal liberty of thought and 
action as the general interest of the   
body can admit4 ,i have seen a place    
full of high possibilities and hopes1   
bestowing a treasure of bright memories 
of work1 of play1 of friendship1 upon   
the majority of its members1 and        
upholding a ,spartan ideal of personal  
subordination to the common weal1 an    
ideal not enforced by law so much as    
sustained by honour1 an institution     
which1 if it does not encourage         
originality1 is yet a sound reflection  

of national tendencies1 and one in which
 the men who work it devote themselves  
unaffectedly and ungrudgingly to the    
interests of the place1 without         
sentiment perhaps1 but without          
ostentation or priggishness4 ,a place   
indeed to which one would wish perhaps  
to add a certain intellectual stimulus1 
a mental liberty1 yet from which there  
is little that one would desire to take 
away4 ,for if one would like to see our 
schools strengthened1 amplified and     
expanded1 yet one would wish the process
 to continue on the existing lines1 and 
not on a different method4 ,so1 in our  
zeal for cultivating the further hope1  
let us who would fain see a purer       
standard of morals1 a more vigorous     
intellectual life prevail in our        
schools1 not overlook the marvellous    
progress that is daily and hourly being 
made1 and keep the taint of fretful     
ingratitude out of our designs2 and     
meanwhile let us1 in the spirit of the  
old ,psalm1 wish ,jerusalem prosperity  

for our brethren and companions' sakes4 
,,xiii4 ,,literary ,,finish   ,i had two
 literary men staying with me a week    
ago1 both of them accomplished writers1 
and interested in their art1 not        
professionally and technically only1 but
 ardently and enthusiastically4 ,i here 
label them respectively ,musgrave and   
,herries4 ,musgrave is a veteran writer1
 a man of fifty1 who makes a            
considerable income by writing1 and has 
succeeded in many                       
departments--biography1 criticism1      
poetry1 essay-writing2 he lacks1        
however1 the creative and imaginative   
gift2 his observation is acute1 and his 
humour considerable2 but he cannot infer
 and deduce2 he cannot carry a situation
 further than he can see it4 ,herries on
 the other hand is a much younger man1  
with an interest in human beings that is
 emotional rather than spectacular2     
while ,musgrave is interested mainly in 
the present1 ,herries lives in the past 
or the future4 ,musgrave sees what      

people do and how they behave1 while    
,herries is for ever thinking how they  
must have behaved to produce their      
present conditions1 or how they would be
 likely to act under different          
conditions4 ,musgrave's one object is to
 discover what he calls the truth2      
,herries thrives and battens upon       
illusions4 ,musgrave is fond of the     
details of life1 loves food and drink1  
conviviality and social engagements1 new
 people and unfamiliar places--,herries 
is quite indifferent to the garniture of
 life1 lives in great personal          
discomfort1 dislikes mixed assemblies   
and chatter1 and has a fastidious       
dislike of the present1 whatever it is1 
from a sense that possibilities are so  
much richer than performances4 ,musgrave
 admits that he has been more successful
 as a writer than he deserves2 ,herries 
is likely1 ,i think1 to disappoint the  
hopes of his friends1 and will not do   
justice to his extraordinary gifts1 from
 a certain dreaminess and lack of       

vitality4 ,musgrave loves the act of    
writing1 and is always full to the brim 
of matter4 ,herries dislikes            
composition1 and is yet drawn to it by a
 sense of fearful responsibility4       
,neither have1 fortunately1 the least   
artistic jealousy4 ,herries regards a   
man like ,musgrave with a sort of       
incredulous stupefaction1 as a stream of
 inexplicable volume4 ,herries has to   
,musgrave all the interest of a very    
delicate and beautiful type1 whose      
fastidiousness he can almost envy4 ,as a
 rule1 literary men will not discuss    
their art among themselves2 they have   
generally arrived at a sort of method of
 their own1 which may not be ideal1 but 
which is the best practical solution for
 themselves1 and they would rather not  
be disquieted about it2 literary talk1  
too1 tends to partake of the nature of  
shop1 and busy men1 as a rule1 like to  
talk the shop of their recreations      
rather than the shop of their           
employment4 ,but ,musgrave will discuss 

anything2 and as for ,herries1 writing  
is not an occupation1 so much as a      
divine vocation which he regards with a 
holy awe4  ,the discussion began at     
dinner1 and ,i was amused to see how it 
affected the two men4 ,musgrave1 by an  
incredible mental agility1 contrived to 
continue to take a critical interest in 
the meal and the argument at the same   
time2 ,herries thrust away an unfinished
 plate1 refused what was offered to him1
 pushed his glasses about as if they    
were chessmen1 filled the nearest with  
water at intervals--he is a rigid       
teetotaller--and drank out of them      
alternately with an abstracted air4     
,the point was the question of literary 
finish1 and the degree to which it can  
or ought to be practised4 ,herries is of
 the school of ,flaubert1 and holds that
 there may be several ways of saying a  
thing1 but only one best way1 and that  
it is alike the duty and the goal of the
 writer to find that way4 ,this he      
enunciated with some firmness4  ,no1    

said ,musgrave1 ,i think that is only a 
theory1 and breaks down1 as all theories
 do1 when it is put in practice3 look at
 all the really big writers3 look at    
,shakespeare--to me his work gives the  
impression of being both hasty and      
uncorrected4 ,if he says a thing in one 
way1 and while he is doing it thinks of 
a more telling form of expression1 he   
doesn't erase the first statement2 he   
merely says it over again more          
effectively4 ,he is full of lapses and  
inappropriate passages--and it is that  
very thing which gives him such an air  
of reality4  ,well1 there is a good deal
 in that1 said ,herries1 but ,i do not  
see how you are going to prove that it  
is not deliberate4 ,shakespeare wrote   
like that in his plays1 breathlessly and
 eagerly1 because that was the aim he   
had in view2 if he makes one of his     
people say a thing tamely1 and then more
 pointedly1 it is because it is exactly 
what people do in real life1 and        
,shakespeare was thinking with their    

mind for the time being4 ,he is behind  
the person he has made1 moving his arms1
 looking through his eyes1 breathing    
through his mouth2 and just as life     
itself is hurried and inconsequent1 so  
the perfection of art is1 not to be     
hurried and inconsequent1 but to give   
one the impression of being so4 ,i don't
 believe he left his work uncorrected   
out of mere impatience4 ,look at the way
 he wrote when he was writing in a      
different manner--look at the ,sonnets1 
for instance--there is plenty of        
calculated art there6  ,yes1 ,i said1   
there is art there1 but ,i don't think  
it is very deliberate art4 ,i don't     
believe they were written ,,slowly4 ,of 
course one can hardly be breathless in a
 sonnet4 ,the rhymes are all stretched  
across the ground1 like wires1 and one  
has to pick one's way among them4       
,well1 take another instance1 said      
,musgrave4 ,look at ,scott4 ,he speaks  
himself of his 'hurried frankness of    
execution4' ,his proof-sheets are the   

most extraordinary things1 full of      
impossible sentences1 lapses of grammar1
 and so forth4 ,he did not do much      
correcting himself1 but ,i believe ,i am
 right in saying that his publishers    
did1 and spent hours in reducing the    
chaos to order4  ,oh1 of course ,i don't
 deny1 said ,herries1 that volume and   
vitality are what matters most4 ,scott's
 imagination was at once prodigious and 
profound4 ,he seems to me to have said  
to his creations1 ',let the young men   
now arise and play before us4' ,but ,i  
don't think his art was the better for  
his carelessness4 ,great and noble as   
the result was1 ,i think it would have  
been greater if he had taken more pains4
 ,of course one regards men of genius   
like ,scott and ,shakespeare with a kind
 of terror--one can forgive them        
anything2 but it is because they do by a
 sort of prodigal instinct what most    
people have to do by painful effort4 ,if
 one's imagination has the poignant     
rightness of ,scott's or ,shakespeare's1

 one's hurried work is better than most 
people's finished work4 ,but people of  
lesser force and power1 if they get     
their stitches wrong1 have to unpick    
them and do it all over again4          
,sometimes ,i have an uneasy sense1 when
 ,i am writing1 that my characters are  
feeling as if their clothes do not fit4 
,then they have to be undressed1 so to  
speak1 that one may see where the       
garments gall them4 ,now1 take a book   
like ,madame ,bovary1 painfully and     
laboriously constructed--it seems       
obvious enough1 yet the more one reads  
it the more one becomes aware how every 
stroke and detail tell4 ,what almost    
appals me about that book is the way in 
which the end is foreseen in the        
beginning1 the way in which ,flaubert   
seems to have carried the whole thing in
 his head all the time1 to have known   
exactly where he was going and how fast 
he was going4  ,that is perfectly true1 
,i said4 ,but take an instance of       
another of ,flaubert's books1 ,bouvard  

et ,pecuchet1 where the same method is  
pursued with what ,i can only call      
deplorable results4 ,every detail is    
perfect of its kind4 ,the two grotesque 
creatures take up one pursuit after     
another1 agriculture1 education1        
antiquities1 horticulture1 distilling   
perfumes1 making jam4 ,in each they make
 exactly the absurd mistakes that such  
people would have made2 but one loses   
all sense of reality1 because one feels 
that they would not have taken up so    
many things2 it is only a collection of 
typical absurdities4 ,given the men and 
the particular pursuit1 it is all       
natural enough1 but one wearies of the  
same process being applied an impossible
 number of times1 just as ,flaubert was 
often so intolerable in real life1      
because he ran a joke to death1 and     
never knew when to put it down4 ,the    
result in ,bouvard et ,pecuchet is a    
lack of proportion and subordination4   
,it is like one of the early            
,pre-,raphaelite pictures1 in which     

every detail is painted with minute     
perfection4 ,it was all there1 no doubt1
 and it was all exactly like that2 but  
that is not how the human eye apprehends
 a scene4 ,the human mind takes a       
central point1 and groups the           
accessories round it4 ,in art1 ,i think 
everything depends upon centralisation4 
,two lovers part1 and the birds' faint  
chirp from the leafless tree1 the       
smouldering rim of the sunset over misty
 fields1 are true and symbolical parts  
of the scene2 but if you deal in botany 
and ornithology and meteorology at such 
a moment1 you cloud and dim the central 
point--you digress when you ought only  
to emphasise4  ,oh yes1 said ,herries   
with a sigh1 that is all right          
enough--it all depends upon proportion2 
and the worst of all these discussions  
on points of art is that each person has
 to find his own standard--one can't    
accept other people's standards4 ,to me 
,bouvard et ,pecuchet is a piece of     
almost flawless art--it is there--it    

lives and breathes4 ,i don't like it    
all1 of course1 but ,i don't doubt that 
it happened so4 ,there must be an       
absolute rightness behind all supreme   
writing4 ,art must have laws as real and
 immutable and elaborate as those of    
science and metaphysics and             
religion--that is the central article of
 my creed4  ,but the worst of that      
theory is1 ,i said1 that one lays down  
canons of taste1 which are very neat and
 pretty2 and then there comes some new  
writer of genius1 knocks all the old    
canons into fragments1 and establishes a
 new law4 ,canons of art seem to me     
sometimes nothing more than             
classifications of the way that genius  
works4 ,i find it very hard to believe  
that there is a pattern1 so to speak1   
for the snuffers and the candlesticks1  
revealed to ,moses in the mount4 ,it was
 ,moses' idea of a pair of snuffers1    
when all is said4  ,i entirely agree1   
said ,musgrave2 the only ultimate basis 
of all criticism is1 ',i like it because

 ,i like it'--and the connoisseurs of   
any age are merely the people who have  
the faculty of agreeing1 ,i won't say   
with the majority1 but with the majority
 of competent critics4  ,no1 no1 said   
,herries1 raising his mournful eyes to  
,musgrave's face1 don't talk like that6 
,you take my faith away from me4 ,surely
 there must be some central canon of    
morality in art1 just as there is in    
ethics4 ,for instance1 in ethics1 is it 
conceivable that cruelty might become   
right1 if only enough people thought it 
was right8 ,is there no absolute        
principle at all8 ,in art1 what about   
the great pictures and the great poems1 
which have approved themselves to the   
best minds in generation after          
generation8 ,their rightness and their  
beauty are only attested by critics1    
they are surely not created by them8 ,my
 view is that there is an absolute law  
of beauty1 and that we grow nearer to it
 by slow degrees4 ,sometimes1 as with   
the ,greeks1 people got very near to it 

indeed4 ,is it conceivable1 for         
instance1 that men could ever come to   
regard the ,venus of ,milo as ugly8     
,why yes1 said ,musgrave1 laughing1 ,i  
suppose that if humanity developed on   
different lines1 and a new type of      
beauty became desirable1 we might come  
to look upon the ,venus of ,milo as a   
barbarous and savage kind of object1 a  
dreadful parody of what we had become1  
like a female chimpanzee4 ,to a male    
chimpanzee1 the wrinkled brow1 the long 
upper lip1 the deeply indented lines    
from nose to mouth1 of a female         
chimpanzee in the prime of adolescence1 
is1 ,i suppose1 almost intolerably      
dazzling and adorable--beauty can only  
be a relative thing1 when all is said4  
,we are drifting away from our point1 ,i
 said4 ,the question really is whether1 
as art expands1 the principles become   
fewer or more numerous4 ,my own belief  
is that the principles do become fewer1 
but the varieties of expression more    
numerous4 ,keats tried to sum it up by  

saying1 ',beauty is ,truth1 ,truth      
,beauty'2 but it is not a successful    
maxim1 because1 as a peevish philosopher
 said1 ',why in that case have two words
 for the same thing8'  ,but it is true1 
in a sense1 for all that1 said ,herries4
 ,what we ,,have learnt is that the     
subject is of very little importance in 
art--it is the expression that matters4 
,genre pictures1 plots of novels1       
incidents of plays--they are all rather 
elementary things4 ,flaubert looked     
forward to a time in art when there     
should be no subjects at all1 when art  
should aspire to the condition of music1
 and express the intangible4  ,i        
confess1 said ,musgrave1 laughing1 that 
that statement conveys nothing to me4 ,a
 painter1 on that line1 would depict    
nothing1 but simply produce a sort of   
harmony of colour4 ,a picture would     
become simply a texture of              
colour-vibrations4 ,my own view is      
rather that it is a question of accurate
 observation1 followed by an extreme    

delicacy and suggestiveness of          
expression4 ,some people would say that 
it was all a question of reality2 and   
that the point is that the writer shall 
suggest a reality to his reader1 even   
though the picture he evoked in the     
reader's mind was not the same as the   
picture in his own mind--but that is to 
me pure symbolism4  ,exactly1 said      
,herries1 and the more symbolical that  
art becomes1 the purer it becomes--that 
is precisely what ,i am aiming at4      
,well1 ,i said1 that gives me an        
opportunity of making a confession4 ,i  
have never really been able to          
understand what technical symbolism in  
art is4 ,a symbol in the plain sense is 
something which recalls or suggests to  
you something else2 and thus the whole  
of art is pure symbolism4 ,the flick of 
colour gives you a distant woodland1 the
 phrase gives you a scene or an emotion4
 ,five printed words upon a page make   
one suffer or rejoice imaginatively2 and
 my idea of the most perfect art is not 

the art which gives one a sense of      
laborious finish1 but the art in which  
you never think of the finish at all1   
but only of the thing described4 ,the   
end of effort is to conceal effort1 as  
the old adage says4 ,some people1 ,i    
suppose1 attain it through a series of  
misses2 but the best art of all goes    
straight to the heart of the thing4     
,yes1 said ,musgrave1 my own feeling is 
that the mistake is to consider it can  
only be done in one way4 ,each person   
has his own way2 but ,i agree in        
thinking that the best art is the most  
effortless4  ,from the point of view of 
the onlooker1 perhaps1 said ,herries1   
but not from the point of view of the   
craftsman4 ,the pleasure of art1 for the
 craftsman1 is to see what the          
difficulty was1 and to discern how the  
artist triumphed over it4 ,think of the 
delightful individual roughness of old  
work as opposed to modern machine-made  
things4 ,there is an appropriate        
irregularity1 according to the medium   

employed4 ,the workmanship of a gem is  
not the same as that of a building2 the 
essence of the gem is to be flawless2   
but in the building there is a pleasure 
in the tool-dints1 like the pleasure of 
the rake-marks on the gravel path4 ,of  
course music must be flawless too--firm1
 resolute1 inevitable1 because the      
medium demands it2 but in a big         
picture--why1 the other day ,i saw a    
great oil-painting1 a noble piece of    
art--,i came upon it in the ,academy1 by
 a side door close upon it4 ,the        
background was a great tangled mass of  
raw crude smears1 more like coloured    
rags patched together than paint2 but a 
few paces off1 the whole melted into a  
great river-valley1 with deep           
water-meadows of summer grass and big   
clumps of trees4 ,that is the perfect   
combination4 ,the man knew exactly what 
he wanted--he got his effect--the       
structure was complete1 and yet there   
was the added pleasure of seeing how he 
achieved it4 ,that is the kind of finish

 ,i desire4  ,yes1 of course1 said      
,musgrave1 we should all agree about    
that2 but my feeling would be that the  
way to do it is for the artist to fill  
himself to the brim with the subject1   
and to let it burst out4 ,i do not at   
all believe in the painful pinching and 
pulling together of a particular bit of 
work4 ,that sort of process is excellent
 practice1 but it seems to me like the  
receipt in one of ,edwin ,lear's        
,nonsense ,books for making some noisome
 dish1 into which all sorts of          
ingredients of a loathsome kind were to 
be put2 and the directions end with the 
words3 ',serve up in a cloth1 and throw 
all out of the window as soon as        
possible4' ,it is an excellent thing to 
take all the trouble1 if you throw it   
away when it is done2 you will do your  
next piece of real work all the better2 
but for a piece of work to have the best
 kind of vitality1 it must flow1 ,i     
believe1 easily and sweetly from the    
teeming mind4 ,take such a book as      

