by ,al ,haines4            ,,from ,a    
,,college ,,window   ,by  ,,arthur      
,,christopher ,,benson    ,mens cujusque
 is est quisque    #aijf     ,,note4    
,twelve of the essays included in this  
volume appeared in the ,cornhill        
,magazine4 ,my best thanks are due to   
the proprietor and editor of the        
,cornhill ,magazine for kind permission 
and encouragement to reprint these4 ,i  
have added six further papers1 dealing  
with kindred subjects4  ,a4 ,c4 ,b4     
,,contents         ,i4  ,the ,point of  
,view      ,,ii4  ,on ,growing ,older   
,,iii4  ,books      ,,iv4               
,sociabilities       ,v4  ,conversation 
,,vi4  ,beauty     ,,vii4  ,art         
,,vii4  ,egotism      ,,ix4  ,education 
,x4  ,authorship      ,,xi4  ,the       
,criticism of ,others     ,,xii4        
,priest    ,,xiii4  ,ambition     ,,xiv4
  ,the ,simple ,life      ,,xv4  ,games 
,,xvi4  ,spiritualism    ,,xvii4        
,habits   ,,xviii4  ,religion     ,i    
,,the ,,point ,,of ,,view   ,i have     

lately come to perceive that the one    
thing which gives value to any piece of 
art1 whether it be book1 or picture1 or 
music1 is that subtle and evasive thing 
which is called personality4 ,no amount 
of labour1 of zest1 even of             
accomplishment1 can make up for the     
absence of this quality4 ,it must be an 
almost wholly instinctive thing1 ,i     
believe4 ,of course1 the mere presence  
of personality in a work of art is not  
sufficient1 because the personality     
revealed may be lacking in charm2 and   
charm1 again1 is an instinctive thing4  
,no artist can set out to capture charm2
 he will toil all the night and take    
nothing2 but what every artist can and  
must aim at1 is to have a perfectly     
sincere point of view4 ,he must take his
 chance as to whether his point of view 
is an attractive one2 but sincerity is  
the one indispensable thing4 ,it is     
useless to take opinions on trust1 to   
retail them1 to adopt them2 they must be
 formed1 created1 truly felt4 ,the work 

of a sincere artist is almost certain to
 have some value2 the work of an        
insincere artist is of its very nature  
worthless4  ,i mean to try1 in the pages
 that follow1 to be as sincere as ,i    
can4 ,it is not an easy task1 though it 
may seem so2 for it means a certain     
disentangling of the things that one has
 perceived and felt for oneself from the
 prejudices and preferences that have   
been inherited1 or stuck like burrs upon
 the soul by education and circumstance4
  ,it may be asked why ,i should thus   
obtrude my point of view in print2 why  
,i should not keep my precious          
experience to myself2 what the value of 
it is to other people4 ,well1 the answer
 to that is that it helps our sense of  
balance and proportion to know how other
 people are looking at life1 what they  
expect from it1 what they find in it1   
and what they do not find4 ,i have      
myself an intense curiosity about other 
people's point of view1 what they do    
when they are alone1 and what they think

 about4 ,edward ,fitz,gerald said that  
he wished we had more biographies of    
obscure persons4 ,how often have ,i     
myself wished to ask simple1 silent1    
deferential people1 such as             
station-masters1 butlers1 gardeners1    
what they make of it all6 ,yet one      
cannot do it1 and even if one could1 ten
 to one they would not or could not tell
 you4 ,but here is going to be a sedate 
confession4 ,i am going to take the     
world into my confidence1 and say1 if ,i
 can1 what ,i think and feel about the  
little bit of experience which ,i call  
my life1 which seems to me such a       
strange and often so bewildering a      
thing4  ,let me speak1 then1 plainly of 
what that life has been1 and tell what  
my point of view is4 ,i was brought up  
on ordinary ,english lines4 ,my father1 
in a busy life1 held a series of what   
may be called high official positions4  
,he was an idealist1 who1 owing to a    
vigorous power of practical organization
 and a mastery of detail1 was           

essentially a man of affairs4 ,yet he   
contrived to be a student too4 ,thus1   
owing to the fact that he often shifted 
his headquarters1 ,i have seen a good   
deal of general society in several parts
 of ,england4 ,moreover1 ,i was brought 
up in a distinctly intellectual         
atmosphere4  ,i was at a big public     
school1 and gained a scholarship at the 
,university4 ,i was a moderate scholar  
and a competent athlete2 but ,i will add
 that ,i had always a strong literary   
bent4 ,i took in younger days little    
interest in history or polities1 and    
tended rather to live an inner life in  
the region of friendship and the        
artistic emotions4 ,if ,i had been      
possessed of private means1 ,i should1  
no doubt1 have become a full-fledged    
dilettante4 ,but that doubtful privilege
 was denied me1 and for a good many     
years ,i lived a busy and fairly        
successful life as a master at a big    
public school4 ,i will not dwell upon   
this1 but ,i will say that ,i gained a  

great interest in the science of        
education1 and acquired profound        
misgivings as to the nature of the      
intellectual process known by the name  
of secondary education4 ,more and more  
,i began to perceive that it is         
conducted on diffuse1 detailed1         
unbusiness-like lines4 ,i tried my best1
 as far as it was consistent with       
loyalty to an established system1 to    
correct the faulty bias4 ,but it was    
with a profound relief that ,i found    
myself suddenly provided with a literary
 task of deep interest1 and enabled to  
quit my scholastic labours4 ,at the same
 time1 ,i am deeply grateful for the    
practical experience ,i was enabled to  
gain1 and even more for the many true   
and pleasant friendships with           
colleagues1 parents1 and boys that ,i   
was allowed to form4  ,what a waste of  
mental energy it is to be careful and   
troubled about one's path in life6      
,quite unexpectedly1 at this juncture1  
came my election to a college           

,fellowship1 giving me the one life that
 ,i had always eagerly desired1 and the 
possibility of which had always seemed  
closed to me4  ,i became then a member  
of a small and definite society1 with a 
few prescribed duties1 just enough1 so  
to speak1 to form a hem to my life of   
comparative leisure4 ,i had acquired and
 kept1 all through my life as a         
schoolmaster1 the habit of continuous   
literary work2 not from a sense of duty1
 but simply from instinctive pleasure4  
,i found myself at once at home in my   
small and beautiful college1 rich with  
all kinds of ancient and venerable      
traditions1 in buildings of humble and  
subtle grace4 ,the little dark-roofed   
chapel1 where ,i have a stall of my own2
 the galleried hall1 with its armorial  
glass2 the low1 book-lined library2 the 
panelled combination-room1 with its dim 
portraits of old worthies3 how sweet a  
setting for a quiet life6 ,then1 too1 ,i
 have my own spacious rooms1 with a     
peaceful outlook into a big close1 half 

orchard1 half garden1 with bird-haunted 
thickets and immemorial trees1 bounded  
by a slow river4  ,and then1 to teach me
 how to borrow life and not grow old1   
the happy tide of fresh and vigorous    
life all about me1 brisk1 confident1    
cheerful young men1 friendly1 sensible1 
amenable1 at that pleasant time when the
 world begins to open its rich pages of 
experience1 undimmed at present by      
anxiety or care4  ,my college is one of 
the smallest in the ,university4 ,last  
night in ,hall ,i sate next a           
distinguished man1 who is1 moreover1    
very accessible and pleasant4 ,he       
unfolded to me his desires for the      
,university4 ,he would like to          
amalgamate all the small colleges into  
groups1 so as to have about half-a-dozen
 colleges in all4 ,he said1 and         
evidently thought1 that little colleges 
are woefully circumscribed and petty    
places2 that most of the better men go  
to the two or three leading colleges1   
while the little establishments are like

 small backwaters out of the main       
stream4 ,they elect1 he said1 their own 
men to ,fellowships2 they resist        
improvements2 much money is wasted in   
management1 and the whole thing is      
minute and feeble4 ,i am afraid it is   
true in a way2 but1 on the other hand1  
,i think that a large college has its   
defects too4 ,there is no real college  
spirit there2 it is very nice for two or
 three sets4 ,but the different schools 
which supply a big college form each its
 own set there2 and if a man goes there 
from a leading public school1 he falls  
into his respective set1 lives under the
 traditions and in the gossip of his old
 school1 and gets to know hardly any one
 from other schools4 ,then the men who  
come up from smaller places just form   
small inferior sets of their own1 and   
really get very little good out of the  
place4 ,big colleges keep up their      
prestige because the best men tend to go
 to them2 but ,i think they do very     
little for the ordinary men who have    

fewer social advantages to start with4  
,the only cure1 said my friend1 for     
these smaller places is to throw their  
,fellowships open1 and try to get       
public-spirited and liberal-minded      
,dons4 ,then1 he added1 they ought to   
specialize in some one branch of        
,university teaching1 so that the men   
who belonged to a particular department 
would tend to go there4  ,well1 to-day  
was a wet day1 so ,i did what ,i        
particularly enjoy--,i went off for a   
slow stroll1 and poked about among some 
of the smaller colleges4 ,i declare that
 the idea of tying them all together    
seemed to me to be a horrible piece of  
vandalism4 ,these sweet and gentle      
little places1 with a quiet1 dignified  
history and tradition of their own1 are 
very attractive and beautiful4 ,i went  
and explored a little college ,i am     
ashamed to say ,i had never visited     
before4 ,it shows a poor plastered front
 to the street1 but the old place is    
there behind the plaster4 ,i went into a

 tiny1 dark chapel1 with a high pillared
 pediment of carved wood behind the     
altar1 a rich ceiling1 and some fine    
columned alcoves where the dignitaries  
sit4 ,out of the gallery opens a        
venerable library1 with a regretful air 
of the past about its faded volumes in  
their high presses1 as though it sadly  
said1 ,i am of yesterday4 ,then we found
 ourselves in a spacious panelled ,hall1
 with a great oriel looking out into a  
peaceful garden1 embowered in great     
trees1 with smiling lawns4 ,all round   
the ,hall hung portraits of old         
worthies--peers1 judges1 and bishops1   
with some rubicund wigged ,masters4 ,i  
like to think of the obscure and yet    
dignified lives that have been lived in 
these quaint and stately chambers4 ,i   
suppose that there used to be a great   
deal of tippling and low gossip in the  
old days of the vinous1 idle ,fellows1  
who hung on for life1 forgetting their  
books1 and just trying to dissipate     
boredom4 ,one tends to think that it was

 all like that2 and yet1 doubtless1     
there were quiet lives of study and     
meditation led here by wise and simple  
men who have long since mouldered into  
dust4 ,and all that dull rioting is     
happily over4 ,the whole place is full  
of activity and happiness4 ,there is1 if
 anything1 among the ,dons1 too much    
business1 too many meetings1 too much   
teaching1 and the life of mere study is 
neglected4 ,but it pleases me to think  
that even now there are men who live    
quietly among their books1 unambitious1 
perhaps unproductive1 but forgetting the
 flight of time1 and looking out into a 
pleasant garden1 with its rustling      
trees1 among the sound of mellow bells4 
,we are1 most of us1 too much in a fuss 
nowadays to live these gentle1 innocent1
 and beautiful lives2 and yet the       
,university is a place where a poor man1
 if he be virtuous1 may lead a life of  
dignity and simplicity1 and refined     
happiness4 ,we make the mistake of      
thinking that all can be done by        

precept1 when1 as a matter of fact1     
example is no less potent a force4 ,to  
make such quiet lives possible was to a 
great extent what these stately and     
beautiful places were founded for--that 
there should be in the busy world a     
corner where activities should not be so
 urgent1 and where life should pass like
 an old dream1 tinged with delicate     
colour and soft sound4 ,i declare ,i do 
not know that it is more virtuous to be 
a clerk in a bank1 toiling day by day   
that others should be rich1 than to live
 in thought and meditation1 with a heart
 open to sweet influences and pure      
hopes4 ,and yet it seems to be held     
nowadays that virtue is bound up with   
practical life4 ,if a man is content to 
abjure wealth and to forego marriage1 to
 live simply without luxuries1 he may   
spend a very dignified1 gentle life     
here1 and at the same time he may be    
really useful4 ,it is a thing which is  
well worth doing to attempt the         
reconciliation between the old and the  

young4 ,boys come up here under the     
impression that their pastors and       
teachers are all about fifty2 they think
 of them as sensible1 narrow-minded men1
 and1 like ,melchizedek1 without        
beginning of days or end of life4 ,they 
suppose that they like marking mistakes 
in exercises with blue pencil1 and take 
delight in showing their power by       
setting punishments4 ,it does not often 
occur to them that schoolmasters may be 
pathetically anxious to guide boys      
right1 and to guard them from evil4     
,they think of them as devoid of        
passions and prejudices1 with a little  
dreary space to traverse before they    
sink into the tomb4 ,even in homes1 how 
seldom does a perfectly simple human    
relation exist between a boy and his    
father6 ,there is often a great deal of 
affection on both sides1 but little     
camaraderie4 ,little boys are odd1      
tiresome creatures in many ways1 with   
savage instincts2 and ,i suppose many   
fathers feel that1 if they are to       

maintain their authority1 they must be a
 little distant and inscrutable4 ,a boy 
goes for sympathy and companionship to  
his mother and sisters1 not often to his
 father4 ,now a ,don may do something to
 put this straight1 if he has the will4 
,one of the best friends ,i ever had was
 an elderly ,don at my own college1 who 
had been a contemporary of my father's4 
,he liked young men2 and ,i used to     
consult him and ask his advice in things
 in which ,i could not well consult my  
own contemporaries4 ,it is not necessary
 to be extravagantly youthful1 to slap  
people on the back1 to run with the     
college boat1 though that is very       
pleasant if it is done naturally4 ,all  
that is wanted is to be accessible and  
quietly genial4 ,and under such         
influences a young man may1 without     
becoming elderly1 get to understand the 
older point of view4  ,the difficulty is
 that one acquires habits and           
mannerisms2 one is crusty and gruff if  
interfered with4 ,but1 as ,pater said1  

to acquire habits is failure in life4   
,of course1 one must realize            
limitations1 and learn in what regions  
one can be effective4 ,but no one need  
be case-hardened1 smoke-dried1 angular4 
,the worst of a ,university is that one 
sees men lingering on because they must 
earn a living1 and there is nothing else
 that they can do2 but for a            
human-hearted1 good-humoured1 and       
sensible man1 a college life is a life  
where it is easy and pleasant to        
practise benevolence and kindliness1 and
 where a small investment of trouble    
pays a large percentage of happiness4   
,indeed1 surveying it impartially--as   
impartially as ,i can--such a life seems
 to hold within it perhaps the greatest 
possibilities of happiness that life can
 hold4 ,to have leisure and a degree of 
simple stateliness assured2 to live in a
 wholesome dignity2 to have the society 
of the young and generous2 to have      
lively and intelligent talk2 to have the
 choice of society and solitude alike2  

to have one's working hours respected1  
and one's leisure hours solaced--is not 
this better than to drift into the      
so-called tide of professional success1 
with its dreary hours of work1 its      
conventional domestic background8 ,no   
doubt the domestic background has its   
interests1 its delights2 but one must   
pay a price for everything1 and ,i am   
more than willing to pay the price of   
celibacy for my independence4  ,the     
elderly ,don in college rooms1          
interested in ,greek particles1         
grumbling over his port wine1 is a      
figure beloved by writers of fiction as 
a contrast to all that is brave1 and    
bright1 and wholesome in life4 ,could   
there be a more hopeless misconception8 
,i do not know a single extant example  
of the species at the ,university4      
,personally1 ,i have no love for ,greek 
particles1 and only a very moderate     
taste for port wine4 ,but ,i do love1   
with all my heart1 the grace of         
antiquity that mellows our crumbling    

courts1 the old tradition of            
multifarious humanity that has century  
by century entwined itself with the very
 fabric of the place4 ,i love the       
youthful spirit that flashes and        
brightens in every corner of the old    
courts1 as the wallflower that rises    
spring by spring with its rich          
orange-tawny hue1 its wild scent1 on the
 tops of our mouldering walls4 ,it is a 
gracious and beautiful life for all who 
love peace and reflection1 strength and 
youth4 ,it is not a life for fiery and  
dominant natures1 eager to conquer1 keen
 to impress2 but it is a life for any   
one who believes that the best rewards  
are not the brightest1 who is willing   
humbly to lend a cheerful hand1 to      
listen as well as to speak4 ,it is a    
life for any one who has found that     
there is a world of tender1 wistful1    
delicate emotions1 subdued and soft     
impressions1 in which it is peace to    
live2 for one who has learned1 however  
dimly1 that wise and faithful love1     

quiet and patient hope1 are the bread by
 which the spirit is nourished--that    
religion is not an intellectual or even 
an ecclesiastical thing1 but a far-off  
and remote vision of the soul4  ,i know 
well the thoughts and hopes that ,i     
should desire to speak2 but they are    
evasive1 subtle things1 and too often1  
like shy birds1 will hardly let you     
approach them4 ,but ,i would add that   
life has not been for me a dreamy thing1
 lived in soft fantastic reveries2      
indeed1 it has been far the reverse4 ,i 
have practised activity1 ,i have mixed  
much with my fellows2 ,i have taught1   
worked1 organized1 directed4 ,i have    
watched men and boys2 ,i have found     
infinite food for mirth1 for interest1  
and even for grief4 ,but ,i have grown  
to feel that the ambitions which we     
preach and the successes for which we   
prepare are very often nothing but a    
missing of the simple road1 a troubled  
wandering among thorny by-paths and dark
 mountains4 ,i have grown to believe    

that the one thing worth aiming at is   
simplicity of heart and life2 that one's
 relations with others should be direct 
and not diplomatic2 that power leaves a 
bitter taste in the mouth2 that         
meanness1 and hardness1 and coldness are
 the unforgivable sins2 that            
conventionality is the mother of        
dreariness2 that pleasure exists not in 
virtue of material conditions1 but in   
the joyful heart2 that the world is a   
very interesting and beautiful place2   
that congenial labour is the secret of  
happiness2 and many other things which  
seem1 as ,i write them down1 to be dull 
and trite commonplaces1 but are for me  
the bright jewels which ,i have found   
beside the way4  ,it is1 then1 from     
,college ,windows that ,i look forth4   
,but even so1 though on the one hand ,i 
look upon the green and sheltered       
garden1 with its air of secluded        
recollection and repose1 a place of     
quiet pacing to and fro1 of sober and   
joyful musing2 yet on another side ,i   

see the court1 with all its fresh and   
shifting life1 its swift interchange of 
study and activity2 and on yet another  
side ,i can observe the street where the
 infinite pageant of humanity goes to   
and fro1 a tide full of sound and foam1 
of business and laughter1 and of sorrow 
too1 and sickness1 and the funeral pomp 
of death4  ,this1 then1 is my point of  
view4 ,i can truthfully say that it is  
not gloomy1 and equally that it is not  
uproarious4 ,i can boast of no deep     
philosophy1 for ,i feel1 like ,dr4      
,johnson's simple friend ,edwards1 that 
,i have tried1 too1 in my time1 to be a 
philosopher1 but--,i don't know         
how--cheerfulness was always breaking   
in4 ,neither is it the point of view of 
a profound and erudite student1 with a  
deep belief in the efficacy of useless  
knowledge4 ,neither am ,i a humorist1   
for ,i have loved beauty better than    
laughter2 nor a sentimentalist1 for ,i  
have abhorred a weak dalliance with     
personal emotions4 ,it is hard1 then1 to

 say what ,i am2 but it is my hope that 
this may emerge4 ,my desire is but to   
converse with my readers1 to speak as in
 a comfortable tete-a-tete1 of          
experience1 and hope1 and patience4 ,i  
have no wish to disguise the hard and   
ugly things of life2 they are there1    
whether one disguises them or not2 but  
,i think that unless one is a professed 
psychologist or statistician1 one gets  
little good by dwelling upon them4 ,i   
have always believed that it is better  
to stimulate than to correct1 to fortify
 rather than to punish1 to help rather  
than to blame4 ,if there is one attitude
 that ,i fear and hate more than another
 it is the attitude of the cynic4 ,i    
believe with all my soul in romance3    
that is1 in a certain high-hearted1     
eager dealing with life4 ,i think that  
one ought to expect to find things      
beautiful and people interesting1 not to
 take delight in detecting meannesses   
and failures4 ,and there is yet another 
class of temperament for which ,i have a

 deep detestation4 ,i mean the assured1 
the positive1 the ,pharisaical temper1  
that believes itself to be impregnably  
in the right and its opponents          
indubitably in the wrong2 the people who
 deal in axioms and certainties1 who    
think that compromise is weak and       
originality vulgar4 ,i detest authority 
in every form2 ,i am a sincere          
republican4 ,in literature1 in art1 in  
life1 ,i think that the only conclusions
 worth coming to are one's own          
conclusions4 ,if they march with the    
verdict of the connoisseurs1 so much the
 better for the connoisseurs2 if they do
 not so march1 so much the better for   
oneself4 ,every one cannot admire and   
love everything2 but let a man look at  
things fairly and without prejudice1 and
 make his own selection1 holding to it  
firmly1 but not endeavouring to impose  
his taste upon others2 defending1 if    
needs be1 his preferences1 but making no
 claim to authority4  ,the time of my   
life that ,i consider to have been      

wasted1 from the intellectual point of  
view1 was the time when ,i tried1 in a  
spirit of dumb loyalty1 to admire all   
the things that were said to be         
admirable4 ,better spent was the time   
when ,i was finding out that much that  
had received the stamp of the world's   
approval was not to be approved1 at     
least by me2 best of all was the time   
when ,i was learning to appraise the    
value of things to myself1 and learning 
to love them for their own sake and     
mine4  ,respect of a deferential and    
constitutional type is out of place in  
art and literature4 ,it is a good enough
 guide to begin one's pilgrimage with1  
if one soon parts company from it4      
,rather one must learn to give honour   
where honour is due1 to bow down in true
 reverence before all spirits that are  
noble and adorable1 whether they wear   
crowns and bear titles of honour1 or    
whether they are simple and unnoted     
persons1 who wear no gold on their      
garments4  ,sincerity and simplicity6 if

 ,i could only say how ,i reverence     
them1 how ,i desire to mould my life in 
accordance with them6 ,and ,i would     
learn1 too1 swiftly to detect the living
 spirits1 whether they be young or old1 
in which these great qualities reign4   
,for ,i believe that there is in life a 
great and guarded city1 of which we may 
be worthy to be citizens4 ,we may1 if we
 are blest1 be always of the happy      
number1 by some kindly gift of ,god2 but
 we may also1 through misadventure and  
pain1 through errors and blunders1 learn
 the way thither4 ,and sometimes we     
discern the city afar off1 with her     
radiant spires and towers1 her walls of 
strength1 her gates of pearl2 and there 
may come a day1 too1 when we have found 
the way thither1 and enter in2 happy if 
we go no more out1 but happy1 too1 even 
if we may not rest there1 because we    
know that1 however far we wander1 there 
is always a hearth for us and welcoming 
smiles4  ,i speak in a parable1 but     
those who are finding the way will      

understand me1 however dimly2 and those 
who have found the way1 and seen a      
little of the glory of the place1 will  
smile at the page and say3 ,so he1 too1 
is of the city4  ,the city is known by  
many names1 and wears different aspects 
to different hearts4 ,but one thing is  
certain--that no one who has entered    
there is ever in any doubt again4 ,he   
may wander far from the walls1 he may   
visit it but rarely1 but it stands there
 in peace and glory1 the one true and   
real thing for him in mortal time and in
 whatever lies beyond4     ,,ii  ,,on   
,,growing ,,older   ,the sun flares red 
behind leafless elms and battlemented   
towers as ,i come in from a lonely walk 
beside the river2 above the chimney-tops
 hangs a thin veil of drifting smoke1   
blue in the golden light4 ,the games in 
the ,common are just coming to an end2 a
 stream of long-coated spectators sets  
towards the town1 mingled with the      
parti-coloured1 muddied figures of the  
players4 ,i have been strolling half the

 afternoon along the river bank1        
watching the boats passing up and down2 
hearing the shrill cries of coxes1 the  
measured plash of oars1 the rhythmical  
rattle of rowlocks1 intermingled at     
intervals with the harsh grinding of the
 chain-ferries4 ,five-and-twenty years  
ago ,i was rowing here myself in one of 
these boats1 and ,i do not wish to renew
 the experience4 ,i cannot conceive why 
and in what moment of feeble good-nature
 or misapplied patriotism ,i ever       
consented to lend a hand4 ,i was not a  
good oar1 and did not become a better   
one2 ,i had no illusions about my       
performance1 and any momentary          
complacency was generally sternly       
dispelled by the harsh criticism of the 
coach on the bank1 when we rested for a 
moment to receive our meed of praise or 
blame4 ,but though ,i have no sort of   
wish to repeat the process1 to renew the
 slavery which ,i found frankly and     
consistently intolerable1 ,i find myself
 looking on at the cheerful scene with  

an amusement in which mingles a shadow  
of pain1 because ,i feel that ,i have   
parted with something1 a certain        
buoyancy and elasticity of body1 and    
perhaps spirit1 of which ,i was not     
conscious at the time1 but which ,i now 
realize that ,i must have possessed4 ,it
 is with an admiration mingled with envy
 that ,i see these youthful1 shapely    
figures1 bare-necked and bare-kneed1    
swinging rhythmically past4 ,i watch a  
brisk crew lift a boat out of the water 
by a boat-house2 half of them duck      
underneath to get hold of the other     
side1 and they march up the grating     
gravel in a solemn procession4 ,i see a 
pair of cheerful young men1 released    
from tubbing1 execute a wild and        
inconsequent dance upon the water's     
edge2 ,i see a solemn conference of deep
 import between a stroke and a coach4 ,i
 see a neat1 clean-limbed young man go  
airily up to a well-earned tea1 without1
 ,i hope1 a care1 or an anxiety in his  
mind1 expecting and intending to spend  

an agreeable evening4 ,oh1 ,jones of    
,trinity1 oh1 ,smith of ,queen's1 ,i    
think to myself1 tua si bona noris6     
,make the best of the good time1 my boy1
 before you go off to the office1 or the
 fourth-form room1 or the country       
parish6 ,live virtuously1 make honest   
friends1 read the good old books1 lay up
 a store of kindly recollections1 of    
firelit rooms in venerable courts1 of   
pleasant talks1 of innocent festivities4
 ,very fresh is the cool morning air1   
very fragrant is the newly-lighted      
bird's-eye1 very lively is the clink of 
knives and forks1 very keen is the      
savour of the roast beef that floats up 
to the dark rafters of the ,college     
,hall4 ,but the days are short and the  
terms are few2 and do not forget to be a
 sensible as well as a good-humoured    
young man6  ,thackeray1 in a delightful 
ballad1 invites a pretty page to wait   
till he comes to forty years3 well1 ,i  
have waited--indeed1 ,i have somewhat   
overshot the mark--and to-day the sight 

of all this brisk life1 going on just as
 it used to do1 with the same           
insouciance and the same merriment1     
makes me wish to reflect1 to gather up  
the fragments1 to see if it is all loss1
 all declension1 or whether there is    
something left1 some strength in what   
remains behind4  ,i have a theory that  
one ought to grow older in a tranquil   
and appropriate way1 that one ought to  
be perfectly contented with one's time  
of life1 that amusements and pursuits   
ought to alter naturally and easily1 and
 not be regretfully abandoned4 ,one     
ought not to be dragged protesting from 
the scene1 catching desperately at every
 doorway and balustrade2 one should walk
 off smiling4 ,it is easier said than   
done4 ,it is not a pleasant moment when 
a man first recognizes that he is out of
 place in the football field1 that he   
cannot stoop with the old agility to    
pick up a skimming stroke to            
cover-point1 that dancing is rather too 
heating to be decorous1 that he cannot  

walk all day without undue somnolence   
after dinner1 or rush off after a heavy 
meal without indigestion4 ,these are sad
 moments which we all of us reach1 but  
which are better laughed over than      
fretted over4 ,and a man who1 out of    
sheer inability to part from boyhood1   
clings desperately and with apoplectic  
puffings to these things is an          
essentially grotesque figure4 ,to listen
 to young men discussing one of these my
 belated contemporaries1 and to hear one
 enforcing on another the amusement to  
be gained from watching the old buffer's
 manoeuvres1 is a lesson against undue  
youthfulness4 ,one can indeed give      
amusement without loss of dignity1 by   
being open to being induced to join in  
such things occasionally in an elderly  
way1 without any attempt to disguise    
deficiencies4 ,but that is the most that
 ought to be attempted4 ,perhaps the    
best way of all is to subside into the  
genial and interested looker-on1 to be  
ready to applaud the game you cannot    

play1 and to admire the dexterity you   
cannot rival4  ,what then1 if any1 are  
the gains that make up for the lack of  
youthful prowess8 ,they are1 ,i can     
contentedly say1 many and great4 ,in the
 first place1 there is the loss of a    
quality which is productive of an       
extraordinary amount of pain among the  
young1 the quality of                   
self-consciousness4 ,how often was one's
 peace of mind ruined by gaucherie1 by  
shyness1 by the painful consciousness of
 having nothing to say1 and the still   
more painful consciousness of having    
said the wrong thing in the wrong way6  
,of course1 it was all immensely        
exaggerated4 ,if one went into chapel1  
for instance1 with a straw hat1 which   
one had forgotten to remove1 over a     
surplice1 one had the feeling for       
several days that it was written in     
letters of fire on every wall4 ,i was   
myself an ardent conversationalist in   
early years1 and1 with the charming     
omniscience of youth1 fancied that my   

opinion was far better worth having than
 the opinions of ,dons encrusted with   
pedantry and prejudice4 ,but if ,i found
 myself in the society of these         
petrified persons1 by the time that ,i  
had composed a suitable remark1 the     
slender opening had already closed1 and 
my contribution was either not uttered  
at all1 or hopelessly belated in its    
appearance4 ,or some deep generalization
 drawn from the dark backward of my vast
 experience would be produced1 and      
either ruthlessly ignored or            
contemptuously corrected by some        
unsympathetic elder of unyielding voice 
and formed opinions4 ,and then there was
 the crushing sense1 at the conclusion  
of one of these interviews1 of having   
been put down as a tiresome and heavy   
young man4 ,i fully believed in my own  
liveliness and sprightliness1 but it    
seemed an impossible task to persuade my
 elders that these qualities were there4
 ,a good-natured1 elderly friend used at
 times to rally me upon my shyness1 and 

say that it all came from thinking too  
much about myself4 ,it was as useless as
 if one told a man with a toothache that
 it was mere self-absorption that made  
him suffer4 ,for ,i have no doubt that  
the disease of self-consciousness is    
incident to intelligent youth4 ,marie   
,bashkirtseff1 in the terrible          
self-revealing journals which she wrote1
 describes a visit that she paid to some
 one who had expressed an interest in   
her and a desire to see her4 ,she says  
that as she passed the threshold of the 
room she breathed a prayer1 ,o ,god1    
make me worth seeing6 ,how often used   
one to desire to make an impression1 to 
make oneself felt and appreciated6      
,well1 all that uneasy craving has left 
me4 ,i no longer have any particular    
desire for or expectation of being      
impressive4 ,one likes1 of course1 to   
feel fresh and lively2 but whereas in   
the old days ,i used to enter a circle  
with the intention of endeavouring to be
 felt1 of giving pleasure and interest1 

,i now go in the humble hope of         
receiving either4 ,the result is that1  
having got rid to a great extent of this
 pompous and self-regarding attitude of 
mind1 ,i not only find myself more at   
ease1 but ,i also find other people     
infinitely more interesting4 ,instead of
 laying one's frigate alongside of      
another craft with the intention of     
conducting a boarding expedition1 one   
pays a genial visit by means of the     
long-boat with all the circumstance of  
courtesy and amiability4 instead of     
desiring to make conquests1 ,i am glad  
enough to be tolerated4 ,i dare1 too1 to
 say what ,i think1 not alert for any   
symptoms of contradiction1 but fully    
aware that my own point of view is but  
one of many1 and quite prepared to      
revise it4 ,in the old days ,i demanded 
agreement2 ,i am now amused by          
divergence4 ,in the old days ,i desired 
to convince2 ,i am now only too thankful
 to be convinced of error and ignorance4
 ,i now no longer shrink from saying    

that ,i know nothing of a subject2 in   
old days ,i used to make a pretence of  
omniscience1 and had to submit irritably
 to being tamely unmasked4 ,it seems to 
me that ,i must have been an unpleasant 
young man enough1 but ,i humbly hope    
that ,i was not so disagreeable as might
 appear4  ,another privilege of         
advancing years is the decreasing       
tyranny of convention4 ,i used to desire
 to do the right thing1 to know the     
right people1 to play the right games4  
,i did not reflect whether it was worth 
the sacrifice of personal interest2 it  
was all-important to be in the swim4    
,very gradually ,i discovered that other
 people troubled their heads very little
 about what one did2 that the right     
people were often the most tiresome and 
the most conventional1 and that the only
 games which were worth playing were the
 games which one enjoyed4 ,i used to    
undergo miseries in staying at          
uncongenial houses1 in accepting        
shooting invitations when ,i could not  

shoot1 in going to dances because the   
people whom ,i knew were going4 ,of     
course one has plenty of disagreeable   
duties to perform in any case2 but ,i   
discovered gradually that to adopt the  
principle of doing disagreeable things  
which were supposed to be amusing and   
agreeable was to misunderstand the whole
 situation4 ,now1 if ,i am asked to stay
 at a tiresome house1 ,i refuse2 ,i     
decline invitations to garden parties   
and public dinners and dances1 because  
,i know that they will bore me2 and as  
to games1 ,i never play them if ,i can  
help1 because ,i find that they do not  
entertain me4 ,of course there are      
occasions when one is wanted to fill a  
gap1 and then it is the duty of a       
,christian and a gentleman to conform1  
and to do it with a good grace4 ,again1 
,i am not at the mercy of small         
prejudices1 as ,i used to be4 ,as a     
young man1 if ,i disliked the cut of a  
person's whiskers or the fashion of his 
clothes1 if ,i considered his manner to 

be abrupt or unpleasing1 if ,i was not  
interested in his subjects1 ,i set him  
down as an impossible person1 and made  
no further attempt to form acquaintance4
  ,now ,i know that these are           
superficial things1 and that a kind     
heart and an interesting personality are
 not inconsistent with boots of a       
grotesque shape and even with           
mutton-chop whiskers4 ,in fact1 ,i think
 that small oddities and differences    
have grown to have a distinct value1 and
 form a pleasing variety4 ,if a person's
 manner is unattractive1 ,i often find  
that it is nothing more than a shyness  
or an awkwardness which disappears the  
moment that familiarity is established4 
,my standard is1 in fact1 lower1 and ,i 
am more tolerant4 ,i am not1 ,i confess1
 wholly tolerant1 but my intolerance is 
reserved for qualities and not for      
externals4 ,i still fly swiftly from    
long-winded1 pompous1 and contemptuous  
persons2 but if their company is        
unavoidable1 ,i have at least learnt to 

hold my tongue4 ,the other day ,i was at
 a country-house where an old and       
extremely tiresome ,general laid down   
the law on the subject of the ,mutiny1  
where he had fought as a youthful       
subaltern4 ,i was pretty sure that he   
was making the most grotesque           
misstatements1 but ,i was not in a      
position to contradict them4 ,next the  
,general was a courteous1 weary old     
gentleman1 who sate with his finger-tips
 pressed together1 smiling and nodding  
at intervals4 ,half-an-hour later we    
were lighting our candles4 ,the ,general
 strode fiercely up to bed1 leaving a   
company of yawning and dispirited men   
behind4 ,the old gentleman came up to me
 and1 as he took a light1 said with an  
inclination of his head in the direction
 of the parting figure1 ,the poor       
,general is a good deal misinformed4 ,i 
didn't choose to say anything1 but ,i   
know something about the subject1       
because ,i was private secretary to the 
,secretary for ,war4  ,that was the     

right attitude1 ,i thought1 for the     
gentlemanly philosopher2 and ,i have    
learnt from my old friend the lesson not
 to choose to say anything if a         
turbulent and pompous person lays down  
the law on subjects with which ,i happen
 to be acquainted4  ,again1 there is    
another gain that results from advancing
 years4 ,i think it is true that there  
were sharper ecstasies in youth1 keener 
perceptions1 more passionate thrills2   
but then the mind also dipped more      
swiftly and helplessly into             
discouragement1 dreariness1 and despair4
 ,i do not think that life is so        
rapturous1 but it certainly is vastly   
more interesting4 ,when ,i was young    
there were an abundance of things about 
which ,i did not care4 ,i was all for   
poetry and art2 ,i found history        
tedious1 science tiresome1 politics     
insupportable4 ,now ,i may thankfully   
say it is wholly different4 ,the time of
 youth was the opening to me of many    
doors of life4 ,sometimes a door opened 

upon a mysterious and wonderful place1  
an enchanted forest1 a solemn avenue1 a 
sleeping glade2 often1 too1 it opened   
into some dusty work-a-day place1 full  
of busy forms bent over intolerable     
tasks1 whizzing wheels1 dark gleaming   
machinery1 the din of the factory and   
the workshop4 ,sometimes1 too1 a door   
would open into a bare and melancholy   
place1 a hillside strewn with stones1 an
 interminable plain of sand2 worst of   
all1 a place would sometimes be revealed
 which was full of suffering1 anguish1  
and hopeless woe1 shadowed with fears   
and sins4 ,from such prospects ,i turned
 with groans unutterable2 but the air of
 the accursed place would hang about me 
for days4 ,these surprises1 these       
strange surmises1 crowded in fast upon  
me4 ,how different the world was from   
what the careless forecast of boyhood   
had pictured it6 ,how strange1 how      
beautiful1 and yet how terrible6 ,as    
life went on the beauty increased1 and a
 calmer1 quieter beauty made itself     

revealed2 in youth ,i looked for        
strange1 impressive1 haunted beauties1  
things that might deeply stir and move2 
but year by year a simpler1 sweeter1    
healthier kind of beauty made itself    
felt2 such beauty as lies on the bare1  
lightly washed1 faintly tinted hillside 
of winter1 all delicate greens and      
browns1 so far removed from the rich    
summer luxuriance1 and yet so austere1  
so pure4 ,i grew to love different books
 too4 ,in youth one demanded a generous 
glow1 a fire of passion1 a strongly     
tinged current of emotion2 but by       
degrees came the love of sober1 subdued 
reflection1 a cooler world in which1 if 
one could not rest1 one might at least  
travel equably and gladly1 with a far   
wider range of experience1 a larger1 if 
a fainter1 hope4 ,i grew to demand less 
of the world1 less of ,nature1 less of  
people2 and1 behold1 a whole range of   
subtler and gentler emotions came into  
sight1 like the blue hills of the       
distance1 pure and low4 ,the whole      

movement of the world1 past and present1
 became intelligible and clear4 ,i saw  
the humanity that lies behind political 
and constitutional questions1 the       
strong1 simple forces that move like a  
steady stream behind the froth and foam 
of personality4 ,if in youth ,i believed
 that personality and influence could   
sway and mould the world1 in later years
 ,i have come to see that the strongest 
and fiercest characters are only the    
river-wrack1 the broken boughs1 the torn
 grasses that whirl and spin in the     
tongue of the creeping flood1 and that  
there is a dim resistless force behind  
them that marches on unheeding and      
drives them in the forefront of the     
inundation4 ,things that had seemed     
drearily theoretical1 dry1 axiomatic1   
platitudinal1 showed themselves to be   
great generalizations from a torrent of 
human effort and mortal endeavour4 ,and 
thus all the mass of detail and human   
relation that had been rudely set aside 
by the insolent prejudices of youth     

under the generic name of business1 came
 slowly to have an intense and living   
significance4 ,i cannot trace the       
process in detail2 but ,i became aware  
of the fulness1 the energy1 the         
matchless interest of the world1 and the
 vitality of a hundred thoughts that had
 seemed to me the dreariest             
abstractions4  ,then1 too1 the greatest 
gain of all1 there comes a sort of      
patience4 ,in youth mistakes seemed     
irreparable1 calamities intolerable1    
ambitions realizable1 disappointments   
unbearable4 ,an anxiety hung like a dark
 impenetrable cloud1 a disappointment   
poisoned the springs of life4 ,but now  
,i have learned that mistakes can often 
be set right1 that anxieties fade1 that 
calamities have sometimes a compensating
 joy1 that an ambition realized is not  
always pleasurable1 that a              
disappointment is often of itself a     
great incentive to try again4 ,one      
learns to look over troubles1 instead of
 looking into them2 one learns that hope

 is more unconquerable than grief4 ,and 
so there flows into the gap the         
certainty that one can make more of     
misadventures1 of unpromising people1 of
 painful experiences1 than one had ever 
hoped4 ,it may not be1 nay1 it is not1  
so eager1 so full-blooded a spirit2 but 
it is a serener1 a more interesting1 a  
happier outlook4  ,and so1 like         
,robinson ,crusoe on his island1        
striking a balance of my advantages and 
disadvantages1 ,i am inclined to think  
that the good points predominate4 ,of   
course there still remains the intensely
 human instinct1 which survives all the 
lectures of moralists1 the desire to eat
 one's cake and also to have it4 ,one   
wants to keep the gains of middle life  
and not to part with the glow of youth4 
,the tragedy of growing old1 says a     
brilliant writer1 is the remaining      
young2 that is to say1 that the spirit  
does not age as fast as the body4 ,the  
sorrows of life lie in the imagination1 
in the power to recall the good days    

that have been and the old sprightly    
feelings2 and in the power1 too1 to     
forecast the slow overshadowing and     
decay of age4 ,but ,lord ,beaconsfield  
once said that the worst evil one has to
 endure is the anticipation of the      
calamities that do not happen2 and ,i am
 sure that the thing to aim at is to    
live as far as possible in the day and  
for the day4 ,i do not mean in an       
epicurean fashion1 by taking prodigally 
all the pleasure that one can get1 like 
a spendthrift of the happiness that is  
meant to last a lifetime1 but in the    
spirit of ,newman's hymn--              
,i do not ask to see     ,the distant   
scene2 one step enough for me4   ,even  
now ,i find that ,i am gaining a certain
 power1 instinctively1 ,i suppose1 in   
making the most of the day and hour4 ,in
 old days1 if ,i had a disagreeable     
engagement ahead of me1 something to    
which ,i looked forward with anxiety or 
dislike1 ,i used to find that it        
poisoned my cup4 ,now it is beginning to

 be the other way2 and ,i find myself   
with a heightened sense of pleasure in  
the quiet and peaceful days that have to
 intervene before the fateful morning   
dawns4 ,i used to awake in the morning  
on the days that were still my own      
before the day which ,i dreaded1 and    
begin1 in that agitated mood which used 
to accompany the return of consciousness
 after sleep1 when the mind is alert but
 unbalanced1 to anticipate the thing ,i 
feared1 and feel that ,i could not face 
it4 ,now ,i tend to awake and say to    
myself1 ,well1 at any rate ,i have still
 to-day in my own hands2 and then the   
very day itself has an increased value  
from the feeling that the uncomfortable 
experience lies ahead4 ,i suppose that  
is the secret of the placid enjoyment   
which the very old so often display4    
,they seem so near the dark gate1 and   
yet so entirely indifferent to the      
thought of it2 so absorbed in little    
leisurely trifles1 happy with a         
childlike happiness4  ,and thus ,i went 

slowly back to ,college in that         
gathering gloom that seldom fails to    
bring a certain peace to the mind4 ,the 
porter sate1 with his feet on the       
fender1 in his comfortable den1 reading 
a paper4 ,the lights were beginning to  
appear in the court1 and the firelight  
flickered briskly upon walls hung with  
all the pleasant signs of youthful life1
 the groups1 the family photographs1 the
 suspended oar1 the cap of glory4 ,so   
when ,i entered my book-lined rooms1 and
 heard the kettle sing its comfortable  
song on the hearth1 and reflected that  
,i had a few letters to write1 an       
interesting book to turn over1 a        
pleasant ,hall dinner to look forward   
to1 and that1 after a space of talk1 an 
undergraduate or two were coming to talk
 over a leisurely piece of work1 an     
essay or a paper1 ,i was more than ever 
inclined to acquiesce in my             
disabilities1 to purr like an elderly   
cat1 and to feel that while ,i had the  
priceless boon of leisure1 set in a     

framework of small duties1 there was    
much to be said for life1 and that ,i   
was a poor creature if ,i could not be  
soberly content4  ,of course ,i know    
that ,i have missed the nearer ties of  
life1 the hearth1 the home1 the         
companionship of a wife1 the joys and   
interests of growing girls and boys4    
,but if a man is fatherly and           
kind-hearted1 he will find plenty of    
young men who are responsive to a       
paternal interest1 and intensely        
grateful for the good-humoured care of  
one who will listen to their troubles1  
their difficulties1 and their dreams4 ,i
 have two or three young friends who    
tell me what they are doing1 and what   
they hope to do2 ,i have many           
correspondents who were friends of mine 
as boys1 who tell me from time to time  
how it goes with them in the bigger     
world1 and who like in return to hear   
something of my own doings4  ,and so ,i 
sit1 while the clock on the mantelpiece 
ticks out the pleasant minutes1 and the 

