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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17246-8.txt b/17246-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c51042e --- /dev/null +++ b/17246-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4866 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Quest of the Simple Life, by William J. +Dawson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Quest of the Simple Life + + +Author: William J. Dawson + + + +Release Date: December 6, 2005 [eBook #17246] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE + +by + +W. J. DAWSON + + + + + + + +New York +E. P. Dutton and Co. +31 West Twenty-Third Street +1907 +Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty + + + + + + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim. + VIRG., Ecl. viii., l. 72. + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE + + +CHAPTER II + +GETTING THE BEST OUT OF LIFE + + +CHAPTER III + +GETTING A LIVING, AND LIVING + + +CHAPTER IV + +EARTH-HUNGER + + +CHAPTER V + +HEALTH AND ECONOMICS + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE + + +CHAPTER VII + +I FIND MY COTTAGE + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BUYING HAPPINESS + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOW WE LIVED + + +CHAPTER X + +NEIGHBOURSHIP + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WOUNDS OF A FRIEND + + +CHAPTER XII + +AM I RIGHT? + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CITY OF THE FUTURE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE + +For a considerable number of years I had been a resident in London, +which city I regarded alternately as my Paradise and my House of +Bondage. I am by no means one of those who are always ready to fling +opprobrious epithets at London, such as 'a pestilent wen,' a cluster of +'squalid villages,' and the like; on the contrary, I regard London as +the most fascinating of all cities, with the one exception of that city +of Eternal Memories beside the Tiber. But even Horace loved the +olive-groves of Tivoli more than the far-ranged splendours of the +Palatine; and I may be pardoned if an occasional vision of green fields +often left my eye insensitive to metropolitan attractions. + +This is a somewhat sonorous preface to the small matter of my story; +but I am anxious to elaborate it a little, lest it should be imagined +that I am merely a person of bucolic mind, to whom all cities or large +congregations of my fellow-men are in themselves abhorrent. On the +contrary I have an inherent love of all cities which are something more +than mere centres of manufacturing industry. The truly admirable city +secures interest, and even passionate love, not because it is a +congeries of thriving factories, but rather by the dignity of its +position, the splendour of its architecture, the variety and volume of +its life, the imperial, literary, and artistic interests of which it is +the centre, and the prolongation of its history through tumultuous +periods of time, which fade into the suggestive shadows of antiquity. +London answers perfectly to this definition of the truly admirable +city. It has been the stage of innumerable historic pageants; it +presents an unexampled variety of life; and there is majesty in the +mere sense of multitude with which it arrests and often overpowers the +mind. + +As I have already, with an innocent impertinence, justified myself by +Horace, so I will now justify myself by Wordsworth, whose famous sonnet +written on Westminster Bridge is sufficient proof that he could feel +the charm of cities as deeply as the charm of Nature. 'Earth hath not +anything to show more fair,' wrote Wordsworth, and of a truth London +has moods and moments of almost unearthly beauty, perhaps unparalleled +by any vision that inebriates the eye in the most gorgeous dawn that +flushes Alpine snows, or the most solemn sunset that builds a gate of +gold across the profound depth of Borrowdale or Wastwater. He who has +seen the tower of St. Clement Danes swim up, like an insubstantial +fabric, through violet mist above the roaring Strand; or the golden +Cross upon St. Paul's with a flag of tinted cloud flying from it; or +the solemn reaches of the Thames bathed in smoky purple at the slow +close of a summer's day, will know what I mean, and will (it is +possible) have some memory of his own which will endorse the justness +of my praise. + +From this exalted prelude I will at once descend to more prosaic +matter, leaving my reader, in his charity, to devise for me an apology +which I have neither the wit nor the desire to invent for myself. With +the best will in the world to speak in praise of cities it must be +owned that the epic and lyric moments of London are infrequent. As a +casual resident in London, a student and spectator, free to leave it +when I willed, I could have been heartily content; but I, in common +with some insignificant millions of my fellow-creatures, was bound to +live in London as a means of living at all. He is no true citizen who +merely comes up to town 'for the season,' alternating the pleasures of +town with those of the country; he alone is the true citizen who _must_ +live amid the roar of the street all the year round, and for years +together. If I could choose for myself I would even now choose the +life of pleasant alternation between town and country, because I am +persuaded that the true piquancy and zest of all pleasures lies in +contrast. But fate orders these things for us, and takes no account of +our desires, unless it be to treat them with habitual irony. At +five-and-twenty the plain fact met me--that I must needs live in +London, because my bread could be earned nowhere else. No choice was +permitted me; I must go where crowds were, because from the favour or +necessities of such crowds I must gather the scanty tithes which put +food upon my table and clothes upon my back. When eminent writers, +seated at ample desks, from which they command fair views of open +country, denounce with prophetic fervour the perils which attend the +growth of cities, they somewhat overlook the fact that the growth of +cities is a sequence, alike ineluctable and pitiless, of the modern +struggle for existence. One cannot be a lawyer, or a banker, a +physician or a journalist, without neighbours. He can scarce be a +literary man in perfect sylvan solitude, unless his work is of such +quality--perhaps I should have said such popularity--that it wins for +him immediate payment, or unless his private fortune be such that he +can pursue his aims as a writer with entire indifference to the +half-yearly statements of his publisher. In respect of the various +employments of trade and commerce, the case is still plainer. Men must +needs go where the best wages may be earned; and under modern +conditions of life it is as natural that population should flow toward +cities, as that rivers should seek the sea. These matters will be more +particularly discussed later on; it is enough for me to explain at +present that I was one of those persons for whom life in a city was an +absolute necessity. + +It is not until one is tied to a locality that its defects become +apparent. A street that interests the mind by some charm of populous +vivacity when it is traversed at random and without object, becomes +inexpressibly wearisome when it is the thoroughfare of daily duty. My +daily duty took me through a long stretch of Oxford Street, which is a +street not altogether destitute of some real claim to gaiety and +dignity. At first I was ready to concede this claim, and even to +endorse it with enthusiasm; but from the day when I realised that +Oxford Street conducted me, by a force of inevitable gravitation, to a +desk in an office, I began to loathe it. The eye became conscious of a +hundred defects and incongruities; the tall houses rose like prison +walls; the resounding tumult of the streets seemed like the clamour of +tormented spirits. For the first time I began to understand why +imaginative writers had often likened London to Inferno. + +I well remember by what a series of curious expedients I endeavoured to +evade these sensations. The most obvious was altogether to avoid this +glittering and detested thoroughfare by making long detours through the +meaner streets which lay behind it; but this was merely to exchange one +kind of aesthetic misery which had some alleviations for another kind +which had none. Sometimes I endeavoured to contrive a doubtful +exhilaration from the contrast which these meaner streets afforded; +saying to myself, as I pushed my way through the costers' stalls of +Great James Street, 'Now you are exchanging squalor for magnificence. +Be prepared for a surprise.' But the ruse failed utterly, and my mind +laughed aloud at the pitiful imposture. Another device was to create +points of interest, like a series of shrines along a tedious road, +which should present some aspect of allurement. There was a book-shop +here or an art-shop there; yesterday a biography of Napoleon was +exhibited in the one, or a print of Murillo's 'Flight into Egypt,' in +the other; and it is become a matter of speculation whether they were +there to-day. Just as a solitary sailor will beguile the tedium of +empty days at sea by a kind of cribbage, in which the left hand plays +against the right, so I laid odds for and against myself on such +trifles as these, and even went so far as to keep an account of my +successes and my failures. Thus, for a whole month I was interested in +a person quite unknown to me, who wore an obsolete white beaver hat, +appeared punctually at the corner of Bond Street at half-past five in +the afternoon, and spent half an hour in turning over the odd volumes +displayed on the street board of a secondhand-book shop not far from +Oxford Circus. His appearances were so planetary in their regularity +that one might have reckoned time by them. Who he was, or what his +objects in life may have been, I never learned. I never saw him walk +but in the one direction; I never saw him buy one of the many books +which he examined: perhaps he also was afflicted with the tedium of +London, and took this singular way of getting through a portion of his +sterile day with a simulated interest. At all events he afforded me an +interest, and when he vanished at the end of the month, Oxford Street +once more became intolerable to me. + +These particulars appear so foolish and so trivial that most persons +will find them ridiculous, and even the most sympathetic will perhaps +wonder why they are recorded. They were, however, far from trivial to +me. The marooned seaman saves his sanity by cutting notches in a +stick, the solitary prisoner by friendship with a mouse; and when life +is reduced to the last exiguity of narrowness, the interests of life +will be narrow too. No writer, whose work is familiar to me, has ever +yet described with unsparing fidelity the kind of misery which lies in +having to do precisely the same things at the same hour, through long +and consecutive periods of time. The hours then become a dead weight +which oppresses the spirit to the point of torture. Life itself +resembles those dreadful dreams of childhood, in which we see the +ceiling and the walls of the room contract round one's helpless and +immobile form. Blessed is he who has variety in his life: thrice +blessed is he who has both freedom and variety: but the subordinate +toiler in the vast mechanism of a great city has neither. He will sit +at the same desk, gaze upon the same unending rows of figures, do, in +fact, the same things year in and year out till his youth has withered +into age. He himself becomes little better than a mechanism. There is +no form of outdoor employment of which this can be said. The life of +the agricultural labourer, so often pitied for its monotony, is variety +itself compared with the life of the commercial clerk. The labourer's +tasks are at least changed by the seasons; but time brings no such +diversion to the clerk. It is this horrible monotony which so often +makes the clerk a foul-minded creature; driven in upon himself, he has +to create some kind of drama for his instincts and imaginations, and +often from the sorriest material. When I played single-handed cribbage +with the few trivial interests which I knew, I at least took an +innocent diversion; and I may claim that my absurd fancies injured no +one, and were certainly of some service to myself. + +The outsider usually imagines that great cities afford unusual +opportunities of social intercourse, and when I first became a citizen +I found this prospect enchanting. I scanned the horizon eagerly for +these troops of friends which a city was supposed to furnish: quested +here and there for a responsive pair of eyes; made timid approaches +which were repulsed; and, finally, after much experiment, had to admit +that the whole idea was a delusion. No doubt it is true enough that, +with a settled and considerable income, and the power of entertaining, +friends are to be found in plenty. But Grosvenor Square and Kentish +Town do not so much as share a common atmosphere. In the one it is a +pleasant tradition that the house door should be set wide to all comers +who can contribute anything to the common social stock; in the other, +the house door is jealously locked and barred. The London clerk does +not care to reveal the shifts and the bareness of his domestic life. +He will reside in one locality for years without so much as seeking to +know his next-door neighbour. He will live on cordial terms with his +comrade in the office, but will never dream of inviting him to his +home. His instinct of privacy is so abnormal that it becomes mere +churlishness. His wife, if he have one, usually fosters this spirit +for reasons of her own. Her interests end with the clothing and +education of her children. She does not wish for friends, does not +cultivate the grace of hospitality, and is indifferent to social +intercourse. In short, the barbaric legend that an Englishman's house +is his castle, is nowhere so much respected as in London. + +The exhausting character of life in London, and the mere vastness of +its geographical area, do something to produce this result. Men who +leave home early in the morning, sit for many hours in an office, and +reach home late at night, soon lose both the instinct and desire for +social intercourse. They prefer the comfortable torpor of the +fireside. If some imperative need of new interests torments them, they +seek relaxation in the music-hall or some other place of popular +resort. The art of conversation is almost extinct in a certain type of +Londoner. He knows nothing to converse about outside his business +interests, his family concerns, and perhaps the latest sensation of the +daily newspaper. Those lighter flights of fancy, those delicate +innuendoes and allusions of implied experience or culture--all the +give-and-take of happily contending minds--all, indeed, that makes true +conversation--is a science utterly unknown to him. A certain +superficial nimbleness of mind he does sometimes possess, but for all +that he is a dull creature, made dull by the limitations of his life. + +If it should happen, as it often may, that such a man has some genuine +instinct for friendship, and has a friend to whom he can confide his +real thoughts, the chances are that his friend will be separated from +him by the mere vastness of London. To the rural mind the metropolis +appears an entity; in reality it is an empire. A journey from the +extreme north to the extreme south, from Muswell Hill to Dulwich, is +less easily accomplished, and often less speedily, than a journey from +London to Birmingham. There is none of that pleasant 'dropping-in' for +an evening which is possible in country towns of not immoderate radius. +Time-tables have to be consulted, engagement-books scanned, serious +preparations made, with the poor result, perhaps, of two hours' hurried +intercourse. The heartiest friendship does not long survive this +malignity of circumstance. It is something to know that you have a +friend, obscurely hidden in some corner of the metropolis; but you see +him so rarely, that when you meet, it is like forming a new friendship +rather than pursuing an old one. It is little wonder that, under such +conditions, visits grow more and more infrequent, and at last cease. A +message at Christmas, an intimation of a birth, a funeral card, are the +solitary relics and mementoes of many a city friendship not extinct, +but utterly suspended. + +I dwell on these obvious characteristics of London life, because in +course of time they assumed for me almost terrifying dimensions. After +ten years of arduous toil I found myself at thirty-five lonely, +friendless, and imprisoned in a groove of iron, whose long curves swept +on inevitably to that grim terminus where all men arrive at last. +Sometimes I chided myself for my discontent; and certainly there were +many who might have envied me. I occupied a fairly comfortable house +in a decayed terrace where each house was exactly like its neighbour, +and had I told any one that the mere aspect of this grey terrace +oppressed me by its featureless monotony, I should have been laughed at +for my pains. I believe that I was trusted by my employers, and if a +mere automatic diligence can be accounted a virtue, I merited their +trust. In course of time my income would have been increased, though +never to that degree which means competence or freedom. To this common +object of ambition I had indeed long ago become indifferent. What can +a few extra pounds a year bring to a man who finds himself bound to the +same tasks, and those tasks distasteful? I was married and had two +children; and the most distressing thought of all was that I saw my +children predestined to the same fate. I saw them growing up in +complete destitution of those country sights and sounds which had made +my own youth delightful; acquiring the superficial sharpness of the +city child and his slang; suffering at times by the anaemia and +listlessness bred of vitiated air; high-strung and sensitive as those +must needs be whose nerves are in perpetual agitation; and when, in +chance excursions to the country, I compared my children with the +children of cottagers and ploughmen, I felt that I had wronged them, I +saw my children foredoomed, by an inexorable destiny, to a life at all +points similar with my own. In course of time they also would become +recruits in the narrow-chested, black-coated army of those who sit at +desks. They would become slaves without having known the value of +freedom; slaves not by capture but by heritage. More and more the +thought began to gather shape, Was I getting the most, or the best, out +of life? Was there no other kind of life in which toil was redeemed +from baseness by its own inherent interest, no life which offered more +of tranquil satisfaction and available, if humble, happiness? Day by +day this thought sounded through my mind, and each fresh discouragement +and disability of the life I led gave it sharper emphasis. At last the +time came when I found an answer to it, and these chapters tell the +story of my seeking and my finding. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GETTING THE BEST OUT OF LIFE + +The reader will perhaps say that the kind of miseries recounted in the +previous chapter are more imaginary than real. Many thousands of +people subsist in London upon narrow means, and do not find the life +intolerable. They have their interests and pleasures, meagre enough +when judged by a superior standard, but sufficient to maintain in them +some of the vivacity of existence. No doubt this is true. I remember +being struck some years ago by the remark of a person of distinction, +equally acquainted with social life in its highest and its lowest +forms. Mr. H., as I will call this person, said that the dismal +pictures drawn by social novelists of life among the very poor were +true in fact, but wrong in perspective. Novelists described what their +own feelings would be if they were condemned to live the life of the +disinherited city drudge, rather than the actual feelings of the drudge +himself. A man of education, accustomed to easy means, would suffer +tortures unspeakable if he were made to live in a single room of a +populous and squalid tenement, and had to subsist upon a wage at once +niggardly and precarious. He would be tormented with that memory of +happier things, which we are told is a 'sorrow's crown of sorrow.' But +the man who has known no other condition of life is unconscious of its +misery. He has no standard of comparison. An environment which would +drive a man of refinement to thoughts of suicide, does not produce so +much as dissatisfaction in him. Hence there is far more happiness +among the poor than we imagine. They see nothing deplorable in a lot +to which they have become accustomed; they are as our first parents +before their eyes were opened to a knowledge of good or evil; or, to +take a less mythical illustration, they are as the contented savage, to +whom the refinements of European civilisation are objects of ridicule +rather than envy. + +I quote this opinion for what it is worth; but it has little relevance +to my own case. I am the only competent judge of my own feelings. I +know perfectly well that these feelings were not shared by men who +shared the conditions of my own life. There was a clerk in the same +office with me who may be taken as an example of his class. Poor +Arrowsmith--how well I recall him!--was a little pallid man, always +neatly if shabbily dressed, punctual as a clock, and of irreproachable +diligence. He was verging on forty, had a wife and family whom I never +saw, and an aged mother whom he was proud to support. He was of quite +imperturbable cheerfulness, delighted in small jokes, and would chatter +like a daw when occasion served him. He had never read a book in his +life; his mind subsisted wholly upon the halfpenny newspapers. He had +no pleasures, unless one can count as such certain Bank Holiday +excursions to Hampstead Heath, which were performed under a heavy sense +of duty to his family. He had lived in London all his days, but knew +much less of it than the country excursionist. He had never visited +St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey; had never travelled so far as Kew or +Greenwich; had never been inside a picture gallery; and had never +attended a concert in his life. The pendulum of his innocuous +existence swung between the office and his home with a uniform +monotony. Yet not only was he contented with his life, but I believe +that he regarded it as entirely successful. He had counted it a great +piece of luck when he had entered the office as a youth of sixteen, and +the glow of his good fortune still lingered in his mind at forty. He +regarded his employers with a species of admiring awe not always +accorded to kings. The most violent social democrat could have made +nothing of Arrowsmith; there was not the least crevice in his heart in +which the seed of discontent could have found a lodgment. As for +making any question of whether he was getting the best or most out of +life, Arrowsmith was as incapable as a kitten. + +The virtues of Arrowsmith, which were in their way quietly heroic, +impressed me a good deal; but his abject contentment with the +limitations of his lot appalled me. I felt a dread grow in me lest I +should become subdued to the element in which I worked as he was. I +asked myself whether a life so destitute of real interests and +pleasures was life at all? I made fugitive attempts to allure the +little man into some realms of wider interest, but with the most +discouraging results. I once insisted on taking him with me for a day +in Epping Forest. He came reluctantly, for he did not like leaving his +wife at home, and it seemed that no persuasion could induce her to +undertake so adventurous a jaunt. He was no walker, and half a dozen +miles along the Forest roads tired him out. By the afternoon even his +cheerfulness had vanished; he gazed with blank and gloomy eyes upon the +wide spaces of the woodland scenery. He did not regain his spirits +till we drew near Stratford on the homeward journey. At the first +sight of gas-lit streets he brightened up, and I am persuaded that the +rancid odours of the factories at Bow were sweeter in his nostrils than +all the Forest fragrances. I never asked him again to share a pleasure +for which I now perceived he had no faculty; but I often asked myself +how long it would take for a city life to extirpate in me the taste by +which Nature is appreciated, as it had in Arrowsmith. + +I have taken Arrowsmith as an example of the narrowness of interest +created by a city life, and it would be easy to offer an apology for +him, which I, for one, would most heartily endorse. The poor fellow +was very much the creature of his circumstances. But this was scarcely +the case with another man I knew, whose circumstances, had he known how +to use them, might have afforded him the opportunity of many cultivated +tastes. He was the son of a small farmer, born in the same village as +myself. By some curious accident he was flung into the vortex of +London life at seventeen, and became a clerk in a reputable firm of +stockbrokers in Throgmorton Street. He rose rapidly, speculated +largely and successfully for himself, became a partner, and was rich at +thirty. I used to meet him occasionally, for he never forgot that we +had sat upon the same bench at school. I can see him still; +well-fleshed and immaculately dressed; his waistcoat pockets full of +gold; a prop of music-halls, a patron of expensive restaurants; +flashing from one to the other in the evening hours in swift hansoms; a +man envied and admired by a host of clerks in Throgmorton Street to +whom he appeared a kind of Napoleon of finance. I will confess that I +myself was a little dazzled by his careless opulence. When he took me +to dine with him he thought nothing of giving the head waiter a +sovereign as a guarantee of careful service, or of sending another +sovereign to the master of the orchestra with a request for some +particular piece of music which he fancied. He once confided to me +that he had brought off certain operations which had made him the +possessor of eighty thousand pounds. To me the sum seemed immense, but +he regarded it as a bagatelle. When I suggested certain uses for it, +such as retirement to the country, the building of a country house, the +collection of pictures or of a library, he laughed at me. He informed +me that he never spent more than a single day in the country every +year; it was spent in visiting his father at the old farm. He loathed +the quiet of the country, and counted his one day in the year an +infliction and a sacrifice. Books and pictures he had cared for once, +but as he now put it, he had 'no use for them.' It seemed that all his +eighty thousand pounds was destined to be flung upon the great roulette +table of stock and share speculations. It was not that he was +avaricious; few men cared less for money in itself; but he could not +live without the excitement of speculation. 'I prefer the air of +Throgmorton Street to any air in the world,' he observed. 'I am +unhappy if I leave it for a day.' So far as knowledge of or interest +in London went, he was not a whit better than poor shabby Arrowsmith. +His London stretched no further than from the Bank to Oxford Circus, +and the landmarks by which he knew it were restaurants and music-halls. + +The man seemed so satisfied with everything about his life that it was +a kind of joy to meet him. The sourness of my own discontent was +dissolved in the alembic of his joviality. Yet it was certain that he +lived a life of the most torturing anxiety. There were recurring +periods when his fortune hung in the balance, and his financial +salvation was achieved as by fire. When he sat silent for a moment, +strange things were written on his face. Haggard lines ran across the +brow; the hollows underneath the eyes grew deep; and one could see that +black care sat upon his shoulders. There was a listening posture of +the head, as of one apprehensive of the footfall of disaster, and +though he was barely forty, his hair was white. What happened to him +finally I do not know. I missed him for a year or two; inquired at the +hotel where he had lived and found him gone; and I thought I read in +the sarcastic smile of the hotel-manager more knowledge than he was +willing to communicate. I imagine that he went down in some financial +storm, like ships at sea that are heard of no more; the Napoleon of +finance had somewhere found his Waterloo. The reflection is +inevitable; what had he got out of life after all? He had won neither +peace nor honour; he had known nothing of the finer joys or tastes; he +had enjoyed no satisfying pleasures; such triumph as he had known had +been the brief triumph of the gambler. Upon the whole I thought the +narrow tedious life of Arrowsmith the worthier. + +Reflections of this nature are usually attributed to mere envy or +contempt of wealth, which is a temper not less sordid than a love of +wealth. For my part I can but profess that I feel for wealth neither +envy nor contempt. On the contrary, I love to imagine myself wealthy, +and I flatter myself--as most poor men do--that I am a person +peculiarly fitted by nature to afford a conspicuous example of how +wealth should be employed. I like to dramatise my fancies, and the +more impossible these fancies are, the more convincing is the drama +that can be educed from them. Thus I have several times built palaces +which have rivalled the splendours of the Medici; I have administered +great estates to the entire satisfaction of my tenants; I have +established myself as the Maecenas of art and literature; and were I +ever called to play these parts in reality, I am convinced that my +competence would secure applause. The point at which I stick, however, +is this: rich men rarely do these things. It is the pursuit of wealth, +rather than wealth itself, that is their pleasure. Let us suppose the +case of a man who has toiled with undivided mind for thirty years to +acquire a fortune; will it not be usually found that in the struggle to +be rich he has lost those very qualities which make riches worth +possessing? He buys his estate or builds his house; but there is +little pleasure in the business. He is the mere slave of land-agents, +the puppet of architects and upholsterers. He has no original taste to +guide or interest him: what he once had has perished long ago in the +dreary toil of money-grubbing. The men who build or decorate his house +have a certain pleasure in their work; all that he does is to pay them +for being happy. If he should adopt the rich man's hobby of collecting +pictures or a library, he rarely enjoys a higher pleasure than the mere +lust of possession. He buys what he is told to buy, without +discrimination; he has no knowledge of what constitutes rarity or +value; and most certainly he knows nothing of those excitements of the +quest which make the collection of articles of vertu a pursuit so +fascinating to the man of trained judgment but moderate means. And, as +if to complete the irony of the situation, he is after all but the +infrequent tenant of the treasure-house which he has built; the blinds +are drawn half the year; the splendid rooms are seen by no wiser eyes +than those of his butler and his housekeeper; and his secretary, if he +be a man of taste and education, draws the real dividend of pleasure +from all these rare and costly things which Dives has accumulated. +Dives is in most cases little more than the man who pays the bill for +things which other folk enjoy. + +Let Dives be accounted then a public benefactor, we may say; perhaps +so, but the question still remains, does Dives get the most and best +out of life? The obvious answer is that the best things of life are +not to be bought with money; it would be nearer the truth to quote the +prophetic paradox, they are bought 'without money and without price.' +I was present once at a dinner given by a millionaire newspaper +proprietor to a crowd of journalists, on the occasion of the founding +of a new magazine. The millionaire ate little, spoke little, and sat +throughout the feast with an anxious cloud upon his brow. I recognised +the same furtive look of apprehension in his eyes that I had seen in +the eyes of my stock-broking friend long before. As I glanced round +the room I found myself able to pick out all the men of wealth by that +same look. It would seem that the anxieties of getting money only +beget the more torturing anxiety of how to keep it. That, I am +persuaded, was the dominant thought of my millionaire host throughout +the meal; he knew the fear and fever of the gambler risking an enormous +stake, the agitation of the soldier on the eve of a battle, in which +victory is highly problematical. But that crowd of hungry journalists, +how they did eat! What laughter sat on those boyish faces, what zest +of life, what capacity of pleasure! There was not one of them whose +daily bread was not precarious; not one perhaps who had a decent +balance at the bank; yet they were so gay, so resolutely cheerful, so +frankly interested in life and in themselves, that I could fancy those +gloomy eyes at the head of the table watched them with a sort of envy, +I think there must be something fatal to gaiety in the mere +responsibilities of wealth; I am sure that there is something +corrupting in the labours of its acquisition. I think I had rather be +a vagrant, with a crust in my knapsack, a blue sky above me, and the +adventurous road before me, than look upon the world with a pair of +eyes so laughterless as his who was our host that night. + +Again I protest that I make no railing accusation against wealth in +itself. I am so far convinced of the truly beneficent utilities of +wealth, that I would quite willingly take the risks of a moderate +competence, should any one be disposed to make experiment with my +virtues. There is some magnanimity in this offer, for I can no more +foretell the effects of the bacillus of wealth upon my moral nature, +than can the physician who offers his body for inoculation with the +germ of some dire disease that science may be served. It argues some +lack of imagination among millionaires that it has occurred to no one +of the tribe to endow a man instead of an institution, if it were only +by way of change. It would at least prove an interesting experiment, +and it would be cheap at the price of the few unmissed thousands which +the millionaire would pay for it. To such an experiment I would be +willing to submit, if it were only to ascertain whether I have been +right or wrong in my supposition that I am better qualified by nature +than my fellows for the right administration of wealth; but there is +one thing I would never do, I would never undertake that laborious +quest of wealth, which robs men of the power to enjoy it when it is +obtained. + +It is there that the pinch comes; granted that some degree of +competence is needed for a free and various use of life, is it worth +while to destroy the power of living in attaining the means to live? +What is a man better for his wealth if he does not know how to use it? +A fool may steal a ship, but it takes a wise man to navigate her +towards the islands of the Blest. I am told sometimes that there is a +romance in business; no doubt there is, but it is pretty often the +romance of piracy; and the pleasures of the rich man are very often +nothing better than the pleasures of the pirate: a barbaric wading in +gold, a reckless piling up of treasure, which he has not the sense to +use. As long as there are shouting crews upon the sea and flaming +ships, he is happy; but give him at last the gold which he has striven +to win, and he knows nothing better than to sit like the successful +pirate in a common ale-house, and make his boast to boon companions. I +believe that the dullest men in all the world are very rich men; and I +have sometimes thought that it cannot need a very high order of +intelligence to acquire wealth, since some of the meanest of mankind +appear to prosper at the business. A certain vulpine shrewdness of +intelligence seems the thing most needed, and this may coexist with a +general dulness of mind which would disgrace a savage. + +The thing that is least perceived about wealth is that all pleasure in +money ends at the point where economy becomes unnecessary. The man who +can buy anything he covets, without any consultation with his banker, +values nothing that he buys. There is a subtle pleasure in the +extravagance that contests with prudence; in the anxious debates which +we hold with ourselves whether we can or cannot afford a certain thing; +in our attempts to justify our wisdom; in the risk and recklessness of +our operations; in the long deferred and final joy of our possession; +but this is a kind of pleasure which the man of boundless means never +knows. The buying of pictures affords us an excellent illustration on +this point. Men of the type of Balzac's _Cousin Pons_ attain to +rapture in the process because they are poor. They have to walk weary +miles and wait long weeks to get upon the track of their treasure; to +use all their knowledge of art and men to circumvent the malignity of +dealers; to experience the extremes of trepidation and of hope; to deny +themselves comforts, and perhaps food, that they may pay the price +which has at last, after infinite dispute, reached an irreducible +minimum; and the pleasure of their possession is in the ratio of their +pains. But the man who enters a sale-room with the knowledge that he +can have everything he wishes by the signing of a cheque feels none of +these emotions. It seems to me that money has lost more than half its +value since cheques became common. When men kept their gold in iron +coffers, lock-fast cupboards, or a pot buried in an orchard, there was +something tangible in wealth. When it came to counting out gold pieces +in a bag, men remembered by what sweat of mind or body wealth was won, +and they had a sense of parting with something which was really theirs. +But a cheque has never yet impressed me with the least sense of its +intrinsic value. It is a thing so trivial and fragile that the mind +refuses to regard it as the equivalent of lands and houses and solid +bullion. It is a thing incredible to reason that with a stroke of the +pen a man may sign away his thousands. If cheques were prohibited by +law, and all payments made in good coin of the realm, I believe we +should all be much more careful in our expenditure, for we should have +at least some true symbol of what expenditure implies. + +In an ideal state all incomes beyond 10,000 pounds per year should be +prohibited. Almost all the real luxuries of life may be enjoyed on +half that sum; and even this is an excessive estimate. Such a +regulation would be of vast advantage to the rich, simply because it +would impose some limit at which economy commenced. They would then +begin to enjoy their wealth. Avarice would decline, for obviously it +would not be worth while to accumulate a larger fortune than the State +permitted. We might also expect some improvement in manners, for there +would be no room for that vulgar ostentation in which excessive wealth +delights. If a man chose to exceed the limit which the law prescribed +he would do so as a public benefactor; for, of course, the excess of +wealth would be applied to the good of the community, in the relief of +taxation, the adornment of cities, or the establishment of libraries +and art-galleries. It would no doubt be objected that the great +historic houses of the aristocracy could not be maintained on such an +income; five thousand pounds a year would hardly pay the servants on a +great estate, and provide the upkeep of a mansion. But in this case +the State would become the custodian of such houses, which would be +treated as national palaces. It is by no means improbable that their +present owners would be glad to be rid of them on generous terms, which +provided for a nominal ownership and an occasional occupation. However +this may be, it is certain that the rich would profit by the change, +for their chance of getting the most and best out of life would be much +increased by the limit put upon cupidity and ostentation. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +GETTING A LIVING, AND LIVING + +Getting the best and most out of life, I take to be the most rational +object of human existence. Even religion, although it affects to scorn +the phrase, admits the fact; for no man would be religious unless he +were convinced that he thereby added something to his store of +happiness. It is a matter of temperament whether a man treats religion +as a panacea for his mortal troubles, or the 'Open Sesame' of brighter +worlds, but it is quite certain that he regards it as a means of +happiness. I cannot doubt that the anchorites, ascetics, and +cloistered nuns of mediaeval times were happy in their own way, +although it was in a fashion that appears to us highly foolish and +absurd. Even a St. Stylites had his consolations; he was kept warm +upon his pillar by the comfortable sense of his superiority to his +wicked fellow-creatures. + +To get the best out of life there must be some adequate fulfilment of +one's best self. Man is a bundle of tastes and appetites, some lofty, +and some ignoble, but all crying out for satisfaction. Wisdom lies in +the discernment of essentials; in just discrimination between false and +true tastes. Man has been a long time upon the earth, and he has spent +his time for the most part in one ceaseless experiment, viz., how he +may become a satisfactory creature in his own eyes. All civilisations +converge upon this point; and we maybe sure that, in their lonely hours +of meditation, the fantastic warder on the great wall of China, and the +Roman soldier pacing to and fro in the porticoes of the Palatine, had +much the same thoughts. Whosoever speaks to man on the art of becoming +happy is secure of a hearing; even though he be the vilest of quacks he +will have his following, even though he were the worst of scoundrels +some will take him for a prophet. In short, we are all the dupes of +hope, and it needs some experience to assure us that our only real hope +is in ourselves. In our own hearts lies the Eldorado which we scour +the world to find; could we but fulfil our best selves we should ask no +other happiness. + +The question that soon comes to obtrude itself upon the mind of a +thoughtful man in a great city, is this old persistent question of +whether his method of life is such as to answer to the ideal of +fulfilling his best self? It seemed to me that the inhabitants of +cities were too busy getting a living to have time to live. + +Let us take the life of the average business man by way of example. +Such a man will rise early, sleep late, and eat the bread of +carefulness, if he means to succeed. He will probably live--or be said +to live--in some suburb more or less remote from the roaring centre of +affairs. The first light of the winter dawn will see him alert; +breakfast is a hurried passover performance; a certain train must be +caught at all hazard to digestion, and the most leisured moments of the +day will be those he passes in the railway carriage. Once arrived at +his office he must plunge into the vortex of business; do battle with a +thousand rivalries and competitions; day after day must labour in the +same wearisome pursuits, content, perhaps, if at the end of the year he +shall have escaped as by a miracle commercial shipwreck. He will come +back to his residence, night after night, a tired man; not pleasantly +wearied with pursuits which have exercised his complete powers, but +tired to the point of dejection by the narrowness and monotony of his +pursuits. I say he returns to his residence; I scorn to say his home, +for the house he rents is merely the barrack where he sleeps. Of the +life that goes on within this house, which is nominally his, he knows +nothing. In its daily ordering, or even in its external features, he +has no part. He has chosen no item of its furniture; he has had no +hand in its decoration; he has but paid the tradesmen's bills. His +children scarcely know him; they are asleep when he goes off in the +morning, and asleep when he returns at night; he is to them the strange +man who sits at the head of the table once a week and carves the Sunday +joint. It is well for them if they have a mother who possesses gifts +of government, sympathy, and patient comprehension, for it is clear +that they have no father. He gets a living, and perhaps in time an +ample living; but does he live? + +It may be said that this picture is exaggerated; on the contrary, I +think it is under-estimated. I have myself known men whose average +daily absence from 'home' is twelve hours; they disappear by the eight +o'clock morning train, and in times of special business pressure it is +not far from midnight when they return. The trains, cabs, and public +vehicles of London convey, day by day, one million three hundred +thousand of these homeless men to their employments in the city. Here +and there a wise man may be found who resents this tyranny of +suburbanism. I know a young business man, who also chances to possess +domestic instincts, for whom suburbanism grew so intolerable that he +took a house in the very heart of London, that he might lunch and dine +with his wife at his own table without neglecting his business +interests. He was a wise man, but he is the only one I know. Counting +the time passed at luncheon and dinner, the later departure in the +morning, and the earlier arrival at night, he is the clear gainer, day +by day, of three to four hours of domestic intercourse. At the end of +the week he has thus added to the credit of his family life +four-and-twenty hours; at the end of a year he has enjoyed more than +fifty full days of domestic intercourse which would have been forfeited +had he continued to live at Surbiton. He has also saved money, for +though the rent he pays in Central London is more than the rent he paid +at Surbiton, yet he has saved the expense of his season-ticket, +lunches, and occasional dinners at a club or restaurant, and cabs to +Waterloo when he was pressed for time. But it is quite vain to urge +such considerations on the average man of business. He would tell you +frankly that nothing would induce him to live in a house within a +stone's-throw of Leicester Square, although it is a far better built +and more comfortable house than the gimcrack villa which he rents at +Surbiton. The gain in domestic intercourse would not attract him, for +he has long ago lost taste for it; and the privilege of lunching with +his family would repel him, for he is deeply suspicious of the virtues +of domestic cookery. Nor, I suppose, would it influence him to tell +him that by living in Central London, he could command without +inconvenience the full attractions of the town, such as concerts, +lectures, theatres, or those special assemblies which are +representative of London life; for he desires nothing of the kind. +Considerations of economy might affect him, but with all his skill at +figures he seldom has the sense to see that the moiety of income paid +yearly to the railway, by himself and his family, goes a long way +toward the doubling of his rent. In short, suburbanism is his fetish; +it is the keynote of his poor respectability, and he is not to be +diverted from it by any reasons which a sane man would regard as +considerable, if not imperative. + +The most usual excuse of suburbanism is that it is a good thing for the +wife and family of a business man, though it is a bad thing for him. +It is singular that no one seems to recognise the gross selfishness of +this plea. It is like the plea of the vivisectionist, that vivisection +is a bad thing for a rabbit, but a very good thing for humanity, since +humanity profits by the torture of the rabbit. But for my part I doubt +whether there is any real profit to anybody in suburbanism. There is a +town life, and there is a country life, each of which has peculiar +compensations of its own; but suburbanism is a miserable compromise, +which like most compromises combines not the qualities but the defects +of two antagonisms. Its worst effect is that it sets up in one family +two standards of life, which have nothing in common. After a while it +must happen that there is a serious estrangement of taste, and it is +not surprising if this often leads to a much more serious estrangement +of affection. The air of Surbiton may be a little fresher than the air +of Bloomsbury, but what does this count for if the atmosphere of the +hearth be poisoned? Moreover, among the Anglo-Saxon peoples women are +not encouraged to take any vital interest in the pursuits of their +husbands as they are among the Latin races. I should not be surprised +to find that half the women in the London suburbs do not know the +precise nature of their husbands' occupations. A French woman of the +bourgeois class often has a real aptitude for business. She can manage +a shop, keep accounts, take an interest in markets, and in all +questions of commercial enterprise she is the confidante, and often the +adviser, of her husband. Your English woman of the same class prides +herself rather on her total ignorance of business. It is probable that +in twenty years of married life she has not once visited the warehouse +or the office where her husband earns the income which she spends. She +is 'provided for without the sweet sense of providing.' She sees her +husband elated or depressed by things that have happened in the city; +but to her the reasons of his hope or fear are not communicated, nor +would she understand them if they were. His mind speaks a language +foreign to her; his daily operations in the city have for her only the +remote interest of things that have happened in a foreign country, +which appear too unreal to excite any sincere sympathy or apprehension. +Is this divided life good for either party? + +Were some curious observer from another planet to arrive in London, I +think few things would appear to him so extraordinary as a London +suburb at noonday. By ten o'clock in the morning at latest he would +see it denuded of all its male inhabitants. Like that fabulous realm +of Tennyson's _Princess_, it is a realm inhabited by women; and the +only male voice left in the land is the voice of the milk-boy on his +rounds, the necessary postman, and the innocuous grocer's tout. There +is something of the 'hushed seraglio' in these miles of trim houses, +from whose doors and windows only female faces look out. An air of +sensible bereavement lies upon the land. Woman, deprived of her lord +and natural complement, cuts but a poor figure anywhere, but nowhere so +poor as in a wide realm populous with grass widows. By what interests +or avocations, or by what delinquency of duty the tedious hours are +cheated, is not revealed to any male philosopher; but he is a poor +observer who does not recognise something unnatural in this one-sided +life. A few miles away the loud Niagara of London runs swift, and the +air vibrates with all the tumult of the strenuous life of man; but here +the air is dead, unwinnowed by any clamorous wind, unshaken by any +planetary motion. I cannot think this narrow separated life good for +woman, and I am surprised that in these days when woman claims equal +privilege with man, she will submit to it. In the act of getting a +living she also suffers, and loses something of the power to live. If +the distraction of the city hurts the man she is not less injured by +the torpor of the suburb. Let a woman be never so intelligent and +keenly wrought, a suburb will soon enfeeble her, and take the fine edge +off her spirit. Left to the sole society of nursemaids and cooks in +her own house for many hours a day; to the companionship of women +outside her house, whose conversation is mainly gossip about household +difficulties; to the tame diversions of shopping at the nearest +emporium; what power of interest in the larger things of life can be +expected of her? The suburb is her cloister, and she the dedicated +bride of littleness. + +This seems a hard saying, but it can easily be verified by observation. +I have myself known women, rich enough to keep a carriage, who had +never been so far as Hyde Park, never visited the National Gallery, and +never sought any finer music than could be furnished by a local +concert. For them, London as an entity did not exist. This +parochialism of suburban life is its most surprising feature. There is +after all some excuse for Mr. Grant Allen's description of London as an +aggregation of villages, when we find that so vast a number of +Londoners really live the life of villagers. But it is not patriotism +that binds them to the soil, nor local pride, as is the case with +genuine villagers; it