,newman's ,apologia1 written in a few   
weeks1 a piece of perfect art--but then 
it was written in tears4  ,but on the   
other hand1 said ,i1 look at ,ariosto's 
,orlando2 it took ten years to write and
 sixteen more to correct--and there is  
not a forced or a languid line in the   
whole of it4  ,yes1 said ,musgrave1 it  
is true1 of course1 that people must do 
things in their own way4 ,but1 on the   
whole1 the best work is done in speed   
and glow1 and derives from that swift   
handling a unity1 a curve1 that nothing 
else can give4 ,what matters is to have 
a clear sense of structure1 and that1 at
 all events1 cannot be secured by poky  
and fretful treatment4 ,that is where   
intellectual grasp comes in4 ,but1 even 
so1 it all depends upon what one likes1 
and ,i confess that ,i like large       
handling better than perfection of      
detail4  ,i believe1 ,i said1 that we   
really all agree4 ,we all believe in    
largeness and vitality as the essential 
qualities4 ,but in the lesser kinds of  

art there is a delicacy and a perfection
 which are appropriate4 ,an attention to
 minutiae which the graving of a gem or 
the making of a sonnet demands is out of
 place in a cathedral or an epic4 ,we   
none of us would approve of hasty1      
slovenly1 clumsy work anywhere2 all that
 is to be demanded is that such         
irregularity as can be detected should  
not be inappropriate irregularity4 ,what
 we disagree about is only the precise  
amount of finish which is appropriate to
 the particular work4 ,musgrave would   
hold1 in the case of ,flaubert1 that he 
was1 in his novels1 trying to give to   
the cathedral the finish of the gem1 and
 polishing a colossal statue as though  
it were a tiny statuette4  ,yes1 said   
,herries mournfully1 ,i suppose that is 
right2 though when ,i read of ,flaubert 
spending hours of torture in the search 
for a single epithet1 ,i do not feel    
that the sacrifice was made in vain if  
only the result was achieved4  ,but ,i1 
said ,musgrave1 grudge the time so      

spent4 ,i would rather have more        
less-finished work than little exquisite
 work--though ,i suppose that we shall  
come to the latter sometime1 when the   
treasures of art have accumulated even  
more hopelessly than now1 and when      
nothing but perfect work will have a    
chance of recognition4 ,then perhaps a  
man will spend thirty years in writing a
 short story1 and twenty more in        
polishing it6 ,but at present there is  
much that is unsaid which may well be   
said1 and ,i confess that ,i do not     
hanker after this careful and troubled  
work4 ,it reminds me of the terrible    
story of the ,chinaman who spent fifty  
years in painting a vase which cracked  
in the furnace4 ,it seems to me like the
 worst kind of waste4  ,and ,i1 on the  
other hand1 said ,herries gravely1 think
 that such a life is almost as noble a  
one as ,i can well conceive4  ,his words
 sounded to me like a kind of pontifical
 blessing pronounced at the end of a    
liturgical service2 and1 dinner now     

being over1 we adjourned to the library4
 ,then ,musgrave entertained us with an 
account of a squabble he had lately had 
with a certain editor1 who had          
commissioned him to write a set of      
papers on literary subjects1 and then   
had objected to his treatment4 ,musgrave
 had trailed his coat before the unhappy
 man1 laid traps for him by dint of     
asking him ingenuous questions1 had     
written an article elaborately          
constructed to parody derisively the    
editor's point of view1 had meekly      
submitted it as one of the series1 and  
then1 when the harried wretch again     
objected1 had confronted him with       
illustrative extracts from his own      
letters4 ,it was a mirthful if not a    
wholly good-natured performance4        
,herries had listened with ill-concealed
 disgust1 and excused himself at the end
 of the recital on the plea of work4    
,as the door closed behind him1         
,musgrave said with a wink1 ,i am afraid
 my story has rather disgusted our young

 transcendentalist4 ,he has no pleasure 
in a wholesome row2 he thinks the whole 
thing vulgar--and ,i believe he is      
probably right2 but ,i can't live on his
 level1 though ,i am sure it is very    
fine and all that4  ,but what do you    
really think of his work8 ,i said4 ,it  
is very promising1 isn't it8  ,yes1 said
 ,musgrave reflectively1 that is just   
what it is--he has got a really fine    
literary gift2 but he is too            
uncompromising4 ,idealism in art is a   
deuced fine thing1 and every now and    
then there comes a man who can keep it  
up1 and can afford to do so4 ,but what  
,herries does not understand is that    
there are two sides to art--the theory  
and the practice4 ,it is just the same  
with a lot of things--education1 for    
instance1 and religion4 ,but the danger 
is that the theorists become pedantic4  
,they get entirely absorbed in questions
 of form1 and the plain truth is that   
however good your form is1 you have got 
to get hold of your matter too4 ,the    

point after all is the application of   
art to life1 and you have got to        
condescend4 ,things of which the        
ultimate end is to affect human beings  
must take human beings into account4 ,if
 you aim at appealing only to other     
craftsmen1 it becomes an erudite        
business3 you become like a carpenter   
who makes things which are of no use    
except to win the admiration of other   
carpenters4 ,of course it may be worth  
doing if you are content with indicating
 a treatment which other people can     
apply and popularise4 ,but if you       
isolate art into a theory which has no  
application to life1 you are a savant   
and not an artist4 ,you can't be an     
artist without being a man1 and         
therefore ,i hold that humanity comes   
first4 ,i don't mean that one need be   
vulgar4 ,of course ,i am a mere         
professional1 and my primary aim is to  
earn an honest livelihood4 ,i frankly   
confess that ,i don't pose1 even to     
myself1 as a public benefactor4 ,but    

,herries does not care either about an  
income1 or about touching other people4 
,of course ,i should like to raise the  
standard4 ,i should like to see ordinary
 people capable of perceiving what is   
good art1 and not so wholly at the mercy
 of conventional and melodramatic art4  
,but ,herries does not care twopence    
about that4 ,he is like the ,calvinist  
who is sure of his own salvation1 has   
his doubts about the minister1 and      
thinks every one else irreparably       
damned4 ,as ,i say1 it is a lofty sort  
of ideal1 but it is not a good sign when
 that sort of thing begins4 ,the best   
art of the world--let us say ,homer1    
,virgil1 ,dante1 ,shakespeare--was      
contributed by people who probably did  
not think about it as art at all4 ,fancy
 ,homer going in for questions of form6 
,it is always1 ,i believe1 a sign of    
decadence when formalism begins4 ,it is 
just like religion1 which starts with a 
teacher who has an overwhelming sense of
 the beauty of holiness2 and then that  

degenerates into theology4 ,these young 
men are to art what the theologians are 
to religion4 ,they lose sight of the    
object of the whole thing in            
codification and definition4 ,my own    
idea of a great artist is a man who     
finds beauty so hopelessly attractive   
and desirable that he can't restrain his
 speech4 ,it all has to come out2 he    
cannot hold his peace4 ,and then a      
number of people begin to see that it   
was what they had been vaguely admiring 
and desiring all the time2 and then a   
few highly intellectual people think    
that they can analyse it1 and produce   
the same effects by applying their      
analysis4 ,it can't be done so2 art must
 have a life of its own4  ,yes1 ,i said1
 ,i think you are right4 ,herries is    
ascetic and eremitical--a beautiful     
thing in many ways2 but there is no     
transmission of life in such art2 it is 
a sterile thing after all1 a seedless   
flower4  ,let us express the vulgar     
hope1 said ,musgrave1 that he may fall  

in love2 that will bring him to his     
moorings6 ,and now1 he added1 we will go
 to the music-room and ,i will see if ,i
 cannot tempt the shy bird from his     
roost4 ,and so we did--,musgrave is an  
excellent musician4 ,we flung the       
windows open2 he embarked upon a great  
,bach ,toccata2 and before many bars    
were over1 our idealist crept softly    
into the room1 with an air of apologetic
 forgiveness4     ,,xiv4 ,a ,,midsummer 
,,day',s ,,dream   ,i suppose that every
 one knows by experience how certain    
days in one's life have a power of      
standing out in the memory1 even in a   
tract of pleasant days1 all lit by a    
particular brightness of joy4 ,one does 
not always know at the time that the day
 is going to be so crowned2 but the     
weeks pass on1 and the one little space 
of sunlight1 between dawn and eve1 has  
orbed itself              into the      
perfect star      ,we saw not1 when we  
moved therein4   ,the thing that in my  
own case most tends to produce this     

grace of congruity1 as the schoolmen    
say1 is the presence of the right       
companion1 and it is no less important  
that he should be in the right mood4    
,sometimes the right companion is       
tiresome when he should be gracious1 or 
boisterous when he should be quiet2 but 
when he is in the right mood1 he is like
 a familiar and sympathetic guide on a  
mountain peak4 ,he helps one at the     
right point2 his desire to push on or to
 stop coincides with one's own2 he is   
not a hired assistant1 but a brotherly  
comrade4 ,on the day that ,i am thinking
 of ,i had just such a companion4 ,he   
was cheerful1 accessible1 good-humoured4
 ,he followed when ,i wanted to lead1 he
 led when ,i was glad to follow4 ,he was
 not ashamed of being unaffectedly      
emotional1 and he was not vaporous or   
quixotically sentimental4 ,he did not   
want to argue1 or to hunt an idea to    
death2 and we had the supreme delight of
 long silences1 during which our        
thoughts led us to the same point1 the  

truest test that there is some subtle   
electrical affinity at work1 moving     
viewlessly between heart and brain4     
,what no doubt heightened the pleasure  
for me was that ,i had been passing     
through a somewhat dreary period4       
,things had been going wrong1 had tied  
themselves into knots4 ,several people  
whose fortunes had been bound up with my
 own had been acting perversely and     
unreasonably--at least ,i chose to think
 so4 ,my own work had come to a         
standstill4 ,i had pushed on perhaps too
 fast1 and ,i had got into a bare sort  
of moorland tract of life1 and could not
 discern the path in the heather4 ,there
 did not seem any particular task for me
 to undertake2 the people whom it was my
 business to help1 if ,i could1 seemed  
unaccountably and aggravatingly         
prosperous and independent4 ,not only   
did no one seem to want my opinion1 but 
,i did not feel that ,i had any opinions
 worth delivering4 ,who does not know   
the frame of mind8 ,when life seems     

rather an objectless business1 and one  
is tempted just to let things slide2    
when energy is depleted1 and the springs
 of hope are low2 when one feels like   
the family in one of ,mrs4 ,walford's   
books1 who all go out to dinner         
together1 and of whom the only fact that
 is related is that nobody wanted them4 
,so fared it with my soul4  ,but that   
morning1 somehow1 the delicious sense   
had returned1 of its own accord1 of a   
beautiful quality in common things4 ,i  
had sought it in vain for weeks2 it had 
behaved as a cat behaves1 the perverse1 
soft1 pretty1 indifferent creature4 ,it 
had stared blankly at my beckoning hand2
 it had gambolled away into the bushes  
when ,i strove to capture it1 and looked
 out at me when ,i desisted with        
innocent grey eyes2 and now it had      
suddenly returned uncalled1 to caress me
 as though ,i had been a long-lost      
friend1 diligently and anxiously sought 
for in vain4 ,that morning the very     
scent of breakfast being prepared came  

to my nostrils like the smoke of a      
sacrifice in my honour2 the shape and   
hue of the flowers were full of gracious
 mystery2 the green pasture seemed a    
place where a middle-aged man might     
almost venture to dance4 ,the sharp     
chirping of the birds in the shrubbery  
seemed a concert arranged for my ear4   
,we were soon astir4 ,like ,wordsworth  
we said that this one day we would give 
to idleness1 though the profane might   
ask to what that leisurely poet         
consecrated the rest of his days4  ,we  
found ourselves deposited1 by a brisk   
train--the very stoker seemed to be     
engaged in the joyful conspiracy--at the
 little town of ,st4 ,ives4 ,i should   
like to expatiate upon the charms of    
,st4 ,ives1 its clear1 broad1           
rush-fringed river1 its quaint brick    
houses1 with their little wharf-gardens1
 where the trailing nasturtium mirrors  
itself in the slow flood1 its embayed   
bridge1 with the ancient chapel         
buttressed over the stream--but ,i must 

hold my hand2 ,i must not linger over   
the beauties of the ,city of            
,destruction1 which ,i have every reason
 to believe was a very picturesque      
place1 when our hearts were set on      
pilgrimage4 ,suffice it to say that we  
walked along a pretty riverside         
causeway1 under enlacing limes1 past the
 fine church1 under the hanging woods of
 ,houghton ,hill--and here we found a   
mill1 a big1 timbered place1 with a     
tiled roof1 odd galleries and projecting
 pent-houses1 all pleasantly dusted with
 flour1 where a great wheel turned      
dripping in a fern-clad cavern of its   
own1 with the scent of the weedy        
river-water blown back from the plunging
 leat4 ,oh1 the joyful place of streams6
 ,river and leat and back-water here ran
 clear among willow-clad islands1 all   
fringed deep with meadow-sweet and      
comfrey and butterbur and melilot4 ,the 
sun shone overhead among big1 white1    
racing clouds2 the fish poised in       
mysterious pools among trailing         

water-weeds2 and there was soon no room 
in my heart for anything but the joy of 
earth and the beauty of it4 ,what did   
the weary days before and behind matter8
 ,what did casuistry and determinism and
 fate and the purpose of life concern us
 then1 my friend and me8 ,as little as  
they concerned the gnats that danced so 
busily in the golden light1 at the      
corner where the alder dipped her red   
rootlets to drink the brimming stream4  
,there we chartered a boat1 and all that
 hot forenoon rowed lazily on1 the oars 
grunting and dripping1 the rudder       
clicking softly through avenues of reeds
 and water-plants1 from reach to reach1 
from pool to pool4 ,here we had a       
glimpse of the wide-watered valley rich 
in grass1 here of silent woods1 up-piled
 in the distance1 over which quivered   
the hot summer air4 ,here a herd of     
cattle stood knee-deep in the shallow   
water1 lazily twitching their tails and 
snuffing at the stream4 ,the birds were 
silent now in the glowing noon2 only the

 reeds shivered and bowed4 ,there1      
beside a lock with its big1 battered    
timbers1 the water poured green and     
translucent through a half-shut sluice4 
,now and then the springs of thought    
brimmed over in a few quiet words1 that 
came and passed like a breaking         
bubble--but for the most part we were   
silent1 content to converse with nod or 
smile4 ,and so we came at last to our   
goal2 a house embowered in leaves1 a    
churchyard beside the water1 and a      
church that seemed to have almost crept 
to the brink to see itself mirrored in  
the stream4 ,the place mortals call     
,hemingford ,grey1 but it had a new name
 for me that day which ,i cannot even   
spell--for the perennial difficulty that
 survives a hundred disenchantments1 is 
to feel that a romantic hamlet seen thus
 on a day of pilgrimage1 with its       
clustering roofs and chimneys1 its      
waterside lawns1 is a real place at all4
 ,i suppose that people there live dull 
and simple lives enough1 buy and sell1  

gossip and back-bite1 wed and die2 but  
for the pilgrim it seems an enchanted   
place1 where there can be no care or    
sorrow1 nothing hard1 or unlovely1 or   
unclean1 but a sort of fairy-land1 where
 men seem to be living the true and     
beautiful life of the soul1 of which we 
are always in search1 but which seems to
 be so strangely hidden away4 ,it must  
have been for me and my friend that the 
wise and kindly artist who lives there  
in a paradise of flowers had filled his 
trellises with climbing roses1 and      
bidden the tall larkspurs raise their   
azure spires in the air4 ,how else had  
he brought it all to such perfection for
 that golden hour8 ,perhaps he did not  
even guess that he had done it all for  
my sake1 which made it so much more     
gracious a gift4 ,and then we learned   
too from a little red-bound volume which
 ,i had thought before was a guide-book1
 but which turned out to-day to be a    
volume of the ,book of ,life1 that the  
whole place was alive with the calling  

of old voices4 ,at the little church    
there across the meadows the portly1    
tender-hearted1 generous ,charles ,james
 ,fox had wedded his bride4 ,here1 in   
the pool below1 ,cowper's dog had       
dragged out for him the yellow          
water-lily that he could not reach2 and 
in the church itself was a little slab  
where two tiny maidens sleep1 the       
sisters of the famous ,miss ,gunnings1  
who set all hearts ablaze by their      
beauty1 who married dukes and earls1 and
 had spent their sweet youth in a little
 ruined manor-house hard by4 ,i wonder  
whether after all the two little girls1 
who died in the time of roses1 had not  
the better part2 and whether the great  
,duchess1 who showed herself so haughty 
to poor ,boswell1 when he led his great 
dancing ,bear through the grim ,north1  
did not think sometimes in her state of 
the childish sisters with whom she had  
played1 before they came to be laid in  
the cool chancel beside the slow stream4
  ,and then we sate down for a little on

 the churchyard wall1 and watched the   
water-grasses trail and the fish poise4 
,in that sweet corner of the churchyard1
 at a certain season of the year1 grow  
white violets2 they had dropped their   
blooms long ago2 but they were just as  
much alive as when they were speaking   
aloud to the world with scent and       
colour2 ,i can never think of flowers   
and trees as not in a sense conscious2  
,i believe all life to be conscious of  
itself1 and ,i am sure that the         
flowering time is the happy time for    
flowers as much as it is for artists4   
,close to us here was a wall1 with a    
big1 solid ,georgian house peeping over1
 blinking with its open windows and     
sun-blinds on to a smooth1 shaded lawn1 
full of green glooms and leafy shelters4
 ,why did it all give one such a sense  
of happiness and peace1 even though one 
had no share in it1 even though one knew
 that one would be treated as a rude and
 illegal intruder if one stepped across 
and used it as one's own8  ,this is a   

difficult thing to analyse4 ,it all lies
 in the imagination2 one thinks of a    
long perspective of sunny afternoons1 of
 leisurely people sitting out in chairs 
under the big sycamore1 reading perhaps1
 or talking quietly1 or closing the book
 to think1 the memory re-telling some   
old and pretty tale2 and then perhaps   
some graceful girl comes out of the     
house with a world of hopes and innocent
 desires in her wide-open eyes2 or a    
tall and limber boy saunters out        
bare-headed and flannelled1 conscious of
 life and health1 and steps down to the 
punt that lies swinging at its          
chain--one hears it rattle as it is     
untied and flung into the prow2 and then
 the dripping pole is plunged and       
raised1 and the punt goes gliding away1 
through zones of glimmering light and   
shadow1 to the bathing-pool4 ,all that  
comes into one's mind2 one takes life1  
and subtracts from it all care and      
anxiety1 all the shadow of failure and  
suffering1 sees it as it might be1 and  