fire winks and crumbles on the hearth1  
till the old gyp comes tapping at the   
door to learn my intentions for the     
evening2 and then1 again1 ,i pass out   
into the court1 the lighted windows of  
the ,hall gleam with the ancient        
armorial glass1 from staircase after    
staircase come troops of alert1 gowned  
figures1 while overhead1 above all the  
pleasant stir and murmur of life1 hang  
in the dark sky the unchanging stars4   
,,iii  ,,books   ,the one room in my    
,college which ,i always enter with a   
certain sense of desolation and sadness 
is the ,college library4 ,there used to 
be a story in my days at ,cambridge of a
 book-collecting ,don who was fond of   
discoursing in public of the various    
crosses he had to bear4 ,he was         
lamenting one day in ,hall the unwieldy 
size of his library4 ,i really don't    
know what to do with my books1 he said1 
and looked round for sympathy4 ,why not 
read them8 said a sharp and caustic     
,fellow opposite4 ,it may be thought    

that ,i am in need of the same advice1  
but it is not the case4 ,there are1     
indeed1 many books in our library2 but  
most of them1 as ,d4 ,g4 ,rossetti used 
to say in his childhood of his father's 
learned volumes1 are no good for        
reading4 ,the books of the ,college     
library are delightful1 indeed1 to look 
at2 rows upon rows of big irregular     
volumes1 with tarnished tooling and     
faded gilding on the sun-scorched backs4
 ,what are they8 old editions of        
classics1 old volumes of controversial  
divinity1 folios of the ,fathers1       
topographical treatises1 cumbrous       
philosophers1 pamphlets from which1 like
 dry ashes1 the heat of the fire that   
warmed them once has fled4 ,take one    
down3 it is an agreeable sight enough2  
there is a gentle scent of antiquity2   
the bumpy page crackles faintly2 the big
 irregular print meets the eye with a   
pleasant and leisurely mellowness4 ,but 
what do they tell one8 ,very little1    
alas6 that one need know1 very much     

which it would be a positive mistake to 
believe4 ,that is the worst of          
erudition--that the next scholar sucks  
the few drops of honey that you have    
accumulated1 sets right your blunders1  
and you are superseded4 ,you have handed
 on the torch1 perhaps1 and even trimmed
 it4 ,your errors1 your patient         
explanations1 were a necessary step in  
the progress of knowledge2 but now the  
procession has turned the corner1 and is
 out of sight4  ,yet even here1 it      
pleases me to think1 some mute and      
unsuspected treasure may lurk unknown4  
,in a room like this1 for over a couple 
of centuries1 stood on one of the       
shelves an old rudely bound volume of   
blank paper1 the pages covered with a   
curious straggling cipher2 no one paid  
any heed to it1 no one tried to spell   
its secrets4 ,but the day came when a   
,fellow who was both inquisitive and    
leisurely took up the old volume1 and   
formed a resolve to decipher it4        
,through many baffling delays1 through  

many patient windings1 he carried his   
purpose out2 and the result was a       
celebrated ,day-book1 which cast much   
light upon the social conditions of a   
past age1 as well as revealed one of the
 most simple and genial personalities   
that ever marched blithely through the  
pages of a ,diary4  ,but1 in these days 
of cheap print and nasty paper1 with a  
central library into which pours the    
annual cataract of literature1 these    
little ancient libraries have no use    
left1 save as repositories or           
store-rooms4 ,they belong to the days   
when books were few and expensive2 when 
few persons could acquire a library of  
their own2 when lecturers accumulated   
knowledge that was not the property of  
the world2 when notes were laboriously  
copied and handed on2 when one of the   
joys of learning was the consciousness  
of possessing secrets not known to other
 men4 ,an ancient ,dean of ,christ      
,church is said to have given three     
reasons for the study of ,greek3 the    

first was that it enabled you to read   
the words of the ,saviour in the        
original tongue2 the second1 that it    
gave you a proper contempt for those who
 were ignorant of it2 and the third was 
that it led to situations of emolument4 
,what a rich aroma hangs about this     
judgment6 ,the first reason is probably 
erroneous1 the second is un-,christian1 
and the third is a gross motive which   
would equally apply to any professional 
training whatsoever4  ,well1 the        
knowledge of ,greek1 except for the     
schoolmaster and the clergyman1 has not 
now the same obvious commercial value4  
,knowledge is more diffused1 more       
accessible4 ,it is no longer thought to 
be a secret1 precious1 rather terrible  
possession2 the possessor is no longer  
venerated and revered2 on the contrary1 
a learned man is rather considered      
likely to be tiresome4 ,old folios have1
 indeed1 become merely the              
stock-in-trade of the illustrators of   
sensational novels4 ,who does not know  

the absurd old man1 with white silky    
hair1 velvet skull-cap1 and venerable   
appearance1 who sits reading a folio at 
an oak table1 and who turns out to be   
the villain of the piece1 a mine of     
secret and unsuccessful wickedness8 ,but
 no one in real life reads a folio now1 
because anything that is worth          
reprinting1 as well as a good deal that 
is not1 is reprinted in convenient form1
 if not in ,england1 at least in        
,germany4  ,and the result of it is that
 these ,college libraries are almost    
wholly unvisited4 ,it seems a pity1 but 
it also seems inevitable4 ,i wish that  
some use could be devised for them1 for 
these old books make at all events a    
very dignified and pleasant background1 
and the fragrance of well-warmed old    
leather is a delicate thing4 ,but they  
are not even good places for working in1
 now that one has one's own books and   
one's own reading-chair4 ,moreover1 if  
they were kept up to date1 which would  
in itself be an expensive thing1 there  

would come in the eternal difficulty of 
where to put the old books1 which no one
 would have the heart to destroy4       
,perhaps the best thing for a library   
like this would be not to attempt to buy
 books1 but to subscribe like a club to 
a circulating library1 and to let a     
certain number of new volumes flow      
through the place and lie upon the      
tables for a time4 ,but1 on the other   
hand1 here in the ,university there     
seems to be little time for general     
reading2 and indeed it is a great       
problem1 as life goes on1 as duties grow
 more defined1 and as one becomes more  
and more conscious of the shortness of  
life1 what the duty of a cultivated and 
open-minded man is with regard to       
general reading4 ,i am inclined to think
 that as one grows older one may read   
less2 it is impossible to keep up with  
the vast output of literature1 and it is
 hard enough to find time to follow even
 the one or two branches in which one is
 specially interested4 ,almost the only 

books which1 ,i think1 it is a duty to  
read1 are the lives of great            
contemporaries2 one gets thus to have an
 idea of what is going on in the world1 
and to realize it from different points 
of view4 ,new fiction1 new poetry1 new  
travels are very hard to peruse         
diligently4 ,the effort1 ,i confess1 of 
beginning a new novel1 of making        
acquaintance with an unfamiliar scene1  
of getting the individualities of a     
fresh group of people into one's head1  
is becoming every year harder for me2   
but there are still one or two authors  
of fiction for whom ,i have a           
predilection1 and whose works ,i look   
out for4 ,new poetry demands an even    
greater effort2 and as to travels1 they 
are written so much in the journalistic 
style1 and1 consist so much of the meals
 our traveller obtains at wayside       
stations1 of conversations with         
obviously reticent and even             
unintelligent persons2 they have so many
 photogravures of places that are       

exactly like other places1 and of       
complacent people in grotesque costumes1
 like supers in a play1 that one feels  
the whole thing to be hopelessly        
superficial and unreal4 ,imagine a      
journalistic foreigner visiting the     
,university1 lunching at the station    
refreshment-room1 hurrying to           
half-a-dozen of the best known colleges1
 driving in a tram through the main     
thoroughfares1 looking on at a football 
match1 interviewing a ,town ,councillor1
 and being presented to the             
,vice-,chancellor--what would be the    
profit of such a record as he could give
 us8 ,what would he have seen of the    
quiet daily life1 the interests1 the    
home-current of the place8 ,the only    
books of travel worth reading are those 
where a person has settled deliberately 
in an unknown place1 really lived the   
life of the people1 and penetrated the  
secret of the landscape and the         
buildings4  ,i wish very much that there
 was a really good literary paper1 with 

an editor of catholic tastes1 and       
half-a-dozen stimulating specialists on 
the staff1 whose duty would be to read  
the books that came out1 each in his own
 line1 write reviews of appreciation and
 not of contemptuous fault-finding1 let 
feeble books alone1 and make it their   
business to tell ordinary people what to
 read1 not saving them the trouble of   
reading the books that are worth        
reading1 but sparing them the task of   
glancing at a good many books that are  
not worth reading4 ,literary papers1 as 
a rule1 either review a book with       
hopeless rapidity1 or tend to lag behind
 too much4 ,it would be of the essence  
of such a paper as ,i have described1   
that there should be no delay about     
telling one what to look out for1 and at
 the same time that the reviews should  
be deliberate and careful4  ,but ,i     
think that as one grows older one may   
take out a licence1 so to speak1 to read
 less4 ,one may go back to the old      
restful books1 where one knows the      

characters well1 hear the old remarks1  
survey the same scenes4 ,one may        
meditate more upon one's stores1 stroll 
about more1 just looking at life1 seeing
 the quiet things that are happening1   
and beaming through one's spectacles4   
,one ought to have amassed1 as life goes
 on and the shadows lengthen1 a good    
deal of material for reflection4 ,and1  
after all1 reading is not in itself a   
virtue2 it is only one way of passing   
the time2 talking is another way1       
watching things another4 ,bacon says    
that reading makes a full man2 well1 ,i 
cannot help thinking that many people   
are full to the brim when they reach the
 age of forty1 and that much which they 
afterwards put into the overcharged vase
 merely drips and slobbers uncomfortably
 down the side and foot4  ,the thing to 
determine then1 as one's brain hardens  
or softens1 is what the object of       
reading is4 ,it is not1 ,i venture to   
think1 what used to be called the       
pursuit of knowledge4 ,of course1 if a  

man is a professional teacher or a      
professional writer1 he must read for   
professional purposes1 just as a coral  
insect must eat to enable it to secrete 
the substances out of which it builds   
its branching house4 ,but ,i am not here
 speaking of professional studies1 but  
of general reading4 ,i suppose that     
there are three motives for reading--the
 first1 purely pleasurable2 the second1 
intellectual2 the third1 what may be    
called ethical4 ,as to the first1 a man 
who reads at all1 reads just as he eats1
 sleeps1 and takes exercise1 because he 
likes it2 and that is probably the best 
reason that can be given for the        
practice4 ,it is an innocent mode of    
passing the time1 it takes one out of   
oneself1 it is amusing4 ,of course1 it  
can be carried to an excess2 and a man  
may become a mere book-eater1 as a man  
may become an opium-eater4 ,i used at   
one time to go and stay with an old     
friend1 a clergyman in a remote part of 
,england4 ,he was a bachelor and fairly 

well off4 ,he did not care about        
exercise or his garden1 and he had no   
taste for general society4 ,he          
subscribed to the ,london ,library and  
to a lending library in the little town 
where he lived1 and he bought too1 a    
good many books4 ,he must have spent1 ,i
 used to calculate1 about ten hours of  
the twenty-four in reading4 ,he seemed  
to me to have read everything1 old and  
new books alike1 and he had an          
astonishing memory2 anything that he put
 into his mind remained there exactly as
 fresh and clear as when he laid it     
away1 so that he never needed to read a 
book twice4 ,if he had lived at a       
,university he would have been a useful 
man2 if one wanted to know what books to
 read in any line1 one had only to pick 
his brains4 ,he could give one a list of
 authorities on almost every subject4   
,but in his country parish he was       
entirely thrown away4 ,he had not the   
least desire to make anything of his    
stores1 or to write4 ,he had not the art

 of expression1 and he was a distinctly 
tiresome talker4 ,his idea of           
conversation was to ask you whether you 
had read a number of modern novels4 ,if 
he found one that you had not read1 he  
sketched the plot in an intolerably     
prolix manner1 so that it was           
practically impossible to fix the mind  
on what he was saying4 ,he seemed to    
have no preferences in literature       
whatever2 his one desire was to read    
everything that came out1 and his only  
idea of a holiday was to go up to       
,london and get lists of books from a   
bookseller4 ,that is1 of course1 an     
extreme case2 and ,i cannot help feeling
 that he would have been nearly as      
usefully employed if he had confined    
himself to counting the number of words 
in the books he read4 ,but1 after all1  
he was interested and amused1 and a     
perfectly contented man4  ,as to the    
intellectual motive for reading1 it     
hardly needs discussing2 the object is  
to get clear conceptions1 to arrive at a

 critical sense of what is good in      
literature1 to have a knowledge of      
events and tendencies of thought1 to    
take a just view of history and of great
 personalities2 not to be at the mercy  
of theorists1 but to be able to correct 
a faulty bias by having a large and wide
 view of the progress of events and the 
development of thought4 ,one who reads  
from this point of view will generally  
find some particular line which he tends
 to follow1 some special region of the  
mind where he is desirous to know all   
that can be known2 but he will1 at the  
same time1 wish to acquaint himself in a
 general way with other departments of  
thought1 so that he may be interested in
 subjects in which he is not wholly     
well-informed1 and be able to listen1   
even to ask intelligent questions1 in   
matters with which he has no minute     
acquaintance4 ,such a man1 if he steers 
clear of the contempt for indefinite    
views which is often the curse of men   
with clear and definite minds1 makes the

 best kind of talker1 stimulating and   
suggestive2 his talk seems to open doors
 into gardens and corridors of the house
 of thought2 and others1 whose knowledge
 is fragmentary1 would like to be at    
home1 too1 in that pleasant palace4 ,but
 it is of the essence of such talk that 
it should be natural and attractive1 not
 professional or didactic4 ,people who  
are not used to ,universities tend to   
believe that academical persons are     
invariably formidable4 ,they think of   
them as possessed of vast stores of     
precise knowledge1 and actuated by a    
merciless desire to detect and to       
ridicule deficiencies of attainment     
among unprofessional people4 ,of course1
 there are people of this type to be    
found at a ,university1 just as in all  
other professions it is possible to find
 uncharitable specialists who despise   
persons of hazy and leisurely views4    
,but my own impression is that it is a  
rare type among ,university ,dons2 ,i   
think that it is far commoner at the    

,university to meet men of great        
attainments combined with sincere       
humility and charity1 for the simple    
reason that the most erudite specialist 
at a ,university becomes aware both of  
the wide diversity of knowledge and of  
his own limitations as well4            
,personally1 direct bookish talk is my  
abomination4 ,a knowledge of books ought
 to give a man a delicate allusiveness1 
an aptitude for pointed quotation4 ,a   
book ought to be only incidentally1 not 
anatomically1 discussed2 and ,i am      
pleased to be able to think that there  
is a good deal of this allusive talk at 
the ,university1 and that the only      
reason that there is not more is that   
professional demands are so insistent1  
and work so thorough1 that academical   
persons cannot keep up their general    
reading as they would like to do4  ,and 
then we come to what ,i have called1 for
 want of a better word1 the ethical     
motive for reading2 it might sound at   
first as if ,i meant that people ought  

to read improving books1 but that is    
exactly what ,i do not mean4 ,i have    
very strong opinions on this point1 and 
hold that what ,i call the ethical      
motive for reading is the best of       
all--indeed the only true one4 ,and yet 
,i find a great difficulty in putting   
into words what is a very elusive and   
delicate thought4 ,but my belief is     
this4 ,as ,i make my slow pilgrimage    
through the world1 a certain sense of   
beautiful mystery seems to gather and   
grow4 ,i see that many people find the  
world dreary--and1 indeed1 there must be
 spaces of dreariness in it for us      
all--some find it interesting2 some     
surprising2 some find it entirely       
satisfactory4 ,but those who find it    
satisfactory seem to me1 as a rule1 to  
be tough1 coarse1 healthy natures1 who  
find success attractive and food        
digestible3 who do not trouble their    
heads very much about other people1 but 
go cheerfully and optimistically on     
their way1 closing their eyes as far as 

possible to things painful and          
sorrowful1 and getting all the pleasure 
they can out of material enjoyments4    
,well1 to speak very sincerely and      
humbly1 such a life seems to me the     
worst kind of failure4 ,it is the life  
that men were living in the days of     
,noah1 and out of such lives comes      
nothing that is wise or useful or good4 
,such men leave the world as they found 
it1 except for the fact that they have  
eaten a little way into it1 like a mite 
into a cheese1 and leave a track of     
decomposition behind them4  ,i do not   
know why so much that is hard and       
painful and sad is interwoven with our  
life here2 but ,i see1 or seem to see1  
that it is meant to be so interwoven4   
,all the best and most beautiful flowers
 of character and thought seem to me to 
spring up in the track of suffering2 and
 what is the most sorrowful of all      
mysteries1 the mystery of death1 the    
ceasing to be1 the relinquishing of our 
hopes and dreams1 the breaking of our   

dearest ties1 becomes more solemn and   
awe-inspiring the nearer we advance to  
it4  ,i do not mean that we are to go   
and search for unhappiness2 but1 on the 
other hand1 the only happiness worth    
seeking for is a happiness which takes  
all these dark things into account1     
looks them in the face1 reads the secret
 of their dim eyes and set lips1 dwells 
with them1 and learns to be tranquil in 
their presence4  ,in this mood--and it  
is a mood which no thoughtful man can   
hope or ought to wish to escape--reading
 becomes less and less a searching for  
instructive and impressive facts1 and   
more and more a quest after wisdom and  
truth and emotion4 ,more and more ,i    
feel the impenetrability of the mystery 
that surrounds us2 the phenomena of     
nature1 the discoveries of science1     
instead of raising the veil1 seem only  
to make the problem more complex1 more  
bizarre1 more insoluble2 the            
investigation of the laws of light1 of  
electricity1 of chemical action1 of the 

causes of disease1 the influence of     
heredity--all these things may minister 
to our convenience and our health1 but  
they make the mind of ,god1 the nature  
of the ,first ,cause1 an infinitely more
 mysterious and inconceivable problem4  
,but there still remains1 inside1 so to 
speak1 of these astonishing facts1 a    
whole range of intimate personal        
phenomena1 of emotion1 of relationship1 
of mental or spiritual conceptions1 such
 as beauty1 affection1 righteousness1   
which seem to be an even nearer concern1
 even more vital to our happiness than  
the vast laws of which it is possible   
for men to be so unconscious1 that      
centuries have rolled past without their
 being investigated4  ,and thus in such 
a mood reading becomes a patient tracing
 out of human emotion1 human feeling1   
when confronted with the sorrows1 the   
hopes1 the motives1 the sufferings which
 beckon us and threaten us on every     
side4 ,one desires to know what pure and
 wise and high-hearted natures have made

 of the problem2 one desires to let the 
sense of beauty--that most spiritual of 
all pleasures--sink deeper into the     
heart2 one desires to share the thoughts
 and hopes1 the dreams and visions1 in  
the strength of which the human spirit  
has risen superior to suffering and     
death4  ,and thus1 as ,i say1 the       
reading that is done in such a mood has 
little of precise acquisition or        
definite attainment about it2 it is a   
desire rather to feed and console the   
spirit--to enter the region in which it 
seems better to wonder than to know1 to 
aspire rather than to define1 to hope   
rather than to be satisfied4 ,a spirit  
which walks expectantly along this path 
grows to learn that the secret of such  
happiness as we can attain lies in      
simplicity and courage1 in sincerity and
 loving-kindness2 it grows more and more
 averse to material ambitions and mean  
aims2 it more and more desires silence  
and recollection and contemplation4 ,in 
this mood1 the words of the wise fall   

like the tolling of sweet1 grave bells  
upon the soul1 the dreams of poets come 
like music heard at evening from the    
depth of some enchanted forest1 wafted  
over a wide water2 we know not what     
instrument it is whence the music wells1
 by what fingers swept1 by what lips    
blown2 but we know that there is some   
presence there that is sorrowful or     
glad1 who has power to translate his    
dream into the concord of sweet sounds4 
,such a mood need not withdraw us from  
life1 from toil1 from kindly            
relationships1 from deep affections2 but
 it will rather send us back to life    
with a renewed and joyful zest1 with a  
desire to discern the true quality of   
beautiful things1 of fair thoughts1 of  
courageous hopes1 of wise designs4 ,it  
will make us tolerant and forgiving1    
patient with stubbornness and prejudice1
 simple in conduct1 sincere in word1    
gentle in deed2 with pity for weakness1 
with affection for the lonely and the   
desolate1 with admiration for all that  

is noble and serene and strong4  ,those 
who read in such a spirit will tend to  
resort more and more to large and wise  
and beautiful books1 to press the       
sweetness out of old familiar thoughts1 
to look more for warmth and loftiness of
 feeling than for elaborate and artful  
expression4 ,they will value more and   
more books that speak to the soul1      
rather than books that appeal to the ear
 and to the mind4 ,they will realize    
that it is through wisdom and force and 
nobility that books retain their hold   
upon the hearts of men1 and not by      
briskness and colour and epigram4 ,a    
mind thus stored may have little grasp  
of facts1 little garniture of paradox   
and jest2 but it will be full of        
compassion and hope1 of gentleness and  
joy4 4 4 4  ,well1 this thought has     
taken me a long way from the ,college   
library1 where the old books look       
somewhat pathetically from the shelves1 
like aged dogs wondering why no one     
takes them for a walk4 ,monuments of    

pathetic labour1 tasks patiently        
fulfilled through slow hours6 ,but yet  
,i am sure that a great deal of joy went
 to the making of them1 the joy of the  
old scholar who settled down soberly    
among his papers1 and heard the silvery 
bell above him tell out the dear hours  
that1 perhaps1 he would have delayed if 
he could4 ,yes1 the old books are a     
tender-hearted and a joyful company2 the
 days slip past1 the sunlight moves     
round the court1 and steals warmly for  
an hour or two into the deserted room4  
,life--delightful life--spins merrily   
past2 the perennial stream of youth     
flows on2 and perhaps the best that the 
old books can do for us is to bid us    
cast back a wistful and loving thought  
into the past--a little gift of love for
 the old labourers who wrote so         
diligently in the forgotten hours1 till 
the weary1 failing hand laid down the   
familiar pen1 and soon lay silent in the
 dust4     ,,iv  ,,sociabilities   ,i   
have a friend here1 an old friend1 who1 

in refreshing contrast with the majority
 of the human race1 possesses strongly  
marked characteristics4 ,he knows       
exactly the sort of life that suits him1
 and exactly what he likes4 ,he is not1 
as ,mr4 ,enfield said1 one of the       
fellows who go about doing what is      
called good4 ,but he contrives to give a
 great deal of happiness without having 
any programme4 ,he is1 in the first     
place1 a savant with a great reputation2
 but he makes no parade of his work1 and
 sits down to it because he likes it1 as
 a hungry man may sit down to a pleasant
 meal4 ,he is thus the most leisurely   
man that ,i know1 while1 at the same    
time1 his output is amazing4 ,his table 
is covered deep with books and papers2  
but he will work at a corner1 if he is  
fortunate enough to find one2 and1 if   
not1 he will make a kind of cutting in  
the mass1 and work in the shade1 with   
steep banks of stratified papers on     
either hand4 ,he is always accessible1  
always ready to help any one4 ,the      

undergraduate1 that shy bird in whose   
sight the net is so often spread in     
vain1 even though it be baited with the 
priceless privilege of tea1 tobacco1 and
 the talk of a well-informed man1 comes1
 in troops and companies1 to see him4   
,he is a man too with a deep vein of    
humour1 and1 what is far more rare1 a   
keen vein of appreciation of the humour 
of others4 ,he laughs as if he were     
amused1 not like a man discharging a    
painful duty4 ,it is true that he will  
not answer letters2 but then his        
writing-paper is generally drowned      
deeper than plummet can sound2 his pens 
are rusty1 and his ink is of the        
consistency of tar2 but he will always  
answer questions1 with an incredible    
patience and sympathy1 correcting one's 
mistakes in a genial and tentative way1 
as if a matter admitted of many         
opinions4 ,if a man1 for instance1      
maintains that the ,norman ,conquest    
took place in #ajff ,b4,c41 he will say 
that some historians put it more than   

two thousand years later1 but that of   
course it is difficult to arrive at     
exact accuracy in these matters4 ,thus  
one never feels snubbed or snuffed out  
by him4  ,well1 for the purposes of my  
argument1 ,i will call my friend ,perry1
 though it is not his name2 and having  
finished my introduction ,i will go on  
to my main story4  ,i took in to dinner 
the other night a beautiful and         
accomplished lady1 with whom it is      
always a pleasure to talk4 ,the         
conversation turned upon ,mr4 ,perry4   
,she said with a graceful air of        
judgment that she had but one fault to  
find with him1 and that was that he     
hated women4 ,i hazarded a belief that  
he was shy1 to which she replied with a 
dignified assurance that he was not shy2
 he was lazy4  ,prudence and discretion 
forbade me to appeal against this       
decision2 but ,i endeavoured to arrive  
at the principles that supported such a 
verdict4 ,i gathered that ,egeria       
considered that every one owed a certain

 duty to society2 that people had no    
business to pick and choose1 to         
cultivate the society of those who      
happened to please and interest them1   
and to eschew the society of those who  
bored and wearied them2 that such a     
course was not fair to the uninteresting
 people1 and so forth4 ,but the point   
was that there was a duty involved1 and 
that some sacrifice was required of     
virtuous people in the matter4  ,egeria 
herself is certainly blameless in the   
matter3 she diffuses sweetness and light
 in many tedious assemblies2 she is true
 to her principles2 but for all that ,i 
cannot agree with her on this point4    
,in the first place ,i cannot agree that
 sociability is a duty at all1 and to   
conceive of it as such seems to me to   
misunderstand the whole situation4 ,i   
think that a man loses a great deal by  
being unsociable1 and that for his own  
happiness he had better make an effort  
to see something of his fellows4 ,all   
kinds of grumpinesses and morbidities   

arise from solitude2 and a shy man ought
 to take occasional dips into society   
from a medicinal point of view1 as a man
 should take a cold bath2 even if he    
confers no pleasure on others by so     
doing1 the mere sense1 to a timid man1  
of having steered a moderately straight 
course through a social entertainment is
 in itself enlivening and invigorating1 
and gives the pleasing feeling of having
 escaped from a great peril4 ,but the   
accusation of unsociability does not    
apply to ,perry1 whose doors are open   
day and night1 and whose welcome is     
always perfectly sincere4 ,moreover1 the
 frame of mind in which a man goes to a 
party1 determined to confer pleasure and
 exercise influence1 is a dangerously   
self-satisfied one4 ,society is1 after  
all1 a recreation and a delight1 and    
ought to be sought for with pleasurable 
motives1 not with a consciousness of    
rectitude and justice4  ,my own belief  
is that every one has a perfect right to
 choose his own circle1 and to make it  

large or small as he desires4 ,it is a  
monstrous thing to hold that1 if an     
agreeable or desirable person comes to a
 place1 one has but to leave a piece of 
pasteboard at his door to entail upon   
him the duty of coming round till he    
finds one at home1 and of disporting    
himself gingerly1 like a dancing bear   
among the teacups4 ,a card ought to be a
 species of charity1 left on solitary   
strangers1 to give them the chance of   
coming1 if they like1 to see the leaver 
of it1 or as a preliminary to a real    
invitation4 ,it ought to be a ticket of 
admission1 which a man may use or not as
 he likes1 not a legal summons4 ,that   
any one should return a call should be a
 compliment and an honour1 not regarded 
as the mere discharging of a compulsory 
duty4  ,i have heard fair ladies        
complain of the boredom they endured at 
tea-parties2 they speak of themselves as
 the martyrs and victims of a sense of  
duty4 ,if such people talked of the duty
 of visiting the sick and afflicted as a

 thing which their conception of        
,christian love entailed upon them1     
which they performed1 reluctantly and   
unwillingly1 from a sense of obligation1
 ,i should respect them deeply and      
profoundly4 ,but ,i have not often found
 that the people who complain most of   
their social duties1 and who discharge  
them most sedulously1 complain because  
such duties interrupt a course of       
,christian beneficence4 ,it is1 indeed1 
rather the other way2 it is generally   
true that those who see a good deal of  
society 7from a sense of duty7 and find 
it dull1 are the people who have no     
particular interests or pursuits of     
their own4  ,there is less excuse in a  
,university town than in any other for  
adopting this pompous and formal view of
 the duties of society1 because there   
are very few unoccupied people in such a
 place4 ,my own occupations1 such as    
they are1 fill the hours from breakfast 
to luncheon and from tea to dinner2 men 
of sedentary lives1 who do a good deal  

of brainwork1 find an hour or two of    
exercise and fresh air a necessity in   
the afternoon4 ,indeed1 a man who cares 
about his work1 and who regards it as a 
primary duty1 finds no occupation more  
dispiriting1 more apt to unfit him for  
serious work1 than pacing from house to 
house in the early afternoon1 delivering
 a pack of visiting-cards1 varied by a  
perfunctory conversation1 seated at the 
edge of an easy-chair1 on subjects of   
inconceivable triviality4 ,of course    
there are men so constituted that they  
find this pastime a relief and a        
pleasure2 but their felicity of         
temperament ought not to be made into a 
rule for serious-minded men4 ,the only  
social institution which might really   
prove beneficial in a ,university is an 
informal evening salon4 ,if people might
 drop in uninvited1 in evening dress or 
not1 as was convenient1 from nine to ten
 in the evening1 at a pleasant house1 it
 would be a rational practice2 but few  
such experiments seem ever to be tried4 

,moreover1 the one thing that is fatal  
to all spontaneous social enjoyment is  
that the guests should1 like the maimed 
and blind in the parable1 be compelled  
to come in4 ,the frame of mind of an    
eminent ,cabinet ,minister whom ,i once 
accompanied to an evening party rises   
before my mind4 ,he was in deep         
depression at having to go2 and when ,i 
ventured to ask his motive in going1 he 
said1 with an air of unutterable        
self-sacrifice1 ,i suppose that we ought
 sometimes to be ready to submit to the 
tortures we inflict on others4 ,imagine 
a circle of guests assembled in such a  
frame of mind1 and it would seem that   
one had all the materials for a         
thoroughly pleasant party4  ,i was      
lately taken by a friend1 with whom ,i  
was staying in the country1 to a garden 
party4 ,i confess that ,i think it would
 be hard to conceive circumstances less 
favourable to personal enjoyment4 ,the  
day was hot1 and ,i was uncomfortably   
dressed4 ,i found myself first in a hot 

room1 where the host and hostess were   
engaged in what is called receiving4 ,a 
stream of pale1 perspiring people moved 
slowly through1 some of them frankly    
miserable1 some with an air of false    
geniality1 which deceived no one1       
written upon their faces4 ,so pleasant  
to see so many friends6 ,what a         
delightful day you have got for your    
party6 ,such ineptitudes were the       
current coin of the market4 ,i passed on
 into another room where refreshment1 of
 a nature that ,i did not want1 was     
sadly accepted4 ,and ,i then passed out 
into the open air2 the garden was       
disagreeably crowded2 there was a din of
 doubtful talk1 as ,rossetti says4 ,the 
sun beat down dizzily on my streaming   
brow4 ,i joined group after group1 where
 the conversation was all of the same   
easy and stimulating character1 until ,i
 felt sick and faint 7though of robust  
constitution7 with the mazes of heat and
 sound in which my life seemed turning1 
turning1 like the life of the heroine of

 ,requiescat4 ,i declare that such a    
performance is the sort of thing that ,i
 should expect to find in hell1 even    
down to the burning marl1 as ,milton    
says4 ,i got away dizzy1 unstrung1 unfit
 for life1 with that terrible sense of  
fatigue unaccompanied by wholesome      
tiredness1 that comes of standing in hot
 buzzing places4 ,i had heard not a     
single word that amused or interested   
me2 and yet there were plenty of people 
present with whom ,i should have enjoyed
 a leisurely talk1 to whom ,i felt      
inclined to say1 in the words of ,prince
 ,henry to ,poins1 ,prithee1 ,ned1 come 
out of this fat room1 and lend me thy   
hand to laugh a little6 ,but as ,i went 
away1 ,i pondered sadly upon the almost 
inconceivable nature of the motive which
 could lead people to behave as ,i had  
seen them behaving1 and resolutely to   
label it pleasure4 ,i suppose that1 as a
 matter of fact1 many persons find stir1
 and movement1 and the presence of a    
crowd an agreeable stimulus4 ,i imagine 

that people are divided into those who1 
if they see a crowd of human beings in a
 field1 have a desire to join them1 and 
those who1 at the same sight1 long to   
fly swiftly to the uttermost ends of the
 earth4 ,i am of the latter temperament2
 and ,i cannot believe that there is any
 duty which should lead me to resist the
 impulse as a temptation to evil4 ,but  
the truth is that sociable people1 like 
liturgical people1 require1 for the full
 satisfaction of their instincts1 that a
 certain number of other persons should 
be present at the ceremonies which they 
affect1 and that all should be occupied 
in the same way4 ,it is of little moment
 to the originators of the ceremony     
whether those present are there         
willingly or unwillingly2 and thus the  
only resource of their victims is to go 
out on strike2 so far from thinking it a
 duty to be present at social or        
religious functions1 in order that my   
sociable or liturgical friends should   
have a suitable background for their    

pleasures1 ,i think it a solemn duty to 
resist to the uttermost this false and  
vexatious theory of society and         
religion6  ,i suppose1 too1 that        
inveterate talkers and discoursers      
require an audience who should listen   
meekly and admiringly1 and not          
interrupt4 ,i have friends who are      
afflicted with this taste to such an    
extent1 who are so determined to hold   
the talk in their own hands1 that ,i    
declare they might as well have a       
company of stuffed seals to sit down to 
dinner with1 as a circle of living and  
breathing men4 ,but ,i do not think it  
right1 or at all events necessary1 in   
the interests of human kindliness1 that 
,i should victimize myself so for a     
man's pleasure4 ,neither do ,i think it 
necessary that ,i should attend a       
ceremony where ,i neither get nor give  
anything of the nature of pleasure1     
simply in order to conform to a social  
rule1 invented and propagated by those  
who happen to enjoy such gatherings4  ,i

 remember being much struck by an       
artless reminiscence of an              
undergraduate1 quoted in the ,memoirs of
 a certain distinguished academical     
personage1 who was fond of inviting     
young men to share his hospitality for  
experimental reasons4 ,i cannot         
recollect the exact words1 but the      
undergraduate wrote of his celebrated   
entertainer somewhat to the following   
effect3 ,he asked me to sit down1 so ,i 
sate down2 he asked me to eat an apple1 
so ,i ate it4 ,he asked me to take a    
glass of wine1 so ,i poured one out1 and
 drank it4 ,i am told that he tries to  
get you to talk so that he may see the  
kind of fellow you are2 but ,i didn't   
want him to know the kind of fellow ,i  
was1 so ,i didn't talk2 and presently ,i
 went away4 ,i think that this species  
of retaliation is perfectly fair in the 
case of experimental entertainments4    
,social gatherings must be conducted on 
a basis of perfect equality1 and the    
idea of duty in connection with them is 

a bugbear invented in the interests of  
those who are greedy of society1 and not
 in a position to contribute any        
pleasure to a social gathering4  ,it    
might be inferred from the above        
considerations that ,i am an            
inveterately unsociable person2 but such
 is not the case4 ,i am extremely       
gregarious at the right time and place4 
,i love to spend a large part of the day
 alone2 ,i think that a perfect day     
consists in a solitary breakfast and a  
solitary morning2 a single companion for
 luncheon and exercise2 again some      
solitary hours2 but then ,i love to dine
 in company and1 if possible1 to spend  
the rest of the evening with two or     
three congenial persons4 ,but more and  
more1 as life goes on1 do ,i find the   
mixed company tiresome1 and the         
tete-a-tete delightful4 ,the only       
amusement of society is the getting to  
know what other people really think and 
feel3 what amuses them1 what pleases    
them1 what shocks them2 what they like  

and what they loathe2 what they tolerate
 and what they condemn4 ,a dinner-party 
is agreeable1 principally because one is
 absolutely tied down to make the best  
of two people4 ,very few ,english people
 have the art of conversing unaffectedly
 and sincerely before a circle2 when one
 does come across it1 it is a rare and  
beautiful art1 like singing1 or oratory4
 ,but the presence of such an           
improvisatore is the only thing that    
makes a circle tolerable4 ,on the other 
hand1 a great many ,english people have 
the art of tete-a-tete talking2 and ,i  
can honestly say that ,i have very      
seldom been brought into close relations
 with an individual without finding an  
unsuspected depth and width of interest 
in the companionship4  ,but in any case 
the whole thing is a mere question of   
pleasure2 and ,i return to my thesis1   
which is that the only possible theory  
is for every one to find and create the 
kind of society that he or she may like4
 ,depend upon it1 congenial society is  

the only kind of society to1 and in     
which1 any one will give his best4 ,if  
people like the society of the          
restaurant1 the club1 the drawing-room1 
the dining-room1 the open air1 the      
cricket-field1 the moor1 the            
golf-course1 in the name of pleasure and
 common sense let them have it2 but to  
condemn people1 by brandishing the fiery
 sword of duty over their heads1 to     
attend uncongenial gatherings seems to  
me to be both absurd and unjust4  ,the  
case of my friend ,perry is1 ,i must    
admit1 complicated by the fact that he  
does add greatly to the happiness of any
 circle of which he is a member2 he is  
an admirable listener and a sympathetic 
talker4 ,but if ,egeria desires to make 
a ,numa of him1 and to inspire him with 
her own gentle wisdom1 let her convince 
him quietly that he does owe a duty to  
society1 and not censure him before his 
friends4 ,if ,egeria1 in her own        
inimitable way1 would say to him that   
the lives of academical ladies were apt 

to be dull1 and that it was a matter of 
graceful chivalry for him to brighten   
the horizon1 why1 ,perry could not      
resist her4 ,but chivalry is a thing    
which must be courteously and generously
 conceded1 and must never be pettishly  
claimed2 and indeed ,i do not want      
,perry interfered with in this matter3  
he fills a very peculiar niche1 he is a 
lodestar to enthusiastic undergraduates2
 he is the joy of sober common-rooms4 ,i
 wish with all my heart that the        
convenances of life permitted ,egeria   
herself to stray into those book-lined  
rooms1 dim with tobacco-smoke1 to warble
 and sing to the accompaniment of       
,perry's cracked piano1 to take her     
place among the casual company4 ,but as 
,egeria cannot go to ,perry1 and as     
,perry will not go to ,egeria1 they must
 respect each other from a distance1 and
 do their best alone4  ,and1 after all1 
simple1 sincere1 and kindly persons are 
apt to find1 as ,stevenson wisely said1 
their circle ready-made4 ,the only      

people who cannot get the friends and   
companions they want are those who      
petulantly claim attention2 and the     
worst error of all consists in mistaking
 the gentle pleasures of life1 such as  
society and intercourse1 for the duties 
of life1 and of codifying and           
formalizing them4 ,for myself1 ,i wish  
with all my heart that ,i had ,perry's  
power2 ,i wish that those throngs of    
young men would feel impelled to come in
 and talk to me1 easily and simply4 ,i  
have1 it is true1 several faithful      
friends1 but very few of them will come 
except in response to a definite        
invitation2 and really1 if they do not  
want to come1 ,i do not at all wish to  
force them to do so4 ,it might amuse me2
 but if it amused them1 they would come3
 as they do not come1 ,i am quite ready 
to conclude that it does not amuse them4
 ,i am as conscious as every one else of
 the exquisitely stimulating and        
entertaining character of my own talk2  
it constantly pains me that so few      

people take advantage of their          
opportunities of visiting the healing   
fount4 ,but the fact is incontestable   
that my talents are not appreciated at  
their right value2 and ,i must be       
content with such slender encouragement 
as ,i receive4 ,in vain do ,i purchase  
choice brands of cigars and cigarettes1 
and load my side-table with the best    
,scotch whisky4 ,not eyen with that     
solace will the vagrant undergraduate   
consent to be douched under the stream  
of my suggestive conversation4  ,a      
humorous friend of mine1 ,tipton by     
name1 an official of a neighbouring     
college1 told me that he held receptions
 of undergraduates on ,sunday evenings4 
,i believe that he is in reality a model
 host1 full of resource and             
sprightliness1 and that admission to his
 entertainments is eagerly coveted4 ,but
 it pleases him to depreciate his own   
success4 ,oh1 yes1 he said1 in answer to
 my questions as to the art he          
practised1 a few of them come2 one or   

two because they like me2 some because  
they1 think there is going to be a row  
about attendance at chapel1 and hope to 
mend matters2 one or two because they   
like to stand well with the dons1 when  
there is a chance of a fellowship2 but  
the lowest motive of all1 he went on1   
was the motive which ,i heard from the  
lips of one on a summer evening1 when my
 windows were all open1 and ,i was just 
prepared to receive boarders2 an        
ingenuous friend of mine beneath said to
 another unoccupied youth1 ',what do you
 think about doing a ,tipper tonight8'  
,to which the other replied1 ',well1    
yes1 one ought to do one a term2 let's  
go in at once and get it over4'     ,v  
,,conversation   ,i cannot help wishing 
sometimes that ,english people had more 
theories about conversation4 ,really    
good talk is one of the greatest        
pleasures there is1 and yet how rarely  
one comes across it6 ,there are a good  
many people among my acquaintance who on
 occasions are capable of talking well4 