is rather sheer inertia. Such pride, if it +existed, might do much for the regeneration of great cities, by +creating a series of eager and intelligent communities, which would vie +with one another in civic self-improvement; but this is just the kind +of pride which does not exist. No one cares how his suburb is +misgoverned, so long as rates are not too exorbitant. A suburb will +wake into momentary life to curb the liberal programmes of the +school-board, or to vote against the establishment of a free library; a +gross self-interest being thus the only variation of its apathy. It +soon falls asleep again, dulled into torpor by the fumes of its own +intolerant smugness. For much of this the element of family separation +in suburban life is answerable. The men pay their rates and house-rent +at Surbiton, but they live their real lives within hearing of the bell +of St. Paul's; how should they take any interest in Surbiton? After +all, Surbiton is to them but a vast caravansary, where they are lodged +and fed at night; and one does not inquire too closely into the +internal amenities of his hotel so long as the food is tolerable, and +the bed clean. + +Suburbanism is, however, but a branch, though an important branch, of +the larger question, whether in cities men do not ultimately sacrifice +the finer qualities and joys of life to the act of getting a living. +It will perhaps be said that the man with a true genius for business +must in any case live in a city; that he is not discontented with the +conditions of his life; that, all things being considered, he is +probably living the kind of life for which he is best fitted. May not +a writer, who is presumably a person of studious and quiet habits, +misinterpret the life of a business man precisely in the same way that +he misinterprets the life of the poor, by applying to it his own +standards instead of measuring it by theirs? Business, for the man of +business genius, is more than an employment; it is his epic, his +romance, his adventurous crusade. He brings to it something of the +statesman's prescience, the diplomatist's sagacity, the great captain's +power of organising victory. His days are battles, his life a long +campaign; and if he does not win the spoil of kingdoms, he does fight +for commercial supremacy, which comes to much the same thing. No doubt +there is much truth in this putting of the case, though it really begs +the main question. But even if we grant that in the larger operations +of commerce a certain type of genius is required, we must remember that +the men of this order are few in number. Every lord of commerce is +attended by a vast retinue of slaves. Very few of these humble +servitors of commerce can ever hope to rise from the ranks into supreme +command. They must labour to create the wealth of the successful +merchant as a private soldier suffers wounds and hardships that fame +may crown his general. Do these men share the higher privileges of +life? Is not life with them the getting of a living rather than +living? Nay, more; is it not the getting of a living for some one else? + +The merchant-prince fulfils himself, for his highest powers of +intelligence are daily taxed to the uttermost; but the case is very +different with that vast army of subordinates, whom we see marching +every morning in an infinite procession to the various warehouses and +offices of London. I have often wondered at their cheerfulness when I +have recollected the nature of their life. For they bring to their +daily tasks not the whole of themselves, but a mere segment of +themselves; some small industrious faculty which represents them, or +misrepresents them, at the tribunal of those who ask no better thing of +them. Few of them are doing the best that they can do, and they know +it. They are not doing it because the world does not ask them to do +it; indeed, the world takes care that they shall have no opportunity of +doing it. A certain faculty for arithmetic represents a man who has +many higher faculties; and thus the man is forced to live by one +capacity which is perhaps his least worthy and significant. This is +not the case in what we call the liberal professions and the arts. The +architect, the barrister, the humblest journalist needs his whole mind +for his task, and hence his work is a delight. The artist, if he be a +true artist, does the one thing that he was born to do, and so 'the +hours pass away untold, without chagrin, and without weariness,' nor +would he wish them to pass otherwise. Many times as I took my way to +the dreary labours of my desk I stopped to watch, and sometimes to talk +with, a smiling industrious little Frenchman, who repaired china and +bronzes in a dingy shop in Welbeck Street. He was an expert at his +trade; knew all the distinctive marks of old china, and could assign +with certainty the right date of any piece of bronze he handled; and to +hear him discourse on these things would have been a liberal education +to a budding connoisseur. I never knew a man so indefatigably happy in +his work; his eye lit up at any special glow of colour or delicacy of +design; he used his tools as though he loved them; and if he dreamed at +night, I doubt not that his canopies were coloured with the hues of +Sèvres, and that bronze angels from the hand of Benvenuto stood about +his bed. Plainly the man was happy because his work engaged his whole +attention; and to every cunning rivet that he fashioned he gave the +entire forces of his mind. Here was a man who not merely got a living +but lived; and I, chained to my desk, knew well enough that his life +was much more satisfactory than mine. + +Money has little to do with this problem of satisfactory living; I +think that this was the first discovery I made in the direction of a +better mode of life. My French workman earned perhaps two pounds a +week: I earned four or five; but he bought happiness with his work, +whereas I bought discontent and weariness. Money may be bought at too +dear a rate. The average citizen, if he did but know it, is always +buying money too dear. He earns, let us say, four hundred pounds a +year; but the larger proportion of this sum goes in what is called +'keeping up appearances.' He must live in a house at a certain rental; +by the time that his rates and taxes are paid he finds one-eighth of +his income at least has gone to provide a shelter for his head. A +cottage, at ten pounds a year, would have served him better, and would +have been equally commodious. He must needs send his children to some +private 'academy' for education, getting only bad education and high +charges for his pains; a village board-school at twopence a week would +have offered undeniable advantages. He must wear the black coat and +top-hat sacred to the clerking tribe; a tweed suit and cap are more +comfortable, and half the price. At all points he is the slave of +convention, and he pays a price for his convention out of all +proportion to its value. At a moderate estimate half the daily +expenditure of London is a sacrifice to the convention or imposture of +respectability. + +Unless a man have, however, a large endowment of that liberal +discontent which makes him perpetually examine and reexamine the +conditions of his life, he will be a long time before he even suspects +that he is the victim of artificial needs. When once the yoke of habit +is imposed, the shoulder soon accustoms itself to the bondage, and the +aches and bruises of initiation are forgotten. There are spasms of +disgust, moments of wise suspicion; but they are transient, and men +soon come to regard a city as the prison from whence there is no +escape. But is no escape possible? That was the question which +pressed more and more upon me as the years went on. I saw that the +crux of the whole problem was economic, I knew that I was not the +gainer by a larger income, if I could buy a more real satisfaction on +less income. I saw that it was the artificial needs of life that made +me a slave; the real needs of life were few. A cottage and a hundred +pounds a year in a village meant happiness and independence; but dared +I sacrifice twice or thrice the income to secure it? The debate went +on for years, and it was ended only when I applied to it one fixed and +reasoned principle. That principle was that my first business as a +rational creature was _not to get a living but to live_; and that I was +a fool to sacrifice the power of living in securing the means of life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +EARTH-HUNGER + +Like Charles II., who apologised for being so unconscionably long in +dying, I must apologise for being so long in coming to my point, which +is the possibility of buying happiness at a cheaper rate than London +offers it. As it took me twenty years of experience to make my +discovery, I may claim, however, that three chapters is no immoderate +amount of matter in which to describe it. My chief occupation through +these years was to keep my discontent alive. Satisfaction is the death +of progress, and I knew well that if I once acquiesced entirely in the +conditions of my life, my fate was sealed. + +I did not acquiesce, though the temper of my revolt was by no means +steady. There were times when--to reverse an ancient saying--the muddy +Jordan of London life seemed more to me than all the sparkling waters +of Damascus. Humanity seemed indescribably majestic; and there were +moments when I sincerely felt that I would not exchange the trampled +causeways of the London streets for the greenest meadows that bordered +Rotha or Derwentwater. There were days of early summer when London +rose from her morning bath of mist in a splendour truly unapproachable; +when no music heard of man seemed comparable with the long diapason of +the crowded streets; when from morn to eve the hours ran with an +inconceivable gaiety and lightness, and the eye was in turn inebriated +with the hard glare and deep shadows of abundant light, with the +infinite contrasts of the streets, with the far-ranged dignity of domes +and towers swimming in the golden haze of midday, or melting in the +lilac mists of evening. I felt also, in this vast congregation of my +fellow-creatures, the exhilarating sense of my own insignificance. Of +what value were my own opinions, hopes, or programmes in this huge +concourse and confusion of opinion? Who cared what one human brain +chanced to think, where so many million brains were thinking? I was +swept on like a bubble in the stream, and I forgot my own +individuality. And this forgetfulness became a pleasure; the mind, +wearied of its own affairs, found delight in recollecting that the +things that seemed so great to it were after all of infinitesimal +importance in the general sum of things. + +Astronomy is often credited with providing this sensation; writers of +fiction especially are fond of explaining how the voyage of the eye +through space humbles the individual pride of man through the +oppression of magnitude and vastness. They might come nearer home, for +terrestrial magnitudes produce the same effect as celestial magnitudes; +the mind loses itself as readily in the abyss of London as in those +gulfs of chaos that open in the Milky Way, confronting the eye with +naked infinitude; and this sense of personal insignificance is at once +a horror and a joy. That humble acquiescence of the Londoner in his +fate which we call his apathy, is the natural consequence of an +overwhelming sense of personal insignificance. The great reformer +should be country-born; in the solitude of nature he may come to think +himself significant, and have faith in those thoughts and intuitions +which no one contradicts. But in London, collective life, by its mere +immensity, overwhelms individual life so completely that no audacity or +arrogance of genius can supply that continuous and firm faith in +himself which the reformer must possess. + +If I resisted these debilitating influences, it was through no +particular virtue of my own: it was rather through what I may call a +kind of earth-hunger. I had an obstinate craving for fresh air, +unimpeded movement, outdoor life. I wanted the earth, and I wanted to +live in the close embrace of the earth. Some ancestor of mine must +have been a hermit on a mountain, a gipsy, or a peasant: I know not +which, but something of the temperament of all three had been +bequeathed to me. The smell of fresh-turned earth was a smell that +revived in me a portion of my nature that had seemed dead; a flower set +me dreaming of solitary woods; and I found myself watching clouds and +weather-signs as though my bread depended on their lenience. The first +time I saw a mountain I burst into tears, an act which astonished me no +less than my companions. I could offer no explanation of my conduct, +but I felt as though the mountain called me. I said to myself, 'There +is my home, yonder is the earth of which my corporeal part is +fashioned; it is there that I should live and die.' Even a London park +in the first freshness of a summer morning produced these sensations; +and those rare excursions which I took into the genuine country left me +aching for days afterwards with an exquisite pain. I often imagined +myself living as Wordsworth did in Dove Cottage, as Thoreau did in the +Walden Woods, and the vision was delightful. I took an agricultural +paper, and read it diligently, not because it was of the least +practical utility to me, but because its simple details of country life +seemed to me a kind of poetry. In my rambles I never saw a lovely site +without at once going to work to build an imaginary cottage on it, and +the views I had from the windows of my dream-cottages were more real to +me than the actual prospects on which I looked every day. I have even +gone so far as to seek the offices of land-agents, and haggle over the +price of land which I never meant to buy, for the mere pleasure of +fancying it was mine; and this kind of game was long pursued, for +land-agents are a numerous tribe, and when one discovered my imposture, +there was always another ready to accept me as a capitalist in search +of the picturesque. In short, to possess one small fragment of the +world's surface; to have a hut, a cabin, or a cottage that was verily +my own, to eat the fruits of my own labour on the soil--this seemed to +me the crown and goal of all human felicity. Conscript of the city as +I was, drilled and driven daily in the grim barrack-yard of despotic +civilisation, yet I was a deserter at heart; an earth-hunger as +rapacious and intense as that of any French or Irish peasant burned in +my bones, and, like the peasant conscript that I truly was, my dreams +were all of green pastures and running streams, and the happy +loneliness of open spaces under open skies. + +This kind of earth-hunger is, I believe, not common among English +people to-day; if it were, the tide of life would not set so steadily +townward as it does. The class in which it existed most strongly was +the yeoman class, and this is a class which has practically +disappeared. In my youth I knew half a dozen persons of this class, to +whom towns were genuinely abhorrent. They would come to London once or +twice in their lives, visit certain market towns in their district at +intervals, and escape back into the country with the joy of wild birds +liberated from a cage. The mere grime and dirt of cities horrified +them; they were suffocated in the close air, and they were driven half +distracted by the clamour of the streets. These men lived, upon the +whole, lives of not immoderate labour: or, as one might say, of sober +ease, They possessed little money, it is true, but the want of it did +not appear to trouble them. Their houses were plain, their method of +life simple, and clearly it had not entered their minds to covet any +more sumptuous modes of life. All this is changed now. The daily +press, which presents a thousand pictures of the bustling life of +cities, goes everywhere, and has communicated a strange restlessness to +the rural mind. Increased means of locomotion have brought London to +the very door of village communities. If men to-day actually possessed +the acres on which they toil they would be in no hurry to leave them; +they would be effectually chained to the soil by the sense of +independence and proprietorship, as is the case among the rural +population of France, who do not rent but own the land. The yeomen did +own the land, and that was the secret of their content. But when the +day of large farms came, the small landowners were crushed out; and as +for the mere peasant, he has no chance at all of ever owning land, and +never has had; so that he has every inducement to crowd into towns +where wages are nominally higher, and he soon outgrows that natural +earth-hunger which modern civilisation affords him no means of +gratifying. + +By virtue of the peasant or gipsy blood in me I kept my earth-hunger +through twenty years of London life, but I count my case unique. I +never found any one who shared my feelings; on the contrary, I found +that whatever primitive instincts toward country life my friends may +have had once, London had made an effectual end of them. The country +means for most Londoners, not the blessed solitude of open spaces, but +Margate or Brighton. When the annual summer exodus arrives he does +but exchange one kind of town for another kind. He carries with him +all the aptitudes and artificial instincts of the town; he loves the +bustle of a crowd; he wants boarding-houses full of company, and +streets brilliant with electric light; and he returns to town, after a +vivacious fortnight, without having once looked upon the real country, +unless it be with the distracted eye of a rider on a _char-à-banc_. If +my earth-hunger did not die in London, it was mainly because my +holidays were of a very different description. I never visited but one +watering-place, and that was enough. I never stayed in a +boarding-house in my life, nor would the promise of all my expenses +paid and a handsome bonus into the bargain tempt me to the experiment. +I sought the country absolute; a cottage or a little farm remote from +towns and out of sound of railways; villages so tiny that maps refuse +to name them. I can count half a dozen of these places which haunt my +memory with all the sanctity of some religious dream. They were my +temporary cloisters, where I received the sacrament of silence; the +woodland sanctuaries where my spirit was renewed. When my friends +returned from Margate they were full of chatter about the people that +they had met, and they went about whistling the last song they had +heard upon the beach. I had met no one but a few simple labouring +folk, and the music I remembered was the whistling of blackbirds and +thrushes in the early dawn. I knew that I had purchased much finer +pleasure in a single day, and at a cheaper rate, than they in a month +of days; but I never told them so, for they would not have understood +me. The ear that hungers for the raucous strains of cockney Pierrots +on a beach cannot attune itself to the notes of the morning thrush. + +There is one tiny farm that I love to think of, because its tenants +taught me better than a thousand books could have done how real was the +felicity of simple life. It had six rooms all told, and was little +better than a cottage. Before its door ran a clear river which +connected two lakes; a pinewood rose behind the house, and behind this +again the lower buttresses of the everlasting hills. The nearest town +was seven miles away; you reached it by a lovely road, in part through +pinewoods, in part over open moors, with the silver flashing of a lake +never far away, and the purple mountains always close at hand. The +farm-holding was insignificantly small, as was the case in those parts; +but my host uttered no word of its insufficiency. He grew enough oats +to provide good oatmeal for his family and fodder for his horse; his +potatoes also came from his own soil, and his bacon from his own stye; +his few sheep gave him fresh meat, or brought him a little money in the +market, and from their wool every blanket in the house was spun, and +even his own clothing woven. Two cows provided milk and butter for the +household; his fowls gave him eggs and occasionally a dinner; and thus +with the exception of the yearly grocer's bill he spent next to no +money. I dwelt beneath this humble roof for a month, and I profess +that in all that time I never saw the members of the household engaged +in any labour that was not also a pleasure. There was plenty of work, +of course: cows to be milked, vegetables to be dug and cleansed, meals +to be prepared, the little harvest to be gathered in; but it was work +that one could do with singing. No one hurried over it, for there was +ample time for every duty of the day. No one felt these simple duties +burdensome, because they were so natural and inevitable, It was a rare +day when some member of the household did not find an hour or two for +fishing, and a disappointing breakfast that did not show a lordly dish +of trout. + +It may be imagined that in a place so remote culture would be +missing--at least the love and knowledge of books which we call +culture; but when I say the place was Scotch this delusion is disposed +of. The children had had to walk that long seven miles a day and back +again, in all weathers, to obtain an education. They had grown up to +value it, and were the better mentally as well as physically for their +thousands of miles of tramping. There were books in the little +household, and good books too. As often as not when we sat round the +red peats of an evening, we discussed Browning or Herbert Spencer. +That year it happened that a party of students from Edinburgh +University were camping in the neighbourhood, and they often joined us +round the farm fire of an evening. They talked about books and +opinions and men with all the omniscience of youth; but the two girls +of the household held their own with them. Ah, Kate M'Intyre, you did +me much friendly service in tying flies for me that summer, and +teaching me something of the craft of fishing; but you did a far more +enduring service in helping me to see that one does not need towns and +libraries to grow the fine flower of wholesome cultured womanhood. +Here, beside that lake, whose lady has been made immortal by the hand +of Scott, you showed me that God grows ladies still who wear homespun +and live in cottages, and are all the wiser and sweeter for the bright +seclusion of their lives. In a town, you and your family, endowed only +with such means as you found sufficient for existence, would have been +despondent drudges, you yourself perhaps working in a sewing-room in +bad air and for poor pay, but here you were the free-holders of nature. +Never did I see you go about your simple duties--always with a bright +look and a snatch of song--but I said to myself, 'She hath chosen the +better part, which shall not be taken away from her'; and I say it +still, though I am well aware that the smart young women of London +shops and restaurants will not believe me. I dare say they would count +themselves much better off than you in money, in dress, and in +opportunities of pleasure; but I know who was the richer in vitality, +in health, and in the power of happiness. + +When I lived among these simple folk I shared not only their roof but +their labours, and it was thus I came to distinguish between the nature +of work in cities and work in the country. To obtain my meal in a city +I had to do things that were distasteful to me; I had to shut myself +away from the fresh air and sunlight in a dingy room and to spend dull +hours in tasks which afforded me no genuine intellectual pleasure. +Here, on the contrary, every duty had a pastime yoked with it. I rose +early, not only that I might learn to milk the cows, but that I might +see the sunrise; if I went into the woods to saw logs that would +presently make a clear flame on the evening fire, my lungs drank health +among the forest fragrances; when I went fishing I did something not +only pleasurable but useful, for I added dainties to my larder. In the +city I lived to work; here I worked to live. I might go further and +say that in the city I lived to work for other people, for my brains +were daily exploited that my master might maintain a house at +Kensington, and when the landlord, the water-lord, the light-lord, and +the rate-collector had all had their dues from me there was little +enough left that I could call my own. Here, on the contrary, all that +I did had an immediate and direct relation to my own well-being. The +amount of work I had to do to live was light, and I bought with it +something that was my own. We are so used to the exactions of a +complicated and artificial life, that it is an amazing discovery to +ascertain how small is the toll of labour which Nature asks of those +who live naturally. You have but to do certain things which in +themselves are pleasures to obtain ample means of life; and as these +things are soon and easily done by a healthy human creature there is an +abundant leisure at his command. To split pine-logs, dig a garden, +pull a heavy boat down the lake after fish, tramp up the hillside to +collect the sheep, are simply so many exercises of the body, the +equivalents of which town youths find in the gymnasium or the football +field; the difference is that all this exertion in the gymnasium, which +the town youth takes to keep up his health, would in the country _keep +him_. The same amount of muscular exertion which a town youth puts +forth to chase a ball round a twenty acre field would, if properly +applied, put a roof over his head and food on his table. The sports of +the civilised man are means of life to the natural man. If a man must +needs sweat, and be bemired, and have an aching back, it is surely +better economy to have a house and a good meal at the end of it all +than merely a good appetite for a meal that he has yet to pay for. I +do not object to buy health in hard physical exercise if I can buy it +in no other way; but I am better satisfied if I can buy health and a +meal at the same time and for the same price. This is practically what +is done every day by men who live in the country. In a town they would +undertake an equal amount of muscular exertion for the sake of health, +and would find that they still had 'to go to business' to live; here +they have done their business in doing their pleasure. + +Earth-hunger is without doubt the most wholesome passion men can +entertain, and if Governments were wise they would do all they could to +fortify and gratify it. On the contrary, the settled policy of English +Government is entirely hostile to it. There is no country where it is +so difficult to acquire freehold land in small quantities--a subject on +which I shall have more to say presently. Bad land-laws lie at the +back of what we call the urban tendencies of modern life. If fifty +years ago the Irish peasantry had had the same facilities for acquiring +land that they have to-day, it is safe to say that there would have +been little or no emigration, for never was there race that left the +land of its fathers with such bitter and entire reluctance as the +Irish. The English peasant shares the same reluctance, though his +slower nature is incapable of expressing it with the same volubility of +anguish. Give him enough land to live upon; make him a proprietor +instead of a serf; let him have fair railway rates, so that his produce +can fetch its proper price in the markets, and there were no man so +proud and so content as he. But this is just what the feudal laws of +England will not do for him; and so millions of acres fall out of +cultivation and farms go a-begging because the men who could have kept +them prosperous have been forced to sell their thews and muscles to be +prostituted in the dismal drudgeries of cities. + +There is an even worse result. Earth-hunger has been displaced by +Money-hunger. Simple ideas of life must needs perish where the nature +of a nation's life makes them difficult or impossible of attainment. A +country-born youth might keep to the soil, if he saw the slightest hope +that the soil would keep him; when he sees that this is impossible he +files to cities, because he believes that there is more gold to be +picked up in the city mire in a month than can be won from the ploughed +fallow in a year. It is not until the altars of Pan are overthrown +that the worship of Mammon is triumphant, and the mischief is that when +the great god Pan is driven away he returns no more. When once +Money-hunger seizes on a nation, that primitive and wholesome +Earth-hunger--old as the primal Eden, where man's life began--is +stifled at the birth; the spade and harrow rust, and instead of swords +being beaten to ploughshares, ploughshares are beaten into swords for +the use of soldiers who are the gladiators of commercial avarice; the +wealth of the country runs into the swamp of speculation; the scripture +of Nature is cast aside for the blotted pages of the betting-book; +sport becomes not a means of recreation but of gambling; and instead of +sturdy races bred upon the soil, and drawing from the soil solid +qualities of mind and body, you have blighted and anaemic races, bred +amid the populous disease of cities, and incapable of any task that +shall demand steady energy, continuous thought, or sober powers of +reflection or of will. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HEALTH AND ECONOMICS + +Enough has been said to show that I never heartily settled to a town +life, and that the obstacle to content was my own character. Mere +discontent with one's environment, however useful it may be as an +irritant to prevent stagnation and brutish acquiescence, obviously does +not carry one very far. Men may chafe for years at the conditions of +their lot without in any way attempting to amend them. I soon came to +see that I was in danger of falling into this condition of futility. I +was, therefore, forced to face the question whether my continual inward +protest against the kind of life which I led was founded on anything +more stable than an opinion or a sentiment? No man ever yet took a +positively heroic or original course for the sake of an opinion. +Opinion must become conviction before it has any potency to change the +ordering of life. I saw plainly that I must either bring my thoughts +to the point of conviction or discard them altogether. + +There is a good phrase which is sometimes used about men who are +members of a party, without in any way entering into its propagandist +aims--we say that they 'do not play the game.' They may have excellent +philosophic reasons for their aloofness, or even admirable scruples; +but parties do not ask for either. Parties ask for party loyalty, and +to give this loyalty personal scruples must be set aside. I could not +but apply this doctrine to my own state of mind. London asked me to +play the game, and I was not playing it. It was impossible to put +heart into a kind of life which I inwardly detested. I did my day's +work with a mind divided; and, although no one could accuse me of +wilful negligence, yet a child could see that my work missed that +quality of entire efficiency which makes for success. I might count +myself much superior to men like Arrowsmith by the possession of +superior sentiments, yet, in the long run, my sentiment debilitated me, +and his destitution of sentiment was a source of power to him in the +kind of work we both had to do. To the man who detests the nature of +his employment as I detested mine, I would say at once, either conquer +your detestation or change your work. Work that is not genuinely loved +cannot possibly be done well. It is no use chafing and fretting and +wishing that you lived in the country, if you know perfectly well that +you have not the least intention of living anywhere but in the town. +If it is town life you are really bent upon, the sooner rustic +instincts are uprooted the better for you. London can prove herself a +complaisant mistress to those who desire no other, but she will give +nothing to those who flout her in their hearts. In plain words there +is no middle course between accepting the yoke or finally rejecting it; +either course may be justified, but it is the silliest folly to accept +with complacency a yoke which you mean to shake off the moment you have +courage or opportunity to revolt. London marks such dissemblers with +an angry eye, as captains mark reluctant soldiers; and if time holds no +disgrace for them it will certainly bring them no advancement. + +Were my fine theories composed of mere fluid sentiment, or had they +some more consistent element in them which was capable of hardening +into invincible conviction? That was my problem. It was debated in +season and out of season. Gradually the two dominant factors in the +problem became evident; they were health and economics. + +There could be no question about health. It was true that I had +suffered from no serious illness in my life, but London kept me in a +normal state of low vitality. I had constant headaches, fits of +depression, and minor physical derangements. I rarely knew what it was +to wake in the morning with that clear joyousness of spirit which marks +vigorous vitality. A London winter I dreaded, and I had good reason +for my dread. When the fog lay on the town an unbearable oppression +lay also on my spirits. Imagination had little to do with this +oppression; it was the physical result of lack of oxygen. It was the +same with my children; they grew pinched and bleached in face, and went +about their little tasks with the slowness of old men. It is stated, I +believe, that London is the healthiest city in the world; no doubt it +is true as regards the actual percentage of disease to the immense +population, but statistics take no account of lowered vitality. +Without being actually ill, vitality may be reduced to a point at which +existence becomes a kind of misery. Alcohol dissolves for a time the +cloud on the mind, the incubus upon the energies; and the relief is so +great that men do not think of the price they pay for it. No wonder +public-houses are the landmarks of London locomotion; they are the +Temples of Oblivion, where the devitalised multitudes seek to forget +themselves, that they may regain the courage to live at all. + +For myself, I had sense to know that stimulants of this kind were a +remedy much worse than the disease. The only stimulant, at once safe +and effectual, which I needed was fresh air. The moment I found myself +among the hills a miraculous change was wrought in me. I had not +breathed that quick and vital air for an hour before a glow ran through +my veins more delightful, and much more enduring, than the glow of +wine. A single night in some small cottage chamber--where the very bed +had a cool scent of flowers and lawns, where the open window admitted +air fresh from pine forest and mountain streams, where the silence was +so deep that one's pulse seemed to tick aloud like a watch--and I awoke +a man renewed. Six o'clock, or even five, was not too soon for all my +little household to be astir. We were all alike eager for the open +air; for the walk, bare-footed, through the dewy grass to the mountain +pool; for the shock and thrill of that green water into which we +plunged delighted; and in those prolonged and pure ablations I think +our spirits shared. The bells of laughter rang the livelong day. The +cramped mind began to move again, and long abdicated powers of fancy +and of humour were restored. Equanimity of body brought evenness of +temper; it was incredible to recollect how irritable we had been with +one another in those ghastly days of London fog, when the very grating +of a chair along the floor made the nerves jump. Even the mind took +new edge, for though I did not read much upon a holiday, yet I found +that what I did read left a clearness of impression to which I had long +been unaccustomed. And what was the root and cause of all this +miracle? Fresh air, wholesome food, rude health--nothing more! To +feel that it is bliss to be alive, health alone is needed. And by +health I mean not the absence of physical ailment or disease, but a +high condition of vitality. This the country gave me; this the town +denied me. The only question was then, at what rate did I value the +boon? + +This brought me immediately to the much more complex problem of +economics. I knew that men could live in the country on small means, +for men did so; but I perceived that the art of living in the country +did not come by nature. Every one supposes that he can drive a horse +or grow potatoes; and, when we recollect how many thousands of men go +to Canada to take up agricultural pursuits without the least knowledge +of the business, it is clear that the belief is general that any man +can farm. I may claim the merit of freedom from this popular delusion. +I not only knew that I could not farm, but I did not wish to be a +farmer. What I wished was to live in the country in some modest way +that answered to my needs; to earn by some form of exertion a small +income; and at the most, to grow my own vegetables, catch my own fish, +and snare my own rabbits. + +A legacy of two hundred a year would have served my purpose admirably, +but modesty forbade me laying my case before benevolent millionaires, +and a destitution of maiden aunts put an end to any hopes of a bequest +by natural causes. + +What was my precise position then? I had a salary of two hundred and +fifty pounds a year. An investment that had turned out fortunately +gave me about forty pounds a year. I had done from time to time a +little work for the press, which had been worth to me about thirty +pounds a year more. My total budget showed, then, an annual income of +three hundred and twenty pounds, which I found barely sufficient for my +needs as a dweller in towns. If I migrated to a cottage, how would +matters stand with me? I should lose my two hundred and fifty pounds +per annum of course, and this was an alarming prospect. But, on the +other hand, I reminded myself that I had never really possessed it. I +prepared various tables in which I arranged the items of my expenditure +under two heads, viz. the expenditure that was inevitable, and the +expenditure that was evitable, because it was the result of town life. +I shall best explain by giving a sample of these tables:-- + + + TABLE I. + + INEVITABLE EXPENDITURE. L. s. d. + + Food and general household expenses, + calculated at 30s. per week . . . . . 78 0 0 + Books, magazines, and papers . . . . . . 5 0 0 + Clothes for two adults and two children . 20 0 0 + Insurances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 0 0 + Holidays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 0 0 + Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 0 0 + Sundries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 0 0 + Rent, rates, and taxes . . . . . . . . . 65 0 0 + ---------- + L268 0 0 + + TABLE II. + + EVITABLE EXPENDITURE. + + If I adopted a country life. L. s. d. + + Holidays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 0 0 + By saving on rent, rates, and taxes, + calculating my cottage cost me not + more than L20 per annum . . . . . . . 45 0 0 + By saving in food . . . . . . . . . . . 20 0 0 + ---------- + L95 0 0 + + +It will be seen that I allowed no reduction in clothes and books, for I +did not wish my children to be dressed as beggars, or to be ignorant of +current literature. + +It does not need the eye of a chartered accountant to perceive that +whatever may be said for Table II., Table I. is not satisfactory. In +it I accounted for only 268 pounds, whereas I have already stated my +total income was 320 pounds. What became of the 52 pounds which found +no record in my ingenuous schedule? I could not tell, but I was pretty +sure that it was absorbed in the petty wastefulness of town life. +Londoners are so accustomed to constant daily expenditure in small +ways, that it occurs to no one to ascertain how considerable an +encroachment this aggregate expenditure is upon the total yearly +income. In all but very fine weather I must needs use some means of +public conveyance every day; there was a daily lunch to be provided; +and when work kept me late at the office there was tea as well. One +can lunch comfortably on a shilling or eighteenpence a day; and I knew +places where I could have lunched for much less, but they were in parts +of the town which I could not reach in the brief time at my disposal. +Moreover, one must needs be the slave of etiquette even though he be a +clerk, and if all the staff of an office frequent a certain restaurant, +one must perforce fall into line with them under penalty of social +ostracism. Thus, whether I liked it or not, for five days in the week +I had to spend eighteenpence a day for lunch, and fourpence for teas; +and if we add those small gratuities which the poorest men take it as a +point of honour to observe, here was an annual expenditure of 25 +pounds. Taking one thing with another 5 pounds might be added for 'bus +and railway fares; so that only 22 pounds is left to be accounted for. +And now, if we return to Table II., it is obvious that my income of 320 +pounds per annum was only nominal, because a very great part of it was +really spent in keeping up a position which a town life imposed upon +me. Before I touched a single penny of my nominal income of 250 pounds +per annum, I had paid 30 pounds per year in the daily expenses +inevitable to my position, and 65 pounds for rent and taxes, which was +quite 45 pounds more than I ought to pay. Education comes also to be +considered at this point. My two children went to a very respectable +school at the cost of a little more than 15 pounds per annum each. No +doubt I might have sent them to a Board school, where they would have +received a better education; but in the part of London where I lived +there was no Board school within easy reach, and besides this, though I +hate the pretension of gentility, manners and companionship have to be +considered as well as education in the choice of a school. A child may +take no harm by sitting on the same bench with village children, but +the London gamin is not a desirable acquaintance. In this, as in other +matters, I paid through the nose for my position; and the convention +cost me a clear 35 pounds per annum. Thus I calculated that out of a +nominal income of 250 pounds per annum 100 pounds was paid as a tax to +convention and respectability. + +I have no doubt that a good many flaws may be found in these +calculations; but one point is beyond dispute, viz., that a town income +is always more apparent than real. Money is worth no more than its +purchasing power. The business man who is offered 1000 pounds per +annum in New York against 700 pounds per annum in London, refuses the +offer unless it carries with it great contingent advantages, because he +knows perfectly well that 700 pounds a year in London is worth a good +deal more than 1000 pounds a year in New York. But the same kind of +prudent calculation is seldom applied to the case of town versus +country living at home. It is impossible to persuade the labourer that +a pound a week in London is really less than fifteen shillings a week +in the country. Men are dazzled by mere figures, and there is no +country clerk who would not jump at the idea of a fifty pounds a year +rise in London, though ten minutes spent over a sum in addition and +subtraction would be sufficient to assure him that he would not be +enlarging his income but diminishing it. A man has to live upon a +certain scale suited to his needs and tastes, but the income which +makes this kind of life possible is a variable quantity. It is not by +what men earn in the aggregate that their incomes should be measured, +but by what they have left when the necessary cost of living is +defrayed. If it costs a man fifty pounds a year more to live in London +than in the country, he is obviously no better off by the extra fifty +pounds he earns in London. He is not earning fifty pounds for himself +but fifty pounds for the landlord, the rate-collector, the gas-man, the +restaurant proprietor, the omnibus and railway companies. His gold +never reaches his own pocket; it is filched from him by dexterous +thieves; it gleams before him for an instant like the coin spun in the +air by the conjurer or thimble-rigger, and then vanishes for ever. Yet +I have found few men keen enough to penetrate the delusion; it would +seem they love to be deluded, and by their conduct justify the satiric +lines of _Hudibras_-- + + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + To cheated be as 'tis to cheat. + +In most things I claim to be no wiser than my fellow-men, but in this I +knew myself wiser; I knew where I was cheated. I knew that the +schoolmaster who cost me thirty pounds a year was a licensed footpad; +half the money spent in restaurants and tea-shops was blackmail paid to +respectability; the landlord who took his forty-five pounds a year from +my pocket was a mere robber, who took advantage of the need I had to +live in a certain locality that I might attend to my vocation. Not +only were my brains exploited that my employer might maintain a +sumptuous house at Kensington, but the wage he paid me was exploited by +a host of other people, who had houses of their own to maintain. +Before I could feed my children I must help to pay for and cook the +dinner of the folk who lived on the dividends of railways and omnibus +companies. On the way to my office the tailor took toll of me by +forcing me to wear a garb which I detested, simply because I dared wear +no other garb. I could not even drink plain water but that some one +was the richer. I was the common gull of the thing called convention. +I was plucked to the skin, and if my skin had been worth turning into +leather, some one would have put in a claim to that. Even for my skin, +poor asset as it was, some one did wait, when it had ceased to be of +use to me, for London cemeteries declare dividends upon the dead. My +case reminded me of an old gentleman I once knew, who wore so many +coats, waistcoats, and shirts to keep warmth in a body of singular +attenuation, that it was commonly said that by the time James Smith +undressed at night there was very little James Smith that was +discoverable. Certainly by the time London had done wringing gold out +of me there was very little gold left that was my own. + +There was, however, one kind of comfort to be deduced from these +reflections; if I was not nearly so well off as I appeared to be, I had +all the less to lose. Rightly considered it would not be 250 pounds +per annum that I should lose by leaving London, for I had never +possessed that sum, I calculated my real loss at something nearer 150 +pounds, and this seemed not so terrible a thing. I had my forty pounds +a year for certain. I had the small earnings of my pen, and with +abundant time upon my hands I saw every reason why these should be +increased. Could I face a new kind of life upon an income of seventy +pounds per annum? Ah, how anxiously that problem was debated with my +wife, many a night when the children were abed! The natural +conservatism of woman had a great deal to say in these debates. 'It +was all very well,' said my wife, 'to do these little sums on paper, +but suppose the facts did not correspond? Suppose I found no cottage +at twenty pounds a year, and no decent school at sixpence a week? Then +the world was full of writers for the press.' (I frowned.) 'Not of +course like you, not half so good,' she added with a smile, 'but how do +you know that you will succeed? Show me a fixed income of 100 pounds a +year, and I would chance it, for I can live simply enough,' she would +say, 'and am as fond of liberty as you.' + +She might have added what I knew to be true, that the penalties of +London life fell heavier upon her than me. I was not insensible to the +instantaneous lightening of spirits that happened with her when she was +able to forsake the abominable purlieus of the cellar-kitchen where her +life was spent; and although I knew not half her toils, nor half her +dejections and anxieties, which were sedulously kept from me, yet I was +not wholly blind. I had seen her too amid the roses of a cottage +garden flying the colour of long-forgotten roses in her cheeks; in the +hay-field shaking off a dozen years in as many hours; and although she +was always young to me, she never seemed so young and sweet as when we +walked a honeysuckled lane together. Her desire was with me I knew +well; she had no fear of poverty, and would have been content with +plainer fare than I; but her children made her prudent. + +At last the one thing happened which made her prudence coincide with +her desires; one of the children sickened with a languor that was the +precursor of disease, and the doctors said that only country air could +bring back strength. And then fate itself took the whole matter out of +my control. Something happened in the city--I know not what--and the +firm I served came near to shipwreck. Business shrank to a diminished +channel, and the staff of clerks must needs be reduced. I have said +some hard words of my employer as the exploiter of my labour; he will +appear no more in this history, and my last word about him shall be +justly kind. He broke the news of his misfortune to me with a delicacy +that made me respect him, and with a hesitating painful shame that made +me pity him. He praised me beyond my merit for my twenty years of +service; he had hoped to keep me with him for another twenty years, and +I believe he spoke the truth when he said it pained him to think that +his misfortunes should be mine. He handed me in silence a cheque for +fifty pounds. He then shook my hand heartily, murmured some vague +words about hoping to reinstate me if things should mend, and hurried +from me; and in his broken look and bowed shoulders I read the prophecy +that his days of fortune and success were gone for ever. The little +tragedy was played out in less than ten minutes. I locked my desk, put +on my hat and coat, and went out into the street; and my heart felt a +pang at leaving the place which I should never have imagined possible. +I had walked fully half a mile before another thought occurred to me. +My blood suddenly sang in my veins, and I remembered that I was an +emancipated slave; at last I was Free! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE + +I was free, but what was I to do with my freedom? Ingenious apologists +for slavery used to argue that the slave was much happier as a bondman +than a freeman, as long as the conditions of his bondage were not +unendurably harsh: but no one ever knew a slave who held this creed. +There never was a slave who did not prefer his dinner of herbs, earned +by his own labour, to the stalled ox of luxurious captivity. For my +part, I thought the air never tasted so sweet as on that morning of my +liberation. I walked slowly, drawing long breaths, that I might taste +its full relish, as a connoisseur passes an exquisite and rare wine +over his palate, that he may discriminate its subtleties. I became a +lounger, and took the pavement with the air of a gentleman at ease. I +wandered into Hyde Park, paid my penny for a seat, and sat down almost +dizzy with the unaccustomed thought that there was not a human being in +the universe who, at that moment, had the smallest claim to make upon +my time or energy. An hour passed in a kind of ecstatic dream. It +chanced to be a morning when Queen Victoria was driving from Paddington +to Buckingham Palace, and every instant the throng of carriages +increased. Standing on my seat, I saw an immense lane of people, +silent as a wood; a contagious shiver stirred them, like a gust of wind +amongst the leaves; I saw the distant glitter of helmets and cuirasses, +and the pageant swept along with that one tired, kindly, homely face +for its centre of attraction, luring loyalty even from a heart so +republican as mine by its air of patient weariness. I thought, and I +believed the thought sincere, that I would not have exchanged places +with her who was the mistress of so many peoples, the Empress of such +indeterminable Empire. My new-born loyalty was three-parts pity. Had +she, who sat there in such 'lonely splendour,' ever known the day, +since as a young girl the heavy rod of empire was intrusted to her +frail and unaccustomed hands, when she woke to say, 'This day I am +free, I will go where I will, do as I please, and none shall stay me?' +Yet I, a manumitted clerk, had come upon this singular and glad day; +and I had it in my heart to say with Emerson, 'Give me health and a +day, and I will make the pomp of empire ridiculous.' + +I turned slowly homeward in this glow of exultation. I should have +run, for the news, either good or evil, called for instant +communication. Let my delay stand excused; I had certain matters to be +settled with myself that morning. My feet had to learn a new kind of +movement, and my thoughts a new sequence; I was as a child learning to +walk and think before I could take my place on equal terms with new +companions. One incident of my walk struck me by way of humour and +discovery. I had often strolled into bookshops toward evening, and had +remarked upon the cold discourtesy with which my presence was regarded. +Now I knew the reason; I had come at the clerk's hour, and the keen +eyes of discriminating shopmen had recognised my low estate. I came +now under altered auspices. To shop at three in the afternoon is to +give proof of leisure; behold, in the eyes of obsequious shopmen I had +at once become a wealthy dilettante, nurturing the growth of an +expensive library, and the rarest books were laid before me with an +ingratiating smile. Let the man who would understand how much the +estimates men take of us are based on wealth, or supposed wealth, make +the brief experiment of shopping at the rich man's hour, instead of at +the poor man's; he will be surprised to note the difference of the +social atmosphere. A man's clothes may be poor enough, and his +appearance contemptible, but if he will shop at the hour when all the +drudges are at work, no one will take him for a drudge. I will confess +it gave me pleasure to note this change of estimate. I seemed to taste +the first privilege of a freeman, when a pursy bookseller took from a +glass case certain expensive books on Art, and drew my attention, with +subtle deference to my judgment, to the merits of the pictures they +contained. I may as well confess at once, that so intoxicated was I +with the new respect that greeted me, that I even bought one of these +volumes, which I did not need, and certainly could not afford. It was +a weakness and a folly, no doubt; but how could I tell my obsequious +friend that I paid my guinea not for anything he sold me, but as a sort +of first footing on my entrance to the realm of freedom? I might have +spent it much worse, for I bought my self-respect with it. + +The sight of my doorstep brought me to my bearings, for a man's own +doorstep is a rare corrective of disordered fancies. The fact I had to +communicate was briefly this; That I had lost 250 pounds per annum, +against which I had 50 pounds to show by way of compensation. Women, I +have long noticed--or women of the best kind, I ought to add--have much +more genius in finance than men. They have a much keener sense of the +use of money; an excellent thing in women when it does not deteriorate +into cheese-paring and sordid parsimony. They, being primitive and +unsophisticated creatures, are unacquainted with the lax morals of the +cheque-book; a pound is just twenty shillings to them, and each +shilling is an entity, and each is spent with an indomitable aim to get +the most out of it. How would my wife regard the definite +disappearance of five thousand shillings? Not with levity, I knew; and +I thought it best to say nothing of that guinea volume on the _Tombs of +the Etruscans_. The _Tombs of the Etruscans_ would have meant to her +three pairs of boots; and I wished that I might conceal it in mine. A +wise bishop once argued that marriage was ordained not for man's +pleasure, but his discipline; I believe that he was not far wrong. It +is no use disputing the fact that the married man is always in danger +of the judgment; and it is only by some form of bribery that he can +hope to escape being cast in damages. I resolved on bribery, and made +my cheque the bribe. Here said I, was present wealth, let us be +content. The plea was not received with instant favour, but it was not +wholly ineffectual. By the time we sat down to supper that night we +had all attained to cheerfulness. It was a meal of some tenuity, not +calculated to lie heavy on the stomach; for, said Charlotte, 'If we +have to begin high thinking and plain living, we can't begin too +early.' The only load on my digestion that night was the _Tombs of the +Etruscans_. + +It says much for the steadfastness of our convictions, that in this new +crisis of affairs the old resolution to seek a country life passed +unquestioned. What to another had seemed calamity appeared to us +opportunity. When the daily paper came next morning, it was not to the +columns where commerce chronicles its wants that my eye turned, but to +the much more engaging columns where lands and houses were advertised +for sale. This part of the newspaper had long ago attracted me by its +fine air of surreptitious romance. My mind had often been kept aglow +for a whole day by some seductive advertisement of cottages 'situate +amid pine-woods,' or farmhouses, all complete, even to the styes and +kennels, which by all accounts were to be given away. One such +advertisement I particularly remember for a kind of insane generosity +which pervaded it. It described at length a farmhouse, 'stone-built +and covered with ivy' (observe the very definite sense of the +picturesque conveyed in this phrase), containing ten rooms, commanding +pleasant views of a well-wooded country, together with a large orchard, +and one hundred and fifty acres of freehold land, the whole of which +might be purchased for 750 pounds; and, added the advertiser, 'the +furniture at present in the house is included in the price.' I do not +know where this terrestrial Paradise existed; I believe it was in +Essex; but I often regretted that I made no effort to discover it. + +However, the morning paper, if it contained no paragraph comparable +with this in point of style and seduction, certainly did appear +singularly rich in Paradises. Philanthropists, disguised as +land-agents, contended eagerly with one another through many columns of +advertisements, offering a reluctant world all the advantages of rural +happiness on what appeared merely nominal terms. It appeared that they +did not even want the money, which they mentioned only in a kind of +gentlemanly whisper; pay them but 100 pounds in sound cash, and the +rest might stand at mortgage upon easy terms for an indefinite period! +One might have imagined that the whole of rural England was +depopulated; that Eden itself had been cut up into building lots; that, +in fact, the land-agent was subsidised by a paternal government to +persuade the townsman to turn landed proprietor on terms which even the +squatter in new lands would regard as generous. + +The reality I soon found to be entirely different. The moment I set +about the deliberate business of finding a cottage I made a series of +surprising discoveries which I will now relate. + +In the first place, I found that many of these much vaunted farmhouses +were situated in districts utterly destitute of beauty, and even +desolate. One specimen may stand for the whole. I omit the +particulars of the advertisement, which was drawn up in the usual +style; but I must say, in justice to its author, that when I +interviewed him in his city office he did what he could to discourage +too abundant hope. He did not go the length of admitting his +description false, but he told me drily that 'I had better see the +thing for myself.' An hour's journey found me on the Essex flats. +There was a bright sky and a brisk wind, but nothing could disguise the +featureless monotony of the far-stretched landscape. The train put me +down at a roadside station where a dogcart waited my arrival. I drove +through a small village of mean, red-brick houses, and soon found +myself in the open country. My driver made but one remark during the +four-mile journey. + +'You be come to see Dawes' farm?' he said. + +I admitted the fact. + +'There's a-many has come,' he replied. 'You be the twenty-first I have +drove. An' they all be uncommon glad to get away agen.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'You'll soon find out.' + +With that he lit his pipe and smoked stolidly. I was not long in +comprehending the reason of his reticence. Dawes' farm may once have +been a comfortable residence, but when I saw it it was a mildewed, +rat-haunted ruin. It stood upon a piece of redeemed marsh-land, and +the salt damp of the marsh had eaten into its very vitals. The +wainscots were discoloured, the walls oozed, and part of the roof was +broken. There had once been a garden; that, like the rest, was a ruin. +The land was there no doubt, fifty acres said the advertisement, but it +was treeless, bleak, flat, covered with coarse grass, and cut up by +muddy watercourses. To have lived in the house at all it must have +been rebuilt, and even then nothing could have made it a cheerful place +of residence. There was no water-supply that I could discover, unless +half a dozen butts that took the drippings of the roof represented it. +The orchard had long ago gone back to barbarism. It appeared that the +place had been deserted for half a dozen years. I did not wonder. The +only wonder was that it had ever been inhabited. + +'Ah,' repeated my driver, 'there's a-many as comes an' looks, an' they +all be uncommon glad to get away agen.' + +I subscribed to the common sentiment. Never did that infinite diapason +which we call the roar of London sound so sweet, never did those long, +lighted, busy streets seem so habitable, as on that night when I +returned from my casual inspection of Dawes' farm. + +The memory of Dawes' farm taught me that if I was to live in the +country some charm of outlook was indispensable to my content. +Mountains, a lake, a wood, a running river--some delicate effect of +scenery, some concourse of elements, either in themselves or in their +combination beautiful--these I must have if I would be happy. They +were as necessary to me as my daily bread. But here I made a second +disquieting discovery; there was not a part of England which could be +justly described as beautiful that was not already occupied in the +degree of its accessibility. I thought of Surrey; I visited it and +found myself in a superior Cockney Paradise. Half a dozen men of +genius had in an inadvertent moment advertised the pure air of the +Surrey highlands, and by the time I came upon the scene trim villas had +sprung up by hundreds, and wealth was already in possession. The +merest cottage in this favoured district provoked keen contest in the +auction-room. Indeed, in the true sense, there were no cottages; they +had been transformed, added to, rebuilt, till only a remnant of their +primitive rusticity remained. It was the same everywhere. I was too +late by twenty years in this kind of quest. + +I had been led to believe by various social writers that the villages +of England were depopulated. According to these fallacious chroniclers +the country abounded in cottages and even small manor-houses from which +the inhabitants had fled. I can only say I never found it so. A +deserted roadside cottage I often found, but there were obvious reasons +for its desolation. Sometimes it was so far from other houses, or any +centre of congregated life, that it must have been difficult, and +almost impossible, for any one residing in it to obtain the common +necessaries of life. More commonly it was deserted because it was +falling into ruin. But no sooner did I reach a real village than I +found every house in occupation. The usual complaint was lack of +accommodation. Hence rents were by no means low, and the contest for +houses was vehement. If the village had real beauties of its own--a +cluster of thatched and dormer-windowed cottages, properties valuable +to the artist--one was sure to come upon immediate evidence of the +cockney invasion. What I thought a barn would as like as not prove a +studio, and it was no farmer who lived at the pleasant, yellow-washed +farmhouse amid the rose-garden, but 'a gentleman from London.' And we +had but to go a little way down some shady lane to find a glaring board +announcing building land for lease, and from some local agent one +obtained particulars of the exact kind of house which the investor +would be permitted to build upon the site. + +It will be said that this was not the country proper, nor was it, for +London has annexed every place within fifty miles of Charing Cross. +But in the country proper a new difficulty met me: not only were there +no empty cottages, but landowners stuck to their acres with such +jealous obstinacy that they refused to sell a rood of land for a +cottage on any terms whatever. I will give one example, which may be +taken as typical. There was a Welsh valley where I had once spent a +summer holiday, exquisitely retired and beautiful--a dozen miles from +the nearest railway. Beyond the green strath, with its few white +cottages and farms, rose on every side the wide hills, with Snowdon +towering over all like a dome. The hillside land had but a prairie +value. It had never been cultivated. A few sheep strayed over it; but +for months together no human foot trod its heather, or wandered by its +vociferous cascades. One would have supposed that had any one offered +to build a house on these solitary hillsides, the owner of the land +would have been only too glad to have fostered a folly that would have +proved remunerative to himself. On the contrary, the two great +landowners of the district stuck to every inch of soil as if it had +been sown with gold. The land was quite useless, as I have said. It +might have been worth three pounds an acre--yet they refused fifty. +They would not even let on lease. Nor could it be pretended that the +scenery would have lost any element of its charm by a cottage that +would have been scarcely observed on those vast slopes of Snowdon. +Jealous obstinacy, the desire to keep intact their own, the desire to +keep out all intruders--this was the temper of the landowners. They +did all they could to harass their existing tenants. A tenant whose +family had increased so that his cottage was as overcrowded as a +tenement in Spitalfields, had to plead long before he was allowed to +add a couple of rooms to his cottage, even when he did so at his own +expense. Often enough he was refused so harshly, that he was +constrained to seek a house in some other district. Yet, in all that +valley, which was five miles long by two in breadth, there were not two +hundred houses; and there rose around them the unpopulated hillside, +where a host of people might have lived in health, and where, indeed, +men had once lived, as was witnessed by the roofless gables which here +and there rose among the heather. + +It seems to me that in this state of things there is a monstrous +injustice. There is no law to compel these gentlemen to sell land, and +there is no public sentiment that can affect them. They are the +complete despots of the countryside. If a man does not like their +domination, he leaves the district; he knows that it is vain to resist +it. In this way many rural districts are depopulated, or kept +under-populated, simply to gratify the selfish temper of a great +proprietor. It is not as though he lived in the district, and wished +to keep its beauties secret to himself; often enough he visits it so +rarely that his face is not known among his tenants. No; but he must +have everything to himself; he must round off his estate; he must look +from his park on nothing which is not his; for your rural Ahab could +not sleep with a Naboth's little vineyard even a mile away. It is +useless to tell him that the land you want is waste natural land, on +which you propose to confer value; he prefers that it shall be +valueless, rather than that it shall be yours. Before population can +be re-distributed to the advantage of town and country alike, this +difficulty must be overcome. It can only be overcome by drastic +legislation. Compulsory purchase, regulated by an equitable land +court, is the only remedy; and it is hard that Irishmen should have, +and grumble over, privileges which their English brethren would receive +with open arms. + +Such were some of the discoveries which I made when I came to the real +business of finding a humble country residence. In my ignorance and +inexperience it had seemed the easiest thing in the world. After a +fortnight of experiment I began to think it was the hardest. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +I FIND MY COTTAGE + +In the meantime a circumstance had occurred which was of great +importance to me. Some enterprising spirits had started a new weekly +local paper, and--_mirabile dictu_--they actually contemplated a +literary page! With a faith in suburban culture, so unprecedented as +to be almost sublime, these daring adventurers proposed giving their +readers reviews of books, literary gossip, and general information +about the doings of eminent writers. They offered the work to me at +the modest honorarium of two pounds a week, and were willing to give me +a three years' agreement. They were frank enough to acknowledge that +their journal was likely to die of 'superiority to its public,' long +before the three years were over; but, barring this disaster, they gave +me assurance of regular employment. This was the very thing for me. +One could write about books anywhere. I thankfully closed with the +offer and began to study the ha'-penny evening papers with assiduity, +in order to learn the craft of manufacturing biographies of living +authors. + +The greatest of all questions was thus settled: I should not starve. +But the question of a local habitation remained as difficult as ever. +I went upon wild-goose chases innumerable; was the victim of every kind +of chance hint; gathered fallacious information from garrulous +third-class passengers on many railways; confided my case to carters +and rural postmen, who played upon my innocence with genial malice; +stayed so long at village public-houses without visible motive that I +incurred the suspicion of the local constabulary, and on one memorable +occasion found myself identified with a long watched-for robber of +local hen-roosts. When I dropped upon some quaint village that, from a +pictorial point of view, seemed to offer all that I desired, I found my +tale, that I wished to settle in it, universally derided. No one could +conceive any sane person as being desirous of living in a village; the +design seemed wholly unaccountable to people who themselves would have +been only too glad to live in towns. + +That I came from London was against me, It seemed to these village +Daniels barely possible that I was honest, and quite certain that I +cloaked some base designs under an innocent inquiry for empty cottages. +The little black bag in which I carried my lunch on these excursions +was the object of extraordinary hypotheses. At one time I was believed +to be selling tracts, at another time, tea; once I was suspected of +being an itinerant anarchist, doing a brisk business in infernal +machines. Landladies, who had lavished smiles upon me when they +supposed me an ordinary pedestrian in search of the picturesque, gave +me the cold shoulder when I began to explain my genuine intentions. +They sometimes treated me with such a mixture of aversion and alarm +that it was plain they doubted not only my sincerity but my sanity. +The travelling artist they knew, the pedlar, the insurance agent, and +the cockney beanfeaster; but the stranger who desired permanent +neighbourship with them they knew not; him they treated as a lunatic at +large. If the papers had chanced to be full at this time of the doings +of some flagrant murderer flying from justice, which fortunately for me +they were not, I have little doubt that these amiable villagers would +have delivered me up to the police without scruple, and have chuckled +over their sagacity. + +The thing was amusing enough, and yet it had a certain serious +significance. It was a striking illustration of the way in which the +growth of cities had perverted even the rural mind. I had thoughts of +writing an article on _The Reluctant Villagers_, and a very good +article I could have made of it; for I found hardly any one who was a +villager by choice. A village might appear fair as Paradise to the +casual eye; but closer inspection always revealed the serpent of +discontent among the flowers. Where every outward object breathed of +rest, there was universal restlessness among the people. The common +ambition of all the younger generation was to get to London by almost +any means, and in almost any capacity. There was not a household that +had not children or relatives in London. The young ploughman went to +London as a carter or ostler; the milkmaid as a servant. The village +carpenter was invariably a middle-aged or an old man, secretly despised +by his apprentice, if he had one, for his contentment with his lot. +One saw very few young people in the village street, except mere +children. The universal complaint was that life was dull. There were +no libraries or reading-rooms; no concerts or entertainments; even the +innocuous penny-reading had died out. Nor were there cricket clubs, or +any organised system of sport, except in isolated cases. Here and +there a modern-minded clergyman had recognised the need of recreation +in his parishioners, and had done something to provide for it; but he +was an exception. Hence it happened that the public-house was the +common centre of the village life: it was the poor man's club, and it +was used less for purposes of social intercourse than for the +discussing of racing odds. + +Artists have often painted village politicians in earnest confabulation +in an oak-pannelled inn-parlour. I can only say that, so far as my +experience went, I found the village politician quite extinct. The +sort of talk I heard in village bar-rooms was inane and contemptible to +the last degree, and it never once touched on politics. Nor, as a +rule, was there any trace of that leaven of superior intelligence which +comes from a fusion of the classes. All the landlords were practically +non-resident. They knew nothing of their tenants; and that pleasant +intercourse between hall and cottage which poets and novelists depict, +rarely happened. Once a year, perhaps, and for a few weeks only, the +blinds of the Hall windows were drawn up; carriages rolled through the +park gates; young ladies, bright in Bond Street toilets, flashed like +deities upon the village street; my Lady Bountiful left a quarter of a +pound of tea at half a dozen cottages; and then the whole vision faded +like an unsubstantial pageant. The blinds were drawn down again, the +lodge-keeper went to sleep, and the monotonies of life submerged +everything like a wave. The clergyman alone remained as the symbol of +a fuller life, sometimes doing his duty with intelligence, sometimes +not; but the case was rare where any definite attempt was made to +uplift the village community by the infusion of any intellectual +interest, any sense of Art, or any care for honest sport. And here +lies the whole secret of the discontent of villages; their inhabitants +are conscious of unjust deprivations in their lot; and if they remain +villagers, it is rather from lethargy than love. + +Were I to describe all the places I visited in search of a habitation, +my list would be interminable. I have given one example in Dawes' +Farm; let me give one other, as illustrating another kind of difficulty +in my quest. + +On an exquisite morning in June I found myself climbing the long chalk +hills that lie northward of the Thames valley. At every step the air +became more pure and sparkling; and while in the hazy lowlands not a +leaf stirred, here a brisk and gusty breeze was blowing. The road ran +through high chalk banks, like a railway cutting, and I have since +found that Roman soldiers used it in the days of Caesar. At the height +of three hundred feet authentic forest scenery began. Here the elms +ceased, and enormous woods of beech took their place. The turf was of +the greenest, the solitude intense, the air exhilarating; and never had +I so admired the lace-like delicacy of foliage which distinguishes the +beech, for never had I seen it in such mass or such perfection. The +house I sought stood at fully eight hundred feet above sea-level, on a +carpet of soft turf, round which the forest rose like a wall. Never +did place look so sweetly habitable; it was a kind of green hermitage +in the woods, inimitably quiet, warmed by clearest sunlight, cooled by +freshest winds. Here, said I, at last is my much sought El Dorado; nor +did the cottage, when I came to it, belie my hopes. It was a true +woodland cottage, an intimate part and parcel of the scenery. It had +been recently inhabited by a man of letters, a poet and a dreamer; and +a fitter spot to dream in eye never rested on. + +My enthusiasm rose as I drew nearer to it, There was a warm, homely +compactness about it, as of a nest among the trees. The forest turf +came to the very gate; a young orchard of five hundred trees lay to the +southward of the house, a green paddock to the northward; and, as my +advertisement informed me, the entire price of this eligible freehold +property was five hundred pounds! Why, then, was its possessor so +eager to be quit of it? I walked round the house, went through its +rooms, took the view from various windows, already treating it as mine, +and it was long before I came upon the cause. That cause was not its +remoteness or its solitude; it was lack of water. There was no well, +and to have sunk a well would have been costly. The only water-supply +was the rain-water from the roofs. Men can laugh at a good many +deprivations, but deprivation of water is a serious business. I found +upon inquiry that the nearest spring was two miles away. In time of +drought--and in this high district summer drought was normal--it was +this or nothing. Water was then sold by the bucket, nor was it easy to +find any one to fetch and carry for you. I had no mind to condemn +myself to drink the droppings of a roof for life, nor to perform my +ablutions by the aid of a teacup and a saucer. The place, for all its +beauty, was plainly uninhabitable as the Sahara. A camel might have +lived there with content; it was no place for a family used to the +delights of tubbing. I had remarked in the owner of the house a +certain elementary lack of linen; the cause was now explained. I think +his only method of attaining cleanliness must have been by what is +called 'the dry air process.' + +This adventure lives in my memory, not only because it had delightful +elements, but because it was the last of a long series, which might +have been called more truthfully misadventures. For an exhilarating +month I scoured the neighbourhood of London, living in a happy fever of +enterprise and hope, but without result. July came, and my problem was +still unsolved. I had already given notice to terminate the tenancy +of my house in London, and there seemed a fair prospect that September +would find me homeless. At my present height of good spirits I cannot +say that even this prospect dismayed me. If the worst came to the +worst I meant to take to the road in one of those convenient vans much +used by travelling hawkers. I had long envied the extraordinary +snugness of those itinerant habitations; to be a Dr. Marigold seemed +the happiest of fates; rent free, and finally delivered from +tax-collectors and their tribe, I might yet roam the world as a +superior kind of vagrant. I knew indeed a young friend of mine who had +adopted this very life. He sold tracts and Bibles upon village greens, +and I promise you no mansion had a warmer glow of comfort than the +interior of his yellow van when the lamp was lit at night for supper. +He has since found his way to a lonely missionary station in Peru; but +he has often told me that he was never happier than when he played the +part of pious gipsy on the village greens of England. At a pinch I +thought that I could do what he had done; it was a romantic trade, and +a new _Lavengro_ might be written on it. + +But whatever dreams of permanent and dedicated vagrancy I might +entertain, manifestly my first duty was to find a cottage if I could. +At last, and almost by accident, I came on what I wanted. I had gone +to the Lake District in the month of August, and one day I struck into +a lonely road to the north-west of Buttermere. Half an hour's walk +brought me to a tiny hamlet beside a rushing stream, and here, for the +first time in all my wanderings, I found a genuine deserted cottage. +To speak by the book there were two cottages exactly similar, covered +by a single roof. They stood upon a gentle slope; a group of pines +formed a shelter from the north, the moorland rose behind them, and the +river sang through a contiguous glen. My first glance told me that +they had not long been out of occupation. They showed no marks of +dilapidation, and the little gardens, though weed-grown, gave signs of +recent care. A woman whom I met told me their history. They had long +been inhabited by two families, father and son. A few months +previously these families had sailed for Canada. No one had applied +for the cottages, for in that part work was scarce, and the foundries +and shipyards on the coast drew away the younger population. The +rent--it seemed incredible--was two shillings a week. The woman +yielded to what she thought my idle curiosity, and brought me the keys. +Each cottage contained four rooms, and the two could easily be thrown +into one. They were dry and water-tight, the walls whitewashed and +clean, the woodwork sound and well cared for. I sat down upon the +sun-warmed bank beside the gate and thought. Here was solitude indeed; +a dozen neighbours in all, simple labouring folk: + + + The silence that is in the starry sky, + The sleep that is among the lonely hills. + + +Here, too, was beauty in excess; a glen untrodden by the feet of +tourists, moorland and pine-wood, a stream that lifted up a cheerful +voice, hills and mountains of delightful form and colour, and not far +away the silver gleam of lakes. In all external features it was my +dream come true, and the deep-bosomed woman at my side, with her face +of rosy, placid health, was herself the proof of how lightly the wings +of time passed over this haunt of ancient peace. + +I suppose that no one ever approaches the realisation of his hopes +without a kind of fear. In those imaginary dramas which we invent and +rehearse perpetually in the silent theatre of our own minds, we always +take care that we get the best of the situation and the dialogue. The +dramas of real life are apt to end differently. The coveted occasion +finds us incapable; a baffling scepticism of our own powers leaves us +impotent; the part that ran so easily, with such unanimous applause, +when we were both the dramatist and the actor, suddenly bristles with a +hundred unsuspected difficulties. For the first time, as I sat on that +sunny bank, I began to ask myself whether I could really play the part +I had so long desired to play. Could I reconcile myself to seclusion +so entire? Would not this weight of utter silence grow heavier than I +could bear? It was not always June, I told myself, and there were days +of lashing rain, grey skies, and 'death-dumb autumn dripping' fog to +think of. The vision of lighted streets and bustling crowds, the warm +contiguity of numbers, the long lines of windows all aglow at evening, +the genial stir and tumult of congregated life, took masterful +possession of my mind. Could I bear to relinquish the familiar scene? +A thousand threads of use and habit bound me to it, each in itself as +light as gossamer, but the whole tough as cords of steel. I foresaw +that I had underestimated the ease of my deliverance. It would +require a strength of consistent resolution of which perhaps I was not +capable. It was but too likely that I should be one of those who put +their hand to the plough and look back, a reluctant recruit of a cause +that won my faith, but could not win my will. This would be not only +fatal to my peace, it would make me despicable in my own eyes, which is +the worst of all calamities that man can suffer. + +Such a distress of mind was natural; yet I think that behind it all my +thought was firm and clear. What I had proposed to do for twenty years +I must do, or attempt to do, if I would retain my self-respect. I +might become despicable to myself by failure in my task, but I should +be much more despicable by never trying to accomplish it. In that +half-hour of meditation the die was cast. I had come to my predestined +battlefield. I must here be triumphant or defeated; in any case I must +attempt the conflict. + +The decision restored, as by a stroke of magic, all my good spirits. I +examined my two cottages again with an eye less critical, more kindly, +more urbane. I saw with how few touches they could be transformed into +a habitation suited to my needs. With the two main rooms thrown into +one I should have a spacious living-room; the two gardens would compose +an admirable lawn; roses should grow against the walls, warm-hued +creepers frame the upper windows; it should become a lodge in Eden. +Then there was the air, the view, the company of the silent mountains +and the singing stream. Here was my theatre, my orchestra, my +concert-room. The woman who was my guide took me into her own cottage +for a cup of tea, and I was struck with its homely air of comfort. An +oak dresser, covered with blue ware such as is common in these parts, +filled one wall; an oak chest of drawers another; there was a +broad-seated oak settle by the fire; all solid, of a good design, and +polished to a deep brown by use and industry. The floor was red brick; +flowers lined the windows; and everything was clean as hands could make +it. I saw my house furnished on the same plan, and it pleased me. A +recollection crossed my mind, curious and most fantastic at such a +time, of a certain room in one of the show-houses in London, furnished +entirely in the French style. I recalled the console tables of old +gilt, the brocaded couch, and the gilded chairs which no one dared to +sit upon; and I confess that I preferred this habitable cottage-room. +There was something satisfying in its plainness; a sense of something +honest and intimately right; a suggestion of solid worth and homely +ease. My spirits had already been restored by my decision; they were +now invigorated to the point of joy, for I saw the concrete emblems, as +it were, of the beauty which is found in true simplicity. + +The next day I returned to the spot accompanied by my wife and my two +boys. We made a new and elaborate inspection of the two cottages. In +the afternoon the landlord, a neighbouring farmer, met us. He was a +dales-man born and bred, shrewd, much given to silence, but with a +plenitude of genial good sense. He began by being somewhat suspicious +of us after the usual country fashion. When he at last understood the +sincerity and novelty of our intentions, he treated us with a kind of +fatherly derision, which had no hint of impoliteness or impertinence in +it. 'It will na do, I'm thinking,' he said, several times. When he +saw us persistent, and that our persistence grew in the ratio of his +dissuasion, he said, just as though he were talking to wayward +children, 'Well, a wilful man maun have his way. As for my bit of +cottages, ye're welcome to them, an' I'll ask no rent till ye've been +in them long enough to know your own minds better. They're of no worth +to me, an' I'll be your debtor for living in them. If ye want to pull +them aboot, ye'll do it at your own expense, I'm willing. Later on, if +ye care to stay, you and me'll fix a rent, an' I gie ye ma word it +shall na be more than ten pund a year. I'll help ye too if ye'll let +me. I can find ye a man as 'll do all the little jobs you want done, +an' glad to do it. As for fishing, the stream's yours, an' I would na +say but what ye might get some shooting too. But ye'll tire of it, +ye'll tire of it,' he concluded, with a grave smile. + +With that he handed us the keys. He then shook our hands with the +melancholy air of a man who says farewell to friends embarked upon a +perilous adventure, and strode away across the heather, stopping once +to wave his hand to us as if in wise dissuasion. + +So Mahomet might have stood above Damascus when he said, 'My Paradise +is not there,' and yet Damascus was a Paradise all the same. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BUYING HAPPINESS + +We are all children, and in nothing so much perhaps as in the kind of +delight we take in any form of building. The architectural efforts of +a child with a box of bricks or a heap of sand explain the Tower of +Babel, the Pyramids, and the Golden House of Nero. House-building +unites the ideal with the real more thoroughly than any other human +employment. What can there be more delightful than to see that which +you have dreamed grow into tangible and enduring form? No wonder the +rich man builds himself 'a lordly pleasure-house'; it is a kind of +practical poetry which he can understand. Were there only millionaires +enough to go round all architects would be wealthy, for building is a +kind of material art admirably suited to men of material intelligence. + +The weeks which followed the acquisition of my two deserted cottages +were the most delightful I have ever spent. First of all, there was +the question of structural alterations to be considered. In my opinion +the living-room of the house is the chief consideration. It should be +a _room to live in_, the focus of the whole life of the household. For +this reason it should be large and airy, covering the whole site of the +house as nearly as possible. One large room is infinitely to be +preferred to two or three small rooms; it is healthier, and much more +cheerful. Space and air are most needed in the room which is most in +use. It is of no consequence that the bedrooms should be small; one's +active hours are not spent in them, and a window left wide open summer +and winter will provide an ample supply of oxygen in the smallest +chamber. What can be more absurd than the arrangement of a modern +London villa? It is usually cut up by partition walls into a number of +small rooms, not more than one of which is in constant use. Pretension +takes the place of comfort. Mrs. Grundy must have a 'drawing-room' or +die! It is a kind of holiest of holies, too beautiful for normal +occupation, full of gimcrack chairs that cannot be sat upon, and +decorative futilities which give it the aspect of a miscellaneous stall +at a 'rummage sale.' Such a room is very well as a _with_drawing-room, +its proper use; but as a room into which no one withdraws it is absurd. +As I expected to keep no company, and needed no room into which to +withdraw, I was able to get rid of this apartment. Moreover, in a very +small house, common sense demanded that every room should be really and +thoroughly used. + +Fortunately the fireplaces of my two cottages were against the outer or +gable ends, and not against the partition wall, as is commonly the +case. I had only to remove this partition wall, supporting the ceiling +by a strong beam, and I had a room about twenty-four long by fifteen in +breadth. At the back of this room were two small kitchens, only one of +which was needed. By widening the doorway leading to one of them to +double its breadth, I gained another room about ten feet square. This +made my library, by which I mean not a room in which I ever sat, but a +room entirely devoted to the housing of my books. I had the walls +entirely lined with books, making and staining the bookshelves with my +own hands. Across the widened doorway from which the door had been +removed hung a warm curtain, so that it was to all intents and purposes +a part of my living-room. I took infinite and almost childish delight +in the arrangement of this living-room. I had brought not a single +article of domestic furniture with me from London. Such furniture as I +had--chairs, tables, couch, sideboard, and so forth--would have looked +out of place in the country, and moreover it was better economy to sell +them. I sold them very well in a London auction-room, getting almost +as much as they cost me. With the money thus received in my pocket I +went to a neighbouring market town where there happened to be a shop +that dealt in old furniture. For less than ten pounds I bought an +excellent oaken gate-table, half a dozen serviceable oak chairs, a +couple of fine carved chests, and a corner cupboard. My oak dresser +and settle, each good specimens of serviceable cottage furniture, cost +me thirty-seven shillings at a country auction. I found that even at +these modest prices I had paid too much. Oaken furniture was common in +these parts, and had little value. When a church was restored, or an +old house re-constructed, large quantities of old oak were literally +thrown away. Thus, at a merely nominal expense I acquired enough +carved oak to fit together into a handsome fireplace, and later on the +pews of a church came in for oak panelling. + +Let me now picture my living-room as it was about four months after I +took possession. It was entirely oak panelled to a height of nine +feet, above which about a foot of white-washed wall showed, forming a +plain frieze. The fireplace at one end of the room was built in with +carved oak; what had been the corresponding fireplace at the other end +of the room was turned into a cupboard, with plain oak doors. The room +had three old-fashioned leaded windows opening outward. Two were +original, one had been added--the centre window taking the place of the +gap left by the destroyed partition wall. My oak chests, dresser and +cupboard, constituted the furniture of the room. The library, +curtained off with a plain curtain of crimson plush, adjoined; the +kitchen door opened at the east corner of the room. The windows faced +due south. The room therefore was always sunny. The floor-boards were +stained, and covered by two or three cheap rugs. Flowers were at the +windows, a vase of flowers always on the table. The fireplace was +open, for I had removed the ugly modern grate, substituting for it a +low hearth of red brick with iron dogs, on which wood could be burned. +This room, with the adjoining library, was the great feature of my +little house. + +The other rooms in the house required no alteration; fresh whitewash +and wall-papers soon transformed them; and although they were small, +they were not devoid of charm. When my scheme of adaptation was +complete I found myself possessed of a house containing one beautiful +living-room, a small library, a kitchen, and four good bedrooms. My +bill for labour, including the mason's work in the removal of the +partition wall, the building of a new window, and the laying of a fresh +hearth; the carpenter's work in fitting my oak, and various minor +repairs, amounted in all to about twelve pounds. The cost of my +furniture, including the oak panelling in the living-room, and all that +was needed for the bedrooms, was about fifty pounds, against which I +had to set thirty-eight pounds, received from the sale of my +superfluous effects in London. If I added to these sums the general +expenses of removal, the carriage and cartage of my goods, and so +forth, which I reckoned at ten pounds, I found that the cost of my +exodus and new tenancy had been as follows:-- + + + L. s. d. + By expenses of removal . . . . . . 10 0 0 + By alterations and labour . . . . . 12 0 0 + By cost of furniture for living-room + and four bedrooms . . . . . . . . 50 0 0 + ----------- + L72 0 0 + Against which, by sale of goods in + London . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 0 0 + ----------- + Leaving total outlay of . . . . . . L34 0 0 + ----------- + + +I am conscious that to a townsman, accustomed to the wastefulness of +towns, some parts of this account must appear incredible. Take, for +instance, the bill for labour. No one has ever lived in London without +having occasion to complain of the dearness and badness of labour. The +chief object of the town artisan is to do as little work as possible. +He is absolutely without conscience in his work, and all that he does +is slovenly. He surveys a job, and meditates upon it for an hour--at +your expense; begins it, and goes away to fetch a tool that he has +forgotten--the time of his absence being duly charged against you; +procrastinates and dawdles; sits down to read the paper, if no one +watches him; and in one way and another takes quite twice as long over +a job as is needed, and then does it badly. When I first became a +householder in London I naturally sent to some neighbouring employer of +labour for any little jobs of carpentering and plumbing that needed to +be done. I soon had to relinquish the practice. If a new latch were +put upon a window, the screws were driven into the old holes, so that +in a week the latch was off again. If the plumber effected one repair +he invariably left some damage that made it necessary to recall him +before the month was out. There are houses in London which must be as +good as an annuity to local tradesmen; I believe the workmen are +instructed to do their work so badly that it is never really done. I +soon found it wise to learn how to do repairs for myself; and it was by +doing them myself that I discovered how I had been victimised by the +rapacity, dishonesty, and inefficiency of the British workman and his +master. + +But in the country things are different. The village workman has +honest pride in his reputation, and in his work. Moreover, he can turn +his hand to anything, he does not grudge his time, and he is not +corrupted by the contiguity of the public-house. The man who did my +masonry work for me was a grey-haired, silent, pertinacious fellow, of +great practical intelligence and efficiency. He did not work rapidly, +but all that he did was thoroughly done. The carpenter was a man of +the same type. He took a genuine delight in fitting my oak to its new +uses, and had ideas of his own, which were often ingenious, and always +practical. He even had a true artistic sense; uncultivated for want of +education, but real. I understood the extraordinary skill of mediaeval +craftsmen through my association with this man. The pieces of +exquisite carved oak which find their way into museums to-day were +wrought by men such as he was; quiet, thoughtful men, residing in +villages, who developed their artistic sense in solitude. I am quite +sure that this man thought a great deal more of his work than of the +money he earned by it. At all events he charged me astonishingly +little. He refused a contract, evidently regarding it as implying +suspicions of his honesty. 'I'll charge ye what's fair,' he said, 'and +you and me'll not quarrel as to the price.' If my bill for labour was +so moderate that it seems absurd to a townsman, it was because I had to +deal with honest craftsmen, who brought not only efficiency and +handiness to their work, but a high sense of honour, and a real +intelligence and interest. + +It was in the end of August when I took my house; by the beginning of +December I had completed my work upon it. The gardens in front of the +house had been levelled, and covered with the finest mountain turf. +The walls had been colour-washed a warm yellow, and all the +window-frames painted white. For three months every hour had been +busy, and not the least blessing of my toil was that it had brought me +a degree of physical vigour such as I had never yet enjoyed. How +different were my sensations when I woke in the morning now from those +which I had known in London! In London the hour of rising had +invariably found me languid and reluctant. I woke with the sense of a +load upon me, and I dreaded the long grey day. I see now that these +sensations were not so much mental as physical. I had not mental +buoyancy simply because I was deficient in physical vitality. But at +Thornthwaite I woke eager for the day. The first sounds that greeted +me through the open window were the songs of the birds, the sea-like +diapason of the wind in the elm-trees on the lawn, and the animating +song of the river in the glen. The weather during the whole of that +autumn was extraordinarily fine. After a week of equinoctial storm in +the end of September, the weather settled into exquisite repose. Day +succeeded day, calm, bright, sunny. It was as warm as August, but with +all the tonic freshness of autumn. November, usually a month of misery +in London, was here delightful. The year died slowly, amid the pomp of +crimson leaves and bronzed bracken. For the first time I understood +that it is bliss to be alive. Like the child whom Wordsworth +celebrates, I felt my life in every limb. There was no goading of dull +powers to unwelcome tasks; energy ran free, like the mountain-stream at +my door, and the zest of life was strong in me. + +I never came downstairs into my living-room without a sense of new +delight. How beautiful, how sweetly habitable it looked in the morning +sunshine! Any one living in a city, who immediately on rising enters +the room which he has used overnight, has noticed the peculiar +staleness of the atmosphere. It is not exactly a noxious atmosphere; +there is no palpable unpleasant odour in it, but it is used up, it is +stale. He will also notice the dust which rests on everything. In a +city the daily grinding of millions of wheels over thousands of miles +of roads fills the air with an acrid, almost impalpable powder, which +finds its way even through closed windows and settles upon everything. +In my London house I could not take up a book without soiled fingers. +Even books which were protected by glass doors, and papers shut up in +drawers, did not escape this filthy powder, composed of the fine-ground +dust and excrement of the London streets. If I wiped a picture with a +white silk handkerchief, a black stain showed itself upon the +handkerchief, and this in spite of the most careful efforts to keep the +house clean. I suppose Londoners get used to dirt, as eels are said to +get used to skinning. They spend their time in washing their hands, +but with the most transient gain of cleanliness. No one knows how +filthy London is till he begins to notice how much longer +window-curtains, household draperies, and personal linen keep clean in +the country. I should not like to be called an old maid, but I confess +to an old-maidish care for cleanliness. Untidiness in books or papers +would not distress me, but dirt is a real distress; and if it be +old-maidish to fight a continual battle with dirt, to scour and polish +and dust, content with nothing less than immaculate purities of +polished surface, then I suppose I am an old maid, and I count it to +myself for righteousness. + +Amid the many miseries of cities, this no doubt is but a minor misery, +but the relief which I experienced in deliverance from it was +disproportionately great. The purity and freshness of the atmosphere, +the corresponding cleanliness of all I touched in the house, were +delightful to me, and added to my self-respect. The clean, aromatic +air passed like a ceaseless lustration through every room of the house. +The very bed-linen, bleached in the open air, had acquired the +fragrance of mountain thyme and lavender. I did not need to climb the +hill to find the pine-woods; they grew round the very table where I +ate. Four walls and a roof gave me shelter, yet I lived in the open +air all the time. + +Then there was also the silence, at first so strange as to be almost +oppressive, but later on sweeter than music. It was at early morning +and nightfall that this silence was most intense. On a still night one +could almost hear the earth move, and fancy that the stars diffused a +gentle crackling noise as of rushing flame. The fall of an acorn in a +pine wood startled the ear like an explosion. The river also was +discerned as having a definite rhythm of its own. It ran up and down a +perpetual scale, like a bird singing. What had seemed a heavy confused +sound of falling water resolved itself into regular harmonies, which +could have been written down in musical notation. At times there was +also in the air the sense of breathing. On a dark night, standing at +my door, I had the sense of a great heart that beat in the obscurity, +of a bosom that rose and fell, of a pulse as regular as a clock. I +think that the ear must have recovered a fine sensitiveness, normal to +it under normal conditions, but lost or dulled amid the deafening roar +of towns. It is scarcely an exaggeration when poets speak of hearing +the grass grow; we could hear it, no doubt, if the ear were not stunned +by more violent sounds. + +It is probable that mere increase of vitality in itself is sufficient +to account for this new delicacy of the physical senses. The senses +adapt themselves to their environment. An example of this is found in +the absence of what is called long sight among city children. Having +no extensive horizon constantly before the eye, the power of discerning +distant objects gradually decays. On the contrary a child brought up +upon the African veldt, where he is daily confronted with almost +infinite distances, acquires what seems to be an almost preternatural +sharpness of vision. It is the same with hearing. The savage can +distinguish sounds which are entirely inaudible to the civilised man. +The footfall of his enemy, the beat of a horse's hoofs, the movement of +a lion in the jungle, are heard at what appear impossible distances. I +do not seek to offer any absolute explanation of these phenomena as +regards myself, but I state the fact that in returning to a natural +life I found a remarkable quickening of my physical senses. As my eye +became accustomed to the wide moorland prospects I found myself +increasingly able to discriminate distant objects. Flowers that had +seemed to me to smell pretty much alike, now had distinct fragrances. +I knew when I woke in the morning from which direction the wind came, +by its odour; the wind from the moorland brought the scent of heather +and wild thyme, the wind from the glen the scent of water. + +It was the same with sound. Properly speaking there is no such thing +as silence in Nature. The silence, or what seems silence, is divisible +into a multitude of minute sounds. Everything in Nature is toiling and +straining at its task, the sap in the tree, the rock balanced on its +bed of clay, the grass-blade pushing and urging its way toward the sun. +And as there is no real silence, so there is no real solitude in a +world where every atom is vigorously at work. Wordsworth's conception +of Nature as a Presence becomes at once intelligible when we live close +to the heart of Nature. Had Wordsworth lived in towns his poetry could +never have been written, nor can its central conception of Nature as a +Presence be understood by the townsman. I had often enough read the +wonderful lines-- + + + And I have felt + A presence that disturbs me with the joy + Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime + Of something far more deeply interfused, + Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, + And the round ocean, and the living air, + And the blue sky, and in the mind of man + _A motion and a spirit_, that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things. + + +But I never really understood them till I lived among scenes similar to +those in which they were composed. And the organ by which they were +interpreted was not the mind so much as the senses, quickened and +invigorated by solitude. I presented a more sensitive surface to +Nature, and the instant result was the perception of Nature as of +something alive. In the silence of the night, as I stood at my door, I +felt the palpitation of a real life around me; the sense, as I have +said, of a breathing movement, of pulsation, of a beating heart, and +then I knew that Wordsworth wrote with strict scientific accuracy, and +not with vague mysticism as is commonly supposed, when he described +Nature as a living Presence. + +The sum of these sensations was for me a state of physical beatitude. +I was often reminded of the grim confession of the poor wastrel, who, +when asked where he lived, replied, 'I don't live, I linger.' I had +never really lived; I had lingered. I had trodden the path of the days +and years with reluctant feet. Now every daybreak was a new occasion +of joy to me. I was rejuvenated not only in mind, but in the very core +and marrow of my body. I had put myself in right relation to Nature; I +had established contact, as electricians would say; and as a +consequence all the electric current of Nature flowed through me, +vitalising and quickening me in every nerve. Men who live in cities +are but half alive. They mistake infinite contortion for life. Life +consists in the efficient activity of every part of us, each part +equally efficient, and moving in a perfect rhythm. For the first time, +since I had been conscious of myself, I realised this entire efficiency. + +Many times I had coveted what is called 'rude health,' but I had been +led to believe that rude health implies lack of sensitiveness. I now +found the reverse to be the case. Perfect health and perfect +sensitiveness are the same thing. I felt, enjoyed, and received +sensations more acutely simply because my health was perfect. It may +be said that the sensations afforded by such a life as mine were not +upon a grand scale. They were not to be compared with the acute and +poignant sensations afforded--perhaps I should say inflicted--by a +city. I can only say they were enough for me. All pleasures are +relative, and the simplest pleasure is capable of affording as great +delight as the rarest. The sight of a flower can produce as keen a +pleasure as a Coronation pageant, and the song of a bird may become to +the sensitive ear as fine a music as a sonata by Beethoven. May I not +also say that the simplest pleasures are the most enduring, the +commonest delights are the most invigorating, the form of happiness +which is the most easily available is the best? The further we stray +from Nature the harder are we to please, and he knows the truest +pleasure who can find it in the simplest forms. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOW WE LIVED + +The most common objection to country life is what is called its +dulness. When I used to suggest to my town acquaintances the +advantages of a holiday in purely rustic scenes, I was always met by +the remark: 'Oh, there would be nothing to do there!' No doubt if a +holiday is devoted to lounging, it is much more difficult to lounge at +a solitary farm than at some crowded seaside resort. But my holidays +in the country had never been of this description. I am +constitutionally unfitted for a lounger. I like to have my days +planned out, and to live them fully. A country holiday for me had +always meant incessant occupation of one kind or another, fishing, +climbing, boating, long cycling excursions, and an industrious +endeavour to explore all scenes of interest within a reasonable +compass. Now that I had come to live in the country, I felt more than +ever the need of incessant occupation, for I fully realised that the +worst enemy of human happiness is ennui. + +During the first three months, while I was busy in getting settled, +there was no danger of ennui. I was constantly interested, and I was +constantly at work. I learned how to do carpentering and joiner's jobs +with a fair proficiency; I dug nearly an acre of land at the back of my +house with my own spade; made paths, and planted fruit trees; all the +turf for my lawn I laid myself, with a few hours' assistance from a +farm-hand; and there was no night when I did not go to bed with aching +muscles and often with bruised hands. If my bill for labour was +absurdly moderate, it was partly because I did so much myself. + +For instance, I employed no one to hang papers or to whitewash ceilings +or paint woodwork. With the willing help of my wife and my boys this +was done with complete satisfaction. One result of these labours was +the pride and love for our little homestead which they created. In +modern civilised life we get too many things done for us, and this is +not merely an economical but an ethical mistake. It is difficult to +feel any real pride in a home which is the creation of other people. +In a true state of civilisation no man will pay another to do what he +can do himself. Not only does he preserve his independence by such a +rule, but he creates a hundred new objects of interest for himself. +The paper which I had hung with my own labour gave me a pleasure which +a much finer paper hung by paid labour could not have given me. The +lawn which I had laid with my own hands seemed more intimately mine +than if I had paid some one else to make it. The more I reflect upon +the matter the more am I convinced that one of the great curses of +civilisation is the division of labour which makes us dependent upon +other people to a degree which destroys individual efficiency. Thrown +back upon himself as a dweller in a wilderness, any man of ordinary +capacity soon develops efficiency for kinds of work which he would +never have attempted in a city, simply because a city tempts him at +every point to delegate his own proper toil to others. I can conceive +of few things that would do more to create a genuine pride of home than +to insist that no man should possess a house except by building it for +himself, after the old primitive principle of the earliest social +communities. To build thus is to mix sentiment with the mortar, and +the house thus created is a place to which affections and memories +cling; whereas the mere tenancy of a cube of rotten bricks, thrown +together by the jerry-builder--of which we know no more than the amount +of rent which is charged for it--is incapable of nourishing any +sentiment, and is, in any case, not a home but a lodging. + +This idea is no doubt chimerical; for in a vast city, where the great +object is to escape starvation, no one has time to interest himself +deeply in the kind of house he occupies, and still less has he the +opportunity to build a house which is the expression of his own taste +and labour. But in the country the idea is not only practicable, it is +urgent. Independence is made necessary because there are fewer people +on whom we can become dependent. I soon found that if I wanted +potatoes and cabbages, I must grow them; if a pipe burst there was no +plumber to mend it, I must mend it myself; and so through a long range +of occupations, with which I had had no previous acquaintance. The +immortal Captain Davis, of the _Sea Ranger_, remarks to the incompetent +landsman Herrick, whom he has engaged as first mate on the _Farralone_, +'There ain't nothing _to_ sailoring when you come to look it in the +face,' and I am inclined to think that the observation is true of other +things besides navigation. There is nothing in ordinary gardening, +carpentering, or work about a house that any intelligent man cannot +learn in a month by giving his mind to it. Intelligence, industry, and +a deft hand will take any man of capacity through any of the ordinary +employments of life with moderate credit, or at least without disgrace. +When once the right handling of tools is learned, the rest is merely a +matter of intelligence. At all events, I had to learn how to be +proficient in the handling of many strange tools, because there was no +one within reach to handle them for me. The experience was salutary +for me in every way. It taught me to be ashamed of that kind of +inefficiency which in towns is reckoned the hall-mark of gentility. It +taught me the virtue of that independence which makes a man equal to +his own needs. It also saved me from ennui. I found myself living a +much busier life than I had ever lived. I had never worked so hard, +and yet there was not a single part of my work that did not add to my +delight. And I worked for direct results, for things I could see, and +things which I might justly claim as my own, since I had created them. + +I shall perhaps fall under the suspicion of morbid sensitiveness when I +confess that I never took my weekly wage in London without a qualm and +a compunction, for I could never make myself believe that I had really +earned it. What had I done? I had simply performed a few arithmetical +processes which any schoolboy might have done as well. My labour, such +as it was, was absorbed instantly in the commercial operations of a +great firm. I could not trace it, and I had no means of estimating its +value. The money I took for it seemed therefore to come to me by a +sort of legerdemain. That some one thought it worth while to pay me +was ostensible proof that my work was really worth something; but so +little able was I to penetrate the processes that resulted in this +judgment, so vivid was the sense of some ingenious jugglery in the +whole business, that I did not know whether I had been cheated or was a +cheat, in living by a kind of labour that cost me so little. How +different was my feeling now! At the end of an hour's spade-work, I +saw something actually done, of which I was the indisputable author. +When I laid down the saw and plane and hammer, and stretched my aching +back, I saw something growing into shape, which I myself had created. +There was no jugglery about this; there was immediate intimate relation +between cause and effect. And thence I found a kind of joy in my work, +which was new and exquisite to me. I stood upon my own feet, +self-possessed, self-respecting, efficient for my own needs, and +conscious of a definite part in the great rhythm of infinite toil which +makes the universe. It is only when a man works for himself that this +kind of joy is felt. So enamoured was I of this new joy, that had it +been possible I would have possessed nothing that was not the direct +result of my own labour. I would have liked to have spun the wool for +my own clothes, and have tanned the leather for my own boots. I would +have liked to grow the corn for my own bread, and have killed my own +meat, as the savage or the primitive settler does. In this respect the +savage or the primitive settler approaches much nearer the true ideal +of human life than the civilised man, for the true ideal is that every +man shall be efficient for his own needs, with as little dependence as +possible on others. + +Under natural conditions there is enough faculty in a man's ten fingers +to supply his own needs, and all the avocations needful to life may +meet under one hat. The familiar illustration of the number of men +required to make a pin is typical of that contemptible futility to +which what is called civilisation reduces men by mere dispersal of +labour. Such dispersal develops single faculties, but paralyses men. +It is like developing some single part of the human organism, such as a +finger-tip, to high sensitiveness, by drawing away the sensitiveness +from all the rest. To do this reduces life to barrenness; it makes it +meagre in energy and pleasure; it makes work a disease. But in such a +life as I now lived, it was not a finger-tip that worked but the whole +man. The cabbage I cut for dinner was fashioned from my own substance, +for my sweat had nourished it. The butter I ate was part of my own +energy, spent over the churn, come back to me in the freshness and +firmness of edible gold. My bread was baked in a flame kindled at my +own heart [Transcriber's note: hearth?], and it was the sweeter for it. +When I lay down at night I was quits with Nature. I had paid so much +energy into her bank, and had a right to the dividend of rest she gave +me. + +Apart from all other things, the economy of this mode of life will be +at once perceived. My expenses sank steadily month by month. I made a +good many mistakes, of course, for there is more than meets the eye in +remunerative gardening, chicken farming, and bee-keeping, as there is +in most human occupations which appear delusively simple. It took me +some time to rectify these mistakes, but before a year had passed I +found myself raising all my own garden produce, well supplied with eggs +and poultry for my own table, and able to earn a little by the sale of +my superfluous stock. Some articles, such as coal, were excessively +dear; but then, as a set-off, I could have all the wood I required for +next to nothing, and we burned more wood than coal. Groceries I +purchased in wholesale quantities from a Manchester store, so that in +spite of carriage I paid less for them than I had paid in London, and +secured the best quality. My trout rod served my breakfast table, and +my gun brought me many a dinner. In short, I found that small as was +the sum of money which I had earned, yet it was more than enough for my +needs. + +Winter is, of course, the trying time for a resident in the country. +About the beginning of December the weather broke, and there was a week +of driving rain. A fortnight of grey weather followed, and then came +three days of heavy snow. From the moment that the snow ceased winter +became delightful. No words of mine can describe the glory of these +winter days. It is only of late years that people have discovered that +Switzerland is infinitely more beautiful in winter than in summer; some +day they will discover the same truth about the Lake District. It +happened one day in midwinter that business took me as far as Keswick, +and I shall never forget the astonishment and delight of that visit. +Skiddaw was a pure snow mountain, a miniature Mont Blanc; Derwentwater +was blue as polished steel, covered with ice so clear that it was +everywhere transparent; the woods were plumed with snow, and over all +shone the sun of June, and the keen air tingled in the veins like wine. +Beside the road the drifts ran high, hollowed by the wind into a +hundred curves and cavities, and in each the reflected light made a +tapestry of delicate violet and rose. Those who imagine that snow is +only white--dead, cold white--have never seen the pure new-fallen snow, +when the stricture of the frost begins to bind it; such snow has every +colour of the rainbow in it, and where it is beaten fine it is like a +dust of diamonds. Under a hard grey sky snow appears dead white; but +under such a sun as this it glowed and sparkled with all the glories of +an ice cave. And then came the sunset, a sunset to be dreamed of. +Skiddaw was a pyramid of rosy flame; great saffron seas of light lay +over the Catbells, the immense shoulders of Borrowdale were purple, and +the lake was truly a sea of glass and fire. Nor was this a singular +and unmatched day. For a whole month the pageant of the snow lasted. +Close to my own door were glories scarcely inferior to those of +Borrowdale and Derwentwater. The glen was rich with all the fantastic +arabesque of the frost, the moor was like a frozen sea, and four miles +away lay Buttermere, ringing from morn to night with the sound of +skates. There is no greater error than to suppose winter a drear and +joyless season in the country. It has delights of its own unimagined +by the townsman, to whom winter means burst pipes and slushy streets, +and snow that is soiled even as it falls. But among mountains winter +has its own incomparable glories, and holds a pageant not inferior to +summer's. + +But even in days of rain life had its pleasures. However bad the +weather might be there were few days when we could not be abroad for +some hours, and none when the mountains had not some peculiar beauty to +reveal. At the end of a day of rain there were often splendid +half-hours, just before sunset, when the mountains glowed with richest +colour; when through the rift of thinning clouds some vast peak named +like a torch, and the mist blew out like purple banners, and the +watercourses sparkled like ropes of brilliants hung on the scarred +rocks, and the air was fresh and fragrant with all the perfume of +health. Fog we seldom had, and when it came, it rarely lasted beyond +midday. And then there were the warm delights of winter evenings, when +the wood fire blazed upon the hearth, and the gale roared against the +windows. + +I have already remarked that books read in the solitude of the country +always make a deeper impression on my mind than books read in the +uneasy leisure of towns. I found this doubly true when I came to live +in the country. I came to my books with a keener and healthier brain. +The great masters of literature resumed their sway over me; Scott, +Shakespeare, Cervantes, long-neglected, took powerful hold upon my +mind. It is not to dwellers in the town that great writers ever make +their full appeal. They are too occupied with the trivial dramas of +life among a crowd, too disturbed by the eddy and rush of the life +around them. But for the dweller in solitude these great writers erect +a theatre, which is the only theatre he knows. He is able to attend to +the drama presented to him, and to be absorbed by it. He discusses the +actors and their doings as though they were real personages. Effie +Deans and Varley, Ophelia and Don Quixote, were for us creatures whom +we knew. It was the same with later writers. Byron's poetry once more +appealed to me by its revolutionary note, Shelley was interpreted +afresh to me by these mountains which he would have loved. One +incident I recollect which may serve to illustrate this new hold which +imaginative literature took upon me. I opened one evening _Great +Expectations_, and began to read it aloud. The next morning, at five +o'clock, my two boys were contending for the book. For a month Pip sat +beside our hearth, and Joe Gargery winked at us, and 'that ass' +Pumblechook mouthed his solemn platitudes. We were continually +reminding each other never to forget 'them as brought us up by hand.' +Could any book have laid hold of us after this fashion if it had been +read in the hurried leisure of a city life? It was the very absence of +incident in our quiet lives that made these imaginary incidents +delightful. We lingered over the books we read, extracting from them +all their charm, all their wisdom, and there was more good talk, more +discriminating criticism heard in my cottage in a month than would be +heard in a London drawing-room in a year. And the explanation is +simple. We had no trivialities to talk about; none of those odds and +ends of gossip that do duty for conversation in cities; and thus such +talk as we had concerned itself with real thoughts, and the thoughts of +wise men and great writers. + +One of the principal occupations of my first winter was the education +of my boys. After the approved modern fashion I had intrusted this +task to others, upon the foolish assumption that what I paid heavily +for must needs be of some value. I discovered my delusion the moment I +came to look into the matter for myself. I found that they knew +nothing perfectly: certain things they had learned by rote, and could +recite with some exactitude, but of the reasons and principles that +underlie all real knowledge they knew nothing. I believe this to be +characteristic of almost all modern education, especially since +competitive examinations have set the pace. The brain is gorged with +crude masses of undigested fact, which it has no power to assimilate. +Fragments of knowledge are lodged in the mind, but the mind is not +taught to co-ordinate its knowledge, or, in other words, to think and +reason. The yearly examination papers of public schools and +universities afford ample and often amusing illustrations of this +condition of things. I remember an Oxford tutor, who set papers for a +certain Theological College, telling me that one year he put this +question: 'Give some account of the life of Mary, the mother of our +Lord.' This was a question which obviously required some power of +synthesis, some exercise of thought and skill in narrative. One bright +youth, after a feeble sentence or two in which the name of Mary was at +least included, went on to say, 'At this point it may not be out of +place to give a list of the kings of Israel.' Here was something he +did know, and it was something not worth knowing. I found that my boys +had been educated on much the same principle. They could do a simple +problem of mathematics after a fashion; that is, they could recite it; +but it had never once been suggested to them as an exercise of reason. +It was the same with history; they could recite dates and facts, but +they had no perception of principles. It may be imagined that I had to +go to school again myself before I could attempt to instruct them. I +had to take down again my long disused Virgil and Cicero, and work +through many a forgotten passage. At first the task was distasteful +enough, but it soon became fascinating. My love of the classics +revived. I began to read Homer and Thucydides, Tacitus and Lucretius, +for my own pleasure. It was delightful to observe what interest my +boys took in Virgil, as soon as they discovered that Virgil was not a +mere task-book, but poetry of the noblest order. By avoiding all idea +of mere unintelligent task-work, I soon got them to take a real +interest in their work, until at last they came to anticipate the hour +of these common studies. I took care also to never make the burden of +study oppressive. Two hours of real study is as much as a young boy +can bear at a time. He should rise from his task, not with an +exhausted, but with a fresh and quickened, mind. On very fine days it +was understood that no books should be opened. Such days were spent in +fishing, in mountain-climbing, or in long cycling excursions, and the +store of health laid up by these days gave new vigour to the mind when +the work of education was resumed. + +When the summer came on, life became a daily lyric of delight. By five +in the morning, sometimes by four, we were out fishing. In the narrow +part of the glen there was a place where the rocks met in a wild +miniature gorge, and through them the water poured into a large +circular rock-basin, about forty feet in diameter. This was our +bathing-pool, and the cool shock and thrill of those exquisitely pure +and flowing waters runs along my nerves still as I write. We often +spent more than an hour there in the early morning, swimming from side +to side of our natural bath, diving off a rock which rose almost in the +centre of the pool, passing to and fro under the cascade, or sitting +out in the sun, till sheer hunger drove us home to breakfast. Writers +who boast a sort of finical superiority will no doubt disdain these +barbarian delights, and wonder that memory should be persistent over +mere physical sensations. But I am not sure that these physical +sensations are not recollected with more acuteness than mental ones, +and there is no just reason why they should be despised. I have +forgotten a good many aesthetic pleasures which at the time gave me +keen delight--some phrase in oratory, some movement in concerted music, +and such like--but I never forget the sensation of wind blowing over my +bare flesh as I coasted down a long mountain road on a broiling day in +August, nor the poignant thrill of that rushing water in my morning +bathes. And mixed with it all is the aromatic scent of the pines +beside the stream, the freshness of the meadows, and the song of +falling water. Sometimes, when the river was in summer flood, there +was just that spice of danger in our bathing which gave it a memorable +piquancy. On such occasions we had to use skill and coolness to avoid +disaster; we were tossed about the boiling water like bubbles; +incredible masses of water flowed over us, warm and strong, in a few +seconds, and we came out of the roaring pool so beaten and thrashed by +the violence of the stream that every nerve quivered. Breakfast was a +great occasion after these adventures. Then came a stroll round our +small estate, and an hour or so over books. Matthew Arnold's _Thyrsis_ +was a favourite poem with us all on these mornings. It breathed the +very spirit of the life we lived, but for its sadness--this we did not +feel. But we did appreciate its wonderfully exact and beautiful +interpretation of Nature, and we had but to look around us to see the +very picture Arnold painted when he wrote: + + + Soon will the high midsummer pomps come on, + Soon will the musk carnations break and swell, + Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon, + Sweetwilliam with his homely cottage smell, + And stocks in fragrant blow: + Roses that down the alley shine afar, + And open, jasmine-muffled lattices, + And groups under the dreaming garden trees, + And the full moon, and the white evening star. + + +Such was the life we lived. If we looked back at all to the life we +had left, it was with that sort of sick horror which a prisoner may +feel who has endured and survived a long term of imprisonment. It +seemed to us that we had never really lived before. The past was a +dream, and an evil dream. We had moved in a world of bad enchantment, +like phantoms, barely conscious of ourselves. We had now recovered +proprietorship in our own lives. Work, that had been a curse, was a +blessing. Life, that had gone on maimed feet, was now virile in every +part. This mere fulness of health was in itself ample compensation for +the loss of a hundred artificial pleasures which we had once thought +necessary to existence. We knew that we had found a delight in mere +living which must remain wholly incredible to the tortured hosts that +toil in cities; and we knew also that when at last we came to lie down +with kings and conquerors in the house of sleep, we should carry with +us fairer dreams than they ever knew amid all the tumult of their +triumph. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +NEIGHBOURSHIP + +There is a wonderful passage in _Timon of Athens_ which appears to +express in a few strokes, at once broad and subtle, the picture and the +ideal of a perfect city: + + + Piety and fear, + Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, + Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. + + +The congregated life of man, many-coloured, intricate, composed of +numerous interwoven interests, was never painted with a higher skill. +The word that is most expressive in this description is +'neighbourhood.' It strikes the note of cities. Uttering it, one is +aware of the pleasant music of bustling streets, greetings in the +market-place, whispered converse in the doorways, gay meetings and +laughter, lighted squares and crowds, the touch of kind hands, evening +meals and festivals, and all the reverberation of man's social voice. +A man may grow sick for such scenes as a sailor grows sick with longing +for the sea. There were times when this sickness came on me, this +nostalgia of streets. It was only by degrees I came to see that +neighbourhood has a significance apart from cities. + +The first sensation of the man suddenly exiled from cities is a kind of +bewildering homelessness in Nature. He is confronted with a +spaciousness that knows no limit. He treads among voids. He +experiences an almost unendurable sense of infinity. He can put a +bound to nothing that he sees; it is a relief to the eye to come upon a +wall or a hedge, or any kind of object that implies dimension. There +is something awful in the glee or song of birds; it seems irrational +that with wings so slight they should dare heights so profound. All +sense of proportion seems lost. After being accustomed for many years +to think of himself as in some sense a figure of importance in the +universe, a man finds himself unimportant, insignificant, a little +creature scarce perceptible a mile away. I came once upon some human +bones lying exposed on the side of an old earthwork on the summit of a +hill; heavy rains had loosened the soil, and there lay these painful +relics in the cold eye of day. Two thousand years ago, or more, spears +had clashed upon this hillside, living men had gone to final rest amid +their blood; and it came upon me with a sense of insult how little man +and all his battles counted for in the limitless arena of the world. +The brute violence of winds and tempests had swept these hills for +centuries; and he whose lordship of the world is so loudly trumpeted, +had lain prone beneath this violence, unremembered even by his fellows. +I understood in that moment that affecting doctrine of the nothingness +of man, which coloured mediaeval thought so strangely: like the monk of +the cloister I also had before me my _memento mori_. But in truth I +did not need the bones of dead warriors to humble me; the mere space +and stillness of the world sufficed. My ear ached for some sound more +rational than the cry of blind winds, my eye for some narrower stage +than this tremendous theatre, where an army might defile unnoticed. In +such a mood the desire of neighbourship grows keen. One is cheered +even by the comradeship of his own shadow. It becomes necessary to +talk aloud merely to gain assurance that one lives. So ghost-like +appears man's march across the fields of Time, that some active +expression of physical sensation becomes imperative, in order to +recover evidence of one's physical existence; and thrice welcome, like +the violence offered to the half-drowned, is any kind of buffet which +breaks the dream, and sets the nerves tingling in the certainty of +contact with men who breathe and live. + +The easy and ostensible remedy for such a state of mind is immediate +retreat to the reassuring hum of cities: the more difficult but real +remedy is the reassurance of one's own identity. Many people take the +first course without admitting it; alleging the lack of intercourse or +convenience in country life, whereas the real truth is that contact +with the steadfast indifference of Nature has proved wounding to their +egoism. A vain man cannot maintain his sense of self-importance in the +centre of a vast moor, or amid the threatening bulk of giant hills. He +looks upon nothing that respects him. He can find nothing subservient +to him. Therefore he flies to the crowded haunts of men, and the +porter touching his hat to him for a prospective twopence at the +railway station, is the welcome confessor of his disallowed divinity. +It is, alas! the most common and humbling feature of human nature that +we all stiffen our backs with pride when the knee of some +fellow-creature is crooked in homage to us, although that homage may be +bought for twopence! No wonder that the man in whose character vanity +is the chief essence cannot long endure contact with Nature; Nature +respects no man, and laughs in the face of the strutting egoist. But +if a man will live long enough with Nature to become reconciled to her +impassivity, he begins to recover self-respect, by recovering the +conviction of his own identity. He has that within himself which +Nature has not, the faculty of consciousness. He is but a trifling +atom in the scheme of things, but he is a thinking atom. He sees also +that all living creatures have an identity of their own. Each goes +about the scheme of life in deliberate wisdom. Why should he complain +of insignificance when the bird, the flower, the horse that drags the +plough, the beaver in the stream, the spider on the wall, make no +complaint; each accomplishing its task as intently as though it were +the one task the world wanted done? In the life of the merest insect +are toils as great, and vicissitudes as tragic, as in the most heroic +human life, and to see so much is to attach a new dignity to all kinds +of life. The bird building its nest is doing precisely the same thing +as the man who builds his house, and with an equal skill of +architecture. The flower, fighting for its life, is engaged in the +same struggle as man, for whom every breath and pulse-beat is a victory +over forces that threaten his destruction. The world is full of +identities, each unmoved by the tremendous scale of its environment. +Hence a new kind of neighbourship is possible, wider and more catholic +than the neighbourship between man and man. Kinship, not in kindred, +but in universal life, becomes possible. There is no sense of +loneliness in a country life after that discovery is made. The +emptiest field is as populous as the thronged city. The Academy of +God's art opens every spring upon the gemmed hillside. The building of +a new metropolis as wonderful as London is going on beneath the thatch +where the bees toil. All that constitutes human magnificence is seen +to be but a part, and not a large part either, of a yet wider +magnificence of effort and achievement; for of the flowers of the field +we can say, 'Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of +these.' + +The fact is that civilised man moves in a much too narrow range of +affinities. He has forgotten the rock from which he was hewn, and the +hole of the pit from which he was dug. He has reduced the keyboard of +his sympathies by whole octaves. The habit of shutting up his body +within walls, has produced the corresponding habit of shutting up his +mind within walls. Hence Nature, which should be an object of delight +to him, becomes a cause of terror or repugnance. Solitude, which is +one of the most agreeable sensations of the natural man, is one of the +most painful and alarming sensations of the civilised man. The +civilised man needs to be born again that he may enter the kingdom of +Nature; for to enter either the kingdom of grace or of Nature the same +process is necessary--we must become as little children. Thoreau has +described this experience in terms which might apply equally to the +religious mystic or the Nature-lover. He tells us that for a brief +period after he came to live in the woods he felt lonesome, and +'doubted if the near neighbourhood of man was not essential to a serene +and healthy life. To be alone was something unpleasant. But I was at +the same time conscious of a slight insanity in my mood, and seemed to +foresee my recovery. In the midst of a gentle rain, while those +thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of such sweet and +beneficent society in Nature, in the very pattering of the drops, and +in every sight and sound about my house, an infinite and unaccountable +friendliness all at once like an atmosphere sustaining me, as made the +fancied advantages of human neighbourhood insignificant, and I have +never thought of them since. Every little pine-needle expanded and +swelled with sympathy, and befriended me. I was so distinctly made +aware of the presence of something kindred to me, even in scenes that +we are accustomed to call wild and dreary, and also that the nearest of +blood to me and humanest was not a person nor a villager, that I +thought no place could ever be strange to me again.' This experience +marked the rebirth of Thoreau, as truly as a new and delightful +sensitiveness to a spiritual world marked the re-birth of Bunyan. The +whole secret of re-birth lies in the recovery of lost affinities. + +I do not recollect any particular crisis such as Thoreau describes, but +I can trace the process in myself. I took no pains to cast the slough +of cities; I registered no vows and consulted no teachers; it seemed +that the thing was quietly done for me by the Higher Powers. I had no +part in the matter except to be docile. Nature took me in hand, as +sleep takes in hand the sick child; the only thing asked of me was my +submission. The result soon appeared in the altered scale of my +perceptions. I became indifferent to newspapers, to the doings and +performances of public personages, to the rise and fall of literary +reputations, and to a great many books which once interested me. I saw +that a considerable number of those whom I had counted public teachers +were no better than persons who talked in their sleep. They knew +nothing of the elemental life of man, and were unfitted to pronounce +verdicts upon his destiny. Novelists particularly offended me by their +gross ignorance of life. The pictures of life they drew were as untrue +as a description of a street-fight would be if written by a perfumed +odalisque who had never crossed the threshold of a harem. The ancient +elemental life of man, spent in storm and sunshine, under wide skies, +they had not so much as looked at, and their voluminous chatter about +man and his doings had as little relation to life as the philosophy +that is enunciated in a monkey-house. Opera-bouffe performed upon +Helvellyn would be a sorry spectacle; what was all this bedizened rout +of people playing before the footlights of cities, but a vain burlesque +at which Nature laughed? And as my sense of the importance of this +kind of spectacle gradually sank, my appreciation of the serious drama +conducted by Nature, upon a stage as old as time, whose footlights are +the changeless planets, gradually rose. I had become the neighbour of +Eternity, through neighbourship with things that are themselves +eternal. I tasted the pleasure of enlarged existence, which had become +possible through enlarged affinities. I had eaten of the Tree of Life, +which grows wherever there is a Garden brought to beauty by the sweat +of man's brow, and I had the knowledge of good and evil. + +One form of neighbourship which brought me perpetual delight was--if I +may so describe it--neighbourship with the stars. I had hitherto +scarce given a thought to astronomy, save of the vaguest kind, and all +I knew of it was derived from the recollection of one or two popular +lectures. This was pardonable in a citizen, who is never able to see +any considerable space of firmament. But when a man comes to live in +the country he can scarce remain indifferent to a pageant so sublime as +the midnight heavens. It is always with him; it obtrudes itself upon +him; it becomes in time the scenery of his life. It pleased me on +clear evenings before I slept to go out and take what I called a +star-bath, a term justified by the real sense I had of waves of soft +light and silence flowing over me, submerging and cleansing me, and +setting my soul afloat. But very soon this purely aesthetic pleasure +became also an excitement of the intellect. An immense curiosity +seized me. I desired to penetrate this lighted labyrinth of space, to +climb these shining terraces, to know where these vast roads led, in +whose profound seclusion God Himself seemed to hide. In a very humble +way I began the study of astronomy, and although I never got beyond its +elements yet my whole life was incalculably enriched by what I learned. +I sometimes felt that of all my neighbours the stars were the +friendliest and wisest. That sense of insignificance, begotten by the +pressure of immensity upon the spirit, of which so many men have +written, I never felt; my most constant feeling was a kind of gladness +which had its root in the conviction of some living friendly Power +behind and in the spectacle. The sense of insignificance, if it came +at all, was associated with the vanities of mankind. It did indeed +seem a strange thing that a man whose thoughts could walk among the +stars, should bend those thoughts to a mean eagerness for gold, a pride +in dress, or the building of palaces, which when achieved are not so +much as a single grain of dust upon an ant-hill. In a universe, whose +arithmetic employs worlds for the ciphers of its reckoning, bigness as +associated with man sounds ridiculous; and the biggest fortune or the +biggest grief are alike infinitesimal. But when the desire of bigness +passes from a man's mind, humility becomes pleasurable, and immensity +is soothing. I forgot to think of the vastness of the stars; they were +for me neighbourly and friendly presences, talking like a wise old +nurse to me of things that happened before my birth, and the ancient +kindness of Him whom a daring poet calls, 'My old neighbour--God!' + +Neighbourship with the earth also became a vital pleasure and a source +of peace. There was a time when I had a vivid horror of death; and as +I look back, and analyse my sensations, I believe this horror was in +large part the work of cities. It sprang from the constant vision of +deformity, the presence of hospitals, newspaper narratives of tragic +accidents, and the ghastly cheerfulness of metropolitan cemeteries. To +die with a window open to the trampling of a clamorous, unconcerned +street seemed a thing sordid and unendurable. To be whisked away in a +plumed hearse to a grave dug out of the debris of a hundred forgotten +graves was the climax of insult. It happened to me once to see a child +buried in what was called a common grave. It was a grave which +contained already half a dozen little coffins; it was a mere dust-bin +of mortality, and it seemed so profane a place that no lustration of +religion could give it sanctity. Dissolution met the mind there in +more than its native horror; it had the superimposed horror of +indecency and wilful outrage. But in the wide wholesome spaces of the +world, and beneath the clean stars, death seems not undesirable. A +country life gives one the pleasant sense of kinship with the earth. +It is no longer an offence to know oneself of the earth earthy. I was +so much engaged in the love and study of things whose life was brief +that the thought of death became natural. I saw constantly in flowers +and birds, and domestic creatures, the little round of life completed +and relinquished without regret. I saw also how the aged peasant +gathered up his feet and died, like a tired child falling asleep at the +close of a long day. Death is in reality no more terrible than birth; +but it is only the natural man who can so conceive it. He who lives in +constant kinship with the earth will go to his rest on the earth's +bosom without repugnance. I knew very well the place where I should be +buried; it was beneath a clean turf kept sweet by mountain winds; and +the place seemed desirable. Having come back by degrees to a life of +entire kinship with the earth, having shared the seasons and the +storms, it seemed but the final seal set upon this kinship, that I +should dissolve quietly into the elements of things, to find perhaps my +resurrection in the eternally renewed life of Nature. + +Neighbourship meant also for me kinship, with every kind of life around +me, and some friendly association with my fellow-men. The creatures we +call dumb have a sure way of talking to us, if we will overcome their +shyness and give them a chance. Moreover their habits, their method of +life, their thoughts, are in themselves profoundly interesting. I +seemed to have discovered a new universe when I first took to +bee-culture. The geometry of the heavens is not more astonishing than +the geometry of the beehive, nor is the architecture of the finest city +built by man more intricate and masterly. Here, as in all things, we +are deceived by bulk, counting a thing great merely because it is big; +but if it come to deducing an Invisible Mind in the universe from the +things that are visible, I would as soon base my argument on what goes +on in a bee's brain, as on the harmonies of law manifested in the solar +system. I believe we greatly err in underrating other forms of life +than our own. The Hindu, who acknowledges a mystic sacredness in all +forms of life, comes nearer the truth. Life for life, judged by +proportion, plan, symmetry, delicacy of design and beauty of +adjustment, man is a creature not a whit more wonderful than many forms +of life which he crushes with a careless foot. The creature we call +dumb is not dumb to its mates, and it is very likely our human modes of +communication appear as absurd to the dog or horse as theirs do to us. +We know what we think of the so-called dumb creatures; it might be a +humbling surprise if we could know what the dumb creature thinks of us. +The satire would not be upon one side, be sure of it. + +To the townsman the simple dwellers on the soil seem almost as +incapable of intercourse as the creatures of the field and pasture. +Because they do not know the kind of things the townsman knows, they +are supposed to know nothing. I have already said enough to show how +absurd and insolent is this assumption. My neighbours were few, and +simple-minded; but they possessed many kinds of skill necessary to +their life, they had wisdom and virtue, and upon the whole a kind of +fundamental dignity of nature. They were as shy as woodland creatures +to a stranger's voice; they were highly sensitive to the mere shadow of +a slight, and both suspicious and resentful of patronage; but they met +trust with trust, and where they gave their trust they gave their full +loyalty of friendship. In my youth, as I have said elsewhere, I often +passed a whole day in a forest. I would choose some solitary glade, +where my intrusion was audibly resented by the unseen creatures of the +wood, who fled before me; but when an hour had passed, and the signal +had run through the forest that I meant no harm, those scattered and +astonished creatures reassembled. The whole life of the wood then went +on before my eyes; the birds sang their best for me, the squirrel +performed his innocent gymnastics with an eye to my applause, the very +snake moved less shyly through the grass, as though the word had gone +forth that I was a guest, who must be entertained and made to feel at +home. This experience often recurred to me in my early days at +Thornthwaite. It was some time before I was admitted to the +free-masonry of the scanty social life around me; when at last I had +paid my footing I found that here also was a commonwealth; here also +might be found upon a narrow scale, but in authentic forms, + + Piety and fear, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WOUNDS OF A FRIEND + +Those who have been friendly enough to follow me so far in my little +story will scarcely push their friendship so far that they will refrain +from criticism upon myself and my doings. On one point, viz. the +social morality of my conduct, I am so sure of criticism that I will +anticipate it with self-criticism. Had I the moral right to desert the +city, and to ignore the social obligations of the city, in order to +find a life that was more pleasurable to myself? A city which presents +a depressing variety of social needs can hardly afford to spare any +good citizen, however humble, who is capable of social service, and for +such a citizen to contract himself out of his obligations is very like +skulking. I confess that this consideration occasioned me some +uneasiness, and the questions which it raised have been treated with +such admirable lucidity by a friend of mine, who still resides in +London, that I will let him put the case against me. + +The friend of whom I speak belongs to that class which may be roughly +described as Earnest Good People. With very small means, and not much +spare time at his disposal, he is nevertheless constantly engaged in +what is called the work of Social Amelioration. The problems of city +squalor, vice, and ignorance haunt him like a nightmare. When a very +young man he made a voyage of discovery among the submerged tenth; got +acquainted with tramps, night strollers, and wastrels on the Thames +Embankment; slept in doss-houses and Salvation Army shelters; tried his +hand on experimental philanthropy among the slums; and was driven +half-frantic by what he saw. He has the makings of a saint in him; of +a Francis of Assisi, of a Father Damien. He teaches in night-schools, +conducts Penny Banks, and is grateful to any one who will introduce him +to a desperate social enterprise which no one else will attempt. The +first business of life, he is fond of saying, is not to get good, but +to do good. Of pleasure, in the usual sense of the term, he knows +nothing, and would grudge the expenditure of a sixpence upon himself as +long as he knew a cadger or a decayed washerwoman who seemed to have a +better claim to it. London is for him not a home, but a battlefield, +and his spirit is the spirit of the soldier who dare not forsake his +post. + +Many years ago, when I was going for my summer holiday, he wrote me a +reproachful poem, from which I quote a part, because it is the best +index to his own character and the most lucid exposition of his own +attitude to life which I can recall: + + + The roar of the streets at their loudest + Rises and falls like a tune; + Midday in the heart of London, + Midway in the month of June. + + And blue at the end of a valley + I see the ocean gleam, + And a voice like falling water + Speaks to me thro' a dream. + + It calls, and it bids me follow; + Ah, how the worn nerves thrill + At the vision of those green pastures + And waters running still! + + But I dare not move nor follow, + For out of the quivering heat + Another vision arises + And darkens at my feet-- + + White faces worn with the fever + That crouches evermore + In the court and alley, and seizes + The poor man at his door, + + Float up in my dream and call me, + And cry, If Christ were here + He had not left us to perish + In the fever-heat of the year! + + God knows how I yearn for the mountains + And the river that runs between! + Ah, well, I can wait--and the pastures + Of heaven are always green. + + +No one will question the nobility of sentiment in these simple lines, +and they are the genuine expression of the man. In his case, however +slight may be his claim to be called a poet, that hardest test of the +poet is fulfilled:-- + + + The gods exact for song + To become what we sing. + + +It will be imagined that a man of this order would view my retreat from +London with disfavour. He thought me guilty of a kind of social +perfidy. No doubt the Earnest Good People, for whom I have the +greatest reverence, will agree in the same verdict. A letter received +during the last few days from my friend puts the case with such force, +and yet with such good-feeling, that I will transcribe a part of it. + +'I confess,' he writes, 'that the pleasures of life among the mountains +leaves me cold. It is not that I am incapable of the same kind of +pleasure, but, as you know, I have other ideas concerning the uses of +life. I cannot enjoy sunsets while men and women are starving. The +thought of all the misery of life for multitudes would, as Rossetti +puts it, "make a goblin of the sun." You used to be very eloquent +against good men who lived only for their own pleasure; are not you +yourself living in