finds it good4 ,that is the first       
element of the charm4 ,and then there   
comes into the picture a further and    
more reflective charm1 that which       
,tennyson called the passion of the     
past2 the thought that all this         
beautiful life is slipping away1 even as
 it forms itself1 that one cannot stay  
it for an instant1 but that the shadow  
creeps across the dial1 and the         
church-clock tells the hours of the     
waning day4 ,it is a mistake to think   
that such a sense comes of age and      
experience2 it is rather the other way1 
for never is the regretful sense of the 
fleeting quality of things realised with
 greater poignancy than when one is     
young4 ,when one grows older one begins 
to expect a good deal of dissatisfaction
 and anxiety to be mingled with it all1 
one finds the old ,horatian maxim       
becoming true3        ,vitae summa      
brevis nos spem vitat inchoare longam1  
and one learns to be grateful for the   
sunny hour2 but when one is young1 one  

feels so capable of enjoying it all1 so 
impatient of shadow and rain1 that one  
cannot bear that the sweet wine of life 
should be diluted4  ,that is1 ,i        
believe1 the analysis of the charm of   
such a scene2 the possibility of joy1   
and permanence1 tinged with the pathos  
that it has no continuance1 but rises   
and falls and fades like a ripple in the
 stream4  ,the disillusionment of       
experience is a very different thing    
from the pathos of youth2 for in youth  
the very sense of pathos is in itself an
 added luxury of joy1 giving it a       
delicate beauty which1 if it were not so
 evanescent1 it could not possess4  ,but
 then comes the real trouble1 the heavy 
anxiety1 the illness1 the loss2 and     
those things1 which looked so romantic  
in the pages of poets and the scenes of 
story-writers1 turn out not to be       
romantic at all1 but frankly and plainly
 disagreeable and intolerable things4   
,the boy who swept down the shining     
reaches with long1 deft strokes becomes 

a man--money runs short1 his children   
give him anxiety1 his wife becomes      
ailing and fretful1 he has a serious    
illness2 and when after a day of pain he
 limps out in the afternoon to the      
shadow of the old plane-tree1 he must be
 a very wise and tranquil and patient   
man1 if he can still feel to the full   
the sweet influences of the place1 and  
be still absorbed and comforted by them4
  ,and here lies the weakness of the    
epicurean and artistic attitude1 that it
 assorts so ill with the harder and     
grimmer facts of life4 ,life has a habit
 of twitching away the artistic chair   
with all its cushions from under one1   
with a rude suddenness1 so that one has1
 if one is wise1 to learn a mental      
agility and to avoid the temptation of  
drowsing in the land where it is always 
afternoon4 ,the real attitude is to be  
able to play a robust and manful part in
 the world1 and yet to be able to banish
 the thought of the bank-book and the   
ledger from the mind1 and to submit     

oneself to the sweet influences of      
summer and sun4        ,he who of such  
delights can judge1 and spare       ,to 
interpose them oft is not unwise4   ,so 
sang the old ,puritan poet2 and there is
 a large wisdom in the word ,,oft which 
,i have abundantly envied1 being myself 
an anxious-minded man6  ,the solution is
 ,,balance--not to think that the repose
 of art is all1 and yet on the other    
hand not to believe that life is always 
jogging and hustling one4 ,the way in   
which one can test one's progress is by 
considering whether activities and      
tiresome engagements are beginning to   
fret one unduly1 for if so one is       
becoming a hedonist2 and on the other   
hand by being careful to observe whether
 one becomes incapable of taking a      
holiday2 if one becomes bored and       
restless and hipped in a cessation of   
activities1 then one is suffering from  
the disease of ,martha in the ,gospel   
story2 and of the two sisters we may    
remember that ,martha was the one who   

incurred a public rebuke4  ,what one has
 to try to perceive is that life is     
designed not wholly for discomfort1 or  
wholly for ease1 but that we are here as
 learners1 one and all4 ,sometimes the  
lesson comes whispering through the     
leaves of the plane-tree1 with the scent
 of violets in the air2 sometimes it    
comes in the words and glances of a     
happy circle full of eager talk1        
sometimes through the pages of a wise   
book1 and sometimes in grim hours1 when 
one tosses sleepless on one's bed under 
the pressure of an intolerable          
thought--but in each and every case we  
do best when we receive the lesson as   
willingly and large-heartedly as we can4
  ,perhaps1 in some of my writings1     
those who have read them have thought   
that ,i have unduly emphasised the      
brighter1 sweeter1 more tranquil side of
 life4 ,i have done so deliberately1    
because ,i believe that we should follow
 innocent joy as far as we can4 ,but it 
is not because ,i am unaware of the     

other side4 ,i do not think that any of 
the windings of the dark wood of which  
,dante speaks are unknown to me1 and    
there are few tracts of dreariness that 
,i have not trodden reluctantly4 ,i have
 had physical health and much seeming   
prosperity2 but to be acutely sensitive 
to the pleasures of happiness and peace 
is generally to be morbidly sensitive to
 the burden of cares4 ,unhappiness is a 
subjective thing4 ,as ,mrs4 ,gummidge so
 truly said1 when she was reminded that 
other people had their troubles1 ,i feel
 them more4 ,and if ,i have upheld the  
duty of seeking peace1 it has been like 
a preacher who preaches most urgently   
against his own bosom-sins4 ,but ,i am  
sure of this1 that however impatiently  
one mourns one's fault and desires to be
 different1 the secret of growth lies in
 that very sorrow1 perhaps in the       
seeming impotence of that sorrow4 ,what 
one must desire is to learn the truth1  
however much one may shudder at it2 and 
the longer that one persists in one's   

illusions1 the longer is one's          
learning-time4 ,is it not a bitter      
comfort to know that the truth is there1
 and that what we believe or do not     
believe about it makes no difference at 
all8 ,yes1 ,i think it is a comfort2 at 
all events upon that foundation alone is
 it possible to rest4  ,how far one     
drifts in thought away from the sweet   
scene which grows sweeter every hour4   
,the heat of the day is over now2 the   
breeze curls on the stream1 the shadow  
of the tower falls far across the water4
 ,my companion rises and smiles1        
thinking me lost in indolent content2 he
 hardly guesses how far ,i have been    
voyaging        ,on strange seas of     
thought alone4   ,does he guess that as 
,i look back over my life1 pain has so  
far preponderated over happiness that ,i
 would not1 if ,i could1 live it again1 
and that ,i would not in truth1 if ,i   
could choose1 have lived it at all8 ,and
 yet1 even so1 ,i recognise that ,i am  
glad not to have the choice1 for it     

would be made in an indolent and timid  
spirit1 and ,i do indeed believe that   
the end is not yet1 and that the hour   
will assuredly come when ,i shall       
rejoice to have lived1 and see the      
meaning even of my fears4  ,and then we 
retrace our way1 and like the ,lady of  
,shalott step down into the boat1 to    
glide along the darkling water-way in   
the westering light4 ,why cannot ,i     
speak to my friend of such dark things  
as these8 ,it would be better perhaps if
 ,i could1 and yet no hand can help us  
to bear our own burden4  ,but the dusk  
comes slowly on1 merging reed and       
pasture and gliding stream in one       
indistinguishable shade2 the trees stand
 out black against the sunset1          
thickening to an emerald green4 ,a star 
comes out over the dark hill1 the lights
 begin to peep out in the windows of the
 clustering town as we draw nearer4 ,as 
we glide beneath the dark houses1 with  
their gables and chimneys dark against  
the glowing sky1 how everything that is 

dull and trivial and homely is blotted  
out by the twilight1 leaving nothing but
 a sense of romantic beauty of          
mysterious peace6 ,the little town      
becomes an enchanted city full of heroic
 folk2 the figure that leans silently   
over the bridge to see us pass1 to what 
high-hearted business is he vowed1      
burgher or angel8 ,a spell is woven of  
shadow and falling light1 and of chimes 
floating over meadow and stream4 ,yet   
this sense of something remotely and    
unutterably beautiful1 this             
transfiguration of life1 is as real and 
vital an experience as the daily1 dreary
 toil1 and to be welcomed as such4 ,nay1
 more6 it is better1 because it gives   
one a deepened sense of value1 of       
significance1 of eternal greatness1 to  
which we must cling as firmly as we may1
 because it is there that the final     
secret lies2 not in the poor struggles1 
the anxious delays1 which are but the   
incidents of the voyage1 and not the    
serene life of haven and home4     ,,xv4

 ,,symbols   ,the present time is an era
 when intellectual persons are ashamed  
of being credulous4 ,it is the perfectly
 natural and desirable result of the    
working of the scientific spirit4       
,everything is relentlessly             
investigated1 the enormous structure of 
natural law is being discovered to      
underlie all the most surprising1       
delicate1 and apparently fortuitous     
processes1 and no one can venture to    
forecast where the systematisation will 
end4 ,the result is a great inrush of   
bracing and invigorating candour4 ,it is
 not that our liberty of reflection and 
action is increased4 ,it is rather      
increasingly limited4 ,but at least we  
are growing to discern where our        
boundaries are1 and it is deeply        
refreshing to find that the boundaries  
erected by humanity are much closer and 
more cramping than the boundaries       
determined by ,god4 ,we are no longer   
bound by human authority1 by subjective 
theories1 by petty tradition4 ,we are no

 longer required to tremble before      
thaumaturgy and conjuring and occultism4
 ,it is true that science has hitherto  
confined itself mainly to the           
investigation of concrete phenomena2 but
 the same process is sure to be applied 
to metaphysics1 to sociology1 to        
psychology2 and the day will assuredly  
come when the human race will analyse   
the laws which govern progress1 which   
regulate the exact development of       
religion and morality4  ,the demolition 
of credulity is1 as ,i have said1 a     
wholly desirable and beneficial thing4  
,most intelligent people have found some
 happiness in learning that the dealings
 of ,god--that is1 the creative and     
originative power behind the            
universe--are at all events not         
whimsical1 however unintelligible they  
may be4 ,no one at all events is now    
required to reconcile with his religious
 faith a detailed belief in the ,mosaic 
cosmogony1 or to accept the fact that a 
,hebrew prophet was enabled to summon   

bears from a wood to tear to pieces some
 unhappy boys who found food for mirth  
in his personal appearance4 ,that is a  
pure gain4 ,but side by side with this  
entirely wholesome process1 there are a 
good many people who have thrown        
overboard1 together with their          
credulity1 a quality of a far higher and
 nobler kind1 which may be called faith4
 ,men who have seen many mysteries      
explained1 and many dark riddles solved 
in nature1 have fallen into what is     
called materialism1 from the mistaken   
idea that the explanation of material   
phenomena will hold good for the        
discernment of abstract phenomena4 ,yet 
any one who approaches the results of   
scientific investigation in a           
philosophical and a poetical spirit1    
sees clearly enough that nothing has    
been attempted but analysis1 and that   
the mystery which surrounds us is only  
thrust a little further off1 while the  
darkness is as impenetrable and profound
 as ever4 ,all that we have learnt is   

how natural law works2 we have not come 
near to learning why it works as it     
does4 ,all we have really acquired is a 
knowledge that the audacious and        
unsatisfactory theories1 such1 for      
instance1 as the old-fashioned scheme of
 redemption1 by which men have attempted
 with a pathetic hopefulness to justify 
the ways of ,god to man1 are1 and are   
bound to be1 despairingly incomplete4   
,the danger of the scientific spirit is 
not that it is too agnostic1 but that it
 is not agnostic enough3 it professes to
 account for everything when it only has
 a very few of the data in its grasp4   
,the materialistic philosophy tends to  
be a tyranny which menaces liberty of   
thought4 ,every one has a right to      
deduce what theory he can from his own  
experience4 ,the one thing that we have 
no sort of right to do is to enforce    
that theory upon people whose experience
 does not confirm it4 ,we may invite    
them to act upon our assumptions1 but we
 must not blame them if they end by     

considering them to be baseless4 ,i was 
talking the other day to an ardent      
,roman ,catholic1 who described by a    
parable the light in which he viewed the
 authority of the ,church4 ,he said that
 it was as if he were half-way up a     
hill1 prevented from looking over into a
 hidden valley by the slope of the      
ground4 ,on the hill-top1 he said1 might
 be supposed to stand people in whose   
good faith and accuracy of vision he had
 complete confidence4 ,if they described
 to him what they saw in the valley     
beyond1 he would not dream of           
mistrusting them4 ,but the analogy      
breaks down at every point1 because the 
essence of it is that every one who     
reached the hill-top would inevitably   
see the same scene4 ,yet in the case of 
religion1 the hill-top is crowded by    
people1 whose good faith is equally     
incontestable1 but whose descriptions of
 what lies beyond are at hopeless       
variance4 ,moreover all alike confess   
that the impressions they derive are    

outside the possibility of scientific or
 intellectual tests1 and that it is all 
a matter of inference depending upon a  
subjective consent in the mind of the   
discerner to accept what is incapable of
 proof4 ,the strength of the scientific 
position is that the scientific observer
 is in the presence of phenomena        
confirmed by innumerable investigations1
 and that1 up to a certain point1 the   
operation of a law has been ascertained1
 which no reasonable man has any excuse 
for doubting4 ,whenever that law        
conflicts with religious assumptions1   
which in any case cannot be proved to be
 more than subjective assumptions1 the  
unverifiable theory must go down before 
the verifiable4 ,religion may assume1   
for instance1 that life is an educative 
process2 but that theory cannot be      
considered proved in the presence of the
 fact that many human beings close their
 eyes upon the world before they are    
capable of exercising any moral or      
intellectual choice whatever4  ,it may  

prove1 upon investigation1 that all     
religious theories and all creeds are   
nothing more than the desperate and     
pathetic attempts of humanity1 conscious
 of an instinctive horror of suffering1 
and of an inalienable sense of their    
right to happiness1 to provide a        
solution for the appalling fact that    
many human beings seem created only to  
suffer and to be unhappy4 ,the mystery  
is a very dark one2 and philosophy is   
still not within reach of explaining how
 it is that a sense of justice should be
 implanted in man by the ,power that    
appears so often to violate that        
conception of justice4  ,the fact is    
that the progress of science has created
 an immense demand for the quality of   
faith and hopefulness1 by revealing so  
much that is pessimistic in the         
operation of natural law4 ,if we are to 
live with any measure of contentment or 
tranquillity1 we must acquire a         
confidence that ,god has not1 as science
 tends to indicate1 made all men for    

nought4 ,we must1 if we can1 acquire    
some sort of hope that it is not in mere
 wantonness and indifference that ,he   
confronts us with the necessity for     
bearing the things that ,he has made us 
most to dread4 ,it may be easy enough   
for robust1 vigorous1 contented persons 
to believe that ,god means us well2 but 
the only solution that is worth anything
 is a solution that shall give us       
courage1 patience1 and even joy1 at     
times when everything about us seems to 
speak of cruelty and terror and         
injustice4 ,one of the things that has  
ministered comfort in large measure to  
souls so afflicted is the power of      
tracing a certain beauty and            
graciousness in the phenomena that      
surround us4 ,who is there who in       
moments of bewildered sorrow has not    
read a hint of some vast lovingness1    
moving dimly in the background of       
things1 in the touch of familiar hands  
or in the glances of dear eyes8 ,surely1
 they have said to themselves1 if love  

is the deepest1 strongest1 and most     
lasting force in the world1 the same    
quality must be hidden deepest in the   
,heart of ,god4 ,this is the unique     
strength of the ,christian revelation1  
the thought of the ,fatherhood of ,god1 
and ,his tender care for all that he has
 made4 ,again1 who is there who in      
depression and anxiety has not had his  
load somewhat lightened by the sight of 
the fresh green of spring foliage       
against a blue sky1 by the colour and   
scent of flowers1 by the sweet melody of
 musical chords8 ,the aching spirit has 
said1 ,they are there--beauty1 and      
peace1 and joy--if ,i could but find the
 way to them4 ,who has not had his fear 
of death alleviated by the happy end of 
some beloved life1 when the dear one has
 made1 as it were1 solemn haste to be   
gone1 falling gently into slumber8 ,who 
is there1 who1 speeding homewards in the
 sunset1 has seen the dusky orange veil 
of flying light drawn softly westward   
over misty fields1 where the old house  

stands up darkling among the glimmering 
pastures1 and has not felt the presence 
of some sweet secret waiting for him    
beyond the gates of life and death8 ,all
 these things are symbols1 because the  
emotions they arouse are veritably      
there1 as indisputable a phenomenon as  
any fact which science has analysed4    
,the miserable mistake that many        
intellectual people make is to disregard
 what they would call vague emotions in 
the presence of scientific truth4 ,yet  
such emotions have a far more intimate  
concern for us than the dim sociology of
 bees1 or the concentric forces of the  
stars4 ,our emotions are far more true  
and vivid experiences for us than       
indisputable laws of nature which never 
cut the line of our life at all4 ,we may
 wish1 perhaps1 that the laws of such   
emotions were analysed and systematised 
too1 for it is a very timid and         
faltering spirit that thinks that       
definiteness is the same as profanation4
 ,we may depend upon it that the deeper 

we can probe into such secrets1 the     
richer will our conceptions of life and 
,god become4  ,the mistake that is so   
often made by religious organisations1  
which depend so largely upon symbolism1 
is the terrible limiting of this        
symbolism to traditional ceremonies and 
venerable ritual4 ,it has been said that
 religion is the only form of poetry    
accessible to the poor2 and it is true  
in the sense that anything which hallows
 and quickens the most normal and simple
 experiences of lives divorced from     
intellectual and artistic influences is 
a very real and true kind of symbolism4 
,it may be well to give people such     
symbolism as they can understand1 and   
the best symbols of all are those that  
deal with the commonest emotions4 ,but  
it is a lean wisdom that emphasises a   
limited range of emotions at the expense
 of a larger range2 and the spirit which
 limits the sacred influences of        
religion to particular buildings and    
particular rites is very far removed    

from the spirit of ,him who said that   
neither at ,gerizim nor in ,jerusalem   
was the ,father to be worshipped1 but in
 spirit and in truth4 ,at the same time 
the natural impatience of one who       
discerns a symbolism all about him1 in  
tree and flower1 in sunshine and rain1  
and who hates to see the range          
restricted1 is a feeling that a wise and
 tolerant man ought to resist4 ,it is   
ill to break the pitcher because the    
well is at hand6 ,one does not make a   
narrow soul broader by breaking down its
 boundaries1 but by revealing the beauty
 of the further horizon4 ,even the false
 feeling of compassion must be resisted4
 ,a child is more encouraged by         
listening patiently to its tale of tiny 
exploits1 than by casting ridicule upon 
them4  ,but on the other hand it is a   
wholly false timidity for one who has   
been brought up to love and reverence   
the narrower range of symbols1 to choke 
and stifle the desires that stir in his 
heart for the wider range1 out of       

deference to authority and custom4 ,one 
must not discard a cramping garment     
until one has a freer one to take its   
place2 but to continue in the confining 
robe with the larger lying ready to     
one's hand1 from a sense of false pathos
 and unreasonable loyalty1 is a piece of
 foolishness4  ,there are1 ,i believe1  
hundreds of men and women now alive1 who
 have outgrown their traditional faith1 
through no fault of their own2 but who  
out of terror at the vague menaces of   
interested and ,pharisaical persons do  
not dare to break away4 ,one must of    
course weigh carefully whether one      
values comfort or liberty most4 ,but    
what ,i would say is that it is of the  
essence of a faith to be elastic1 to be 
capable of development1 to be able to   
embrace the forward movement of thought4
 ,now so far am ,i from wishing to      
suggest that we have outgrown           
,christianity1 that ,i would assert that
 we have not yet mastered its simplest  
principles4 ,i believe with all my soul 

that it is still able to embrace the    
most daring scientific speculations1 for
 the simple reason that it is hardly    
concerned with them at all4 ,where      
religious faith conflicts with science  
is in the tenacity with which it holds  
to the literal truth of the miraculous  
occurrences related in the ,scriptures4 
,some of these present no difficulty1   
some appear to be scientifically        
incredible4 ,yet these latter seem to me
 to be but the perfectly natural        
contemporary setting of the faith1 and  
not to be of the essence of             
,christianity at all4 ,miracles1 whether
 they are true or not1 are at all events
 unverifiable1 and no creed that claims 
to depend upon the acceptance of        
unverifiable events can have any        
vitality4 ,but the personality1 the     
force1 the perception of ,christ        
,himself emerges with absolute          
distinctness from the surrounding       
details4 ,we may not be in a position to
 check exactly what ,he said and what   