,but what they seem to lack is          
initiative1 and deliberate purpose4 ,if 
people would only look upon conversation
 in a more serious light1 much would be 
gained4 ,i do not of course mean1       
,heaven forbid6 that people should try  
to converse seriously2 that results in  
the worst kind of dreariness1 in        
feeling1 as ,stevenson said1 that one   
has the brain of a sheep and the eyes of
 a boiled codfish4 ,but ,i mean that the
 more seriously one takes an amusement1 
the more amusing it becomes4 ,what ,i   
wish is that people would apply the same
 sort of seriousness to talk that they  
apply to golf and bridge2 that they     
should desire to improve their game1    
brood over their mistakes1 try to do    
better4 ,why is it that so many people  
would think it priggish and effeminate  
to try to improve their talk1 and yet   
think it manly and rational to try to   
shoot better8 ,of course it must be done
 with a natural zest and enjoyment1 or  
it is useless4 ,what a ghastly picture  

one gets of the old-fashioned talkers   
and wits1 committing a number of        
subjects to memory1 turning over a      
commonplace book for apposite anecdotes 
and jests1 adding dates to those        
selected that they may not tell the same
 story again too soon1 learning up a    
list of epigrams1 stuck in a            
shaving-glass1 when they are dressing   
for dinner1 and then sallying forth     
primed to bursting with conversation6   
,it is all very well to know beforehand 
the kind of line you would wish to take1
 but spontaneity is a necessary         
ingredient of talk1 and to make up one's
 mind to get certain stories in1 is to  
deprive talk of its fortuitous charm4   
,when two celebrated talkers of the kind
 that ,i have described used to meet1   
the talk was nothing but a smart        
interchange of anecdotes4 ,there is a   
story of ,macaulay and some other great 
conversationalist getting into the swing
 at breakfast when staying1 ,i think1   
with ,lord ,lansdowne4 ,they drew their 

chairs to the fire1 the rest of the     
company formed a circle round them1 and 
listened meekly to the dialogue until   
luncheon4 ,what an appalling picture6   
,one sympathizes with ,carlyle on the   
occasion when he was asked to dinner to 
meet a great talker1 who poured forth a 
continuous flow of jest and anecdote    
until the meal was far advanced4 ,then  
came a lull2 ,carlyle laid down his     
knife and fork1 and looking round with  
the famous crucified expression on his  
face1 said in a voice of agonized       
entreaty1 ,for ,god's sake take me away1
 and put me in a room by myself1 and    
give me a pipe of tobacco6 ,he felt1 as 
,i have felt on such occasions1 an      
imperative need of silence and          
recollection and repose4 ,indeed1 as he 
said on another occasion1 of one of     
,coleridge's harangues1 to sit still and
 be pumped into is never an exhilarating
 process4  ,that species of talker is1  
however1 practically extinct2 though    
indeed ,i have met men whose idea of    

talk was a string of anecdotes1 and who 
employed the reluctant intervals of     
silence imposed upon them by the        
desperate attempt of fellow-guests to   
join in the fun1 in arranging the points
 of their next anecdote4  ,what seems to
 me so odd about a talker of that kind  
is the lack of any sense of justice     
about his talk4 ,he presumably enjoys   
the exercise of speech1 and it seems to 
me strange that it should not occur to  
him that others may like it too1 and    
that he should not concede a certain    
opportunity to others to have their say1
 if only in the interests of fair play4 
,it is as though a gourmet's            
satisfaction in a good dinner were not  
complete unless he could prevent every  
one else from partaking of the food     
before them4  ,what is really most      
needed in social gatherings is a kind of
 moderator of the talk1 an informal     
president4 ,many people1 as ,i have     
said1 are quite capable of talking      
interestingly1 if they get a lead4 ,the 

perfect moderator should have a large   
stock of subjects of general interest4  
,he should1 so to speak1 kick-off4 ,and 
then he should either feel1 or at least 
artfully simulate1 an interest in other 
people's point of view4 ,he should ask  
questions1 reply to arguments1          
encourage1 elicit expressions of        
opinion4 ,he should not desire to steer 
his own course1 but follow the line that
 the talk happens to take4 ,if he aims  
at the reputation of being a good       
talker1 he will win a far higher fame by
 pursuing this course2 for it is a      
lamentable fact that1 after a lively    
talk1 one is apt to remember far better 
what one has oneself contributed to the 
discussion than what other people have  
said2 and if you can send guests away   
from a gathering feeling that they have 
talked well1 they will be disposed in   
that genial mood to concede             
conversational merit to the other       
participators4 ,a naive and             
simple-minded friend of my own once cast

 an extraordinary light on the subject1 
by saying to me1 the day after an       
agreeable symposium at my own house1 ,we
 had a very pleasant evening with you   
yesterday4 ,i was in great form6  ,the  
only two kinds of talker that ,i find   
tiresome are the talker of paradoxes and
 the egotist4 ,a few paradoxes are all  
very well2 they are stimulating and     
gently provocative4 ,but one gets tired 
of a string of them2 they become little 
more than a sort of fence erected round 
a man's mind2 one despairs of ever      
knowing what a paradoxical talker really
 thinks4 ,half the charm of good talk   
consists in the glimpses and peeps one  
gets into the stuff of a man's thoughts2
 and it is wearisome to feel that a     
talker is for ever tossing subjects on  
his horns1 perpetually trying to say the
 unexpected1 the startling thing4 ,in   
the best talk of all1 a glade suddenly  
opens up1 like the glades in the ,alpine
 forests through which they bring the   
timber down to the valley2 one sees a   

long green vista1 all bathed in         
shimmering sunshine1 with the dark head 
of a mountain at the top4 ,so in the    
best talk one has a sudden sight of     
something high1 sweet1 serious1 austere4
  ,the other kind of talk that ,i find  
very disagreeable is the talk of a      
full-fledged egotist1 who converses     
without reference to his hearers1 and   
brings out what is in his mind4 ,one    
gets interesting things in this way from
 time to time2 but the essence1 as ,i   
have said1 of good talk is that one     
should have provoking and stimulating   
peeps into other minds1 not that one    
should be compelled to gaze and stare   
into them4 ,i have a friend1 or rather  
an acquaintance1 whose talk is just as  
if he opened a trap-door into his mind3 
you look into a dark place where        
something flows1 stream or sewer2       
sometimes it runs clear and brisk1 but  
at other times it seems to be charged   
with dirt and debris2 and yet there is  
no escape2 you have to stand and look1  

to breathe the very odours of the mind1 
until he chooses to close the door4     
,the mistake that many earnest and      
persevering talkers make is to suppose  
that to be engrossed is the same thing  
as being engrossing4 ,it is true of     
conversation as of many other things1   
that the half is better than the whole4 
,people who are fond of talking ought to
 beware of being lengthy4 ,how one knows
 the despair of conversing with a man   
who is determined to make a clear and   
complete statement of everything1 and   
not to let his hearer off anything6     
,arguments1 questions1 views1 rise in   
the mind in the course of the harangue1 
and are swept away by the moving stream4
 ,such talkers suffer from a complacent 
feeling that their information is       
correct and complete1 and that their    
deductions are necessarily sound4 ,but  
it is quite possible to form and hold a 
strong opinion1 and yet to realize that 
it is after all only one point of view1 
and that there is probably much to be   

said on the other side4 ,the unhappiest 
feature of drifting into a habit of     
positive and continuous talk is that one
 has few friends faithful enough to     
criticise such a habit and tell one the 
unvarnished truth2 if the habit is once 
confirmed1 it becomes almost impossible 
to break it off4 ,i know of a family    
conclave that was once summoned1 in     
order1 if possible1 to communicate the  
fact to one of the circle that he was in
 danger of becoming a bore2 the head of 
the family was finally deputed to convey
 the fact as delicately as possible to  
the erring brother4 ,he did so1 with    
much tender circumlocution4 ,the        
offender was deeply mortified1 but      
endeavoured to thank his elderly        
relative for discharging so painful a   
task4 ,he promised amendment4 ,he sate  
glum and tongue-tied for several weeks  
in the midst of cheerful gatherings4    
,very gradually the old habit prevailed4
 ,within six months he was as tedious as
 ever2 but what is the saddest part of  

the whole business is that he has never 
quite forgiven the teller of the        
unwelcome news1 while at the same time  
he labours under the impression that he 
has cured himself of the habit4  ,it is1
 of course1 useless to attempt to make  
oneself into a brilliant talker1 because
 the qualities needed--humour1          
quickness1 the power of seeing          
unexpected connections1 picturesque     
phrasing1 natural charm1 sympathy1      
readiness1 and so forth--are things     
hardly attainable by effort4 ,but much  
can be done by perseverance2 and it is  
possible to form a deliberate habit of  
conversation by determining that however
 much one may be indisposed to talk1    
however unpromising one's companions may
 seem1 one will at all events keep up an
 end4 ,i have known really shy and      
unready persons who from a sheer sense  
of duty have made themselves into very  
tolerable talkers4 ,a friend of my      
acquaintance confesses that a device she
 has occasionally employed is to think  

of subjects in alphabetical order4 ,i   
could not practise this device myself1  
because when ,i had lighted upon1 we    
will say1 algebra1 archery1 and         
astigmatism1 as possible subjects for   
talk1 ,i should find it impossible to   
invent any gambit by which they could be
 successfully introduced4  ,the only    
recipe which ,i would offer to a student
 of the art is not to be afraid of      
apparent egotism1 but to talk frankly of
 any subject in which he may be         
interested1 from a personal point of    
view4 ,an impersonal talker is apt to be
 a dull dog4 ,there is nothing like a   
frank expression of personal views to   
elicit an equally frank expression of   
divergence or agreement4 ,neither is it 
well to despise the day of small things2
 the weather1 railway travelling1       
symptoms of illness1 visits to a        
dentist1 sea-sickness1 as representing  
the universal experiences and interests 
of humanity1 will often serve as points 
d'appui4  ,of course there come to all  

people horrible tongue-tied moments when
 they can think of nothing to say1 and1 
feel like a walrus on an ice-floe1      
heavy1 melancholy1 ineffective4 ,such a 
catastrophe is almost invariably        
precipitated in my own case by being    
told that some one is particularly      
anxious to be introduced to me4 ,a      
philosopher of my acquaintance1 who was 
an admirable talker1 told me that on a  
certain occasion1 an evening party1 his 
hostess led up a young girl to him1 like
 ,iphigenia decked for the sacrifice1   
and said that ,miss ---- was desirous of
 meeting him4 ,the world became         
instantly a blank to him4 ,the          
enthusiastic damsel stared at him with  
large admiring eyes4 ,after a period of 
agonized silence1 a remark occurred to  
him which he felt might have been       
appropriate if it had been made earlier 
in the encounter4 ,he rejected it as    
useless1 and after another interval a   
thought came to him which he saw might  
have served1 if the suspense had not    

been already so prolonged2 this was also
 put aside2 and after a series of       
belated remarks had occurred to him1    
each of which seemed to be hopelessly   
unworthy of the expectation he had      
excited1 the hostess1 seeing that things
 had gone wrong1 came1 like ,artemis1   
and led ,iphigenia away1 without the    
philosopher having had the opportunity  
of indulging in a single reflection4    
,the experience1 he said1 was of so     
appalling a character1 that he set to1  
and invented a remark which he said was 
applicable to persons of all ages and of
 either sex1 under any circumstances    
whatever2 but1 as he would never reveal 
this precious possession to the most    
ardent inquirers1 the secret1 whatever  
it was1 has perished with him4  ,one of 
my friends has a perfectly unique gift  
of conversation4 ,he is a prominent man 
of affairs1 a perfect mine of political 
secrets4 ,he is a ready talker1 and has 
the art1 both in a tete-a-tete as well  
as in a mixed company1 of mentioning    

things which are extremely interesting1 
and appear to be hopelessly indiscreet4 
,he generally accompanies his relation  
of these incidents with a request that  
the subject may not be mentioned        
outside4 ,the result is that every one  
who is brought into contact with him    
feels that he is selected by the great  
man because of some happy gift of       
temperament1 trustworthiness1 or        
discretion1 or even on grounds of       
personal importance1 to be the recipient
 of this signal mark of confidence4 ,on 
one occasion ,i endeavoured1 after one  
of these conversations1 not for the sake
 of betraying him1 but in the interests 
of a diary which ,i keep1 to formulate  
in precise and permanent terms some of  
this interesting intelligence4 ,to my   
intense surprise and disappointment1 ,i 
found myself entirely unable to         
recollect1 much less to express1 any of 
his statements4 ,they had melted in the 
mind1 like some delicate confection1 and
 left behind them nothing but a faint   

aroma of interest and pleasure4  ,this  
would be a dangerous example to imitate1
 because it requires a very subtle      
species of art to select incidents and  
episodes which should both gratify the  
hearers1 and which at the same time it  
should be impossible to hand on4 ,most  
people who attempted such a task would  
sink into being miserable blabbers of   
tacenda1 mere sieves through which      
matters of secret importance would      
granulate into the hands of ardent      
journalists4 ,but at once to stimulate  
and gratify curiosity1 and to give a    
quiet circle the sense of being admitted
 to the inmost penetralia of affairs1 is
 a triumph of conversational art4  ,dr4 
,johnson used to say that he loved to   
stretch his legs and have his talk out2 
and the fact remains that the best      
conversation one gets is the            
conversation that one does not scheme   
for1 and even on occasions from which   
one has expected but little4 ,the talks 
that remain in my mind as of pre-eminent

 interest are long leisurely tete-a-tete
 talks1 oftenest perhaps of all in the  
course of a walk1 when exercise sends   
the blood coursing through the brain1   
when a pleasant countryside tunes the   
spirit to a serene harmony of mood1 and 
when the mind1 stimulated into a joyful 
readiness by association with some      
quiet1 just1 and perceptive companion1  
visits its dusty warehouse1 and turns   
over its fantastic stores4 ,then is the 
time to penetrate into the inmost       
labyrinths of a subject1 to indulge in  
pleasing discursiveness1 as the fancy   
leads one1 and yet to return again and  
again with renewed relish to the central
 theme4 ,such talks as these1 with no   
overshadowing anxiety upon the mind1    
held on breezy uplands or in pleasant   
country lanes1 make the moments1 indeed1
 to which the mind1 in the sad mood     
which remembers the days that are gone1 
turns with that sorrowful desolation of 
which ,dante speaks1 as to a treasure   
lightly spent and ungratefully regarded4

 ,how such hours rise up before the     
mind6 ,even now as ,i write ,i think of 
such a scene1 when ,i walked with a     
friend1 long dead1 on the broad yellow  
sands beside a western sea4 ,i can      
recall the sharp hiss of the shoreward  
wind1 the wholesome savours of the      
brine1 the soft clap of small waves1 the
 sand-dunes behind the shore1 pricked   
with green tufts of grass1 the ships    
moving slowly on the sea's rim1 and the 
shadowy headland to which we hardly     
seemed to draw more near1 while we spoke
 of all that was in our hearts1 and all 
that we meant to do and be4 ,that day   
was a great gift from ,god2 and yet1 as 
,i received it1 ,i did not know how fair
 a jewel of memory it would be4 ,i like 
to think that there are many such jewels
 of recollection clasped close in the   
heart's casket1 even in the minds of men
 and women that ,i meet1 that seem so   
commonplace to me1 so interesting to    
themselves6  ,it is strange1 in         
reflecting about the memorable talks ,i 

have held with different people1 to find
 that ,i remember best the talks that ,i
 have had with men1 rather than with    
women4 ,there is a kind of simple       
openness1 an equal comradeship in talks 
with men1 which ,i find it difficult to 
attain in the case of women4 ,i suppose 
that some unsuspected mystery of sex    
creeps in1 and that with women there is 
a whole range of experiences and        
emotions that one does not share1 so    
that there is an invisible and          
intangible barrier erected between the  
two minds4 ,i feel1 too1 in talking with
 women1 that ,i am met with almost too  
much sympathy and tact1 so that one     
falls into an egotistical mood4 ,it is  
difficult1 too1 ,i find1 to be as frank 
in talking with women as with men2      
because ,i think that women tend more   
than men to hold a preconceived idea of 
one's character and tastes2 and it is   
difficult to talk simply and naturally  
to any one who has formed a mental      
picture of one1 especially if one is    

aware that it is not correct4 ,but men  
are slower to form impressions1 and thus
 talk is more experimental2 moreover1 in
 talking with men1 one encounters more  
opposition1 and opposition puts one more
 on one's mettle4  ,thus a tete-a-tete  
with a man of similar tastes1 who is    
just and yet sympathetic1 critical yet  
appreciative1 whose point of view just  
differs enough to make it possible for  
him to throw sidelights on a subject1   
and to illumine aspects of it that were 
unperceived and neglected--this is a    
high intellectual pleasure1 a potion to 
be delicately sipped at leisure4  ,but  
after all it is impossible to say what  
makes a conversationalist4 ,there are   
people who seem to possess every        
qualification for conversing except the 
power to converse4 ,the two absolutely  
essential things are1 in the first      
place1 a certain charm of mind and even 
manner1 which is a purely instinctive   
gift2 and1 in the second place1 real    
sympathy with1 real interest in the     

deuteragonist4  ,people can be useful   
talkers1 even interesting talkers1      
without these gifts4 ,one may like to   
hear what a man of vigorous mind may    
have to say on a subject that he knows  
well1 even if he is unsympathetic4 ,but 
then one listens in a receptive frame of
 mind1 as though one were prepared to   
attend a lecture4 ,there are plenty of  
useful talkers at a ,university1 men    
whom it is a pleasure to meet           
occasionally1 men with whom one tries1  
so to speak1 a variety of conversational
 flies1 and who will give one fine sport
 when they are fairly hooked4 ,but      
though a ,university is a place where   
one ought to expect to find abundance of
 the best talk1 the want of leisure     
among the present generation of ,dons is
 a serious bar to interesting talk4 ,by 
the evening the majority of ,dons are   
apt to be tired4 ,they have been hard at
 work most of the day1 and they look    
upon the sociable evening hours as a    
time to be given up to what the ,scotch 

call daffing2 that is to say1 a sort of 
nimble interchange of humorous or       
interesting gossip2 a man who pursues a 
subject intently is apt to be thought a 
bore4 ,i think that the middle-aged ,don
 is apt to be less interesting than     
either the elderly or the youthful ,don4
 ,the middle-aged ,don is1 like all     
successful professional men1 full to the
 brim of affairs4 ,he has little time   
for general reading4 ,he lectures1 he   
attends meetings1 his table is covered  
with papers1 and his leisure hours are  
full of interviews4 ,but the younger    
,don is generally less occupied and more
 enthusiastic2 and best of all is the   
elderly ,don1 who is beginning to take  
things more easily1 has a knowledge of  
men1 a philosophy and a good-humoured   
tolerance which makes him more          
accessible4 ,he is not in a hurry1 he is
 not preoccupied4 ,he studies the daily 
papers with deliberation1 and he has    
just enough duties to make him feel     
wholesomely busy4 ,his ambitions are    

things of the past1 and he is gratified 
by attention and deference4  ,i suppose 
the same is the case1 in a certain      
degree1 all the world over4 ,but the    
truth about conversation is that1 to    
make anything of it1 people must realize
 it as a definite mental occupation1 and
 not merely a dribbling into words of   
casual thoughts4 ,to do it well implies 
a certain deliberate intention1 a       
certain unselfishness1 a certain zest4  
,the difficulty is that it demands a    
catholicity of interests1 a full mind4  
,yet it does not do to have a subject on
 the brain1 and to introduce it into all
 companies4 ,the pity is that           
conversation is not more recognized as a
 definite accomplishment4 ,people who   
care about the success of social        
gatherings are apt to invite an         
instrumentalist or a singer1 or a man   
with what may be called parlour tricks2 
but few people are equally careful to   
plant out two or three                  
conversationalists among their parties1 

or to take care that their              
conversationalists are provided with a  
sympathetic background4  ,for the fact  
remains that conversation is a real art1
 and depends like all other arts upon   
congenial circumstances and suitable    
surroundings4 ,people are too apt to    
believe that1 because they have         
interests in their minds and can put    
those interests into words1 they are    
equipped for the pretty and delicate    
game of talk4 ,but a rare admixture of  
qualities is needed1 and a subtle       
conversational effect1 a sudden fancy1  
that throws a charming or a bizarre     
light on a subject1 a power of pleasing 
metaphorical expression1 the            
communication of an imaginative interest
 to a familiar topic--all these things  
are of the nature of instinctive art4 ,i
 have heard well-informed and sensible  
people talk of a subject in a way that  
made me feel that ,i desired never to   
hear it mentioned again2 but ,i have    
heard1 on the other hand1 people talk of

 matters which ,i had believed to be    
worn threadbare by use1 and yet         
communicate a rich colour1 a fragrant   
sentiment to them1 which made me feel   
that ,i had never thought adequately on 
the topic before4 ,one should be        
careful1 ,i think1 to express to such   
persons one's appreciation and          
admiration of their gifts1 for the art  
is so rare that we ought to welcome it  
when we find it2 and1 like all arts1 it 
depends to a great extent for its       
sustenance on the avowed gratitude of   
those who enjoy it4 ,it is on these     
subtle half-toned glimpses of           
personality and difference that most of 
our happy impressions of life depend2   
and no one can afford wilfully to       
neglect sources of innocent joy1 or to  
lose opportunities of pleasure through a
 stupid or brutal contempt for the      
slender resources out of which these    
gentle effects are produced4     ,,vi   
,,beauty   ,i was visited1 as ,i sate in
 my room to-day1 by one of those sudden 

impressions of rare beauty that come and
 go like flashes1 and which leave one   
desiring a similar experience4 ,the     
materials of the impression were simple 
and familiar enough4 ,my room looks out 
into a little court2 there is a plot of 
grass1 and to the right of it an old    
stone-built wall1 close against which   
stands a row of aged lime-trees4        
,straight opposite1 at right angles to  
the wall1 is the east side of the ,hall1
 with its big plain traceried window    
enlivened with a few heraldic shields of
 stained glass4 ,while ,i was looking   
out to-day there came a flying burst of 
sun1 and the little corner became a     
sudden feast of delicate colour2 the    
fresh green of the grass1 the foliage of
 the lime-trees1 their brown wrinkled   
stems1 the pale moss on the walls1 the  
bright points of colour in the          
emblazonries of the window1 made a      
sudden delicate harmony of tints4 ,i had
 seen the place a hundred times before  
without ever guessing what a perfect    

picture it made4  ,what a strange power 
the perception of beauty is6 ,it seems  
to ebb and flow like some secret tide1  
independent alike of health or disease1 
of joy or sorrow4 ,there are times in   
our lives when we seem to go singing on 
our way1 and when the beauty of the     
world sits itself like a quiet harmony  
to the song we uplift4 ,then again come 
seasons when all is well with us1 when  
we are prosperous and contented1        
interested in life and all its concerns1
 when no perception of beauty comes near
 us2 when we are tranquil and content1  
and take no heed of the delicate visions
 of the day2 when music has no inner    
voice1 and poetry seems a mere cheerful 
jingling of ordered phrases4 ,then again
 we have a time of gloom and dreariness2
 work has no interest1 pleasure no      
savour2 we go about our business and our
 delight alike in a leaden mood of      
dulness2 and yet again1 when we are     
surrounded with care and trouble1       
perhaps in pain or weakness of body1    

there flashes into the darkened life an 
exquisite perception of things beautiful
 and rare2 the vision of a spring copse 
with all its tapestry of flowers1 bright
 points of radiant colour1 fills us with
 a strange yearning1 a delightful pain2 
in such a mood a few chords of music1   
the haunting melody of some familiar    
line of verse1 the song of a bird at    
dawn1 the light of sunset on lonely     
fields1 thrill us with an inexpressible 
rapture4 ,perhaps some of those who read
 these words will say that it is all an 
unreal1 a fantastic experience of which 
,i speak4 ,of course there are many     
tranquil1 wholesome1 equable natures to 
whom such an experience is unknown2 but 
it is to me one of the truest and       
commonest things of my life to be       
visited by this strange perception and  
appreciation of beauty1 which gives the 
days in which ,i am conscious of it a   
memorable quality1 that seems to make   
them the momentous days of my life2 and 
yet again the mood is so utterly        

withdrawn at intervals1 that the        
despondent spirit feels that it can     
never return2 and then a new day dawns1 
and the sense comes back again to bless 
me4  ,if the emotion which ,i describe  
followed the variations of bodily       
health2 if it came when all was         
prosperous and joyful1 and was withdrawn
 when the light was low2 if it deserted 
me in seasons of robust vigour1 and came
 when the bodily vitality was depressed1
 ,i could refer it to some physical     
basis4 ,but it contradicts all material 
laws1 and seems to come and go with a   
whimsical determination of its own4     
,when it is with me1 nothing can banish 
it2 it pulls insistently at my elbow2 it
 diverts my attention in the midst of   
the gravest business2 and1 on the other 
hand1 no extremity of sorrow or gloom   
can suspend it4 ,i have stood beside the
 grave of one ,i loved1 with the shadow 
of urgent business1 of hard detailed    
arrangements of a practical kind1       
hanging over me1 with the light gone out

 of life1 and the prospect unutterably  
dreary2 and yet the strange spirit has  
been with me1 so that a strain of music 
should have power to affect me to tears1
 and the delicate petals of the very    
funeral wreaths should draw me into a   
rapturous contemplation of their fresh  
curves1 their lovely intricacy1 their   
penetrating fragrance4 ,in such a moment
 one could find it in one's heart to    
believe that some ethereal soulless     
creature1 like ,ariel of the ,tempest1  
was floating at one's side1 directing   
one's attention1 like a petulant child1 
to the things that touched its          
light-hearted fancy1 and constraining   
one into an unsought enjoyment4         
,neither does it seem to be an          
intellectual process2 because it comes  
in the same self-willed way1 alike when 
one's mind is deeply engrossed in       
congenial work1 as well as when one is  
busy and distracted2 one raises one's   
head for an instant1 and the sunlight on
 a flowing water or on an ancient wall1 

the sound of the wind among trees1 the  
calling of birds1 take one captive with 
the mysterious spell2 or on another day 
when ,i am working1 under apparently the
 same conditions1 the sun may fall      
golden on the old garden1 the dove may  
murmur in the high elm1 the daffodils   
may hang their sweet heads among the    
meadow-grass1 and yet the scene1 may be 
dark to me and silent1 with no charm and
 no significance4  ,it all seems to     
enact itself in a separate region of the
 spirit1 neither in the physical nor in 
the mental region4 ,it may come for a   
few moments in a day1 and then it may   
depart in an instant4 ,i was taking a   
week ago what1 for the sake of the      
associations1 ,i call my holiday4 ,i    
walked with a cheerful companion among  
spring woods1 lying nestled in the folds
 and dingles of the ,sussex hills2 the  
sky was full of flying gleams2 the      
distant ridges1 clothed in wood1 lay    
blue and remote in the warm air2 but ,i 
cared for none of these things4 ,then1  

when we stood for a moment in a place   
where ,i have stood a hundred times     
before1 where a full stream spills      
itself over a pair of broken lock-gates 
into a deserted lock1 where the         
stonecrop grows among the masonry1 and  
the alders root themselves among the    
mouldering brickwork1 the mood came upon
 me1 and ,i felt like a thirsty soul    
that has found a bubbling spring coming 
out cool from its hidden caverns on the 
hot hillside4 ,the sight1 the sound1 fed
 and satisfied my spirit2 and yet ,i had
 not known that ,i had needed anything4 
,that it is1 ,i will not say1 a wholly  
capricious thing1 but a thing that      
depends upon a certain harmony of mood1 
is best proved by the fact that the same
 poem or piece of music which can at one
 time evoke the sensation most          
intensely1 will at another time fail to 
convey the slightest hint of charm1 so  
that one can even wonder in a dreary way
 what it could be that one had ever     
admired and loved4 ,but it is this very 

evanescent quality which gives me a     
certain sense of security4 ,if one reads
 the lives of people with strong        
aesthetic perceptions1 such as          
,rossetti1 ,pater1 ,j4 ,a4 ,symonds1 one
 feels that these natures ran a certain 
risk of being absorbed in delicate      
perception4 ,one feels that a sensation 
of beauty was to them so rapturous a    
thing that they ran the risk of making  
the pursuit of such sensations the one  
object and business of their existence2 
of sweeping the waters of life with busy
 nets1 in the hope of entangling some   
creature of bright hue and sharp fin2 of
 considering the days and hours that    
were unvisited by such perceptions      
barren and dreary4 ,this is1 ,i cannot  
help feeling1 a dangerous business2 it  
is to make of the soul nothing but a    
delicate instrument for registering     
aesthetic perceptions2 and the result is
 a loss of balance and proportion1 an   
excess of sentiment4 ,the peril is that1
 as life goes on1 and as the perceptive 

faculty gets blunted and jaded1 a mood  
of pessimism creeps over the mind4      
,from this ,i am personally saved by the
 fact that the sense of beauty is1 as ,i
 have said1 so whimsical in its         
movements4 ,i should never think of     
setting out deliberately to capture     
these sensations1 because it would be so
 futile a task4 ,no kind of occupation1 
however prosaic1 however absorbing1     
seems to be either favourable to this   
perception1 or the reverse4 ,it is not  
even like bodily health1 which has its  
variations1 but is on the whole likely  
to result from a certain defined regime 
of diet1 exercise1 and habits2 and what 
would still more preserve me from making
 a deliberate attempt to capture it     
would be that it comes perhaps most     
poignantly and insistently of all when  
,i am uneasy1 overstrained1 and         
melancholy4 ,no6 the only thing to do is
 to live one's life without reference to
 it1 to be thankful when it comes1 and  
to be contented when it is withdrawn4   

,i sometimes think that a great deal of 
stuff is both written and talked about  
the beauties of nature4 ,by this ,i do  
not mean for a moment that nature is    
less beautiful than is supposed1 but    
that many of the rapturous expressions  
one hears and sees used about the       
enjoyment of nature are very insincere2 
though it is equally true on the other  
hand that a great deal of genuine       
admiration of natural beauty is not     
expressed1 perhaps hardly consciously   
felt4 ,to have a true and deep          
appreciation of nature demands a certain
 poetical force1 which is rare2 and a   
great many people who have a            
considerable power of expression1 but   
little originality1 feel bound to expend
 a portion of this upon expressing an   
admiration for nature which they do not 
so much actually feel as think          
themselves bound to feel1 because they  
believe that people in general expect it
 of them4  ,but on the other hand there 
is1 ,i am sure1 in the hearts of many   

quiet people a real love for and delight
 in the beauty of the kindly earth1 the 
silent and exquisite changes1 the influx
 and efflux of life1 which we call the  
seasons1 the rich transfiguring         
influences of sunrise and sunset1 the   
slow or swift lapse of clear streams1   
the march and plunge of sea-billows1 the
 bewildering beauty and aromatic scents 
of those delicate toys of ,god which we 
call flowers1 the large air and the sun1
 the star-strewn spaces of the night4   
,those who are fortunate enough to spend
 their lives in the quiet country-side  
have much of this tranquil and unuttered
 love of nature2 and others again1 who  
are condemned by circumstances to spend 
their days in toilsome towns1 and yet   
have the instinct1 derived perhaps from 
long generations of country forefathers1
 feel this beauty1 in the short weeks   
when they are enabled to approach it1   
more poignantly still4  ,fitz,gerald    
tells a story of how he went to see     
,thomas ,carlyle in ,london1 and sate   

with him in a room at the top of his    
house1 with a wide prospect of          
house-backs and chimney-pots2 and how   
the sage reviled and vituperated the    
horrors of city life1 and yet left on   
,fitz,gerald's mind the impression that 
perhaps after all he did not really wish
 to leave it4  ,the fact remains1       
however1 that a love of nature is part  
of the panoply of cultivation which at  
the present time people above a certain 
social standing feel bound to assume4   
,very few ordinary persons would care to
 avow that they took no interest in     
national politics1 in games and sport1  
in literature1 in appreciation of       
nature1 or in religion4 ,as a matter of 
fact the vital interest that is taken in
 these subjects1 except perhaps in games
 and sport1 is far below the interest   
that is expressed in them4 ,a person who
 said frankly that he thought that any  
of these subjects were uninteresting1   
tiresome or absurd1 would be thought    
stupid or affected1 even brutal4        

,probably most of the people who express
 a deep concern for these things believe
 that they are giving utterance to a    
sincere feeling2 but not to expatiate on
 the emotions which they mistake for the
 real emotion in the other departments1 
there are probably a good many people   
who mistake for a love of nature the    
pleasure of fresh air1 physical         
movement1 and change of scene4 ,many    
worthy golfers1 for instance1 who do not
 know that they are speaking            
insincerely1 attribute1 in conversation1
 the pleasure they feel in pursuing     
their game to the agreeable surroundings
 in which it is pursued2 but my secret  
belief is that they pay more attention  
to the lie of the little white ball1 and
 the character of bunkers1 than to the  
pageantry of sea and sky4  ,as with all 
other refined pleasures1 there is no    
doubt that the pleasure derived from the
 observation of nature can be1 if not   
acquired1 immensely increased by        
practice4 ,i am not now speaking of the 

pursuit of natural history but the      
pursuit of natural emotion4 ,the thing  
to aim at1 as is the case with all      
artistic pleasures1 is the perception of
 quality1 of small effects4 ,many of the
 people ,who believe themselves to have 
an appreciation of natural scenery      
cannot appreciate it except on a        
sensational scale4 ,they can derive a   
certain pleasure from wide prospects of 
startling beauty1 rugged mountains1     
steep gorges1 great falls of water--all 
the things that are supposed to be      
picturesque4 ,but though this is all    
very well as far as it goes1 it is a    
very elementary kind of thing4 ,the     
perception of which ,i speak is a       
perception which can be fed in the most 
familiar scene1 in the shortest stroll1 
even in a momentary glance from a       
window4 ,the things to look out for are 
little accidents of light and colour1   
little effects of chance grouping1 the  
transfiguration of some well-known and  
even commonplace object1 such as is     

produced by the sudden burst into       
greenness of the trees that peep over   
some suburban garden wall1 or by the    
sunlight falling1 by a happy fortune1 on
 pool or flower4 ,much of course depends
 upon the inner mood2 there are days    
when it seems impossible to be thrilled 
by anything1 when a perverse dreariness 
holds the mind2 and then all of a sudden
 the gentle and wistful mood flows back1
 and the world is full of beauty to the 
brim4  ,here1 if anywhere1 in this town 
of ancient colleges1 is abundant        
material of beauty for eye and mind4 ,it
 is not1 it is true1 the simple beauty  
of nature2 but nature has been invoked  
to sanctify and mellow art4 ,these      
stately stone-fronted buildings have    
weathered like crags and precipices4    
,they rise out of dark ancient embowered
 gardens4 ,they are like bright birds of
 the forest dwelling contentedly in     
gilded cages4 ,these great palaces of   
learning1 beautiful when seen in the    
setting of sunny gardens1 and with even 

a sterner dignity when planted1 like a  
fortress of quiet1 close to the very    
dust and din of the street1 hold many   
treasures of stately loveliness and fair
 association2 this city of palaces1     
thick-set with spires and towers1 as    
rich and dim as ,camelot1 is invested   
with a romance that few cities can      
equal2 and then the waterside           
pleasaunces with their trim alleys1     
their air of ancient security and       
wealthy seclusion1 have an incomparable 
charm2 day by day1 as one hurries or    
saunters through the streets1 the charm 
strikes across the mind with an         
incredible force1 a newness of          
impression which is the test of the     
highest beauty4 ,yet these again are    
beauties of a sensational order which   
beat insistently upon the dullest mind4 
,the true connoisseur of natural beauty 
acquiesces in1 nay prefers1 an economy1 
an austerity of effect4 ,the curve of a 
wood seen a hundred times before1 the   
gentle line of a fallow1 a little pool  

among the pastures1 fringed with rushes1
 the long blue line of the distant      
downs1 the cloud-perspective1 the still 
sunset glow--these will give him ever   
new delights1 and delights that grow    
with observation and intuition4  ,i have
 spoken hitherto of nature as she       
appears2 to the unruffled1 the          
perceptive mind2 but let us further     
consider what relation nature can bear  
to the burdened heart and the           
overshadowed mood4 ,is there indeed a   
vis medicatrix in nature which can heal 
our grief and console our anxieties8    
,the country for a wounded heart says   
the old proverb4 ,is that indeed true8  
,i am here inclined to part company with
 wise men and poets who have spoken and 
sung of the consoling power of nature4  
,i think it is not so4 ,it is true that 
anything which we love very deeply has a
 certain power of distracting the mind4 
,but ,i think there is no greater agony 
than to be confronted with tranquil     
passionate beauty1 when the heart and   

spirit are out of tune with it4 ,in the 
days of one's joy1 nature laughs with   
us2 in the days of vague and fantastic  
melancholy1 there is an air of          
wistfulness1 of mystery1 that ministers 
to our luxurious sadness4 ,but when one 
bears about the heavy burden of a       
harassing anxiety of sorrow1 then the   
smile on the face of nature has         
something poisonous1 almost maddening   
about it4 ,it breeds an emotion that is 
like the rage of ,othello when he looks 
upon the face of ,desdemona1 and        
believes her false4 ,nature has no      
sympathy1 no pity4 ,she has her work to 
do1 and the swift and bright process    
goes on2 she casts her failures aside   
with merciless glee2 she seems to say to
 men oppressed by sorrow and sickness1  
,this is no world for you2 rejoice and  
make merry1 or ,i have no need of you4  
,in a far-off way1 indeed1 the gentle   
beauty of nature may help a sad heart1  
by seeming to assure one that the mind  
of ,god is set upon what is fair and    

sweet2 but neither ,god nor nature seems
 to have any direct message to the      
stricken heart4       ,not till the fire
 is dying in the grate      ,look we for
 any kinship with the stars1  says a    
subtle poet2 and such comfort as nature 
can give is not the direct comfort of   
sympathy and tenderness1 but only the   
comfort that can be resolutely distilled
 from the contemplation of nature by    
man's indomitable spirit4 ,for nature   
tends to replace rather than to heal2   
and the sadness of life consists for    
most of us in the irreplaceableness of  
the things we love and lose4 ,the lesson
 is a hard one1 that ,nature tolerates1 
she does not need4 ,let us only be sure 
that it is a true one1 for nothing but  
the truth can give us ultimate repose4  
,to the youthful spirit it is different1
 for all that the young and ardent need 
is that1 if the old fails them1 some new
 delight should be substituted4 ,they   
but desire that the truth should be     
hidden from their gaze2 as in the       

childish stories1 when the hero and     
heroine have been safely piloted through
 danger and brought into prosperity1 the
 door is closed with a snap4 ,they lived
 happily ever afterwards4 ,but the older
 spirit knows that the ever must be     
deleted1 makes question of the          
afterwards1 and looks through to the old
 age of bereavement and sorrow1 when the
 two must again be parted4  ,but ,i     
would have every one who cares to       
establish a wise economy of life and    
joy1 cultivate1 by all means in his     
power1 a sympathy with and a delight in 
nature4 ,we tend1 in this age of ours1  
when communication is so easy and rapid1
 when the daily paper brings the whole  
course of the world into our secluded   
libraries1 to be too busy1 too much     
preoccupied2 to value excitement1 above 
tranquillity1 and interest above peace4 
,it is good for us all to be much alone1
 not to fly from society1 but resolutely
 to determine that we will not be       
dependent upon it for our comfort4 ,i   

would have all busy people make times in
 their lives when1 at the cost of some  
amusement1 and paying the price perhaps 
of a little melancholy1 they should try 
to be alone with nature and their own   
hearts4 ,they should try to realize the 
quiet unwearying life that manifests    
itself in field and wood4 ,they should  
wander alone in solitary places1 where  
the hazel-hidden stream makes music1 and
 the bird sings out of the heart of the 
forest2 in meadows where the flowers    
grow brightly1 or through the copse1    
purple with bluebells or starred with   
anemones2 or they may climb the crisp   
turf of the down1 and see the wonderful 
world lie spread out beneath their feet1
 with some clustering town smouldering  
and glittering in the distance2 or lie  
upon the cliff-top1 with the fields of  
waving wheat behind1 and the sea spread 
out like a wrinkled marble floor in     
front2 or walk on the sand beside the   
falling waves4 ,perhaps a soi-disant    
sensible man may see these words and    

think that ,i am a sad sentimentalist4  
,i cannot help it2 it is what ,i        
believe2 nay1 ,i will go further1 and   
say that a man who does not wish to do  
these things is shutting one of the     
doors of his spirit1 a door through     
which many sweet and true things come   
in4 ,consider the lilies of the field   
said long ago ,one whom we profess to   
follow as our ,guide and ,master4 ,and a
 quiet receptiveness1 an openness of    
eye1 a simple readiness to take in these
 gentle impressions is1 ,i believe with 
all my heart1 of the essence of true    
wisdom4 ,we have all of us our work to  
do in the world2 but we have our lesson 
to learn as well4 ,the man with the     
muck-rake in the old parable1 who raked 
together the straws and the dust of the 
street1 was faithful enough if he was   
set to do that lowly work2 but had he   
only cared to look up1 had he only had a
 moment's leisure1 he would have seen   
that the celestial crown hung close     
above his head1 and within reach of his 

forgetful hand4  ,there is a well-known 
passage in a brilliant modern satire1   
where a trenchant satirist declares that
 he has tracked all human emotions to   
their lair1 and has discovered that they
 all consist of some dilution of primal 
and degrading instincts4 ,but the pure  
and passionless love of natural beauty  
can have nothing that is acquisitive or 
reproductive about it4 ,there is no     
physical instinct to which it can be    
referred2 it arouses no sense of        
proprietorship2 it cannot be connected  
with any impulse for self-preservation4 
,if it were merely aroused by tranquil1 
comfortable amenities of scene1 it might
 be referable to the general sense of   
well-being1 and of contented life under 
pleasant conditions4 ,but it is aroused 
just as strongly by prospects that are  
inimical to life and comfort1 lashing   
storms1 inaccessible peaks1 desolate    
moors1 wild sunsets1 foaming seas4 ,it  
is a sense of wonder1 of mystery2 it    
arouses a strange and yearning desire   

for we know not what2 very often a rich 
melancholy attends it1 which is yet not 
painful or sorrowful1 but heightens and 
intensifies the significance1 the value 
of life4 ,i do not know how to interpret
 it1 but it seems to me to be a call    
from without1 a beckoning of some large 
and loving power to the soul4 ,the      
primal instincts of which ,i have spoken
 all tend to concentrate the mind upon  
itself1 to strengthen it for a selfish  
part2 but the beauty of nature seems to 
be a call to the spirit to come forth1  
like the voice which summoned ,lazarus  
from the rock-hewn sepulchre4 ,it bids  
us to believe that our small identities1
 our limited desires1 do not say the    
last word for us1 but that there is     
something larger and stronger outside1  
in which we may claim a share4 ,as ,i   
write these words ,i look out upon a    
strange transfiguration of a familiar   
scene4 ,the sky is full of black and    
inky clouds1 but from the low setting   
sun there pours an intense pale         

radiance1 which lights up house-roofs1  
trees1 and fields1 with a white light2 a
 flight of pigeons1 wheeling high in the
 air1 become brilliant specks of moving 
light upon a background of dark rolling 
vapour4 ,what is the meaning of the     
intense and rapturous thrill that this  
sends through me8 ,it is no selfish     
delight1 no personal profit that it     
gives me4 ,it promises me nothing1 it   
sends me nothing but a deep and         
mysterious satisfaction1 which seems to 
make light of my sullen and petty moods4
  ,i was reading the other day1 in a    
strange book1 of the influence of magic 
upon the spirit1 the vague dreams of the
 deeper mind that could be awakened by  
the contemplation of symbols4 ,it seemed
 to me to be unreal and fantastic1 a    
manufacturing of secrets1 a playing of  
whimsical tricks with the mind2 and yet 
,i ought not to say that1 because it was
 evidently written in good faith4 ,but  
,i have since reflected that it is true 
in a sense of all those who are         

sensitive to the influences of the      
spirit4 ,nature has a magic for many of 
us--that is to say1 a secret power that 
strikes across our lives at intervals1  
with a message from an unknown region4  
,and this message is aroused too by     
symbols2 a tree1 a flash of light on    
lonely clouds1 a flower1 a              
stream--simple things that we have seen 
a thousand times--have sometimes the    
power to cast a spell over our spirit1  
and to bring something that is great and
 incommunicable near us4 ,this must be  
called magic1 for it is not a thing     
which can be explained by ordinary laws1
 or defined in precise terms2 but the   
spell is there1 real1 insistent1        
undeniable2 it seems to make a bridge   
for the spirit to pass into a far-off1  
dimly apprehended region2 it gives us a 
sense of great issues and remote        
visions2 it leaves us with a longing    
which has no mortal fulfilment4  ,these 
are of course merely idiosyncrasies of  
perception2 but it is a far more        

difficult task to attempt to indicate   
what the perception of beauty is1 and   
whence the mind derives the unhesitating
 canons with which it judges and        
appraises beauty4 ,the reason1 ,i       
believe1 why the sense is weaker than it
 need be in many people1 is that1       
instead of trusting their own instinct  
in the matter1 they from their earliest 
years endeavour to correct their        
perception of what is beautiful by the  
opinions of other people1 and to        
superimpose on their own taste the taste
 of others4 ,i myself hold strongly that
 nothing is worth admiring which is not 
admired sincerely4 ,of course1 one must 
not form one's opinions too early1 or   
hold them arrogantly or                 
self-sufficiently4 ,if one finds a large
 number of people admiring or professing
 to admire a certain class of objects1 a
 certain species of scene1 one ought to 
make a resolute effort to see what it is
 that appeals to them4 ,but there ought 
to come a time1 when one has imbibed    

sufficient experience1 when one should  
begin to decide and to distinguish1 and 
to form one's own taste4 ,and then ,i   
believe it is better to be individual   
than catholic1 and better to attempt to 
feed one's own genuine sense of         
preference1 than to continue attempting 
to correct it by the standard of other  
people4  ,it remains that the whole     
instinct for admiring beauty is one of  
the most mysterious experiences of the  
mind4 ,there are certain things1 like   
the curves and colours of flowers1 the  
movements of young animals1 that seem to
 have a perennial attraction for the    
human spirit4 ,but the enjoyment of     
natural scenery1 at all events of wild  
and rugged prospects1 seems hardly to   
have existed among ancient writers1 and 
to have originated as late as the       
eighteenth century4 ,dr4 ,johnson spoke 
of mountains with disgust1 and ,gray    
seems to have been probably the first   
man who deliberately cultivated a       
delight in the sight of those monstrous 

creatures of ,god1 as he calls          
mountains4 ,till his time1 the emotions 
that nodding rocks and cascades gave our
 forefathers seem mostly to have been   
emotions of terror2 but ,gray seems to  
have had a perception of the true       
quality of landscape beauty1 as indeed  
that wonderful1 chilly1 unsatisfied1    
critical nature seems to have had of    
almost everything4 ,his letters are full
 of beautiful vignettes1 and it pleases 
me to think that he visited ,rydal and  
thought it beautiful1 about the time    
that ,wordsworth first drew breath4     
,but the perception of beauty in art1 in
 architecture1 in music1 is a far more  
complicated thing1 for there seem to be 
no fixed canons here2 what one needs in 
art1 for instance1 is not that things   
should be perfectly seen and accurately 
presented2 a picture of hard fidelity is
 often entirely displeasing2 but one    
craves for a certain sense of           
personality1 of emotion1 of inner truth2
 something that seizes tyrannously upon 

the soul1 and makes one desire more of  
the intangible and indescribable        
essence4  ,i always feel that the       
instinct for beauty is perhaps the      
surest indication of some essence of    
immortality in the soul2 and indeed     
there are moments when it gives one the 
sense of pre-existence1 the feeling that
 one has loved these fair things in a   
region that is further back even than   
the beginnings of consciousness4 ,blake1
 indeed1 in one of his wild             
half-inspired utterances1 went even     
further1 and announced that a man's     
hopes of immortality depended not upon  
virtuous conduct but upon intellectual  
perception4 ,and it is hard to resist   
the belief1 when one is brought into the
 presence of perfect beauty1 in whatever
 form it may come1 that the deep craving
 it arouses is meant to receive a       
satisfaction more deep and real than the
 act of mere contemplation can give4 ,i 
have felt in such moments as if ,i were 
on the verge of grasping some momentous 

secret1 as if only the thinnest of veils
 hung between me and some knowledge that
 would set my whole life and being on a 
different plane4 ,but the moment passes1
 and the secret delays4 ,yet we are     
right to regard such emotions as direct 
messages from ,god2 because they bring  
with them no desire of possession1 which
 is the sign of mortality1 but rather   
the divine desire to be possessed by    
them2 that the reality1 whatever it be1 
of which beauty is the symbol1 may enter
 in and enthral the soul4 ,it remains a 
mystery1 like all the best things to    
which we draw near4 ,and the joy of all 
mysteries is the certainty which comes  
from their contemplation1 that there are
 many doors yet for the soul to open on 
her upward and inward way2 that we are  
at the threshold and not near the goal2 
and then1 like the glow of sunset1 rises
 the hope that the grave1 far from being
 the gate of death1 may be indeed the   
gate of life4     ,,vii  ,,art   ,i     
often wish that we had a more beautiful 

word than art for so beautiful a thing2 
it is in itself a snappish explosive    
word1 like the cry of an angry animal2  
and it has1 too1 to bear the sad burden 
of its own misuse by affected people4   
,moreover1 it stands for so many things1
 that one is never quite sure what the  
people who use it intend it to mean2    
some people use it in an abstract1 some 
in a concrete sense2 and it is          
unfortunate1 too1 in bearing1 in certain
 usages1 a nuance of unreality and      
scheming4  ,what ,i mean by art1 in its 
deepest and truest sense1 is a certain  
perceptiveness1 a power of seeing what  
is characteristic1 coupled as a rule1 in
 the artistic temperament1 with a       
certain power of expression1 an         
imaginative gift which can raise a large
 fabric out of slender resources1       
building a palace1 like the ,genie in   
the story of ,aladdin1 in a single      
night4  ,the artistic temperament is    
commoner1 ,i think1 than is supposed4   
,most people find it difficult to       