the same way? I have heard you declaim against the +gross selfishness of Goethe's aim in life--"to build the pyramid of his +own intellectual culture"; are not you, in your own way, pursuing the +same ideal? I have heard you say that nothing so belittled Goethe in +your judgment as the fact that he was destitute of patriotism; he dwelt +at ease among his books, while his country perished and felt no pang; +and you live your joyous life among the hills, and have forgotten the +Golgothas on which the poor of London endure their unpitied martyrdom. +You are doing good to yourself, no doubt; but is it not a better thing +to be doing good to others? I marvel that you can sleep at peace amid +the wailing of the world. I cannot, and I thank God I cannot. + +'What you do not seem to realise is that all our acts must be judged +not only from the personal, but from the collective standpoint. +Suppose all men followed your example, what would happen? Why, cities +would soon become the mere refuse-heaps of the unfit. The drudges +would remain, the captains of industry would be gone. There would be +no leaven of higher intelligence left, no standard of manners, nothing +that could set the rhythm of life. This is too much the case already. +The merchant, the writer, the man of wealth and culture, live as far as +they can from the struggling crowd. You would extend the process, and +make it possible for the clerk as well as the merchant. If your new +gospel of a return to Nature succeeds, we shall soon see the universal +exodus of the best intellectual and physical units of the community. +But you forget that some millions will remain behind, who cannot flee. +Have you no obligations to these? + +'Besides this, you do not seem to perceive that the ultimate drift of +the new gospel is toward anarchy. The return to nature is practically +a return to barbarism. You would have all men content so long as they +grew enough potatoes for their daily needs. You would have England +return to the conditions of the Saxon heptarchy. Each man would squat +upon his clearing in the forest, ignobly independent, brutally content. +There would be no longer that struggle for life which develops +capacity, that urging onward of the flood of life which cuts for itself +new channels, that passion for betterment which means progress. You +save yourself from the collisions of life; but it is in such collisions +that the finest fires are struck out of the heart of humanity. Again, +I say, any course of action must be judged by its collective effect +before it can be rightly understood. It is not the individual that +counts, but the race. A good for the individual is not permissible +unless it is a good also for the race. I do not admit that your new +way of life is an entire good for you, for I believe you must in time +suffer from your isolation; but even if I did admit it, I should deny +your right to it, if in its large effects it means an ill for the race. +Would you venture to say that the race would profit by it if your +example were largely imitated? I think you dare not say so much, for +you must be aware that the general desertion of cities would mean the +decay of commerce and of the arts, the arrest of progress, and national +disintegration. And if your own personal example would bear only evil +fruit were it elevated to a law of life, it stands condemned. + +'For my own part, I am where you left me. I am in the same +rooms--dull, stuffy, inconvenient--you know all about them. I breathe +quantities of bad air every day, and see a hundred things that distress +me. I go three nights a week to the room in Lucraft's Row; struggle +with the young barbarians of the slums, and am content if I see but a +few signs of order evolving themselves out of chaos. A week ago I was +knocked down by a ruffian, who came next day to apologise on the +three-fold ground that he was drunk, that he did not know it was me he +struck, and that if he had known he never would have done it. My +ruffian was very penitent. He has since signed the pledge and is my +firm friend. I chased him out of a public-house last night, and made +him come home to my lodgings with me, where I gave him coffee, and sang +songs to him. He followed all my movements with the big wistful eyes +of a dog. There were tears in those eyes when he bade me good-night. +He brushed them away with a dirty hand, and said, "I know I can keep +straight now, sir, because you are my pal, and I ain't a-going against +the wishes of my pal!" This morning he left a pineapple at the door +for me--he is a coster, and pineapples are cheap just now. I felt more +pleasure than I can say; I could have sung over my work all day, so +glad was I. My dear fellow, don't think I speak pharisaically--you +know me too well; but I do believe I got more genuine pleasure out of +my experience with this rough fellow than you will ever get out of your +sunsets. Lucraft's Row is a dull place enough, but when a ray of light +does shine into it, it brings with it more than common joy. + +'My objection to your new mode of life is that it is entirely +self-centred. There is no projection of yourself into other lives. +You are contributing nothing to the common stock of moral effort. You +are simply marooned. It alters nothing that you have marooned yourself +under conditions that please and content you. I think that if I were +marooned upon the fairest island of the Southern Seas, where I had but +to bask in the sunshine and stretch out my hand to find delightful +food, there would be still something in my lot which I should find +intolerable. I should spend my days upon the island's loftiest crag, +watching for a sail. The thought of a thousand ships not far away, +rushing round the globe, with throb of piston, crack of cordage, strain +of timber, buffeting of waves, and shouting crews, would drive me +distracted. What to me were blue skies and soft winds when I might be +sharer in this elemental strife? How should I covet, in all this +adorable and detested beauty of my solitary isle, the grey skies that +looked on human effort, the violent wind, the roaring waves, the +muscles cracking at the capstan, the strong exhilaration of peril, +effort, conflict, and the glory of hourly contiguity with death! It +was so Ulysses felt: + + + How dull it is to pause, to make an end, + To rust unburnished, not to shine in use. + + +It was so he resolved + + + To follow knowledge like a sinking star, + * * * * * + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +You will not question that the sentiment is manly. Is there not then +something that is unmanly in the opposite sentiment? Or, to be plain, +my friend, is it not lack of courage which has driven you from us, lack +of heroic temper, lack of that divine and primitive instinct which +takes a "frolic welcome" in the "thunder and the sunshine," in the +conflict and the stress of life? + +'I believe that we are bound to be the losers by any wilful separation +from our kind. This was the case with the mediaeval monks and +ascetics; they lost far more than they gained from their separation +from the common life of the people. It is the same still with very +rich folk who are able to evade the harsh conscription of life; in +evading the conscription of life they invariably deteriorate in +physical and mental fibre. I can conceive nothing more ruinous to a +young man than that he should have just enough money to make the toil +for bread unnecessary. More lives have been spoiled by competence than +by poverty; indeed, I doubt whether poverty has any effect at all upon +a strong character, except as a stimulus to exertion. Life being what +it is, we should take it as we find it: we gain nothing by going out of +our way to find an easier path. The beaten road is safest. The man +who boldly says, "Let me know the fulness of life; let me taste all +that it has to present of vicissitude, joy, sorrow, labour, struggle; +let me know all that common people endure, and endure with them; let me +be no exception to the common rule, enjoy no special privilege, ask for +no immunity from things harsh and disagreeable"--the man who thinks and +acts thus is the man who gets the best and most out of life. But you, +my friend, have simply copied the old monks in the arrangement of your +life. There is nothing novel in your action, though just now your +egoism is gratified by the sense of novelty and originality. You have +simply gone out of the world to escape the evil of the world. You have +bought yourself out of the conscription of life. You have yet to +answer me one question: are you the better for it? That question +cannot be answered in a day. Ten years hence you will be able to tell +me something about it, and I shall be much surprised if you do not then +report more of loss than gain. No man ever yet held aloof from his +kind without paying the price in narrower sympathies, a narrower brain, +and a narrower heart. The eternal spirit of Progress which works +throughout the universe never fails to punish the deserter, and the +most common punishment is atrophy. Not to submit to the process of +evolution is to fall down the long slope of degeneracy. + +'You do not need to be told that the entire history of nations confirms +this rule. The greatest nations are those which have found life most +difficult, and they have thriven on their difficulties. The soft +climate, which reduces toil to a minimum, invariably means the +enervated race. Under the harsh skies of Britain a great race has been +trained to great exploits; but what part have the islands of the South +Pacific ever played in human history? Give man a difficulty to +overcome, and he at once puts forth his strength; difficulty is his +spiritual gymnasium. Impose on him no need of exertion, and he will +rot out, just as the races of the South Pacific are rotting out. I +would measure the future of a man, or of a nation, by this simple test; +do they habitually choose the easier or the harder path for themselves? +The nation that chooses the hard path, that is not afraid of the burden +of empire, that glories in the strife for primacy and is not afraid to +pay the price of primacy in incredible exertion, in blood and +sacrifice, is the nation that shall possess the earth. And is it not +so with men? Here, again, I press home the need for considering one's +actions in their collective aspect. Your course of life is easily +imitable: would you have it imitated? There are thousands of men in +London who could readily retire into a peaceful life to-morrow, on +terms more favourable than yours. Every man possessed of a hundred +pounds a year could do it. Yet there are plenty of old men, with ample +fortunes, who never dream of doing it. They stick to their posts and +they die at them. And it is by such men that the great machinery of +social life, of commerce, of national progress is kept going. + +'You would say, perhaps, that they are simply sacrificing the finer +pleasures of life to the fanaticism of work; ah, but they are also +sacrificing them for the good of the community. If the great surgeon +or physician bolted from his duties the moment he had acquired money +enough to buy a cottage, you would say he had no right to rob mankind +of his skill and service to please himself. Have you that right? And +if the whole nation acted in this spirit, how long would the nation +hold its place of power and influence? In less than a century we +should be as the Hottentots. We should be driven out before the +advance of more energetic races, just as the Hottentots; who once +possessed Southern Europe and Egypt, have been forced back into the +African wilderness, where they live a life that is content with the +gratification of the most primitive, the most bestial, wants. It is no +excuse to say that the action of one man can have but little influence +upon the trend of life in a whole nation. The merest unit in the sum, +the cipher even, has power to change the total. The strength of wisdom +in the majority of a nation may be more than sufficient to-day to +counteract the folly of the unit; but there is always the chance that +the folly of the individual may in time prevail against the experience +of the wise, and pervert the nation. At all events, we ought to +consider such possibilities before we hold ourselves free to do as we +please in contempt of general custom. + +'Do not be angry with me when I say that to me your flight from London +appears only an illustration of that cowardice about life which is so +common to-day. Men are very much afraid of life to-day; afraid of its +responsibilities and duties; afraid of marriage and the burden of +children; and not alone for the old are there fears in the way, but +even the young men faint and grow weary. + +'I can understand Stevenson flying to the South Seas; it was part of +his prolonged duel with death. But his heart was in the Highlands, and +could he have chosen, his feet would have trodden to old age the grey +streets of Edinburgh. Your flight is altogether different. You have +no real excuse in ill-health. You have simply fallen sick with a +distaste for cities. You have had a bad dream, and you are frightened. +I love you still; I count you friend still; but I cannot call you brave. + +'O my friend, if I have said anything that sounds unfriendly, do not +believe it of me; do not doubt that I love you. I think I should not +have written thus but that in your last letter you expressed pity for +me, and that stung me, I confess. And so I retort, you see, by pitying +you, which is not admirable in me. Therefore let me say, if you care +still to please me, do not, in any further letters you may write, ever +express the least pity for me. Quite honestly I say I do not need +pity, for I am perfectly happy. In giving all the time and money I can +spare to the poor in Lucraft's Row, I have really renounced nothing; +or, if I have, I am so unconscious of sacrifice that I can only say +with Browning: + + + Renounce joy for thy fellow's sake? + That's joy beyond joy! + + +There are half a dozen ragged boys who love me: there are twenty more +who will do so in time; and there is my drunken friend with the dog's +eyes, who looks to me to save him from the pit; what more can I ask? +Fog and mire, grime and drudgery, these never trouble me, because I see +Lucraft's Row, lit with a star, waiting for me at the end of every day. +And the star is growing bigger and brighter, for it shines over a tiny +obscure Bethlehem where the Soul is getting itself born in a few humble +hearts. To be permitted to see this miracle, to assist in this +incarnation of the Soul of the People, is its own exceeding great +reward; and I may be envied, but never pitied.' + +So ran the letter of my friend, and as I transcribe it I feel anew that +it is an indictment not to be easily set aside. I must think over what +I can reply to it. It seems as though if he be right in his mode of +life I must be wrong in mine; and yet may we not both be right? Are we +not seeing life from different angles? + +Yes, I must have time for thought before I can reply to such a letter. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AM I RIGHT? + +I have given myself a week to think over the letter of my friend, and I +am now able to perceive that it is built upon a number of most +ingenious fallacies. The chief fallacy appears to be this--that he +insists that the race must always count for more than the individual, +and that the individual must fall in line and step with the average +conventions of the race at the expense of his own well-being, or be +judged a deserter and a recreant. + +It is hardly necessary to point out that no doctrine could be more +hostile to collective progress, because progress is not a collective +movement, but the movement of great individuals who drag the race after +them. I do not recollect a single human reform that has been +spontaneously generated in the heart of society itself; it has always +had its beginnings in the hearts of individuals. Thus the Reformation +is practically Martin Luther, the Evangelical revival is Wesley, the +Oxford Movement is Newman, Free Trade is Cobden, and so on through a +hundred regenerations of thought, morals, and politics. 'The world +being what it is, we must take it as we find it,' is a note of quiet +desperation. It is precisely because the Providence of History has +again and again raised up men who were incapable of taking the world as +they found it, that regenerations and reformations of society have +occurred at all. Society never moves forward except when it is goaded +by the spirit of individual genius. So far as we can trace the history +of civilisation, and thanks to modern research we have about ten +thousand years to go by, civilisation is a succession of waves, each +flowing a little higher than its predecessor, with an ebb between each. +At what point is the ebb checked, at what point does the fuller wave +begin to flow? Always with the advent of individual genius. A great +man rises who founds a dynasty; a great thinker, who publishes new +truths; a great lawgiver or statesman, who establishes a new social +system. New worlds need a Columbus, and the social Columbus is always +a man with sufficient daring to stand by original convictions. +Therefore I say that human progress is only made possible by not taking +the world as we find it; and that he is the best friend of collective +progress who is the most obedient not to collective convention, but to +individual insight. + +I observe that my friend does not live in the spirit of his own axiom: +else, why should he trouble himself over the inhabitants of Lucraft's +Row? He is certainly not taking the world as he finds it when he +devotes his hours of leisure to impart the elements of decency to +gutter-snipes, and save drunkards from the pit. He is as much an +individualist as I, only his individualism expresses itself in a +different way; which confirms my original conjecture that we may be +equally right in our own mode of life. Nor, by his own confession, +does he really sacrifice his inclinations in his mode of life; he +gratifies his sense of altruism in Lucraft's Row, and I my love of +Nature in the solitude of lonely hills. The objects which give men +pleasure may be so diverse that what is a source of joy to one man may +be an equal source of misery to another. There can be no doubt that +many of the martyrs and ascetics were honestly enamoured of pain and +whatever credit they deserve for sacrifice, they pleased themselves by +renouncing the world, as others by enjoying it; and all that can be +said on the subject is that each pleased himself in his own way. + +Thoreau's defence when he was accused of not doing good was that it did +not agree with his constitution; and although the defence sounds like a +piece of amusing cynicism, it was in reality a plea entirely just. The +common fault of the Good Earnest People, as of most people, is that +they can only conceive of doing good after a pattern which is congenial +to themselves. But their mode of doing good, while it suits themselves +admirably, may not suit every constitution, and people of a quite +different mental constitution may be quite as good as themselves, +although it is after a very different pattern. Thoreau did a vast +amount of good by showing men, in his own example, that the simplest +kind of life was compatible with the highest intellectual aims; would +he, in the long-run, have served the world half as well had he forced +himself to live amid the squalor of a New York slum? Are not we so +much the wiser and stronger by the lessons taught in the hut beside +Walden Pond, that it would be the poorest compensation for their loss +to know that Thoreau by dint of effort made himself a fairly efficient +city missionary, or pleased the pundits of a Charity Organisation +Society? Or to take a yet more forcible example of my meaning: Hood +wrote _The Song of the Shirt_, and Wordsworth _The Ode on Intimations +of Immortality_; would either have gained by an exchange of lot? The +one poem could only have been written by a man who knew 'the tragic +heart of towns,' and the other by the man who knew the tranquil heart +of Nature; but Hood, transported to Grasmere, would have written +nothing, and Wordsworth in Fleet Street is unthinkable. As it was, +Destiny took the matter in hand, and having men to work upon whose +first principle of life was to fulfil and not to violate the instincts +of their own nature, succeeded in producing two poets who served +mankind each in a way not possible to the other. + +I suspect there is a great deal of cant to be cleared out of the mind +before we can become equitable judges of what doing good really means. +I define doing good as the fulfilment of our best instincts and +faculties for the best use of mankind; but I do not expect that the +Good Earnest People will accept this definition. They would find it +much too catholic, simply because they have learned to attach a +specialised meaning to the phrase 'doing good,' which limits it to some +form of active philanthropy. If they would but allow a wider vision of +life to pass before the eye, they would see that there are many ways of +doing good besides those which satisfy their own ideals. It is a +singular thing that men find it very difficult to live lives of charity +without cherishing uncharitable tempers towards those who do not live +precisely as they themselves do. For instance, the busy +philanthropist, nobly eager to bring a little happiness into the grey +lives of the disinherited, often has the poorest opinion of artists and +novelists, who appear to him to live useless lives. But when Turner +paints a picture like the _Fighting Temeraire Towed to Her Last Berth_, +which is destined to stir generous thoughts in multitudes of hearts +long after his death: or when Scott writes novels which have increased +the sum of human happiness for a century, is not each doing good of the +rarest, highest, and most enduring kind? The fulfilment of one's best +instincts and faculties, for the best use of mankind, is not only the +completest, but also the only available form of philanthropy. Since +Nature has chosen to endow us with diverse faculties, our service of +mankind must be diverse too. In a word, doing good is a much larger +business than the ordinary philanthropist imagines; it has many +branches and a thousand forms; and they are not always doing the most +who seem the busiest, nor do those accomplish most in the alleviation +of human misery whose contact with it is the closest. + +During the last year of my life in London I came into contact with a +brilliant young Oxford man, who had manifest talents for oratory, +leadership, and literature. He was in search of a career, and being a +youth of quick sympathies and very generous instincts, he was soon +caught in the tide of a certain social movement, whose chief aim was to +induce persons of culture to live among the very poorest of the poor. +The leader of this movement was a man of beautifully unselfish temper, +but of no striking intellectual gifts; apart from a certain originality +of character, which was the fruit of this unselfish temper, he was +quite commonplace in mind, and could have aspired to no higher rank in +life than an honourable place among the inferior clergy. He attracted +this brilliant youth, however; a youth who had been president of the +Oxford Union, and had taken a double first in classics, for whom +distinction in life seemed inevitable. The end was that his convert +joined what was really a lay order of social and religious service. He +lived among the slums of Holborn, devoted himself to the instruction of +the children of the gutter, kept the accounts of coal and blanket +clubs, and accepted cheerfully all the drudgery of philanthropy among +the poor. Most people, I am quite aware, will say that this is a very +noble example of renunciation; so it is, and as such I can admire it. +But is there nothing else to be considered? May not the sociologist +ask whether a man is serving society in the best way by refusing to use +his best gifts in the only direction in which they could have full +play? For many years this youth had trained himself for a particular +part in life which few could fill; he might have influenced the +councils of his nation by his powers of debate, the mind of his nation +by his gift of literature; he should have stood before kings and spoken +to scholars; yet all these high utilities were extinguished in order +that he might do something which a man with only a tenth part of his +gifts might have done quite as well. Think of the picture; a scholar +who never opens a book, an orator who addresses only costers and +work-girls, a writer who writes nothing, a leader of men who exerts no +public influence; and what is this wilful destruction of high faculties +but social waste and robbery? No doubt he is doing good; but would not +the good he might have done have been far wider, had he followed the +line of his natural gifts, and occupied the place in life for which +those gifts obviously fitted him? + +This story is a pertinent example of the cant of Doing Good. By all +means let those live among the poor and work for their betterment who +have a distinct vocation for the task; but it is not a vocation for +all. I object to the spectacle of a late president of the Oxford Union +giving up his life to the management of coal and blanket clubs, just as +I object to the spectacle of a thorough-bred racehorse harnessed to a +dray. It is a waste of power. But the Good Earnest People never see +this side of things, because they are afflicted with narrowness of +vision. They admit no definition of doing good but their own. They +cannot see that the man who passes from a distinguished University +career to a distinguished public life may do more for the poor by his +pen, by his power of awakening sympathy, by the opportunity that may be +his to obtain the reversal of unjust laws or the establishment of good +laws, than he ever could have done by living in a slum as the friend +and helper of a small group of needy men and women. Decisive victories +are won more often by lateral movements than by frontal attacks. The +wave of force which travels on a circle may arrive with more thrilling +impact on a point of contact than that which travels on a horizontal +line. Society is best served after all by the fullest development of +our best faculties; and whether we check this development from pious or +selfish motives, the result is still the same; we have robbed society +of its profit by us, which is the worst kind of evil which we can +inflict on the community. + +If this statement of social obligation is admitted as correct, most of +my friend's strictures on my conduct dissolve into mere harmless +rhetoric. For instance, he says I have 'marooned' myself, and goes on +to draw a fancy picture of a South Sea Islander, content with laziness +and sunshine, intimating that this is the kind of life which I have +chosen. On the contrary my life is what most city men would call a +hard life. I work hard every day, the only difference between my work +and theirs being that my work is natural, wholesome, and pleasant, +while theirs is drudgery. In what am I more selfish than the average +citizen, who after all is doing just what I am doing, viz. working for +his living? My friend would have me believe that the man who toils in +cities does so from exalted motives. He is bearing the weight of +empire, assisting in the growth of British commerce, and generally +serving the cause of national progress, while I sit in ignoble +independence on my own potato patch. I have known a good many men +engaged in the lower ranks of commerce, but I have yet to meet one who +is influenced in the least by these highly-coloured motives and ideals. +They are intent on earning their living, no more. Their interest in +commerce is precisely confined to what they can get out of it. They +bear just as little of the burden of the Empire as the tax-gatherer +will permit them. There is not one of them who would not object with +vigour to take a single shilling less per week for the sake of +progress, or any cause that might arrogate that title. Besides, it is +surely a piece of undiluted Cockney egoism to suppose that the only +persons who do their duty by the Empire are Londoners. We are still an +agricultural country, and there are some millions of people who live +upon the land. They do some kind of work, which one may suppose is of +some utility and value to the nation; why should their kind of work be +despised? They also pay taxes, give an equivalent of labour for their +keep, rear children, educate them, and send them out to be of some +service to the State; what does the dweller in cities do more than +these? If I were disposed to argue the question, I should contend that +the man who gets a bushel of corn or a sack of good potatoes out of the +land has added a more real asset to the wealth of the community, and +therefore deserves more praise from the commonwealth, than all the +tribe of stockbrokers since the world began; for these lords of wealth, +who reign supreme in cities, produce nothing. But since my friend is +fond of quoting Browning, I also will quote him, and let the poet say +in the flash of three lines what the dialectician would need a page to +say: + + + All service ranks the same with God,-- + God's puppets, best and worst, + Are we: there is no last nor first, + + +Of course there is no disputing the general truth of the statement that +nations are developed by the call made upon their energies by +difficulty, and their power of response to that call. But why should +such a statement be construed into a reproach on my mode of life? If +my friend, who is probably sitting in a comfortable office at this +moment, adding up figures which he could do almost with his eyes shut, +would condescend to visit my potato patch, he would find call enough +upon his energy. I have almost broken my back, and certainly blistered +my hands, for the last four hours in hoeing my potato trenches into +good level lines, and I have still an hour's work at weeding to do +before I can satisfy myself that I have earned my dinner. I can assure +him that bread-fruit does not grow on my land, nor am I in danger of +being corrupted by a too easy means of subsistence. The worst crime +that can be alleged against me is that I have changed my occupation in +life, but I am very far from being unoccupied. The occupation which I +now follow is the most ancient and most honourable in the world; I +believe that Adam followed it. Is it not a curious irony upon +civilisation, that it has so filled the mind with artificial estimates +of work, that a form of work which is still practised by the great +majority of the world's inhabitants is scarcely regarded as work at all +by the insolent minority of mankind who happen to live in cities? But +I have long observed that there is a universal tendency in men only to +regard as work the peculiar sort of work which they themselves do; and +so the artisan supposes he is the only genuine 'working man,' and the +shopkeeper thinks the life of the professional man a piece of organised +idleness, and the tradition appears ineradicable that all the clergy, +from bishops downwards, never work at all because they do not sit in +offices. It is of a piece with the theory of 'doing good'; for all men +are bigots when they attempt to measure the universal life of men by +their own little egoistic standards. + +As to that imposing axiom, that all our actions must be measured by +their collective effects, I heartily agree to it, because it is +precisely here that I think my case is strongest. I do not, of course, +invite all men to follow my example by returning to what my friend +calls 'barbarism,' and there is so little danger of any such +catastrophe that it is not worth while discussing it. But if any +considerable number of men should think my example good, I would not +deter them from following it, because I believe that no greater service +could be done to society than to multiply the number of individuals who +prefer a simple to an artificial existence, who are willing to live +lives of honest labour and entire contentment, who will care not at all +for riches, but will spend their utmost care upon their virtues, who +will count 'self-possession,' the best of all possessions, and the +power of living in God's world in cheerful happiness and modest +usefulness the real programme of life which God has set before all His +children, and which alone is worth our hope and struggle. The basis of +all good citizenship is physical and moral health. Health is really +wholeness, and so we get the word holiness, for all these words are +products of the same idea. What service to the race can be greater, +both in its present value and its ultimate effect, than to produce men +and women both physically and morally whole? It is no doubt a duty to +do all we can to help the unfit, and assist the infirm; but it is +better wisdom and a truer duty to produce the fit and the whole. In +the degree that I am better equipped as a man, I am better equipped as +a member of the commonwealth. All questions of _doing_ good are +secondary to the question of _being_ good; and to be good is but a +synonym of moral wholeness. If a nation can succeed in producing +efficient human creatures, efficient first of all in body, because that +is the basis of all efficiency of mind, and will, and energy, there +will be no question of efficient citizenship. As for me, I have found +the means of a more efficient manhood by a return to a simple and a +natural life; and therefore I am quite willing to submit my action to +the test of collective example, believing that the more widely it is +imitated, the better will it be for the happiness and well-being of my +nation, and of the world. + +The best way of doing good that I can devise is to make myself an +efficient member of society; and it is obvious that if every man did +this there would be very little work for the professional +philanthropist. It is not help that men need most, but opportunity. +Philanthropy is, for the most part, engaged in patching up the sick +anaemic body of society; which is equivalent to minimising the distress +of ill-health without producing good health. The wise physician knows +very well that no amount of medicine will do much for the anaemic +child; what the child wants is room to grow. We have social physicians +in plenty, each with his own particular medicine, but all of them +together have said nothing half so wise as these two lines of Walt +Whitman: + + + Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons; + It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth. + + +To create the best persons is to accomplish a service for society which +is durable, and therefore is the only real good. I claim that this is +what I have tried to do in my own case, and in no other way could I +discharge my obligation to society so well. Economically considered I +am now a profitable asset to society. I do a man's work every day, and +I earn my keep. When the time comes for my children to go out into +life they will take with them good thews and muscles, sound bodies, and +well-furnished minds. I imagine that this is about as good a +contribution to the cause of Progress, the service of Commerce, and the +maintenance of Empire, as any one man can make. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CITY OF THE FUTURE + +After four years' experiment in Quest of the Simple Life I am in a +position to state certain conclusions, which are sufficiently +authoritative with me to suggest that they may have some weight with my +readers. These conclusions I will briefly recapitulate. + +The chief discovery which I have made is that man may lead a perfectly +honourable, sufficing, and even joyous existence upon a very small +income. Money plays a part in human existence much less important than +we suppose. The best boon that money can bestow upon us is +independence. How much money do we need to secure independence? That +must depend on the nature of our wants. Becky Sharp thought that +virtue might be possible on 5000 pounds a year; and, apart from the +question of whether money has anything to do with virtue at all, it is +obvious that she put her figure absurdly high. Most of us put the +figure at which independence may be purchased too high. If our idea of +independence is the possession of an income that allows extravagance, +if life would be intolerable to us without the gratification of many +artificial wants, if our notion of a lodge in the wilderness is the + + + Cottage, with a double coach-house, + The pride that apes humility, + + +at which Coleridge sneered, then only a very few of us can ever hope +for our emancipation. The first step toward independence is the +limitation of our wants. We must be fed, clothed, and lodged in such a +way that a self-respecting life is possible to us; when we have +ascertained the figure at which this ideal can be realised, we have +ascertained the price of independence. + +My experiment I regard as successful, but there are two features in it +which diminish its general application. One is that I took with me +into my solitude certain tastes and aptitudes, which I may claim +without the least egoism to be not altogether common. I had an intense +love of Nature, a delight in physical exertion, and a vital interest in +literature. I was thus provided with resources in myself. It would be +the height of folly for a person wholly destitute of these aptitudes to +venture upon such a life as mine. He would find the country +unutterably wearisome, its pursuits a detestable form of drudgery, and +the unoccupied hours of his life tedious beyond expression. + +In reconsidering what I have written I perceive that unconsciously I +have chronicled only the pleasant episodes of my existence. There is +another picture that might be painted of mountains clothed in cloud, +roads deep in mire, work done under drenching rains, early darkness, +lack of neighbourship, isolation and monotony, a life separated by +continents of silence from all the eager movement of the world. There +are two pictures of the country, equally true; the country of Corot, +idyllic, lovely, full of soft light and graceful form; the country of +Millet, austere, harsh, bleak, impressive only by a certain gravity and +grand severity. We all imagine that we could live in, and we all +desire, the country of Corot. But could we live in the country of +Millet? I confess that I could not have done so without resources in +myself. It required a genuine pleasure in hard physical exercise to +get through the duties of the day, and a genuine interest in literature +to supply the place of those artificial forms of pleasure which relieve +the tedium of towns. I do not know what I should have done without +books in the long winter evenings. Nowhere is a 'city of the mind,' +into which one can retire, so necessary as in the country. There is +also needed an enduring and genuine delight in Nature and outdoor +occupations, which creates its own sunshine under dreary skies. The +mere sentiment of rusticity, created in the townsman's mind by pictures +and novels, soon dissolves before the realities of a genuine country +life. It is Millet, not Corot, who is the most frequent comrade of the +man who looks for months together on the same expanse of fields, and +moves upon the same unchanging round of labour. Therefore it is +necessary to insist that no error could be greater than for a man with +no real aptitude for a solitary life, and no resources of intellectual +pleasure in himself, to attempt such an experiment as mine. He would +weary of it in a month, and would flee, like a child afraid of the +darkness, back to gaslit streets again, with reviling on his lips and +bitter anger in his heart. + +It must also be remembered that I did not go into the country with the +intention of deriving my livelihood from the soil. My sources of +income were separate from my mode of life; and although my income was +at the best very small, yet it was sufficient to secure me ease of +mind. I did indeed discover that the expenses of a simple life were +slight, and that these expenses might be kept low by a moderate degree +of industry in rural pursuits, but I never imagined that I could live +altogether by the soil. I may frankly confess that while I believe it +to be perfectly possible for a strong and handy man, accustomed to +agricultural pursuits, to earn a living from the soil, my example has +little to teach in this direction. The cry of 'Back to the Land' will +be meaningless until general ownership in the land is made possible. +It is the burden of rent, often a cruel and unjust rent, that has +driven men from the land. Not far from me at Thornthwaite there +resided a man and his wife who were among the most frugal and +industrious persons I have ever met, yet they found it absolutely +impossible to earn a living from the land simply because the conditions +of their tenure were unreasonable. For thirteen acres of land, with a +small farm-house and farm-buildings, they paid eighty pounds per annum, +with an additional charge of thirty shillings a year for the right of a +boat upon the lake. The most that they could do with this small +holding was to graze four cows, and in a good season they got nearly +enough hay to feed their cattle during the winter months; but with all +the pinching in the world they went steadily behind at the rate of +about forty pounds per annum. This is a concrete example of the +difficulties of the small farmer, and it is sufficient to show how vain +is the hope of any return to the land as long as rents are maintained +at their present level. Were it possible for an English government to +offer free grants of land as the Canadian government does, or even to +fix rents and provide for the purchase of land as is the case in +Ireland, multitudes of able-bodied men, wearied with the fierce +struggle for bread in cities, would avail themselves of the +opportunity; but under the present conditions of farm-tenure those who +know the country best, know that, except in a very few districts, it is +next to impossible to live by the land. + +In these important respects, I admit that little can be deduced from my +example. All that I can pretend to teach is that any man possessed of +a small but secure income can live with ease and comfort in the +country, where he would be condemned to a bitter struggle in a city; +that a country life presents incomparable advantages of health and +happiness; that it is not dull or monotonous to the man who has a +genuine love of Nature, and some intellectual resources in himself; and +that what are called the privations of such a life are inconsiderable +compared with the real injuries endured by the man of small income, who +earns his difficult bread in the fierce struggle of a city or a +manufacturing town. + +This leads me to a final question, viz. can nothing be done to +regenerate our cities? Is it quite impossible that the City of the +Future should be so contrived as to offer the best advantages of +corporate and communal existence without those intolerable +disadvantages which at present make the city a realm of 'dreadful +night' to the poor, the weak, and the sensitive? + +I began by saying that I am not a hater of cities. I feel their +fascination, and four years of country life have not destroyed that +fascination. When I had occasion recently to return to London for a +week's visit, I was surprised to find with what eager joy I plunged +into the labyrinth of lighted streets, how the blood began to quicken +with the movement of the ceaseless crowd, how much of grandeur and +beauty assailed the eye in the wide perspective of domes and towers and +spires, how the very voice of London, sonorous and confused, like the +noise of a great battlefield, thrilled the spirit, and I felt again +that old and poignant charm of cities, that quickening of the +imagination which lies in mere multitude, that perpetual seduction of +the senses begotten by the revelation of so much effort and +magnificence. There was an indescribable vivacity in this moving +crowd, a contagious animation in the air; and, if truth be told, I +found the air fresher and the sky less grey than I had fancied, for a +south-west wind, soft as velvet and wet with sea-salt, blew through +street and square, and the sky was full of sunshine and of racing +clouds. I could not wonder at the love of cities; it seemed a passion +inherent in modern man, fed and brought to its maturity by centuries of +communal existence. And so the thought grew, that the temper of +enduring antagonism to cities was a temper more and more impossible to +modern man, who has long since left behind the realities of elemental +life, the rude simplicities of patriarchal modes of existence. The +City is with us, and it has come to stay. London grows vaster year by +year, and there is no sign of arrest in its prodigious life. Is it +then a dream quite impossible and vain, that cities may be so +administered as to develop the best life of men, and not to stint it? + +I believe that it is possible, and, most of all, by the expansion of +the city area. There was a reason why men should be closely packed +together in mediaeval times, when cities had their defensive walls +against invaders, but those conditions have long since passed away. +Entire security of life makes for the dispersal of population, and in a +city like London, which has not been exposed to the perils of invasion +for more than two centuries, there is no reason why people should be +confined in narrow areas, From all that we can learn of the most +ancient cities of the world, such as Nineveh and Babylon, we know that +they covered enormous areas, although at no time were they secure from +the capricious tragedies of war. Nineveh appears to have been a group +of cities, united by a common government; cities of gardens and parks, +so that the country flowed into the streets; cities in which the great +temples, and palaces, and public buildings were not confined to any one +quarter, but were scattered through the entire area of the city, giving +an equal dignity to its every part. Let us apply the analogy to +London. Let us suppose a reconstructed London, devised upon the broad +principle of ample space and air according to population; of +congregated and contiguous cities under a common government; of public +buildings of utility and beauty equally distributed; and it is easy to +imagine a London that should combine all the charm of the country with +the advantages of the metropolis. The splendid streets, which are the +main arteries of traffic, would remain, but the squalid tenements and +alleys which are packed away behind them would disappear. A long chain +of parks and gardens would unite the West and East, taking the place of +a host of rotten rabbit-warrens, which are a disgrace to any civilised +community. There would be no quarter of the town relinquished to the +absolutely poor; Poplar would have its palaces of wealthy merchants as +well as Kensington, St. Albans on the north, Reigate on the south, +would mark the limits of the city, and all the intervening space would +be filled with thriving colonies of Londoners, living in well-built +houses with ample gardens. Manufactories would be distributed as well +as mansions. The various trades would not be huddled together in +narrow inconvenient corners of the metropolis; the factory, removed a +dozen miles from Charing Cross, would take its workers with it, and +become the nucleus of a new township. The artisan would thus work +within sight of his house, and that entire dislocation of home-life, +involved by present conditions of labour, would disappear. And each of +these townships would have its baths, libraries, and technical schools, +not dependent on local enterprise or generosity, but administered by a +central body, composed of men of wide views and experience, who should +deserve the great title of the City Fathers; and each would be saved +from the narrow spirit of suburbanism by the proud sense of its +corporate unity with London. + +Such a London no doubt bears the aspect of a futile dream; yet it is +worth while pointing out that in a dim and feeble way this has been the +ideal after which London has been groping ever since the day when the +population first overflowed its normal boundaries. The mischief has +been that nothing has been done upon a grand scale and by organised +effort. A bit of open space has been bought for a park here and there, +while a much larger bit has passed into the builder's hands through +local indifference or apathy. New suburbs have arisen in a day, not +because any central power willed it, but simply by the combined greed, +energy, and enterprise of the speculative builder, who invariably +builds rotten houses, which he sells as fast as he can to guileless +people with a passion for owning house-property. The result has been +confusion, waste, and disappointment. The new township rises without +any adequate provision for roads or railway accommodation. It is +filled by a migratory population who do not realise these +inconveniences or ignore them, as long as the novelty of the thing +charms them; presently they move off again, a poorer population takes +their place, rents drop, and another suburb is left to a precarious +existence. I contend that this necessary expansion of the metropolis +should not be left to caprice; it should be designed upon broad lines +of development. The London County Council should buy up every acre of +land that comes into the market within a thirty-five mile radius of +Central London. It should be for the Council to decide whether such +land as they acquired should be retained for parks and gardens, or +utilised for building. It should be in their sole power to decide the +kind of buildings that should be erected, and to bind themselves to +erect buildings of public utility and convenience, such as libraries, +baths, and concert-halls in a settled proportion to the number of +dwelling-houses. At all costs the speculative builder should be +eliminated. He is the worst sort of parasite on the community. His +dishonesty is absolute, and the mischief which he works is little short +of crime. Since the County Council has established its right to build +houses, and has built them well, let it build all our houses, and give +to other classes beside the artisan the advantage of substantial +tenements. Let it borrow as many millions as it pleases; no one will +complain if its administration is efficient; and after all, we may as +well pay a fair rent to a central body, amenable to public opinion, as +to a private individual whose own gain is the chief matter involved, We +cannot do without the capitalist; but a Communal Capitalist is +infinitely preferable to a private capitalist. Municipal Socialism is +the watchword of the future; and instead of being jealous of the +existing powers of the County Council, I would increase those powers +tenfold; for without the widest kind of power, and even of despotic +power, invested in some central authority, the chaotic expansion of +London will go on to the enrichment of the few and the abiding injury +of the many. + +One of the greatest difficulties in this expansion of the area is the +means of locomotion. It is at present in the power of a railway +company, which is after all only a private trading concern, to create +or ruin the prosperity of a suburb by the kind of provision which it +makes for it necessities. A good, rapid, cheap, and frequent service +of trains is a matter of the utmost importance to a suburb. But here +again, our method of expansion is left to chance and haphazard. The +speculative builder does not trouble himself about a train-service; he +knows by experience that he can attract a population to any given +locality, and he leaves the new residents to discover the +inconveniences of the locality for themselves. It might be supposed +that the railway company, in its own interest, would be quick to profit +by the new population on its line of route; sometimes it does so, but +in many instances it does not. One would suppose by the grudging way +in which extra trains are put on to meet the needs of an increased +population, that the railway company was a beneficent association, +granting favours, instead of a trading concern in search of new +business. The only real remedy for this kind of evil is that all the +means of locomotion within a twenty-five miles radius of Charing Cross +should be in the hands of one central authority. If a County Council +is capable of superintending a tramway system, it should also be +capable of superintending the suburban railway system for the public +good. And if it be thought much too vast an undertaking for the County +Council to become the proprietor of all the suburban lines, it should +at least be in the power of the Council to exercise effective control +over their working, and to compel the companies to make adequate +provision for the outlying populations. + +But it is clear that if factories and businesses were removed into +suburban districts, carrying their armies of workers with them, a good +part of the difficulty of locomotion would soon settle itself. It is +the enormous daily flow of population toward the centre that chokes the +channels of locomotion, and the wisest method of checking this flow is +to make it unnecessary, by establishing manufacturing colonies, on the +pattern of Mr. Ellis Lever's and Mr. Cadbury's colonies at Port +Sunlight and Bourneville. There would still remain the difficulty of +locomotion in the central districts, but with proper enterprise, +organisation, and control, this difficulty is not insuperable. In a +few years we shall look back with wonder and pity to the days when the +infrequent 'bus, the slow and tedious horse-tram, and the exorbitant +cab were the means of locomotion in which a city of six million people +put its trust. The electric tram, clean, frequent, and rapid, will be +everywhere; the electric cab will run at a normal fare of threepence a +mile; perhaps also there will be electric overhead railways, +constructed upon a system which does not interfere with the perspective +of the main thoroughfares, for the overhead electric railway, whatever +may be its defects, is a means of locomotion vastly preferable to the +unventilated tubes on which we now pride ourselves. May we not also +hope that the general application of electric force will do much to +cleanse our atmosphere? With houses lit and warmed by electricity, +factories run by electric force, cooking done in electric ovens, the +vile smoke which darkens and destroys the city would disappear. The +skies of London would be as pure as the sky of the Orkneys, and a +hundred trees and plants, which now perish at the first touch of the +fog-fiend, would grow in our city parks and gardens as freely as they +grow in Epping Forest. With a fleet of electric boats upon the Thames, +running at one minute intervals, the Thames would once more become the +river of pleasure, and a highway of popular traffic. There is no +reason why these things should not be. All that is needed is that +London, through its chosen representatives, should assume the full +control of its own life; working out the scheme of its improvement by +deliberate methods and upon a settled plan; compelling the obedience of +all its citizens to a central authority, and intrusting to that +authority the complete management of its affairs, not as a means of +personal profit, but for the profit and the welfare of the whole +community. + +In the meantime much may be done by personal enterprise. Is there any +real reason why groups of persons, whose employment is in the city, but +whose hearts are in the country, should not found small colonies for +themselves on the outskirts of London? Let a thousand householders +combine themselves into a company; let them choose their own site, +build their own houses; let them erect their own Church--one Church +upon the broad basis of charity instead of dogma would suffice--elect +their own managing committee, and set themselves to the creation of a +true community. Let them possess their own electric plant for heating +and lighting; let every house share the common convenience; and since +domestic labour forms one of the chief difficulties to-day, let common +dining-halls be erected for every hundred persons, where good and cheap +meals could be provided, or from which such meals could be supplied to +private houses, at the bare cost of their production. Let it be the +aim of these communities to collect persons of not one trade or +profession only, but persons of varied occupations to compose their +citizenship, so that as many forms of human energy as might be possible +should be represented, each contributing its own element to the common +life. Let all the trades permitted in the little township be conducted +on co-operative principles, and not for private gain. Let due +provision be made for efficient education, for the cultivation of the +arts, and for the proper means of pleasure. Would not such a +combination of men and women represent the best ideal of a human +community? And can we not see that in the mere economy of means and +money the gain by such a system would be immense? Suppose the +capitalised value of such a township, including the purchase of land, +the erection of houses, draining, lighting, and so forth, were put at a +million and a quarter sterling, which is a generous estimate, this +would impose upon the individual house-holders no more than 40 pounds +per annum, calculated at 4 per cent.; and besides this he would share +in the great economy of co-operative trading. If this estimate be +rejected as inadequate, it is easy to compute the cost by adding a +burden of 10 pounds per annum to each house-holder for each quarter of +a million expended; but even if the total charge reached 50 pounds or +60 pounds per annum for each householder, he would gain immensely in +what he could get for his expenditure, compared with what he could get +for the same money in crowded London. Such a scheme is simply the +application of the principle of co-operation to communal life. It is +not chimerical; if it seem so, it is simply because we are so +ill-trained in morals that we are unwilling to act together in +practical brotherhood. It is not impracticable; it might be achieved +to-morrow if we were in earnest over it. There are hundreds of +thoughtful men who have perceived its attractions, outlined its system, +vaguely desired its benefits; are there not a thousand bold adventurers +in London willing to bring their vague ideal to the test, and to make a +practical experiment which, once successful, would alter the whole +science of living, and go far to solve some of the most difficult +problems of our time? + +It is for such a movement that I wait. Free and glad as my life among +the mountains has been, yet I am sensible that I am deprived of many +elements of human intercourse, which are efficacious in the growth of +thought and the widening of the mind. I count my deprivation light +compared with the higher gains that are mine in the composure of my +mind, the joy of animal vitality, the tranquil days that leave no +bitterness and bring no discord, each joined to each in 'natural +piety,' each inwoven into the calm rhythm of fulfilled desire and duty. +But my pleasure is too little shared to be entirely satisfactory. I +see that there are terms on which my happiness might be communicated; +that there is a mode of life that should combine all the delight of +human intercourse with the tranquillity of natural existence; that the +choice does not lie, and ought not to lie, between the city and the +desert; that it is only by the folly of man, only by his greed, and +haste, and carelessness, and contempt for the communal principle, that +such a choice is forced upon me. The Regenerated City will come in +time, too late perhaps for me to enjoy it; but the City Colony or +Commune may come at any time; and when it comes I will gladly be its +conscript, I will earnestly labour for its welfare, I will humbly seek +to promote its success, believing that in the degree that society +exchanges individualism for co-operation, personal gain for common +good, man will enter on the widening evolution of a real progress, and +find the path that leads him to a truly Golden Age. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 17246-8.txt or 17246-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/2/4/17246 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/17246-8.zip b/17246-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52bd4b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/17246-8.zip diff --git a/17246.txt b/17246.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bd3aa9 --- /dev/null +++ b/17246.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4866 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Quest of the Simple Life, by William J. +Dawson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Quest of the Simple Life + + +Author: William J. Dawson + + + +Release Date: December 6, 2005 [eBook #17246] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE + +by + +W. J. DAWSON + + + + + + + +New York +E. P. Dutton and Co. +31 West Twenty-Third Street +1907 +Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty + + + + + + Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim. + VIRG., Ecl. viii., l. 72. + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE + + +CHAPTER II + +GETTING THE BEST OUT OF LIFE + + +CHAPTER III + +GETTING A LIVING, AND LIVING + + +CHAPTER IV + +EARTH-HUNGER + + +CHAPTER V + +HEALTH AND ECONOMICS + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE + + +CHAPTER VII + +I FIND MY COTTAGE + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BUYING HAPPINESS + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOW WE LIVED + + +CHAPTER X + +NEIGHBOURSHIP + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WOUNDS OF A FRIEND + + +CHAPTER XII + +AM I RIGHT? + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CITY OF THE FUTURE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE + +For a considerable number of years I had been a resident in London, +which city I regarded alternately as my Paradise and my House of +Bondage. I am by no means one of those who are always ready to fling +opprobrious epithets at London, such as 'a pestilent wen,' a cluster of +'squalid villages,' and the like; on the contrary, I regard London as +the most fascinating of all cities, with the one exception of that city +of Eternal Memories beside the Tiber. But even Horace loved the +olive-groves of Tivoli more than the far-ranged splendours of the +Palatine; and I may be pardoned if an occasional vision of green fields +often left my eye insensitive to metropolitan attractions. + +This is a somewhat sonorous preface to the small matter of my story; +but I am anxious to elaborate it a little, lest it should be imagined +that I am merely a person of bucolic mind, to whom all cities or large +congregations of my fellow-men are in themselves abhorrent. On the +contrary I have an inherent love of all cities which are something more +than mere centres of manufacturing industry. The truly admirable city +secures interest, and even passionate love, not because it is a +congeries of thriving factories, but rather by the dignity of its +position, the splendour of its architecture, the variety and volume of +its life, the imperial, literary, and artistic interests of which it is +the centre, and the prolongation of its history through tumultuous +periods of time, which fade into the suggestive shadows of antiquity. +London answers perfectly to this definition of the truly admirable +city. It has been the stage of innumerable historic pageants; it +presents an unexampled variety of life; and there is majesty in the +mere sense of multitude with which it arrests and often overpowers the +mind. + +As I have already, with an innocent impertinence, justified myself by +Horace, so I will now justify myself by Wordsworth, whose famous sonnet +written on Westminster Bridge is sufficient proof that he could feel +the charm of cities as deeply as the charm of Nature. 'Earth hath not +anything to show more fair,' wrote Wordsworth, and of a truth London +has moods and moments of almost unearthly beauty, perhaps unparalleled +by any vision that inebriates the eye in the most gorgeous dawn that +flushes Alpine snows, or the most solemn sunset that builds a gate of +gold across the profound depth of Borrowdale or Wastwater. He who has +seen the tower of St. Clement Danes swim up, like an insubstantial +fabric, through violet mist above the roaring Strand; or the golden +Cross upon St. Paul's with a flag of tinted cloud flying from it; or +the solemn reaches of the Thames bathed in smoky purple at the slow +close of a summer's day, will know what I mean, and will (it is +possible) have some memory of his own which will endorse the justness +of my praise. + +From this exalted prelude I will at once descend to more prosaic +matter, leaving my reader, in his charity, to devise for me an apology +which I have neither the wit nor the desire to invent for myself. With +the best will in the world to speak in praise of cities it must be +owned that the epic and lyric moments of London are infrequent. As a +casual resident in London, a student and spectator, free to leave it +when I willed, I could have been heartily content; but I, in common +with some insignificant millions of my fellow-creatures, was bound to +live in London as a means of living at all. He is no true citizen who +merely comes up to town 'for the season,' alternating the pleasures of +town with those of the country; he alone is the true citizen who _must_ +live amid the roar of the street all the year round, and for years +together. If I could choose for myself I would even now choose the +life of pleasant alternation between town and country, because I am +persuaded that the true piquancy and zest of all pleasures lies in +contrast. But fate orders these things for us, and takes no account of +our desires, unless it be to treat them with habitual irony. At +five-and-twenty the plain fact met me--that I must needs live in +London, because my bread could be earned nowhere else. No choice was +permitted me; I must go where crowds were, because from the favour or +necessities of such crowds I must gather the scanty tithes which put +food upon my table and clothes upon my back. When eminent writers, +seated at ample desks, from which they command fair views of open +country, denounce with prophetic fervour the perils which attend the +growth of cities, they somewhat overlook the fact that the growth of +cities is a sequence, alike ineluctable and pitiless, of the modern +struggle for existence. One cannot be a lawyer, or a banker, a +physician or a journalist, without neighbours. He can scarce be a +literary man in perfect sylvan solitude, unless his work is of such +quality--perhaps I should have said such popularity--that it wins for +him immediate payment, or unless his private fortune be such that he +can pursue his aims as a writer with entire indifference to the +half-yearly statements of his publisher. In respect of the various +employments of trade and commerce, the case is still plainer. Men must +needs go where the best wages may be earned; and under modern +conditions of life it is as natural that population should flow toward +cities, as that rivers should seek the sea. These matters will be more +particularly discussed later on; it is enough for me to explain at +present that I was one of those persons for whom life in a city was an +absolute necessity. + +It is not until one is tied to a locality that its defects become +apparent. A street that interests the mind by some charm of populous +vivacity when it is traversed at random and without object, becomes +inexpressibly wearisome when it is the thoroughfare of daily duty. My +daily duty took me through a long stretch of Oxford Street, which is a +street not altogether destitute of some real claim to gaiety and +dignity. At first I was ready to concede this claim, and even to +endorse it with enthusiasm; but from the day when I realised that +Oxford Street conducted me, by a force of inevitable gravitation, to a +desk in an office, I began to loathe it. The eye became conscious of a +hundred defects and incongruities; the tall houses rose like prison +walls; the resounding tumult of the streets seemed like the clamour of +tormented spirits. For the first time I began to understand why +imaginative writers had often likened London to Inferno. + +I well remember by what a series of curious expedients I endeavoured to +evade these sensations. The most obvious was altogether to avoid this +glittering and detested thoroughfare by making long detours through the +meaner streets which lay behind it; but this was merely to exchange one +kind of aesthetic misery which had some alleviations for another kind +which had none. Sometimes I endeavoured to contrive a doubtful +exhilaration from the contrast which these meaner streets afforded; +saying to myself, as I pushed my way through the costers' stalls of +Great James Street, 'Now you are exchanging squalor for magnificence. +Be prepared for a surprise.' But the ruse failed utterly, and my mind +laughed aloud at the pitiful imposture. Another device was to create +points of interest, like a series of shrines along a tedious road, +which should present some aspect of allurement. There was a book-shop +here or an art-shop there; yesterday a biography of Napoleon was +exhibited in the one, or a print of Murillo's 'Flight into Egypt,' in +the other; and it is become a matter of speculation whether they were +there to-day. Just as a solitary sailor will beguile the tedium of +empty days at sea by a kind of cribbage, in which the left hand plays +against the right, so I laid odds for and against myself on such +trifles as these, and even went so far as to keep an account of my +successes and my failures. Thus, for a whole month I was interested in +a person quite unknown to me, who wore an obsolete white beaver hat, +appeared punctually at the corner of Bond Street at half-past five in +the afternoon, and spent half an hour in turning over the odd volumes +displayed on the street board of a secondhand-book shop not far from +Oxford Circus. His appearances were so planetary in their regularity +that one might have reckoned time by them. Who he was, or what his +objects in life may have been, I never learned. I never saw him walk +but in the one direction; I never saw him buy one of the many books +which he examined: perhaps he also was afflicted with the tedium of +London, and took this singular way of getting through a portion of his +sterile day with a simulated interest. At all events he afforded me an +interest, and when he vanished at the end of the month, Oxford Street +once more became intolerable to me. + +These particulars appear so foolish and so trivial that most persons +will find them ridiculous, and even the most sympathetic will perhaps +wonder why they are recorded. They were, however, far from trivial to +me. The marooned seaman saves his sanity by cutting notches in a +stick, the solitary prisoner by friendship with a mouse; and when life +is reduced to the last exiguity of narrowness, the interests of life +will be narrow too. No writer, whose work is familiar to me, has ever +yet described with unsparing fidelity the kind of misery which lies in +having to do precisely the same things at the same hour, through long +and consecutive periods of time. The hours then become a dead weight +which oppresses the spirit to the point of torture. Life itself +resembles those dreadful dreams of childhood, in which we see the +ceiling and the walls of the room contract round one's helpless and +immobile form. Blessed is he who has variety in his life: thrice +blessed is he who has both freedom and variety: but the subordinate +toiler in the vast mechanism of a great city has neither. He will sit +at the same desk, gaze upon the same unending rows of figures, do, in +fact, the same things year in and year out till his youth has withered +into age. He himself becomes little better than a mechanism. There is +no form of outdoor employment of which this can be said. The life of +the agricultural labourer, so often pitied for its monotony, is variety +itself compared with the life of the commercial clerk. The labourer's +tasks are at least changed by the seasons; but time brings no such +diversion to the clerk. It is this horrible monotony which so often +makes the clerk a foul-minded creature; driven in upon himself, he has +to create some kind of drama for his instincts and imaginations, and +often from the sorriest material. When I played single-handed cribbage +with the few trivial interests which I knew, I at least took an +innocent diversion; and I may claim that my absurd fancies injured no +one, and were certainly of some service to myself. + +The outsider usually imagines that great cities afford unusual +opportunities of social intercourse, and when I first became a citizen +I found this prospect enchanting. I scanned the horizon eagerly for +these troops of friends which a city was supposed to furnish: quested +here and there for a responsive pair of eyes; made timid approaches +which were repulsed; and, finally, after much experiment, had to admit +that the whole idea was a delusion. No doubt it is true enough that, +with a settled and considerable income, and the power of entertaining, +friends are to be found in plenty. But Grosvenor Square and Kentish +Town do not so much as share a common atmosphere. In the one it is a +pleasant tradition that the house door should be set wide to all comers +who can contribute anything to the common social stock; in the other, +the house door is jealously locked and barred. The London clerk does +not care to reveal the shifts and the bareness of his domestic life. +He will reside in one locality for years without so much as seeking to +know his next-door neighbour. He will live on cordial terms with his +comrade in the office, but will never dream of inviting him to his +home. His instinct of privacy is so abnormal that it becomes mere +churlishness. His wife, if he have one, usually fosters this spirit +for reasons of her own. Her interests end with the clothing and +education of her children. She does not wish for friends, does not +cultivate the grace of hospitality, and is indifferent to social +intercourse. In short, the barbaric legend that an Englishman's house +is his castle, is nowhere so much respected as in London. + +The exhausting character of life in London, and the mere vastness of +its geographical area, do something to produce this result. Men who +leave home early in the morning, sit for many hours in an office, and +reach home late at night, soon lose both the instinct and desire for +social intercourse. They prefer the comfortable torpor of the +fireside. If some imperative need of new interests torments them, they +seek relaxation in the music-hall or some other place of popular +resort. The art of conversation is almost extinct in a certain type of +Londoner. He knows nothing to converse about outside his business +interests, his family concerns, and perhaps the latest sensation of the +daily newspaper. Those lighter flights of fancy, those delicate +innuendoes and allusions of implied experience or culture--all the +give-and-take of happily contending minds--all, indeed, that makes true +conversation--is a science utterly unknown to him. A certain +superficial nimbleness of mind he does sometimes possess, but for all +that he is a dull creature, made dull by the limitations of his life. + +If it should happen, as it often may, that such a man has some genuine +instinct for friendship, and has a friend to whom he can confide his +real thoughts, the chances are that his friend will be separated from +him by the mere vastness of London. To the rural mind the metropolis +appears an entity; in reality it is an empire. A journey from the +extreme north to the extreme south, from Muswell Hill to Dulwich, is +less easily accomplished, and often less speedily, than a journey from +London to Birmingham. There is none of that pleasant 'dropping-in' for +an evening which is possible in country towns of not immoderate radius. +Time-tables have to be consulted, engagement-books scanned, serious +preparations made, with the poor result, perhaps, of two hours' hurried +intercourse. The heartiest friendship does not long survive this +malignity of circumstance. It is something to know that you have a +friend, obscurely hidden in some corner of the metropolis; but you see +him so rarely, that when you meet, it is like forming a new friendship +rather than pursuing an old one. It is little wonder that, under such +conditions, visits grow more and more infrequent, and at last cease. A +message at Christmas, an intimation of a birth, a funeral card, are the +solitary relics and mementoes of many a city friendship not extinct, +but utterly suspended. + +I dwell on these obvious characteristics of London life, because in +course of time they assumed for me almost terrifying dimensions. After +ten years of arduous toil I found myself at thirty-five lonely, +friendless, and imprisoned in a groove of iron, whose long curves swept +on inevitably to that grim terminus where all men arrive at last. +Sometimes I chided myself for my discontent; and certainly there were +many who might have envied me. I occupied a fairly comfortable house +in a decayed terrace where each house was exactly like its neighbour, +and had I told any one that the mere aspect of this grey terrace +oppressed me by its featureless monotony, I should have been laughed at +for my pains. I believe that I was trusted by my employers, and if a +mere automatic diligence can be accounted a virtue, I merited their +trust. In course of time my income would have been increased, though +never to that degree which means competence or freedom. To this common +object of ambition I had indeed long ago become indifferent. What can +a few extra pounds a year bring to a man who finds himself bound to the +same tasks, and those tasks distasteful? I was married and had two +children; and the most distressing thought of all was that I saw my +children predestined to the same fate. I saw them growing up in +complete destitution of those country sights and sounds which had made +my own youth delightful; acquiring the superficial sharpness of the +city child and his slang; suffering at times by the anaemia and +listlessness bred of vitiated air; high-strung and sensitive as those +must needs be whose nerves are in perpetual agitation; and when, in +chance excursions to the country, I compared my children with the +children of cottagers and ploughmen, I felt that I had wronged them, I +saw my children foredoomed, by an inexorable destiny, to a life at all +points similar with my own. In course of time they also would become +recruits in the narrow-chested, black-coated army of those who sit at +desks. They would become slaves without having known the value of +freedom; slaves not by capture but by heritage. More and more the +thought began to gather shape, Was I getting the most, or the best, out +of life? Was there no other kind of life in which toil was redeemed +from baseness by its own inherent interest, no life which offered more +of tranquil satisfaction and available, if humble, happiness? Day by +day this thought sounded through my mind, and each fresh discouragement +and disability of the life I led gave it sharper emphasis. At last the +time came when I found an answer to it, and these chapters tell the +story of my seeking and my finding. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GETTING THE BEST OUT OF LIFE + +The reader will perhaps say that the kind of miseries recounted in the +previous chapter are more imaginary than real. Many thousands of +people subsist in London upon narrow means, and do not find the life +intolerable. They have their interests and pleasures, meagre enough +when judged by a superior standard, but sufficient to maintain in them +some of the vivacity of existence. No doubt this is true. I remember +being struck some years ago by the remark of a person of distinction, +equally acquainted with social life in its highest and its lowest +forms. Mr. H., as I will call this person, said that the dismal +pictures drawn by social novelists of life among the very poor were +true in fact, but wrong in perspective. Novelists described what their +own feelings would be if they were condemned to live the life of the +disinherited city drudge, rather than the actual feelings of the drudge +himself. A man of education, accustomed to easy means, would suffer +tortures unspeakable if he were made to live in a single room of a +populous and squalid tenement, and had to subsist upon a wage at once +niggardly and precarious. He would be tormented with that memory of +happier things, which we are told is a 'sorrow's crown of sorrow.' But +the man who has known no other condition of life is unconscious of its +misery. He has no standard of comparison. An environment which would +drive a man of refinement to thoughts of suicide, does not produce so +much as dissatisfaction in him. Hence there is far more happiness +among the poor than we imagine. They see nothing deplorable in a lot +to which they have become accustomed; they are as our first parents +before their eyes were opened to a knowledge of good or evil; or, to +take a less mythical illustration, they are as the contented savage, to +whom the refinements of European civilisation are objects of ridicule +rather than envy. + +I quote this opinion for what it is worth; but it has little relevance +to my own case. I am the only competent judge of my own feelings. I +know perfectly well that these feelings were not shared by men who +shared the conditions of my own life. There was a clerk in the same +office with me who may be taken as an example of his class. Poor +Arrowsmith--how well I recall him!--was a little pallid man, always +neatly if shabbily dressed, punctual as a clock, and of irreproachable +diligence. He was verging on forty, had a wife and family whom I never +saw, and an aged mother whom he was proud to support. He was of quite +imperturbable cheerfulness, delighted in small jokes, and would chatter +like a daw when occasion served him. He had never read a book in his +life; his mind subsisted wholly upon the halfpenny newspapers. He had +no pleasures, unless one can count as such certain Bank Holiday +excursions to Hampstead Heath, which were performed under a heavy sense +of duty to his family. He had lived in London all his days, but knew +much less of it than the country excursionist. He had never visited +St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey; had never travelled so far as Kew or +Greenwich; had never been inside a picture gallery; and had never +attended a concert in his life. The pendulum of his innocuous +existence swung between the office and his home with a uniform +monotony. Yet not only was he contented with his life, but I believe +that he regarded it as entirely successful. He had counted it a great +piece of luck when he had entered the office as a youth of sixteen, and +the glow of his good fortune still lingered in his mind at forty. He +regarded his employers with a species of admiring awe not always +accorded to kings. The most violent social democrat could have made +nothing of Arrowsmith; there was not the least crevice in his heart in +which the seed of discontent could have found a lodgment. As for +making any question of whether he was getting the best or most out of +life, Arrowsmith was as incapable as a kitten. + +The virtues of Arrowsmith, which were in their way quietly heroic, +impressed me a good deal; but his abject contentment with the +limitations of his lot appalled me. I felt a dread grow in me lest I +should become subdued to the element in which I worked as he was. I +asked myself whether a life so destitute of real interests and +pleasures was life at all? I made fugitive attempts to allure the +little man into some realms of wider interest, but with the most +discouraging results. I once insisted on taking him with me for a day +in Epping Forest. He came reluctantly, for he did not like leaving his +wife at home, and it seemed that no persuasion could induce her to +undertake so adventurous a jaunt. He was no walker, and half a dozen +miles along the Forest roads tired him out. By the afternoon even his +cheerfulness had vanished; he gazed with blank and gloomy eyes upon the +wide spaces of the woodland scenery. He did not regain his spirits +till we drew near Stratford on the homeward journey. At the first +sight of gas-lit streets he brightened up, and I am persuaded that the +rancid odours of the factories at Bow were sweeter in his nostrils than +all the Forest fragrances. I never asked him again to share a pleasure +for which I now perceived he had no faculty; but I often asked myself +how long it would take for a city life to extirpate in me the taste by +which Nature is appreciated, as it had in Arrowsmith. + +I have taken Arrowsmith as an example of the narrowness of interest +created by a city life, and it would be easy to offer an apology for +him, which I, for one, would most heartily endorse. The poor fellow +was very much the creature of his circumstances. But this was scarcely +the case with another man I knew, whose circumstances, had he known how +to use them, might have afforded him the opportunity of many cultivated +tastes. He was the son of a small farmer, born in the same village as +myself. By some curious accident he was flung into the vortex of +London life at seventeen, and became a clerk in a reputable firm of +stockbrokers in Throgmorton Street. He rose rapidly, speculated +largely and successfully for himself, became a partner, and was rich at +thirty. I used to meet him occasionally, for he never forgot that we +had sat upon the same bench at school. I can see him still; +well-fleshed and immaculately dressed; his waistcoat pockets full of +gold; a prop of music-halls, a patron of expensive restaurants; +flashing from one to the other in the evening hours in swift hansoms; a +man envied and admired by a host of clerks in Throgmorton Street to +whom he appeared a kind of Napoleon of finance. I will confess that I +myself was a little dazzled by his careless opulence. When he took me +to dine with him he thought nothing of giving the head waiter a +sovereign as a guarantee of careful service, or of sending another +sovereign to the master of the orchestra with a request for some +particular piece of music which he fancied. He once confided to me +that he had brought off certain operations which had made him the +possessor of eighty thousand pounds. To me the sum seemed immense, but +he regarded it as a bagatelle. When I suggested certain uses for it, +such as retirement to the country, the building of a country house, the +collection of pictures or of a library, he laughed at me. He informed +me that he never spent more than a single day in the country every +year; it was spent in visiting his father at the old farm. He loathed +the quiet of the country, and counted his one day in the year an +infliction and a sacrifice. Books and pictures he had cared for once, +but as he now put it, he had 'no use for them.' It seemed that all his +eighty thousand pounds was destined to be flung upon the great roulette +table of stock and share speculations. It was not that he was +avaricious; few men cared less for money in itself; but he could not +live without the excitement of speculation. 'I prefer the air of +Throgmorton Street to any air in the world,' he observed. 'I am +unhappy if I leave it for a day.' So far as knowledge of or interest +in London went, he was not a whit better than poor shabby Arrowsmith. +His London stretched no further than from the Bank to Oxford Circus, +and the landmarks by which he knew it were restaurants and music-halls. + +The man seemed so satisfied with everything about his life that it was +a kind of joy to meet him. The sourness of my own discontent was +dissolved in the alembic of his joviality. Yet it was certain that he +lived a life of the most torturing anxiety. There were recurring +periods when his fortune hung in the balance, and his financial +salvation was achieved as by fire. When he sat silent for a moment, +strange things were written on his face. Haggard lines ran across the +brow; the hollows underneath the eyes grew deep; and one could see that +black care sat upon his shoulders. There was a listening posture of +the head, as of one apprehensive of the footfall of disaster, and +though he was barely forty, his hair was white. What happened to him +finally I do not know. I missed him for a year or two; inquired at the +hotel where he had lived and found him gone; and I thought I read in +the sarcastic smile of the hotel-manager more knowledge than he was +willing to communicate. I imagine that he went down in some financial +storm, like ships at sea that are heard of no more; the Napoleon of +finance had somewhere found his Waterloo. The reflection is +inevitable; what had he got out of life after all? He had won neither +peace nor honour; he had known nothing of the finer joys or tastes; he +had enjoyed no satisfying pleasures; such triumph as he had known had +been the brief triumph of the gambler. Upon the whole I thought the +narrow tedious life of Arrowsmith the worthier. + +Reflections of this nature are usually attributed to mere envy or +contempt of wealth, which is a temper not less sordid than a love of +wealth. For my part I can but profess that I feel for wealth neither +envy nor contempt. On the contrary, I love to imagine myself wealthy, +and I flatter myself--as most poor men do--that I am a person +peculiarly fitted by nature to afford a conspicuous example of how +wealth should be employed. I like to dramatise my fancies, and the +more impossible these fancies are, the more convincing is the drama +that can be educed from them. Thus I have several times built palaces +which have rivalled the splendours of the Medici; I have administered +great estates to the entire satisfaction of my tenants; I have +established myself as the Maecenas of art and literature; and were I +ever called to play these parts in reality, I am convinced that my +competence would secure applause. The point at which I stick, however, +is this: rich men rarely do these things. It is the pursuit of wealth, +rather than wealth itself, that is their pleasure. Let us suppose the +case of a man who has toiled with undivided mind for thirty years to +acquire a fortune; will it not be usually found that in the struggle to +be rich he has lost those very qualities which make riches worth +possessing? He buys his estate or builds his house; but there is +little pleasure in the business. He is the mere slave of land-agents, +the puppet of architects and upholsterers. He has no original taste to +guide or interest him: what he once had has perished long ago in the +dreary toil of money-grubbing. The men who build or decorate his house +have a certain pleasure in their work; all that he does is to pay them +for being happy. If he should adopt the rich man's hobby of collecting +pictures or a library, he rarely enjoys a higher pleasure than the mere +lust of possession. He buys what he is told to buy, without +discrimination; he has no knowledge of what constitutes rarity or +value; and most certainly he knows nothing of those excitements of the +quest which make the collection of articles of vertu a pursuit so +fascinating to the man of trained judgment but moderate means. And, as +if to complete the irony of the situation, he is after all but the +infrequent tenant of the treasure-house which he has built; the blinds +are drawn half the year; the splendid rooms are seen by no wiser eyes +than those of his butler and his housekeeper; and his secretary, if he +be a man of taste and education, draws the real dividend of pleasure +from all these rare and costly things which Dives has accumulated. +Dives is in most cases little more than the man who pays the bill for +things which other folk enjoy. + +Let Dives be accounted then a public benefactor, we may say; perhaps +so, but the question still remains, does Dives get the most and best +out of life? The obvious answer is that the best things of life are +not to be bought with money; it would be nearer the truth to quote the +prophetic paradox, they are bought 'without money and without price.' +I was present once at a dinner given by a millionaire newspaper +proprietor to a crowd of journalists, on the occasion of the founding +of a new magazine. The millionaire ate little, spoke little, and sat +throughout the feast with an anxious cloud upon his brow. I recognised +the same furtive look of apprehension in his eyes that I had seen in +the eyes of my stock-broking friend long before. As I glanced round +the room I found myself able to pick out all the men of wealth by that +same look. It would seem that the anxieties of getting money only +beget the more torturing anxiety of how to keep it. That, I am +persuaded, was the dominant thought of my millionaire host throughout +the meal; he knew the fear and fever of the gambler risking an enormous +stake, the agitation of the soldier on the eve of a battle, in which +victory is highly problematical. But that crowd of hungry journalists, +how they did eat! What laughter sat on those boyish faces, what zest +of life, what capacity of pleasure! There was not one of them whose +daily bread was not precarious; not one perhaps who had a decent +balance at the bank; yet they were so gay, so resolutely cheerful, so +frankly interested in life and in themselves, that I could fancy those +gloomy eyes at the head of the table watched them with a sort of envy, +I think there must be something fatal to gaiety in the mere +responsibilities of wealth; I am sure that there is something +corrupting in the labours of its acquisition. I think I had rather be +a vagrant, with a crust in my knapsack, a blue sky above me, and the +adventurous road before me, than look upon the world with a pair of +eyes so laughterless as his who was our host that night. + +Again I protest that I make no railing accusation against wealth in +itself. I am so far convinced of the truly beneficent utilities of +wealth, that I would quite willingly take the risks of a moderate +competence, should any one be disposed to make experiment with my +virtues. There is some magnanimity in this offer, for I can no more +foretell the effects of the bacillus of wealth upon my moral nature, +than can the physician who offers his body for inoculation with the +germ of some dire disease that science may be served. It argues some +lack of imagination among millionaires that it has occurred to no one +of the tribe to endow a man instead of an institution, if it were only +by way of change. It would at least prove an interesting experiment, +and it would be cheap at the price of the few unmissed thousands which +the millionaire would pay for it. To such an experiment I would be +willing to submit, if it were only to ascertain whether I have been +right or wrong in my supposition that I am better qualified by nature +than my fellows for the right administration of wealth; but there is +one thing I would never do, I would never undertake that laborious +quest of wealth, which robs men of the power to enjoy it when it is +obtained. + +It is there that the pinch comes; granted that some degree of +competence is needed for a free and various use of life, is it worth +while to destroy the power of living in attaining the means to live? +What is a man better for his wealth if he does not know how to use it? +A fool may steal a ship, but it takes a wise man to navigate her +towards the islands of the Blest. I am told sometimes that there is a +romance in business; no doubt there is, but it is pretty often the +romance of piracy; and the pleasures of the rich man are very often +nothing better than the pleasures of the pirate: a barbaric wading in +gold, a reckless piling up of treasure, which he has not the sense to +use. As long as there are shouting crews upon the sea and flaming +ships, he is happy; but give him at last the gold which he has striven +to win, and he knows nothing better than to sit like the successful +pirate in a common ale-house, and make his boast to boon companions. I +believe that the dullest men in all the world are very rich men; and I +have sometimes thought that it cannot need a very high order of +intelligence to acquire wealth, since some of the meanest of mankind +appear to prosper at the business. A certain vulpine shrewdness of +intelligence seems the thing most needed, and this may coexist with a +general dulness of mind which would disgrace a savage. + +The thing that is least perceived about wealth is that all pleasure in +money ends at the point where economy becomes unnecessary. The man who +can buy anything he covets, without any consultation with his banker, +values nothing that he buys. There is a subtle pleasure in the +extravagance that contests with prudence; in the anxious debates which +we hold with ourselves whether we can or cannot afford a certain thing; +in our attempts to justify our wisdom; in the risk and recklessness of +our operations; in the long deferred and final joy of our possession; +but this is a kind of pleasure which the man of boundless means never +knows. The buying of pictures affords us an excellent illustration on +this point. Men of the type of Balzac's _Cousin Pons_ attain to +rapture in the process because they are poor. They have to walk weary +miles and wait long weeks to get upon the track of their treasure; to +use all their knowledge of art and men to circumvent the malignity of +dealers; to experience the extremes of trepidation and of hope; to deny +themselves comforts, and perhaps food, that they may pay the price +which has at last, after infinite dispute, reached an irreducible +minimum; and the pleasure of their possession is in the ratio of their +pains. But the man who enters a sale-room with the knowledge that he +can have everything he wishes by the signing of a cheque feels none of +these emotions. It seems to me that money has lost more than half its +value since cheques became common. When men kept their gold in iron +coffers, lock-fast cupboards, or a pot buried in an orchard, there was +something tangible in wealth. When it came to counting out gold pieces +in a bag, men remembered by what sweat of mind or body wealth was won, +and they had a sense of parting with something which was really theirs. +But a cheque has never yet impressed me with the least sense of its +intrinsic value. It is a thing so trivial and fragile that the mind +refuses to regard it as the equivalent of lands and houses and solid +bullion. It is a thing incredible to reason that with a stroke of the +pen a man may sign away his thousands. If cheques were prohibited by +law, and all payments made in good coin of the realm, I believe we +should all be much more careful in our expenditure, for we should have +at least some true symbol of what expenditure implies. + +In an ideal state all incomes beyond 10,000 pounds per year should be +prohibited. Almost all the real luxuries of life may be enjoyed on +half that sum; and even this is an excessive estimate. Such a +regulation would be of vast advantage to the rich, simply because it +would impose some limit at which economy commenced. They would then +begin to enjoy their wealth. Avarice would decline, for obviously it +would not be worth while to accumulate a larger fortune than the State +permitted. We might also expect some improvement in manners, for there +would be no room for that vulgar ostentation in which excessive wealth +delights. If a man chose to exceed the limit which the law prescribed +he would do so as a public benefactor; for, of course, the excess of +wealth would be applied to the good of the community, in the relief of +taxation, the adornment of cities, or the establishment of libraries +and art-galleries. It would no doubt be objected that the great +historic houses of the aristocracy could not be maintained on such an +income; five thousand pounds a year would hardly pay the servants on a +great estate, and provide the upkeep of a mansion. But in this case +the State would become the custodian of such houses, which would be +treated as national palaces. It is by no means improbable that their +present owners would be glad to be rid of them on generous terms, which +provided for a nominal ownership and an occasional occupation. However +this may be, it is certain that the rich would profit by the change, +for their chance of getting the most and best out of life would be much +increased by the limit put upon cupidity and ostentation. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +GETTING A LIVING, AND LIVING + +Getting the best and most out of life, I take to be the most rational +object of human existence. Even religion, although it affects to scorn +the phrase, admits the fact; for no man would be religious unless he +were convinced that he thereby added something to his store of +happiness. It is a matter of temperament whether a man treats religion +as a panacea for his mortal troubles, or the 'Open Sesame' of brighter +worlds, but it is quite certain that he regards it as a means of +happiness. I cannot doubt that the anchorites, ascetics, and +cloistered nuns of mediaeval times were happy in their own way, +although it was in a fashion that appears to us highly foolish and +absurd. Even a St. Stylites had his consolations; he was kept warm +upon his pillar by the comfortable sense of his superiority to his +wicked fellow-creatures. + +To get the best out of life there must be some adequate fulfilment of +one's best self. Man is a bundle of tastes and appetites, some lofty, +and some ignoble, but all crying out for satisfaction. Wisdom lies in +the discernment of essentials; in just discrimination between false and +true tastes. Man has been a long time upon the earth, and he has spent +his time for the most part in one ceaseless experiment, viz., how he +may become a satisfactory creature in his own eyes. All civilisations +converge upon this point; and we maybe sure that, in their lonely hours +of meditation, the fantastic warder on the great wall of China, and the +Roman soldier pacing to and fro in the porticoes of the Palatine, had +much the same thoughts. Whosoever speaks to man on the art of becoming +happy is secure of a hearing; even though he be the vilest of quacks he +will have his following, even though he were the worst of scoundrels +some will take him for a prophet. In short, we are all the dupes of +hope, and it needs some experience to assure us that our only real hope +is in ourselves. In our own hearts lies the Eldorado which we scour +the world to find; could we but fulfil our best selves we should ask no +other happiness. + +The question that soon comes to obtrude itself upon the mind of a +thoughtful man in a great city, is this old persistent question of +whether his method of life is such as to answer to the ideal of +fulfilling his best self? It seemed to me that the inhabitants of +cities were too busy getting a living to have time to live. + +Let us take the life of the average business man by way of example. +Such a man will rise early, sleep late, and eat the bread of +carefulness, if he means to succeed. He will probably live--or be said +to live--in some suburb more or less remote from the roaring centre of +affairs. The first light of the winter dawn will see him alert; +breakfast is a hurried passover performance; a certain train must be +caught at all hazard to digestion, and the most leisured moments of the +day will be those he passes in the railway carriage. Once arrived at +his office he must plunge into the vortex of business; do battle with a +thousand rivalries and competitions; day after day must labour in the +same wearisome pursuits, content, perhaps, if at the end of the year he +shall have escaped as by a miracle commercial shipwreck. He will come +back to his residence, night after night, a tired man; not pleasantly +wearied with pursuits which have exercised his complete powers, but +tired to the point of dejection by the narrowness and monotony of his +pursuits. I say he returns to his residence; I scorn to say his home, +for the house he rents is merely the barrack where he sleeps. Of the +life that goes on within this house, which is nominally his, he knows +nothing. In its daily ordering, or even in its external features, he +has no part. He has chosen no item of its furniture; he has had no +hand in its decoration; he has but paid the tradesmen's bills. His +children scarcely know him; they are asleep when he goes off in the +morning, and asleep when he returns at night; he is to them the strange +man who sits at the head of the table once a week and carves the Sunday +joint. It is well for them if they have a mother who possesses gifts +of government, sympathy, and patient comprehension, for it is clear +that they have no father. He gets a living, and perhaps in time an +ample living; but does he live? + +It may be said that this picture is exaggerated; on the contrary, I +think it is under-estimated. I have myself known men whose average +daily absence from 'home' is twelve hours; they disappear by the eight +o'clock morning train, and in times of special business pressure it is +not far from midnight when they return. The trains, cabs, and public +vehicles of London convey, day by day, one million three hundred +thousand of these homeless men to their employments in the city. Here +and there a wise man may be found who resents this tyranny of +suburbanism. I know a young business man, who also chances to possess +domestic instincts, for whom suburbanism grew so intolerable that he +took a house in the very heart of London, that he might lunch and dine +with his wife at his own table without neglecting his business +interests. He was a wise man, but he is the only one I know. Counting +the time passed at luncheon and dinner, the later departure in the +morning, and the earlier arrival at night, he is the clear gainer, day +by day, of three to four hours of domestic intercourse. At the end of +the week he has thus added to the credit of his family life +four-and-twenty hours; at the end of a year he has enjoyed more than +fifty full days of domestic intercourse which would have been forfeited +had he continued to live at Surbiton. He has also saved money, for +though the rent he pays in Central London is more than the rent he paid +at Surbiton, yet he has saved the expense of his season-ticket, +lunches, and occasional dinners at a club or restaurant, and cabs to +Waterloo when he was pressed for time. But it is quite vain to urge +such considerations on the average man of business. He would tell you +frankly that nothing would induce him to live in a house within a +stone's-throw of Leicester Square, although it is a far better built +and more comfortable house than the gimcrack villa which he rents at +Surbiton. The gain in domestic intercourse would not attract him, for +he has long ago lost taste for it; and the privilege of lunching with +his family would repel him, for he is deeply suspicious of the virtues +of domestic cookery. Nor, I suppose, would it influence him to tell +him that by living in Central London, he could command without +inconvenience the full attractions of the town, such as concerts, +lectures, theatres, or those special assemblies which are +representative of London life; for he desires nothing of the kind. +Considerations of economy might affect him, but with all his skill at +figures he seldom has the sense to see that the moiety of income paid +yearly to the railway, by himself and his family, goes a long way +toward the doubling of his rent. In short, suburbanism is his fetish; +it is the keynote of his poor respectability, and he is not to be +diverted from it by any reasons which a sane man would regard as +considerable, if not imperative. + +The most usual excuse of suburbanism is that it is a good thing for the +wife and family of a business man, though it is a bad thing for him. +It is singular that no one seems to recognise the gross selfishness of +this plea. It is like the plea of the vivisectionist, that vivisection +is a bad thing for a rabbit, but a very good thing for humanity, since +humanity profits by the torture of the rabbit. But for my part I doubt +whether there is any real profit to anybody in suburbanism. There is a +town life, and there is a country life, each of which has peculiar +compensations of its own; but suburbanism is a miserable compromise, +which like most compromises combines not the qualities but the defects +of two antagonisms. Its worst effect is that it sets up in one family +two standards of life, which have nothing in common. After a while it +must happen that there is a serious estrangement of taste, and it is +not surprising if this often leads to a much more serious estrangement +of affection. The air of Surbiton may be a little fresher than the air +of Bloomsbury, but what does this count for if the atmosphere of the +hearth be poisoned? Moreover, among the Anglo-Saxon peoples women are +not encouraged to take any vital interest in the pursuits of their +husbands as they are among the Latin races. I should not be surprised +to find that half the women in the London suburbs do not know the +precise nature of their husbands' occupations. A French woman of the +bourgeois class often has a real aptitude for business. She can manage +a shop, keep accounts, take an interest in markets, and in all +questions of commercial enterprise she is the confidante, and often the +adviser, of her husband. Your English woman of the same class prides +herself rather on her total ignorance of business. It is probable that +in twenty years of married life she has not once visited the warehouse +or the office where her husband earns the income which she spends. She +is 'provided for without the sweet sense of providing.' She sees her +husband elated or depressed by things that have happened in the city; +but to her the reasons of his hope or fear are not communicated, nor +would she understand them if they were. His mind speaks a language +foreign to her; his daily operations in the city have for her only the +remote interest of things that have happened in a foreign country, +which appear too unreal to excite any sincere sympathy or apprehension. +Is this divided life good for either party? + +Were some curious observer from another planet to arrive in London, I +think few things would appear to him so extraordinary as a London +suburb at noonday. By ten o'clock in the morning at latest he would +see it denuded of all its male inhabitants. Like that fabulous realm +of Tennyson's _Princess_, it is a realm inhabited by women; and the +only male voice left in the land is the voice of the milk-boy on his +rounds, the necessary postman, and the innocuous grocer's tout. There +is something of the 'hushed seraglio' in these miles of trim houses, +from whose doors and windows only female faces look out. An air of +sensible bereavement lies upon the land. Woman, deprived of her lord +and natural complement, cuts but a poor figure anywhere, but nowhere so +poor as in a wide realm populous with grass widows. By what interests +or avocations, or by what delinquency of duty the tedious hours are +cheated, is not revealed to any male philosopher; but he is a poor +observer who does not recognise something unnatural in this one-sided +life. A few miles away the loud Niagara of London runs swift, and the +air vibrates with all the tumult of the strenuous life of man; but here +the air is dead, unwinnowed by any clamorous wind, unshaken by any +planetary motion. I cannot think this narrow separated life good for +woman, and I am surprised that in these days when woman claims equal +privilege with man, she will submit to it. In the act of getting a +living she also suffers, and loses something of the power to live. If +the distraction of the city hurts the man she is not less injured by +the torpor of the suburb. Let a woman be never so intelligent and +keenly wrought, a suburb will soon enfeeble her, and take the fine edge +off her spirit. Left to the sole society of nursemaids and cooks in +her own house for many hours a day; to the companionship of women +outside her house, whose conversation is mainly gossip about household +difficulties; to the tame diversions of shopping at the nearest +emporium; what power of interest in the larger things of life can be +expected of her? The suburb is her cloister, and she the dedicated +bride of littleness. + +This seems a hard saying, but it can easily be verified by observation. +I have myself known women, rich enough to keep a carriage, who had +never been so far as Hyde Park, never visited the National Gallery, and +never sought any finer music than could be furnished by a local +concert. For them, London as an entity did not exist. This +parochialism of suburban life is its most surprising feature. There is +after all some excuse for Mr. Grant Allen's description of London as an +aggregation of villages, when we find that so vast a number of +Londoners really live the life of villagers. But it is not patriotism +that binds them to the soil, nor local pride, as is the case with +genuine villagers; it is rather sheer inertia. Such pride, if it +existed, might do much for the regeneration of great cities, by +creating a series of eager and intelligent communities, which would vie +with one another in civic self-improvement; but this is just the kind +of pride which does not exist. No one cares how his suburb is +misgoverned, so long as rates are not too exorbitant. A suburb will +wake into momentary life to curb the liberal programmes of the +school-board, or to vote against the establishment of a free library; a +gross self-interest being thus the only variation of its apathy. It +soon falls asleep again, dulled into torpor by the fumes of its own +intolerant smugness. For much of this the element of family separation +in suburban life is answerable. The men pay their rates and house-rent +at Surbiton, but they live their real lives within hearing of the bell +of St. Paul's; how should they take any interest in Surbiton? After +all, Surbiton is to them but a vast caravansary, where they are lodged +and fed at night; and one does not inquire too closely into the +internal amenities of his hotel so long as the food is tolerable, and +the bed clean. + +Suburbanism is, however, but a branch, though an important branch, of +the larger question, whether in cities men do not ultimately sacrifice +the finer qualities and joys of life to the act of getting a living. +It will perhaps be said that the man with a true genius for business +must in any case live in a city; that he is not discontented with the +conditions of his life; that, all things being considered, he is +probably living the kind of life for which he is best fitted. May not +a writer, who is presumably a person of studious and quiet habits, +misinterpret the life of a business man precisely in the same way that +he misinterprets the life of the poor, by applying to it his own +standards instead of measuring it by theirs? Business, for the man of +business genius, is more than an employment; it is his epic, his +romance, his adventurous crusade. He brings to it something of the +statesman's prescience, the diplomatist's sagacity, the great captain's +power of organising victory. His days are battles, his life a long +campaign; and if he does not win the spoil of kingdoms, he does fight +for commercial supremacy, which comes to much the same thing. No doubt +there is much truth in this putting of the case, though it really begs +the main question. But even if we grant that in the larger operations +of commerce a certain type of genius is required, we must remember that +the men of this order are few in number. Every lord of commerce is +attended by a vast retinue of slaves. Very few of these humble +servitors of commerce can ever hope to rise from the ranks into supreme +command. They must labour to create the wealth of the successful +merchant as a private soldier suffers wounds and hardships that fame +may crown his general. Do these men share the higher privileges of +life? Is not life with them the getting of a living rather than +living? Nay, more; is it not the getting of a living for some one else? + +The merchant-prince fulfils himself, for his highest powers of +intelligence are daily taxed to the uttermost; but the case is very +different with that vast army of subordinates, whom we see marching +every morning in an infinite procession to the various warehouses and +offices of London. I have often wondered at their cheerfulness when I +have recollected the nature of their life. For they bring to their +daily tasks not the whole of themselves, but a mere segment of +themselves; some small industrious faculty which represents them, or +misrepresents them, at the tribunal of those who ask no better thing of +them. Few of them are doing the best that they can do, and they know +it. They are not doing it because the world does not ask them to do +it; indeed, the world takes care that they shall have no opportunity of +doing it. A certain faculty for arithmetic represents a man who has +many higher faculties; and thus the man is forced to live by one +capacity which is perhaps his least worthy and significant. This is +not the case in what we call the liberal professions and the arts. The +architect, the barrister, the humblest journalist needs his whole mind +for his task, and hence his work is a delight. The artist, if he be a +true artist, does the one thing that he was born to do, and so 'the +hours pass away untold, without chagrin, and without weariness,' nor +would he wish them to pass otherwise. Many times as I took my way to +the dreary labours of my desk I stopped to watch, and sometimes to talk +with, a smiling industrious little Frenchman, who repaired china and +bronzes in a dingy shop in Welbeck Street. He was an expert at his +trade; knew all the distinctive marks of old china, and could assign +with certainty the right date of any piece of bronze he handled; and to +hear him discourse on these things would have been a liberal education +to a budding connoisseur. I never knew a man so indefatigably happy in +his work; his eye lit up at any special glow of colour or delicacy of +design; he used his tools as though he loved them; and if he dreamed at +night, I doubt not that his canopies were coloured with the hues of +Sevres, and that bronze angels from the hand of Benvenuto stood about +his bed. Plainly the man was happy because his work engaged his whole +attention; and to every cunning rivet that he fashioned he gave the +entire forces of his mind. Here was a man who not merely got a living +but lived; and I, chained to my desk, knew well enough that his life +was much more satisfactory than mine. + +Money has little to do with this problem of satisfactory living; I +think that this was the first discovery I made in the direction of a +better mode of life. My French workman earned perhaps two pounds a +week: I earned four or five; but he bought happiness with his work, +whereas I bought discontent and weariness. Money may be bought at too +dear a rate. The average citizen, if he did but know it, is always +buying money too dear. He earns, let us say, four hundred pounds a +year; but the larger proportion of this sum goes in what is called +'keeping up appearances.' He must live in a house at a certain rental; +by the time that his rates and taxes are paid he finds one-eighth of +his income at least has gone to provide a shelter for his head. A +cottage, at ten pounds a year, would have served him better, and would +have been equally commodious. He must needs send his children to some +private 'academy' for education, getting only bad education and high +charges for his pains; a village board-school at twopence a week would +have offered undeniable advantages. He must wear the black coat and +top-hat sacred to the clerking tribe; a tweed suit and cap are more +comfortable, and half the price. At all points he is the slave of +convention, and he pays a price for his convention out of all +proportion to its value. At a moderate estimate half the daily +expenditure of London is a sacrifice to the convention or imposture of +respectability. + +Unless a man have, however, a large endowment of that liberal +discontent which makes him perpetually examine and reexamine the +conditions of his life, he will be a long time before he even suspects +that he is the victim of artificial needs. When once the yoke of habit +is imposed, the shoulder soon accustoms itself to the bondage, and the +aches and bruises of initiation are forgotten. There are spasms of +disgust, moments of wise suspicion; but they are transient, and men +soon come to regard a city as the prison from whence there is no +escape. But is no escape possible? That was the question which +pressed more and more upon me as the years went on. I saw that the +crux of the whole problem was economic, I knew that I was not the +gainer by a larger income, if I could buy a more real satisfaction on +less income. I saw that it was the artificial needs of life that made +me a slave; the real needs of life were few. A cottage and a hundred +pounds a year in a village meant happiness and independence; but dared +I sacrifice twice or thrice the income to secure it? The debate went +on for years, and it was ended only when I applied to it one fixed and +reasoned principle. That principle was that my first business as a +rational creature was _not to get a living but to live_; and that I was +a fool to sacrifice the power of living in securing the means of life. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +EARTH-HUNGER + +Like Charles II., who apologised for being so unconscionably long in +dying, I must apologise for being so long in coming to my point, which +is the possibility of buying happiness at a cheaper rate than London +offers it. As it took me twenty years of experience to make my +discovery, I may claim, however, that three chapters is no immoderate +amount of matter in which to describe it. My chief occupation through +these years was to keep my discontent alive. Satisfaction is the death +of progress, and I knew well that if I once acquiesced entirely in the +conditions of my life, my fate was sealed. + +I did not acquiesce, though the temper of my revolt was by no means +steady. There were times when--to reverse an ancient saying--the muddy +Jordan of London life seemed more to me than all the sparkling waters +of Damascus. Humanity seemed indescribably majestic; and there were +moments when I sincerely felt that I would not exchange the trampled +causeways of the London streets for the greenest meadows that bordered +Rotha or Derwentwater. There were days of early summer when London +rose from her morning bath of mist in a splendour truly unapproachable; +when no music heard of man seemed comparable with the long diapason of +the crowded streets; when from morn to eve the hours ran with an +inconceivable gaiety and lightness, and the eye was in turn inebriated +with the hard glare and deep shadows of abundant light, with the +infinite contrasts of the streets, with the far-ranged dignity of domes +and towers swimming in the golden haze of midday, or melting in the +lilac mists of evening. I felt also, in this vast congregation of my +fellow-creatures, the exhilarating sense of my own insignificance. Of +what value were my own opinions, hopes, or programmes in this huge +concourse and confusion of opinion? Who cared what one human brain +chanced to think, where so many million brains were thinking? I was +swept on like a bubble in the stream, and I forgot my own +individuality. And this forgetfulness became a pleasure; the mind, +wearied of its own affairs, found delight in recollecting that the +things that seemed so great to it were after all of infinitesimal +importance in the general sum of things. + +Astronomy is often credited with providing this sensation; writers of +fiction especially are fond of explaining how the voyage of the eye +through space humbles the individual pride of man through the +oppression of magnitude and vastness. They might come nearer home, for +terrestrial magnitudes produce the same effect as celestial magnitudes; +the mind loses itself as readily in the abyss of London as in those +gulfs of chaos that open in the Milky Way, confronting the eye with +naked infinitude; and this sense of personal insignificance is at once +a horror and a joy. That humble acquiescence of the Londoner in his +fate which we call his apathy, is the natural consequence of an +overwhelming sense of personal insignificance. The great reformer +should be country-born; in the solitude of nature he may come to think +himself significant, and have faith in those thoughts and intuitions +which no one contradicts. But in London, collective life, by its mere +immensity, overwhelms individual life so completely that no audacity or +arrogance of genius can supply that continuous and firm faith in +himself which the reformer must possess. + +If I resisted these debilitating influences, it was through no +particular virtue of my own: it was rather through what I may call a +kind of earth-hunger. I had an obstinate craving for fresh air, +unimpeded movement, outdoor life. I wanted the earth, and I wanted to +live in the close embrace of the earth. Some ancestor of mine must +have been a hermit on a mountain, a gipsy, or a peasant: I know not +which, but something of the temperament of all three had been +bequeathed to me. The smell of fresh-turned earth was a smell that +revived in me a portion of my nature that had seemed dead; a flower set +me dreaming of solitary woods; and I found myself watching clouds and +weather-signs as though my bread depended on their lenience. The first +time I saw a mountain I burst into tears, an act which astonished me no +less than my companions. I could offer no explanation of my conduct, +but I felt as though the mountain called me. I said to myself, 'There +is my home, yonder is the earth of which my corporeal part is +fashioned; it is there that I should live and die.' Even a London park +in the first freshness of a summer morning produced these sensations; +and those rare excursions which I took into the genuine country left me +aching for days afterwards with an exquisite pain. I often imagined +myself living as Wordsworth did in Dove Cottage, as Thoreau did in the +Walden Woods, and the vision was delightful. I took an agricultural +paper, and read it diligently, not because it was of the least +practical utility to me, but because its simple details of country life +seemed to me a kind of poetry. In my rambles I never saw a lovely site +without at once going to work to build an imaginary cottage on it, and +the views I had from the windows of my dream-cottages were more real to +me than the actual prospects on which I looked every day. I have even +gone so far as to seek the offices of land-agents, and haggle over the +price of land which I never meant to buy, for the mere pleasure of +fancying it was mine; and this kind of game was long pursued, for +land-agents are a numerous tribe, and when one discovered my imposture, +there was always another ready to accept me as a capitalist in search +of the picturesque. In short, to possess one small fragment of the +world's surface; to have a hut, a cabin, or a cottage that was verily +my own, to eat the fruits of my own labour on the soil--this seemed to +me the crown and goal of all human felicity. Conscript of the city as +I was, drilled and driven daily in the grim barrack-yard of despotic +civilisation, yet I was a deserter at heart; an earth-hunger as +rapacious and intense as that of any French or Irish peasant burned in +my bones, and, like the peasant conscript that I truly was, my dreams +were all of green pastures and running streams, and the happy +loneliness of open spaces under open skies. + +This kind of earth-hunger is, I believe, not common among English +people to-day; if it were, the tide of life would not set so steadily +townward as it does. The class in which it existed most strongly was +the yeoman class, and this is a class which has practically +disappeared. In my youth I knew half a dozen persons of this class, to +whom towns were genuinely abhorrent. They would come to London once or +twice in their lives, visit certain market towns in their district at +intervals, and escape back into the country with the joy of wild birds +liberated from a cage. The mere grime and dirt of cities horrified +them; they were suffocated in the close air, and they were driven half +distracted by the clamour of the streets. These men lived, upon the +whole, lives of not immoderate labour: or, as one might say, of sober +ease, They possessed little money, it is true, but the want of it did +not appear to trouble them. Their houses were plain, their method of +life simple, and clearly it had not entered their minds to covet any +more sumptuous modes of life. All this is changed now. The daily +press, which presents a thousand pictures of the bustling life of +cities, goes everywhere, and has communicated a strange restlessness to +the rural mind. Increased means of locomotion have brought London to +the very door of village communities. If men to-day actually possessed +the acres on which they toil they would be in no hurry to leave them; +they would be effectually chained to the soil by the sense of +independence and proprietorship, as is the case among the rural +population of France, who do not rent but own the land. The yeomen did +own the land, and that was the secret of their content. But when the +day of large farms came, the small landowners were crushed out; and as +for the mere peasant, he has no chance at all of ever owning land, and +never has had; so that he has every inducement to crowd into towns +where wages are nominally higher, and he soon outgrows that natural +earth-hunger which modern civilisation affords him no means of +gratifying. + +By virtue of the peasant or gipsy blood in me I kept my earth-hunger +through twenty years of London life, but I count my case unique. I +never found any one who shared my feelings; on the contrary, I found +that whatever primitive instincts toward country life my friends may +have had once, London had made an effectual end of them. The country +means for most Londoners, not the blessed solitude of open spaces, but +Margate or Brighton. When the annual summer exodus arrives he does +but exchange one kind of town for another kind. He carries with him +all the aptitudes and artificial instincts of the town; he loves the +bustle of a crowd; he wants boarding-houses full of company, and +streets brilliant with electric light; and he returns to town, after a +vivacious fortnight, without having once looked upon the real country, +unless it be with the distracted eye of a rider on a _char-a-banc_. If +my earth-hunger did not die in London, it was mainly because my +holidays were of a very different description. I never visited but one +watering-place, and that was enough. I never stayed in a +boarding-house in my life, nor would the promise of all my expenses +paid and a handsome bonus into the bargain tempt me to the experiment. +I sought the country absolute; a cottage or a little farm remote from +towns and out of sound of railways; villages so tiny that maps refuse +to name them. I can count half a dozen of these places which haunt my +memory with all the sanctity of some religious dream. They were my +temporary cloisters, where I received the sacrament of silence; the +woodland sanctuaries where my spirit was renewed. When my friends +returned from Margate they were full of chatter about the people that +they had met, and they went about whistling the last song they had +heard upon the beach. I had met no one but a few simple labouring +folk, and the music I remembered was the whistling of blackbirds and +thrushes in the early dawn. I knew that I had purchased much finer +pleasure in a single day, and at a cheaper rate, than they in a month +of days; but I never told them so, for they would not have understood +me. The ear that hungers for the raucous strains of cockney Pierrots +on a beach cannot attune itself to the notes of the morning thrush. + +There is one tiny farm that I love to think of, because its tenants +taught me better than a thousand books could have done how real was the +felicity of simple life. It had six rooms all told, and was little +better than a cottage. Before its door ran a clear river which +connected two lakes; a pinewood rose behind the house, and behind this +again the lower buttresses of the everlasting hills. The nearest town +was seven miles away; you reached it by a lovely road, in part through +pinewoods, in part over open moors, with the silver flashing of a lake +never far away, and the purple mountains always close at hand. The +farm-holding was insignificantly small, as was the case in those parts; +but my host uttered no word of its insufficiency. He grew enough oats +to provide good oatmeal for his family and fodder for his horse; his +potatoes also came from his own soil, and his bacon from his own stye; +his few sheep gave him fresh meat, or brought him a little money in the +market, and from their wool every blanket in the house was spun, and +even his own clothing woven. Two cows provided milk and butter for the +household; his fowls gave him eggs and occasionally a dinner; and thus +with the exception of the yearly grocer's bill he spent next to no +money. I dwelt beneath this humble roof for a month, and I profess +that in all that time I never saw the members of the household engaged +in any labour that was not also a pleasure. There was plenty of work, +of course: cows to be milked, vegetables to be dug and cleansed, meals +to be prepared, the little harvest to be gathered in; but it was work +that one could do with singing. No one hurried over it, for there was +ample time for every duty of the day. No one felt these simple duties +burdensome, because they were so natural and inevitable, It was a rare +day when some member of the household did not find an hour or two for +fishing, and a disappointing breakfast that did not show a lordly dish +of trout. + +It may be imagined that in a place so remote culture would be +missing--at least the love and knowledge of books which we call +culture; but when I say the place was Scotch this delusion is disposed +of. The children had had to walk that long seven miles a day and back +again, in all weathers, to obtain an education. They had grown up to +value it, and were the better mentally as well as physically for their +thousands of miles of tramping. There were books in the little +household, and good books too. As often as not when we sat round the +red peats of an evening, we discussed Browning or Herbert Spencer. +That year it happened that a party of students from Edinburgh +University were camping in the neighbourhood, and they often joined us +round the farm fire of an evening. They talked about books and +opinions and men with all the omniscience of youth; but the two girls +of the household held their own with them. Ah, Kate M'Intyre, you did +me much friendly service in tying flies for me that summer, and +teaching me something of the craft of fishing; but you did a far more +enduring service in helping me to see that one does not need towns and +libraries to grow the fine flower of wholesome cultured womanhood. +Here, beside that lake, whose lady has been made immortal by the hand +of Scott, you showed me that God grows ladies still who wear homespun +and live in cottages, and are all the wiser and sweeter for the bright +seclusion of their lives. In a town, you and your family, endowed only +with such means as you found sufficient for existence, would have been +despondent drudges, you yourself perhaps working in a sewing-room in +bad air and for poor pay, but here you were the free-holders of nature. +Never did I see you go about your simple duties--always with a bright +look and a snatch of song--but I said to myself, 'She hath chosen the +better part, which shall not be taken away from her'; and I say it +still, though I am well aware that the smart young women of London +shops and restaurants will not believe me. I dare say they would count +themselves much better off than you in money, in dress, and in +opportunities of pleasure; but I know who was the richer in vitality, +in health, and in the power of happiness. + +When I lived among these simple folk I shared not only their roof but +their labours, and it was thus I came to distinguish between the nature +of work in cities and work in the country. To obtain my meal in a city +I had to do things that were distasteful to me; I had to shut myself +away from the fresh air and sunlight in a dingy room and to spend dull +hours in tasks which afforded me no genuine intellectual pleasure. +Here, on the contrary, every duty had a pastime yoked with it. I rose +early, not only that I might learn to milk the cows, but that I might +see the sunrise; if I went into the woods to saw logs that would +presently make a clear flame on the evening fire, my lungs drank health +among the forest fragrances; when I went fishing I did something not +only pleasurable but useful, for I added dainties to my larder. In the +city I lived to work; here I worked to live. I might go further and +say that in the city I lived to work for other people, for my brains +were daily exploited that my master might maintain a house at +Kensington, and when the landlord, the water-lord, the light-lord, and +the rate-collector had all had their dues from me there was little +enough left that I could call my own. Here, on the contrary, all that +I did had an immediate and direct relation to my own well-being. The +amount of work I had to do to live was light, and I bought with it +something that was my own. We are so used to the exactions of a +complicated and artificial life, that it is an amazing discovery to +ascertain how small is the toll of labour which Nature asks of those +who live naturally. You have but to do certain things which in +themselves are pleasures to obtain ample means of life; and as these +things are soon and easily done by a healthy human creature there is an +abundant leisure at his command. To split pine-logs, dig a garden, +pull a heavy boat down the lake after fish, tramp up the hillside to +collect the sheep, are simply so many exercises of the body, the +equivalents of which town youths find in the gymnasium or the football +field; the difference is that all this exertion in the gymnasium, which +the town youth takes to keep up his health, would in the country _keep +him_. The same amount of muscular exertion which a town youth puts +forth to chase a ball round a twenty acre field would, if properly +applied, put a roof over his head and food on his table. The sports of +the civilised man are means of life to the natural man. If a man must +needs sweat, and be bemired, and have an aching back, it is surely +better economy to have a house and a good meal at the end of it all +than merely a good appetite for a meal that he has yet to pay for. I +do not object to buy health in hard physical exercise if I can buy it +in no other way; but I am better satisfied if I can buy health and a +meal at the same time and for the same price. This is practically what +is done every day by men who live in the country. In a town they would +undertake an equal amount of muscular exertion for the sake of health, +and would find that they still had 'to go to business' to live; here +they have done their business in doing their pleasure. + +Earth-hunger is without doubt the most wholesome passion men can +entertain, and if Governments were wise they would do all they could to +fortify and gratify it. On the contrary, the settled policy of English +Government is entirely hostile to it. There is no country where it is +so difficult to acquire freehold land in small quantities--a subject on +which I shall have more to say presently. Bad land-laws lie at the +back of what we call the urban tendencies of modern life. If fifty +years ago the Irish peasantry had had the same facilities for acquiring +land that they have to-day, it is safe to say that there would have +been little or no emigration, for never was there race that left the +land of its fathers with such bitter and entire reluctance as the +Irish. The English peasant shares the same reluctance, though his +slower nature is incapable of expressing it with the same volubility of +anguish. Give him enough land to live upon; make him a proprietor +instead of a serf; let him have fair railway rates, so that his produce +can fetch its proper price in the markets, and there were no man so +proud and so content as he. But this is just what the feudal laws of +England will not do for him; and so millions of acres fall out of +cultivation and farms go a-begging because the men who could have kept +them prosperous have been forced to sell their thews and muscles to be +prostituted in the dismal drudgeries of cities. + +There is an even worse result. Earth-hunger has been displaced by +Money-hunger. Simple ideas of life must needs perish where the nature +of a nation's life makes them difficult or impossible of attainment. A +country-born youth might keep to the soil, if he saw the slightest hope +that the soil would keep him; when he sees that this is impossible he +files to cities, because he believes that there is more gold to be +picked up in the city mire in a month than can be won from the ploughed +fallow in a year. It is not until the altars of Pan are overthrown +that the worship of Mammon is triumphant, and the mischief is that when +the great god Pan is driven away he returns no more. When once +Money-hunger seizes on a nation, that primitive and wholesome +Earth-hunger--old as the primal Eden, where man's life began--is +stifled at the birth; the spade and harrow rust, and instead of swords +being beaten to ploughshares, ploughshares are beaten into swords for +the use of soldiers who are the gladiators of commercial avarice; the +wealth of the country runs into the swamp of speculation; the scripture +of Nature is cast aside for the blotted pages of the betting-book; +sport becomes not a means of recreation but of gambling; and instead of +sturdy races bred upon the soil, and drawing from the soil solid +qualities of mind and body, you have blighted and anaemic races, bred +amid the populous disease of cities, and incapable of any task that +shall demand steady energy, continuous thought, or sober powers of +reflection or of will. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HEALTH AND ECONOMICS + +Enough has been said to show that I never heartily settled to a town +life, and that the obstacle to content was my own character. Mere +discontent with one's environment, however useful it may be as an +irritant to prevent stagnation and brutish acquiescence, obviously does +not carry one very far. Men may chafe for years at the conditions of +their lot without in any way attempting to amend them. I soon came to +see that I was in danger of falling into this condition of futility. I +was, therefore, forced to face the question whether my continual inward +protest against the kind of life which I led was founded on anything +more stable than an opinion or a sentiment? No man ever yet took a +positively heroic or original course for the sake of an opinion. +Opinion must become conviction before it has any potency to change the +ordering of life. I saw plainly that I must either bring my thoughts +to the point of conviction or discard them altogether. + +There is a good phrase which is sometimes used about men who are +members of a party, without in any way entering into its propagandist +aims--we say that they 'do not play the game.' They may have excellent +philosophic reasons for their aloofness, or even admirable scruples; +but parties do not ask for either. Parties ask for party loyalty, and +to give this loyalty personal scruples must be set aside. I could not +but apply this doctrine to my own state of mind. London asked me to +play the game, and I was not playing it. It was impossible to put +heart into a kind of life which I inwardly detested. I did my day's +work with a mind divided; and, although no one could accuse me of +wilful negligence, yet a child could see that my work missed that +quality of entire efficiency which makes for success. I might count +myself much superior to men like Arrowsmith by the possession of +superior sentiments, yet, in the long run, my sentiment debilitated me, +and his destitution of sentiment was a source of power to him in the +kind of work we both had to do. To the man who detests the nature of +his employment as I detested mine, I would say at once, either conquer +your detestation or change your work. Work that is not genuinely loved +cannot possibly be done well. It is no use chafing and fretting and +wishing that you lived in the country, if you know perfectly well that +you have not the least intention of living anywhere but in the town. +If it is town life you are really bent upon, the sooner rustic +instincts are uprooted the better for you. London can prove herself a +complaisant mistress to those who desire no other, but she will give +nothing to those who flout her in their hearts. In plain words there +is no middle course between accepting the yoke or finally rejecting it; +either course may be justified, but it is the silliest folly to accept +with complacency a yoke which you mean to shake off the moment you have +courage or opportunity to revolt. London marks such dissemblers with +an angry eye, as captains mark reluctant soldiers; and if time holds no +disgrace for them it will certainly bring them no advancement. + +Were my fine theories composed of mere fluid sentiment, or had they +some more consistent element in them which was capable of hardening +into invincible conviction? That was my problem. It was debated in +season and out of season. Gradually the two dominant factors in the +problem became evident; they were health and economics. + +There could be no question about health. It was true that I had +suffered from no serious illness in my life, but London kept me in a +normal state of low vitality. I had constant headaches, fits of +depression, and minor physical derangements. I rarely knew what it was +to wake in the morning with that clear joyousness of spirit which marks +vigorous vitality. A London winter I dreaded, and I had good reason +for my dread. When the fog lay on the town an unbearable oppression +lay also on my spirits. Imagination had little to do with this +oppression; it was the physical result of lack of oxygen. It was the +same with my children; they grew pinched and bleached in face, and went +about their little tasks with the slowness of old men. It is stated, I +believe, that London is the healthiest city in the world; no doubt it +is true as regards the actual percentage of disease to the immense +population, but statistics take no account of lowered vitality. +Without being actually ill, vitality may be reduced to a point at which +existence becomes a kind of misery. Alcohol dissolves for a time the +cloud on the mind, the incubus upon the energies; and the relief is so +great that men do not think of the price they pay for it. No wonder +public-houses are the landmarks of London locomotion; they are the +Temples of Oblivion, where the devitalised multitudes seek to forget +themselves, that they may regain the courage to live at all. + +For myself, I had sense to know that stimulants of this kind were a +remedy much worse than the disease. The only stimulant, at once safe +and effectual, which I needed was fresh air. The moment I found myself +among the hills a miraculous change was wrought in me. I had not +breathed that quick and vital air for an hour before a glow ran through +my veins more delightful, and much more enduring, than the glow of +wine. A single night in some small cottage chamber--where the very bed +had a cool scent of flowers and lawns, where the open window admitted +air fresh from pine forest and mountain streams, where the silence was +so deep that one's pulse seemed to tick aloud like a watch--and I awoke +a man renewed. Six o'clock, or even five, was not too soon for all my +little household to be astir. We were all alike eager for the open +air; for the walk, bare-footed, through the dewy grass to the mountain +pool; for the shock and thrill of that green water into which we +plunged delighted; and in those prolonged and pure ablations I think +our spirits shared. The bells of laughter rang the livelong day. The +cramped mind began to move again, and long abdicated powers of fancy +and of humour were restored. Equanimity of body brought evenness of +temper; it was incredible to recollect how irritable we had been with +one another in those ghastly days of London fog, when the very grating +of a chair along the floor made the nerves jump. Even the mind took +new edge, for though I did not read much upon a holiday, yet I found +that what I did read left a clearness of impression to which I had long +been unaccustomed. And what was the root and cause of all this +miracle? Fresh air, wholesome food, rude health--nothing more! To +feel that it is bliss to be alive, health alone is needed. And by +health I mean not the absence of physical ailment or disease, but a +high condition of vitality. This the country gave me; this the town +denied me. The only question was then, at what rate did I value the +boon? + +This brought me immediately to the much more complex problem of +economics. I knew that men could live in the country on small means, +for men did so; but I perceived that the art of living in the country +did not come by nature. Every one supposes that he can drive a horse +or grow potatoes; and, when we recollect how many thousands of men go +to Canada to take up agricultural pursuits without the least knowledge +of the business, it is clear that the belief is general that any man +can farm. I may claim the merit of freedom from this popular delusion. +I not only knew that I could not farm, but I did not wish to be a +farmer. What I wished was to live in the country in some modest way +that answered to my needs; to earn by some form of exertion a small +income; and at the most, to grow my own vegetables, catch my own fish, +and snare my own rabbits. + +A legacy of two hundred a year would have served my purpose admirably, +but modesty forbade me laying my case before benevolent millionaires, +and a destitution of maiden aunts put an end to any hopes of a bequest +by natural causes. + +What was my precise position then? I had a salary of two hundred and +fifty pounds a year. An investment that had turned out fortunately +gave me about forty pounds a year. I had done from time to time a +little work for the press, which had been worth to me about thirty +pounds a year more. My total budget showed, then, an annual income of +three hundred and twenty pounds, which I found barely sufficient for my +needs as a dweller in towns. If I migrated to a cottage, how would +matters stand with me? I should lose my two hundred and fifty pounds +per annum of course, and this was an alarming prospect. But, on the +other hand, I reminded myself that I had never really possessed it. I +prepared various tables in which I arranged the items of my expenditure +under two heads, viz. the expenditure that was inevitable, and the +expenditure that was evitable, because it was the result of town life. +I shall best explain by giving a sample of these tables:-- + + + TABLE I. + + INEVITABLE EXPENDITURE. L. s. d. + + Food and general household expenses, + calculated at 30s. per week . . . . . 78 0 0 + Books, magazines, and papers . . . . . . 5 0 0 + Clothes for two adults and two children . 20 0 0 + Insurances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 0 0 + Holidays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 0 0 + Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 0 0 + Sundries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 0 0 + Rent, rates, and taxes . . . . . . . . . 65 0 0 + ---------- + L268 0 0 + + TABLE II. + + EVITABLE EXPENDITURE. + + If I adopted a country life. L. s. d. + + Holidays . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 0 0 + By saving on rent, rates, and taxes, + calculating my cottage cost me not + more than L20 per annum . . . . . . . 45 0 0 + By saving in food . . . . . . . . . . . 20 0 0 + ---------- + L95 0 0 + + +It will be seen that I allowed no reduction in clothes and books, for I +did not wish my children to be dressed as beggars, or to be ignorant of +current literature. + +It does not need the eye of a chartered accountant to perceive that +whatever may be said for Table II., Table I. is not satisfactory. In +it I accounted for only 268 pounds, whereas I have already stated my +total income was 320 pounds. What became of the 52 pounds which found +no record in my ingenuous schedule? I could not tell, but I was pretty +sure that it was absorbed in the petty wastefulness of town life. +Londoners are so accustomed to constant daily expenditure in small +ways, that it occurs to no one to ascertain how considerable an +encroachment this aggregate expenditure is upon the total yearly +income. In all but very fine weather I must needs use some means of +public conveyance every day; there was a daily lunch to be provided; +and when work kept me late at the office there was tea as well. One +can lunch comfortably on a shilling or eighteenpence a day; and I knew +places where I could have lunched for much less, but they were in parts +of the town which I could not reach in the brief time at my disposal. +Moreover, one must needs be the slave of etiquette even though he be a +clerk, and if all the staff of an office frequent a certain restaurant, +one must perforce fall into line with them under penalty of social +ostracism. Thus, whether I liked it or not, for five days in the week +I had to spend eighteenpence a day for lunch, and fourpence for teas; +and if we add those small gratuities which the poorest men take it as a +point of honour to observe, here was an annual expenditure of 25 +pounds. Taking one thing with another 5 pounds might be added for 'bus +and railway fares; so that only 22 pounds is left to be accounted for. +And now, if we return to Table II., it is obvious that my income of 320 +pounds per annum was only nominal, because a very great part of it was +really spent in keeping up a position which a town life imposed upon +me. Before I touched a single penny of my nominal income of 250 pounds +per annum, I had paid 30 pounds per year in the daily expenses +inevitable to my position, and 65 pounds for rent and taxes, which was +quite 45 pounds more than I ought to pay. Education comes also to be +considered at this point. My two children went to a very respectable +school at the cost of a little more than 15 pounds per annum each. No +doubt I might have sent them to a Board school, where they would have +received a better education; but in the part of London where I lived +there was no Board school within easy reach, and besides this, though I +hate the pretension of gentility, manners and companionship have to be +considered as well as education in the choice of a school. A child may +take no harm by sitting on the same bench with village children, but +the London gamin is not a desirable acquaintance. In this, as in other +matters, I paid through the nose for my position; and the convention +cost me a clear 35 pounds per annum. Thus I calculated that out of a +nominal income of 250 pounds per annum 100 pounds was paid as a tax to +convention and respectability. + +I have no doubt that a good many flaws may be found in these +calculations; but one point is beyond dispute, viz., that a town income +is always more apparent than real. Money is worth no more than its +purchasing power. The business man who is offered 1000 pounds per +annum in New York against 700 pounds per annum in London, refuses the +offer unless it carries with it great contingent advantages, because he +knows perfectly well that 700 pounds a year in London is worth a good +deal more than 1000 pounds a year in New York. But the same kind of +prudent calculation is seldom applied to the case of town versus +country living at home. It is impossible to persuade the labourer that +a pound a week in London is really less than fifteen shillings a week +in the country. Men are dazzled by mere figures, and there is no +country clerk who would not jump at the idea of a fifty pounds a year +rise in London, though ten minutes spent over a sum in addition and +subtraction would be sufficient to assure him that he would not be +enlarging his income but diminishing it. A man has to live upon a +certain scale suited to his needs and tastes, but the income which +makes this kind of life possible is a variable quantity. It is not by +what men earn in the aggregate that their incomes should be measured, +but by what they have left when the necessary cost of living is +defrayed. If it costs a man fifty pounds a year more to live in London +than in the country, he is obviously no better off by the extra fifty +pounds he earns in London. He is not earning fifty pounds for himself +but fifty pounds for the landlord, the rate-collector, the gas-man, the +restaurant proprietor, the omnibus and railway companies. His gold +never reaches his own pocket; it is filched from him by dexterous +thieves; it gleams before him for an instant like the coin spun in the +air by the conjurer or thimble-rigger, and then vanishes for ever. Yet +I have found few men keen enough to penetrate the delusion; it would +seem they love to be deluded, and by their conduct justify the satiric +lines of _Hudibras_-- + + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + To cheated be as 'tis to cheat. + +In most things I claim to be no wiser than my fellow-men, but in this I +knew myself wiser; I knew where I was cheated. I knew that the +schoolmaster who cost me thirty pounds a year was a licensed footpad; +half the money spent in restaurants and tea-shops was blackmail paid to +respectability; the landlord who took his forty-five pounds a year from +my pocket was a mere robber, who took advantage of the need I had to +live in a certain locality that I might attend to my vocation. Not +only were my brains exploited that my employer might maintain a +sumptuous house at Kensington, but the wage he paid me was exploited by +a host of other people, who had houses of their own to maintain. +Before I could feed my children I must help to pay for and cook the +dinner of the folk who lived on the dividends of railways and omnibus +companies. On the way to my office the tailor took toll of me by +forcing me to wear a garb which I detested, simply because I dared wear +no other garb. I could not even drink plain water but that some one +was the richer. I was the common gull of the thing called convention. +I was plucked to the skin, and if my skin had been worth turning into +leather, some one would have put in a claim to that. Even for my skin, +poor asset as it was, some one did wait, when it had ceased to be of +use to me, for London cemeteries declare dividends upon the dead. My +case reminded me of an old gentleman I once knew, who wore so many +coats, waistcoats, and shirts to keep warmth in a body of singular +attenuation, that it was commonly said that by the time James Smith +undressed at night there was very little James Smith that was +discoverable. Certainly by the time London had done wringing gold out +of me there was very little gold left that was my own. + +There was, however, one kind of comfort to be deduced from these +reflections; if I was not nearly so well off as I appeared to be, I had +all the less to lose. Rightly considered it would not be 250 pounds +per annum that I should lose by leaving London, for I had never +possessed that sum, I calculated my real loss at something nearer 150 +pounds, and this seemed not so terrible a thing. I had my forty pounds +a year for certain. I had the small earnings of my pen, and with +abundant time upon my hands I saw every reason why these should be +increased. Could I face a new kind of life upon an income of seventy +pounds per annum? Ah, how anxiously that problem was debated with my +wife, many a night when the children were abed! The natural +conservatism of woman had a great deal to say in these debates. 