,he did not say1 but just as no         
reasonable man can hold that ,he was    
merely an imaginative conception        
invented by people who obviously did not
 understand ,him1 so the general drift  
of ,his teaching is absolutely clear and
 convincing4  ,what ,i would have those 
do who can profess themselves sincerely 
convinced ,christians1 in spite of the  
uncertainty of many of the recorded     
details1 is to adopt a simple           
compromise2 to claim their part in the  
inheritance of ,christ1 and the symbols 
of ,his mysteries1 but not to feel      
themselves bound by any ecclesiastical  
tradition4 ,no one can forbid1 by       
peevish regulations1 direct access to   
the spirit of ,christ and to the love of
 ,god4 ,christ's teaching was a purely  
individualistic teaching1 based upon    
conduct and emotion1 and half the       
difficulties of the position lie in ,his
 sanction and guidance having been      
claimed for what is only a human attempt
 to organise a society with a due       

deference for the secular spirit1 its   
aims and ambitions4 ,the sincere        
,christian should1 ,i believe1          
gratefully receive the simple and sweet 
symbols of unity and forgiveness2 but he
 should make his own a far higher and   
wider range of symbols1 the symbols of  
natural beauty and art and              
literature--all the passionate dreams of
 peace and emotion that have thrilled   
the yearning hearts of men4 ,wherever   
those emotions have led men along       
selfish1 cruel1 sensual paths1 they must
 be distrusted1 just as we must distrust
 the religious emotions which have      
sanctioned such divergences from the    
spirit of ,christ4 ,we must believe that
 the essence of religion is to make us  
alive to the love of ,god1 in whatever  
writing of light and air1 of form and   
fragrance it is revealed2 and we must   
further believe that religion is meant  
to guide and quicken the tender1        
compassionate1 brotherly emotions1 by   
which we lean to each other in this     

world where so much is dark4 ,but to    
denounce the narrower forms of religion1
 or to abstain from them1 is utterly    
alien to the spirit of ,christ4 ,he     
obeyed and reverenced the law1 though   
,he knew that the expanding spirit of   
,his own teaching would break it in     
pieces4 ,of course1 since liberty is the
 spirit of the ,gospel1 a liberty       
conditioned by the sense of equality1   
there may be occasions when a man is    
bound to resist what appears to him to  
be a moral or an intellectual tyranny4  
,but short of that1 the only thing of   
which one must beware is a conscious    
insincerity2 and the limits of that a   
man must determine for himself4 ,there  
are occasions when consideration for the
 feelings of others seems to conflict   
with one's own sense of sincerity2 but  
,i think that one is seldom wrong in    
preferring consideration for others to  
the personal indulgence of one's own    
apparent sincerity4  ,peace and         
gentleness always prevail in the end    

over vehemence and violence1 and a      
peaceful revolution brings about happier
 results for a country1 as we have good 
reason to know1 than a revolution of    
force4 ,even now the narrower religious 
systems prevail more in virtue of the   
gentleness and goodwill and persuasion  
of their ministers than through the     
spiritual terrors that they wield--the  
thunders are divorced from the          
lightning4  ,thus may the victories of  
faith be won1 not by noise and strife1  
but by the silent motion of a resistless
 tide4 ,even now it creeps softly over  
the sand and brims the stagnant pools   
with the freshening and invigorating    
brine4  ,but in the worship of the      
symbol there is one deep danger2 and    
that is that if one rests upon it1 if   
one makes one's home in the palace of   
beauty or philosophy or religion1 one   
has failed in the quest4 ,it is the     
pursuit not of the unattained but of the
 unattainable to which we are vowed4    
,nothing but the unattainable can draw  

us onward4 ,it is rest that is          
forbidden4 ,we are pilgrims yet2 and if1
 intoxicated and bemused by beauty or   
emotion or religion1 we make our        
dwelling there1 it is as though we slept
 in the enchanted ground4 ,enough is    
given us1 and no more1 to keep us moving
 forwards4 ,to be satisfied is to       
slumber4 ,the melancholy that follows   
hard in the footsteps of art1 the       
sadness haunting the bravest music1 the 
aching1 troubled longing that creeps    
into the mind at the sight of the       
fairest scene1 is but the warning       
presence of the guide that travels with 
us and fears that we may linger4 ,who   
has not seen across a rising ground the 
gables of the old house1 the church     
tower1 dark among the bare boughs of the
 rookery in a smiling sunset1 and half  
lost himself at the thought of the      
impossibly beautiful life that might be 
lived there8 ,to-day1 just when the     
western sun began to tinge the floating 
clouds with purple and gold1 ,i saw by  

the roadside an old labourer1 fork on   
back1 plodding heavily across a         
ploughland all stippled with lines of   
growing wheat4 ,hard by a windmill      
whirled its clattering arms4 ,how ,i    
longed for something that would render  
permanent the scene1 sight1 and sound   
alike4 ,it told me somehow that the end 
was not yet4 ,what did it stand for8 ,i 
hardly know2 for life1 slow and haggard 
with toil1 hard-won sustenance1 all     
overhung with the crimson glories of    
waning light1 the wet road itself       
catching the golden hues of heaven4 ,a  
little later1 passing by the great      
pauper asylum that stands up so naked   
among the bare fields1 ,i looked over a 
hedge1 and there1 behind the            
engine-house with its heaps of scoriae  
and rubbish1 lay a little trim ugly     
burial-ground1 with a dismal mortuary1  
upon which some pathetic and tawdry     
taste had been spent4 ,there in rows lay
 the mouldering bones of the failures of
 life and old sin2 not even a headstone 

over each with a word of hope1 nothing  
but a number on a tin tablet4 ,nothing  
more incredibly sordid could be devised4
 ,one thought of the sad rite1 the      
melancholy priest1 the handful of       
relatives glad at heart that the poor   
broken life was over and the wretched   
associations at an end4 ,yet even that  
sight too warned one not to linger1 and 
that the end was not yet4 ,presently1 in
 the gathering twilight1 ,i was making  
my way through the streets of the city4 
,the dusk had obliterated all that was  
mean and dreary4 ,nothing but the       
irregular housefronts stood up against  
the still sky1 the lighted windows      
giving the sense of home and ease4 ,a   
quiet bell rang for vespers in a church 
tower1 and as ,i passed ,i heard an     
organ roll within4 ,it all seemed a     
sweetly framed message to the soul1 a   
symbol of joy and peace4  ,but then ,i  
reflected that the danger was of        
selecting1 out of the symbols that      
crowded around one on every side1 merely

 those that ministered to one's own     
satisfaction and contentment4 ,the sad  
horror of that other place1 the little  
bare place of desolate graves--that must
 be a symbol as well1 that must stand as
 a witness of some part of the awful    
mind of ,god1 of the strange flaw or    
rent that seems to run through ,his     
world4 ,it may be more comfortable1 more
 luxurious to detach the symbol that    
testifies to the satisfaction of our    
needs2 but not thus do we draw near to  
truth and ,god4 ,and then ,i thought    
that perhaps it was best1 when we are   
secure and careless and joyful1 to look 
at times steadily into the dark abyss of
 the world1 not in the spirit of        
morbidity1 not with the sense of the    
macabre--the skeleton behind the rich   
robe1 death at the monarch's shoulder2  
but to remind ourselves1 faithfully and 
wisely1 that for us too the shadow      
waits2 and then that in our moments of  
dreariness and heaviness we should do   
well to seek for symbols of our peace1  

not thrusting them peevishly aside as   
only serving to remind us of what we    
have lost and forfeited1 but dwelling on
 them patiently and hopefully1 with a   
tender onlooking to the gracious horizon
 with all its golden lights and purple  
shadows4 ,and thus not in a mercantile  
mood trafficking for our delight in the 
mysteries of life--for not by prudence  
can we draw near to ,god--but in a      
childlike mood1 valuing the kindly word1
 the smile that lights up the narrow    
room and enriches the austere fare1 and 
paying no heed at all to the jealousies 
and the covetous ingathering that turns 
the temple of the ,father into a house  
of merchandise4  ,for here1 deepest of  
all1 lies the worth of the symbol2 that 
this life of ours is not a little       
fretful space of days1 rounded with a   
sleep1 but an integral part of an       
inconceivably vast design1 flooding     
through and behind the star-strewn      
heavens2 that there is no sequence of   
events as we conceive1 that acts are not

 done or words said1 once and for all1  
and then laid away in the darkness2 but 
that it is all an ever-living thing1 in 
which the things that we call old are as
 much present in the mind of ,god as the
 things that shall be millions of       
centuries hence4 ,there is no           
uncertainty with ,him1 no doubt as to   
what shall be hereafter2 and if we once 
come near to that truth1 we can draw    
from it1 in our darkest hours1 a        
refreshment that cannot fail2 for the   
saddest thought in the mind of man is   
the thought that these things could have
 been1 could be other than they are2 and
 if we once can bring home to ourselves 
the knowledge that ,god is unchanged and
 unchangeable1 our faithless doubts1 our
 melancholy regrets melt in the light of
 truth1 as the hoar-frost fades upon the
 grass in the rising sun1 when every    
globed dewdrop flashes like a jewel in  
the radiance of the fiery dawn4         
,,xvi4 ,,optimism   ,we ,anglo-,saxons  
are mostly optimists at heart2 we love  

to have things comfortable1 and to      
pretend that they are comfortable when  
they obviously are not4 ,the brisk      
,anglo-,saxon1 if he cannot reach the   
grapes1 does not say that the grapes are
 sour1 but protests that he does not    
really care about grapes4 ,a story is   
told of a great ,english proconsul who  
desired to get a loan from the ,treasury
 of the ,government over which he       
practically1 though not nominally1      
presided4 ,he went to the ,financial    
,secretary and said3 ,look here1 ,t----1
 you must get me a loan for a business  
,i have very much at heart4 ,the        
secretary whistled1 and then said3      
,well1 ,i will try2 but it is not the   
least use4 ,oh1 you will manage it      
somehow1 said the proconsul1 and ,i may 
tell you confidentially it is absolutely
 essential4 ,the following morning the  
secretary came to report3 ,i told you it
 was no use1 sir1 and it wasn't2 the    
,board would not hear of it4 ,damnation6
 said the proconsul1 and went on        

writing4 ,a week after he met the       
secretary1 who felt a little shy4 ,by   
the way1 ,t----1 said the great man1 ,i 
have been thinking over that matter of  
the loan1 and it was a mercy you were   
not successful2 it would have been a    
hopeless precedent1 and we are much     
better without it4  ,that is the true   
,anglo-,saxon spirit of optimism4 ,the  
most truly ,british person ,i know is a 
man who will move heaven and earth to   
secure a post or to compass an end2 but 
when he fails1 as he does not often     
fail1 he says genially that he is more  
thankful than he can say2 it would have 
been ruin to him if he had been         
successful4 ,the same quality runs      
through our philosophy and our religion4
 ,who but an ,anglo-,saxon would have   
invented the robust theory1 to account  
for the fact that prayers are often not 
granted1 that prayers are always        
directly answered whether you attain    
your desire or not8 ,the ,greeks prayed 
that the gods would grant them what was 

good even if they did not desire it1 and
 withhold what was evil even if they did
 desire it4 ,the shrewd ,roman said3    
,the gods will give us what is most     
appropriate2 man is dearer to them than 
to himself4 ,but the faithful           
,anglo-,saxon maintains that his prayer 
is none the less answered even if it be 
denied1 and that it is made up to him in
 some roundabout way4 ,it is            
inconceivable to the ,anglo-,saxon that 
there may be a strain of sadness and    
melancholy in the very mind of ,god2 he 
cannot understand that there can be any 
beauty in sorrow4 ,to the ,celt1 sorrow 
itself is dear and beautiful1 and the   
mournful wailing of winds1 the tears of 
the lowering cloud1 afford him sweet and
 even luxurious sensations4 ,the memory 
of grief is one of the good things that 
remains to him1 as life draws to its    
close2 for love is to him the sister of 
grief rather than the mother of joy4    
,but this is to the ,anglo-,saxon mind a
 morbid thing4 ,the hours in which      

sorrow has overclouded him are wasted1  
desolated hours1 to be forgotten and    
obliterated as soon as possible4 ,there 
is nothing sacred about them2 they are  
sad and stony tracts over which he has  
made haste to cross1 and the only use of
 them is to heighten the sense of       
security and joy4 ,and thus the sort of 
sayings that satisfy and sustain the    
,anglo-,saxon mind are such             
irrepressible outbursts of poets as     
,god's in ,his heaven2 all's right with 
the world--the latter part of which is  
flagrantly contradicted by experience2  
and1 as for the former part1 if it be   
true1 it lends no comfort to the man who
 tries to find his ,god in the world4   
,again1 when ,browning says that the    
world means intensely and means good1 he
 is but pouring oil upon the darting    
flame of optimism1 because there are    
many people to whom the world has no    
particular meaning1 and few who can     
re-echo the statement that it means     
good4 ,that some rich surprise1 in spite

 of palpable and hourly experience to   
the contrary1 may possibly await us1 is 
the most that some of us dare to hope4  
,my own experience1 the older ,i grow1  
and the more ,i see of life1 is that ,i 
feel it to be a much more bewildering   
and even terrifying thing than ,i used  
to think it4 ,to use a metaphor1 instead
 of its being a patient educational     
process1 which ,i would give all that ,i
 possessed to be able sincerely to      
believe it to be1 it seems to me        
arranged far more upon the principle of 
a game of cricket--which ,i have always 
held to be1 in theory1 the most unjust  
and fortuitous of games4 ,you step to   
the wicket1 you have only a single      
chance2 the boldest and most patient man
 may make one mistake at the outset1 and
 his innings is over2 the timid         
tremulous player may by undeserved good 
luck contrive to keep his wicket up1    
till his heart has got into the right   
place1 and his eye has wriggled         
straight1 and he is set4  ,that is the  

first horrible fact about life--that    
carelessness is often not penalised at  
all1 whereas sometimes it is instantly  
and fiercely penalised4 ,one boy at     
school may break every law1 human and   
divine1 and go out into the world       
unblemished4 ,another timid and         
good-natured child may make a false     
step1 and be sent off into life with a  
permanent cloud over him4 ,school life  
often emphasises the injustice of the   
world instead of trying to counteract   
it4 ,schoolmasters tend to hustle the   
weak rather than to curb the strong4    
,and then we pass into the larger world1
 and what do we see8 ,a sad confusion   
everywhere4 ,we see an innocent and     
beautiful girl struck down by a long and
 painful disease--a punishment perhaps  
appropriate to some robust and hoary    
sinner1 who has gathered forbidden fruit
 with both his hands1 and the juices of 
which go down to the skirts of his      
clothing2 or a brave and virtuous man1  
with a wife and children dependent on   

him1 needed if ever man was1 kind1      
beneficent1 strong1 is struck down out  
of life in a moment4 ,on the other hand1
 we see a mean and cautious sinner1 with
 no touch of unselfishness and          
affection1 guarded and secured in       
material contentment4 ,let any one run  
over in his mind the memories of his own
 circle1 fill up the gaps1 and ask      
himself bravely and frankly whether he  
can trace a wise and honest and         
beneficent design all through4 ,he may  
try to console himself by saying that   
the disasters of good people1 after all1
 are the exceptions1 and that1 as a     
rule1 courage and purity of heart are   
rewarded1 while cowardice and filthiness
 are punished4 ,but what room is there  
for exceptions in a world governed by   
,god ,whom we must believe to be        
all-powerful1 all-just1 and all-loving8 
,it is the wilful sin of man1 says the  
moralist1 that has brought these hard   
things upon him4 ,but that is no answer1
 for the dark shadow lies as sombrely   

over irresponsible nature1 which groans 
over undeserved suffering4 ,and then1 to
 make the shadow darker still1 we have  
all the same love of life1 the same     
inalienable sense of our right to       
happiness1 the same inheritance of love4
 ,if we could but see that in the end   
pain and loss would be blest1 there is  
nothing that we would not gladly bear4  
,yet that sight1 too1 is denied us4     
,and yet we live and laugh and hope1 and
 forget4 ,we take our fill of tranquil  
days and pleasant companies1 though for 
some of us the thought that it is all   
passing1 passing1 even while we lean    
towards it smiling1 touches the very    
sunlight with pain4 ,how morbid1 how    
self-tormenting6 says the prudent       
friend1 if such thoughts escape us4 ,why
 not enjoy the delight and bear the     
pain8 ,that is life2 we cannot alter it4
 ,but not on such terms1 can ,i1 for    
one1 live4 ,to know1 to have some       
assurance--that is the one and only     
thing that matters at all4 ,for if ,i   