believe in the existence of it1 unless  
it is accompanied by certain fragile    
signs of its existence1 such as         
water-colour drawing1 or a tendency to  
strum on a piano4 ,but1 as a matter of  
fact1 the possession of an artistic     
temperament1 without the power of       
expression1 is one of the commonest     
causes of unhappiness in the world4 ,who
 does not know those ill-regulated1     
fastidious people1 who have a strong    
sense of their own significance and     
position1 a sense which is not justified
 by any particular performance1 who are 
contemptuous of others1 critical1 hard  
to satisfy1 who have a general sense of 
disappointment and dreariness1 a craving
 for recognition1 and a feeling that    
they are not appreciated at their true  
worth8 ,to such people1 sensitive1      
ineffective1 proud1 every circumstance  
of life gives food for discontent4 ,they
 have vague perceptions which they      
cannot translate into words or symbols4 
,they find their work humdrum and       

unexciting1 their relations with others 
tiresome2 they think that under         
different circumstances and in other    
surroundings they might have played a   
braver part2 they never realize that the
 root of their unhappiness lies in      
themselves2 and1 perhaps1 it is merciful
 that they do not1 for the fact that    
they can accumulate blame upon the      
conditions imposed on them by fate is   
the only thing that saves them from     
irreclaimable depression4  ,sometimes1  
again1 the temperament exists with a    
certain power of expression1 but without
 sufficient perseverance or hard        
technical merit to produce artistic     
successes2 and thus we get the amateur4 
,sometimes it is the other way1 and the 
technical power of production is        
developed beyond the inner              
perceptiveness2 and this produces a     
species of dull soulless art1 and the   
role of the professional artist4 ,very  
rarely one sees the outward and the     
inward combined1 but then we get the    

humble1 hopeful artist who lives for and
 in his work2 he is humble because he   
cannot reach the perfection for which he
 strives2 he is hopeful because he gets 
nearer to it day by day4 ,but1 speaking 
generally1 the temperament is not one   
that brings steady happiness2 it brings 
with it moments of rapture1 when some   
bright dream is being realized2 but it  
brings with it also moments of deep     
depression1 when dreams are silent1 and 
the weary brain fears that the light is 
quenched4 ,there are1 indeed1 instances 
of the equable disposition being found  
in connection with the artistic temper2 
such were ,reynolds1 ,handel1           
,wordsworth4 ,but the annals of art are 
crowded with the figures of those who   
have had to bear the doom of art1 and   
have been denied the tranquil spirit4   
,but besides all these1 there are       
artistic temperaments which do not      
express themselves in any of the        
recognized mediums of art1 but which    
apply their powers direct to life       

itself4 ,i do not mean successful1      
professional people1 who win their      
triumphs by a happy sanity and          
directness of view1 to whom labour is   
congenial and success enjoyable2 but ,i 
mean those who have a fine perception of
 quality in innumerable forms2 who are  
interested in the salient points of     
others1 who delight to enter into       
appropriate relations with those they   
meet1 to whom life itself1 its joys and 
sorrows1 its gifts and its losses1 has a
 certain romantic1 beautiful1 mysterious
 savour4 ,such people have a strong     
sense of the significance of their      
relations with others1 they enjoy       
dealing with characters1 with problems1 
with situations4 ,having both interest  
and sympathy1 they get the best out of  
other people2 they pierce through the   
conventional fence that so many of us   
erect as a protection against intrusion4
 ,such people bring the same perception 
to bear on technical art4 ,they enjoy   
books1 art1 music1 without any envious  

desire to produce2 they can enjoy the   
noble pleasure of admiring and praising4
 ,again and again1 in reading the lives 
of artists1 one comes across traces of  
these wise and generous spirits1 who    
have loved the society of artists1 have 
understood them1 and whose admiration   
has never been clouded by the least     
shadow of that jealousy which is the    
curse of most artistic natures4 ,people 
without artistic sensibilities find the 
society of artists trying2 because they 
see only their irritability1 their      
vanity1 their egotism1 and cannot       
sympathize with the visions by which    
they are haunted4 ,but those who can    
understand without jealousy1 pass by the
 exacting vagaries of the artist with a 
gentle and tender compassion1 and evoke 
what is sincere and generous and        
lovable1 without any conscious effort4  
,it is not1 ,i think1 often enough      
realized that the basis of the          
successful artistic temperament is a    
certain hardness combined with great    

superficial sensitiveness4 ,those who   
see the artistic nature swiftly and     
emotionally affected by a beautiful or a
 pathetic thing1 who see that a thought1
 a line of poetry1 a bar of music1 a    
sketch1 will evoke a thrill of feeling  
to which they cannot themselves aspire1 
are apt to think that such a spirit is  
necessarily fair and tender1 and that it
 possesses unfathomable reserves of     
noble feeling4 ,this is often a great   
mistake2 far below the rapid current of 
changing and glittering emotion there   
often lies1 in the artistic nature1 a   
reserve1 not of tenderness or depth1 but
 of cold and critical calm4 ,there are  
very few people who are highly developed
 in one faculty who do not pay for it in
 some other part of their natures4      
,below the emotion itself there sits    
enthroned a hard intellectual force1 a  
power of appraising quality1 a          
,rhadamanthine judgment4 ,it is this    
hardness which has so often made artists
 such excellent men of business1 so     

alert to strike favourable bargains4 ,in
 those artists whose medium is words    
this hardness is not so often detected  
as it is in the case of other artists1  
for they have the power of rhetoric1 the
 power of luxuriously heightening       
impressions1 indeed of imaginatively    
simulating a force which is in reality  
of a superficial nature4 ,one of the    
greatest powers of great artists is that
 of hinting at an emotion which they    
have very possibly never intimately     
gauged4  ,i have sometimes thought that 
this is in all probability the reason   
why women1 with all their power of swift
 impression1 of subtle intuition1 have  
so seldom achieved the highest stations 
in art4 ,it is1 ,i think1 because they  
seldom or never have that calm1 strong  
egotism at the base of their natures1   
which men so constantly have1 and which 
indeed seems almost a condition of      
attaining the highest success in art4   
,the male artist can believe            
whole-heartedly and with entire         

absorption in the value of what he is   
doing1 can realize it as the one end of 
his being1 the object for which his life
 was given him4 ,he can believe that all
 experience1 all relations with others1 
all emotions1 are and must be           
subservient to this one aim2 they can   
deepen for him the channels in which his
 art flows2 they can reveal and         
illustrate to him the significance of   
the world of which he is the            
interpreter4 ,such an aspiration can be 
a very high and holy thing2 it can lead 
a man to live purely and laboriously1 to
 make sacrifices1 to endure hardness4   
,but the altar on which the sacrifice is
 made1 stands1 when all is said and     
done1 before the idol of self4 ,with    
women1 though1 it is different4 ,the    
deepest quality in their hearts is1 one 
may gratefully say1 an intense devotion 
to others1 an unselfishness which is    
unconscious of itself2 and thus their   
aim is to help1 to encourage1 to        
sympathize2 and their artistic gifts are

 subordinated to a deeper purpose1 the  
desire of giving and serving4 ,one with 
such a passion in the heart is incapable
 of believing art to be the deepest     
thing in the world2 it is to such an one
 more like the lily which floats        
upwards1 to bloom on the surface of some
 dim pool1 a thing exquisitely fair and 
symbolical of mysteries2 but all growing
 out of the depths of life1 and not a   
thing which is deeper and truer than    
life4  ,it is useless to try to dive    
deeper than the secrets of personality  
and temperament4 ,one must merely be    
grateful for the beauty which springs   
from them4 ,we must reflect that the    
hard1 vigorous1 hammered quality1 which 
is characteristic of the best art1 can  
only be produced1 in a mood of blind and
 unquestioning faith1 by a temperament  
which believes that such production is  
its highest end4 ,but one who stands a  
little apart from the artistic world1   
and yet ardently loves it1 can see that1
 beautiful as is the dream of the       

artist1 true and pure as his aspiration 
is1 there is yet a deeper mystery of    
life still1 of which art is nothing but 
a symbol and an evidence4 ,perhaps that 
very belief may of itself weaken a man's
 possibilities in art4 ,but1 for myself1
 ,i know that ,i regard the absorption  
in art as a terrible and strong         
temptation for one whose chief pleasure 
lies in the delight of expression1 and  
who seems1 in the zest of shaping a     
melodious sentence to express as        
perfectly and lucidly as possible the   
shape of the thought within1 to touch   
the highest joy of which the spirit is  
capable4 ,a thought1 a scene of beauty  
comes home with an irresistible sense of
 power and meaning to the mind or eye2  
for ,god to have devised the pale liquid
 green of the enamelled evening sky1 to 
have set the dark forms of trees against
 it1 and to have hung a star in the     
thickening gloom--to have done this1 and
 to see that it is good1 seems1 in      
certain moods1 to be the dearest work of

 the ,divine mind2 and the desire to    
express it1 to speak simply of the      
sight1 and of the joy that it arouses1  
comes upon the mind with a sweet agony2 
an irresistible spell2 life would seem  
to have been well spent if one had only 
caught a few such imperishable          
ecstasies1 and written them down in a   
record that might convey the same joy to
 others4 ,but behind this rises the     
deeper conviction that this is not the  
end2 that there are deeper and sweeter  
secrets in the heavenly treasure-house2 
and then comes in the shadow of a fear  
that1 in yielding thus delightedly to   
these imperative joys1 one is blinding  
the inner eye to the perception of the  
remoter and more divine truth4 ,and then
 at last comes the conviction1 in which 
it is possible alike to rest and to     
labour1 that it is right to devote one's
 time and energy to presenting these    
rich emotions as perfectly as they can  
be presented1 so long as one keeps open 
the further avenues of the soul1 and    

believes that art is but one of the     
antechambers through which one must take
 one's faithful way1 before the doors of
 the ,presence itself can be flung wide4
  ,but whether one be of the happy      
number or not who have the haunting     
instinct for some special form of       
expression1 one may learn at all events 
to deal with life in an artistic spirit4
 ,i do not at all mean by that that one 
should learn to overvalue the artistic  
side of life1 to hold personal emotion  
to be a finer thing than unselfish      
usefulness4 ,i mean rather that one     
should aim at the perception of quality1
 the quality of actions1 the quality of 
thoughts1 the quality of character2 that
 one should not be misled by public     
opinion1 that one should not consider   
the value of a man's thoughts to be     
affected by his social position2 but    
that one should look out for and        
appreciate sense1 vigour1 faithfulness1 
kindness1 rectitude1 and originality1 in
 however humble a sphere these qualities

 may be displayed4 ,that one should     
fight hard against conventionality1 that
 one should welcome beauty1 both the    
beauty of natural things1 as well as the
 beauty displayed in sincere and simple 
lives in every rank of life4 ,i have    
heard conventional professional people1 
who thought they were giving utterance  
to manly and independent sentiments1    
speak slightingly of dukes and          
duchesses1 as if the possession of high 
rank necessarily forfeited all claims to
 simplicity and true-heartedness4 ,such 
an attitude is as inartistic and        
offensive as for a duchess to think that
 fine courtesy and consideration could  
not be found among washerwomen4 ,the    
truth is that beauty of character is    
just as common and just as uncommon     
among people of high rank as it is among
 bagmen2 and the only just attitude to  
adopt is to approach all persons simply 
and directly on the grounds of our      
common humanity4 ,one who does this will
 find simplicity1 tenderness1 and       

rectitude among persons of high rank2 he
 will also find conventionality1        
meanness1 and complacency among them2   
when he is brought into contact with    
bagmen1 he will find bagmen of          
sincerity1 directness1 and delicacy1    
while he will also find pompous1        
complacent1 and conventional bagmen4    
,of course the special circumstances of 
any life tend to develop certain innate 
faults of character into prominence2 but
 it may safely be said that             
circumstances never develop a fault that
 is not naturally there2 and1 not to    
travel far for instances1 ,i will only  
say that one of the most unaffected and 
humble-minded persons ,i have ever met  
was a duke1 while one of the proudest   
and most affected ,pharisees ,i ever    
encountered was a servant4 ,it all      
depends upon a consciousness of values1 
a sense of proportion2 the only way in  
which wealth and poverty1 rank and      
insignificance1 can affect a life1 is in
 a certain degree of personal comfort2  

and it is one of the most elementary    
lessons that one can learn1 that it is  
not either wealth or poverty that can   
confer even comfort1 but the sound      
constitution and the contented mind4    
,what ,i would here plead is that the   
artistic sense1 of which ,i have spoken1
 should be deliberately and consciously 
cultivated4 ,it is not an easy thing to 
get rid of conventionality1 if one has  
been brought up on conventional lines2  
but ,i know by personal experience that 
the mere desire for simplicity and      
sincerity can effect something4  ,all   
persons engaged in education1 whether   
formally or informally1 whether as      
professed teachers or parents1 ought to 
regard it as a sacred duty to cultivate 
this sense among the objects of their   
care4 ,they ought to demand that all    
people1 whether high or low1 should be  
met with the same simple courtesy and   
consideration2 they ought to train      
children both to speak their mind1 and  
also to pay respect to the opinion of   

others2 they ought not to insist upon   
obedience1 without giving the reasons   
why it is desirable and necessary2 they 
ought resolutely to avoid malicious     
gossip1 but not the interested          
discussion of other personalities2 they 
ought to follow1 and to give1 direct and
 simple motives for action1 and to      
learn1 if they do not know it1 that it  
is from this simple and quiet           
independence of mind that the best      
blessings1 the best happinesses come2   
above all1 they ought to practise a real
 and perceptive sympathy1 to allow for  
differences of character and taste1 not 
to try so much to form children on the  
model of their own characters1 as to    
encourage them to develop on their own  
lines4 ,to do this completely needs     
wisdom1 tact1 and justice2 but nothing  
can excuse us from attempting it4  ,the 
reason why life is so often made into a 
dull and dreary business for ourselves  
and others1 is that we accept some      
conventional standard of duty and       

rectitude1 and heavily enforce it2 we   
neglect the interest1 the zest1 the     
beauty of life4 ,in my own career as an 
educator1 ,i can truthfully say that    
when ,i arrived at some of the          
perceptions enunciated above1 it made an
 immense difference to me4 ,i saw that  
it was a mistake to coerce1 to correct1 
to enforce2 of course such things have  
to be done occasionally with wilful and 
perverse natures2 but ,i realized1 after
 ,i had gained some practice in dealing 
with boys1 that generous and simple     
praise1 outspoken encouragement1        
admiration1 directness1 could win       
victories that no amount of strictness  
or repression could win4 ,i began to see
 that enthusiasm and interest were the  
contagious things1 and that it was      
possible to sympathize genuinely with   
tastes which one did not share4 ,of     
course there were plenty of failures on 
my own part1 failures of irritability1  
stupidity1 and indolence2 but ,i soon   
realized that these were failures2 and1 

after all1 in education it matters more 
which way one's face is set than how    
fast one proceeds6  ,i seem1 perhaps1 to
 have strayed into the educational point
 of view2 but it is only an instance of 
how the artistic method may be applied  
in a region which is believed by many to
 be remote from the region of art4 ,the 
principle1 after all1 is a very clear   
one2 it is that life can be made with a 
little effort into a beautiful thing2   
that the real ugliness of life consists 
not in its conditions1 not in good or   
bad fortune1 not in joy or sorrow1 not  
in health or illness1 but upon the      
perceptive attitude of mind which we can
 apply to all experiences4 ,everything  
that comes from the hand of ,god has the
 quality of which ,i am speaking2 our   
business is to try to disentangle it    
from the prejudices1 the false          
judgments1 the severities1 the          
heavinesses1 with which human nature    
tends to overlay it4 ,imagine a man     
oppressed by all the ills which humanity

 can suffer1 by shame and disease and   
failure4 ,can it be denied1 in the      
presence of the life of ,christ1 that it
 is yet possible to make out of such a  
situation a noble and a beautiful thing8
 ,and that is the supreme value of the  
example of ,christ to the world1 that   
,he displayed1 if ,i may so speak1 the  
instinct which ,i have described in its 
absolute perfection4 ,he met all        
humanity face to face1 with perfect     
directness1 perfect sympathy1 perfect   
perception4 ,he never ceased to protest1
 with shame and indignation1 against the
 unhappinesses which men bring upon     
themselves1 by the yielding to lower    
desires1 by prejudice1 by complacency2  
but ,he made allowance for weakness1 and
 despaired of none2 and in the presence 
of those darker and sadder afflictions  
of body and spirit1 which it seems that 
,god permits1 if ,he does not authorize1
 ,he bore ,himself with dignity1        
patience1 and confidence2 ,he proved    
that nothing was unbearable1 but that   

the human spirit can face the worst     
calamities with an indomitable          
simplicity1 which adorns it with an     
imperishable beauty1 and proves it to be
 indeed divine4     ,,viii  ,,egotism   
,i had an experience the other day1 very
 disagreeable but most wholesome1 which 
held up for a moment a mirror to my life
 and character4 ,i suppose that1 at     
least once in his life1 every one has   
known what it is1 in some corridor or   
stairway1 to see a figure advancing     
towards him1 and then to discover with a
 shock of surprise that he has been     
advancing to a mirror1 and that the     
stranger is himself4 ,this happened to  
me some short while ago1 and ,i was by  
no means favourably impressed by what ,i
 saw6  ,well1 the other day ,i was      
conducting an argument with an irascible
 man4 ,his temper suddenly boiled over1 
and he said several personal things to  
me1 of which ,i did not at once         
recognize the truth2 but ,i have since  
considered the criticisms1 and have     

decided that they are mainly true1      
heightened perhaps by a little tinge of 
temper4  ,i am sorry my friend said the 
things1 because it is difficult to meet1
 on cordial terms1 a man whom one knows 
to hold an unfavourable opinion of      
oneself4 ,but in one way ,i am glad he  
said them1 because ,i do not think ,i   
could in any other manner have discerned
 the truth4 ,if a friend had said them  
without anger1 he would no doubt have so
 gilded the pill that it would have     
seemed rather a precious ornament than a
 bitter remedy4  ,i will not here say in
 detail what my friend accused me of1   
but it amounted to a charge of egotism2 
and as egotism is a common fault1 and   
particularly common with lonely and     
unmarried men1 ,i will make no excuse   
for propounding a few considerations on 
the point1 and how it may perhaps be    
cured1 or1 if not cured1 at least       
modified4  ,i suppose that the egotist  
is the man who regards the world as a   
setting for himself1 as opposed to the  

man who realizes that he is a small unit
 in a gigantic system4 ,the             
characteristic of the egotist is to     
consider himself of too great           
importance1 while the danger of the     
non-egotist is not sufficiently to      
realize his significance4 ,egotism is   
the natural temptation of all those     
whose individuality is strong2 the man  
of intense desires1 of acute            
perceptions1 of vigorous preferences1 of
 eager temperament1 is in danger of     
trying to construct his life too        
sedulously on his own lines2 and yet    
these are the very people who help other
 people most1 and in whom the hope of   
the race lies4 ,meek1 humble1 timid     
persons1 who accept things as they are1 
who tread in beaten paths1 who are      
easily persuaded1 who are cautious1     
prudent1 and submissive1 leave things   
very much as they find them4 ,i need    
make no attempt at indicating the line  
that such people ought to follow1       
because it is1 unhappily1 certain that  

they will follow the line of least      
resistance1 and that they have no more  
power of initiative than the bricks of a
 wall or the waters of a stream4 ,the   
following considerations will be        
addressed to people of a certain        
vividness of nature1 who have strong    
impulses1 fervent convictions1 vigorous 
desires4 ,i shall try to suggest a      
species of discipline that can be       
practised by such persons1 a line that  
they can follow1 in order that they may 
aim at1 and perhaps attain1 a due       
subordination and co-ordination of      
themselves and their temperaments4  ,to 
treat of intellectual egotism first1 the
 danger that besets such people as ,i   
have described is a want of sympathy    
with other points of view1 and the first
 thing that such natures must aim at1 is
 the getting rid of what ,i will call   
the sectarian spirit4 ,we ought to      
realize that absolute truth is not the  
property of any creed or school or      
nation2 the whole lesson of history is  

the lesson of the danger of affirmation4
 ,the great difference between the      
modern and the ancient world is the     
growth of the scientific spirit1 and the
 meaning and value of evidence4 ,there  
are many kinds of certainties4 ,there is
 the absolute scientific certainty of   
such propositions as that two and two   
make four1 and cannot possibly make     
five4 ,this is of course only the       
principle that two and two ,,cannot be  
said to ,,make four1 but that they ,,are
 four1 and that #b  #b and #d are only  
different ways of describing the same   
phenomenon4 ,then there come the lesser 
certainties1 that is to say1 the        
certainties that justify practical      
action4 ,a man who is aware that he has 
twenty thousand pounds in the hands of  
trustees1 whose duty it is to pay him   
the interest1 is justified in spending a
 certain income2 but he cannot be said  
to know at any moment that the capital  
is there1 because the trustees may have 
absconded with the money1 and the man   

may not have been informed of the fact4 
,the danger of the egotist is that he is
 apt to regard as scientific certainties
 what are only relative certainties2 and
 the first step towards the tolerant    
attitude is to get rid of these         
prejudices as far as possible1 and to   
perceive that the first duty of the     
philosopher is not to deal in           
assumptions1 but to realize that other  
people's regions of what may be called  
practical certainties--that is to say1  
the assurances which justify practical  
action--may be both smaller or even     
larger than his own4 ,the first duty    
then of the man of vivid nature is to   
fight resolutely against the sin of     
impatience4 ,he must realize that some  
people may regard as a certainty what is
 to him a questionable opinion1 and that
 his business is not the destruction of 
the certainties of others1 but the      
defining the limits of his own4 ,the    
sympathy that can be practised          
intellectually is the resolute attempt  

to enter into the position of others4   
,the temptation to argue with people of 
convinced views should be resolutely    
resisted2 argument only strengthens and 
fortifies the convictions of opponents1 
and ,i can honestly say that ,i have    
never yet met a man of strong           
intellectual fibre who was ever         
converted by argument4 ,yet ,i am sure  
that it is a duty for all of us to aim  
at a just appreciation of various points
 of view1 and that we ought to try to   
understand others rather than to        
persuade them4  ,so far ,i have been    
speaking of the intellectual region1 and
 ,i would sum it up by saying that ,i   
think that the duty of every thoughtful 
person1 who desires to avoid egotism in 
the intellectual region1 is to cultivate
 what may be called the scientific1 or  
even the sceptical spirit1 to weigh     
evidence1 and not to form conclusions   
without evidence4 ,thus one avoids the  
dangers of egotism best1 because egotism
 is the frame of mind of the man who    

says credo quia credo4 ,whereas the aim 
of the philosopher should be to take    
nothing for granted1 and to be ready to 
give up personal preferences in the     
light of truth4 ,in dealing with others 
in the intellectual region1 the object  
should be not to convince1 but to get   
people to state their own views1 and to 
realize that unless a man converts      
himself1 no one else can2 the method    
therefore should be not to attack       
conclusions1 but to ask patiently for   
the evidence upon which those           
conclusions are based4  ,but there is a 
danger in lingering too long in the     
intellectual regions2 the other regions 
of the human spirit may be called the   
aesthetic and the mystical regions4 ,to 
take the aesthetic region next1 the duty
 of the philosopher is to realize at the
 outset that the perception of beauty is
 essentially an individual thing1 and   
that the canons of what are called good 
taste are of all things the most        
shifting4 ,in this region the danger of 

dogmatism is very great1 because the    
more that a man indulges the rapturous  
perception of the beauty that appeals to
 himself1 the more likely he is to      
believe that there is no beauty outside 
of his own perceptions4 ,the duty of a  
man who wishes to avoid egotism in this 
region is to try and recognize faithful 
conception and firm execution           
everywhere2 to realize that half1 and   
more than half1 of the beauty of        
everything is the beauty of age1        
remoteness1 and association4 ,there is  
no temptation so strong for the         
aesthetic nature1 as to deride and      
contemn the beauty of the art that we   
have just outgrown4 ,to take a simple   
case4 ,the ,early ,victorian            
upholsterers derided the stiffness and  
austerity of ,queen ,anne furniture1 and
 the public genuinely admired the florid
 and rococo forms of ,early ,victorian  
art4 ,a generation passed1 and ,early   
,victorian art was relentlessly derided1
 while the ,queen ,anne was reinstalled4

 ,now there are signs of a growing      
tolerance among connoisseurs of the     
,early ,victorian taste again4 ,the     
truth is that there is no absolute      
beauty in either2 that the thing to aim 
at is progress and development in art1  
and that probably the most dangerous and
 decadent sign of all is the reverting  
to the beauty of a previous age rather  
than striking out a new line of our own4
 ,the aim then of the man who would     
avoid aesthetic egotism should be1 not  
to lay down canons of what is or what is
 not good art1 but to try to recognize1 
as ,i have said1 faithful conception and
 firm execution wherever he can discern 
it2 and1 for himself1 to express as     
vividly as he can his own keenest and   
acutest perceptions of beauty4 ,the only
 beauty that is worth anything1 is the  
beauty perceived in sincerity1 and here 
again the secret lies in resolutely     
abstaining from laying down laws1 from  
judging1 from condemning4 ,the victory  
always remains with those who admire1   

rather than with those who deride1 and  
the power of appreciating is worth any  
amount of the power of despising4  ,and 
now we pass to the third and most       
intangible region of the spirit1 the    
region that ,i will call the mystical   
region4 ,this is in a sense akin to the 
aesthetic region1 because it partly     
consists in the appreciation of beauty  
in ethical things4 ,here the danger of  
the vivid personality is to let his     
preferences be his guide1 and to contemn
 certain types of character1 certain    
qualities1 certain modes of thought1    
certain points of view4 ,here again     
one's duty is plain4 ,it is the resolute
 avoidance of the critical attitude1 the
 attempt to disentangle the golden      
thread1 the nobility1 the purity1 the   
strength1 the intensity1 that may       
underlie characters and views that do   
not superficially appeal to oneself4    
,the philosopher need not seek the      
society of uncongenial persons3 such a  
practice is a useless expenditure of    

time and energy2 but no one can avoid a 
certain contact with dissimilar natures1
 and the aim of the philosopher must be 
to try and do sympathetic justice to    
them1 to seek earnestly for points of   
contact1 rather than to attempt to      
emphasize differences4 ,for instance1 if
 the philosopher is thrown into the     
society of a man who can talk nothing   
but motor jargon or golfing shop--,i    
select the instances of the conversation
 that is personally to me the           
dreariest--he need not attempt to talk  
of golf or motors1 and he is equally    
bound not to discourse of his own chosen
 intellectual interests2 but he ought to
 endeavour to find a common region1 in  
which he can meet the golfer or the     
motorist without mutual dreariness4     
,perhaps it may be thought that ,i have 
drifted out of the mystical region1 but 
it is not so1 for the relations of human
 beings with each other appear to me to 
belong to this region4 ,the strange     
affinities and hostilities of           

temperament1 the inexplicable and       
undeniable thing called charm1 the      
attraction and repulsion of             
character--all this is in the mystical  
region of the spirit1 the region of     
intuition and instinct1 which is a far  
stronger1 more vital1 and more general  
region than the intellectual or the     
artistic4 ,and further1 there comes the 
deepest intuition of all1 the relation  
of the human spirit to its ,maker1 its  
originating cause4 ,whether this        
relation can be a direct one is a matter
 for each person to decide from his own 
experience2 but perhaps the only two    
things of which a human being can be    
said to be absolutely conscious are his 
own identity1 and the existence of a    
controlling ,power outside of him4 ,and 
here lies the deepest danger of all1    
that a man should attempt to limit or   
define his conception of the ,power that
 originated him1 by his own preferences4
 ,the deepest mystery of all lies in the
 conviction1 which seems to be          

inextricably rooted in the human spirit1
 namely1 the instinct to distinguish    
between the impulses which we believe   
emanate from ,god1 and the impulses     
which we believe emanate from ourselves4
 ,it is incontestable that the greater  
part of the human race have the instinct
 that in following beneficent1          
unselfish1 noble impulses they are      
following the will of their ,maker2 but 
that in yielding to cruel1 sensual1 low 
impulses they are acting contrary to the
 will of the ,creator4 ,and this        
intuition is one which many of us do not
 doubt1 though it is a principle1 which 
cannot be scientifically proved4        
,indeed1 it is incontestable that1      
though we believe the will of ,god to be
 on the side of what is good1 yet ,he   
puts many obstacles1 or permits them to 
be put1 in the way of the man who       
desires to act rightly4  ,the only way1 
,i believe1 in this last region1 in     
which we can hope to improve1 to win    
victories1 is the way of a quiet and    

sincere submission4 ,it is easy to      
submit to the ,will of ,god when it     
sends us joy and peace1 when it makes us
 courageous1 high-hearted1 and just4    
,the difficulty is to acquiesce when ,he
 sends us adversity1 ill-health1        
suffering2 when ,he permits us to sin1  
or if that is a faithless phrase1 does  
not grant us strength to resist4 ,but we
 must try to be patient1 we must try to 
interpret the value of suffering1 the   
meaning of failure1 the significance of 
shame4 ,perhaps it may be urged that    
this too is a temptation of egotism in  
another guise1 and that we grow thus to 
conceive of ourselves as filling too    
large a space in the mind of ,god4 ,but 
unless we do this1 we can only conceive 
of ourselves as the victims of ,god's   
inattention or neglect1 which is a      
wholly despairing thought4  ,in one     
sense we must be egotistic1 if          
self-knowledge is egotism4 ,we must try 
to take the measure of our faculties1   
and we must try to use them4 ,but while 

we must wisely humiliate ourselves      
before the majesty of ,god1 the vast and
 profound scheme of the ,universe1 we   
must at the same time believe that we   
have our place and our work2 that ,god  
indeed purposely set us where we find   
ourselves2 and among the complicated    
difficulties of sense1 of temptation1 of
 unhappiness1 of failure1 we must try to
 fix our eyes humbly and faithfully upon
 the best1 and seek to be worthy of it4 
,we must try not to be self-sufficient1 
but to be humble and yet diligent4  ,i  
do not think that we practise this      
simple resignation often enough2 it is  
astonishing how the act of placing our  
own will as far as possible in unison   
with the ,will of ,god restores our     
tranquillity4  ,it was only a short time
 ago that ,i was walking alone among    
fields and villages4 ,it was one of     
those languid days of early spring1 when
 the frame and the mind alike seem      
unstrung and listless4 ,the orchards    
were white with flower1 and the hedges  

were breaking into fresh green4 ,i had  
just returned to my work after a brief  
and delightful holiday1 and was         
overshadowed with the vague depression  
that the resumption of work tends to    
bring to anxious minds4 ,i entered a    
little ancient church that stood open2  
it was full of sunlight1 and had been   
tenderly decked with an abundance of    
spring flowers4 ,if ,i had been glad at 
heart it would have seemed a sweet      
place1 full of peace and beautiful      
mysteries4 ,but it had no voice1 no     
message for me4 ,i was overshadowed too 
by a sad anxiety about one whom ,i      
loved1 who was acting perversely and    
unworthily4 ,there came into my mind a  
sudden gracious thought to commit myself
 to the heart of ,god1 not to disguise  
my weakness and anxiety1 not to ask that
 the load should be lightened1 but that 
,i might endure ,his will to the        
uttermost4  ,in a moment came the       
strength ,i sought2 no lightening of the
 load1 but a deeper serenity1 a desire  

to bear it faithfully4 ,the very        
fragrance of the flowers seemed to      
mingle like a sweet incense with my vow4
 ,the old walls whispered of patience   
and hope4 ,i do not know where the peace
 that then settled upon me came from1   
but not1 it seemed1 out of the slender  
resources of my own vexed spirit4  ,but 
after all1 the wonder is1 in this       
mysterious world1 not that there is so  
much egotism abroad1 but that there is  
so little6 ,considering the narrow      
space1 the little cage of bones and     
skin1 in which our spirit is confined1  
like a fluttering bird1 it often        
astonished me to find how much of how   
many people's thoughts is not given to  
themselves1 but to their work1 their    
friends1 their families4  ,the simplest 
and most practical cure for egotism1    
after all1 is resolutely to suppress    
public manifestations of it2 and it is  
best to overcome it as a matter of good 
manners1 rather than as a matter of     
religious principle4 ,one does not want 

people to be impersonal2 all one desires
 to feel is that their interest and     
sympathy is not1 so to speak1 tethered  
by the leg1 and only able to hobble in a
 small and trodden circle4 ,one does not
 want people to suppress their          
personality1 but to be ready to compare 
it with the personalities of others1    
rather than to refer other personalities
 to the standard of their own2 to be    
generous and expansive1 if possible1 and
 if that is not possible1 or not easy1  
to be prepared1 at least1 to take such  
deliberate steps as all can take1 in the
 right direction4 ,we can all force     
ourselves to express interest in the    
tastes and idiosyncrasies of others1 we 
can ask questions1 we can cultivate     
relations4 ,the one way in which we can 
all of us improve1 is to commit         
ourselves to a course of action from    
which we shall be ashamed to draw back4 
,many people who would otherwise drift  
into self-regarding ways do this when   
they marry4 ,they may marry for         

egotistical reasons2 but once inside the
 fence1 affection and duty and the      
amazing experience of having children of
 their own give them the stimulus they  
need4 ,but even the most helpless       
celibate has only to embark upon        
relations with others1 to find them     
multiply and increase4 ,after all1      
egotism has little to do with the       
forming or holding of strong opinions1  
or even with the intentness with which  
we pursue our aims4 ,the dog is the     
intentest of all animals1 and throws    
himself most eagerly into his pursuits1 
but he is also the least egotistical and
 the most sympathetic of creatures4     
,egotism resides more in a kind of proud
 isolation1 in a species of contempt for
 the opinions and aims of others4 ,it is
 not1 as a rule1 the most successful men
 who are the most egotistical4 ,the most
 uncompromisingly egotist ,i know is a  
would-be literary man1 who has the most 
pathetic belief in the interest and     
significance of his own very halting    

performances1 a belief which no amount  
of rejection or indifference can shake1 
and who has hardly a good word for the  
books of other writers4 ,i have         
sometimes thought that it is in his case
 a species of mental disease1 because he
 is an acute critic of all work except  
his own4 ,doctors will indeed tell one  
that transcendent egotism is very nearly
 allied to insanity2 but in ordinary    
cases a little common sense and a little
 courtesy will soon suppress the        
manifestations of the tendency1 if a man
 can only realize that the forming of   
decided opinions is the cheapest luxury 
in the world1 while a licence to express
 them uncompromisingly is one of the    
most expensive4 ,perhaps the hardest    
kind of egotism to cure1 is the egotism 
that is combined with a deferential     
courtesy1 and the power of displaying a 
superficial sympathy1 because an egotist
 of this type so seldom encounters any  
checks which would convince him of his  
fault4 ,such people1 if they have       

natural ability1 often achieve great    
success1 because they pursue their own  
ambitions with relentless perseverance1 
and have the tact to do it without      
appearing to interfere with the designs 
of others4 ,they bide their time2 they  
are all consideration and delicacy2 they
 are never importunate or tiresome2 if  
they fail1 they accept the failure as   
though it were a piece of undeserved    
good fortune2 they never have a         
grievance2 they simply wipe up the spilt
 milk1 and say no more about it2 baffled
 at one point1 they go quietly round the
 corner1 and continue their quest4 ,they
 never for a moment really consider any 
one's interests except their own2 even  
their generous impulses are deliberately
 calculated for the sake of the artistic
 effect4 ,such people make it hard to   
believe in disinterested virtue2 yet    
they join with the meek in inheriting   
the earth1 and their prosperity seems   
the sign of ,divine approval4  ,but     
apart from the definite steps that the  

ordinary1 moderately interesting1       
moderately successful man may take1 in  
the direction of a cure for egotism1 the
 best cure1 after all1 for all faults1  
is a humble desire to be different4     
,that is the most transforming power in 
the world2 we may fail a thousand times1
 but as long as we are ashamed of our   
failure1 as long as we do not helplessly
 acquiesce1 as long as we do not try to 
comfort ourselves for it by a careful   
parade of our other virtues1 we are in  
the pilgrim's road4 ,it is a childish   
fault1 after all4 ,i watched to-day a   
party of children at play4 ,one         
detestable little boy1 the clumsiest and
 most incapable of the party1 spent the 
whole time in climbing up a step and    
jumping from it1 while he entreated all 
the others to see how far he could      
project himself4 ,there was not a child 
there who could not have jumped twice as
 far1 but they were angelically patient 
and sympathetic with the odious little  
wretch4 ,it seemed to me a sad1 small   

parable of what we so many of us are    
engaged all our lives long in doing4    
,the child had no eyes for and no       
thoughts of the rest2 he simply         
reiterated his ridiculous performance1  
and claimed admiration4 ,there came into
 my mind that exquisite and beautiful   
ode1 the work too1 strange to say1 of a 
transcendent egotist1 ,coventry         
,patmore1 and the prayer he made3       
,ah1 when at last we lie with tranced   
breath1     ,nor vexing ,thee in death1 
,and ,thou rememberest of what toys     
,we made our joys1     ,how weakly      
understood     ,thy great commanded     
good1     ,then1 fatherly not less      
,than ,i whom ,thou hast moulded from   
the clay1     ,thou'lt leave ,thy wrath1
 and say1     ',i will be sorry for     
their childishness4'   ,this is where we
 may leave our problem2 leave it1 that  
is to say1 if we have faithfully        
struggled with it1 if we have tried to  
amend ourselves and to encourage others2
 if we have done all this1 and reached a

 point beyond which progress seems      
impossible4 ,but we must not fling our  
problems and perplexities1 as we are apt
 to do1 upon the knees of ,god1 the very
 instant they begin to bewilder us1 as  
children bring a tangled skein1 or a toy
 bent crooked1 to a nurse4 ,we must not1
 ,i say2 and yet1 after all1 ,i am not  
sure that it is not the best and        
simplest way of all6     ,,ix           
,,education   ,i said that ,i was a     
public-school master for nearly twenty  
years2 and now that it is over ,i       
sometimes sit and wonder1 rather sadly1 
,i am afraid1 what we were all about4   
,we were a strictly classical school2   
that is to say1 all the boys in the     
school were practically specialists in  
classics1 whether they had any aptitude 
for them or not4 ,we shoved and rammed  
in a good many other subjects into the  
tightly packed budget we called the     
curriculum4 ,but it was not a sincere   
attempt to widen our education1 or to   
give boys a real chance to work at the  

things they cared for2 it was only a    
compromise with the supposed claims of  
the public1 in order that we might try  
to believe that we taught things we did 
not really teach4 ,we had an enormous   
and elaborate machine2 the boys worked  
hard1 and the masters were horribly     
overworked4 ,the whole thing whizzed1   
banged1 grumbled1 and hummed like a     
factory2 but very little education was  
the result4 ,it used to go to my heart  
to see a sparkling stream of bright1    
keen1 lively little boys arrive1 half   
after half1 ready to work1 full of      
interest1 ready to listen breathlessly  
to anything that struck their fancy1    
ready to ask questions--such excellent  
material1 ,i used to think4 ,at the     
other end used to depart a slow river of
 cheerful and conventional boys1        
well-dressed1 well-mannered1 thoroughly 
nice1 reasonable1 sensible1 and         
good-humoured creatures1 but knowing    
next to nothing1 without intellectual   
interests1 and1 indeed1 honestly        

despising them4 ,i do not want to       
exaggerate2 and ,i will frankly confess 
that there were always a few            
well-educated boys among them2 but these
 were boys of real ability1 with an     
aptitude for classics4 ,and as providing
 a classical education1 the system was  
effective1 though cumbrous2 hampered and
 congested by the other subjects1 which 
were well enough taught1 but which had  
no adequate time given to them1 and     
intruded upon the classics without      
having opportunity to develop           
themselves4 ,it is a melancholy picture1
 but the result certainly was that      
intellectual cynicism was the note of   
the place4  ,the pity of it is that the 
machinery was all there2 cheerful       
industry among masters and boys alike2  
but the whole thing frozen and chilled1 
partly by the congestion of subjects1   
partly by antiquated methods4           
,moreover1 to provide a classical       
education for the best boys1 everything 
else was sacrificed4 ,the boys were     

taught classics1 not on the literary    
method1 but on the academic method1 as  
if they were all to enter for triposes  
and scholarships1 and to end by becoming
 professors4 ,instead of simply reading 
away at interesting and beautiful books1
 and trying1 to cover some ground1 a    
great quantity of pedantic grammar was  
taught2 time was wasted in trying to    
make the boys compose in both ,latin and
 ,greek1 when they had no vocabulary1   
and no knowledge of the languages4 ,it  
was like setting children of six and    
seven to write ,english in the style of 
,milton and ,carlyle4  ,the solution is 
a very obvious one2 it is1 at all costs 
to simplify1 and to relieve pressure4   
,the staple of education should be      
,french1 easy mathematics1 history1     
geography1 and popular science4 ,i would
 not even begin ,latin or ,greek at     
first4 ,then1 when the first stages were
 over1 ,i would have every boy with any 
special gift put to a single subject1 in
 which he should try to make real       

progress1 but so that there would be    
time to keep up the simpler subjects as 
well4 ,the result would be that when a  
boy had finished his course1 he would   
have some one subject which he could    
reasonably be expected to have mastered 
up to a certain point4 ,he would have   
learnt classics1 or mathematics1 or     
history1 or modern languages1 or        
science1 thoroughly2 while all might    
hope to have a competent knowledge of   
,french1 ,english1 history1 easy        
mathematics1 and easy science4 ,boys who
 had obviously no special aptitude would
 be kept on at the simple subjects4 ,and
 if the result was only that a school   
sent out boys who could read ,french    
easily1 and write simple ,french        
grammatically1 who knew something of    
modern history and geography1 could work
 out sums in arithmetic1 and had some   
conception of elementary science--well1 
they would1 ,i believe1 be very fairly  
educated boys4  ,the reason why         
intellectual cynicism sets in1 is       

because the boys1 as they go on1 feel   
that they have mastered nothing4 ,they  
have been set to compose in ,greek and  
,latin and ,french2 the result is that  
they have no power of composing in any  
of these languages1 when they might have
 learnt to compose in one4 ,meanwhile1  
they have not had time to read any      
,english to speak of1 or to be practised
 in writing it4 ,they know nothing of   
their own history or of modern          
geography2 and the blame is not with    
them if they find all knowledge arid and
 unattractive4  ,i would try all sorts  
of experiments4 ,i would make boys do   
easy precis-writing2 to give a set of   
boys a simple printed correspondence and
 tell them to analyse it1 would be to   
give them a task in which the dullest   
would find some amusement4 ,i should    
read a story aloud1 or a short episode  
of history1 and require them to re-tell 
it in their own words4 ,or ,i would     
relate a simple incident1 and make them 
write it in ,french2 make them write    

letters in ,french4 ,and it would be    
easy thus to make one subject play into 
another1 because they could be made to  
give an account in ,french of something 
that they had done in science or        
history4  ,at present each of the       
roads--,latin1 ,greek1 ,french1         
mathematics1 science--leads off in a    
separate direction1 and seems to lead   
nowhere in particular4  ,the defenders  
of the classical system say that it     
fortifies the mind and makes it a strong
 and vigorous instrument4 ,where is the 
proof of it8 ,it is true that it        
fortifies and invigorates minds which   
have1 to start with1 plenty of grip and 
interest2 but pure classics are1 as the 
results abundantly prove1 too hard a    
subject for ordinary minds1 and they are
 taught in too abstruse and elaborate a 
way4 ,if it were determined by the      
united good sense of educational        
authorities that ,latin and ,greek must 
be retained at all costs1 then the only 
thing to do would be to sacrifice all   

other subjects1 and to alter all the    
methods of teaching the classics4 ,i do 
not think it would be a good solution2  
but it would be better than the present 
system of intellectual starvation4  ,the
 truth is that the present results are  
so poor that any experiments are        
justified4 ,the one quality which you   
can depend upon in boys is interest1 and
 interest is ruthlessly sacrificed4     
,when ,i used to press this fact upon my
 sterner colleagues1 they would say that
 ,i only wanted to make things amusing1 
and that the result would be that we    
should only turn out amateurs4 ,but     
amateurs are at least better than       
barbarians2 and my complaint is that the
 majority of the boys are not turned out
 even professionally equipped in the    
elaborate subjects they are supposed to 
have been taught4  ,the same melancholy 
thing goes on in the older              
,universities4 ,the classics are        
retained as a subject in which all must 
qualify2 and the education provided for 

the ordinary passman is of a            
contemptible1 smattering kind2 it is    
really no education at all4 ,it gives no
 grip1 or vigour1 or stimulus4 ,here    
again no one takes any interest in the  
average man4 ,if the more liberal       
residents try to get rid of the         
intolerable tyranny of compulsory       
classics1 a band of earnest1            
conventional people streams up from the 
country and outvotes them1 saying       
solemnly1 and obviously believing1 that 
education is in danger4 ,the truth is   
that the intellectual education of the  
average ,englishman is sacrificed to an 
antiquated humanist system1 administered
 by unimaginative and pedantic people4  
,the saddest part of it all is that we  
have1 most of us1 so little idea of what
 we want to effect by education4 ,my own
 theory is a simple one4 ,i think that  
we ought first of all to equip boys1 as1
 far as we can1 to play a useful part in
 the world4 ,such a theory is decried by
 educational theorists as being         

utilitarian2 but if education is not to 
be useful1 we had better close our      
schools at once4 ,the idealist says1    
,never mind the use2 get the best       
educational instrument for the training 
of the mind1 and1 when you have finished
 your work1 the mind will be bright and 
strong1 and capable of discharging any  
labour4 ,that is a beautiful theory2 but
 it is not borne out by results2 and one
 of the reasons of the profound         
disbelief which is rapidly spreading in 
the country with regard to our public   
schools1 is that we send out so many    
boys1 not only without intellectual     
life1 but not even capable of humble    
usefulness4 ,these theorists continue to
 talk of classics as a splendid         
gymnastic1 but in their hands it becomes
 a rack2 instead of leaving the limbs   
supple and well knit1 they are strained1
 disjointed1 and feeble4 ,even the      
flower of our classical system are too  
often left without any original power of
 expression2 critical1 fastidious minds1