once believed that ,god were careless1  
or indifferent1 or impotent1 ,i would   
fly from life as an accursed thing2     
whereas ,i would give all the peace1 and
 joy1 and contentment1 that may yet     
await me upon earth1 and take up        
cheerfully the heaviest burden that     
could be devised of darkness and pain1  
if ,i could be sure of an after-life    
that will give us all the unclouded     
serenity1 and strength1 and love1 for   
which we crave every moment4 ,sometimes1
 in a time of strength and calm weather1
 when the sun is bright and the friend  
,i love is with me1 and the scent of the
 hyacinths blows from the wood1 ,i have 
no doubt of the love and tenderness of  
,god2 and1 again1 when ,i wake in the   
dreadful dawn to the sharp horror of the
 thought that one ,i love is suffering  
and crying out in pain and drifting on  
to death1 the beauty of the world1 the  
familiar scene1 is full of a hateful and
 atrocious insolence of grace and       
sweetness2 and then ,i feel that we are 

all perhaps in the grip of some         
relentless and inscrutable law that has 
no care for our happiness or peace at   
all1 and works blindly and furiously in 
the darkness1 bespattering some with woe
 and others with joy4 ,those are the    
blackest and most horrible moments of   
life2 and yet even so we live on4  ,as  
,i write at my ease ,i see the velvety  
grass green on the rich pasture2 the    
tall spires of the chestnut perch1 and  
poise1 and sway in the sun2 a thrush    
sings hidden in the orchard2 it is all  
caressingly1 enchantingly beautiful1 and
 ,i am well content to be alive4        
,looking backwards1 ,i discern that ,i  
have had my share1 and more than my     
share1 of good things4 ,but they are    
over2 they are mine no longer4 ,and even
 as ,i think the thought1 the old church
 clock across the fields tells out      
another hour that is fallen softly into 
the glimmering past4 ,if ,i could       
discern any strength or patience won    
from hours of pain and sorrow it would  

be easier2 but the memory of pain makes 
me dread pain the more1 the thought of  
past sorrow makes future sorrow still   
more black4 ,i would rather have        
strength than tranquillity1 when all is 
done2 but life has rather taught me my  
weakness1 and struck the garland out of 
my reluctant hand4  ,to-day ,i have been
 riding quietly among fields deep with  
buttercups and fringed by clear1 slow   
streams4 ,the trees are in full spring  
leaf1 only the oaks and walnuts a little
 belated1 unfurling their rusty-red     
fronds4 ,a waft of rich scent comes from
 a hawthorn hedge where a hidden cuckoo 
flutes1 or just where the lane turns by 
the old water-mill1 which throbs and    
grumbles with the moving gear1 a great  
lilac-bush leans out of a garden and    
fills the air with perfume4 ,yet1 as ,i 
go1 ,i am filled with a heavy anxiety1  
which plays with my sick heart as a cat 
plays with a mouse1 letting it run a    
little in the sun1 and then pouncing    
upon it in terror and dismay4 ,the      

beautiful sounds and sights round       
me--the sight of the quiet1 leisurely   
people ,i meet--ought1 one would think1 
to soothe and calm the unquiet heart4   
,but they do not2 they rather seem to   
mock and flout me with a savage         
insolence of careless welfare4 ,my      
thoughts go back1 ,i do not know why1 to
 an old house where ,i spent many happy 
days1 now in the hands of strangers4 ,i 
remember sitting1 one of a silent and   
happy party1 on a terrace in the dusk of
 a warm summer night1 and how one of    
those present called to the owls that   
were hooting in the hanging wood above  
the house1 so that they drew near in    
answer to the call1 flying noiselessly1 
and suddenly uttering their plaintive   
notes from the heart of the great       
chestnut on the lawn4 ,below ,i can see 
the dewy glimmering fields1 the lights  
of the little port1 the pale sea-line4  
,it seems now all impossibly beautiful  
and tranquil2 but ,i know that even then
 it was often marred by disappointments1

 and troubles1 and fears4 ,little       
anxieties that have all melted softly   
into the past1 that were easily enough  
borne1 when it came to the point1 yet1  
looming up as they did in the future1   
filled the days with the shadow of fear4
 ,that is the phantom that one ought to 
lay1 if it can be laid4 ,and is there   
hidden somewhere any well of healing1   
any pure source of strength and         
refreshment1 from which we can drink and
 be calm and brave8 ,that is a question 
which each has to answer tor himself4   
,for myself1 ,i can only say that       
strength is sometimes given1 sometimes  
denied4 ,how foolish to be anxious6     
,yes1 but how inevitable6 ,if the beauty
 and the joy of the world gave one      
assurance in dark hours that all was    
certainly well1 the pilgrimage would be 
an easy one4 ,but can one be optimistic 
by resolving to be8 ,one can of course  
control oneself1 one can let no murmur  
of pain escape one1 one can even        
enunciate deep and courageous maxims1   

because one would not trouble the peace 
of others1 waiting patiently till the   
golden mood returns4 ,but what if the   
desolate conviction forces itself upon  
the mind that sorrow is the truer thing8
 ,what if one tests one's own           
experience1 and sees that1 under the    
pressure of sorrow1 one after another of
 the world's lights are extinguished1   
health1 and peace1 and beauty1 and      
delight1 till one asks oneself whether  
sorrow is not perhaps the truest and    
most actual thing of all8 ,that is the  
ghastliest of moments1 when everything  
drops from us but fear and horror1 when 
we think that we have indeed found truth
 at last1 and that the answer to        
,pilate's bitter question is that pain  
is the nearest thing to truth because it
 is the strongest4 ,if ,i felt that1    
says the reluctant heart1 ,i should     
abandon myself to despair4 ,no1 says    
sterner reason1 you would bear it       
because you cannot escape from it4 ,into
 whatever depths of despair you fell1   

you would still be upheld by the law    
that bids you be4  ,where1 then1 is the 
hope to be found8 ,it is here4 ,one is  
tempted to think of ,god through human  
analogies and symbols4 ,we think of ,him
 as of a potter moulding the clay to his
 will2 as of a statesman that sways a   
state2 as of an artist that traces a    
fair design4 ,but all similitudes and   
comparisons break down1 for no man can  
create anything2 he can but modify      
matter to his ends1 and when he fails1  
it is because of some natural law that  
cuts across his design and thwarts him  
relentlessly4 ,but the essence of ,god's
 omnipotence is that both law and matter
 are ,his and originate from ,him2 so   
that1 if a single fibre of what we know 
to be evil can be found in the world1   
either ,god is responsible for that1 or 
,he is dealing with something ,he did   
not originate and cannot overcome4      
,nothing can extricate us from this     
dilemma1 except the belief that what we 
think evil is not really evil at all1   

but hidden good2 and thus we have firm  
ground under our feet at last1 and can  
begin to climb out of the abyss4 ,and   
then we feel in our own hearts how      
indomitable is our sense of our right to
 happiness1 how unconquerable our hope2 
how swiftly we forget unhappiness2 how  
firmly we remember joy2 and then we see 
that the one absolutely permanent and   
vital power in the world is the power of
 love1 which wins victories over every  
evil we can name2 and if it is so plain 
that love is the one essential and      
triumphant force in the world1 it must  
be the very heartbeat of ,god2 till we  
feel that when soon or late the day     
comes for us1 when our swimming eyes    
discern ever more faintly the awestruck 
pitying faces round us1 and the senses  
give up their powers one by one1 and the
 tides of death creep on us1 and the    
daylight dies--that even so we shall    
find that love awaiting us in the region
 to which the noblest and bravest and   
purest1 as well as the vilest and most  

timid and most soiled have gone4  ,this1
 then1 is the only optimism that is     
worth the name2 not the feeble optimism 
that brushes away the darker side of    
life impatiently and fretfully1 but the 
optimism that dares to look boldly into 
the fiercest miseries of the human      
spirit1 and to come back1 as ,perseus   
came1 pale and smoke-stained1 from the  
dim underworld1 and say that there is   
yet hope brightening on the verge of the
 gloom4  ,what one desires1 then1 is an 
optimism which arises from taking a wide
 view of things as they are1 and taking 
the worst side into account1 not an     
optimism which is only made possible by 
wearing blinkers4 ,i was reading a day  
or two ago a suggestive and brilliant   
book by one of our most prolific        
critics1 ,mr4 ,chesterton1 on the       
subject of ,dickens4 ,mr4 ,chesterton is
 of opinion that our modern tendency to 
pessimism results from our inveterate   
realism4 ,contrasting modern fictions   
with the old heroic stories1 he says    

that we take some indecisive clerk for  
the subject of a story1 and call the    
weak-kneed cad the hero4 ,he seems to   
think that we ought to take a larger and
 more robust view of human              
possibilities1 and keep our eyes        
steadily fixed upon more vigorous and   
generous characters4 ,but the result of 
this is the ugly and unphilosophical    
kind of optimism after all1 that calls  
upon ,god to despise the work of ,his   
own hands1 that turns upon all that is  
feeble and unsightly and vulgar with    
anger and disdain1 like the man in the  
parable who took advantage of his being 
forgiven a great debt to exact a tiny   
one4 ,the tragedy is that the           
knock-kneed clerk is all in all to      
himself4 ,in clear-sighted and          
imaginative moments1 he may realise in a
 sudden flash of horrible insight that  
he is so far from being what he would   
desire to be1 so unheroic1 so loosely   
strung1 so deplorable--and yet that he  
can do so little to bridge the gap4 ,the

 only method of manufacturing heroes is 
to encourage people to believe in       
themselves and their possibilities1 to  
assure them that they are indeed dear to
 ,god2 not to reveal relentlessly to    
them their essential lowness and        
shabbiness4 ,it is not the clerk's fault
 that his mind is sordid and weak1 and  
that his knees knock together2 and no   
optimism is worth the name that has not 
a glorious message for the vilest4 ,or1 
again1 it is possible to arrive at a    
working optimism by taking a very dismal
 view of everything4 ,there is a story  
of an old ,calvinist minister whose     
daughter lay dying1 far away1 of a      
painful disease1 who wrote her a letter 
of consolation1 closing with the words1 
,remember1 dear daughter1 that all short
 of ,hell is mercy4 ,of course if one   
can take so richly decisive a view of   
the ,creator's purpose for ,his         
creatures1 and look upon ,hell as the   
normal destination from which a few1 by 
the overpowering condescension of ,god1 

are saved and separated1 one might find 
matter of joy in discovering one soul in
 a thousand who was judged worthy of    
salvation4 ,but this again is a clouded 
view1 because it takes no account of the
 profound and universal preference for  
happiness in the human heart1 and erects
 the horrible ideal of a ,creator who   
deliberately condemns the vast mass of  
,his creatures to a fate which ,he has  
no less deliberately created them to    
abhor and dread4  ,our main temptation  
after all lies in the fact that we are  
so impatient of any delay or any        
uneasiness4 ,we are like the child who1 
when first confronted with suffering1   
cannot bear to believe in its existence1
 and who1 if it is prolonged1 cannot    
believe in the existence of anything    
else4 ,what we have rather to do is to  
face the problem strongly and           
courageously1 to take into account the  
worst and feeblest possibilities of our 
nature1 and yet not to overlook the fact
 that the worst and lowest specimen of  

humanity has a dim inkling of something 
higher and happier1 to which he would   
attain if he knew how4  ,i had a little 
object-lesson a few days ago in the     
subject4 ,it was a ,bank ,holiday1 and  
,i walked pensively about the outskirts 
of a big town4 ,the streets were crowded
 with people of all sorts and sizes4 ,i 
confess that a profound melancholy was  
induced in me by the spectacle of the   
young of both sexes4 ,they were enjoying
 themselves1 it is true1 with all their 
might2 and ,i could not help wondering  
why1 as a rule1 they should enjoy       
themselves so offensively4 ,the girls   
walked about1 tittering and ogling1 the 
young men were noisy1 selfish1          
ill-mannered1 enjoying nothing so much  
as the discomfiture of any passer-by4   
,they pushed each other into ditches1   
they tripped up a friend who passed on a
 bicycle1 and all roared in concert at  
the rueful way in which he surveyed a   
muddy coat and torn trousers4 ,there    
seemed to be not the slightest idea     

among them of contributing to each      
other's pleasure4 ,the point was to be  
amused at the expense of another1 and to
 be securely obstreperous4  ,but among  
these there were lovers walking1 faint  
and pale with mutual admiration2 a young
 couple led along a hideous over-dressed
 child1 and had no eyes for anything    
except its clumsy movements and fatuous 
questions4 ,or an elderly couple        
strolled along1 pleased and contented1  
with a married son and daughter4 ,the   
cure of the vile mirth of youth seemed  
after all to be love and the anxious    
care of other lives4  ,and thus indeed a
 gentle optimism did emerge1 after all1 
from the tangle4 ,i felt that it was    
strange that there should be so much to 
breed dissatisfaction4 ,i struck out of 
the town1 and soon was passing a mill in
 broad water-meadows1 overhung by great 
elms2 the grass was golden with         
buttercups1 the foliage was rich upon   
the trees4 ,the water bubbled pleasantly
 in the great pool1 and an old house    

thrust a pretty gable out over lilacs   
clubbed with purple bloom4 ,the beauty  
of the place was put to my lips1 like a 
cup of the waters of comfort4 ,the      
sadness was the drift of human life out 
of sweet places such as this1 into the  
town that overflowed the meadows with   
its avenues of mean houses1 where the   
railway station1 with its rows of       
stained trucks1 its cindery floor1 its  
smoking engines1 buzzed and roared with 
life4  ,but the pessimism of one who    
sees the simple life fading out1 the    
ancient quietude invaded1 the country   
caught in the feelers of the town1 is   
not a real pessimism at all1 or rather  
it is a pessimism which results from a  
deficiency of imagination1 and is only a
 matter of personal taste1 perhaps of   
personal belatedness4 ,twelve           
generations of my own family lived and  
died as ,yorkshire yeomen-farmers1 and  
my own preference is probably a matter  
of instinctive inheritance4 ,the point  
is not what a few philosophers happen to

 like1 but what humanity likes1 and what
 it is happiest in liking4 ,i should    
have but small confidence in the ,power 
that rules the world1 if ,i did not     
believe that the vast social development
 of ,europe1 its civilisation1 its      
network of communications1 its bustle1  
its tenser living1 its love of social   
excitement was not all part of a great  
design4 ,i do not believe that humanity 
is perversely astray1 hurrying to       
destruction4 ,i believe rather that it  
is working out the possibilities that   
lie within it2 and if human beings had  
been framed to live quiet pastoral      
lives1 they would be living them still4 
,the one question for the would-be      
optimist is whether humanity is growing 
nobler1 wiser1 more unselfish2 and of   
that ,i have no doubt whatever4 ,the    
sense of equality1 of the rights of the 
weak1 compassion1 brotherliness1        
benevolence1 are living ideas1 throbbing
 with life2 the growth of the power of  
democracy1 much as it may tend to       

inconvenience one personally1 is an     
entirely hopeful and desirable thing2   
and if a man is disposed to pessimism1  
he ought to ask himself seriously to    
what extent his pessimism is conditioned
 by his own individual prospect of      
happiness4 ,it is quite possible to     
conceive of a man without any hope of   
personal immortality1 or the continuance
 of individual identity1 whose future   
might be clouded1 say1 by his being the 
victim of a painful and incurable       
disease1 and who yet might be a         
thoroughgoing optimist with regard to   
the future of humanity4 ,nothing in the 
world could be so indicative of the rise
 in the moral and emotional temperature 
of the world as the fact that men are   
increasingly disposed to sacrifice their
 own ambitions and their own comfort for
 the sake of others1 and are willing to 
suffer1 if the happiness of the race may
 be increased2 and much of the pessimism
 that prevails is the pessimism of      
egotists and individualists1 who feel no

 interest in the rising tide1 because it
 does not promise to themselves any     
increase in personal satisfaction4 ,no  
man can possibly hold the continuance of
 personal identity to be an indisputable
 fact1 because there is no sort of      
direct evidence on the subject2 and     
indeed all the evidence that exists is  
rather against the belief than for it4  
,the belief is in reality based upon    
nothing but instinct and desire1 and the
 impossibility of conceiving of life as 
existing apart from one's own           
perception4 ,but even if a man cannot   
hold that it is in any sense a          
certainty1 he may cherish a hope that it
 is true1 and he may be generously and  
sincerely grateful for having been      
allowed to taste1 through the medium of 
personal consciousness1 the marvellous  
experience of the beauty and interest of
 life1 its emotions1 its relationships1 
its infinite yearnings1 even though the 
curtain may descend upon his own        
consciousness of it1 and he himself may 

become as though he had never been1 his 
vitality blended afresh in the vitality 
of the world1 just as the body of his   
life1 so near to him1 so seemingly his  
own1 will undoubtedly be fused and blent
 afresh in the sum of matter4 ,a man1   
even though racked with pain and        
tortured with anxiety1 may deliberately 
and resolutely throw himself into       
sympathy with the mighty will of ,god1  
and cherish this noble and awe-inspiring
 thought--the thought of the onward     
march of humanity2 righting wrongs1     
amending errors1 fighting patiently     
against pain and evil1 until perhaps1   
far-off and incredibly remote1 our      
successors and descendants1 linked      
indeed with us in body and soul alike1  
may enjoy that peace and tranquillity1  
that harmony of soul1 which we ourselves
 can only momentarily and transitorily  
obtain4     ,,xvii4 ,,joy   ,dr4 ,arnold
 somewhere says that the schoolmaster's 
experience of being continually in the  
presence of the hard mechanical high    

spirits of boyhood is an essentially    
depressing thing4 ,it seemed to him     
depressing1 just because that happiness 
was so purely incidental to youth and   
health1 and did not proceed from any    
sense of principle1 any reserve of      
emotion1 any self-restraint1 any        
activity of sympathy4 ,i confess that in
 my own experience as a schoolmaster the
 particular phenomenon was sometimes a  
depressing thing and sometimes a relief4
 ,it was depressing when one was        
overshadowed by a fretful anxiety or a  
real sorrow1 because no appeal to it    
seemed possible3 it had a heartless     
quality4 ,but again it was a relief when
 it distracted one from the pressure of 
a troubled thought1 as when1 in the     
,idylls of the ,king1 the sorrowful     
queen was comforted by the little maiden
 who pleased her with a babbling        
heedlessness1 which often lured her from
 herself4  ,one felt that one had no    
right to let the sense of anxiety       
overshadow the natural cheerfulness of  