 admiring erudition1 preferring the     
elucidation of second-rate authors to   
the study of the best4 ,a man who reads 
,virgil for pleasure is a better result 
of a system of education than one who   
re-edits ,tibullus4 ,instead of having  
original thoughts1 and a style of their 
own to express them in1 these high      
classicists are left with a profound    
knowledge of the style and usage of     
ancient authors1 a thing not to be      
undervalued as a step in a progress1 but
 still essentially an anteroom of the   
mind4  ,the further task that lies      
before us educators1 when we have       
trained a mind to be useful1 consists in
 the awakening1 in whatever regions may 
be possible1 of the soul4 ,by this ,i do
 not mean the ethical soul1 but the     
spirit of fine perception of beauty1 of 
generous admiration for what is noble   
and true and high4 ,and here ,i am sure 
that we fail1 and fail miserably4 ,for  
one thing1 these great classicists make 
the mistake of thinking that only       

through literature1 and1 what is more1  
the austere literature of ,greece and   
,rome1 can this sense be developed4 ,i  
myself have a deep admiration for ,greek
 literature4 ,i think it one of the     
brightest flowers of the human spirit1  
and ,i think it well that any boy with a
 real literary sense should be brought  
into contact with it4 ,i do not think   
highly of ,latin literature4 ,there are 
very few writers of the first rank4     
,virgil is1 of course1 one2 and ,horace 
is a splendid craftsman1 but not a high 
master of literature4 ,there is hardly  
any prose in ,latin fit for boys to     
read4 ,cicero is diffuse1 and often     
affords little more than small-talk on  
abstract topics2 ,tacitus a brilliant   
but affected prosateur1 ,caesar a dull  
and uninspiring author4 ,but to many    
boys the path to literary appreciation  
cannot lie through ,latin1 or even      
,greek1 because the old language hangs  
like a veil between them and the thought
 within4 ,to some boys the enkindling of

 the intellectual soul comes through    
,english literature1 to some through    
history1 to some through a knowledge of 
other lands1 which can be approached by 
geography4 ,to some through art and     
music2 and of these two things we trifle
 with the latter and hardly touch upon  
the former4 ,i cannot see that a        
knowledge of the lives1 the motives1 the
 performances of artists is in itself a 
less valuable instrument of education   
than a knowledge of the lives1 motives1 
and performances of writers1 even though
 they be ,greek4  ,what our teachers    
fail in--and the most enthusiastic often
 fail most hopelessly--is sympathy and  
imagination4 ,they cannot conceive that 
what moves1 touches1 and inspires       
themselves may have no meaning for boys 
with a different type of mind4  ,the    
result of our education can be well     
reviewed by one who1 like myself1 after 
wrestling1 often very sorrowfully1 with 
the problems of school education1 comes 
up to a university and gets to know     

something of these boys at a later      
stage4 ,many of them are fine1 vigorous 
fellows2 but they often tend to look    
upon their work as a disagreeable       
necessity1 which they do                
conscientiously1 expecting nothing in   
particular from it4 ,they play games    
ardently1 and fill their hours of       
leisure with talk about them4 ,yet one  
discerns in mind after mind the germs of
 intellectual things1 undeveloped and   
bewildered4 ,many of them have an       
interest in something1 but they are     
often ashamed to talk about it4 ,they   
have a deep horror of being supposed to 
be superior2 they listen politely to    
talk about books and pictures1 conscious
 of ignorance1 not ill-disposed to      
listen2 but it is all an unreal world to
 them4  ,i am all for hard and strenuous
 work4 ,i do not at all wish to make    
work slipshod and dilettante4 ,i would  
raise the standards of simple education1
 and force boys to show that they are   
working honestly4 ,i want energy and    

zeal above everything4 ,but my honest   
belief is that you cannot get strenuous 
and zealous work unless you also have   
interest and belief in work4 ,at        
present1 education as conducted in our  
public-school and university system     
appears to me to be neither utilitarian 
nor intellectual4 ,it aims at being     
intellectual first and utilitarian      
afterwards1 and it misses both4         
,whether anything can be done on a big  
scale to help us out of the poor tangle 
in which we are involved1 ,i do not     
know4 ,i fear not4 ,i do not think that 
the time is ripe4 ,i do not believe that
 great movements can be brought about by
 prophets1 however enlightened their    
views1 however vigorous their           
personalities1 unless there is a        
corresponding energy below4 ,an         
individual may initiate and control a   
great force of public opinion2 ,i do not
 think he can originate it4 ,there is   
certainly a vague and widespread        
discontent with our present results2 but

 it is all a negative opinion1 a        
dissatisfaction with what is being done4
 ,the movement must have a certain      
positive character before it can take   
shape4 ,there must arise a desire and a 
respect for intellectual things1 a      
certain mental tone1 which is wanting4  
,at present1 public opinion only        
indicates that the rising generation is 
not well trained1 and that boys1 after  
going through an elaborate education1   
seem to be very little equipped for     
practical life4 ,there is no complaint  
that boys are made unpractical2 the     
feeling rather is that they are turned  
out healthy1 well-drilled creatures1    
fond of games1 manly1 obedient1 but with
 a considerable aversion to settling    
down to work1 and with a firm resolve to
 extract what amusement they can out of 
life4 ,all that is1 ,i feel1 perfectly  
true2 but there is little demand on the 
part of parents that boys should have   
intellectual interests or enthusiasms   
for the things of the mind4 ,what       

teachers ought to aim at is to          
communicate something of this           
enthusiasm1 by devising a form of       
education which should appeal to the    
simpler forms of intellectual curiosity1
 instead of starving boys upon an ideal 
of inaccessible dignity4 ,i do not for a
 moment deny that those who defend the  
old classical tradition have a high     
intellectual ideal4 ,but it is an       
unpractical ideal1 and takes no account 
of the plain facts of experience4  ,the 
result is that we teachers have         
forfeited confidence2 and we must       
somehow or other regain it4 ,we are     
tolerated1 as all ancient and           
respectable things are tolerated4 ,we   
have become a part of the social order1 
and we have still the prestige of wealth
 and dignity4 ,but what wealthy people  
ever dream nowadays of building and     
endowing colleges on purely literary    
lines8 ,all the buildings which have    
arisen of late in my ,university are    
either buildings for scientific purposes

 or clerical foundations for            
ecclesiastical ends4 ,the vitality of   
our literary education is slowly fading 
out of it4 ,this lack of vitality is not
 so evident until you go a little way   
beneath the surface4 ,classical         
proficiency is still liberally rewarded 
by scholarships and fellowships2 and    
while the classical tradition remains in
 our schools1 there are a good many men1
 who intend to be teachers1 who enter   
for classical examinations4 ,but where  
we fail grievously is in our provision  
for average men2 they are provided with 
feeble examinations in desultory and    
diffuse subjects1 in which a high       
standard is not required4 ,it is        
difficult to imagine a condition of     
greater vacuity than that in which a man
 leaves the ,university after taking a  
pass degree4 ,no one has endeavoured to 
do anything for him1 or to cultivate his
 intelligence in any line4 ,and yet     
these are our parents in the next       
generation4 ,and the only way in which  

we stifle mental revolt is by leaving   
our victims in such a condition of      
mental abjectness and intellectual      
humility1 that it does not even occur to
 them to complain of how unjustly they  
have been treated4 ,after all1 we have  
interfered with them so little that they
 have contrived to have a good time at  
the ,university4 ,they have made        
friends1 played games1 and lived a      
healthy life enough2 they resolve that  
their boys shall have a good time too1  
if possible2 and so the poor educational
 farce is played on from generation to  
generation4 ,it is melancholy to read   
the sonnet which ,tennyson wrote1 more  
than sixty years ago1 a grave and bitter
 indictment of ,cambridge--             
,because you do profess to teach1       
,and teach us nothing1 feeding not the  
heart4   ,that is the mistake3 we do not
 feed the heart2 we are too             
professional2 we concern ourselves with 
methods and details2 we swallow blindly 
the elaborate tradition under which we  

have ourselves been educated2 we        
continue to respect the erudite mind1   
and to decry the appreciative spirit as 
amateurish and dilettante4 ,we continue 
to think that a boy is well trained in  
history if he has a minute knowledge of 
the sequence of events--that is1 of     
course1 a necessary part of the         
equipment of a professor or a teacher2  
but here again lies one of the fatal    
fallacies of our system--that we train  
from the professorial point of view4    
,omniscience is not even desirable in   
the ordinary mind4 ,a boy who has       
appreciated the force of a few great    
historical characters1 who has learnt   
generous insight into the unselfish     
patriotism that wins the great victories
 of the world1 who can see the horror of
 tyranny and the wrongs done to humanity
 in the name of authority1 who has seen 
how a nation in earlier stages is best  
ruled by an enlightened despotism1 until
 it has learnt vigour and honesty and   
truth1 who has3 learnt to perceive that 

political agitation only survives in    
virtue of the justice which underlies   
its demands--a boy1 ,i say1 who has been
 taught to perceive such things1 has    
learnt the lesson of history in a way   
which a student crammed with dates and  
facts may have wholly missed4  ,the     
truth is that we do not know what we are
 aiming at4 ,our school and university  
systems aim at present at an austere    
standard of mental discipline1 and then 
fail to enforce it1 by making inevitable
 concessions to the mental weakness     
inherited from long generations trained 
upon the system of starvation4 ,the     
system1 indeed1 too often reminds me of 
an old picture in ,punch1 of genteel    
poverty dining in state2 in a room hung 
with portraits1 attended by footmen1 two
 attenuated persons sit1 while a silver 
cover is removed from a dish containing 
a roasted mouse4 ,the resources that    
ought to be spent on a wholesome meal   
are wasted in keeping up an ideal of    
state4 ,of course there is something    

noble in all sacrifice of personal      
comfort and health to a dignified ideal2
 but it is our business at present to   
fill the dish rather than to insist on  
the cover being of silver4  ,one very   
practical proof of the disbelief which  
the public has in education is that1    
while the charges of public schools have
 risen greatly in the last fifty years1 
the margin is all expended in the       
comfort of boys1 and in opportunities   
for athletic exercises2 while masters1  
at all but a very few public schools1   
are still so poorly paid that it is     
impossible for the best men to adopt the
 profession1 unless they have an        
enthusiasm which causes them to put     
considerations of personal comfort      
aside4 ,it is only too melancholy to    
observe at the ,university that the men 
of vigour and force tend to choose the  
,civil ,service or the ,bar in          
preference to educational work4 ,i      
cannot wonder at it4 ,the drudgery of   
falling in with the established system1 

of teaching things in which there is no 
interest to be communicated1 of         
insisting on details in the value of    
which one does not believe1 is such that
 few people1 except unambitious men1 who
 have no special mental bent1 adopt the 
profession2 and these only because the  
imparting of the slender accomplishments
 that they have gained is an obvious and
 simple method of earning a livelihood4 
,the blame must1 ,i fear1 fall first    
upon the ,universities4 ,i am not       
speaking of the education there provided
 for the honour men1 which is often     
excellent of its kind2 though it must be
 confessed that the keenest and best    
enthusiasm seems to me there to be      
drifting away from the literary side of 
education4 ,but while an old and outworn
 humanist tradition is allowed to       
prevail1 while the studies of the       
average passman are allowed to be       
diffuse1 desultory1 and aimless1 and of 
a kind from which it is useless to      
expect either animation or precision1 so

 long will a blight rest upon the       
education of the country4 ,while boys of
 average abilities continue to be sent  
to the ,universities1 and while the     
,universities maintain the classical    
fence1 so long will the so-called modern
 sides at schools continue to be        
collections of more or less incapable   
boys4 ,and in decrying modern sides1 as 
even headmasters of great schools have  
been often known to do1 it is very      
seldom stated that the average of       
ability in these departments tends to be
 so low that even the masters who teach 
in them teach without faith or interest4
  ,it may be thought of these           
considerations that they resemble the   
attitude of ,carlyle1 of whom           
,fitz,gerald said that he had sat for   
many years pretty comfortably in his    
study at ,chelsea1 scolding all the     
world for not being heroic1 but without 
being very precise in telling them how4 
,but this is a case where individual    
action is out of the question2 and if ,i

 am asked to name a simple reform which 
would have an effect1 ,i would suggest  
that a careful revision of the education
 of passmen at our ,universities is the 
best and most practical step to take4   
,and1 for the schools1 the only solution
 possible is that the directors of      
secondary education should devise a real
 and simple form of curriculum4 ,if they
 whole-heartedly believe in the classics
 as the best possible form of education1
 then let them realize that the classics
 form a large and complicated subject1  
which demands the ,,whole of the        
energies of boys4 ,let them resist      
utilitarian demands altogether1 and     
bundle all other subjects1 except       
classics1 out of the curriculum1 so that
 classics may1 at all events1 be learnt 
thoroughly and completely4 ,at present  
they make large and reluctant           
concessions to utilitarian demands1 and 
spoil the effect of the classics to     
which they cling1 and in which they     
sincerely believe1 by admitting modern  

subjects to the curriculum in deference 
to the clamour of utilitarians4 ,a rigid
 system1 faithfully administered1 would 
be better than a slatternly compromise4 
,of course1 one would like to teach all 
boys everything if it were possible6    
,but the holding capacity of tender     
minds is small1 and a few subjects      
thoroughly taught are infinitely better 
than a large number of subjects flabbily
 taught4  ,i say1 quite honestly1 that  
,i had rather have the old system of    
classics pure and simple1 taught with   
relentless accuracy1 than the present   
hotchpotch4 ,but ,i earnestly hope      
myself that the pressure of the demand  
for modern subjects is too strong to be 
resisted4  ,it seems to me that1 when   
the whole world is expanding and        
thrilling with new life all around us1  
it is an intolerable mistake not to     
bring the minds of boys in touch with   
the modern spirit4 ,the history of      
,greece and ,rome may well form a part  
of modern education2 but we want rather 

to bring the minds of those who are     
being educated into contact with the    
,greek and ,roman spirit1 as part of the
 spirit of the world1 than to make them 
acquainted with the philological and    
syntactical peculiarities of the two    
languages4 ,it may be said that we      
cannot come into contact with the ,greek
 and the ,roman spirit except through   
reading their respective literatures2   
but if that is the case1 how can a      
system of teaching classics be defended 
which never brings the vast majority of 
the boys1 who endure it1 in contact with
 the literature or the national spirit  
of the ,greeks and ,romans at all8 ,i do
 not think that classical teachers can  
sincerely maintain that the average     
product of a classical school has any   
real insight into1 or familiarity with1 
either the language or the spirit of    
these two great nations4  ,and if that  
is true of average boys educated on this
 system1 what is it that classical      
teachers profess to have given them8    

,they will say grip1 vigour1 the        
fortified mind4 ,but where is the proof 
of it8 ,if ,i saw classically educated  
boys flinging themselves afterwards with
 energy and ardour into modern          
literature1 history1 philosophy1        
science1 ,i should be the first to      
concur in the value of the system4 ,but 
,i see1 instead1 intellectual cynicism1 
intellectual apathy1 an absorbing love  
of physical exercise1 an appetite for   
material pleasures1 a distaste for books
 and thought4 ,i do not say that these  
tendencies would at once yield to a     
simpler and more enlightened system of  
education2 but the results of the       
present system seem to me so negative1  
so unsatisfactory1 as to justify1 and   
indeed necessitate1 the trying of       
educational experiments4 ,it is terrible
 to see the patient acquiescence1 the   
humble conscientiousness with which the 
present system is administered4 ,it is  
pathetic to see so much labour expended 
upon an impossible task4 ,there is      

something1 of course1 morally impressive
 about the courage and loyalty of those 
who stick to a sinking ship1 and attempt
 to bale out with teacups the inrush of 
the overwhelming tide4 ,but one cannot  
help feeling that too much is at stake2 
that year by year the younger           
generation1 which ought to be sent out  
alive to intellectual interests of every
 kind1 in a period which is palpitating 
with problems and thrilled by wonderful 
surprises1 is being starved and cramped 
by an obstinate clinging to an old      
tradition1 to a system which reveals its
 inadequacy to all who pass by2 or1     
rather1 our boys are being sacrificed to
 a weak compromise between two systems1 
the old and the new1 which are          
struggling together4 ,the new system    
cannot at present eject the old1 and the
 old can only render the new futile     
without exercising its own complete     
influence4  ,the best statesmanship in  
the world is not to break rudely with   
old traditions1 but to cause the old to 

run smoothly into the new4 ,my own      
sincere belief is that it is not too    
late to attempt this2 but that if the   
subject continues to be shelved1 if our 
educational authorities refuse to       
consider the question of reform1 the    
growing dissatisfaction will reach such 
a height that the old system will be    
swept away root and branch1 and that    
many venerable and beautiful            
associations will thereby be sacrificed4
 ,and with all my heart do ,i deprecate 
this1 believing1 as ,i do1 that a wise  
continuity1 a tendency to temperate     
reform1 is one of the best notes of the 
,english character4 ,we have a great and
 instinctive tact in ,england for       
avoiding revolutions1 and for making    
freedom broaden slowly down2 that is    
what1 one ventures to hope1 may be the  
issue of the present discontent4 ,but ,i
 would rather have a revolution1 with   
all its destructive agencies1 than an   
unintelligent and oppressive tyranny4   
,x  ,,authorship   ,i have been         

sometimes consulted by young aspirants  
in literature as to the best mode of    
embarking upon the profession of        
letters2 and if my inquirer has         
confessed that he will be obliged to    
earn his living1 ,i have always replied1
 dully but faithfully1 that the best way
 to realize his ambition is to enter    
some other profession without delay4    
,writing is indeed the most delightful  
thing in the world1 if one has not to   
depend upon it for a livelihood2 and the
 truth is that1 if a man has the real   
literary gift1 there are very few       
professions which do not afford a margin
 of time sufficient for him to indulge  
what is the happiest and simplest of    
hobbies4 ,sometimes the early impulse   
has no root1 and withers2 but if1 after 
a time1 a man finds that his heart is   
entirely in his writing1 and if he feels
 that he may without imprudence give    
himself to the practice of the beloved  
art1 then he may formally adopt it as a 
profession4 ,but he must not hope for   

much monetary reward4 ,a successful     
writer of plays may make a fortune1 a   
novelist or a journalist of the first   
rank may earn a handsome income2 but to 
achieve conspicuous mundane success in  
literature1 a certain degree of good    
fortune is almost more important than   
genius1 or even than talent4 ,ability by
 itself1 even literary ability of a high
 order1 is not sufficient2 it is        
necessary to have a vogue1 to create or 
satisfy a special demand1 to hit the    
taste of the age4 ,but the writer of    
belles-lettres1 the literary writer pure
 and simple1 can hardly hope to earn a  
living wage1 unless he is content to do1
 and indeed fortunate enough to obtain1 
a good deal of hackwork as well4 ,he    
must be ready to write reviews and      
introductions2 to pour out occasional   
articles1 to compile1 to edit1 to       
select2 and the chances are that if his 
livelihood depends upon his labour1 he  
will have little of the tranquillity1   
the serenity1 the leisure1 upon the     

enjoyment of which the quality of the   
best work depends4 ,john ,addington     
,symonds makes a calculation1 in one of 
his published letters1 to the effect    
that his entire earnings for the years  
in which he had been employed in writing
 his history of the ,italian            
,renaissance1 had been at the rate of   
about ,l#ajj a year1 from which probably
 nearly half had to be subtracted for   
inevitable incidental expenses1 such as 
books and travelling4 ,the conclusion is
 that unless a man has private          
resources1 or a sufficiently robust     
constitution to be able to carry on his 
literary work side by side with his     
professional work1 he can hardly afford 
to turn his attention to belles-lettres4
  ,nowadays literature has become a     
rather fashionable pursuit than         
otherwise4 ,times have changed since    
,gray refused to accept money for his   
publications1 and gave it to be         
understood that he was an eccentric     
gentleman who wrote solely for his own  

amusement2 since the inheritor of       
,rokeby found among the family portraits
 of the magnates that adorned his walls 
a picture of the novelist ,richardson1  
and was at the pains of adding a ribbon 
and a star1 in order to turn it into a  
portrait of ,sir ,robert ,walpole1 that 
he might free his gallery from such     
degrading associations4  ,but now a     
social personage is hardly ashamed of   
writing a book1 of travels1 perhaps1 or 
even of literary appreciations1 so long 
as it is untainted by erudition2 he is  
not averse to publishing a volume of    
mild lyrics1 or a piece of simple       
fiction1 just to show how easy it is1   
and what he could do1 if only1 as       
,charles ,lamb said1 he had the mind4   
,it adds a pleasant touch of charming   
originality to a great lady if she can  
bring out a little book4 ,such          
compositions are indubitably books2 they
 generally have a title-page1 an        
emotional dedication1 an ultra-modest   
preface1 followed by a certain number of

 pages of undeniable print4 ,it is      
common enough too1 at a big             
dinner-party1 to meet three or four     
people1 without the least professional  
dinginess1 who have written books4 ,mr4 
,winston ,churchill said the other day1 
with much humour1 that he could not     
reckon himself a professional author    
because he had only written five        
books--the same number as ,moses499 ,and
 ,i am far from decrying the pleasant   
labours of these amateurs4 ,the writing 
of such books as ,i have described has  
been a real amusement to the author1 not
 entailing any particular strain2 the   
sweet pride of authorship enlarges one's
 sympathies1 and gives an agreeable glow
 to life4 ,no inconvenient rivalry      
results4 ,the little volumes just       
flutter into the sunshine1 like gauzy   
flies from some tiny cocoon1 and spread 
their slender wings very gracefully in  
the sun4   99 ,this sentence was1 of    
course1 written before the publication  
by ,mr4 ,churchill of the ,life of his  

father1 ,lord ,randolph ,churchill4   ,i
 would not1 then1 like some austere     
critics1 forbid such leisurely writers  
as ,i have described to indulge in the  
pleasant diversion of writing books4    
,there are reviewers who think it a     
sacred duty to hunt and chase these     
amiable and well-meaning amateurs out of
 the field1 as though they had          
trespassed upon some sacred enclosure4  
,i do not think that it is necessary or 
even kind to do this4 ,i would rather   
regard literature as a kind of ,tom     
,tiddler's ground1 where there is gold  
as well as silver to be picked up4      
,amateurs tend1 it is true1 rather to   
scatter gold and silver in the field of 
literature than to acquire it2 and ,i   
had just as soon1 after all1 that they  
should lavish their superfluous wealth  
there1 to be picked up by honest        
publishers1 as that they should lavish  
it in other regions of unnecessary      
expenditure4 ,it is not a crime1 when   
all is said1 to write or even to print  

an inferior book2 ,i would indeed go    
further1 and say that writing in any    
shape is at worst a harmless diversion2 
and ,i see no reason why people should  
be discouraged from such diversion1 any 
more than that they should be           
discouraged from practising music1 or   
making sketches in water-colour1 because
 they only attain a low standard of     
execution in such pursuits4 ,indeed1 ,i 
think that hours devoted to the         
production of inferior literature1 by   
persons of leisure1 are quite as well   
bestowed as hours spent in golfing and  
motoring2 to engage in the task of      
writing a book implies a certain        
sympathy with intellectual things2 and  
,i am disposed to applaud and encourage 
anything which increases intellectual   
appreciation in our country at the      
present time4 ,there is not too much of 
it abroad2 and ,i care very little how  
it is acquired1 if only it is acquired4 
,the only way in which these amateurs   
can be tiresome is if they insist upon  

reading their compositions aloud in a   
domestic circle1 or if they request one 
to read a published book and give them a
 candid opinion4 ,i once stayed with a  
worthy country gentleman who1 evening   
after evening1 after we had returned    
from shooting1 insisted on reading aloud
 in the smoking-room1 with solemn zest1 
the novel on which he was engaged4 ,it  
was heavy work6 ,the shooting was good1 
but ,i am not sure that it was not      
dearly purchased at the price4 ,the plot
 of the book was intricate1 the         
characters numerous2 and ,i found it    
almost impossible to keep the dramatis  
personae apart4 ,but ,i did not grudge  
my friend the pleasure he took in his   
composition2 ,i only grudged the time ,i
 was obliged to spend in listening to   
it4 ,the novel was not worth writing    
from the point of view of its intrinsic 
merits2 but it gave my old friend an    
occupation2 he was never bored2 he flew 
back to his book whenever he had an hour
 to spare4 ,it saved him from dulness   

and ennui2 it gave him1 ,i doubt not1   
many a glowing hour of secret joy2 it   
was an unmixed benefit to himself and   
his family that he had this indoors     
resource2 it entailed no expense2 it was
 simply the cheapest and most harmless  
hobby that it is possible to conceive4  
,it is characteristic of our nation to  
feel an imperative need for occupation4 
,i suppose that there is no nation in   
the world which has so little capacity  
for doing nothing gracefully1 and       
enjoying it1 as the ,english4 ,this     
characteristic is part of our strength1 
because it testifies to a certain       
childlike vitality4 ,we are impatient1  
restless1 unsatisfied4 ,we cannot be    
happy unless we have a definite end in  
view4 ,the result of this temperament is
 to be seen at the present time in the  
enormous and consuming passion for      
athletic exercise in the open air4 ,we  
are not an intellectual nation1 and we  
must do something2 we are wealthy and   
secure1 and1 in default of regular work1

 we have got to organize our hours of   
leisure on the supposition that we have 
something to do4 ,i have little doubt   
that if we became a more intellectual   
nation the change would be signalized by
 an immense output of inferior books1   
because we have not the student         
temperament1 the gift of absorbing      
literature4 ,we have a deep instinct for
 publicity4 ,if we are athletically     
gifted1 we must display our athletic    
prowess in public4 ,if we have thoughts 
of our own1 we must have a hearing2 we  
look upon meditation1 contemplation1    
conversation1 the arts of leisurely     
living1 as a waste of time2 we are above
 all things practical4  ,but ,i would   
pass on to consider the case of more    
serious writers2 and ,i would begin by  
making a personal confession4 ,my own   
occupations are mainly literary2 and ,i 
would say frankly that there seems to me
 to be no pleasure comparable to the    
pleasure of writing4 ,to find a         
congenial subject1 and to express that  

subject as lucidly1 as sincerely1 as    
frankly as possible1 appears to me to be
 the most delightful occupation in the  
world4 ,nature is full of exquisite     
sights and sounds1 day by day2 the stage
 of the world is crowded with           
interesting and fascinating             
personalities1 rich in contrasts1 in    
characteristics1 in humour1 in pathos4  
,we are surrounded1 the moment we pass  
outside of the complex material         
phenomena which surround us1 by all     
kinds of wonderful secrets and          
incomprehensible mysteries4 ,what is    
this strange pageant that unrolls itself
 before us from hour to hour8 this      
panorama of night and day1 sun and moon1
 summer and winter1 joy and sorrow1 life
 and death8 ,we have all of us1 like    
,jack ,horner1 our slice of pie to eat4 
,which of us does not know the delighted
 complacency with which we pull out the 
plums8 ,the poet is silent of the moment
 when the plate is empty1 when nothing  
is left but the stones2 but that is no  

less impressive an experience4  ,the    
wonderful thing to me is1 not that there
 is so much desire in the world to      
express our little portion of the joy1  
the grief1 the mystery of it all1 but   
that there is so little4 ,i wish with   
all my heart that there was more        
instinct for personal expression2       
,edward ,fitz,gerald said that he wished
 we had more lives of obscure persons2  
one wants to know what other people are 
thinking and feeling about it all2 what 
joys they anticipate1 what fears they   
sustain1 how they regard the end and    
cessation of life and perception1 which 
waits for us all4 ,the worst of it is   
that people are often so modest2 they   
think that their own experience is so   
dull1 so unromantic1 so uninteresting4  
,it is an entire mistake4 ,if the       
dullest person in the world would only  
put down sincerely what he or she       
thought about his or her life1 about    
work and love1 religion and emotion1 it 
would be a fascinating document4 ,my    

only sorrow is that the amateurs of whom
 ,i have spoken above will not do this2 
they rather turn to external and        
impersonal impressions1 relate definite 
things1 what they see on their travels1 
for instance1 describing just the things
 which any one can see4 ,they tend to   
indulge in the melancholy labour of     
translation1 or employ customary1       
familiar forms1 such as the novel or the
 play4 ,if only they would write diaries
 and publish them2 compose imaginary    
letters2 let one inside the house of    
self instead of keeping one wandering in
 the park6 ,the real interest of        
literature is the apprehending of other 
points of view2 one spends an immense   
time in what is called society1 in the  
pursuit of other people's views2 but    
what a very little grain results from an
 intolerable deal of chaff6 ,and all    
because people are conventional and not 
simple-minded2 because they will not say
 what they think2 indeed they will not  
as a rule try to find out what they do  

think1 but prefer to traffic with the   
conventional counters4 ,yet what a      
refreshment it is to meet with a        
perfectly sincere person1 who makes you 
feel that you are in real contact with a
 human being6 ,this is what we ought to 
aim at in writing3 at a perfectly       
sincere presentment of our thoughts4 ,we
 cannot1 of course1 all of us hope to   
have views upon art1 upon theology1 upon
 politics1 upon education1 because we   
may not have any experience in these    
subjects2 but we have all of us         
experience in life1 in nature1 in       
emotion1 in religion2 and to express    
what we feel1 as sincerely as we can1 is
 certainly useful to ourselves1 because 
it clears our view1 leads us not to     
confuse hopes with certainties1 enables 
us to disentangle what we really believe
 from what we conventionally adopt4  ,of
 course this cannot be done all at once2
 when we first begin to write1 we find  
how difficult it is to keep the thread  
of our thoughts2 we keep turning out of 

the main road to explore attractive     
by-paths2 we cannot arrange our ideas4  
,all writers who produce original work  
pass through a stage in which they are  
conscious of a throng of kindred        
notions1 all more or less bearing on the
 central thought1 but the movements of  
which they cannot wholly control4 ,their
 thoughts are like a turbulent crowd1   
and one's business is to drill them into
 an ordered regiment4 ,a writer has to  
pass through a certain apprenticeship2  
and the cure for this natural vagueness 
is to choose small precise subjects1 to 
say all that we have in our minds about 
them1 and to stop when we have finished2
 not to aim at fine writing1 but at     
definiteness and clearness4  ,i suppose 
people arrive at their end in different 
ways2 but my own belief is that1 in     
writing1 one cannot do much by          
correction4 ,i believe that the best way
 to arrive at lucidity is by incessant  
practice2 we must be content to abandon 
and sacrifice faulty manuscripts        

altogether2 we ought not to fret over   
them and rewrite them4 ,the two things  
that ,i have found to be of infinite    
service to myself1 in learning to write 
prose1 have been keeping a full diary1  
and writing poetry4 ,the habit of       
diarizing is easily acquired1 and as    
soon as it becomes habitual1 the day is 
no more complete without it than it is  
complete without a cold bath and regular
 meals4 ,people say that they have not  
time to keep a diary2 but they would    
never say that they had not time to take
 a bath or to have their meals4 ,a diary
 need not be a dreary chronicle of one's
 movements2 it should aim rather at     
giving a salient account of some        
particular episode1 a walk1 a book1 a   
conversation4 ,it is a practice which   
brings its own reward in many ways2 it  
is a singularly delightful thing to look
 at old diaries1 to see how one was     
occupied1 say1 ten years ago2 what one  
was reading1 the people one was meeting1
 one's earlier point of view4 ,and then1

 further1 as ,i have said1 it has the   
immense advantage of developing style2  
the subjects are ready to hand2 and one 
may learn1 by diarizing1 the art of     
sincere and frank expression4  ,and then
 there is the practice of writing       
poetry2 there are certain years in the  
life of most people with a literary     
temperament1 when poetry seems the most 
natural and desirable mode of           
self-expression4 ,this impulse should be
 freely yielded to4 ,the poetry need not
 be very good2 ,i have no illusions1 for
 instance1 as to the merits of my own2  
but it gives one a copious vocabulary1  
it teaches the art of poise1 of cadence1
 of choice in words1 of picturesqueness4
 ,there comes a time when one abandons  
poetry1 or is abandoned by it2 and1     
after all1 prose is the most real and   
natural form of expression4 ,there      
arrives1 in the case of one who has     
practised poetical expression           
diligently1 a wonderful sense of        
freedom1 of expansiveness1 of delight1  

when he begins to use what has been     
material for poetry for the purposes of 
prose4 ,poetical expression is strictly 
conditioned by length of stanzas1       
dignity of vocabulary1 and the painful  
exigencies of rhyme4 ,how good are the  
days when one has escaped from all that 
tyranny1 when one can say the things    
that stir the emotion1 freely and       
liberally1 in flowing phrases1 without  
being brought to a stop by the severe   
fences of poetical form6 ,the melody1   
the cadence1 the rise and fall of the   
sentence1 antithesis1 contrast1         
mellifluous energy--these are the joys  
of prose2 but there is nothing like the 
writing of verse to make them easy and  
instinctive4  ,a word may be said about 
style4 ,stevenson said that he arrived  
at flexibility of style by frank and    
unashamed imitation of other writers2 he
 played1 as he said1 the sedulous ape to
 great authors4 ,this system has its    
merits1 but it also has its dangers4 ,a 
sensitive literary temperament is apt to

 catch1 to repeat1 to perpetuate the    
charming mannerisms of great writers4 ,i
 have sometimes had to write critical   
monographs on the work of great         
stylists4 ,it is a perilous business6   
,if for several months one studies the  
work of a contagious and delicate       
writer1 critically and appreciatively1  
one is apt to shape one's sentences with
 a dangerous resemblance to the cadences
 of the author whom one is supposed to  
be criticising4 ,more than once1 when my
 monograph has been completed1 ,i have  
felt that it might almost have been     
written by the author under examination2
 and there is no merit in that4 ,i am   
sure that one should not aim at         
practising a particular style4 ,the one 
aim should be to present the matter as  
clearly1 as vigorously1 as forcibly as  
one can2 if one does this sincerely1    
one's own personality will make the     
style2 and thus ,i feel that people     
whose aim is to write vigorously should 
abstain from even reading authors whose 

style affects them strongly4 ,stevenson 
himself dared not read ,livy2 ,pater    
confessed that he could not afford to   
read ,stevenson2 he added1 that he did  
not consider his own style better than  
the style of ,stevenson--rather the     
reverse--but he had his own theory1 his 
own method of expression1 deliberately  
adopted and diligently pursued4 ,he     
therefore carefully refrained from      
reading an author whom he felt          
unconsciously compelled to imitate4 ,the
 question of style1 then1 is one which a
 writer who desires originality should  
leave altogether alone4 ,it must emerge 
of itself1 or it is sure to lack        
distinctiveness4 ,i saw once a curious  
instance of this4 ,i knew a diligent    
writer1 whose hasty and unconsidered    
writings were forcible1 lively1 and     
lucid1 penetrated by his own poetical   
and incisive personality2 but he set no 
store by these writings1 and if they    
were ever praised in his presence1 he   
said that he was ashamed of them for    

being so rough4 ,this man devoted many  
years to the composition of a great     
literary work4 ,he took infinite pains  
with it2 he concentrated whole sentences
 into epithets2 he hammered and         
chiselled his phrases2 he was for ever  
retouching and rewriting4 ,but when the 
book at last appeared it was a complete 
disappointment4 ,the thing was really   
unintelligible2 it had no motion1 no    
space about it2 the reader had to devote
 heart-breaking thought to the          
exploration of a paragraph1 and was as a
 rule only rewarded by finding that it  
was a simple thought1 expressed with    
profound obscurity2 whereas the object  
of the writer ought to be to express a  
profound and difficult thought clearly  
and lucidly4 ,the only piece of literary
 advice that ,i have ever found to be of
 real and abiding use1 is the advice ,i 
once heard given by ,professor ,seeley  
to a youthful essayist1 who had involved
 a simple subject in mazes of irrelevant
 intricacy4 ,don't be afraid1 said the  

,professor1 of letting the bones show4  
,that is the secret3 a piece of literary
 art must not be merely dry bones2 the  
skeleton must be overlaid with delicate 
flesh and appropriate muscle2 but the   
structure must be there1 and it must be 
visible4  ,the perfection of lucid      
writing1 which one sees in books such as
 ,newman's ,apologia or ,ruskin's       
,praeterita1 seems to resemble a crystal
 stream1 which flows limpidly and       
deliciously over its pebbly bed2 the    
very shape of the channel is revealed2  
there are transparent glassy            
water-breaks over the pale gravel2 but  
though the very stream has a beauty of  
its own1 a beauty of liquid curve and   
delicate murmur1 its chief beauty is in 
the exquisite transfiguring effect which
 it has over the shingle1 the vegetation
 that glimmers and sways beneath the    
surface4 ,how dry1 how commonplace the  
pebbles on the edge look6 ,how stiff and
 ruinous the plants from which the water
 has receded6 ,but seen through the     

hyaline medium1 what coolness1 what     
romance1 what secret and remote mystery1
 lingers over the tiny pebbles1 the     
little reefs of rock1 the ribbons of    
weed1 that poise so delicately in the   
gliding stream6 ,what a vision of       
unimagined peace1 of cool refreshment1  
of gentle tranquillity1 it all gives6   
,thus it is with the transfiguring power
 of art1 of style4 ,the objects by      
themselves1 in the commonplace light1 in
 the dreary air1 are trivial and        
unromantic enough2 one can hold them in 
one's hand1 one seems to have seen them 
a hundred times before2 but1 plunged    
beneath that clear and fresh medium1    
they have a unity1 a softness1 a        
sweetness which seem the result of a    
magical spell1 an incommunicable        
influence2 they bring all heaven before 
the eyes2 they whisper the secrets of a 
region which is veritably there1 which  
we can discern and enjoy1 but the charm 
of which we can neither analyse nor     
explain2 we can only confess its        

existence with a grateful heart4 ,one   
who devotes himself to writing should   
find1 then1 his chief joy in the        
practice of his art1 not in the rewards 
of it2 publication has its merits1      
because it entails upon one the labour  
of perfecting the book as far as        
possible2 if one wrote without          
publication in view1 one would be       
tempted to shirk the final labour of the
 file2 one would leave sentences        
incomplete1 paragraphs unfinished2 and  
then1 too1 imperfect as reviews often   
are1 it is wholesome as well as         
interesting to see the impression that  
one's work makes on others4 ,if one's   
work is generally contemned1 it is      
bracing to know that one fails in one's 
appeal1 that one cannot amuse and       
interest readers4 ,high literature has  
often met at first with unmerited       
neglect and even obloquy2 but to incur  
neglect and obloquy is not in itself a  
proof that one's standard is high and   
one's taste fastidious4 ,moreover1 if   

one has done one's best1 and expressed  
sincerely what one feels and believes1  
one sometimes has the true and rare     
pleasure of eliciting a grateful letter 
from an unknown person1 who has derived 
pleasure1 perhaps even encouragement1   
from a book4 ,these are some of the     
pleasant rewards of writing1 and though 
one should not write with one's eye on  
the rewards1 yet they may be accepted   
with a sober gratitude4  ,of course     
there will come moods of discouragement 
to all authors1 when they will ask      
themselves1 as even ,tennyson confesses 
that he was tempted to do1 what1 after  
all1 it amounts to8 ,the author must    
beware of rating his own possibilities  
too high4 ,in looking back at one's own 
life1 in trying to trace what are the   
things that have had a deep and         
permanent influence on one's character1 
how rarely is it possible to point to a 
particular book1 and say1 ,that book    
gave me the message ,i most needed1 made
 me take the right turn1 gave me the    

requisite bias1 the momentous impulse8  
,we tend to want to do things on too    
large a scale1 to affect great masses of
 people1 to influence numerous hearts4  
,an author should be more than content  
if he finds he has made a difference to 
a handful of people1 or given innocent  
pleasure to a small company4 ,only to   
those whose heart is high1 whose        
patience is inexhaustible1 whose vigour 
is great1 whose emotion is passionate1  
is it given to make a deep mark upon the
 age2 and there is needed too the       
magical charm of personality1           
overflowing in thoughts that breathe and
 words that burn4 ,but we can all take a
 hand in the great game2 and if the     
leading parts are denied us1 if we are  
told off to sit among a row of supers1  
drinking and whispering on a bench1     
while the great characters soliloquize1 
let us be sure that we drain our empty  
cup with zest1 and do our whispering    
with intentness2 not striving to divert 
attention to ourselves1 but contributing

 with all our might to the naturalness1 
the effectiveness of the scene4     ,,xi
  ,,the ,,criticism ,,of ,,others   ,i  
was staying the other day in the house  
of an old friend1 a public man1 who is a
 deeply interesting character1          
energetic1 able1 vigorous1 with very    
definite limitations4 ,the only male    
guest in the house1 it so happened1 was 
also an old friend of mine1 a serious   
man4 ,one night1 when we were all three 
in the smoking-room1 our host rose1 and 
excused himself1 saying that he had some
 letters to write4 ,when he was gone1 ,i
 said to my serious friend3 ,what an    
interesting fellow our host is6 ,he is  
almost more interesting because of the  
qualities that he does not possess1 than
 because of the qualities that he does  
possess4 ,my companion1 who is          
remarkable for his power of blunt       
statement1 looked at me gravely1 and    
said3 ,if you propose to discuss our    
host1 you must find some one else to    
conduct the argument2 he is my friend1  

whom ,i esteem and love1 and ,i am not  
in a position to criticise him4 ,i      
laughed1 and said3 ,well1 he is my      
friend1 too1 and ,i esteem and love him2
 and that is the very reason why ,i     
should like to discuss him4 ,nothing    
that either you or ,i could say would   
make me love him less2 but ,i wish to   
understand him4 ,i have a very clear    
impression of him1 and ,i have no doubt 
you have a very clear impression too2   
yet we should probably differ about him 
in many points1 and ,i should like to   
see what light you could throw upon his 
character4 ,my companion said3 ,no2 it  
is inconsistent with my idea of loyalty 
to criticise my friends4 ,besides1 you  
know ,i am an old-fashioned person1 and 
,i disapprove of criticising people     
altogether4 ,i think it is a violation  
of the ninth commandment2 ,i do not     
think we are justified in bearing false 
witness against our neighbour4  ,but you
 beg the question1 ,i said1 by saying   
',,false witness4' ,i quite agree that  

to discuss people in a malicious spirit1
 or in a spirit of mockery1 with the    
intention of exaggerating their faults  
and making a grotesque picture of their 
foibles1 is wrong4 ,but two just        
persons1 such as you and ,i are1 may    
surely talk over our friends1 in what   
,mr4 ,chadband called a spirit of love8 
,my companion shook his head4 ,no1 he   
said1 ,i think it is altogether wrong4  
,our business is to see the good points 
of our friends1 and to be blind to their
 faults4 ,well1 ,i said1 then let us    
'praise him soft and low1 call him      
worthiest to be loved1' like the people 
in ',the ,princess4' ,you shall make a  
panegyric1 and ,i will say ',hear1      
hear6' ,you are making a joke out of it1
 said my companion1 and ,i shall stick  
to my principles--and you won't mind my 
saying1 he went on1 that ,i think your  
tendency is to criticise people much too
 much4 ,you are always discussing       
people's faults1 and ,i think it ends in
 your having a lower estimate of human  

nature than is either kind or necessary4
 ,to-night1 at dinner1 it made me quite 
melancholy to hear the way in which you 
spoke of several of our best friends4   
,not leaving ,lancelot brave nor        
,galahad pure6 ,i said2 in fact you     
think that ,i behaved like the ingenious
 demon in the ,acts1 who always seems to
 me to have had a strong sense of       
humour4 ,it was the seven sons of one   
,sceva1 a ,jew1 was it not1 who tried to
 exorcise an evil spirit8 ,but he 'leapt
 upon them and overcame them1 so that   
they fled out of the house naked and    
wounded4' ,you mean that ,i use my      
friends like that1 strip off their      
reputations1 belabour them1 and leave   
them without a rag of virtue or honour8 
,my companion frowned1 and said3 ,yes2  
that is more or less what ,i mean1      
though ,i think your illustration is    
needlessly profane4 ,my idea is that we 
ought to make the best of people1 and   
try as far as possible to be blind to   
their faults4 ,unless their fault       

happens to be criticism8 ,i said4 ,my   
companion turned to me very solemnly1   
and said3 ,i think we ought not to be   
afraid1 if necessary1 of telling our    
friends about their faults2 but that is 
quite a different thing from amusing    
oneself by discussing their faults with 
others4 ,well ,i said1 ,i believe that  
one is in a much better position to     
speak to people about their faults1 if  
one knows them2 and personally ,i think 
,i arrive at a juster view both of my   
friends' faults and virtues by          
discussing them with others4 ,i think   
one takes a much fairer view1 by seeing 
the impression that one's friends make  
on other people2 and ,i think that ,i   
generally arrive at admiring my friends 
more by seeing them reflected in the    
mind of another1 than ,i do when they   
are merely reflected in my own mind4    
,besides1 if one is possessed of        
critical faculties1 it seems to me      
absurd to rule out one part of life1 and
 that1 perhaps1 the most                

important--one's fellow-beings1 ,i      
mean--and to say that one is not to     
exercise the faculty of criticism there4
 ,you would not think it wrong1 for     
instance1 to criticise books8 ,no1 said 
my companion1 certainly not4 ,i think   
that it is not only legitimate1 but a   
duty1 to bring one's critical faculties 
to bear on books2 it is one of the most 
valuable methods of self-education4 ,and
 yet books are nothing but an expression
 of an author's personality1 ,i said4   
,would you go so far as to say that one 
has no business to criticise one's      
friends' books8 ,you are only arguing   
for the sake of arguing1 said my        
companion4 ,with books it is quite      
different2 they are a public expression 
of a man's opinions1 and consequently   
they are submitted to the world for     
criticism4 ,i confess1 ,i said1 that ,i 
do not think the distinction is a real  
one4 ,i feel sure one has a right to    
criticise a man's opinions1 delivered in
 conversation2 and ,i think that much of

 our lives is nothing but a more or less
 public expression of ourselves4 ,your  
position seems to me no more reasonable 
than if a man was to say3 ',i look upon 
the whole world1 and all that is in it1 
as the work of ,god2 and ,i am not in a 
position to criticise any of the works  
of ,god4' ,if one may not criticise the 
character of a friend whom one esteems  
and loves1 surely1 a fortiori1 we ought 
not to criticise anything in the world  
at all4 ,the whole of ethics1 the whole 
of religion1 is nothing else than       
bringing our critical faculties to bear 
upon actions and qualities2 and it seems
 to me that if our critical faculty     
means anything at all1 we are bound to  
apply it to all the phenomena we see    
about us4 ,my companion said            
disdainfully that ,i was indulging in   
the merest sophistry1 and that he       
thought that we had better go to bed1   
which we presently did4  ,i have1 since 
this conversation1 been reflecting about
 the whole subject1 and ,i am not       

inclined to admit that my companion was 
right4 ,in the first place1 if every one
 were to follow the principle that one  
had no business to criticise one's      
friends1 it would end in being          
deplorably dull4 ,imagine the appalling 
ponderosity of a conversation in which  
one felt bound to praise every one who  
was mentioned4 ,think of the insensate  
chorus which would arise4 ,how tall and 
stately ,a---- is6 ,how sturdy and      
compact ,b---- is6 ,then there is dear  
,c----2 how wise1 judicious1 prudent1   
and sensible6 ,and the excellent ,d----1
 what candour1 what impulsiveness6      
,e----1 how worthy1 how business-like6  
,yes1 how true that is6 ,how thankful we
 should be for the examples of ,a----1  
,b----1 ,c----1 ,d----1 and ,e----6 ,a  
very little of such conversation would  
go a long way4 ,how it would refresh and
 invigorate the mind6 ,what a field for 
humour and subtlety it would open up6   
,it may be urged that we ought not to   
regulate our conduct upon the basis of  

trying to avoid what is dull2 but ,i am 
myself of opinion that dulness is       
responsible for a large amount of human 
error and misery4 ,readers of ,the      
,pilgrim's ,progress will no doubt      
remember the young woman whose name was 
,dull1 and her choice of                
companions--,simple1 ,sloth1            
,presumption1 ,short-mind1 ,slow-pace1  
,no-heart1 ,linger-after-lust1 and      
,sleepy-head4 ,these are the natural    
associates of ,madam ,dull4 ,the danger 
of dulness1 whether natural or acquired1
 is the danger of complacently lingering
 among stupid and conventional ideas1   
and losing all the bright interchange of
 the larger world4 ,the dull people are 
not1 as a rule1 the simple people--they 
are generally provided with a narrow and
 self-sufficient code2 they are often   
entirely self-satisfied1 and apt to     
disapprove of everything that is lively1
 romantic1 and vigorous4 ,simplicity1 as
 a rule1 is either a natural gift1 or   
else can be attained only by people of  

strong critical powers1 who will1 firmly
 and vigorously1 test1 examine1 and     
weigh motives1 and arrive through       
experience at a direct and natural      
method of dealing with men and          
circumstances4 ,true simplicity is not  
an inherited poverty of spirit2 it is   
rather like the poverty of one who has  
deliberately discarded what is          
hampering1 vexatious1 and unnecessary1  
and has learnt that the art of life     
consists in disentangling the spirit    
from all conventional claims1 in living 
by trained impulse and fine instinct1   
rather than by tradition and authority4 
,i do not say that the dull people are  
not probably1 in a way1 the happier     
people2 ,i suppose that anything that   
leads to self-satisfaction is1 in a     
sense1 a cause of happiness2 but it is  
not a species of happiness that people  
ought to pursue4  ,perhaps one ought not
 to use the word dulness1 because it may
 be misunderstood4 ,the kind of dulness 
of which ,i speak is not inconsistent   

with a high degree1 not only of         
practical1 but even of mental1 ability4 
,i know several people of very great    
intellectual power who are models of    
dulness4 ,their memories are loaded with
 what is no doubt very valuable         
information1 and their conclusions are  
of the weightiest character2 but they   
have no vivid perception1 no alertness1 
they are not open to new ideas1 they    
never say an interesting or a suggestive
 thing2 their presence is a load on the 
spirits of a lively party1 their very   
facial expression is a rebuke to all    
light-mindedness and triviality4        
,sometimes these people are silent1 and 
then to be in their presence is like    
being in a thick mist2 there is no      
outlook1 no enlivening prospect4        
,sometimes they are talkers2 and ,i am  
not sure that that is not even worse1   
because they generally discourse on     
their own subjects with profound and    
serious conviction4 ,they have no power 
of conversation1 because they are not   

interested in any one else's point of   
view2 they care no more who their       
companions are1 than a pump cares what  
sort of a vessel is put under it--they  
only demand that people should listen in
 silence4 ,i remember not long ago      
meeting one of the species1 in this case
 an antiquarian4 ,he discoursed         
continuously1 with a hard eye1 fixed as 
a rule upon the table1 about the        
antiquities of the neighbourhood4 ,i was
 on one side of him1 and was far too    
much crushed to attempt resistance4 ,i  
ate and drank mechanically2 ,i said ,yes
 and ,very interesting at intervals2 and
 the only ray of hope upon the horizon  
was that the hands of the clock upon the
 mantelpiece did undoubtedly move1      
though they moved with leaden slowness4 
,on the other side of the savant was a  
lively talker1 ,matthews by name1 who   
grew very restive under the process4    
,the great man had selected ,dorchester 
as his theme1 because he had unhappily  
discovered that ,i had recently visited 

it4 ,my friend ,matthews1 who had been  
included in the audience1 made desperate
 attempts to escape2 and once1 seeing   
that ,i was fairly grappled1 began a    
conversation with his next neighbour4   
,but the antiquary was not to be put    
off4 ,he stopped1 and looked at         
,matthews with a relentless eye4        
,matthews1 he said1 ,,matthews6 raising 
his voice4 ,matthews looked round4 ,i   
was saying that ,dorchester was a very  
interesting place4 ,matthews made no    
further attempt to escape1 and resigned 
himself to his fate4  ,such men as the  
antiquary are certainly very happy      
people2 they are absorbed in their      
subject1 and consider it to be of       
immense importance4 ,i suppose that     
their lives are1 in a sense1 well spent1
 and that the world is in a way the     
gainer by their labours4 ,my friend the 
antiquary has certainly1 according to   
his own account1 proved that certain    
ancient earthworks near ,dorchester are 
of a date at least five hundred years   

anterior to the received date4 ,it took 
him a year or two to find out1 and ,i   
suppose that the human race has         
benefited in some way or other by the   
conclusion2 but1 on the other hand1 the 
antiquary seems to miss all the best    
things of life4 ,if life is an educative
 process1 people who have lived and     
loved1 who have smiled and suffered1 who
 have perceived beautiful things1 who   
have felt the rapturous and bewildering 
mysteries of the world--well1 they have 
learnt something of the mind of ,god1   
and1 when they close their eyes upon the
 world1 take with them an alert1 a      
hopeful1 an inquisitive1 an ardent      
spirit1 into whatever may be the next   
act of the drama2 but my friend the     
antiquary1 when he crosses the threshold
 of the unseen1 when he is questioned as
 to what has been his relation to life1 
will have seen and perceived1 and learnt
 nothing1 except the date of the        
,dorchester earthworks1 and similar     
monuments of history4  ,and of all the  

shifting pageant of life1 by far the    
most interesting and exquisite part is  
our relations with the other souls who  
are bound on the same pilgrimage4 ,one  
desires ardently to know what other     
people feel about it all--what their    
points of view are1 what their motives  
are1 what are the data on which they    
form their opinions--so that to cut off 
the discussion of other personalities1  
on ethical grounds1 is like any other   
stiff and ,puritanical attempt to limit 
interests1 to circumscribe experience1  
to maim life4 ,the criticism1 then1 or  
the discussion1 of other people is not  
so much a ,,cause of interest in life1  
as a ,,sign of it2 it is no more to be  
suppressed by codes or edicts than any  
other form of temperamental activity4   
,it is no more necessary to justify the 
habit1 than it is necessary to give good
 reasons for eating or for breathing2   
the only thing that it is advisable to  
do1 is to lay down certain rules about  
it1 and prescribe certain methods of    

practising it4 ,the people who do not   
desire to discuss others1 or who        
disapprove of doing it1 may be          
pronounced to be1 as a rule1 either     
stupid1 or egotistical1 or ,pharisaical2
 and sometimes they are all three4 ,the 
only principle to bear in mind is the   
principle of justice4 ,if a man         
discusses others spitefully or          
malevolently1 with the sole intention of
 either extracting amusement out of     
their foibles1 or with the still more   
odious intention of emphasizing his own 
virtues by discovering the weakness of  
others1 or with the cynical             
desire--which is perhaps the lowest of  
all--of proving the whole business of   
human life to be a vile and sordid      
spectacle1 then he may be frankly       
disapproved of1 and if possible avoided2
 but if a man takes a generous view of  
humanity1 if he admires what is large   
and noble1 if he gives full credit for  
kindliness1 strength1 usefulness1       
vigour1 sympathy1 then his humorous     

perception of faults and deficiencies1  
of whims and mannerisms1 of prejudices  
and unreasonablenesses1 will have       
nothing that is hard or bitter about it4
 ,for the truth is that1 if we are sure 
that a man is generous and just1 his    
little mannerisms1 his fads1 his ways1  
are what mostly endear him to us4 ,the  
man of lavish liberality is all the more
 lovable if he has an intense dislike to
 cutting the string of a parcel1 and    
loves to fill his drawers with little   
hanks of twine1 the untying of which    
stands for many wasted hours4 ,if we    
know a man to be simple-minded1         
forbearing1 and conscientious1 we like  
him all the better when he tells for the
 fiftieth time an ancient story1        
prefacing it by anxious inquiries1 which
 are smilingly rebutted1 as to whether  
any of his hearers have ever heard the  
anecdote before4  ,but we must not let  
this tendency1 to take a man in his     
entirety1 to love him as he is1 carry us
 too far2 we must be careful that the   

foibles that endear him to us are in    
themselves innocent4  ,there is one     
particular form of priggishness1 in this
 matter of criticism of others1 which is
 apt to beset literary people1 and more 
especially at a time when it seems to be
 considered by many writers that the    
first duty of a critic--they would      
probably call him an artist for the sake
 of the associations--is to get rid of  
all sense of right and wrong4 ,i was    
reading the other day a sensible and    
appreciative review of ,mr4 ,lucas's new
 biography of ,charles ,lamb4 ,the      
reviewer quoted with cordial praise ,mr4
 ,lucas's remark--referring1 of course1 
to the gin-and-water1 which casts1 ,i   
fear1 in my own narrow view1 something  
of a sordid shadow over ,lamb's         
otherwise innocent life--,a man must be 
very secure in his own righteousness who
 would pass condemnatory judgment upon  
,charles ,lamb's only weakness4 ,i do   
not myself think this a sound criticism4
 ,we ought not to abstain from          

condemning the weakness1 we must abstain
 from condemning ,charles ,lamb4 ,his   
beautiful virtues1 his tenderness1 his  
extraordinary sweetness and purity of   
nature1 far outweigh this weakness4 ,but
 what are we to do8 ,are we to ignore1  
to condone1 to praise the habit8 ,are we
 to think the better of ,charles ,lamb  
and love him more because he tippled8   
,would he not have been more lovable    
without it8  ,and the fact that one may 
be conscious of similar faults and moral
 weaknesses1 ought not to make one more1
 but less1 indulgent to such a fault    
when we see it in a beautiful nature4   
,the fault in question is no more in    
itself adorable1 than it is in another  
man who does not possess ,lamb's genius4
  ,we have a perfect right--nay1 we do  
well--to condemn in others faults which 
we frankly condemn in ourselves4 ,it    
does not help on the world if we go     
about everywhere slobbering with        
forgiveness and affection2 it is the    
most mawkish sentimentality to love     

people in such a way that we condone    
grave faults in them2 and to condone a  
fault because a man is great1 when we   
condemn it if he is not great1 is only a
 species of snobbishness4 ,it is right  
to compassionate sinners1 to find excuse
 for the faults of every one but        
ourselves2 but we ought not to love so  
foolishly and irrationally1 that we     
cannot even bring ourselves to wish our 
hero's faults away4  ,i confess to      
feeling the most minute and detailed    
interest in the smallest matters        
connected with other people's lives and 
idiosyncrasies4 ,i cannot bear          
biographies of the dignified order1     
which do not condescend to give what are
 called personal details1 but confine   
themselves to matters of undoubted      
importance4 ,when ,i have finished      
reading such books ,i feel as if ,i had 
been reading ,the ,statesman's          
,year-book1 or ,the ,annual ,register4  
,i have no mental picture of the hero2  
he is merely like one of those bronze   

statues1 in frockcoat and trousers1 that
 decorate our ,london squares4  ,i was  
reading1 the other day1 an              
ecclesiastical biography4 ,the subject  
of it1 a high dignitary of the ,church1 
had attended the funeral of one of his  
episcopal colleagues1 with whom he had  
had several technical controversies4 ,on
 the evening of the day he wrote a very 
tender and beautiful account of the     
funeral in his diary1 which is quoted at
 length3 ,how little1 he wrote1 the     
sense of difference1 and how strong my  
feeling of his power and solid sense2   
how little ,i care that he was wrong    
about the ,discipline ,bill1 how much   
that he was so happy with us in the     
summer2 how much that he was1 as all the
 family told me1 so 'devoted' to my     
,nellie6  ,that is a thoroughly human   
statement1 and preserves a due sense of 
proportion4 ,in the presence of death it
 is the kindly human relations that     
matter more than policies and           
statesmanship4  ,and so it may be said1 

in conclusion1 that we cannot taste the 
fulness of life1 unless we can honestly 
say1 ,nihil humani a me alienum puto4   
,if we grow absorbed in work1 in        
business1 in literature1 in art1 in     
policy1 to the exclusion of the nearer  
human elements1 we dock and maim our    
lives4 ,we cannot solve the mystery of  
this difficult world2 but we may be sure
 of this--that it is not for nothing    
that we are set in the midst of         
interests and relationships1 of liking  
and loving1 of tenderness and mirth1 of 
sorrow and pain4 ,if we are to get the  
most and the best out of life1 we must  
not seclude ourselves from these things2
 and one of the nearest and simplest of 
duties is the perception of others'     
points of view1 of sympathy1 in no      
limited sense2 and that sympathy we can 
only gain through looking at humanity in
 its wholeness4 ,if we allow ourselves  
to be blinded by false conscience1 by   
tradition1 by stupidity1 even by        
affection1 from realizing what others   

are1 we suffer1 as we always suffer from
 any wilful blindness2 indeed1 wilful   
blindness is the most desperate of all  
faults1 perhaps the only one that can   
hardly be condoned1 because it argues a 
confidence in one's own opinion1 a      
self-sufficiency1 a self-estimation1    
which shut out1 as by an opaque and     
sordid screen1 the light of heaven from 
the soul4     ,,xii  ,,priests   ,i have
 been fortunate in the course of my life
 in knowing1 more or less intimately1   
several eminent priests2 and by this ,i 
do not mean necessarily eminent         
ecclesiastics2 several famous           
ecclesiastics with whom circumstances   
have brought me into contact have not   
been priestly persons at all2 they have 
been vigorous1 wise1 energetic1         
statesmanlike men1 such as ,i suppose   
the ,pontifex ,maximus at ,rome might   
have been1 with a kind of formal1 almost
 hereditary1 priesthood4 ,and1 on the   
other hand1 ,i have known more than one 
layman of distinctly priestly character1

 priestly after the order of            
,melchizedek1 who had not1 ,i suppose1  
received any religious consecration for 
his ministry1 apart from perhaps a      
kingly initiation4  ,the essence of the 
priest is that he should believe        
himself1 however humbly and secretly1 to
 be set in a certain sense between      
humanity and ,god4 ,he is conscious1 if 
not of a mission1 at least of a         
vocation1 as an interpreter of secrets1 
a guardian of mysteries2 he would       
believe that there are certain people in
 the world who are called to be         
apostles1 whose work it is to remind men
 of ,god1 and to justify the ways of    
,god to men4 ,he feels that he stands1  
like ,aaron1 to make atonement2 that he 
is in a certain definite relation to    
,god1 a relation which all do not share2
 and that this gives him1 in a special  
sense1 something of the divine and      
fatherly relation to men4 ,in the hands 
of a perfectly humble1 perfectly        
disinterested man1 this may become a    

very beautiful and tender thing4 ,such a
 man1 from long and intimate relations  
with humanity1 will have a very deep    
knowledge of the human heart4 ,he will  
be surprised at no weakness or frailty2 
he will be patient with all perverseness
 and obduracy2 he will be endlessly     
compassionate1 because he will realize  
the strength and insistence of          
temptation2 he will be endlessly        
hopeful1 because he will have seen1 a   
hundred times over1 the flower of virtue
 and love blooming in an arid and       
desolate heart4 ,he will have seen close
 at hand the transforming power of      
faith1 even in natures which have become
 the shuddering victims of evil habit4  
,such a priest as ,i describe had       
occasion once to interview a great      
doctor about the terrible case of a     
woman of high social position who had   
become the slave of drink4 ,the doctor  
was a man of great force and ability1   
and of unwearying devotion2 but he was  
what would be called a sceptic and a    

materialist4 ,the priest asked if the   
case was hopeless2 the great doctor     
shrugged his shoulders4 ,yes1 he said1  
pathologically speaking1 it is hopeless2
 there may be periods of recovery1 but  
the course that the case will normally  
run will be a series of relapses1 each  
more serious and of longer duration than
 the last4 ,is there no chance of       
recovery on any line that you could     
suggest8 said the priest4 ,the two      
looked at each other1 both good men and 
true4 ,well1 said the doctor after a    
pause1 this is more in your line than   
mine2 the only possible chance lies in  
the will1 and that can only be touched  
through an emotion4 ,i have seen a      
religious emotion successful1 where     
everything else failed4 ,the priest     
smiled and said1 ,i suppose that would  
seem to you a species of delusion8 ,you 
would not admit that there was any      
reality behind it8 ,yes1 said the       
doctor1 a certain reality1 no doubt2 the
 emotional processes are at present     

somewhat obscure from the scientific    
point of view3 it is a forlorn hope4    
,yes1 said the priest1 and it is thus   
the kind of task for which ,i and those 
of my calling feel bound to volunteer4  
,of course one of the difficulties that 
the priest has to struggle against is   
his inheritance4 ,if we trace back the  
vocation of the priest to the earliest  
times1 we find their progenitors        
connected with some of the darkest and  
saddest things in human history4 ,they  
are of the same tribe as wizards and    
magicians1 sorcerers and medicine-men1  
the celebrators of cruel and unholy     
rites4 ,the priests of ,moloch1 of      
,chemosh1 of ,baal1 are the dark and    
ancient ancestors of the same vocation4 
,all who have trafficked in the terrors 
of mankind1 who have gained power by    
trading on superstitious imaginings1 who
 have professed to propitiate wrathful  
and malignant spirits1 to stand between 
men and their dreadful ,maker--all these
 have contributed their share to the    

dark and sad burden which the priest has
 to bear4 ,as soon as man1 rising out of
 pure savagery1 began to have any       
conception of the laws of nature1 he    
found in himself a deep instinct for    
happiness1 a terror of suffering and    
death2 yet1 at the same time1 he found  
himself set in a world where afflictions
 seemed to be rained down upon humanity 
by some mysterious1 unseen1 and awful   
power4 ,could man believe that ,god     
wished him well1 who racked him with    
cruel pain1 sent plagues among his      
cattle1 swept away those whom he loved1 
destroyed his crops with hail and       
thunderbolts1 and at the end of all     
dragged him reluctant and shuddering    
into the darkness1 out of a world where 
so much was kind and cheerful1 and      
where1 after all1 it was sweet to live8 
,he turned in his despair to any one who
 could profess to hold out any shield   
over him1 who could claim to read the   
dreadful mind of ,god1 and to propitiate
 ,his mercy4 ,even then a demand created

 a supply4 ,men have always loved power 
and influence2 and so spirits of sterner
 and more tenacious mould1 who could    
perhaps despise the lesser terrors of   
mankind1 and who desired1 above all     
things1 to hold the destinies of others 
in their hands1 to make themselves felt1
 naturally seized the opportunity of    
surrounding themselves with the awe and 
dignity that the supposed possession of 
deeper knowledge and more recondite     
powers offered them4  ,then as the world
 broadened and widened1 as reason began 
to extend its sway1 the work of the     
priest became more beneficent1 and      
tended to bless and hallow rather than  
to blast and curse4 ,but still the      
temptation remains a terribly strong one
 for men of a certain type1 men who can 
afford to despise the more material     
successes of the world1 who can merge   
their personal ambition in ambitions for
 an order and a caste1 still to claim to
 stand between man and ,god1 to profess 
to withhold ,his blessings1 to grasp the

 keys of ,his mysteries1 to save men    
from the consequences of sin4 ,as long  
as human terror exists1 as long as men  
fear suffering and darkness and death1  
they will turn to any one who can       
profess to give them relief2 and relief1
 too1 will come2 for the essence of     
courage is1 for many timid hearts1 the  
dependence upon a stronger will4 ,and if
 a man can say1 with a tranquil         
conviction1 to a suffering and terrified
 comrade1 ,there is no need to fear1 the
 fear loses half its terrors and half   
its sting4  ,now1 when religion of any  
kind becomes a part of the definite     
social life of the world1 there must of 
course be an order of ministers whose   
business it is to preach it1 and to     
bring it home to the minds of men4 ,such
 men will be set apart by a solemn      
initiation to their office2 the more    
solemn the initiation is1 the more      
faithful they will be4 ,the question    
rather is what extent of spiritual power
 such ministers may claim4 ,the essence 

of religious liberty is that men should 
feel that there is nothing whatever that
 stands between themselves and ,god2    
that they can approach ,god with perfect
 and simple access2 that they can speak 
to ,him without concealment of their    
sins1 and receive from ,him the         
comforting sense of the possibility of  
forgiveness4 ,of course the sense of sin
 is a terribly complicated one1 because 
it seems to be made up partly of an     
inner sense of transgression1 a sense of
 failure1 a consciousness that we have  
acted unworthily1 meanly1 miserably4    
,yet the sense of sin follows many acts 
that are not in themselves necessarily  
disastrous either to oneself or the     
community4 ,then there is a further     
sense of sin1 perhaps developed by long 
inheritance of instinct1 which seems to 
attend acts not in themselves sinful1   
but which menace the security of        
society4 ,for instance1 there is nothing
 sinful in a man's desiring to save     
himself1 and in fact saving himself1    

from a sudden danger4 ,if a man leaps   
out of the way of a runaway cart1 or    
throws himself on the ground to avoid   
the accidental discharge of a gun1 he   
would never be blamed1 nor would he     
blame himself1 for any want of courage4 
,yet if a man in a battle saves himself 
from death by flight1 he would regard   
himself1 and be regarded by others1 as  
having failed in his duty1 and he would 
be apt to feel a lifelong shame and     
remorse for having yielded to the       
impulse4 ,again1 the deliberate killing 
of another human being in a fit of      
anger1 however just1 would be regarded  
by the offender as a deeply sinful act1 
and he would not quarrel with the       
justice of the sentence of death which  
would be meted out to him2 but when we  
transfer the same act to the region of  
war1 which is consecrated by the usage  
of society1 a man who had slain a       
hundred enemies would regard the fact   
with a certain complacency1 and would   
not be even encouraged by a minister of 

religion to repent of his hundred       
heinous crimes upon his deathbed4  ,the 
sense1 then1 of sin is in a certain     
degree an artificial sense1 and would   
seem to consist partly of a deep and    
divine instinct which arraigns the soul 
for acts1 which may be in themselves    
trifling1 but which seem to possess the 
sinful quality2 and partly of a         
conventional instinct which considers   
certain things to be abominable1 which  
are not necessarily in themselves       
sinful1 because it is the custom of the 
world to consider them so4  ,and then to
 the philosopher there falls a darker   
tinge upon the whole matter1 when he    
considers that the evil impulses1 to    
yield to which is sin1 are in themselves
 deliberately implanted in man by his   
,creator1 or at least not apparently    
eradicated2 and that many of those whose
 whole life has been darkened1          
embittered1 and wrecked by sin1 have    
incurred their misery by yielding to    
tendencies which in themselves are1 by  

inheritance1 practically irresistible4  
,what room is there1 then1 in these     
latter days1 when reason and science    
together have dispelled the darkness of 
superstition1 have diminished the       
possibility of miraculous occurrences1  
have laughed empirical occultism out of 
the field1 for the priest8  ,there is no
 room for him if there lingers in the   
depth of his mind any taint of the      
temptation to serve his own ends1 or to 
exalt himself or his order1 by trading  
on the fears of irrational and credulous
 humanity4 ,against such priestcraft as 
this the true priest must array himself1
 together with the scientist1 the       
statesman1 the physician4 ,against all  
personal and priestly domination all    
lovers of liberty and ,god must combine4
 ,theirs is the sin of ,simon ,magus1   
the sin of ,hophni1 the sin of          
,caiaphas2 the sin that desires that men
 should still be bound1 in order that   
they may themselves win worship and     
honour4 ,it is the deadliest and vilest 

tyranny in the world4  ,but of the true 
priesthood there is more need than there
 ever was1 as the minds of men awaken to
 the truth2 for in a world where there  
is so much that is dark1 men need to be 
constantly encouraged1 reminded1 even   
rebuked4 ,the true priest must leave the
 social conscience alone1 and entrust it
 to the hands of statesmen and          
officials4 ,his concern must be with the
 individual2 he must endeavour to make  
men realize that tranquillity and       
security of heart can only be won by    
victories over self1 that law is only a 
cumbrous and incomplete organization for
 enforcing upon men a sense of equality2
 and he must show how far law lags      
behind morality1 and that a man may be  
legally respectable yet morally         
abominable4 ,the true priest must not   
obscure the oracles of ,god2 he must    
beware of1 teaching that faith is an    
intricate intellectual process4 ,he must
 pare religion to the bone1 and show    
that the essence of it is a perfectly   

simple relation with ,god and neighbour4
 ,he must not concern himself with      
policy or ceremony2 he must warn men    
against mistaking aesthetic impulse for 
the perception of virtue2 he must fight 
against precedent and tradition and     
custom2 he must realize that one point  
of union is more important than a       
hundred points of difference4 ,he must  
set himself against upholsteries and    
uniforms1 against formalities and       
rituals4 ,he must abjure wealth and     
position1 in favour of humble kindliness
 and serviceableness4 ,he must have a   
sense of poetry and romance and beauty  
about life2 where other men are artists 
in words1 in musical tones1 in pigments 
or sculptured stone1 he must be an      
artist in virtue4 ,he must be the friend
 and lover of humble1 inefficient1      
inarticulate1 unpleasing persons2 and he
 must be able to show that there is a   
desirable quality of beauty in the most 
sordid and commonplace action1 if       
faithfully performed4  ,against such an 

ideal are arrayed all the forces of the 
world4 ,christ and ,christ-like men have
 held up such an ideal to humanity2 and 
the sorrow of it is that1 the moment    
that such thoughts have won for         
themselves the incredible and instant   
power that they do win among mortals1   
men of impure motive1 who have desired  
the power more than the service1 have   
seized upon the source1 have fenced it  
off1 have systematized its distribution1
 have enriched themselves by withholding
 and denying it to all but those who can
 pay a price1 if not of wealth1 at all  
events of submission and obedience and  
recognition4  ,a man who desires the    
true priesthood may perhaps find it     
readiest to his hand in some            
ecclesiastical organization2 yet there  
he is surrounded by danger2 his impulses
 are repressed2 he must sacrifice them  
for the sake of the caste to which he   
belongs2 he is told to be cautious and  
prudent2 he is praised and rewarded for 
being conventional4 ,but a man may also 

take such a consecration for himself1 as
 a king takes a crown from the altar and
 crowns himself with might2 he need not 
require it at the hands of another4 ,if 
a man resolves not to live for himself  
or his own ambitions1 but to walk up and
 down in the earth1 praising simplicity 
and virtue and the love of ,god wherever
 he sees it1 protesting against tyranny 
and selfishness1 bearing others' burdens
 as far as he can1 he may exercise the  
priesthood of ,god4 ,such men are to be 
found in every ,church1 and even holding
 the highest places in them2 but such a 
priesthood is found1 though perhaps few 
suspect it1 by thousands among women    
where it is found by tens among men4    
,perhaps it may be said that if a man   
adds the tenderness of a woman to the   
serene strength of a man1 he is best    
fitted for the task2 but the truth lies 
in the fact that the qualities for the  
exercise of such an influence are to be 
found far more commonly among women than
 among men1 though accompanied as a rule

 by less consciousness of it1 and little
 desire to exercise it officially2      
indeed it is the very absence of egotism
 among women1 the absence of the        
personal claim1 that makes them less    
effective than they otherwise might be1 
because they do not hold an object or an
 aim dear enough4 ,they desire to       
achieve1 rather than to be known to have
 achieved2 and yet in this unperceptive 
world1 human beings are apt to choose   
for their guides and counsellors people 
whom they know by reputation1 rather    
than those whom they know familiarly4   
,and thus mere recognition often brings 
with it a power of wider influence1     
because people are apt to trust the     
judgment of others rather than their    
own4 ,in seeking for an adviser1 men are
 apt to consider who has the greatest   
reputation for wisdom1 rather than whom 
they themselves have found wisest2 and  
thus the man who seeks for influence    
often attains it1 because he has a wider
 circle of those who recommend him4 ,it 

is this absence of independent judgment 
that gives strength to the self-seeking 
priest2 while the natural priesthood of 
women is less recognized because it is  
attended with no advertisement4  ,the   
natural priest is one whom one can      
instinctively and utterly trust1 in whom
 one can deposit secrets as one deposits
 them in the custody of a bank1 without 
any fear that they will be used for     
other purposes4 ,in the true priest one 
finds a tender compassion1 a deep and   
patient love2 it is not worth while to  
wear disguises before him1 because his  
keen1 weary1 and amused eye sees through
 the mask4 ,it is not worth while to    
keep back1 as ,ananias did1 part of the 
price of the land1 to leave sordid      
temptations untold1 because the true    
priest loves the sinner even more than  
he hates the sin2 it is best to be      
utterly sincere with him1 because he    
loves sincerity even more than unstained
 virtue2 and one can confess to him     
one's desires for good with as little   

false shame as one can confess one's    
hankering after evil4 ,perhaps in one   
respect the man is more fitted to be a  
confessor than a woman1 because he has a
 deeper experience of the ardour and the
 pleasure of temptation2 and yet the    
deeper tenderness of the woman gives her
 a sympathy for the tempted1 which is   
not even communicated by a wider        
experience of sin4  ,perhaps there is   
nothing that reflects our               
anthropomorphic ideas of ,god more      
strongly than the fact that no          
revelation of prophets has ever         
conceived of the ,supreme ,deity as     
other than masculine2 and no doubt the  
,mariolatry of the ,church of ,rome is  
the reflection of the growing influence 
in the world of the feminine element2   
and yet the conception of ,god as       
masculine is in itself a limitation of  
,his infinite perfection4 ,that we      
should carry our conception of sex into 
the infinite is perhaps a mere failure  
of imagination1 and if we could divest  

ourselves of a thought which possibly   
has no reality in it1 we should perhaps 
grow to feel that the true priesthood of
 life could be exercised as well by     
women as by men1 or even better4 ,the   
true principle is that all those who are
 set free by a natural grace1 a divine  
instinct1 from grosser temptations1 and 
whose freedom leads them not to a cold  
self-sufficiency1 to a contempt for what
 is weaker1 but to an ardent desire to  
save1 to renew1 to upraise1 are the     
natural priests or priestesses of the   
world2 for the only way in which the    
priest can stand between man and ,god   
is1 when smaller and more hampered      
natures realize that he has a divine    
freedom and compassion conferred upon   
him1 which sets him above themselves2   
when they can feel that in religion it  
is better to agree with the saints than 
to differ from them2 when they can see  
that there are certain people whose     
religious intuitions can be trusted1    
because they are wider and deeper than  

the narrower intuitions of more         
elementary natures4  ,the priest1 then1 
that ,i would recognize is not the      
celebrator of lonely and forlorn        
mysteries1 the proprietor of divine     
blessings1 the posturer in solemn       
ceremonies1 but the man or woman of     
candid gaze1 of fearless heart1 of deep 
compassion1 of infinite concern4 ,it is 
these qualities which1 if they are      
there1 lend to rite and solemnity a     
holiness and a significance which they  
cannot win from antiquity or tradition4 
,such priests as these are the          
interpreters of the ,divine will1 the   
channels of ,divine grace2 and the hope 
of the race lies in the fact that such  
men and women are sent into the world1  
and go in and out among us1 more than in
 all the stately organizations1 the     
mysterious secrets1 the splendid        
shrines1 devised by the art of man to   
make fences about the healing spring2   
shrines where1 though sound and colour  
may lavish their rich hues1 their moving

 tones1 yet the raiment of the priest   
may hide a proud and greedy heart1 and  
the very altar may be cold4     ,,xiii  
,,ambition   ,i am afraid that ,milton's
 great line about ambition1       ,that 
last infirmity of noble minds1  is      
responsible for a good deal of harm1    
because it induces high-minded persons  
of inexact ideas to think ambition a    
noble infirmity1 or at least to believe 
that they need not try to get rid of    
their personal ambitions until they have
 conquered all their other evil         
dispositions4 ,i suppose that what      
,milton meant was that it was the       
hardest of all faults to get rid of2 and
 the reason why it is so difficult to   
eject it1 is because it is so subtle and
 ingenious a spirit1 and masquerades    
under such splendid disguises1 arrayed  
in robes of light4 ,a man who desires to
 fill a high position in the world is so
 apt to disguise his craving to himself 
by thinking1 or trying to think1 that he
 desires a great place because of the   

beneficent influence he can exert1 and  
all the good that he will be able to do1
 which shall stream from him as light   
from the sun4 ,of course to a           
high-minded man that is naturally one of
 the honest pleasures of an important   
post2 but he ought to be quite sure that
 his motive is that the good should be  
done1 and not that he should have the   
credit of doing it4 ,i have burnt my own
 fingers not once nor twice at the fire 
of ambition1 and the subject has been   
often in my mind4 ,but my experiences   
were so wholly unlike anything that ,i  
had anticipated1 though ,i suppose they 
are in reality normal enough1 that ,i   
will venture to set them down here4 ,the
 first curious experience was how1 on a 
nearer survey of the prospect of        
obtaining an important post1 all the    
incidental advantages and conveniences  
of the position sank into nothingness4  
,this was a quite unexpected            
development2 ,i had imagined that a     
prospect of dignity and importance would

 have had something vaguely sustaining  
about it4 ,a brilliant satirist once    
said that a curate did not as a rule    
desire to be a bishop that he might     
exercise a wide and useful influence1   
but primarily that he might be called my
 lord4 ,i myself was brought1 as a      
child1 in contact with one who was      
somewhat unexpectedly called to a high  
office4 ,i was much with him in the days
 when his honours first invested him1   
and ,i confess with a certain shame that
 it did undoubtedly seem to me that the 
dignity of the office1 the sense of     
power1 the obvious respect paid to him  
by people of position1 were things that 
must pleasantly sweeten a mortal cup4   
,the other day ,i was in the company of 
an eminent prelate2 there were three    
curates present3 they hovered round the 
great man like bees round a flower2 they
 gazed with innocent rapture upon his   
shapely legs1 somewhat strangely        
swathed1 as ,carlyle said1 his bright1  
grotesque hat2 and ,i could not help    

feeling that they thought how well such 
raiment would become themselves4 ,it is 
of course a childish view2 but then how 
long our childish views survive1 though 
hidden under grave pretences6 ,to see a 
great personage move with dignity to his
 appointed place in a great ceremony1   
attended by all the circumstances of    
pomp1 a congregation gazing1 with an    
organ above thundering out rich and     
solemn music1 how impressive it all     
appears6 ,how hard to think that the    
central actor in such a scene does not  
feel his heart swell with a complacent  
joy6 ,and yet ,i suppose that any       
sensible man under such conditions is   
far more likely to be oppressed with a  
sense of weakness and anxious           
responsibility2 how soon such           
surroundings ought to1 nay1 do find     
their true value in a wise man's mind6  
,the triumph rather is if1 in the midst 
of all this glitter and glory1 when a   
silence is made1 the worshipful man     
speaks simple and strong words out of a 

pure and noble heart2 and then one can  
feel that the pomp is nothing but the   
due homage of mankind for real          
greatness1 and that it has followed him 
rather than been followed by him4  ,it  
was a relief to find1 as ,i say1 that1  
on a nearer prospect1 all the           
circumstance of greatness vanished into 
shadow--indeed more than that--it became
 one of the distinct disadvantages of   
the position4 ,i felt that time and     
money and thought would have to be spent
 on the useless and fatiguing           
mise-en-scene1 and that it would all    
entail a quantity of futile worry1 of   
tiresome publicity1 of intolerable      
functions1 that meant nothing but       
weariness of spirit4 ,i think that men  
of high official position are most to be
 pitied because of the time that they   
have to spend1 not in their work1 but in
 the ornamental appearances entailed on 
them by their duties4 ,these things have
 a certain value1 ,i suppose1 in        
stimulating the imagination of gazers2  

but surely it is a poor value after all4
 ,a secretary of state in his study1    
working out the hard and tiresome       
details of a plan that will benefit     
perhaps a whole nation in humble ways1  
is a more admirable figure than the same
 man1 in ribbon and star1 bowing and    
smiling at an evening party4 ,and yet   
the dignified trappings of the post are 
what ordinary men desire4  ,the next    
step in my own progress when confronted1
 as ,i say1 with the prospect of the    
possibility that ,i might feel bound to 
accept an important position1 was the   
consciousness of the anxious and wearing
 responsibilities that it involved4 ,i  
felt that a millstone was to be bound   
round my neck1 and that ,i must bid     
farewell to what is after all the best  
gift of heaven1 my liberty2 a liberty   
won by anxious years of hard toil4  ,and
 here ,i have no doubt1 though ,i tried 
hard not to let it affect me1 that my   
desire not to sacrifice my liberty did  
make me exaggerate the difficulties that

 lay before me2 difficulties which ,i   
should probably have unconsciously      
minimized if ,i had desired the position
 which was in prospect4 ,it was a happy 
moment when ,i found myself relieved    
from the responsibility of undertaking  
an impossible task4 ,i felt1 too1 that  
,i was further disqualified by my       
reluctance to attempt the task2 a       
reluctance which a near prospect of the 
position had poignantly revealed to me4 
,a great task ought to be taken up with 
a certain buoyancy and eagerness of     
spirit1 not in heaviness and sadness4 ,a
 certain tremor of nerves1 a stage      
fright1 is natural to all sensitive     
performers4 ,but this is merely a kind  
of anteroom through which one must needs
 pass to a part which one desires to    
play2 but if one does not sincerely     
desire to play the part1 it is clear    
that to attempt it merely from a sense  
of duty is an ill omen for success4 ,and
 so ,i felt sincerely and humbly that ,i
 ought not to feel compelled to attempt 

it4 ,the conviction came in a flash like
 a divine intuition1 and was followed by
 a peace of mind which showed me that ,i
 was acting rightly4 ,i seemed too to   
perceive that the best work in the world
 was not the work of administration and 
organization1 but humble and individual 
ministries performed in a corner without
 tangible rewards4 ,for such work ,i was
 both equipped and prepared1 and ,i     
turned back to the fallentis semita     
vitae1 which is the true path for the   
sincere spirit1 aware that ,i had been  
truly and tenderly saved from committing
 a grave mistake4  ,perhaps if one could
 have looked at the whole question in a 
simpler and larger-minded way1 the      
result might have been different4 ,but  
here temperament comes in1 and the very 
complexities and intricacies that       
clouded the matter were of themselves   
evidence that after all it was the      
temperament that was at fault4 ,cecil   
,rhodes1 it is recorded1 once asked     
,lord ,acton why ,mr4 ,bent1 the        

explorer1 did not pronounce certain     
ruins to be of ,phoenician origin4 ,lord
 ,acton replied with a smile that it was
 probably because he was not sure4 ,ah6 
said ,cecil ,rhodes1 that is not the way
 that ,empires are made4 ,a true1       
interesting1 and characteristic comment2
 but it also contains a lesson that     
people who are not sure should not      
attempt to make empires1 or undertake   
tasks that involve the welfare of many4 
,and so there remains the duty to me1   
after my piece of experience1 to gather 
up the fragments that remain1 to        
interpret4 ,dante assigns the lowest    
place in the lower world to those who   
refuse a great opportunity1 but he is   
speaking of those who perversely reject 
a great task1 which is plainly in their 
power1 for some false and low motive4   
,but the case is different for those who
 have a great temptation put before     
them1 and who1 desiring to do what is   
right1 have it brought home to them in a
 convincing way that it is not their    

opportunity4 ,no one ought to assume    
great responsibilities if he is not     
equal to them4 ,one of the saddest      
things ever said on a human deathbed was
 what was said by a great ecclesiastic1 
who had disappointed the hopes that had 
been formed of him4 ,in his last moments
 he turned to one who stood near him and
 murmured1 ,i have held a great post1   
and ,i have not been equal to it4 ,the  
misery was that no one could sincerely  
contradict him4 ,it is not a piece of   
noble self-sacrifice to have assumed    
confidently a great responsibility to   
which one is not equal4 ,it is a mere   
mistake1 and a mistake which is even    
more reprehensible than the mistake of  
being over-persuaded into attempting a  
task for which one is not fitted4 ,one  
is given reason and common sense and    
prudence that one may use them1 and to  
act contrary to their dictates because  
those who do not know you so well as you
 know yourself advise you cheerfully    
that it will probably be all right1 is  

an act of criminal folly4 ,heavy        
responsibilities are lightly assumed    
nowadays1 because the temptations of    
power and publicity are very strong1 and
 because too high a value is set upon   
worldly success4 ,it is a plainer and   
simpler duty for those who wish to act  
rightly1 and who have formed a          
deliberate idea of own limitations1 to  
refuse great positions humbly and       
seriously1 if they know that they will  
be unequal to them4  ,of course ,i knew 
that ,i should be reproached with       
indolence and even cowardice4 ,i knew   
that ,i should be supposed to be one of 
those consistently impracticable people 
who insist on going off at a tangent    
when the straight course lies before    
them4 ,that ,i should be relegated to   
the class of persons who have failed in 
life through some deep-seated defect of 
will4 ,the worst of a serious decision  
of the kind is that1 whichever step one 
takes1 one is sure to be blamed4 ,i saw 
all this with painful clearness1 but it 

is better to be arraigned before the    
tribunal of other men's consciences than
 to be condemned before one's own4 ,it  
is better to refuse and be disappointed1
 than to accept and be disappointed4    
,failure in the course marked out1 in   
the event of acceptance1 would have been
 disastrous1 not only to myself but to  
the institution ,i was to be set to rule
 and guide4 ,far better that the task   
should be entrusted to one who had no   
diffidence1 no hesitation1 but a sincere
 confidence in his power of dealing with
 the difficulties of the situation1 and 
an ardent desire to grapple with them4  
,the only difficulty1 if one believes   
very strongly1 as ,i do1 in a great and 
wise ,providence that guides our path1  
is to interpret why the possibility of a
 great task is indicated to one if it is
 not intended that one should perform   
it4 ,but the essence of a true belief in
 the call of ,providence seems to me to 
lie not in the rash acceptance of any   
invitation that happens to come in one's

 way1 but a stern and austere judgment  
of one's own faculties and powers4 ,i   
have not the smallest doubt that        
,providence intended that this great    
task should be refused by me2 my only   
difficulty is to see what to make of it1
 and why it was even suggested4 ,one    
lesson is that one must beware of       
personal vanity1 another that one should
 not indulge in the temptation to desire
 important posts for any reason except  
the best3 the humble hope to do work    
that is useful and valuable4 ,if ,i had 
sternly repressed these tendencies at an
 earlier stage of life1 this temptation 
would not have been necessary1 nor the  
humiliation which inevitably succeeds   
it4  ,but       that is down need fear  
no fall1       ,he that is low no pride4
   ,and there can be now no more chance 
of these bitter and self-revealing      
incidents1 which show one1 as in a clear
 mirror1 the secret weaknesses of the   
heart4  ,but in setting aside the desire
 for the crowns and thrones of ambition1

 we must be very careful that we are not
 merely yielding to temptations of      
indolence1 of fastidiousness1 of        
cowardice1 and calling a personal motive
 unworldliness for the sake of the      
associations4 ,no man need set himself  
to seek great positions1 but a man who  
is diffident1 and possibly indolent1    
will do well to pin himself down in a   
position of responsibility and          
influence1 if it comes naturally in his 
way4 ,there are a good many men with    
high natural gifts of an instinctive    
kind who are yet averse to using them   
diligently1 who1 indeed1 from the very  
facility with which they exercise them1 
hardly know their value4 ,such men as   
these--and ,i have known                
several--undertake a great              
responsibility if they refuse to take   
advantage of obvious opportunities to   
use their gifts4 ,men of this kind have 
often a certain vague1 poetical1 and    
dreamy quality of mind2 a contemplative 
gift4 ,they see and exaggerate the      

difficulties and perils of posts of high
 responsibility4 ,if they yield to      
temptations of temperament1 they often  
become ineffective1 dilettante1         
half-hearted natures1 playing with life 
and speculating over it1 instead of     
setting to work on a corner of the      
tangle4 ,they hang spiritless upon the  
verge of the battle instead of mingling 
with the fray4 ,the curse of such       
temperaments is that they seem destined 
to be unhappy whichever way they decide4
 ,if they accept positions of           
responsibility1 they are fretted and    
strained by difficulties and obstacles2 
they live uneasily and anxiously2 they  
lose the buoyancy with which great work 
should be done2 if1 on the other hand1  
they refuse to come forward1 they are   
tortured with regrets for having        
abstained2 they become conscious of     
ineffectiveness and indecision2 they are
 haunted by the spectres of what might  
have been4  ,the only course for such   
natures is to endeavour to see where    

their true life lies1 and to follow the 
dictates of reason and conscience as far
 as possible4 ,they must resolve not to 
be tempted by the glamour of possible   
success1 but to take the true measure of
 their powers4 ,they must not yield to  
the temptation to trust to the          
flattering judgment that others may form
 of their capacities1 nor               
light-heartedly to shoulder a burden    
which they may be able to lift but not  
to carry4 ,such natures will sometimes  
attempt a great task with a certain glow
 and enthusiasm2 but they must ask      
themselves humbly how they will continue
 to discharge it when the novelty has   
worn off1 and when the prospect that    
lies before them is one of patient and  
unpraised labour4 ,it leads to worse    
disasters to over-estimate one's powers 
than to under-estimate them4 ,a man who 
over-estimates his capacities is apt to 
grow impatient1 and even tyrannical1 in 
the presence of difficulties4  ,and     
after all it may be said that humility  

is a rarer virtue than confidence2 and  
though it is not so popular1 though it  
does not appeal so much to the          
imagination1 it is a quality that may   
well be exercised1 if it is done without
 self-consciousness1 in these busy days 
and in these active western climes4 ,the
 best work of the world is done1 as ,i  
have said1 not by those who organize on 
a large scale1 but by those who work    
faithfully on individual lines1 in      
corners and byways4 ,indeed1 the success
 of those who organize and rule is due  
in part no doubt to the power that they 
may possess of inspiring silent effort1 
but is still more largely due to the    
faithful workers whose labours are      
unnoted1 who carry out great designs in 
a simple and quiet spirit4 ,there is    
strong warrant in the teaching of       
,christ for the work of those who are   
faithful in a few things4 ,there is no  
warrant for the action of those who     
stride into the front1 and clamour to be
 entrusted with the destinies of others4