boyhood1 and then one made the effort to
 detach oneself from one's              
preoccupations1 with the result that    
they presently weighed less heavily upon
 the heart4  ,the blessing would be if  
one could find in experience a quality  
of joy which should be independent of   
natural high spirits altogether1 a      
cheerful tranquillity of outlook1 which 
should become almost instinctive through
 practice1 a mood which one could at all
 events evoke in such a way as to serve 
as a shield and screen to one's own     
private troubles1 or which at least     
would prevent one from allowing the     
shadow of our discontent from falling   
over others4 ,but it must be to a       
certain extent temperamental4 ,just as  
high animal spirits in some people are  
irrepressible1 and bubble up even under 
the menace of irreparable calamity1 so  
gloom of spirit is a very contagious    
thing1 very difficult to dissimulate4   
,perhaps the best practical thing for a 
naturally melancholy person to try and  

do1 is to treat his own low spirits1 as 
,charles ,lamb did1 ironically and      
humorously2 and if he must spin         
conversation incessantly1 as ,dr4       
,johnson said1 out of his own bowels1 to
 make sure that it is the best thread   
possible1 and of a gossamer quality4    
,the temperamental fact upon which the  
possibility of such a philosophical     
cheerfulness is based is after all an   
ultimate hopefulness4 ,some people have 
a remarkable staying power1 a power of  
looking through and over present        
troubles1 and consoling themselves with 
pleasant visions of futurity4 ,this is  
commoner with women than with men1      
because women derive a greater happiness
 from the happiness of those about them 
than men do4 ,a woman as a rule would   
prefer that the people who surround her 
should be cheerful1 even if she were not
 cheerful herself2 whereas a man is     
often not ill-pleased that his moods    
should be felt by his circle1 and       
regards it as rather an insult that     

other people should be joyful when he is
 ill-at-ease4 ,some people1 too1 have a 
stronger dramatic sense than others1 and
 take an artistic pleasure in playing a 
part4 ,i knew a man who was a great     
invalid and a frequent sufferer1 who    
took a great pleasure in appearing in   
public functions4 ,he would drag himself
 from his bed to make a public          
appearance of any kind4 ,i think that he
 consoled himself by believing that he  
did so from a strong and sustaining     
sense of duty2 but ,i believe that the  
pleasure of the thing was really at the 
root of his effort1 as it is at the root
 of most of the duties we faithfully    
perform4 ,i do not mean that he had a   
strong natural vanity1 though his       
enemies accused him of it4 ,but         
publicity was naturally congenial to    
him1 and the only sign1 as a rule1 that 
he was suffering1 when he made such an  
appearance1 was a greater deliberation  
of movement1 and a ghastly fixity of    
smile4 ,as to the latter phenomenon1 a  

man with the dramatic sense strongly    
developed1 will no doubt take a positive
 pleasure in trying to obliterate from  
his face and manner all traces of his   
private discomfort4 ,such stoicism is a 
fine quality in its way1 but the quality
 that ,i am in search of is an even     
finer one than that4 ,my friend's       
efforts were ultimately based on a sort 
of egotism1 a profound conviction that a
 public part suited him1 and that he    
performed it well4 ,what one rather     
desires to attain is a more sympathetic 
quality1 an interest in other people so 
vital and inspiring that one's own      
personal sufferings are light in the    
scale when weighed against the enjoyment
 of others4 ,it is not impossible to    
develop this in the face of considerable
 bodily suffering4 ,one of the most     
inveterately cheerful people ,i have    
ever known was a man who suffered from a
 painful and irritating complaint1 but  
whose geniality and good-will were so   
strong that they not only overpowered   

his malaise1 but actually afforded him  
considerable relief4 ,some people who   
suffer can only suffer in solitude4     
,they have to devote the whole of their 
nervous energies to the task of         
endurance2 but others find society an   
agreeable distraction1 and fly to it as 
an escape from discomfort4 ,i suppose   
that every one has experienced at times 
that extraordinary rebellion1 so to     
speak1 of cheerfulness against an attack
 of physical pain4 ,there have been days
 when ,i have suffered from some small  
but acutely disagreeable ailment1 and   
yet found my cheerfulness not only not  
dimmed but apparently enhanced by the   
physical suffering4 ,of course there are
 maladies even of a serious kind of     
which one of the symptoms is a great    
mental depression1 but there are other  
maladies which seem actually to produce 
an instinctive hopefulness4  ,but the   
question is whether it is possible1 by  
sustained effort1 to behave             
independently of one's mood1 and what   

motive is strong enough to make one     
detach oneself resolutely from          
discomforts and woes4 ,good manners     
provide perhaps the most practical      
assistance4 ,the people who are brought 
up with a tradition of highbred         
courtesy1 and who learn almost          
instinctively to repress their own      
individuality1 can generally triumph    
over their moods4 ,perhaps in their     
expansive moments they lose a little    
spontaneity in the process2 they are    
cheerful rather than buoyant1 gentle    
rather than pungent4 ,but the result is 
that when the mood shifts into          
depression1 they are still imperturbably
 courteous and considerate4 ,a near     
relation of a great public man1 who     
suffered greatly from mental depression1
 has told me that some of the most      
painful minutes he has ever been witness
 of were1 when the great man1 after     
behaving on some occasion of social     
festivity with an admirable and         
sustained gaiety1 fell for a moment into

 irreclaimable and hopeless gloom and   
fatigue1 and then again1 by a resolute  
effort1 became strenuously considerate  
and patient in the privacy of the family
 circle4  ,some people achieve the same 
mastery over mood by an intensity of    
religious conviction4 ,but the worst of 
that particular triumph is that an      
attitude of chastened religious patience
 is1 not unusually1 a rather depressing 
thing4 ,it is so restrained1 so pious1  
that it tends to deprive life of natural
 and unaffected joy4 ,if it is patient  
and submissive in affliction1 it is also
 tame and mild in cheerful surroundings4
 ,it issues too frequently in a kind of 
holy tolerance of youthful ebullience   
and vivid emotions4 ,it results in the  
kind of character that is known as      
saintly1 and is generally accompanied by
 a strong deficiency in the matter of   
humour4 ,life is regarded as too serious
 a business to be played with1 and the  
delight in trifles1 which is one of the 
surest signs of healthy energy1 becomes 

ashamed and abashed in its presence4    
,the atmosphere that it creates is      
oppressive1 remote1 ungenial4 ,i declare
 that ,uncle ,john is intolerable1      
except when there is a death in the     
family--and then he is insupportable1   
said a youthful nephew of a virtuous    
clergyman of this type in my presence   
the other day1 adding1 after reflection1
 ,he seems to think that to die is the  
only really satisfactory thing that any 
one ever does4 ,that is the worst of    
carrying out the precept1 ,set your     
affections on things above1 not on      
things of the earth1 too literally4 ,it 
is not so good a precept1 after all1 as 
,if a man love not his brother1 whom he 
hath seen1 how shall he love ,god1 ,whom
 he hath not seen8 ,it is somehow an    
incomplete philosophy to despise the    
only definite existence we are certain  
of possessing4 ,one desires a richer    
thing than that1 a philosophy that ends 
in temperance1 rather than in a harsh   
asceticism4  ,the handling of life that 

seems the most desirable is the method  
which the ,platonic ,socrates employed4 
,perhaps he was an ideal figure2 but yet
 there are few figures more real4 ,there
 we have an elderly man of incomparable 
ugliness1 who is yet delightfully and   
perennially youthful1 bubbling over with
 interest1 affection1 courtesy1 humour1 
admiration4 ,with what a delicious      
mixture of irony and tenderness he      
treats the young men who surround him6  
,when some lively sparks made up their  
minds to do what we now call rag him1   
dressed themselves up as ,furies1 and   
ran out upon him as he turned a dark    
corner on his way home1 ,socrates was   
not in the least degree disturbed1 but  
discoursed with them readily on many    
matters and particularly on temperance2 
when at the banquet the topers          
disappear1 one by one1 under the table1 
,socrates1 who1 besides taking his due  
share of the wine1 had filled and drunk 
the contents of the wine-cooler1 is     
found cheerfully sitting1 crowned with  

roses1 among the expiring lamps1 in the 
grey of the morning1 discussing the     
higher mathematics4 ,he is never sick or
 sorry2 he is poor and has a scolding   
wife2 he fasts or eats as circumstances 
dictate2 he never does anything in      
particular1 but he has always infinite  
leisure to have his talk out4 ,is he    
drawn for military service8 he goes off1
 with an entire indifference to the     
hardships of the campaign4 ,when the    
force is routed1 he stalks deliberately 
off the field1 looking round him like a 
great bird1 with the kind of air that   
makes pursuers let people alone1 as     
,alcibiades said4 ,and when the final   
catastrophe draws near1 he defends      
himself under a capital charge with     
infinite good-humour2 he has cared      
nothing for slander and                 
misrepresentation all his life1 and why 
should he begin now8 ,in the last       
inspired scene1 he is the only man of   
the group who keeps his courteous       
tranquillity to the end2 he had been    

sent into the world1 he had lived his   
life1 why should he fear to be          
dismissed8 ,it matters little1 in the   
presence of this august imagination1 if 
the real ,socrates was a rude and prosy 
person1 who came by his death simply    
because the lively ,athenians could     
tolerate anything but a bore6  ,the     
,socratic attitude is better than the   
high-bred attitude2 it is better than   
the stoical attitude2 it is even better 
than the pious attitude1 because it     
depends upon living life to the         
uttermost1 rather than upon detaching   
oneself from what one considers rather a
 poor business4 ,the attitude of        
,socrates is based upon courage1        
generosity1 simplicity4 ,he knows that  
it is with fear that we weight our      
melancholy sensibilities1 that it is    
with meanness and coldness that we      
poison life1 that it is with complicated
 conventional duties that we fetter our 
weakness4 ,socrates has no personal     
ambitions1 and thus he is rid of all    

envy and uncharitableness2 he sees the  
world as it is1 a very bright and brave 
place1 teeming with interesting ideas   
and undetermined problems4 ,where       
,christianity has advanced upon         
this--for it has advanced splendidly and
 securely--is in interpreting life less 
intellectually4 ,the intellectual side  
of life is what ,socrates adores2 the   
,christian faith is applicable to a far 
wider circle of homely lives4 ,yet      
,christianity too1 in spite of          
ecclesiasticism1 teems with ideas4 ,its 
essence is an unprejudiced freedom of   
soul4 ,its problems are problems of     
character which the simplest child can  
appreciate4 ,but ,christianity1 too1 is 
built upon a basis of joy4 ,freely ye   
have received1 freely give1 is its      
essential maxim4  ,the secret then is to
 enjoy2 but the enjoyment must not be   
that of the spoiler who carries away all
 that he can1 and buries it in his tent2
 but the joy of relationship1 the joy of
 conspiring together to be happy1 the   

joy of consoling and sympathising and   
sharing1 because we have received so    
much4 ,of course there remain the       
limitations of temperament1 the         
difficulty of preventing our own acrid  
humours from overflowing into other     
lives2 but this cannot be overcome by   
repression2 it can only be overcome by  
tenderness4 ,there are very few people  
who have not the elements of this in    
their character4 ,i can count upon my   
fingers the malevolent men ,i know1 who 
prefer making others uncomfortable to   
trying to make them glad2 and all these 
men have been bullied in their youth1   
and are unconsciously protecting        
themselves against bullying still4 ,we  
grow selfish1 no doubt1 for want of     
practice2 ill-health makes villains of  
some of us4 ,but we can learn1 if we    
desire it1 to keep our gruffness for our
 own consumption1 and a very few        
experiments will soon convince us that  
there are few pleasures in the world so 
reasonable and so cheap1 as the pleasure

 of giving pleasure4  ,but1 after all1  
the resolute cheerfulness that can be to
 a certain extent captured and secured  
by an effort of the will1 though it is  
perhaps a more useful quality than      
natural joy1 and no doubt ranks together
 in the moral scale1 is not to be       
compared with a certain unreasoning1    
incommunicable rapture which sometimes1 
without conscious effort or desire1     
descends upon the spirit1 like sunshine 
after rain4 ,let me quote a recent      
experience of my own which may          
illustrate it4  ,a few days ago1 ,i had 
a busy tiresome morning hammering into  
shape a stupid prosaic passage1 of no   
suggestiveness2 a mere statement1 the   
only beauty of which could be that it   
should be absolutely lucid2 and this    
beauty it resolutely refused to assume4 
,then the agent called to see me1 and we
 talked business of a dull kind4 ,then  
,i walked a little way among fields2 and
 when ,i was in a pleasant flat piece of
 ground1 full of thickets1 where the    

stream makes a bold loop among willows  
and alders1 the sun set behind a great  
bastion of clouds that looked like a    
huge fortification4 ,it had been one of 
those days of cloudless skies1 all      
flooded with the pale cold              
honey-coloured light of the winter sun1 
until a sense almost of spring came into
 the air2 and in a sheltered place ,i   
found a little golden hawk-weed in full 
flower4  ,it had not been a satisfactory
 day at all to me4 ,the statement that  
,i had toiled so hard all the morning to
 make clear was not particularly worth  
making2 it could effect but little at   
best1 and ,i had worked at it in a      
,british doggedness of spirit1          
regardless of its value and only because
 ,i was determined not to be beaten by  
it4  ,but for all that ,i came home in a
 rare and delightful frame of mind1 as  
if ,i had heard a brief and delicate    
passage of music1 a conspiracy of sweet 
sounds and rich tones2 or as if ,i had  
passed through a sweet scent1 such as   

blows from a clover-field in summer4    
,there was no definite thought to       
disentangle3 it was rather as if ,i had 
had a glimpse of the land which lies    
east of the sun and west of the moon1   
had seen the towers of a castle rise    
over a wood of oaks2 met a company of   
serious people in comely apparel riding 
blithely on the turf of a forest road1  
who had waved me a greeting1 and left me
 wondering out of what rich kind of     
scene they had stepped to bless me4 ,it 
left me feeling as though there were    
some beautiful life1 very near me1 all  
around me1 behind the mirror1 outside of
 the door1 beyond the garden-hedges1 if 
,i could but learn the spell which would
 open it to me2 left me pleasantly and  
happily athirst for a life of gracious  
influences and of an unknown and perfect
 peace2 such as creeps over the mind for
 the moment at the sight of a deep      
woodland at sunset1 when the forest is  
veiled in the softest of blue mist2 or  
at the sound of some creeping sea1      

beating softly all night on a level     
sand2 or at the prospect of a winter sun
 going down into smoky orange vapours   
over a wide expanse of pastoral country2
 or at the soft close of some solemn    
music--when peace seems not only        
desirable beyond all things but         
attainable too4  ,how can one account   
for this sudden and joyful visitation8  
,i am going to try and set down what ,i 
believe to be the explanation1 if ,i can
 reduce to words a thought which is     
perfectly clear to me1 however          
transcendental it may seem4  ,well1 at  
such a moment as this1 one feels just as
 one may feel when from the streets of a
 dark and crowded city1 with the cold   
shadow of a cloud passing over it1 one  
sees the green head of a mountain over  
the housetops1 all alone with the wind  
and the sun1 with its crag-bastions1 its
 terraces and winding turf ways4  ,the  
peace that thus blesses one is not1 ,i  
think1 a merely subjective mood1 an     
imagined thing4 ,it is1 ,i believe1 a   

real and actual thing which is there4   
,one's consciousness does not create its
 impressions1 one does not make for     
oneself the moral and artistic ideas    
that visit one2 one perceives them4     
,education is not a process of          
invention--it is a process of discovery2
 a process of learning the names given  
to things that are all present in one's 
own mind4 ,one knows things long before 
one knows the names for them1 by        
instinct and by intuition2 and one's own
 mind is simply a part of a large and   
immortal life1 which for a time is      
fenced by a little barrier of identity1 
just as a tiny pool of sea-water on a   
sea-beach is for a few hours separated  
from the great tide to which it belongs4
 ,all our regrets1 remorses1 anxieties1 
troubles arise from our not realising   
that we are but a part of this greater  
and wider life1 from our delusion that  
we are alone and apart instead of1 as is
 the case1 one with the great ocean of  
life and joy4  ,sometimes1 ,i know not  

why and how1 we are for a moment or two 
in touch with the larger life--to some  
it comes in religion1 to some in love1  
to some in art4 ,perhaps a wave of the  
onward sweeping tide beats for an       
instant into the little pool we call our
 own1 stirring the fringing weed1       
bubbling sharply and freshly upon the   
sleeping sand4  ,the sad mistake we make
 is1 when such a moment comes1 to feel  
as though it were only the stirring of  
our own feeble imagination4 ,what we    
ought rather to do is by every effort we
 can make to welcome and comprehend this
 dawning of the larger life upon us2 not
 to sink back peevishly into our own    
limits and timidly to deplore them1 but 
resolutely to open the door again and   
again--for the door can be opened--to   
the light of the great sun that lies so 
broadly about us4 ,every now and then we
 have some startling experience which   
reveals to us our essential union with  
other individuals4 ,we have many of us  
had experiences which seem to indicate  

that there is at times a direct         
communication with other minds1         
independent of speech or writing2 and   
even if we have not had such            
experiences1 it has been scientifically 
demonstrated that such things can occur4
 ,telepathy1 as it is clumsily called1  
which is nothing more than this direct  
communication of mind1 is a thing which 
has been demonstrated in a way which no 
reasonable person can reject4 ,we may   
call it abnormal if we like1 and it is  
true that we do not as yet know under   
what conditions it exists2 but it is as 
much there as electrical communication1 
and just as the electrician does not    
create the viewless ripples which his   
delicate instruments can catch and      
record1 but merely makes it a matter of 
mechanics to detect them1 so the ripple 
of human intercommunication is          
undoubtedly there2 and when we have     
discovered what its laws are1 we shall  
probably find that it underlies many    
things1 such as enthusiasms1 movements1 