 ,there can be no question that ,christ 
does not admit the value of ambition in 
any form as a motive for character4 ,the
 lives that ,he praises are the lives of
 quiet1 affectionate persons1 more      
concerned with the things of the spirit 
than with the things of the intellect4  
,the ,christian must concern himself1   
not with grasping at influence1 not even
 with setting his mark upon the world1  
but with the quality of his decisions1  
his work1 his words1 his thoughts4 ,the 
only thing possible for him is to go    
forward step by step1 trusting more to  
the guidance of ,god than to his own    
designs1 to what are called intuitions  
more than to reasoned conclusions4 ,in  
that spirit1 if he can attain to it1 he 
begins to be able to estimate things at 
their true value4 ,instead of being     
dazzled with the bright glare which the 
world throws upon the objects of his    
desire1 he sees all things in a pale1   
clear light of dawn1 and true aims begin
 to glow with an inner radiance4 ,he may

 tremble and hesitate before a decision1
 but once taken there is no looking     
back2 he knows that he has been guided1 
and that ,god has told him1 by silent   
and eloquent motions of the spirit1 what
 it is that ,he would have him to do2 he
 has but to interpret and to trust4     
,but even supposing that one has learnt 
one's own lesson in the school of       
ambition1 the question comes in as to   
how far it should be used as a motive   
for the young1 by those who are         
entrusted with educational              
responsibilities4 ,it is one of the most
 difficult things to decide as to what  
extent it is permissible to use motives 
that are lower than the highest1 because
 they may possess a greater             
effectiveness in the case of immature   
minds4 ,it is easy enough to say        
sincerely that one ought always to      
appeal to the highest possible motive2  
but when one is conscious that the      
highest motive is quite out of the      
horizon of the person concerned1 and    

practically is no motive at all1 is it  
not merely pedantry to insist upon      
appealing to the highest motive for     
one's own satisfaction8 ,it is not      
perhaps so difficult where the lower    
reason for a course of action is still a
 sound reason in itself1 as1 for        
instance1 if one is trying to help a man
 out of drunken habits4 ,the highest    
motive to appeal to is the truth that in
 yielding to sensual impulses1 in such a
 matter1 a man is falling short of his  
best ideal2 but a more practical motive 
is to point out the loss of health and  
respectability that results from the    
practice4 ,yet when one appeals to a    
boy's ambition1 and encourages him to be
 ambitious1 one cannot be quite certain 
whether one is not appealing to a false 
motive altogether4 ,the excuse for using
 it is the hope that1 when for the sake 
of ambition he has learnt diligence and 
perseverance1 he may grow to perceive   
that the competitive instinct1 which in 
its barest form is the desire to obtain 

desirable things at the expense of      
others1 is not in reality a good motive 
at all4 ,with immature characters part  
of the joy of success is that others    
have been beaten1 the pride of having   
carried off a prize which others are    
disappointed of obtaining4 ,and if one  
talks to an ambitious boy1 and tries to 
inculcate the principle that one should 
do one's best without caring about      
results1 one is generally conscious that
 he believes it to be only a tiresome   
professional platitude1 the kind of     
sentiment in which older people think   
fit to indulge for the purpose1 if      
possible1 of throwing cold water on     
innocent enjoyment4  ,yet1 after all1   
how very few people there are who do    
learn the further lesson6 ,the          
successful man generally continues to   
show to the end of his life a contempt  
for unsuccessful persons1 which is only 
good-humoured because of the            
consciousness of his own triumph2 how   
rare1 again1 it is to find an           

unsuccessful person who does not        
attempt1 if he can1 to belittle the     
attainments of his successful rival1 or 
who at least1 if he overcomes that      
temptation from a sense of propriety1   
feels entitled to nourish a secret      
satisfaction at any indication of       
failure on the part of the man who has  
obtained the prize that he himself      
coveted in vain4 ,yet if one has ever   
seen1 as ,i have1 the astonishing change
 of both work and even character which  
may come over a boy or a young man who  
is perhaps diffident and indolent1 if   
one can get him to do a successful piece
 of work1 or push an opportunity in his 
way and help him to seize it1 one       
hesitates before ruling out the use of  
ambition as an incentive4 ,perhaps it is
 uneasy and casuistical morality to     
shrink from using this incentive1 so    
long as one faithfully puts the higher  
side of the question before a boy as    
well4 ,but when one is quite sure that  
the larger aspect of the case will fall 

on deaf ears1 and that only the lower   
stimulus will be absorbed1 one is apt to
 hesitate4 ,i am inclined1 however1 to  
think that such hesitation is on the    
whole misplaced1 and that in dealing    
with immature minds one must be content 
to use immature motives4 ,there is a    
temptation to try and keep the education
 of people too much in one's own hands1 
and to feel oneself to be too           
responsible in the matter4 ,i have a    
friend who errs in this respect1 and who
 is apt to assume too wide a            
responsibility in dealing with others1  
who was gently rebuked by a wise-hearted
 teacher of wide and deep experience1   
who said on one occasion1 when          
over-anxiety had spoilt the effect of my
 friend's attempts1 that he ought to be 
content to leave something for ,god to  
do4  ,but for oneself1 one must try to  
learn the large lesson in the course of 
time1 to learn that the sense of        
ambition is often1 in reality1 only a   
sense of personal vanity and            

self-confidence disguised2 and that the 
one possible attitude of mind is to go  
humbly and patiently forward1 desiring  
the best1 labouring faithfully and      
abundantly1 neither seeking nor avoiding
 great opportunities1 not failing in    
courage nor giving way to rash impulses1
 and realizing the truth of the wise old
 ,greek proverb that the greatest of all
 disasters for a man is to be opened and
 found to be empty2 the wise application
 of which to life is not to avoid the   
occasions of opening1 but to make sure  
that if the opening comes inevitably1 we
 shall be found not to have devoted     
ourselves to the adorning of the casket1
 but to have piled with careful hands   
the treasure high within4     ,,xiv     
,,the ,,simple ,,life   ,there is a good
 deal of talk just now about the simple 
life1 and though ,i would not go so far 
as to say that there is a movement in   
the direction of it1 yet the talk that  
one hears on many sides proves1 at all  
events1 that people take a certain      

interest in the question4  ,part of it  
is a pose no doubt2 there is a          
distinguished1 and ,i would add very    
charming1 lady of my acquaintance1 who  
has the subject constantly on her lips4 
,her method of practising simplicity is 
a delightful one1 as all her methods    
are4 ,in addition to the three          
magnificent residences which she already
 possesses1 she has bought a cottage in 
a secluded part of the country2 she has 
spent a large sum of money in adding to 
it2 it is furnished with that stately   
austerity which can only be achieved at 
great expense4 ,she motors down there1  
perhaps three times in the year1 and    
spends three days there1 on each visit1 
with two or three friends who are       
equally in love with simplicity2 ,i was 
fortunate enough1 the other day1 to be  
included in one of these parties2 the   
only signs of simplicity to the complex 
mind were that there were only five     
courses at dinner1 that we drank        
champagne out of rather old-fashioned   

long glasses1 and that two goats were   
tethered in a corner of the lawn4 ,the  
goats ,i understood were the seal and   
symbol of the simple life4 ,no use was  
made of them1 and they were decidedly in
 the way1 but without them life would   
have been complicated at once4  ,when we
 went off again in the motor1 my        
charming hostess waved her hand at the  
little cottage1 as we turned the corner1
 with a sigh1 as of one condemned by a  
stern fate to abjure the rural felicity 
which she loved1 and then settled down  
with delighted zest to discuss her      
programme of social engagements for the 
next few weeks4  ,it had certainly been 
very delightful2 we had talked all day  
long2 we had wandered1 adoring          
simplicity1 on the village green2 we had
 attended an evening service in the     
church2 we had consumed exquisitely     
cooked meals about an hour before the   
usual time1 because to breakfast at     
eight and to dine at seven was all part 
of the pretty game4 ,i ventured to ask  

my hostess how she would like to spend  
six months in her cottage comparatively 
alone1 and she replied with deep        
conviction1 ,i should adore it2 ,i would
 give all ,i possess to be able to do   
it4 ,then it is nothing1 ,i said1 but a 
sense of duty that tears you away8 ,to  
which she made no answer except to shake
 her head mournfully1 and to give me a  
penetrating smile4  ,i cannot help      
wondering whether the people who talk   
about the simple life have any idea what
 it means2 ,i do not think that my fair 
hostess's desire for it is altogether a 
pose4 ,one who lives1 as she does1 in   
the centre of the fashionable world1    
must inevitably tire of it from time to 
time4 ,she meets the same people over   
and over again1 she hears the same      
stories1 the same jokes2 she is not     
exactly an intellectual woman1 though   
she has a taste for books and music2 the
 interest for her1 in the world in which
 she lives1 is the changing relations of
 people1 their affinities1 their        

aversions1 their loves and hates1 their 
warmth and their coldness4 ,what        
underlies the shifting scene1 the       
endless entertainments1 the             
country-house visits1 the ebb and flow  
of society1 is really the mystery of    
sex4 ,people with not very much to do   
but to amuse themselves1 with no        
prescribed duties1 with few intellectual
 interests1 become preoccupied in what  
is the great underlying force in the    
world1 the passion of love2 the talk    
that goes on1 dull and tiresome as it   
appears to an outsider1 is all charged  
with the secret influence2 it is not    
what is said that matters2 it is what is
 implied by manner and glance and       
inflection of tone4 ,this atmosphere of 
electrical emotion is1 for a good many  
years of their lives1 the native air of 
these fair and unoccupied women4 ,men   
drift into it and out of it1 and it     
provides for them often no more than a  
beautiful and thrilling episode2 they   
become interested in sport1 in          

agriculture1 in politics1 in business2  
but with women it is different2 lovers  
and husbands1 emotional friendships with
 other women--these constitute the      
business of life for a time2 and then   
perhaps the tranquillizing and purer    
love of children1 the troubles and joys 
of growing boys and girls1 come in to   
fill the mind with a serener and        
kindlier1 though not less passionate an 
emotion2 and so life passes1 and age    
draws near4  ,it is thus easier for men 
to lead the simple life than women1     
because they find it natural to grow    
absorbed in some definite and tangible  
occupation2 and1 after all1 the essence 
of the simple life is that it can be    
lived in any milieu and under any       
circumstances4 ,it does not require a   
cottage orne and a motor1 though these  
are not inconsistent with it1 if only   
they are natural4  ,i would try to trace
 what ,i believe the essence of the     
simple life to be2 it lies very far down
 in the spirit1 among the roots of life4

 ,the first requisite is a perfect      
sincerity of character4 ,this implies   
many things3 it means a joyful          
temperance of soul1 a certain clearness 
and strength of temperament4 ,the truly 
simple person must not be vague and     
indeterminate1 swayed by desire or      
shifting emotion2 he must meet others   
with a candid frankness1 he must have no
 petty ambitions1 he must have wide and 
genial interests1 he must be quick to   
discern what is beautiful and wise2 he  
must have a clear and straightforward   
point of view2 he must act on his own   
intuitions and beliefs1 not simply try  
to find out what other people are       
thinking and try to think it too2 he    
must in short be free from              
conventionality4 ,the essence of the    
really simple character is that a man   
should accept his environment and       
circle2 if he is born in the so-called  
world1 he need not seek to fly from it4 
,such a character as ,i have described  
has a marvellous power of evoking what  

is sincere and simple in other natures2 
such a one will tend to believe that    
other people are as straightforward and 
genuine as himself2 and he will not be  
wholly mistaken1 because when they are  
with him1 they will be simple too4 ,the 
simple person will have a strong1 but   
not a ,pharisaical1 sense of duty2 he   
will probably credit other people with  
the same sense of duty1 and he will not 
often feel himself bound to disapprove  
of others1 reserving his indignation for
 any instances of cruelty1 meanness1    
falseness1 and selfishness that he may  
encounter4 ,he will not be suspicious or
 envious4 ,yet he will not necessarily  
be what is called a religious man1      
because his religion will be rather     
vital than technical4 ,to be religious  
in the technical sense of the word--to  
care1 that is1 for religious services   
and solemnities1 for priestly           
influences1 for intricate doctrinal     
emotions--implies a strong artistic     
sense1 and is often very far removed    

from any simplicity of conduct4 ,but on 
the other hand the simple man will have 
a strong sense of responsibility1 a deep
 confidence in the ,will of ,god and    
,his high purposes4  ,and thus the      
simple man will scarcely be a man of    
leisure1 because there is so much that  
he will desire to do1 and which he will 
feel called upon to do4 ,whatever he    
considers to be his work1 he will do    
with a cheerful energy1 which will      
sustain him far beyond the threshold of 
fatigue4 ,his personal wants will be    
few2 he will not care for spending money
 for the sake of spending it1 but he    
will be liberal and generous whenever   
there is need4 ,he will be uneasy in    
luxury4 ,he will be a lover of the open 
air and of the country1 but his aim will
 be exercise1 and the sense of health   
and vigour1 rather than amusement4 ,he  
will never be reduced to asking himself 
how he is going to spend the day1 for   
the present day1 and a long perspective 
of days ahead1 will already be full by  

anticipation4 ,he will take work1       
amusement1 people1 as they come1 and he 
will not be apt to make plans or to     
arrange parties1 because he will expect 
to find in ordinary life the amusement  
and the interest that he desires4 ,he   
will be above all things tender-hearted1
 kind1 and fearless4 ,he will not take  
fancies to people1 or easily discard a  
friend2 but he will be courteous1 kind  
to all weakness1 compassionate to       
awkwardness1 fond of children1          
good-natured1 loving laughter and       
peacefulness2 he will not be easily     
disappointed1 and he will have no time  
to be fretful1 if things do not turn out
 exactly as he desires4  ,i have known  
such persons in every rank of life4     
,they are the people who can be depended
 upon to do what they undertake1 to     
understand the difficulties of others1  
to sympathize1 to help4 ,the essence of 
it all is a great absence of            
self-consciousness1 and such people as  
,i have described would be genuinely    

surprised1 as a rule1 if they were told 
that they were living a different life  
from the lives of others4  ,this        
simplicity of nature is not often found 
in conjunction with very great artistic 
or intellectual gifts2 but when it is so
 found1 it is one of the most perfect   
combinations in the world4  ,the one    
thing that is entirely fatal to         
simplicity is the desire to stimulate   
the curiosity of others in the matter4  
,the most conspicuous instance of this1 
in literature1 is the case of ,thoreau1 
who is by many regarded as the apostle  
of the simple life4 ,thoreau was a man  
of extremely simple tastes1 it is true4 
,he ate pulse1 whatever that may be1 and
 drank water2 he was deeply interested  
in the contemplation of nature1 and he  
loved to disembarrass himself of all the
 apparatus of life4 ,it was really that 
he hated trouble more than anything in  
the world2 he found that by working six 
weeks in the year1 he could earn enough 
to enable him to live in a hut in a wood

 for the rest of the twelvemonth2 he did
 his household work himself1 and his    
little stock of money sufficed to buy   
him food and clothes1 and to meet his   
small expenses4 ,but ,thoreau was       
indolent rather than simple2 and what   
spoilt his simplicity was that he was   
for ever hoping that he would be        
observed and admired2 he was for ever   
peeping out of the corner of his eye1 to
 see if inquisitive strangers were      
hovering about to observe the hermit at 
his contemplation4 ,if he had really    
loved simplicity best1 he would have    
lived his life and not troubled himself 
about what other people thought of him2 
but instead of that he found his own    
simplicity a deeply interesting and     
refreshing subject of contemplation4 ,he
 was for ever looking at himself in the 
glass1 and describing to others the     
rugged1 sunbrowned1 slovenly1 solemn    
person that he saw there4  ,and then1   
too1 it was easier for ,thoreau to make 
money than it would be for the ordinary 

artisan4 ,when ,thoreau wrote his famous
 maxim1 ,to maintain oneself on this    
earth is not a hardship but a pastime1  
he did not add that he was himself a man
 of remarkable mechanical gifts2 he     
made1 when he was disposed1 admirable   
pencils1 he was an excellent            
land-surveyor1 and an author as well2   
moreover1 he was a celibate by nature4  
,he would no doubt have found1 if he had
 had a wife and children1 and no        
aptitude for skilled labour1 that he    
would have had to work as hard as any   
one else4  ,thoreau had1 too1 a quality 
which is in itself an economical thing4 
,he did not care in the least for       
society4 ,he said that he would rather  
keep bachelor's hall in hell than go to 
board in heaven4 ,he was not a sociable 
man1 and sociability is in itself       
expensive4 ,he had1 it is true1 some    
devoted friends1 but it seems that he   
would have done anything for them except
 see them4 ,he was a man of many virtues
 and no vices1 but he was most at his   

ease with faddists4 ,not that he avoided
 his fellow-men2 he was always ready to 
see people1 to talk1 to play with       
children1 but on the other hand society 
was not essential to him4 ,yet1 just and
 virtuous as he was1 there was something
 radically unamiable about him3 ,i love 
,henry1 one of his friends said of him1 
but ,i cannot like him2 and as for      
taking his arm ,i should as soon think  
of taking the arm of an elm-tree4 ,he   
was in fact an egotist with strong      
fancies and preferences2 and1 though he 
was an ascetic by preference1 he cannot 
be called a simple-minded man1 because  
the essence of simplicity is not to ride
 a hobby hard4 ,he thought and talked   
too much about simplicity2 and the fact 
is that simplicity1 like humility1      
cannot exist side by side with          
self-consciousness4 ,the moment that a  
man is conscious that he is simple and  
humble1 he is simple and humble no      
longer4 ,you cannot become humble by    
reminding people constantly1 like ,uriah

 ,heep1 of your humility2 similarly you 
cannot become simple1 by doing          
elaborately1 and making a parade of     
doing1 the things that the simple man   
would do without thinking about them4   
,it is almost true to say that the      
people who are most in love with        
simplicity are often the most           
complicated natures4 ,they become weary 
of their own complexity1 and they fancy 
that by acting on a certain regimen they
 can arrive at tranquillity of soul4 ,it
 is in reality just the other way4 ,one 
must become simple in soul first1 and   
the simple setting follows as a matter  
of course4 ,if a man can purge himself  
of ambition1 and social pride1 and      
ostentation1 and the desire of praise1  
his life falls at once into a simple    
mould1 because keeping up appearances is
 the most expensive thing in the world2 
to begin with eating pulse and drinking 
water1 is as if a man were to wear his  
hair like ,tennyson1 and expect to      
become a poet thereby4 ,asceticism is   

the sign and not the cause of           
simplicity4 ,the simple life will become
 easy and common enough when people have
 simple minds and hearts1 when they do  
the duties that lie ready to their hand1
 and do not crave for recognition4      
,neither can simplicity be brought about
 by a movement4 ,there is nothing which 
is more fatal to it than that people    
should meet to discuss the subject2 it  
can only be done by individuals1 and in 
comparative isolation4 ,a friend of mine
 dreamed the other day that she was     
discussing the subject of mission       
services with a stranger2 she defended  
them in her dream with great warmth and 
rhetoric3 when she had done1 her        
companion said1 ,well1 to tell you the  
truth1 ,i don't believe in people being 
inspired ,,in ,,rows4 ,this oracular    
saying has a profound truth in it--that 
salvation is not to be found in public  
meetings2 and that to assemble a number 
of persons1 and to address them on the  
subject of simplicity1 is the surest way

 to miss the charm of that secluded     
virtue4  ,the worst of it is that the   
real1 practical1 moral simplicity of    
which ,i have been speaking is not an   
attractive thing to a generation fond of
 movement and excitement2 what they     
desire is a picturesque mise-en-scene1 a
 simplicity which comes as a little     
pretty interlude to busy life2 they do  
not desire it in its entirety and       
continuously4 ,they would find it dull1 
triste1 ennuyant4  ,thus it must fall   
into the hands of individuals to        
practise it1 who are sincerely enamoured
 of quietness and peace4 ,the simple man
 must have a deep fund of natural joy   
and zest2 he must bring his own         
seasoning to the plain fare of life2 but
 if he loves the face of nature1 and    
books1 and his fellow-men1 and above    
all1 work1 there is no need for him to  
go out into the wilderness in pursuit of
 a transcendental ideal4 ,but those     
whose spirits flag and droop in         
solitude2 who open their eyes upon the  

world1 and wonder what they will find to
 do2 who love talk and laughter and     
amusement2 who crave for alcoholic      
mirth1 and the song of them that feast1 
had better make no pretence of pursuing 
a spirit which haunts the country lane  
and the village street1 the rough       
pasture beside the brimming stream1 the 
forest glade1 with the fragrant breeze  
blowing cool out of the wood4           
,simplicity1 to be successfully         
attained1 must be the result of a       
passionate instinct1 not of a           
picturesque curiosity2 and it is useless
 to lament that one has no time to      
possess one's soul1 if1 when one visits 
the innermost chamber1 there is nothing 
there but cobwebs and ugly dust4        
,,xv  ,,games   ,it requires almost more
 courage to write about games nowadays  
than it does to write about the         
,decalogue1 because the higher criticism
 is tending to make a belief in the     
,decalogue a matter of taste1 while to  
the ordinary ,englishman a belief in    

games is a matter of faith and morals4  
,i will begin by saying frankly that ,i 
do not like games2 but ,i say it1 not   
because any particular interest attaches
 to my own dislikes and likes1 but to   
raise a little flag of revolt against a 
species of social tyranny4 ,i believe   
that there are a good many people who do
 not like games1 but who do not dare to 
say so4 ,perhaps it may be thought that 
,i am speaking from the point of view of
 a person who has never been able to    
play them4 ,a vision rises in the mind  
of a spectacled owlish man1 trotting    
feebly about a football field1 and      
making desperate attempts to avoid the  
proximity of the ball2 or joining in a  
game of cricket1 and fielding a drive   
with the air of a man trying to catch an
 insect on the ground1 or sitting in a  
boat with the oar fixed under his chin1 
being forced backwards with an air of   
smiling and virtuous confusion4 ,i      
hasten to say that this is not a true   
picture4 ,i arrived at a reasonable     

degree of proficiency in several games3 
,i was a competent1 though not a        
zealous1 oar2 ,i captained a college    
football team1 and ,i do not hesitate to
 say that ,i have derived more pleasure 
from football than from any other form  
of exercise4 ,i have climbed some       
mountains1 and am even a member of the  
,alpine ,club2 ,i may add that ,i am a  
keen1 though not a skilful1 sportsman1  
and am indeed rather a martyr to        
exercise and open air4 ,i make these    
confessions simply to show that ,i do   
not approach the subject from the point 
of view of a sedentary person but indeed
 rather the reverse4 ,no weather appears
 to me to be too bad to go out in1 and  
,i do not suppose there are a dozen days
 in the year in which ,i do not contrive
 to get exercise4  ,but exercise in the 
open air is one thing1 and games are    
quite another4 ,it seems to me that when
 a man has reached an age of discretion1
 he ought no longer to need the stimulus
 of competition1 the desire to hit or   

kick balls about1 the wish to do such   
things better than other people4 ,it    
seems to me that the elaborate          
organization of athletics is a really   
rather serious thing1 because it makes  
people unable to get on without some    
species of excitement4 ,i was staying   
the other day at a quiet house in the   
country1 where there was nothing        
particular to do2 there was not1 strange
 to say1 even a golf course within      
reach4 ,there came to stay there for a  
few days an eminent golfer1 who fell    
into a condition of really pitiable     
dejection4 ,the idea of taking a walk or
 riding a bicycle was insupportable to  
him2 and ,i think he never left the     
house except for a rueful stroll in the 
garden4 ,when ,i was a schoolmaster it  
used to distress me to find how         
invariably the parents of boys          
discoursed with earnestness and         
solemnity about a boy's games2 one was  
told that a boy was a good field1 and   
really had the makings of an excellent  

bat2 eager inquiries were made as to    
whether it was possible for the boy to  
get some professional coaching2 in the  
case of more philosophically inclined   
parents it generally led on to a        
statement of the social advantages of   
being a good cricketer1 and often to the
 expression of a belief that virtue was 
in some way indissolubly connected with 
keenness in games4 ,for one parent who  
said anything about a boy's intellectual
 interests1 there were ten whose        
preoccupation in the boy's athletics was
 deep and vital4  ,it is no wonder that1
 with all this parental earnestness1    
boys tended to consider success in games
 the one paramount object of their      
lives2 it was all knit up with social   
ambitions1 and it was viewed1 ,i do not 
hesitate to say1 as of infinitely more  
importance than anything else4 ,i do not
 mean to say that many of the boys did  
not consider it important to be good1   
and did not desire to be conscientious  
about their work4 ,but as a practical   

matter games were what they thought     
about and talked about1 and what aroused
 genuine enthusiasm4 ,they were disposed
 to despise boys who could not play     
games1 however virtuous1 kindly1 and    
sensible they might be2 an entire lack  
of conscientiousness1 and even grave    
moral obliquity1 were apt to be condoned
 in the case of a successful athlete4   
,we masters1 ,i must frankly confess1   
did not make any serious attempt to     
fight the tendency4 ,we spent our spare 
time in walking about the cricket and   
football fields1 in looking on1 in      
discussing the fine nuances in the style
 of individual players4 ,it was very    
natural to take an interest in the thing
 which was to the boys a matter of      
profound concern2 but what ,i should be 
inclined to censure was that it was     
really a matter of profound concern with
 ourselves2 and we did not take a kindly
 and paternal interest in the matter1 so
 much as the interest of enthusiasts and
 partisans4  ,it is very difficult to   

see how to alter this4 ,probably1 like  
other deep-seated national tendencies1  
it will have to cure itself4 ,it would  
be impossible to insist that the        
educators of youth should suppress the  
interest which they instinctively and   
genuinely feel in games1 and profess an 
interest in intellectual matters which  
they do not really feel4 ,no good would 
come out of practising hypocrisy in the 
matter1 from however high a motive4     
,while schoolmasters rush off to golf   
whenever they get a chance1 and fill    
their holidays to the brim with games of
 various kinds1 it would be simply      
hypocritical to attempt to conceal the  
truth2 and the difficulty is increased  
by the fact that1 while parents and boys
 alike feel as they do about the        
essential importance of games1          
head-masters are more or less bound to  
select men for masterships who are      
proficient in them2 because whatever    
else has to be attended to at school1   
games have to be attended to2 and1      

moreover1 a man whom the boys respect as
 an athlete is likely to be more        
effective both as a disciplinarian and a
 teacher4 ,if a man is a first-rate slow
 bowler1 the boys will consider his     
views on ,thucydides and ,euclid more   
worthy of consideration than the views  
of a man who has only a high university 
degree4  ,the other day ,i was told of  
the case of a head-master of a small    
proprietary private school1 who was     
treated with open insolence and contempt
 by one of his assistants1 who neglected
 his work1 smoked in his class-room1 and
 even absented himself on occasions     
without leave4 ,it may be asked why the 
head-master did not dismiss his         
recalcitrant assistant4 ,it was because 
he had secured a man who was a ',varsity
 cricket-blue1 and whose presence on the
 staff gave the parents confidence1 and 
provided an excellent advertisement4    
,the assistant1 on the other hand1 knew 
that he could get a similar post for the
 asking1 and on the whole preferred a   

school where he might consult his own   
convenience4 ,this is1 of course1 an    
extreme case2 but would to ,god1 as ,dr4
 ,johnson said1 that it were an         
impossible one6 ,i do not wish to tilt  
against athletics1 nor do ,i at all     
undervalue the benefits of open air and 
exercise for growing boys4 ,but surely  
there is a lamentable want of proportion
 about the whole view6 ,the truth is    
that we ,english are in many respects   
barbarians still1 and as we happen at   
the present time to be wealthy          
barbarians1 we devote our time and our  
energies to the things for which we     
really care4 ,i do not at all want to   
see games diminished1 or played with    
less keenness4 ,i only desire to see    
them duly subordinated4 ,i do not think 
it ought to be considered slightly      
eccentric for a boy to care very much   
about his work1 or to take an interest  
in books4 ,i should like it to be       
recognized at schools that the one      
quality that was admirable was keenness1

 and that it was admirable in whatever  
department it was displayed2 but        
nowadays keenness about games is        
considered admirable and heroic1 while  
keenness about work or books is         
considered slightly grovelling and      
priggish4  ,the same spirit has affected
 what is called sport4 ,people no longer
 look upon it as an agreeable interlude1
 but as a business in itself2 they will 
not accept invitations to shoot1 unless 
the sport is likely to be good2 a       
moderate performer with the gun is      
treated as if it was a crime for him to 
want to shoot at all2 then the motoring 
craze has come in upon the top of the   
golfing craze2 and all the spare time of
 people of leisure tends to be filled up
 with bridge4 ,the difficulty in dealing
 with the situation is that the thing   
itself is not only not wrong1 but really
 beneficial2 it is better to be occupied
 than to be idle1 and it is hard to     
preach against a thing which is         
excellent in moderation and only        

mischievous in excess4  ,personally ,i  
am afraid that ,i only look upon games  
as a pis-aller4 ,i would always rather  
take a walk than play golf1 and read a  
book than play bridge4 ,bridge1 indeed1 
,i should regard as only one degree     
better than absolutely vacuous          
conversation1 which is certainly the    
most fatiguing thing in the world4 ,but 
the odd thing is that while it is       
regarded as rather vicious to do        
nothing1 it is regarded as positively   
virtuous to play a game4 ,personally ,i 
think competition always a more or less 
disagreeable thing4 ,i dislike it in    
real life1 and ,i do not see why it     
should be introduced into one's         
amusements4 ,if it amuses me to do a    
thing1 ,i do not very much care whether 
,i do it better than another person4 ,i 
have no desire to be always comparing my
 skill with the skill of others4  ,then1
 too1 ,i am afraid that ,i must confess 
to lamentably feeble pleasure in mere   
country sights and sounds4 ,i love to   

watch the curious and beautiful things  
that go on in every hedgerow and every  
field2 it is a ceaseless delight to see 
the tender uncrumpling leaves of the    
copse in spring1 and no a pleasure to   
see the woodland streaked and stained   
with the flaming glories of autumn4 ,it 
is a joy in high midsummer to see the   
clear dwindled stream run under the     
thick hazels1 among the lush            
water-plants2 it is no less a joy to see
 the same stream running full and turbid
 in winter1 when the banks are bare1 and
 the trees are leafless1 and the pasture
 is wrinkled with frost4 ,half the joy1 
for instance1 of shooting1 in which ,i  
frankly confess ,i take a childish      
delight1 is the quiet tramping over the 
clean-cut stubble1 the distant view of  
field and wood1 the long1 quiet wait at 
the covert-end1 where the spindle-wood  
hangs out her quaint rosy berries1 and  
the rabbits come scampering up the      
copse1 as the far-off tapping of the    
beaters draws near in the frosty air4   

,the delights of the country-side grow  
upon me every month and every year4 ,i  
love to stroll in the lanes in spring1  
with white clouds floating in the blue  
above1 and to see the glade carpeted    
with steel-blue hyacinths4 ,i love to   
walk on country roads or by woodland    
paths1 on a rain-drenched day of summer1
 when the sky is full of heavy inky     
clouds1 and the earth smells fresh and  
sweet2 ,i love to go briskly homeward on
 a winter evening1 when the sunset      
smoulders low in the west1 when the     
pheasants leap trumpeting to their      
roosts1 and the lights begin to peep in 
cottage windows4  ,such joys as these   
are within the reach of every one2 and  
to call the country dull because one has
 not the opportunity of hitting and     
pursuing a little white ball round and  
round among the same fields1 with       
elaborately contrived obstacles to test 
the skill and the temper1 seems to me to
 be grotesque1 if it were not also so   
distressing4  ,i cannot help feeling    

that games are things that are          
appropriate to the restless days of     
boyhood1 when one will take infinite    
trouble and toil over anything of the   
nature of a make-believe1 so long as it 
is understood not to be work2 but as one
 gets older and perhaps wiser1 a simpler
 and quieter range of interests ought to
 take their place4 ,i can humbly answer 
for it that it need imply no loss of    
zest2 my own power of enjoyment is far  
deeper and stronger than it was in early
 years2 the pleasures ,i have described1
 of sight and sound1 mean infinitely    
more to me than the definite occupations
 of boyhood ever did4 ,but the danger is
 that if we are brought up ourselves to 
depend upon games1 and if we bring up   
all our boys to depend on them1 we are  
not able to do without them as we grow  
older2 and thus we so often have the    
melancholy spectacle of the elderly man1
 who is hopelessly bored with existence1
 and who is the terror of the           
smoking-room and the dinner-table1      

because he is only capable of indulging 
in lengthy reminiscences of his own     
astonishing athletic performances1 and  
in lamentations over the degeneracy of  
the human race4  ,another remarkable    
fact about the conventionality that     
attends games is that certain games are 
dismissed as childish and contemptible  
while others are crowned with glory and 
worship4 ,one knows of eminent clergymen
 who play golf2 and that they should do 
so seems to constitute so high a title  
to the respect and regard with which    
normal persons view them1 that one      
sometimes wonders whether they do not   
take up the practice with the wisdom of 
the serpent that is recommended in the  
,gospels1 or because of the ,pauline    
doctrine of adaptability1 that by all   
means they may save some4  ,but as far  
as mere air and exercise goes1 the      
childish game of playing at horses is   
admirably calculated to increase health 
and vigour and needs no expensive       
resources4 ,yet what would be said and  

thought if a prelate and his suffragan  
ran nimbly out of a palace gate in a    
cathedral close1 with little bells      
tinkling1 whips cracking1 and reins of  
red ribbon drawn in to repress the      
curvetting of the gaitered steed8 ,there
 is nothing in reality more undignified 
about that than in hitting a little ball
 about over sandy bunkers4 ,if the      
,prime ,minister and the ,lord ,chief   
,justice trundled hoops round and round 
after breakfast in the gravelled space  
behind the ,horse ,guards1 who could    
allege that they would not be the better
 for the exercise8 ,yet they would be   
held for some mysterious reason to have 
forfeited respect4 ,to the mind of the  
philosopher all games are either silly  
or reasonable2 and nothing so reveals   
the stupid conventionality of the       
ordinary mind as the fact that men      
consider a series of handbooks on ,great
 ,bowlers to be a serious and important 
addition to literature1 while they would
 hold that a little manual on           

,blind-man's ,buff was a fit subject for
 derision4 ,st4 ,paul said that when he 
became a man he put away childish       
things4 ,he could hardly afford to say  
that now1 if he hoped to be regarded as 
a man of sense and weight4  ,i do not   
wish to be a mere ,jeremiah in the      
region of prophecy1 and to deplore1     
sarcastically and incisively1 what ,i   
cannot amend4 ,what ,i rather wish to do
 is to make a plea for greater          
simplicity in the matter1 and to try and
 destroy some of the terrible           
priggishness in the matter of athletics1
 which appears to me to prevail4 ,after 
all1 athletics are only one form of     
leisurely amusement2 and ,i maintain    
that it is of the essence of            
priggishness to import solemnity into a 
matter which does not need it1 and which
 would be better without it4 ,because   
the tyranny is a real one2 the man of   
many games is not content with simply   
enjoying them2 he has a sense of        
complacent superiority1 and a hardly    

disguised contempt for the people who do
 not play them4  ,i was staying in a    
house the other day where a             
distinguished philosopher had driven    
over to pay an afternoon call4 ,the call
 concluded1 he wished to make a start1  
so ,i went down to the stable with him  
to see about putting his pony in4 ,the  
stables were deserted4 ,i was forced to 
confess that ,i knew nothing about the  
harnessing of steeds1 however humble4   
,we discovered portions of what appeared
 to be the equipment of a pony1 and ,i  
held them for him1 while he gingerly    
tried them on1 applying them cautiously 
to various portions of the innocent     
animal's person4 ,eventually we had to  
give it up as a bad job1 and seek for   
professional assistance4 ,i described   
the scene for the benefit of a lively   
lady of my acquaintance1 who is a       
devotee of anything connected with      
horses1 and she laughed unmercifully at 
the description1 and expressed the      
contempt1 which she sincerely felt1 in  

no measured terms4 ,but1 after all1 it  
is no part of my business to harness    
horses2 it is a convenience that there  
should be persons who possess the       
requisite knowledge2 for me horses only 
represent a convenient form of          
locomotion4 ,i did not mind her being   
amused--indeed1 that was the object of  
my narrative--but her contempt was just 
as much misplaced as if ,i had despised 
her for not being able to tell the      
difference between sapphics and alcaics1
 which it was my business to know4  ,it 
is the complacency1 the                 
self-satisfaction1 that results from the
 worship of games1 which is one of its  
most serious features4 ,i wish with all 
my heart that ,i could suggest a remedy 
for it2 but the only thing that ,i can  
do is to pursue my own inclinations1    
with a fervent conviction that they are 
at least as innocent as the pursuit of  
athletic exercises2 and ,i can also1 as 
,i have said1 wave a little flag of     
revolt1 and rally to my standard the    

quieter and more simple-minded persons1 
who love their liberty1 and decline to  
part with it unless they can find a     
better reason than the merely           
comfortable desire to do what every one 
else is doing4     ,,xvi  ,,spiritualism
   ,i was sitting the other day in a    
vicarage garden with my friend the      
vicar4 ,it was a pretty1 well-kept      
place1 with old shrubberies and         
umbrageous trees2 to the right1 the     
tower of the church rose among its elms4
 ,we sate out of the wind1 looking over 
a rough pasture field1 apparently a     
common1 divided from the garden by a    
little ha-ha of brick4 ,the surface of  
the field was very irregular1 as though 
there had been excavations made in it   
for gravel at some time or other2 in    
certain parts of the field there        
appeared fragments of a stone wall1 just
 showing above the ground4  ,the vicar  
pointed to the field4 ,do you see that  
wall8 he said2 ,i will tell you a very  
curious story about that4 ,when ,i came 

here1 forty years ago1 ,i asked the old 
gardener what the field was1 as ,i never
 saw any one in it1 or any beasts       
grazing there2 and yet it was unfenced1 
and appeared to be common land--it was  
full of little thickets and thorn-bushes
 then4 ,he was not very willing to tell 
me1 ,i thought1 but by dint of questions
 ,i discovered that it was a common1 and
 that it was known locally by the       
curious name of ,heaven's ,walls4 ,he   
went on to say that it was considered   
unlucky to set foot in it2 and that1 as 
a matter of fact1 no villager would ever
 dream of going there2 he would not say 
why1 but at last it came out that it was
 supposed to be haunted by a spirit4 ,no
 one1 it seemed1 had ever seen anything 
there1 but it was an unlucky place4     
,well1 ,i thought no more of it at the  
time1 though ,i often went into the     
field4 ,it was a quiet and pretty place 
enough2 full of thickets1 as ,i have    
said1 where the birds built             
unmolested--there was generally a       

goldfinch's nest there4  ,it became     
necessary to lay a drain across it1 and 
a big trench was dug4 ,one day they came
 and told me that the workmen had found 
something--would ,i go and look at it8  
,i went out and found that they had     
unearthed a large ,roman cinerary urn1  
containing some calcined bones4 ,i told 
the lord of the manor1 who is a squire  
in the next parish1 and he and ,i after 
that kept a look-out over the workmen4  
,we found another urn1 and another1 both
 full of bones4 ,then we found a big    
glass vessel1 also containing bones4    
,the squire got interested in the thing1
 and eventually had the whole place dug 
out4 ,we found a large enclosure1 once  
surrounded by a stone wall1 of which you
 see the remains2 in two of the corners 
there was an enormous deposit of wood   
ashes1 in deep pits1 which looked as if 
great fires had burnt there2 and the    
walls in those two corners were all     
calcined and smoke-stained4 ,we found   
fifty or sixty urns1 all full of bones2 

and in another corner there was a deep  
shaft1 like a well1 dug in the chalk1   
with handholds down the sides1 also full
 of calcined bones4 ,we found a few     
coins1 and in one place a conglomeration
 of rust that looked as if it might have
 been a heap of tools or weapons4 ,we   
set the antiquaries to work1 and they   
pronounced it to be what is called a    
,roman ,ustrinum--that is to say1 a     
public crematorium1 where people who    
could not afford a separate funeral     
might bring a corpse to be burnt4 ,if   
they had no place to deposit the urn1 in
 which the bones were enclosed1 they    
were allowed1 it seems1 to bury the urn 
there1 until such time as they cared to 
remove it4 ,there was a big ,roman      
settlement here1 you know4 ,there was a 
fort on the hill there1 and the sites of
 several large ,roman villas have been  
discovered in the neighbourhood4 ,this  
place must have stood rather lonely1    
away from the town1 probably in the wood
 which then covered the whole of this   

county2 but it is curious1 is it not8   
said the vicar1 that the tradition      
should have been handed down through all
 these centuries of its being an        
ill-omened place1 long after any        
tradition of what the uses of the spot  
were6  ,it was curious indeed6 ,the     
vicar was presently called away1 and ,i 
sate musing over the strange old story4 
,i could fancy the place as it must have
 been1 standing with its high blank     
walls in a clearing of the forest1 with 
perhaps a great column of evil-smelling 
smoke drifting in oily waves over the   
corner of the wall1 telling of the sad  
rites that were going on within4 ,i     
could fancy heavy-eyed mourners dragging
 a bier up to the gates1 with a silent  
form lying upon it1 waiting in pale     
dismay until the great doors were flung 
open by the sombre rough attendants of  
the place2 until they could see the ugly
 enclosure1 with the wood piled high in 
the pit for the last sad service4 ,then 
would follow the burning and the        

drenching of the ashes1 the gathering of
 the bones--all that was left of one so 
dear1 father or mother1 boy or          
maiden--the enclosing of them in the    
urn1 and the final burial4 ,what agonies
 of simple grief the place must have    
witnessed6 ,then1 ,i suppose1 the place 
was deserted by the ,romans1 the walls  
crumbled down into ruin1 grass and      
bushes grew over the place4 ,then       
perhaps the forest was gradually felled 
and stubbed up1 as the area of          
cultivation widened2 but still the sad  
tradition of the spot left it desolate1 
until all recollection of its purpose   
was gone4 ,no doubt1 in ,saxon days1 it 
was thought to be haunted by the old    
wailing1 restless spirits of those who  
had suffered the last rites there2 so   
that still the place was condemned to a 
sinister solitude4  ,i went on to       
reflect over the strange and obstinate  
tradition that lingers still with such  
vitality among the human race1 that     
certain places are haunted by the       

spirits of the dead4 ,it is hard to     
believe that such tradition1 so         
widespread1 so universal1 should have no
 kind of justification in fact4 ,and yet
 there appears to be no justification   
for the idea1 unless the spiritual      
conditions of the world have altered1   
unless there were real phenomena1 which 
have for some cause ceased to manifest  
themselves1 which originated the        
tradition4 ,but there is certainly no   
scientific evidence of the fact4 ,the   
,psychical ,society1 which has faced    
some ridicule for its serious attempt to
 find out the truth about these matters1
 have announced that investigations of  
so-called haunted houses have produced  
no evidence whatever4 ,they seem to be a
 wholly unreliable type of stories1     
which always break down under careful   
inquiry4 ,i am inclined myself to       
believe that such stories arose in a    
perfectly natural way4 ,it is perfectly 
natural to simple people to believe that
 the spirit which animated a mortal body

 would1 on leaving it1 tend to linger   
about the scene of suffering and death4 
,indeed1 it is impossible not to feel   
that1 if the spirit has any conscious   
identity1 it would be sure to desire to 
remain in the neighbourhood of those    
whom it loved so well4 ,but the         
unsatisfactory element in these stories 
is that it generally appears to be the  
victim of some heinous deed1 and not the
 perpetrator1 who is condemned to make  
its sad presence known1 by wailing and  
by sorrowful gestures1 on the scene of  
its passion4 ,but once given the belief 
that a spirit might tend to remain for a
 time in the place where its earthly    
life was lived1 the terrors of man1 his 
swift imagination1 his power of         
self-delusion1 would do the rest4  ,the 
only class of stories1 say the          
investigators1 which appear to be proved
 beyond the possibility of reasonable   
doubt1 is the class of stories dealing  
with apparitions at the time of death2  
and this they explain by supposing a    

species of telepathy1 which is indeed an
 obscure force1 but obviously an        
existing one1 though its conditions and 
limitations are not clearly understood4 
,telepathy is the power of communication
 between mind and mind without the      
medium of speech1 and indeed in certain 
cases exercised at an immense distance4 
,the theory is that the thought of the  
dying person is so potently exercised on
 some particular living person1 as to   
cause the recipient to project a figure 
of the other upon the air4 ,that power  
of visualization is not a very uncommon 
one2 indeed1 we all possess it more or  
less2 we can all remember what we       
believe we have seen in our dreams1 and 
we remember the figures of our dreams as
 optical images1 though they have been  
purely mental conceptions1 translated   
into the terms of actual sight4 ,the    
impression of a dream-figure1 indeed1   
appears to us to be as much the         
impression of an image received upon the
 retina of the eye1 as our impressions  

of images actually so received4 ,the    
whole thing is strange1 of course1 but  
not stranger than wireless telegraphy4  
,it may be that the conditions of       
telepathy may some day be scientifically
 defined2 and in that case it will      
probably make a clear and coherent      
connection between a number of phenomena
 which we do not connect together1 just 
as the discovery of electricity         
connected together phenomena which all  
had observed1 like the adhering of      
substances to charged amber1 as well as 
the lightning-flash which breaks from   
the thunder-cloud4 ,no one in former    
days traced any connection between these
 two phenomena1 but we now know that    
they are only two manifestations of the 
same force4 ,in the same way we may find
 that phenomena of which we are all     
conscious1 but of which we do not know  
the reason1 may prove to be             
manifestations of some central          
telepathic force--such phenomena1 ,i    
mean1 as the bravery of armies in       

action1 or the excitement which may     
seize upon a large gathering of men4    
,we ought1 ,i think1 to admire and      
praise the patient work of the          
,psychical ,society1--though is common  
enough to hear quite sensible people    
deride it1--because it is an attempt to 
treat a subject scientifically4 ,what we
 have every right to deride is the      
dabbling in spiritualistic things by    
credulous and feeble-minded persons4    
,these practices open to our view one of
 the most lamentable and deplorable     
provinces of the human mind1 its power  
of convincing itself of anything which  
it desires to believe1 its debility1 its
 childishness4 ,if the professions of   
so-called mediums were true1 why cannot 
they exhibit their powers in some open  
and incontestable way1 not surrounding  
themselves with all the conditions of   
darkness and excitability1 in which the 
human power of self-delusion finds its  
richest field8  ,a friend of mine told  
me the other day what he evidently felt 

to be an extremely impressive story     
about a dignitary of the ,church4 ,this 
clergyman was overcome one day by an    
intense mental conviction that he was   
wanted at ,bristol4 ,he accordingly went
 there by train1 wandered about         
aimlessly1 and finally put up at a hotel
 for the night4 ,in the morning he found
 a friend in the coffee-room1 to whom he
 confided the cause of his presence in  
,bristol1 and announced his intention of
 going away by the next train4 ,the     
friend then told him that an ,australian
 was dying in the hotel1 and that his   
wife was very anxious to find a         
clergyman4 ,the dignitary went to see   
the lady1 with the intention of offering
 her his services1 when he discovered   
that he had met her when travelling in  
,australia1 and that her husband had    
been deeply impressed by a sermon which 
he had then delivered1 and had been     
entreating for some days that he might  
be summoned to administer the last      
consolations of religion4 ,the clergyman

 went in to see the patient1            
administered the last rites1 comforted  
and encouraged him1 and was with him    
when he died4 ,he afterwards told the   
widow the story of his mysterious       
summons to ,bristol1 and she replied    
that she had been praying night and day 
that he might come and that he had no   
doubt come in answer to her prayers4    
,but the unsatisfactory part of the     
story is that one is asked to condone   
the extremely unbusinesslike1 sloppy1   
and troublesome methods employed by this
 spiritual agency4 ,the lady knew the   
name and position of the clergyman      
perfectly well1 and might have written  
or wired to him4 ,he could thus have    
been spared his aimless and mysterious  
journey1 the expense of spending a night
 at the hotel2 and moreover it was only 
the fortuitous meeting with a third     
person1 not closely connected with the  
story1 which prevented the clergyman    
from leaving the place1 his mission     
unfulfilled4 ,one cannot help feeling   

that1 if a spiritual agency was at work1
 it was working either in a very clumsy 
way1 or with a relish for mystery which 
reminds one of the adventures of        
,sherlock ,holmes2 if one is expected to
 accept the story as a manifestation of 
supernatural power1 one can only        
conceive of it as the work of a very    
tricksy spirit1 like ,ariel in the      
,tempest2 it seems like a very elaborate
 and melodramatic attempt to bring about
 a result1 that could have been far more
 satisfactorily achieved by a little    
common sense4 ,if instead of inspiring  
the lady to earnest prayer--which       
appears too to have been very slow in   
its action--why could not the           
supernatural power at work have inspired
 her with the much simpler idea of      
looking at the ,clergy ,list8 ,and yet  
the story no doubt produces on the      
ordinary mind an impressive effect1 when
 as a matter of fact1 if it is fairly   
considered1 it can only be regarded1 if 
true1 as the work of an amiable and     

rather dilettante power1 with a strong  
relish for the elaborately marvellous4  
,the truth is that what the ordinary    
human being desires1 in matters of this 
kind1 is not scientific knowledge but   
picturesqueness4 ,as long as people     
frankly confess that it is the latter   
element of which they are in search1    
that1 like the fat boy in ,pickwick1    
they merely want to make their flesh    
creep1 no harm is done4 ,the harm is    
done by people who are really in search 
of sensation1 who yet profess to be     
approaching the question in a scientific
 spirit of inquiry4 ,i enjoy a good     
ghost story as much as any one2 and ,i  
am interested1 too1 in hearing the      
philosophical conclusions of            
earnest-minded people2 but to hear the  
question discussed1 as one so often     
hears it1 with a pretentious attempt to 
treat it scientifically1 by people who1 
like the ,white ,queen in ,through the  
,looking-glass1 find it pleasant to     
train themselves to believe a dozen     

impossible things before breakfast1     
afflicts me with a deep mental and moral
 nausea4  ,one1 at least1 of the patient
 investigators of this accumulated mass 
of human delusion1 took up the quest in 
the hope that he might receive          
scientific evidence of the continued    
existence of identity4 ,he was forced to
 confess that the evidence went all the 
other way1 and that all the tales which 
appeared to substantiate the fact1 were 
hopelessly discredited4 ,the only thing1
 as ,i have said1 that the              
investigations seem to have             
substantiated1 is evidence which none   
but a determinedly sceptical mind would 
disallow1 that there does exist1 in     
certain abnormal cases1 a possibility of
 direct communication between two or    
more living minds4  ,but1 as ,i pondered
 thus1 the day began to darken over the 
rough pasture with its ruined wall1 and 
,i felt creeping upon me that old       
inheritance of humanity1 that terror in 
the presence of the unseen1 which sets  

the mind at work1 distorting and        
exaggerating the impressions of eye and 
ear4 ,how easy1 in such a mood1 to grow 
tense and expectant--      ,till sight  
and hearing ache      ,for something    
that may keep      ,the awful inner     
sense      ,unroused1 lest it should    
mark      ,the life that haunts the     
emptiness      ,and horror of the dark4 
,face to face with the impenetrable     
mystery1 with the thought of those whom 
we have loved1 who have slipped without 
a word or a sign over the dark          
threshold1 what wonder if we beat with  
unavailing hands against the closed     
door8 ,it would be strange if we did    
not1 for we too must some day enter in2 
well1 the souls of all those who have   
died1 alike those whom we have loved1   
and the spirits of those old ,romans    
whose mortal bodies melted into smoke   
year after year in the little enclosure 
into which ,i look1 know whatever there 
is to know4 ,that is a stern and        
dreadful truth2 the secret is           

impenetrably sealed from us2 but1 though
 the heart ache to contemplate it1 it is
 there4     ,,xvii  ,,habits   ,walter  
,pater says1 in his most oracular mood1 
in that fine manifesto of a lofty       
,epicureanism which is known as the     
,conclusion to the ,renaissance essays1 
that to form habits is failure in life4 
,the difficulty in uttering oracles is  
that one is obliged for the sake of     
being forcible to reduce a statement to 
its simplest terms2 and when one does   
that1 there are generally a whole group 
of cases which appear to be covered by  
the statement1 which contradict it4 ,it 
is nearly impossible to make any general
 statement both simple enough and large 
enough4 ,in the case of ,pater's        
pronouncement1 he had fixed his mental  
gaze so firmly on a particular          
phenomenon1 that he forgot that his     
words might prove misleading when       
applied to the facts of life4 ,what he  
meant1 no doubt1 was that one of the    
commonest of mental dangers is to form  

intellectual and moral prejudices early 
in life1 and so to stereotype them that 
we are unable to look round them1 or to 
give anything that we instinctively     
dislike a fair trial4 ,most people in   
fact1 in matters of opinion1 tend to get
 infected with a species of ,toryism by 
the time that they reach middle age1    
until they get into the frame of mind   
which ,montaigne describes1 of thinking 
so highly of their own conjectures as to
 be prepared to burn other people for   
not regarding them as certainties4 ,this
 frame of mind is much to be reprobated1
 but it is unhappily common4 ,how often 
does one meet sensible1 shrewd1 and     
intelligent men1 who say frankly that   
they are not prepared to listen to any  
evidence which tells against their      
beliefs4 ,how rare it is to meet a man  
who in the course of an argument will   
say1 ,well1 ,i had never thought of that
 before2 it must be taken into account1 
and it modifies my view4 ,such an       
attitude is looked upon by active-minded

 and energetic men as having something  
weak and even sentimental about it4 ,how
 common it is to hear people say that a 
man ought to have the courage of his    
opinions2 how rare it is to find a man  
who will say that one ought to have the 
courage to change one's opinions4       
,indeed1 in public life it is generally 
considered a kind of treachery to       
change1 because people value what they  
call loyalty above truth4 ,pater no     
doubt meant that the duty and privilege 
of the philosopher is to keep his inner 
eye open to new impressions1 to be ready
 to see beauty in new forms1 not to love
 comfortable and settled ways1 but to   
bring the same fresh apprehension that  
youth brings1 to art and to life4  ,he  
is merely speaking of a mental process  
in these words2 what he is condemning is
 the dulling and encrusting of the mind 
with prejudices and habits1 the         
tendency1 as ,charles ,lamb wittily     
said1 whenever a new book comes out1 to 
read an old one1 to get into the        

fireside-and-slippers frame of mind1 to 
grumble at novelty1 to complain that the
 young men are violating all the sacred 
canons of faith and art4  ,this is not  
at all the same thing as knowing one's  
own limitations2 every one1 whether he  
be artist or writer1 critic or          
practitioner1 ought to take the measure 
of his forces1 and to determine in what 
regions he can be effective2 indeed it  
is often necessary for a man of artistic
 impulses to confine his energies to one
 specific department1 although he may be
 attracted by several4 ,pater was       
himself an instance of this4 ,he knew1  
for instance1 that his dramatic sense   
was weak1 and he wisely let drama alone2
 he found that certain vigorous writers 
exercised a contagious influence over   
his own style1 and therefore he gave up 
reading them4 ,but within his own region
 he endeavoured to be catholic and      
sympathetic2 he never tied up the       
contents of his mind into packets and   
labelled them1 a task which most men    

between thirty and forty find highly    
congenial4  ,but ,i desire here to go   
into the larger question of forming     
habits2 and as a general rule it may be 
said that ,pater's dictum is entirely   
untrue1 and that success in life depends
 more upon forming habits than upon     
anything else1 except good health4      
,indeed1 ,pater himself is an excellent 
instance in point4 ,he achieved his     
large output of beautiful literary work1
 the amazing amount of perfectly        
finished and exquisitely expressed      
writing that he gave to the world1 by an
 extreme and patient regularity of      
labour4 ,he did not1 as some writers do1
 have periods of energetic creation1    
interrupted by periods of fallow        
idleness4 ,perhaps his work might have  
been more spontaneous if he could1 like 
,milton's friend1 have been wise enough 
of such delights to judge1 and interpose
 them oft4 ,but the achievement of      
,pater was to realize and to carry out  
his own individual method1 and it is    

upon doing this that successful         
productivity depends4  ,i could name1 if
 ,i chose1 two or three friends of my   
own1 men of high and subtle             
intelligence1 admirable humour1         
undiminished zest1 who have failed1 and 
will fail1 to realize their             
possibilities1 simply by a lack of      
method4 ,who does not know the men whom 
,mr4 ,mallock so wittily describes1 of  
whom1 up to the age of forty1 their     
friends say that they could do anything 
if they only chose1 and after the age of
 forty that they could have done        
anything if they had chosen8 ,i have one
 particular friend in my eye at this    
moment1 the possessor of wealth and     
leisure1 who is a born writer if any man
 ever was4 ,he has no particular duties1
 except the duties of a small landowner 
and the father of a family2 he is a wide
 reader1 and a critic of delicate and   
sympathetic acuteness4 ,he is bent on   
writing2 and he has written a single    
book crammed from end to end with good  

and beautiful things1 the stuff of which
 would have sufficed1 in the hands of a 
facile writer1 for half-a-dozen         
excellent books4 ,he is1 moreover1      
sincerely anxious to write1 but he does 
nothing4 ,if you ask him--and ,i        
conceive it to be my duty at intervals  
to chide him for not producing          
more--what he does with his time1 he    
says with a melancholy smile3 ,oh1 ,i   
hardly know3 it goes6 ,i trace his      
failure to produce1 simply to the fact  
that he has never set apart any         
particular portion of the day for       
writing2 he allows himself to be        
interrupted2 he entertains many guests  
whom he has no particular wish to see2  
he sets around and looks ornery1 like   
the frog2 he talks delightfully2 an     
industrious ,boswell could1 by asking   
him questions and taking careful notes  
of his talk1 fill a charming volume in a
 month out of his shrewd and suggestive 
conversation2 of course it is possible  
to say that he practises the art of     

living1 to talk of gems of purest ray   
serene and flowers born to blush unseen 
and all the rest of it4 ,but his talk   
streams to waste among guests who do not
 as a rule appreciate it2 and if there  
is any duty or responsibility in the    
world at all1 it is a duty for men of   
great endowments1 admirable humour1 and 
poetical suggestiveness1 to sow the seed
 of the mind freely and lavishly4 ,we   
,english are of course the chosen race2 
but we should be none the worse for a   
little more intellectual apprehension1 a
 little more amiable charm4 ,if my      
friend had been a professional man1     
obliged to earn a living by his pen1 he 
would1 ,i do not doubt1 have given to   
the world a series of great books1 which
 would have done something to spread the
 influence of the kingdom of heaven4    
,of course there is a sense in which it 
is a mistake to let habits become too   
tyrannical2 one ought not to find       
oneself hopelessly distracted and       
irritated if one's daily programme is   

interfered with at any point2 one ought 
to be able to enjoy leisure1 to pay     
visits1 to converse volubly4 ,like ,dr4 
,johnson1 one ought to be ready for a   
frolic4 ,but1 on the other hand1 if a   
man takes himself seriously--and ,i am  
here not speaking of people with        
definite engagements1 but of people1    
like writers and artists1 who may choose
 their own times to do their work--he   
ought to have a regular though not an   
invariable programme4 ,if he is         
possessed of such superabundant energy  
as ,walter ,scott possessed1 he may rise
 at five1 and write ten immortal octavo 
pages before he appears at breakfast4   
,but as a rule the vitality of ordinary 
people is more limited1 and they are    
bound to husband it1 if they mean to do 
anything that is worth the name2 an     
artist then ought to have his sacred    
hours1 secure from interruption2 and    
then1 let him fill the rest of the day  
with any amusement that he finds to be  
congenial4  ,of course the thing is easy

 enough if one's work is really the     
thing in which one is most interested4  
,there is very little danger1 in the    
case of a man who likes and relishes the
 work he is doing more than he relishes 
any form of amusement2 but we many of us
 have the unhappy feeling that we enjoy 
our work very much1 if we can once sit  
down to it2 only we do not care about   
beginning it4 ,we read the paper1 we    
write a few letters1 we look out an     
address in ,who's ,who1 and we become   
absorbed in the biographies of our      
fellow-men2 very soon it is time for    
luncheon1 and then we think that we     
shall feel fresher if we take a little  
exercise2 after tea1 the weather is so  
beautiful that we think it would be a   
pity not to enjoy the long sunset       
lights2 we come in2 the piano stands    
invitingly open1 and we must strike a   
few chords2 then the bell rings for     
dressing1 and the day is gone1 because  
we mistrust the work that we do late at 
night1 and so we go to bed in good time4

 ,not so does a big book get written6   
,we ought rather to find out all about  
ourselves2 when we can work our best1   
how long we can work continuously with  
full vigour2 and then round these fixed 
points we should group our sociability1 
our leisure1 our amusement4 ,if we are  
altruistically inclined1 we probably say
 that it is a duty to see something of  
our fellow-creatures1 that we ought not 
to grow morose and solitary2 there is an
 abundance of excuses that can be made2 
but the artist and the writer ought to  
realize that their duty to the world is 
to perceive what is beautiful and to    
express it as resolutely1 as            
attractively as they can2 if a writer   
can write a good book1 he can talk in   
its pages to a numerous audience2 and he
 is right to save up his best thoughts  
for his readers1 rather than to let them
 flow away in diffuse conversation4 ,of 
course a writer of fiction is bound to  
make the observation of varieties of    
temperament a duty2 it is his material2 

if he becomes isolated and              
self-absorbed1 his work becomes narrow  
and mannerized2 and it is true1 too1    
that1 with most writers1 the collision  
of mind with mind is what produces the  
brightest sparks4  ,and then to step    
into a still wider field1 there is no   
sort of doubt that the formation of     
reasonable habits1 of method1 of        
punctuality1 is a duty1 not from an     
exalted point of view1 but because it   
makes enormously for the happiness and  
convenience of every one about us4 ,in  
the old-fashioned story-books a         
prodigious value1 perhaps an exaggerated
 value1 was set upon time2 one was told 
to redeem the time1 whatever that might 
mean4 ,the ideal mother of the family1  
in the little books which ,i used to    
read in my childhood1 was a lady who    
appeared punctually at breakfast1 and   
had a bunch of keys hanging at her      
girdle4 ,breakfast over1 she paid a     
series of visits1 looked into the       
larder1 weighed out stores1 and then    

settled down to some solid reading or   
embroidered a fire-screen2 the afternoon
 would be spent in visits of            
benevolence1 carrying portions of the   
midday dinner to her poorer neighbours2 
the evening would be given to working at
 the fire-screen again1 while some one  
read aloud4 ,somehow it is not an       
attractive picture1 though it need not  
have been so dull as it appears4 ,the   
point is whether the solid reading had a
 useful effect or not4 ,in the books ,i 
have in view1 it generally led the      
materfamilias into having an undue      
respect for correct information1 and a  
pharisaical contempt for people who     
indulged their fancy4 ,in ,harry and    
,lucy1 for instance1 ,lucy1 who is the  
only human figure in the book1 is       
perpetually being snubbed by the        
terrible hard-headed ,harry1 with his   
desperate interest in machinery1 by the 
repellent father who delights to explain
 the laws of gravity and the parabola   
described by the stone which ,harry     

throws4 ,what was undervalued in those  
old1 dry1 high-principled books was the 
charm of vivid apprehension1 of fanciful
 imagination1 of simple1 neighbourly    
kindliness4 ,the aim was too much to    
improve everybody and everything1 to    
impart and retain correct information4  
,nowadays the pendulum has swung a      
little too far the other way1 and       
children are too much encouraged1 if    
anything1 to be childish2 but there is a
 certain austere charm in the old simple
 high-minded household life for all     
that4  ,the point is that habit should  
be there1 like the hem of a             
handkerchief1 to keep the fabric        
together2 but that it should not be     
relentlessly and oppressively paraded2  
the triumph is to have habits and to    
conceal them1 just as in ,ruskin's      
celebrated dictum1 that the artist's aim
 should be to be fit for the best       
society1 and then that he should        
renounce it4 ,one ought to be reliable1 
to perform the work that one undertakes 

without ceaseless reminders1 to         
discharge duties easily and             
satisfactorily2 and then1 if to this one
 can add the grace of apparent          
leisureliness1 the power of never       
appearing to be interrupted1 the        
good-humoured readiness to amuse and to 
be amused1 one is high upon the ladder  
of perfection4 ,it is absolutely        
necessary1 if one is to play a          
satisfactory part in the world1 to be in
 earnest1 to be serious2 and it is no   
less necessary to abstain from          
ostentatiously parading that            
seriousness4 ,one has to take for       
granted that others are serious too2 and
 far more is effected by example than by
 precept1 in this1 as in most matters4  
,but if one cannot do both1 it is better
 to be serious and to show it1 than to  
make a show of despising seriousness and
 decrying it4 ,it is better to have     
habits and to let others know it1 than  
to lose one's soul by endeavouring to   
escape the reproach of priggishness1 a  

quality which in these easy-going days  
incurs an excessive degree of odium4    
,,xviii  ,,religion   ,there is a motto 
which ,i should like to see written over
 the door of every place of worship1    
both as an invitation and a warning3    
,,thou ,,shalt ,,make ,,me ,,to         
,,understand ,,wisdom ,,secretly4 ,it is
 an invitation to those who enter1 to   
come and participate in a great and holy
 mystery2 and it is a warning to those  
who believe that in the formalities of  
religion alone is the secret of religion
 to be found4 ,i will not here speak of 
worship1 of the value of the symbol1 the
 winged prayer1 the uttered word2 ,i    
wish rather to speak for a little of    
religion itself1 a thing1 as ,i believe1
 greatly misunderstood4 ,how much it is 
misunderstood may be seen from the fact 
that1 though the word itself1 religion1 
stands for one of the most beautiful and
 simple things in the world1 there yet  
hangs about it an aroma which is not    
wholly pleasing4 ,what difficult service

 that great and humble name has seen6   
,with what strange and evil meanings it 
has been charged6 ,how dinted and       
battered it is with hard usage6 how     
dimmed its radiance1 how stained its    
purity6 ,it is the best word1 perhaps   
the only word1 for the thing that ,i    
mean2 and yet something dusty and       
technical hangs about it1 which makes it
 wearisome instead of delightful1 dreary
 rather than joyful4 ,the same is the   
case with many of the words which stand 
for great things4 ,they have been       
weapons in the hands of dry1 bigoted1   
offensive persons1 until their          
brightness is clouded1 their keen edge  
hacked and broken4  ,by religion ,i mean
 the power1 whatever it be1 which makes 
a man choose what is hard rather than   
what is easy1 what is lofty and noble   
rather than what is mean and selfish2   
that puts courage into timorous hearts1 
and gladness into clouded spirits2 that 
consoles men in grief1 misfortune1 and  
disappointment2 that makes them joyfully

 accept a heavy burden2 that1 in a word1
 uplifts men out of the dominion of     
material things1 and sets their feet in 
a purer and simpler region4  ,yet this  
great thing1 which lies so near us that 
we can take it into our grasp by merely 
reaching out a hand2 which is as close  
to us as the air and the sunlight1 has  
been by the sad1 misguided efforts1 very
 often of the best and noblest-minded   
men1 who knew how precious a thing it   
was1 so guarded1 so wrapped up1 made so 
remote from1 so alien to1 life and      
thought1 that many people who live by   
its light1 and draw it in as simply as  
the air they breathe1 never even know   
that they have come within hail of it4  
,is he a good man8 said a simple        
,methodist once1 in reply to a question 
about a friend4 ,yes1 he is good1 but   
not religious-good4 ,by which he meant  
that he lived kindly1 purely1 and       
unselfishly as a ,christian should1 but 
did not attend any particular place of  
worship1 and therefore could not be held

 to have any religious motive for his   
actions1 but was guided by a mere       
worthless instinct1 a preference for    
unworldly living4  ,now1 if ever there  
was a ,divine attempt made in the world 
to shake religion free of its wrappings1
 it was the preaching of ,christ4 ,so   
far as we can gather from records of    
obscure and mysterious origin1          
transcriptions1 it would seem1 of       
something oral and traditional1 ,christ 
aimed at bringing religion within the   
reach of the humblest and simplest      
souls4 ,whatever doubt men may feel as  
to the literal accuracy of these records
 in matters of fact1 however much it may
 be held that the relation of incidents 
was coloured by the popular belief of   
the time in the possibility of          
miraculous manifestations1 yet the words
 and sayings of ,christ emerge from the 
narrative1 though in places it seems as 
though they had been imperfectly        
apprehended1 as containing and          
expressing thoughts quite outside the   

range of the minds that recorded them2  
and thus possess an authenticity1 which 
is confirmed and proved by the immature 
mental grasp of those who compiled the  
records1 in a way in which it would not 
have been proved1 if the compilers had  
been obviously men of mental acuteness  
and far-reaching philosophical grasp4   
,to express the religion of ,christ in  
precise words would be a mighty task2   
but it may be said that it was not      
merely a system1 nor primarily a creed2 
it was a message to individual hearts1  
bewildered by the complexity of the     
world and the intricacy of religious    
observances4 ,christ bade men believe   
that their ,creator was also a ,father2 
that the only way to escape from the    
overwhelming difficulties presented by  
the world was the way of simplicity1    
sincerity1 and love2 that a man should  
keep out of his life all that insults   
and hurts the soul1 and that he should  
hold the interests of others as dear as 
he holds his own4 ,it was a protest     

against all ambition1 and cruelty1 and  
luxury1 and self-conceit4 ,it showed    
that a man should accept his temperament
 and his place in life1 as gifts from   
the hands of his ,father2 and that he   
should then be peaceful1 pure1 humble1  
and loving4 ,christ brought into the    
world an entirely new standard2 ,he     
showed that many respected and          
reverenced persons were very far indeed 
from the ,father2 while many obscure1   
sinful1 miserable outcasts found the    
secret which the respectable and        
contemptuous missed4 ,never was there a 
message which cast so much hope abroad  
in rich handfuls to the world4 ,the     
astonishing part of the revelation was  
that it was so absolutely simple2       
neither wealth1 nor intellect1 nor      
position1 nor even moral perfection1    
were needed4 ,the simplest child1 the   
most abandoned sinner1 could take the   
great gift as easily as the most        
honoured statesman1 the wisest          
sage--indeed more easily2 for it was the

 very complexity of affairs1 of motives1
 of wealth1 that entangled the soul and 
prevented it from realizing its freedom4
  ,christ lived ,his human life on these
 principles2 and sank from danger to    
danger1 from disaster to disaster1 and  
having touched the whole gamut of human 
suffering1 and disappointment1 and      
shame1 died a death in which no element 
of disgust1 and terror1 and pain was    
wanting4  ,and from that moment the     
deterioration began4 ,at first the great
 secret ran silently through the world  
from soul to soul1 till the world was   
leavened4 ,but even so the process of   
capturing and transforming the faith in 
accordance with human weakness began4   
,the intellectual spirit laid hold on it
 first4 ,metaphysicians scrutinized the 
humble and sweet mystery1 overlaid it   
with definitions1 harmonized it with    
ancient systems1 dogmatized it1 made it 
hard1 and subtle1 and uninspiring4      
,vivid metaphors and illustrations were 
seized upon and converted into precise  

statements of principles4 ,the very     
misapprehensions of the original hearers
 were invested with the same sanctity   
that belonged to the ,master ,himself4  
,but even so the bright and beautiful   
spirit made its way1 like a stream of   
clear water1 refreshing thirsty places  
and making the desert bloom like the    
rose1 till at last the world itself1 in 
the middle of its luxuries and pomp1    
became aware that here was a mighty     
force abroad which must be reckoned     
with2 and then the world itself         
determined upon the capture of          
,christianity2 and how sadly it         
succeeded can be read in the pages of   
history2 until at last the pure         
creature1 like a barbarian captive1     
bright with youth and beauty1 was bound 
with golden chains1 and bidden1         
bewildered and amazed1 to grace the     
triumph and ride in the very chariot of 
its conqueror4  ,let me take one salient
 instance4 ,could there1 to any         
impartial observer1 be anything in the  

world more incredible than that the     
,pope1 surrounded by ritual and pomp1   
and hierarchies1 and policies1 should be
 held to be the representative on earth 
of the peasant-teacher of ,galilee8 ,and
 yet the melancholy process of          
development is plain enough4 ,as the    
world became ,christianized1 it could   
not be expected to give up its social   
order1 its ambitions1 its love of power 
and influence4 ,christianity uncurbed is
 an inconvenient1 a dangerous1 a        
subversive force2 it must be tamed and  
muzzled2 it must be robed and crowned2  
it must be given a high and honoured    
place among institutions4 ,and so it has
 fallen a victim to bribery and intrigue
 and worldly power4  ,i do not for a    
moment say that it does not even thus   
inspire thousands of hearts to simple1  
loving1 and heroic conduct4 ,the secret 
is far too vital to lose its power4 ,it 
is a vast force in the world1 and indeed
 survives its capture in virtue of its  
truth and beauty4 ,but instead of being 

the most free1 the most independent1 the
 most individualistic force in the      
world1 it has become the most           
authoritarian1 the most traditional1 the
 most rigid of systems4 ,as in the tale 
of ,gulliver1 it is a giant indeed1 and 
can yet perform gigantic services2 but  
it is bound and fettered by a puny race4
  ,further1 there are some who would    
divide religion sharply into two        
aspects1 the objective and the          
subjective4 ,those who emphasize the    
objective aspect1 would maintain that   
the theory that underlies all religion  
is the idea of sacrifice4 ,this view is 
held strongly by ,roman ,catholics and  
by a large section of ,anglicans as     
well4 ,they would hold that the duty of 
the priest is the offering of this      
sacrifice1 and that the essential truth 
of the ,christian revelation was the    
sacrifice of ,god ,himself upon ,god's  
own altar4 ,this sacrifice1 this        
atonement1 they would say1 can be and   
must be made1 over and over1 upon the   

altar of ,god4 ,they would hold that    
this offering had its objective value1  
even though it were offered without the 
mental concurrence of those for whom it 
was offered4 ,they would urge that the  
primal necessity for the faithful is    
that by an act of the will1--not        
necessarily an emotional act1 but an act
 of pure and definite volition1--they   
should associate themselves with the    
true and perfect sacrifice2 that souls  
that do this sincerely are caught up1 so
 to speak1 into the heavenly chariot of 
,god1 and move upward thus2 while the   
merely subjective and emotional religion
 is1 to continue the metaphor1 as if a  
man should gird up his loins to run in  
company with the heavenly impulse4 ,they
 would say that the objective act of    
worship may have a subjective emotional 
effect1 but that it has a true value    
quite independent of any subjective     
effect4 ,they would say that the idea of
 sacrifice is a primal instinct of human
 nature1 implanted in hearts by ,god    

,himself1 and borne witness to by the   
whole history of man4  ,those who1 like 
myself1 believe rather in the subjective
 side1 the emotional effect of religion1
 would hold that the idea of sacrifice  
is certainly a primal human instinct1   
but that the true interpretation has    
been put upon it by the teaching of     
,christ4 ,i should myself feel that the 
idea of sacrifice belonged wholly to the
 old dispensation4 ,that man1 when he   
began to form some mental picture of the
 mysterious nature of the world of which
 he found himself a part1 saw that there
 was1 in the background of life1 a vast 
and awful power1 whose laws were        
mysterious and not1 apparently1 wholly  
benevolent2 that this power sometimes   
sent happiness and prosperity1 sometimes
 sorrow and adversity2 and that though  
to a certain extent calamities were     
brought about by individual misconduct1 
yet that there were innumerable         
instances in the world where innocence  
and even conscientious conduct were just

 as heavily penalized as guilt and sin4 
,the apparently fortuitous distribution 
of happiness would alarm and bewilder   
him4 ,the natural instinct of man1 thus 
face to face with a ,deity which he     
could not hope to overcome or struggle  
with1 would be to conciliate and        
propitiate him by all the means in his  
power1 as he would offer gifts to a     
prince or chief4 ,he would hope thus to 
win his favour and not to incur his     
wrath4  ,but the teaching of the        
,saviour that ,god was indeed a ,father 
of men seems to me to have changed all  
this instantaneously4 ,man would learn  
that misfortune was sent him1 not       
wantonly nor cruelly1 but that it was an
 educative process4 ,if even so he saw  
cases1 such as a child tortured by      
agonizing pain1 where there seemed to be
 no personal educative motive that could
 account for it1 no sense of punishment 
which could be meant to improve the     
sufferer1 he would fall back on the     
thought that each man is not isolated or

 solitary1 but that there is some       
essential unity that binds humanity     
together1 and that suffering at one     
point must1 in some mysterious way that 
he cannot understand1 mean amelioration 
at another4 ,to feel this would require 
the exercise of faith1 because no human 
ingenuity could grasp the method by     
which such a system could be applied4   
,but there would be no choice between   
believing this1 or deciding that        
whatever the essential nature of the    
,mind of ,god was1 it was not based on  
human ideas of justice and benevolence4 
,the theory of religion would then be   
that the crude idea of propitiatory and 
conciliatory sacrifice would fall to the
 ground2 that to use the inspired words 
of the old ,roman poet--                
,aptissima quaeque dabunt ,di4          
,carior est illis homo quam sibi2  and  
that the only sacrifices required of man
 would be1 on the one hand1 the         
sacrifice of selfish desires1 evil      
tendencies1 sinful appetites2 and1 on   

the other hand1 the voluntary abnegation
 of comfortable and desirable things1 in
 the presence of a noble aim1 a great   
idea1 a generous purpose4  ,religion    
would then become a purely subjective   
thing2 an intense desire to put the     
human will in harmony with the ,divine  
will1 a hopeful1 generous1 and trustful 
attitude of soul1 a determination to    
receive suffering and pain as a gift    
from the ,father1 as bravely and        
sincerely as the gifts of happiness and 
joy1 with a fervent faith that ,god did 
indeed1 by implanting in men so ardent a
 longing for strength and joy1 and so   
deeply rooted a terror of pain and      
weakness1 imply that ,he intended joy1  
of a purified and elevated kind1 to be  
the ultimate inheritance of ,his        
creatures2 and the sacrifice of man     
would then be the willing resignation of
 everything which could in any degree   
thwart the ultimate purpose of ,god4    
,that ,i believe from the depths of my  
heart to be the meaning of the          

,christian revelation2 and ,i should    
look upon the thought of objective      
sacrifice as being an unworthy survival 
from a time when men had little true    
knowledge of the ,fatherly ,heart of    
,god4  ,and thus1 to my mind1 the only  
possible theory of worship is that it is
 a deliberate act1 an opening of the    
door that leads to the ,heavenly        
presence4 ,any influence is religious   
which fills the mind with gratitude and 
peace1 which makes a man humble and     
patient and wise1 which teaches him that
 the only happiness possible is to      
attune and harmonize his mind with the  
gracious purpose of ,god4  ,and so      
religion and worship grow to have a     
larger and wider significance2 for      
though the solemnities of religion are  
one of the doors through which the soul 
can approach ,god1 yet what is known as 
religious worship is only as it were a  
postern by the side of the great portals
 of beauty and nobility and truth4 ,one 
whose heart is filled with a yearning   

mystery at the sight of the starry      
heavens1 who can adore the splendour of 
noble actions1 courageous deeds1 patient
 affections1 who can see and love the   
beauty so abundantly shed abroad in the 
world1 who can be thrilled with ecstasy 
and joy by art and music1 can at all    
these moments draw near to ,god1 and    
open his soul to the influx of the      
,divine ,spirit4  ,religion can only be 
of avail so long as it takes account of 
all the avenues by which the soul can   
reach the central presence2 and the     
error into which professional           
ecclesiastics fall is the error of the  
scribes and ,pharisees1 who said that   
thus and thus only1 by these rites and  
sacrifices and ceremonies1 shall the    
soul have access to the ,father of all  
living4 ,it is as false a doctrine as   
would be the claim of scientific men or 
artists1 if they maintained that only   
through science or only through art     
should men draw near to ,god4 ,for all  
the intuitions by which men can perceive

 the ,father are sacred1 are religious4 
,and no one may perversely bind that    
which is free1 or make unclean that     
which is pure1 without suffering the    
doom of those who would delude humanity 
into worshipping an idol of man's       
devising1 rather than the ,spirit of    
,god ,himself4  ,now the question must  
be asked1 how are those who are         
,christians indeed1 who adore in the    
inmost shrine of their spirit the true  
,christ1 who believe that the ,star of  
the ,east still shines in unveiled      
splendour over the place where the young
 child is1 how are they to be true to   
their ,lord8 ,are they to protest       
against the tyranny of intellect1 of    
authority1 of worldliness1 over the     
,gospel8 ,i would say that they have no 
need thus to protest4 ,i would say that1
 if they are true to the spirit of      
,christ1 they have no concern with      
revolutionary ideals at all2 ,christ's  
own example teaches us to leave all that
 on one side1 to conform to worldly     

institutions1 to accept the framework of
 society4 ,the tyranny of which ,i have 
spoken is not to be directly attacked4  
,the true concern of the believer is to 
be his own attitude to life1 his        
relations with the circle1 small or     
great1 in which he finds himself4 ,he   
knows that if indeed the spirit of      
,christ could truly leaven the world1   
the pomps1 the glories1 the splendours  
which veil it1 would melt like          
unsubstantial wreaths of smoke4 ,he need
 not trouble himself about traditional  
ordinances1 elaborate ceremonials1      
subtle doctrines1 metaphysical          
definitions4 ,he must concern himself   
with far different things4 ,let him be  
sure that no sin is allowed to lurk     
unresisted in the depths of his spirit2 
let him be sure that he is patient1 and 
just1 and tender-hearted1 and sincere2  
let him try to remedy true affliction1  
not the affliction which falls upon men 
through their desire to conform to the  
elaborate usage of society1 but the     

affliction which seems to be bound up   
with ,god's own world4 ,let him be quiet
 and peaceable2 let him take freely the 
comfort of the holy influences which    
,churches1 for all their complex fabric 
of traditions and ceremony1 still hold  
out to the spirit2 let him drink largely
 from all sources of beauty1 both       
natural and human2 the ,churches        
themselves have gained1 by age1 and     
gentle associations1 and artistic       
perception1 a large treasure of things  
that are full of beauty--architecture   
and music and ceremony--that are only   
hurtful when held to be special and     
peculiar channels of holiness and       
sweetness1 when they are supposed to    
have a definite sanctification which is 
opposed to the sanctification of the    
beauty exterior to them4 ,let the       
,christian be grateful for the beauty   
they hold1 and use it freely and simply4
 ,only let him beware of thinking that  
what is the open inheritance of the     
world is in the possession of any one   

smaller circle4 ,let him not even seek  
to go outside of the persuasion1 as it  
is so strangely called1 in which he was 
born4 ,christ spoke little of sects1 and
 the fusion of sects1 because ,he       
contemplated no ,church1 in the sense in
 which it is now too often used1 but a  
unity of feeling which should overspread
 the earth4 ,the true ,christian will   
recognize his brethren not necessarily  
in the ,church or sect to which he      
belongs1 but in all who live humbly1    
purely1 and lovingly1 in dependence on  
the ,great ,father of all living4  ,for 
after all1 disguise it from ourselves as
 we will1 we are all girt about with    
dark mysteries1 into which we have to   
look whether we dare or not4 ,we fill   
our life as full as we can of occupation
 and amusements1 of warmth and comfort2 
yet sometimes1 as we sit in our peaceful
 room1 the gust pipes thin and shrill   
round the corners of the court1 the rain
 rustles in the tree2 we drop the book  
which we hold1 and wonder what manner of

 things we indeed are1 and what we shall
 be4 ,perhaps one of our companions is  
struck down1 and goes without a word or 
sign on his last journey2 or some heavy 
calamity1 some loss1 some bereavement   
hangs over our lives1 and we enter into 
the shadow2 or some inexplicable or     
hopeless suffering involves one whom we 
love1 from which the only deliverance is
 death2 and we realize that there is no 
explanation1 no consolation possible4   
,in such moments we tend to think that  
the world is a very terrible place1 and 
that we pay a heavy price for our share 
in it4 ,how unsubstantial then appear   
our hopes and dreams1 our little        
ambitions1 our paltry joys6 ,in such a  
mood we feel that the most definite     
creed illumines1 as it were1 but a tiny 
streak of the shadowy orb2 and we are   
visited1 too1 by the fear that the more 
definite the creed1 the more certain it 
is that it is only a desperate human    
attempt to state a mystery which cannot 
be stated1 in a world where all is dark4

  ,in such a despairing mood1 we can but
 resign ourselves to the awful ,will of 
,god1 who sets us here1 we know not why1
 and hurries us hence1 we know not      
whither4 ,yet the very sternness and    
inexorability of that dread purpose has 
something that sustains and invigorates4
 ,we look back upon our life1 and feel  
that it has all followed a plan and a   
design1 and that the worst evils we have
 had to bear have been our faithless    
terrors about what should be2 and then  
we feel the strength that ebbed from us 
drawing back to sustain us2 we recognize
 that our present sufferings have never 
been unbearable1 that there has always  
been some residue of hope2 we read of   
how brave men have borne intolerable    
calamities1 and have smiled in the midst
 of them1 at the reflection that they   
have never been so hard as was          
anticipated2 and then we are happy if we
 can determine that1 whatever comes1 we 
will try to do our best1 in our small   
sphere1 to live as truly and purely as  

we can1 to practise courage and         
sincerity1 to help our fellow-sufferers 
along1 to guard innocence1 to guide     
faltering feet1 to encourage all the    
sweet and wholesome joys of life1 to be 
loving1 tender-hearted1 generous1 to    
lift up our hearts2 not to be downcast  
and resentful because we do not         
understand everything at once1 but      
humbly and gratefully to read the scroll
 as it is unrolled4        99      99   
99      99      99  ,the night grows    
late4 ,i rise to close my outer door to 
shut myself out from the world2 ,i shall
 have no more visitors now4 ,the        
moonlight lies cold and clear on the    
little court2 the shadow of the cloister
 pillars falls black on the pavement4   
,outside1 the town lies hushed in sleep2
 ,i see the gables and chimneys of the  
clustered houses standing in a quiet    
dream over the old ivy-covered wall4    
,the college is absolutely still1 though
 one or two lights still burn in        
studious rooms1 and peep through        

curtained chinks4 ,what a beautiful     
place to live one's life in1 a place    
which greets one with delicate          
associations1 with venerable beauty1 at 
every turn6 ,the moonlight falls through
 the tall oriel of the ,hall1 and the   
armorial shields burn and glow with rich
 points of colour4 ,i pace to and fro1  
wondering1 musing4 ,all here seems so   
permanent1 so still1 so secure1 and yet 
we are spinning and whirling through    
space to some unknown goal4 ,what are   
the thoughts of the mighty unresting    
,heart1 to whose vastness and           
agelessness the whole mass of these     
flying and glowing suns are but as a    
handful of dust that a boy flings upon  
the air8 ,how has ,he set me here1 a    
tiny moving atom1 yet more sure of my   
own minute identity than ,i am of all   
the vast panorama of things which lie   
outside of me8 ,has ,he indeed a tender 
and a patient thought of me1 the frail  
creature whom ,he has moulded and made8 
,i do not doubt it2 ,i look up among the

 star-sown spaces1 and the old          
aspiration rises in my heart1 ,oh1 that 
,i knew where ,i might find ,him6 that  
,i might come even into ,his presence6  
,how would ,i go1 like a tired and      
sorrowful child to his father's knee1 to
 be comforted and encouraged1 in perfect
 trust and love1 to be raised in ,his   
arms1 to be held to ,his heart6 ,he     
would but look in my face1 and ,i should
 understand without a question1 without 
a word4  ,now in its mouldering turret  
the old clock wakes and stirs1 moves its
 jarring wires1 and the soft bell       
strikes midnight4 ,another of my few    
short days gone1 another step nearer to 
the unseen4 ,slowly but not sadly ,i    
return1 for ,i have been for a moment   
nearer ,god2 the very thought that rises
 in my mind1 and turns my heart to ,his1
 comes from ,him4 ,he would make all    
plain1 if ,he could2 ,he gives us what  
we need2 and when we at last awake we   
shall be satisfied4     ,,the ,,end