the spirit of a community1 patriotism1  
martial ardour1 which now appear to us  
to be isolated and mysterious phenomena4
  ,but there is a larger thing than even
 that behind4 ,in humanity we have      
merely a certain portion of this large  
life1 which may spread for all we know  
beyond the visible universe1 globed and 
bounded1 like the spray of a fountain1  
into little separate individualities4   
,some of the urgent inexplicable        
emotions which visit us from time to    
time1 immense1 far-reaching1 mysterious1
 are1 ,i believe with all my heart1 the 
pulsations of this vast life outside us1
 stirring for an instant the silence of 
our sleeping spirit4 ,it is possible1 ,i
 cannot help feeling1 that those people 
live the best of all possible lives who 
devote themselves to receiving these    
pulsations4 ,it may well be that in     
following anxiously the movement of the 
world1 in giving ourselves to politics  
or business1 or technical religion1 or  
material cares1 we are but delaying the 

day of our freedom by throwing ourselves
 intently into our limitations1 and     
forgetting the wider life4 ,it may be   
that the life which ,christ seems to    
have suggested as the type of ,christian
 life--the life of constant prayer1     
simple and kindly relations1            
indifference to worldly conditions1     
absence of ambitions1 fearlessness1     
sincerity--may be the life in which we  
can best draw near to the larger        
spirit--for ,christ spoke as one who    
knew some prodigious secret1 as one in  
whose soul the larger life leapt and    
plunged like fresh sea-billows2 who was 
incapable of sin and even of temptation1
 because ,his soul had free and open    
contact with the all-pervading spirit1  
and to whom the human limitations were  
no barrier at all4  ,we do not know as  
yet the mechanical means1 so to speak1  
by which the connection can be          
established1 the door set wide4 ,but we 
can at least open our soul to every     
breathing of divine influences2 and when

 the great wind rises and thunders in   
our spirits1 we can see that no claim of
 business1 or weakness1 or comfort1 or  
convention shall hinder us from         
admitting it4  ,and thus when one of    
these sweet1 high1 uplifting thoughts   
draws near and visits us1 we can but    
say1 as the child ,samuel said in the   
dim-lit temple1 ,speak1 ,lord1 for ,thy 
servant heareth4 ,the music comes upon  
the air1 in faint and tremulous gusts2  
it dies away across the garden1 over the
 far hill-side1 into the cloudless sky2 
but we have heard2 we are not the same2 
we are transfigured4  ,why then1 lastly1
 it may be asked1 do these experiences  
befall us so faintly1 so secretly1 so   
seldom2 if it is the true life that     
beats so urgently into our souls1 why   
are we often so careful and disquieted1 
why do we fare such long spaces without 
the heavenly vision1 why do we see1 or  
seem to see1 so many of our fellows to  
whom such things come rarely or not at  
all8 ,i cannot answer that2 yet ,i feel 

that the life is there2 and ,i can but  
fall back upon the gentle words of the  
old saint1 who wrote3 ,i know not how it
 is1 but the more the realities of      
heaven are clothed with obscurity1 the  
more they delight and attract2 and      
nothing so much heightens longing as    
such tender refusal4     ,,xviii4 ,,the 
,,love ,,of ,,god   ,how strange it is  
that what is often the latest reward of 
the toiler after holiness1 the extreme  
solace of the outwearied saint1 should  
be too often made the first irksome     
article of a childish creed6 ,to tell a 
child that it is a duty to love ,god    
better than father or mother1 sisters   
and brothers1 better than play1 or      
stories1 or food1 or toys1 what a       
monstrous thing is that6 ,it is one of  
the things that make religion into a    
dreary and darkling shadow1 that haunts 
the path of the innocent4 ,the child's  
love is all for tangible1 audible1 and  
visible things4 ,love for him means kind
 words and smiling looks1 ready comfort 

and lavished kisses2 the child does not 
even love things for being beautiful1   
but for being what they ,,are--curious1 
characteristic1 interesting4 ,he loves  
the odd frowsy smell of the shut-up     
attic1 the bright ugly ornaments of the 
chimney-piece1 the dirt of the street4  
,he has no sense of critical taste4     
,besides1 words mean so little to him1  
or even bear quaint1 fantastic          
associations1 which no one can divine1  
and which he himself is unable to       
express2 he has no notion of an         
abstract1 essential1 spiritual thing1   
apart from what is actual to his senses4
 ,and then into this little concrete    
mind1 so full of small definite images1 
so faltering and frail1 is thrust this  
vast1 remote notion--that he is bound to
 love something hidden and terrible1    
something that looks at him from the    
blank sky when he is alone among the    
garden beds1 something which haunts     
empty rooms and the dark brake of the   
woodland4 ,moreover1 a child1 with its  

preternatural sensitiveness to pain1 its
 bewildered terror of punishment1       
learns1 side by side with this1 that the
 ,god ,whom he is to love thus tenderly 
is the ,god ,who lays about ,him so     
fiercely in the ,old ,testament1 slaying
 the innocent with the guilty1          
merciless1 harsh1 inflicting the        
irreparable stroke of death1 where a man
 would be concerned with desiring       
amendment more than vengeance4 ,the     
simple questions with which the man     
,friday poses ,robinson ,crusoe1 and to 
which he receives so ponderous an       
answer1 are the questions which         
naturally arise in the mind of any      
thoughtful child4 ,why1 if ,god be so   
kind and loving1 does ,he not make an   
end of evil at once8 ,yet1 because such 
questions are unanswerable by the       
wisest1 the child is1 for the           
convenience of his education1 made to   
feel that he is wicked if he questions  
what he is taught4 ,how many children   
will persevere in the innocent          

scepticism which is so natural and so   
desirable1 under a sense of disapproval8
 ,one of my own earliest experiences in 
the ugly path of religious gloom was    
that ,i recognised quite clearly to     
myself that ,i did not love ,god at all4
 ,i did not know ,him1 ,i had no reason 
to think ,him kind2 ,he was angry with  
me1 ,i gathered1 if ,i was ill-tempered 
or untruthful4 ,i was well enough aware 
by childish instinct that my mother did 
not cease to love me when ,i was        
naughty1 but ,i could not tell about    
,god4 ,and yet ,i knew that1 with ,his  
terrible power of knowing everything1   
,he was well aware that ,i did not love 
,him4 ,it was best to forget about ,him 
as much as possible1 for it spoiled     
one's pleasure to think about it4 ,all  
the little amusements and idle          
businesses that were so dear to me1 ,he 
probably disapproved of them all1 and   
was only satisfied when ,i was safe at  
my lessons or immured in church4 ,sunday
 was the sort of day ,he liked1 and how 

,i detested it6--the toys put away1     
little ugly books about the ,holy ,land 
to read1 an air of deep dreariness about
 it all4 ,thus does religion become a   
weariness from the outset4  ,how slowly1
 and after what strange experience1 by  
what infinite delay of deduction1 does  
the love of ,god dawn upon the soul6    
,even then how faint and subtle an      
essence it is6 ,in deep anxiety1 under  
unbearable strain1 in the grip of a     
dilemma of which either issue seems     
intolerable1 in weariness of life1 in   
hours of flagging vitality1 the mighty  
tide begins to flow strongly and        
tranquilly into the soul4 ,one did not  
make oneself2 one did not make one's    
sorrows1 even when they arose from one's
 own weakness and perversity4 ,there was
 a meaning1 a significance about it all2
 one was indeed on pilgrimage2 and then 
comes the running to the ,father's knee1
 and the casting oneself in utter broken
 weakness upon the one ,heart that      
understands perfectly and utterly1 and  

which does1 which must1 desire the best 
and truest4 ,give me courage1 hope1     
confidence1 says the desolate soul4     
,i can endure ,thy bitterest decrees1   
,if ,,certain of ,thy ,love4   ,how     
would one amend all this if one had the 
power8 ,alas6 it could only be by       
silencing all stupid and clumsy people1 
all rigid parents1 all diplomatic       
priests1 all the horrible natures who   
lick their lips with a fierce zest over 
the pains that befall the men with whom 
they do not agree4 ,i would teach a     
child1 in defiance even of reason1 that 
,god is the one ,power that loves and   
understands him through thick and thin2 
that ,he punishes with anguish and      
sorrow2 that ,he exults in forgiveness  
and mercy2 that ,he rejoices in innocent
 happiness2 that ,he loves courage1 and 
brightness1 and kindness1 and cheerful  
self-sacrifice2 that things mean1 and   
vile1 and impure1 and cruel1 are things 
that ,he does not love to punish1 but   
sad and soiling stains that ,he beholds 

with shame and tears4 ,this1 it seems to
 me1 is the ,gospel teaching about ,god1
 impossible only because of the hardness
 of our hearts4 ,but if it were         
possible1 a child might grow to feel    
about sin1 not that it was a horrible   
and unpardonable failure1 a thing to    
afflict oneself drearily about1 but that
 it was rather a thing which1 when once 
spurned1 however humiliating1 could     
minister to progress1 in a way in which 
untroubled happiness could not          
operate--to be forgotten1 perhaps1 but  
certainly to be forgiven2 a privilege   
rather than a hindrance1 a gate rather  
than a barrier2 a shadow upon the path1 
out of which one would pass1 with such  
speed as one might1 into the blitheness 
of the free air and the warm sun4 ,i    
remember a terrible lecture which ,i    
heard as a little bewildered boy at     
school1 anxious to do right1 terrified  
of oppression1 and coldness1 and evil   
alike2 given by a worthy ,evangelical   
clergyman1 with large spectacles1 and a 

hollow voice1 and a great relish for    
spiritual terrors4 ,the subject was the 
exceeding sinfulness of sin1 a          
proposition which ,i now see to be as   
true as if one lectured on the exceeding
 carnality of flesh4 ,but the lecture   
spoke of the horrible and filthy        
corruption of the human heart1 its      
determined delight in wallowing in evil1
 its desperate wickedness4 ,i believed  
it1 dully and hopelessly1 as a boy      
believes what is told him by a voluble  
elderly person of obvious               
respectability4 ,but what a detestable  
theory of life1 what an ugly picture of 
,divine incompetence6  ,of course there 
are abundance of facts in the world     
which look like anything but love2--the 
ruthless and merciless punishment of    
carelessness and ignorance1 the dark    
laws of heredity1 the wastefulness and  
cruelty of disease1 the dismal          
acquiescence of stupid1 healthy1        
virtuous persons1 without sympathy or   
imagination1 in the hardships which they

 were strong enough to bear unscathed4  
,one of the prime terrors of religion is
 the thought of the heavy-handed1       
unintelligent1 tiresome men who would   
make it a monopoly if they could1 and   
bear it triumphantly away from the hands
 of modest1 humble1 quiet1 and          
tender-hearted people1 chiding them as  
nebulous optimists4  ,who are the people
 in this short life of ours whom one    
remembers with deep and abiding         
gratitude8 ,not those who have rebuked1 
and punished1 and satirised1 and        
humiliated us1 striking down the        
stricken1 and flattening the            
prostrate--but the people who have been 
patient with us1 and kind1 who have     
believed in us1 and comforted us1 and   
welcomed us1 and forgiven us everything2
 who have given us largely of their     
love1 who have lent without requiring   
payment1 who have given us emotional    
rather than prudential reasons1 who have
 cared for us1 not as a duty but by some
 divine instinct1 who have made endless 

excuses for us1 believing that the true 
self was there and would emerge1 who    
have pardoned our misdeeds and forgotten
 our meannesses4  ,this is what ,i would
 believe of ,god--that ,he is not our   
censorious and severe critic1 but our   
champion and lover1 not loving us in    
spite of what we are1 but because of    
what we are2 ,who in the days of our    
strength rejoices in our joy1 and does  
not wish to overshadow it1 like the     
conscientious human mentor1 with        
considerations that we must yet be      
withered like grass2 and ,who1 when the 
youthful ebullience dies away1 and the  
spring grows weak1 and we wonder why the
 zest has died out of simple pleasures1 
out of agreeable noise and stir1 is     
still with us1 reminding us that the    
wisdom we are painfully and surely      
gaining is a deeper and more lasting    
quality than even the hot impulses of   
youth4  ,once in my life have ,i        
conceived what might have been1 if ,i   
had had the skill to paint it1 an       

immortal picture4 ,it was thus4 ,i was  
attending a ,christmas morning service  
in a big parish church4 ,i was in a pew 
facing east2 close to me1 in a transept1
 in a pew facing sideways1 there sat a  
little old woman1 who had hurried in    
just before the service began4 ,she was 
a widow1 living1 ,i afterwards learnt1  
in an almshouse hard by4 ,she was old   
and feeble1 very poor1 and her life had 
been a series of calamities1 relieved   
upon a background of the hardest and    
humblest drudgery4 ,she had lost her    
husband years ago by a painful and      
terrible illness4 ,she had lost her     
children one by one2 she was alone in   
the world1 save for a few distant and   
indifferent relatives4 ,to get into the 
almshouse had been for her a stroke of  
incredible and inconceivable good       
fortune4 ,she had a single room1 with a 
tiny kitchen off it4 ,she had very      
little to say for herself2 she could    
hardly read4 ,no one took any particular
 interest in her2 but she was a kindly1 

gallant1 unselfish old soul1 always     
ready to bear a hand1 full of gratitude 
for the kindnesses she had received--and
 ,god alone knows how few they had been4
  ,she had a small1 ugly1 homely face1  
withered and gnarled hands2 and she was 
dressed that day in a little old bonnet 
of unheard-of age1 and in dingy1 frowsy 
black clothes1 shiny and creased1 that  
came out of their box perhaps           
half-a-dozen times a year4  ,but this   
morning she was in a festal mood4 ,she  
had tidied up her little room2 she was  
going to have a bit of meat for dinner1 
given her by a neighbour4 ,she had been 
sent a ,christmas card that morning1 and
 had pored over it with delight4 ,she   
liked the stir and company of the       
church1 and the cheerful air of the     
holly-berries4 ,she held her book up    
before her1 though ,i do not suppose she
 was even at the right page4 ,she kept  
up a little faint cracked singing in her
 thin old voice2 but when they came to  
the hymn ,hark1 the herald angels sing1 

which she had always known from         
childhood1 she lifted up her head and   
sang more courageously3        ,join the
 triumph of the skies6       ,with the  
angelic host proclaim1       ,christ is 
born in ,bethlehem6   ,it was then that 
,i had my vision4 ,i do not know why1   
but at the sight of the wrinkled face   
and the sound of the plaintive uplifted 
voice1 singing such words1 a sudden mist
 of tears came over my eyes4 ,then ,i   
saw that close behind the old dame there
 stood a very young and beautiful man4  
,i could see the fresh curling hair     
thrown back from the clear brow4 ,he was
 clothed in a dim robe1 of an opalescent
 hue and misty texture1 and his hands   
were clasped together4 ,it seemed that  
he sang too2 but his eyes were bent upon
 the old woman with a look1 half of     
tender amusement1 and half of           
unutterable lovingness4 ,the angelic    
host6 ,this was one of that bright      
company indeed1 going about the         
,father's business1 bringing a joyful   

peace into the hearts of those among    
whom he moved4 ,and of all the          
worshippers in that crowded church he   
had singled out the humblest and        
simplest for his friend and sister4 ,i  
saw no more that day1 for the lines of  
that presence faded out upon the air in 
the gleams of the frosty sunshine that  
came and went among the pillars4 ,but if
 ,i could have painted the scene1 the   
pure1 untroubled face so close to the   
old worn features1 the robes of light   
side by side with the dingy human       
vesture1 it would be a picture that no  
living eye that had rested on it should 
forget4  ,alas1 that one cannot live in 
moments of inspiration like these6 ,as  
life goes on1 and as we begin perhaps to
 grow a little nearer to ,god by faith1 
we are confronted in our own lives1 or  
in the life of one very near us1 by some
 intolerable and shameful catastrophe4  
,a careless sin makes havoc of a life1  
and shadows a home with shame2 or some  
generous or unselfish nature1 useful1   

beneficent1 urgently needed1 is struck  
down with a painful and hopeless malady4
 ,this too1 we say to ourselves1 must   
come from ,god2 ,he might have prevented
 it if ,he had so willed4 ,what are we  
to make of it8 ,how are we to translate 
into terms of love what seems like an   
act of tyrannous indifference1 or       
deliberate cruelty8 ,then1 ,i think1 it 
is well to remind ourselves that we can 
never know exactly the conditions of any
 other human soul4 ,how little we know  
of our own6 ,how little we could explain
 our case to another1 even if we were   
utterly sincere6 ,the weaknesses of our 
nature are often1 very tenderly ,i would
 believe1 hidden from us2 we think      
ourselves sensitive and weak1 when in   
reality we are armed with a stubborn    
breastplate of complacency and pride2 or
 we think ourselves strong1 only because
 the blows of circumstance have been    
spared us4 ,the more one knows of the   
most afflicted lives1 the more often the
 conviction flashes across us that the  

affliction is not a wanton outrage1 but 
a delicately adjusted treatment4 ,i     
remember once that a friend of mine had 
sent him a rare plant1 which was set in 
a big flower-pot1 close to a            
fountain-basin4 ,it never throve2 it    
lived indeed1 putting out in the spring 
a delicate stunted foliage1 though my   
friend1 who was a careful gardener1     
could never divine what ailed it4 ,he   
was away for a few weeks1 and the day   
after he was gone1 the flower-pot was   
broken by a careless garden-boy1 who    
wheeled a barrow roughly past it2 the   
plant1 earth and all1 fell into the     
water2 the boy removed the broken pieces
 of the pot1 and seeing that the plant  
had sunk to the bottom of the little    
pool1 never troubled his head to fish it
 out4 ,when my friend returned1 he      
noticed one day in the fountain a new   
and luxuriant growth of some unknown    
plant4 ,he made careful inquiries and   
found out what had happened4 ,it then   
came out that the plant was in reality a

 water-plant1 and that it had pined away
 in the stifling air for want of        
nourishment1 perhaps dimly longing for  
the fresh bed of the pool4  ,even so has
 it been1 times without number1 with    
some starving and thirsty soul1 that has
 gone on feebly trying to live a maimed 
life1 shut up in itself1 ailing1 feeble4
 ,there has descended upon it what looks
 at first sight like a calamity1 some   
affliction unaccountable and            
irreparable2 and then it proves that    
this was the one thing needed2 that     
sorrow has brought out some latent      
unselfishness1 or suffering energised   
some unused faculty of strength and     
patience4  ,but even if it is not so1 if
 we cannot trace in our own lives or the
 lives of others the beneficent         
influence of suffering1 we can always   
take refuge in one thought4 ,we can see 
that the one mighty and transforming    
power on earth is the power of love2 we 
see people make sacrifices1 not         
momentary sacrifices1 but lifelong      

patient renunciations1 for the sake of  
one whom they love2 we see a great and  
passionate affection touch into being a 
whole range of unsuspected powers2 we   
see men and women utterly unconscious of
 pain and weariness1 utterly unaware    
that they are acting without a thought  
of self1 if they can but soothe the pain
 of one dear to them1 or win a smile    
from beloved lips2 it is not that the   
selfishness1 the indolence1 is not      
there1 but it is all borne away upon a  
mighty stream1 as the river-wrack spins 
upon the rising flood4  ,if then this   
marvellous1 this amazing power of love  
can cause men to make1 with joy and     
gladness1 sacrifices of which in their  
loveless days they would have deemed    
themselves and confessed themselves     
wholly incapable1 can we not feel with  
confidence that the power1 which lies   
thus deepest in the heart of the world1 
lies also deepest in the heart of ,god1 
of ,whom the world is but a faint       
reflection8 ,it cannot be otherwise4 ,we

 may sadly ponder1 indeed1 why the love 
that has been1 or that might have been1 
the strength of weary lives should be   
withdrawn or sternly withheld1 but we   
need not be afraid1 if we have one      
generous impulse for another1 if we ever
 put aside a delight that may please or 
attract us1 for the sake of one who     
expects or would value any smallest     
service--and there are few who cannot   
feel this--we need not then1 ,i say1    
doubt that the love which we desire1 and
 which we have somehow missed or lost1  
is there waiting for us1 ours all the   
time1 if we but knew it4  ,and even if  
we miss the sweet influence of love in  
our lives1 is there any one who has not1
 in solitude and dreariness1 looked back
 upon the time when he was surrounded by
 love and opportunities of love1 in     
childhood or in youth1 with a bitter    
regret that he did not make more of it  
when it was so near to him1 that he was 
so blind and selfish1 that he was not a 
little more tender1 a little more kind8 

,i will speak frankly for myself and say
 that the memories which hurt me most1  
when ,i stumble upon them1 are those of 
the small occasions when ,i showed      
myself perverse and hard2 when eyes1    
long since closed1 looked at me with a  
pathetic expectancy2 when ,i warded off 
the loving impulse by some jealous sense
 of my own rights1 some peevish anger at
 a fancied injustice2 when ,i stifled   
the smile and withheld the hand1 and    
turned away in silence1 glad1 in that   
poisonous moment1 to feel that ,i could 
at all events inflict that pain in base 
requital4 ,one may know that it is all  
forgiven1 one may be sure that the      
misunderstanding has faded in the light 
of the other dawn1 but still the cold   
base shadow1 the thought of one's       
perverse cruelty1 strikes a gloom upon  
the mind4  ,but with ,god1 when one once
 begins to draw near to ,him1 one need  
have no such poignant regrets or        
overshadowing memories2 one may say to  
,him in one's heart1 as simply as a     

child1 that ,he knows what one has been 
and is1 what one might have been and    
what one desires to be2 and one may cast
 oneself at ,his feet in the            
overwhelming hope that ,he will make of 
oneself what ,he would have one to be4  
,in the parable of the ,prodigal ,son1  
it is not the poor wretch himself1 whose
 miserable motive for returning is      
plainly indicated--that instead of      
pining in cold and hunger he may be     
warmed and clothed--who is the hero of  
the story2 still less is it the hard and
 virtuous elder son4 ,the hero of the   
tale is the patient1 tolerant1 loving   
father1 who had acted1 as a censorious  
critic might say1 foolishly and         
culpably1 in supplying the dissolute boy
 with resources1 and taking him back    
without a word of just reproach4 ,a sad 
lack of moral discipline1 no doubt6 ,if 
he had kept the boy in fear and         
godliness1 if he had tied him down to   
honest work1 the disaster need never    
have happened4 ,yet the old man1 who    

went so often at sundown1 we may think1 
to the crest of the hill1 from which he 
could see the long road winding over the
 plain to the far-off city1 the road by 
which he had seen his son depart1       
light-heartedly and full of fierce      
joyful impulses1 and along which he was 
to see the dejected figure1 so familiar1
 so sadly marred1 stumbling home--he is 
the master-spirit of the sweet and      
comforting scene4 ,his heart is full of 
utter gladness1 for the lost is found4  
,he smiles upon the servants2 he bids   
the household rejoice2 he can hardly1 in
 his simple joy of heart1 believe that  
the froward elder brother is vexed and  
displeased2 and his words of entreaty   
that the brother1 too1 will enter into  
the spirit of the hour1 are some of the 
most pathetic and beautiful ever framed 
in human speech3 ,son1 thou art ever    
with me1 and all that ,i have is thine2 
it was meet that we should make merry1  
and be glad3 for this thy brother was   
dead1 and is alive again1 and was lost1 

and is found4  ,and this is1 after all1 
the way in which ,god deals with us4 ,he
 gives us our portion to spend as we    
choose2 ,he holds nothing back2 and when
 we have wasted it and brought misery   
upon ourselves1 and return to ,him1 even
 for the worst of reasons1 ,he has not a
 word of rebuke or caution2 ,he is      
simply and utterly filled with joy and  
love4 ,there are a thousand texts that  
would discourage us1 would bid us       
believe that ,god deals hardly with us1 
but it is men that deal hardly with us1 
it is we that deal hardly with          
ourselves4 ,this story1 which is surely 
the most beautiful story in the world1  
gives us the deliberate thought of the  
,saviour1 the essence of ,his teaching2 
and we may fling aside the bitter       
warnings of jealous minds1 and cast     
ourselves upon the supreme hope that1 if
 only we will return1 we are dealt with 
even more joyfully than if we had never 
wandered at all4  ,and then perhaps at  
last1 when we have peeped again and     

again1 through loss and suffering1 at   
the dark background of life2 when we    
have seen the dreariest corner of the   
lonely road1 where the path grows steep 
and miry1 and the light is veiled by    
scudding cloud and dripping rain1 there 
begins to dawn upon us the sense of a   
beautiful and holy patience1 the thought
 that these grey ashes of life1 in which
 the glowing cinders sink1 which once   
were bright with leaping flame1 are not 
the end--that the flame and glow are    
there1 although momently dispersed4     
,they have done their work2 one is      
warmed and enlivened2 one can sit still1
 feeding one's fancy on the lapsing     
embers1 just as one saw pictures in the 
fire as an eager child long ago4 ,that  
high-hearted excitement and that        
curiosity have faded4 ,life is very     
different from what we expected1 more   
wholesome1 more marvellous1 more brief1 
more inconclusive2 but there is an      
intenser1 if quieter and more patient1  
curiosity to wait and see what ,god is  

doing for us2 and the orange stain and  
green glow of the sunset1 though colder 
and less jocund1 is yet a far more      
mysterious1 tender1 and beautiful thing 
than the steady glow of the noonday sun1
 when the shining flies darted hither   
and thither1 and the roses sent out     
their rich fragrance4 ,there is         
fragrance still1 the fragrance of the   
evening flowers1 where the western      
windows look across the misty fields to 
the thickening shadows of the tall      
trees4 ,but there is something that     
speaks in the gathering gloom1 in the   
darkening sky with its flush of crimson 
fire1 that did not speak in the         
sun-warmed garden and the dancing       
leaves2 and what speaks is the          
mysterious love of ,god1 a thing sweeter
 and more remote than the urgent bliss  
of the fiery noon1 full of delicate     
mysteries and appealing echoes4 ,we have
 learnt that the darkness is no darkness
 with ,him2 and the soul which beat her 
wings so passionately in the brighter   

light of the hot morning1 now at last   
begins to dream of whither she is bound1
 and the dear shade where she will fold 
her weary wing4  ,how often has the soul
 in her dreariness cried out1 ,one      
effort more6 ,but that is done with for 
ever4 ,she is patient now2 she believes 
at last2 she labours no longer at the   
oar1 but she is borne upon the moving   
tide2 she is on her way to the deep     
,heart of ,god4     ,,epilogue   ,i have
 wandered far enough in my thought1 it  
would seem1 from the lonely grange in   
its wide pastures1 and the calm expanse 
of fen2 and ,i should wish once more to 
bring my reader back home with me to the
 sheltered garden1 and the orchard      
knee-deep in grass1 and the embowering  
elms2 for there is one word more to be  
said1 and that may be best said at home2
 though our experience is not limited by
 time or place4 ,it was on the lonely   
ridge1 strewn with boulders and swept by
 night-winds1 when the darkness closed  
in drearily about him1 that ,jacob1 a   

homeless exile1 in the hour of his      
utmost desolation1 saw the ladder whose 
golden head was set at the very foot of 
,god1 thronged with bright messengers of
 strength and hope4 ,and again it was in
 the familiar homestead1 with every     
corner rich in gentle memories1 that the
 spirit of terror turned the bitter     
stream of anguish1 as from the vent of  
some thunderous cloud1 upon the sad head
 of ,job4 ,we may turn a corner in life1
 and be confronted perhaps with an      
uncertain shape of grief and despair1   
whom we would fain banish from our      
shuddering sight1 perhaps with some     
solemn form of heavenly radiance1 whom  
we may feel reluctant in our            
unworthiness to entertain4 ,but in      
either case1 such times as those1 when  
we wrestle all night with the angel1 not
 knowing if he wishes us well or ill1   
ignorant of his name and his mien alike1
 are better than hours spent in indolent
 contentment1 in the realisation of our 
placid and petty designs4 ,for1 after   

all1 it is the quality rather than the  
quantity of our experience that matters2
 it is easy enough to recognise that1   
when we are working light-heartedly and 
eagerly at some brave design1 and seeing
 the seed we plant springing up all     
about us in fertile rows in the garden  
of ,god4 ,but what of those days when   
our lot seems only to endure1 when we   
can neither scheme nor execute1 when the
 old volubility and vitality desert us1 
and our one care is just to make our    
dreary presence as little of a burden   
and a shadow as possible to those whom  
we love8 ,we must then remind ourselves1
 not once or twice1 that nothing can    
separate us from the ,father of all1    
even though our own wilfulness and      
perversity may have drawn about us a    
cloud of sorrow4 ,we are perhaps most in
 ,god's mind when we seem most withdrawn
 from ,him4 ,he is nearer us when we    
seek for ,him and cannot find ,him1 than
 when we forget ,him in laughter and    
self-pleasing4 ,and we must remember too

 that it is neither faithful nor        
fruitful to abide wilfully in sadness1  
to clasp our cares close1 to luxuriate  
in them4 ,there is a beautiful story of 
,mrs4 ,charles ,kingsley1 who long      
survived her husband4 ,never perhaps had
 two souls been united by so close a    
bond of chivalry and devotion4 ,whenever
 ,i find myself thinking too much about 
,charles1 she said in the days of her   
grief1 ,i find and read the most        
sensational novel ,i can4 ,people may   
think it heartless1 but hearts were     
given us to love with1 not to break4    
,and we must deal with our sorrows as we
 deal with any other gift of ,god1      
courageously and temperately1 not       
faint-heartedly or wilfully2 not        
otherwise can they be blest to us4 ,we  
must not pettishly reject consolation   
and distraction4 ,pain is a great angel1
 but we must wrestle with him1 until he 
bless us6 and the blessings he can bring
 us are first a wholesome shame at our  
old selfish ingratitude in the          

untroubled days1 when we took care and  
pleasure greedily2 and next1 if we meet 
him faithfully1 he can make our heart go
 out to all our brothers and sisters who
 suffer in this brief and troubled life 
of ours4 ,for we are here to learn      
something1 if we can but spell it out2  
and thus it is morbid to indulge regrets
 and remorse too much over our failures 
and mistakes2 for it is through them    
that we learn4 ,we must be as brave as  
we can1 and dare to grudge no pang that 
brings us nearer to the reality of      
things4  ,reality6 that is the secret2  
for we who live in dreams1 who pursue   
beauty1 who are haunted as by a passion 
for that sweet quality that thrills     
alike in the wayside flower and the     
orange pomp of the setting sun1 that    
throbs in written word and uttered      
melody1 that calls to us suddenly and   
secretly in the glance of an eye and the
 gesture of a hand1--we1 ,i say1 who    
discern these gracious motions1 tend to 
live in them too luxuriously1 to        

idealise life1 to make out of our daily 
pilgrimage1 our goings and comings1 a   
golden untroubled picture2 it need not  
be a false or a base effort to escape   
from what is sordid or distasteful2 but 
for all that we run a sore risk in      
yielding too placidly to our visions2   
and as with the ,lady of ,shalott1 it   
may be well for us if our woven web be  
rent aside1 and our magic mirror broken2
 nay1 even if death comes to us at the  
close of the mournful song4 ,thus then  
we draw near and look reluctant and     
dismayed into the bare truth of things4 
,we see1 it may be1 our poor pretences  
tossed aside1 and the embroidered robe  
in which we have striven to drape our   
leanness torn from us2 but we must gaze 
as steadily as we can1 and pray that the
 vision be not withdrawn till it has    
wrought its perfect work within us2 and 
then1 with energies renewed1 we may set 
out again on pilgrimage1 happy in this1 
that we no longer mistake the arbour of 
refreshment for the goal of our journey1

 or the quiet house of welcome1 that    
receives us in the hour of weariness1   
for the heavenly city1 with all its     
bright mansions and radiant palaces4    
,it is experience that matters1 as ,i   
have said2 not what we do1 but how we do
 it4 ,the material things that we       
collect about us in our passage through 
life1 that we cling to so pathetically1 
and into which something of our very    
selves seems to pass1 these things are  
little else than snares and hindrances  
to our progress--like the clay that     
sticks to the feet of the traveller1    
like the burden of useless things that  
he carries painfully with him1 things   
which he cannot bring himself to throw  
away because they might possibly turn   
out to be useful1 and which meanwhile   
clank and clatter fruitlessly about the 
laden beast1 and weigh him down4 ,what  
we have rather to do is to disengage    
ourselves from these things3 from the   
money which we do not need1 but which   
may help us some day2 from the luxuries 

we do not enjoy2 from the furniture we  
trail about with us from home to home4  
,all those things get a hold of us and  
tie us to earth1 even when the          
associations with them are dear and     
tender enough4 ,the mistake we make is  
not in loving them--they are or can be  
signs to us of the love and care of     
,god--but we must refrain from loving   
the possession of them4  ,take1 for     
instance1 one of the least mundane of   
things1 the knowledge we painfully      
acquire1 and the possession of which    
breeds in us such lively satisfaction4  
,if it is our duty to acquire knowledge 
and to impart it1 we must acquire it2   
but it is the faithfulness with which we
 toil1 not the accumulations we gain    
that are blessed to us--knowledge comes 
but wisdom lingers1 says the poet--and  
it is the heavenly wisdom of which we   
ought to be in search2 for what remains 
to us of our equipment1 when we part    
from the world and migrate elsewhere1 is
 not the actual stuff that we have      

collected1 whether it be knowledge or   
money1 but the patience1 the diligence1 
the care which we have exercised in     
gaining these things1 the character1 as 
affected by the work we have done2 but  
our mistake is to feel that we are idle 
and futile1 unless we have tangible     
results to show2 when perhaps the hours 
in which we sat idle1 out of misery or  
mere feebleness1 are the most fruitful  
hours of all for the growth of the soul4
  ,the great savant dies4 ,what is lost8
 ,not a single fact or a single truth1  
but only his apprehension1 his          
collection of certain truths2 not a     
single law of nature perishes or is     
altered thereby4 ,we measure worth by   
prominence and fame2 but the destiny of 
the simplest and vilest of the human    
race is as august1 as momentous as the  
destiny of the mightiest king or        
conqueror2 it is not our admiration of  
each other that weighs with ,god1 but   
our nearness to1 our dependence on ,him4
 ,yet1 even so1 we must not deceive     

ourselves in the matter4 ,we must be    
sure that it is the peace of ,god that  
we indeed desire1 and not merely a      
refined kind of leisure2 that we are in 
search of simplicity1 and not merely    
afraid of work4 ,we must not glorify a  
mild spectatorial pleasure by the name  
of philosophy1 or excuse our indolence  
under the name of contemplation4 ,we    
must abstain deliberately1 not tamely   
hang back2 we must desire the ,kingdom  
of ,heaven for itself1 and not for the  
sake of the things that are added if we 
seek it4 ,if the ,scribes and ,pharisees
 have their reward for ambition and     
self-seeking1 the craven soul has its   
reward too1 and that reward is a sick   
emptiness of spirit4 ,and then if we    
have erred thus1 if we have striven to  
pretend to ourselves that we were       
careless of the prize1 when in reality  
we only feared the battle1 what can we  
do8 ,how can we repair our mistake8     
,there is but one way2 we can own the   
pitiful fault1 and not attempt to       

glorify it2 we can face the experience1 
take our petty and shameful wages and   
cast ourselves afresh1 in our           
humiliation and weakness1 upon ,god1    
rejoicing that we can at least feel the 
shame1 and enduring the chastisement    
with patient hopefulness2 for that very 
suffering is a sign that ,god has not   
left us to ourselves1 but is giving us  
perforce the purification which we could
 not take to ourselves4  ,and even thus1
 life is not all an agony1 a battle1 an 
endurance2 there are sweet hours of     
refreshment and tranquillity between the
 twilight and the dawn2 hours when we   
can rest a little in the shadow1 and see
 the brimming stream of life flowing    
quietly but surely to its appointed end4
 ,i watched to-day an old shepherd1 on a
 wide field1 moving his wattled hurdles1
 one by one1 in the slow1 golden        
afternoon2 and a whole burden of anxious
 thoughts fell off me for a while1      
leaving me full of a quiet hope for an  
end which was not yet1 but that         

certainly awaited me2 of a day when ,i  
too might perhaps move as               
unreflectingly1 as calmly1 in harmony   
with the everlasting ,will1 as the old  
man moved about his familiar task4 ,why 
that harmony should be so blurred and   
broken1 why we should leave undone the  
things that we desire to do1 and do the 
things that we do not desire1 that is   
still a deep and sad mystery2 yet even  
in the hour of our utmost wilfulness1 we
 can never wander beyond the range of   
the ,will that has made us1 and bidden  
us to be what we are4 ,and thus as ,i   
sit in this low-lit hour1 there steals  
upon the heart the message of hope and  
healing2 the scent of the great syringa 
bush leaning out into the twilight1 the 
sound of the fitful breeze laying here  
and there a caressing hand upon the     
leaves1 the soft radiance of the evening
 star hung in the green spaces of the   
western sky1 each and all blending into 
incommunicable dreams4