'It +was all very well,' said my wife, 'to do these little sums on paper, +but suppose the facts did not correspond? Suppose I found no cottage +at twenty pounds a year, and no decent school at sixpence a week? Then +the world was full of writers for the press.' (I frowned.) 'Not of +course like you, not half so good,' she added with a smile, 'but how do +you know that you will succeed? Show me a fixed income of 100 pounds a +year, and I would chance it, for I can live simply enough,' she would +say, 'and am as fond of liberty as you.' + +She might have added what I knew to be true, that the penalties of +London life fell heavier upon her than me. I was not insensible to the +instantaneous lightening of spirits that happened with her when she was +able to forsake the abominable purlieus of the cellar-kitchen where her +life was spent; and although I knew not half her toils, nor half her +dejections and anxieties, which were sedulously kept from me, yet I was +not wholly blind. I had seen her too amid the roses of a cottage +garden flying the colour of long-forgotten roses in her cheeks; in the +hay-field shaking off a dozen years in as many hours; and although she +was always young to me, she never seemed so young and sweet as when we +walked a honeysuckled lane together. Her desire was with me I knew +well; she had no fear of poverty, and would have been content with +plainer fare than I; but her children made her prudent. + +At last the one thing happened which made her prudence coincide with +her desires; one of the children sickened with a languor that was the +precursor of disease, and the doctors said that only country air could +bring back strength. And then fate itself took the whole matter out of +my control. Something happened in the city--I know not what--and the +firm I served came near to shipwreck. Business shrank to a diminished +channel, and the staff of clerks must needs be reduced. I have said +some hard words of my employer as the exploiter of my labour; he will +appear no more in this history, and my last word about him shall be +justly kind. He broke the news of his misfortune to me with a delicacy +that made me respect him, and with a hesitating painful shame that made +me pity him. He praised me beyond my merit for my twenty years of +service; he had hoped to keep me with him for another twenty years, and +I believe he spoke the truth when he said it pained him to think that +his misfortunes should be mine. He handed me in silence a cheque for +fifty pounds. He then shook my hand heartily, murmured some vague +words about hoping to reinstate me if things should mend, and hurried +from me; and in his broken look and bowed shoulders I read the prophecy +that his days of fortune and success were gone for ever. The little +tragedy was played out in less than ten minutes. I locked my desk, put +on my hat and coat, and went out into the street; and my heart felt a +pang at leaving the place which I should never have imagined possible. +I had walked fully half a mile before another thought occurred to me. +My blood suddenly sang in my veins, and I remembered that I was an +emancipated slave; at last I was Free! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE + +I was free, but what was I to do with my freedom? Ingenious apologists +for slavery used to argue that the slave was much happier as a bondman +than a freeman, as long as the conditions of his bondage were not +unendurably harsh: but no one ever knew a slave who held this creed. +There never was a slave who did not prefer his dinner of herbs, earned +by his own labour, to the stalled ox of luxurious captivity. For my +part, I thought the air never tasted so sweet as on that morning of my +liberation. I walked slowly, drawing long breaths, that I might taste +its full relish, as a connoisseur passes an exquisite and rare wine +over his palate, that he may discriminate its subtleties. I became a +lounger, and took the pavement with the air of a gentleman at ease. I +wandered into Hyde Park, paid my penny for a seat, and sat down almost +dizzy with the unaccustomed thought that there was not a human being in +the universe who, at that moment, had the smallest claim to make upon +my time or energy. An hour passed in a kind of ecstatic dream. It +chanced to be a morning when Queen Victoria was driving from Paddington +to Buckingham Palace, and every instant the throng of carriages +increased. Standing on my seat, I saw an immense lane of people, +silent as a wood; a contagious shiver stirred them, like a gust of wind +amongst the leaves; I saw the distant glitter of helmets and cuirasses, +and the pageant swept along with that one tired, kindly, homely face +for its centre of attraction, luring loyalty even from a heart so +republican as mine by its air of patient weariness. I thought, and I +believed the thought sincere, that I would not have exchanged places +with her who was the mistress of so many peoples, the Empress of such +indeterminable Empire. My new-born loyalty was three-parts pity. Had +she, who sat there in such 'lonely splendour,' ever known the day, +since as a young girl the heavy rod of empire was intrusted to her +frail and unaccustomed hands, when she woke to say, 'This day I am +free, I will go where I will, do as I please, and none shall stay me?' +Yet I, a manumitted clerk, had come upon this singular and glad day; +and I had it in my heart to say with Emerson, 'Give me health and a +day, and I will make the pomp of empire ridiculous.' + +I turned slowly homeward in this glow of exultation. I should have +run, for the news, either good or evil, called for instant +communication. Let my delay stand excused; I had certain matters to be +settled with myself that morning. My feet had to learn a new kind of +movement, and my thoughts a new sequence; I was as a child learning to +walk and think before I could take my place on equal terms with new +companions. One incident of my walk struck me by way of humour and +discovery. I had often strolled into bookshops toward evening, and had +remarked upon the cold discourtesy with which my presence was regarded. +Now I knew the reason; I had come at the clerk's hour, and the keen +eyes of discriminating shopmen had recognised my low estate. I came +now under altered auspices. To shop at three in the afternoon is to +give proof of leisure; behold, in the eyes of obsequious shopmen I had +at once become a wealthy dilettante, nurturing the growth of an +expensive library, and the rarest books were laid before me with an +ingratiating smile. Let the man who would understand how much the +estimates men take of us are based on wealth, or supposed wealth, make +the brief experiment of shopping at the rich man's hour, instead of at +the poor man's; he will be surprised to note the difference of the +social atmosphere. A man's clothes may be poor enough, and his +appearance contemptible, but if he will shop at the hour when all the +drudges are at work, no one will take him for a drudge. I will confess +it gave me pleasure to note this change of estimate. I seemed to taste +the first privilege of a freeman, when a pursy bookseller took from a +glass case certain expensive books on Art, and drew my attention, with +subtle deference to my judgment, to the merits of the pictures they +contained. I may as well confess at once, that so intoxicated was I +with the new respect that greeted me, that I even bought one of these +volumes, which I did not need, and certainly could not afford. It was +a weakness and a folly, no doubt; but how could I tell my obsequious +friend that I paid my guinea not for anything he sold me, but as a sort +of first footing on my entrance to the realm of freedom? I might have +spent it much worse, for I bought my self-respect with it. + +The sight of my doorstep brought me to my bearings, for a man's own +doorstep is a rare corrective of disordered fancies. The fact I had to +communicate was briefly this; That I had lost 250 pounds per annum, +against which I had 50 pounds to show by way of compensation. Women, I +have long noticed--or women of the best kind, I ought to add--have much +more genius in finance than men. They have a much keener sense of the +use of money; an excellent thing in women when it does not deteriorate +into cheese-paring and sordid parsimony. They, being primitive and +unsophisticated creatures, are unacquainted with the lax morals of the +cheque-book; a pound is just twenty shillings to them, and each +shilling is an entity, and each is spent with an indomitable aim to get +the most out of it. How would my wife regard the definite +disappearance of five thousand shillings? Not with levity, I knew; and +I thought it best to say nothing of that guinea volume on the _Tombs of +the Etruscans_. The _Tombs of the Etruscans_ would have meant to her +three pairs of boots; and I wished that I might conceal it in mine. A +wise bishop once argued that marriage was ordained not for man's +pleasure, but his discipline; I believe that he was not far wrong. It +is no use disputing the fact that the married man is always in danger +of the judgment; and it is only by some form of bribery that he can +hope to escape being cast in damages. I resolved on bribery, and made +my cheque the bribe. Here said I, was present wealth, let us be +content. The plea was not received with instant favour, but it was not +wholly ineffectual. By the time we sat down to supper that night we +had all attained to cheerfulness. It was a meal of some tenuity, not +calculated to lie heavy on the stomach; for, said Charlotte, 'If we +have to begin high thinking and plain living, we can't begin too +early.' The only load on my digestion that night was the _Tombs of the +Etruscans_. + +It says much for the steadfastness of our convictions, that in this new +crisis of affairs the old resolution to seek a country life passed +unquestioned. What to another had seemed calamity appeared to us +opportunity. When the daily paper came next morning, it was not to the +columns where commerce chronicles its wants that my eye turned, but to +the much more engaging columns where lands and houses were advertised +for sale. This part of the newspaper had long ago attracted me by its +fine air of surreptitious romance. My mind had often been kept aglow +for a whole day by some seductive advertisement of cottages 'situate +amid pine-woods,' or farmhouses, all complete, even to the styes and +kennels, which by all accounts were to be given away. One such +advertisement I particularly remember for a kind of insane generosity +which pervaded it. It described at length a farmhouse, 'stone-built +and covered with ivy' (observe the very definite sense of the +picturesque conveyed in this phrase), containing ten rooms, commanding +pleasant views of a well-wooded country, together with a large orchard, +and one hundred and fifty acres of freehold land, the whole of which +might be purchased for 750 pounds; and, added the advertiser, 'the +furniture at present in the house is included in the price.' I do not +know where this terrestrial Paradise existed; I believe it was in +Essex; but I often regretted that I made no effort to discover it. + +However, the morning paper, if it contained no paragraph comparable +with this in point of style and seduction, certainly did appear +singularly rich in Paradises. Philanthropists, disguised as +land-agents, contended eagerly with one another through many columns of +advertisements, offering a reluctant world all the advantages of rural +happiness on what appeared merely nominal terms. It appeared that they +did not even want the money, which they mentioned only in a kind of +gentlemanly whisper; pay them but 100 pounds in sound cash, and the +rest might stand at mortgage upon easy terms for an indefinite period! +One might have imagined that the whole of rural England was +depopulated; that Eden itself had been cut up into building lots; that, +in fact, the land-agent was subsidised by a paternal government to +persuade the townsman to turn landed proprietor on terms which even the +squatter in new lands would regard as generous. + +The reality I soon found to be entirely different. The moment I set +about the deliberate business of finding a cottage I made a series of +surprising discoveries which I will now relate. + +In the first place, I found that many of these much vaunted farmhouses +were situated in districts utterly destitute of beauty, and even +desolate. One specimen may stand for the whole. I omit the +particulars of the advertisement, which was drawn up in the usual +style; but I must say, in justice to its author, that when I +interviewed him in his city office he did what he could to discourage +too abundant hope. He did not go the length of admitting his +description false, but he told me drily that 'I had better see the +thing for myself.' An hour's journey found me on the Essex flats. +There was a bright sky and a brisk wind, but nothing could disguise the +featureless monotony of the far-stretched landscape. The train put me +down at a roadside station where a dogcart waited my arrival. I drove +through a small village of mean, red-brick houses, and soon found +myself in the open country. My driver made but one remark during the +four-mile journey. + +'You be come to see Dawes' farm?' he said. + +I admitted the fact. + +'There's a-many has come,' he replied. 'You be the twenty-first I have +drove. An' they all be uncommon glad to get away agen.' + +'Why?' I asked. + +'You'll soon find out.' + +With that he lit his pipe and smoked stolidly. I was not long in +comprehending the reason of his reticence. Dawes' farm may once have +been a comfortable residence, but when I saw it it was a mildewed, +rat-haunted ruin. It stood upon a piece of redeemed marsh-land, and +the salt damp of the marsh had eaten into its very vitals. The +wainscots were discoloured, the walls oozed, and part of the roof was +broken. There had once been a garden; that, like the rest, was a ruin. +The land was there no doubt, fifty acres said the advertisement, but it +was treeless, bleak, flat, covered with coarse grass, and cut up by +muddy watercourses. To have lived in the house at all it must have +been rebuilt, and even then nothing could have made it a cheerful place +of residence. There was no water-supply that I could discover, unless +half a dozen butts that took the drippings of the roof represented it. +The orchard had long ago gone back to barbarism. It appeared that the +place had been deserted for half a dozen years. I did not wonder. The +only wonder was that it had ever been inhabited. + +'Ah,' repeated my driver, 'there's a-many as comes an' looks, an' they +all be uncommon glad to get away agen.' + +I subscribed to the common sentiment. Never did that infinite diapason +which we call the roar of London sound so sweet, never did those long, +lighted, busy streets seem so habitable, as on that night when I +returned from my casual inspection of Dawes' farm. + +The memory of Dawes' farm taught me that if I was to live in the +country some charm of outlook was indispensable to my content. +Mountains, a lake, a wood, a running river--some delicate effect of +scenery, some concourse of elements, either in themselves or in their +combination beautiful--these I must have if I would be happy. They +were as necessary to me as my daily bread. But here I made a second +disquieting discovery; there was not a part of England which could be +justly described as beautiful that was not already occupied in the +degree of its accessibility. I thought of Surrey; I visited it and +found myself in a superior Cockney Paradise. Half a dozen men of +genius had in an inadvertent moment advertised the pure air of the +Surrey highlands, and by the time I came upon the scene trim villas had +sprung up by hundreds, and wealth was already in possession. The +merest cottage in this favoured district provoked keen contest in the +auction-room. Indeed, in the true sense, there were no cottages; they +had been transformed, added to, rebuilt, till only a remnant of their +primitive rusticity remained. It was the same everywhere. I was too +late by twenty years in this kind of quest. + +I had been led to believe by various social writers that the villages +of England were depopulated. According to these fallacious chroniclers +the country abounded in cottages and even small manor-houses from which +the inhabitants had fled. I can only say I never found it so. A +deserted roadside cottage I often found, but there were obvious reasons +for its desolation. Sometimes it was so far from other houses, or any +centre of congregated life, that it must have been difficult, and +almost impossible, for any one residing in it to obtain the common +necessaries of life. More commonly it was deserted because it was +falling into ruin. But no sooner did I reach a real village than I +found every house in occupation. The usual complaint was lack of +accommodation. Hence rents were by no means low, and the contest for +houses was vehement. If the village had real beauties of its own--a +cluster of thatched and dormer-windowed cottages, properties valuable +to the artist--one was sure to come upon immediate evidence of the +cockney invasion. What I thought a barn would as like as not prove a +studio, and it was no farmer who lived at the pleasant, yellow-washed +farmhouse amid the rose-garden, but 'a gentleman from London.' And we +had but to go a little way down some shady lane to find a glaring board +announcing building land for lease, and from some local agent one +obtained particulars of the exact kind of house which the investor +would be permitted to build upon the site. + +It will be said that this was not the country proper, nor was it, for +London has annexed every place within fifty miles of Charing Cross. +But in the country proper a new difficulty met me: not only were there +no empty cottages, but landowners stuck to their acres with such +jealous obstinacy that they refused to sell a rood of land for a +cottage on any terms whatever. I will give one example, which may be +taken as typical. There was a Welsh valley where I had once spent a +summer holiday, exquisitely retired and beautiful--a dozen miles from +the nearest railway. Beyond the green strath, with its few white +cottages and farms, rose on every side the wide hills, with Snowdon +towering over all like a dome. The hillside land had but a prairie +value. It had never been cultivated. A few sheep strayed over it; but +for months together no human foot trod its heather, or wandered by its +vociferous cascades. One would have supposed that had any one offered +to build a house on these solitary hillsides, the owner of the land +would have been only too glad to have fostered a folly that would have +proved remunerative to himself. On the contrary, the two great +landowners of the district stuck to every inch of soil as if it had +been sown with gold. The land was quite useless, as I have said. It +might have been worth three pounds an acre--yet they refused fifty. +They would not even let on lease. Nor could it be pretended that the +scenery would have lost any element of its charm by a cottage that +would have been scarcely observed on those vast slopes of Snowdon. +Jealous obstinacy, the desire to keep intact their own, the desire to +keep out all intruders--this was the temper of the landowners. They +did all they could to harass their existing tenants. A tenant whose +family had increased so that his cottage was as overcrowded as a +tenement in Spitalfields, had to plead long before he was allowed to +add a couple of rooms to his cottage, even when he did so at his own +expense. Often enough he was refused so harshly, that he was +constrained to seek a house in some other district. Yet, in all that +valley, which was five miles long by two in breadth, there were not two +hundred houses; and there rose around them the unpopulated hillside, +where a host of people might have lived in health, and where, indeed, +men had once lived, as was witnessed by the roofless gables which here +and there rose among the heather. + +It seems to me that in this state of things there is a monstrous +injustice. There is no law to compel these gentlemen to sell land, and +there is no public sentiment that can affect them. They are the +complete despots of the countryside. If a man does not like their +domination, he leaves the district; he knows that it is vain to resist +it. In this way many rural districts are depopulated, or kept +under-populated, simply to gratify the selfish temper of a great +proprietor. It is not as though he lived in the district, and wished +to keep its beauties secret to himself; often enough he visits it so +rarely that his face is not known among his tenants. No; but he must +have everything to himself; he must round off his estate; he must look +from his park on nothing which is not his; for your rural Ahab could +not sleep with a Naboth's little vineyard even a mile away. It is +useless to tell him that the land you want is waste natural land, on +which you propose to confer value; he prefers that it shall be +valueless, rather than that it shall be yours. Before population can +be re-distributed to the advantage of town and country alike, this +difficulty must be overcome. It can only be overcome by drastic +legislation. Compulsory purchase, regulated by an equitable land +court, is the only remedy; and it is hard that Irishmen should have, +and grumble over, privileges which their English brethren would receive +with open arms. + +Such were some of the discoveries which I made when I came to the real +business of finding a humble country residence. In my ignorance and +inexperience it had seemed the easiest thing in the world. After a +fortnight of experiment I began to think it was the hardest. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +I FIND MY COTTAGE + +In the meantime a circumstance had occurred which was of great +importance to me. Some enterprising spirits had started a new weekly +local paper, and--_mirabile dictu_--they actually contemplated a +literary page! With a faith in suburban culture, so unprecedented as +to be almost sublime, these daring adventurers proposed giving their +readers reviews of books, literary gossip, and general information +about the doings of eminent writers. They offered the work to me at +the modest honorarium of two pounds a week, and were willing to give me +a three years' agreement. They were frank enough to acknowledge that +their journal was likely to die of 'superiority to its public,' long +before the three years were over; but, barring this disaster, they gave +me assurance of regular employment. This was the very thing for me. +One could write about books anywhere. I thankfully closed with the +offer and began to study the ha'-penny evening papers with assiduity, +in order to learn the craft of manufacturing biographies of living +authors. + +The greatest of all questions was thus settled: I should not starve. +But the question of a local habitation remained as difficult as ever. +I went upon wild-goose chases innumerable; was the victim of every kind +of chance hint; gathered fallacious information from garrulous +third-class passengers on many railways; confided my case to carters +and rural postmen, who played upon my innocence with genial malice; +stayed so long at village public-houses without visible motive that I +incurred the suspicion of the local constabulary, and on one memorable +occasion found myself identified with a long watched-for robber of +local hen-roosts. When I dropped upon some quaint village that, from a +pictorial point of view, seemed to offer all that I desired, I found my +tale, that I wished to settle in it, universally derided. No one could +conceive any sane person as being desirous of living in a village; the +design seemed wholly unaccountable to people who themselves would have +been only too glad to live in towns. + +That I came from London was against me, It seemed to these village +Daniels barely possible that I was honest, and quite certain that I +cloaked some base designs under an innocent inquiry for empty cottages. +The little black bag in which I carried my lunch on these excursions +was the object of extraordinary hypotheses. At one time I was believed +to be selling tracts, at another time, tea; once I was suspected of +being an itinerant anarchist, doing a brisk business in infernal +machines. Landladies, who had lavished smiles upon me when they +supposed me an ordinary pedestrian in search of the picturesque, gave +me the cold shoulder when I began to explain my genuine intentions. +They sometimes treated me with such a mixture of aversion and alarm +that it was plain they doubted not only my sincerity but my sanity. +The travelling artist they knew, the pedlar, the insurance agent, and +the cockney beanfeaster; but the stranger who desired permanent +neighbourship with them they knew not; him they treated as a lunatic at +large. If the papers had chanced to be full at this time of the doings +of some flagrant murderer flying from justice, which fortunately for me +they were not, I have little doubt that these amiable villagers would +have delivered me up to the police without scruple, and have chuckled +over their sagacity. + +The thing was amusing enough, and yet it had a certain serious +significance. It was a striking illustration of the way in which the +growth of cities had perverted even the rural mind. I had thoughts of +writing an article on _The Reluctant Villagers_, and a very good +article I could have made of it; for I found hardly any one who was a +villager by choice. A village might appear fair as Paradise to the +casual eye; but closer inspection always revealed the serpent of +discontent among the flowers. Where every outward object breathed of +rest, there was universal restlessness among the people. The common +ambition of all the younger generation was to get to London by almost +any means, and in almost any capacity. There was not a household that +had not children or relatives in London. The young ploughman went to +London as a carter or ostler; the milkmaid as a servant. The village +carpenter was invariably a middle-aged or an old man, secretly despised +by his apprentice, if he had one, for his contentment with his lot. +One saw very few young people in the village street, except mere +children. The universal complaint was that life was dull. There were +no libraries or reading-rooms; no concerts or entertainments; even the +innocuous penny-reading had died out. Nor were there cricket clubs, or +any organised system of sport, except in isolated cases. Here and +there a modern-minded clergyman had recognised the need of recreation +in his parishioners, and had done something to provide for it; but he +was an exception. Hence it happened that the public-house was the +common centre of the village life: it was the poor man's club, and it +was used less for purposes of social intercourse than for the +discussing of racing odds. + +Artists have often painted village politicians in earnest confabulation +in an oak-pannelled inn-parlour. I can only say that, so far as my +experience went, I found the village politician quite extinct. The +sort of talk I heard in village bar-rooms was inane and contemptible to +the last degree, and it never once touched on politics. Nor, as a +rule, was there any trace of that leaven of superior intelligence which +comes from a fusion of the classes. All the landlords were practically +non-resident. They knew nothing of their tenants; and that pleasant +intercourse between hall and cottage which poets and novelists depict, +rarely happened. Once a year, perhaps, and for a few weeks only, the +blinds of the Hall windows were drawn up; carriages rolled through the +park gates; young ladies, bright in Bond Street toilets, flashed like +deities upon the village street; my Lady Bountiful left a quarter of a +pound of tea at half a dozen cottages; and then the whole vision faded +like an unsubstantial pageant. The blinds were drawn down again, the +lodge-keeper went to sleep, and the monotonies of life submerged +everything like a wave. The clergyman alone remained as the symbol of +a fuller life, sometimes doing his duty with intelligence, sometimes +not; but the case was rare where any definite attempt was made to +uplift the village community by the infusion of any intellectual +interest, any sense of Art, or any care for honest sport. And here +lies the whole secret of the discontent of villages; their inhabitants +are conscious of unjust deprivations in their lot; and if they remain +villagers, it is rather from lethargy than love. + +Were I to describe all the places I visited in search of a habitation, +my list would be interminable. I have given one example in Dawes' +Farm; let me give one other, as illustrating another kind of difficulty +in my quest. + +On an exquisite morning in June I found myself climbing the long chalk +hills that lie northward of the Thames valley. At every step the air +became more pure and sparkling; and while in the hazy lowlands not a +leaf stirred, here a brisk and gusty breeze was blowing. The road ran +through high chalk banks, like a railway cutting, and I have since +found that Roman soldiers used it in the days of Caesar. At the height +of three hundred feet authentic forest scenery began. Here the elms +ceased, and enormous woods of beech took their place. The turf was of +the greenest, the solitude intense, the air exhilarating; and never had +I so admired the lace-like delicacy of foliage which distinguishes the +beech, for never had I seen it in such mass or such perfection. The +house I sought stood at fully eight hundred feet above sea-level, on a +carpet of soft turf, round which the forest rose like a wall. Never +did place look so sweetly habitable; it was a kind of green hermitage +in the woods, inimitably quiet, warmed by clearest sunlight, cooled by +freshest winds. Here, said I, at last is my much sought El Dorado; nor +did the cottage, when I came to it, belie my hopes. It was a true +woodland cottage, an intimate part and parcel of the scenery. It had +been recently inhabited by a man of letters, a poet and a dreamer; and +a fitter spot to dream in eye never rested on. + +My enthusiasm rose as I drew nearer to it, There was a warm, homely +compactness about it, as of a nest among the trees. The forest turf +came to the very gate; a young orchard of five hundred trees lay to the +southward of the house, a green paddock to the northward; and, as my +advertisement informed me, the entire price of this eligible freehold +property was five hundred pounds! Why, then, was its possessor so +eager to be quit of it? I walked round the house, went through its +rooms, took the view from various windows, already treating it as mine, +and it was long before I came upon the cause. That cause was not its +remoteness or its solitude; it was lack of water. There was no well, +and to have sunk a well would have been costly. The only water-supply +was the rain-water from the roofs. Men can laugh at a good many +deprivations, but deprivation of water is a serious business. I found +upon inquiry that the nearest spring was two miles away. In time of +drought--and in this high district summer drought was normal--it was +this or nothing. Water was then sold by the bucket, nor was it easy to +find any one to fetch and carry for you. I had no mind to condemn +myself to drink the droppings of a roof for life, nor to perform my +ablutions by the aid of a teacup and a saucer. The place, for all its +beauty, was plainly uninhabitable as the Sahara. A camel might have +lived there with content; it was no place for a family used to the +delights of tubbing. I had remarked in the owner of the house a +certain elementary lack of linen; the cause was now explained. I think +his only method of attaining cleanliness must have been by what is +called 'the dry air process.' + +This adventure lives in my memory, not only because it had delightful +elements, but because it was the last of a long series, which might +have been called more truthfully misadventures. For an exhilarating +month I scoured the neighbourhood of London, living in a happy fever of +enterprise and hope, but without result. July came, and my problem was +still unsolved. I had already given notice to terminate the tenancy +of my house in London, and there seemed a fair prospect that September +would find me homeless. At my present height of good spirits I cannot +say that even this prospect dismayed me. If the worst came to the +worst I meant to take to the road in one of those convenient vans much +used by travelling hawkers. I had long envied the extraordinary +snugness of those itinerant habitations; to be a Dr. Marigold seemed +the happiest of fates; rent free, and finally delivered from +tax-collectors and their tribe, I might yet roam the world as a +superior kind of vagrant. I knew indeed a young friend of mine who had +adopted this very life. He sold tracts and Bibles upon village greens, +and I promise you no mansion had a warmer glow of comfort than the +interior of his yellow van when the lamp was lit at night for supper. +He has since found his way to a lonely missionary station in Peru; but +he has often told me that he was never happier than when he played the +part of pious gipsy on the village greens of England. At a pinch I +thought that I could do what he had done; it was a romantic trade, and +a new _Lavengro_ might be written on it. + +But whatever dreams of permanent and dedicated vagrancy I might +entertain, manifestly my first duty was to find a cottage if I could. +At last, and almost by accident, I came on what I wanted. I had gone +to the Lake District in the month of August, and one day I struck into +a lonely road to the north-west of Buttermere. Half an hour's walk +brought me to a tiny hamlet beside a rushing stream, and here, for the +first time in all my wanderings, I found a genuine deserted cottage. +To speak by the book there were two cottages exactly similar, covered +by a single roof. They stood upon a gentle slope; a group of pines +formed a shelter from the north, the moorland rose behind them, and the +river sang through a contiguous glen. My first glance told me that +they had not long been out of occupation. They showed no marks of +dilapidation, and the little gardens, though weed-grown, gave signs of +recent care. A woman whom I met told me their history. They had long +been inhabited by two families, father and son. A few months +previously these families had sailed for Canada. No one had applied +for the cottages, for in that part work was scarce, and the foundries +and shipyards on the coast drew away the younger population. The +rent--it seemed incredible--was two shillings a week. The woman +yielded to what she thought my idle curiosity, and brought me the keys. +Each cottage contained four rooms, and the two could easily be thrown +into one. They were dry and water-tight, the walls whitewashed and +clean, the woodwork sound and well cared for. I sat down upon the +sun-warmed bank beside the gate and thought. Here was solitude indeed; +a dozen neighbours in all, simple labouring folk: + + + The silence that is in the starry sky, + The sleep that is among the lonely hills. + + +Here, too, was beauty in excess; a glen untrodden by the feet of +tourists, moorland and pine-wood, a stream that lifted up a cheerful +voice, hills and mountains of delightful form and colour, and not far +away the silver gleam of lakes. In all external features it was my +dream come true, and the deep-bosomed woman at my side, with her face +of rosy, placid health, was herself the proof of how lightly the wings +of time passed over this haunt of ancient peace. + +I suppose that no one ever approaches the realisation of his hopes +without a kind of fear. In those imaginary dramas which we invent and +rehearse perpetually in the silent theatre of our own minds, we always +take care that we get the best of the situation and the dialogue. The +dramas of real life are apt to end differently. The coveted occasion +finds us incapable; a baffling scepticism of our own powers leaves us +impotent; the part that ran so easily, with such unanimous applause, +when we were both the dramatist and the actor, suddenly bristles with a +hundred unsuspected difficulties. For the first time, as I sat on that +sunny bank, I began to ask myself whether I could really play the part +I had so long desired to play. Could I reconcile myself to seclusion +so entire? Would not this weight of utter silence grow heavier than I +could bear? It was not always June, I told myself, and there were days +of lashing rain, grey skies, and 'death-dumb autumn dripping' fog to +think of. The vision of lighted streets and bustling crowds, the warm +contiguity of numbers, the long lines of windows all aglow at evening, +the genial stir and tumult of congregated life, took masterful +possession of my mind. Could I bear to relinquish the familiar scene? +A thousand threads of use and habit bound me to it, each in itself as +light as gossamer, but the whole tough as cords of steel. I foresaw +that I had underestimated the ease of my deliverance. It would +require a strength of consistent resolution of which perhaps I was not +capable. It was but too likely that I should be one of those who put +their hand to the plough and look back, a reluctant recruit of a cause +that won my faith, but could not win my will. This would be not only +fatal to my peace, it would make me despicable in my own eyes, which is +the worst of all calamities that man can suffer. + +Such a distress of mind was natural; yet I think that behind it all my +thought was firm and clear. What I had proposed to do for twenty years +I must do, or attempt to do, if I would retain my self-respect. I +might become despicable to myself by failure in my task, but I should +be much more despicable by never trying to accomplish it. In that +half-hour of meditation the die was cast. I had come to my predestined +battlefield. I must here be triumphant or defeated; in any case I must +attempt the conflict. + +The decision restored, as by a stroke of magic, all my good spirits. I +examined my two cottages again with an eye less critical, more kindly, +more urbane. I saw with how few touches they could be transformed into +a habitation suited to my needs. With the two main rooms thrown into +one I should have a spacious living-room; the two gardens would compose +an admirable lawn; roses should grow against the walls, warm-hued +creepers frame the upper windows; it should become a lodge in Eden. +Then there was the air, the view, the company of the silent mountains +and the singing stream. Here was my theatre, my orchestra, my +concert-room. The woman who was my guide took me into her own cottage +for a cup of tea, and I was struck with its homely air of comfort. An +oak dresser, covered with blue ware such as is common in these parts, +filled one wall; an oak chest of drawers another; there was a +broad-seated oak settle by the fire; all solid, of a good design, and +polished to a deep brown by use and industry. The floor was red brick; +flowers lined the windows; and everything was clean as hands could make +it. I saw my house furnished on the same plan, and it pleased me. A +recollection crossed my mind, curious and most fantastic at such a +time, of a certain room in one of the show-houses in London, furnished +entirely in the French style. I recalled the console tables of old +gilt, the brocaded couch, and the gilded chairs which no one dared to +sit upon; and I confess that I preferred this habitable cottage-room. +There was something satisfying in its plainness; a sense of something +honest and intimately right; a suggestion of solid worth and homely +ease. My spirits had already been restored by my decision; they were +now invigorated to the point of joy, for I saw the concrete emblems, as +it were, of the beauty which is found in true simplicity. + +The next day I returned to the spot accompanied by my wife and my two +boys. We made a new and elaborate inspection of the two cottages. In +the afternoon the landlord, a neighbouring farmer, met us. He was a +dales-man born and bred, shrewd, much given to silence, but with a +plenitude of genial good sense. He began by being somewhat suspicious +of us after the usual country fashion. When he at last understood the +sincerity and novelty of our intentions, he treated us with a kind of +fatherly derision, which had no hint of impoliteness or impertinence in +it. 'It will na do, I'm thinking,' he said, several times. When he +saw us persistent, and that our persistence grew in the ratio of his +dissuasion, he said, just as though he were talking to wayward +children, 'Well, a wilful man maun have his way. As for my bit of +cottages, ye're welcome to them, an' I'll ask no rent till ye've been +in them long enough to know your own minds better. They're of no worth +to me, an' I'll be your debtor for living in them. If ye want to pull +them aboot, ye'll do it at your own expense, I'm willing. Later on, if +ye care to stay, you and me'll fix a rent, an' I gie ye ma word it +shall na be more than ten pund a year. I'll help ye too if ye'll let +me. I can find ye a man as 'll do all the little jobs you want done, +an' glad to do it. As for fishing, the stream's yours, an' I would na +say but what ye might get some shooting too. But ye'll tire of it, +ye'll tire of it,' he concluded, with a grave smile. + +With that he handed us the keys. He then shook our hands with the +melancholy air of a man who says farewell to friends embarked upon a +perilous adventure, and strode away across the heather, stopping once +to wave his hand to us as if in wise dissuasion. + +So Mahomet might have stood above Damascus when he said, 'My Paradise +is not there,' and yet Damascus was a Paradise all the same. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BUYING HAPPINESS + +We are all children, and in nothing so much perhaps as in the kind of +delight we take in any form of building. The architectural efforts of +a child with a box of bricks or a heap of sand explain the Tower of +Babel, the Pyramids, and the Golden House of Nero. House-building +unites the ideal with the real more thoroughly than any other human +employment. What can there be more delightful than to see that which +you have dreamed grow into tangible and enduring form? No wonder the +rich man builds himself 'a lordly pleasure-house'; it is a kind of +practical poetry which he can understand. Were there only millionaires +enough to go round all architects would be wealthy, for building is a +kind of material art admirably suited to men of material intelligence. + +The weeks which followed the acquisition of my two deserted cottages +were the most delightful I have ever spent. First of all, there was +the question of structural alterations to be considered. In my opinion +the living-room of the house is the chief consideration. It should be +a _room to live in_, the focus of the whole life of the household. For +this reason it should be large and airy, covering the whole site of the +house as nearly as possible. One large room is infinitely to be +preferred to two or three small rooms; it is healthier, and much more +cheerful. Space and air are most needed in the room which is most in +use. It is of no consequence that the bedrooms should be small; one's +active hours are not spent in them, and a window left wide open summer +and winter will provide an ample supply of oxygen in the smallest +chamber. What can be more absurd than the arrangement of a modern +London villa? It is usually cut up by partition walls into a number of +small rooms, not more than one of which is in constant use. Pretension +takes the place of comfort. Mrs. Grundy must have a 'drawing-room' or +die! It is a kind of holiest of holies, too beautiful for normal +occupation, full of gimcrack chairs that cannot be sat upon, and +decorative futilities which give it the aspect of a miscellaneous stall +at a 'rummage sale.' Such a room is very well as a _with_drawing-room, +its proper use; but as a room into which no one withdraws it is absurd. +As I expected to keep no company, and needed no room into which to +withdraw, I was able to get rid of this apartment. Moreover, in a very +small house, common sense demanded that every room should be really and +thoroughly used. + +Fortunately the fireplaces of my two cottages were against the outer or +gable ends, and not against the partition wall, as is commonly the +case. I had only to remove this partition wall, supporting the ceiling +by a strong beam, and I had a room about twenty-four long by fifteen in +breadth. At the back of this room were two small kitchens, only one of +which was needed. By widening the doorway leading to one of them to +double its breadth, I gained another room about ten feet square. This +made my library, by which I mean not a room in which I ever sat, but a +room entirely devoted to the housing of my books. I had the walls +entirely lined with books, making and staining the bookshelves with my +own hands. Across the widened doorway from which the door had been +removed hung a warm curtain, so that it was to all intents and purposes +a part of my living-room. I took infinite and almost childish delight +in the arrangement of this living-room. I had brought not a single +article of domestic furniture with me from London. Such furniture as I +had--chairs, tables, couch, sideboard, and so forth--would have looked +out of place in the country, and moreover it was better economy to sell +them. I sold them very well in a London auction-room, getting almost +as much as they cost me. With the money thus received in my pocket I +went to a neighbouring market town where there happened to be a shop +that dealt in old furniture. For less than ten pounds I bought an +excellent oaken gate-table, half a dozen serviceable oak chairs, a +couple of fine carved chests, and a corner cupboard. My oak dresser +and settle, each good specimens of serviceable cottage furniture, cost +me thirty-seven shillings at a country auction. I found that even at +these modest prices I had paid too much. Oaken furniture was common in +these parts, and had little value. When a church was restored, or an +old house re-constructed, large quantities of old oak were literally +thrown away. Thus, at a merely nominal expense I acquired enough +carved oak to fit together into a handsome fireplace, and later on the +pews of a church came in for oak panelling. + +Let me now picture my living-room as it was about four months after I +took possession. It was entirely oak panelled to a height of nine +feet, above which about a foot of white-washed wall showed, forming a +plain frieze. The fireplace at one end of the room was built in with +carved oak; what had been the corresponding fireplace at the other end +of the room was turned into a cupboard, with plain oak doors. The room +had three old-fashioned leaded windows opening outward. Two were +original, one had been added--the centre window taking the place of the +gap left by the destroyed partition wall. My oak chests, dresser and +cupboard, constituted the furniture of the room. The library, +curtained off with a plain curtain of crimson plush, adjoined; the +kitchen door opened at the east corner of the room. The windows faced +due south. The room therefore was always sunny. The floor-boards were +stained, and covered by two or three cheap rugs. Flowers were at the +windows, a vase of flowers always on the table. The fireplace was +open, for I had removed the ugly modern grate, substituting for it a +low hearth of red brick with iron dogs, on which wood could be burned. +This room, with the adjoining library, was the great feature of my +little house. + +The other rooms in the house required no alteration; fresh whitewash +and wall-papers soon transformed them; and although they were small, +they were not devoid of charm. When my scheme of adaptation was +complete I found myself possessed of a house containing one beautiful +living-room, a small library, a kitchen, and four good bedrooms. My +bill for labour, including the mason's work in the removal of the +partition wall, the building of a new window, and the laying of a fresh +hearth; the carpenter's work in fitting my oak, and various minor +repairs, amounted in all to about twelve pounds. The cost of my +furniture, including the oak panelling in the living-room, and all that +was needed for the bedrooms, was about fifty pounds, against which I +had to set thirty-eight pounds, received from the sale of my +superfluous effects in London. If I added to these sums the general +expenses of removal, the carriage and cartage of my goods, and so +forth, which I reckoned at ten pounds, I found that the cost of my +exodus and new tenancy had been as follows:-- + + + L. s. d. + By expenses of removal . . . . . . 10 0 0 + By alterations and labour . . . . . 12 0 0 + By cost of furniture for living-room + and four bedrooms . . . . . . . . 50 0 0 + ----------- + L72 0 0 + Against which, by sale of goods in + London . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 0 0 + ----------- + Leaving total outlay of . . . . . . L34 0 0 + ----------- + + +I am conscious that to a townsman, accustomed to the wastefulness of +towns, some parts of this account must appear incredible. Take, for +instance, the bill for labour. No one has ever lived in London without +having occasion to complain of the dearness and badness of labour. The +chief object of the town artisan is to do as little work as possible. +He is absolutely without conscience in his work, and all that he does +is slovenly. He surveys a job, and meditates upon it for an hour--at +your expense; begins it, and goes away to fetch a tool that he has +forgotten--the time of his absence being duly charged against you; +procrastinates and dawdles; sits down to read the paper, if no one +watches him; and in one way and another takes quite twice as long over +a job as is needed, and then does it badly. When I first became a +householder in London I naturally sent to some neighbouring employer of +labour for any little jobs of carpentering and plumbing that needed to +be done. I soon had to relinquish the practice. If a new latch were +put upon a window, the screws were driven into the old holes, so that +in a week the latch was off again. If the plumber effected one repair +he invariably left some damage that made it necessary to recall him +before the month was out. There are houses in London which must be as +good as an annuity to local tradesmen; I believe the workmen are +instructed to do their work so badly that it is never really done. I +soon found it wise to learn how to do repairs for myself; and it was by +doing them myself that I discovered how I had been victimised by the +rapacity, dishonesty, and inefficiency of the British workman and his +master. + +But in the country things are different. The village workman has +honest pride in his reputation, and in his work. Moreover, he can turn +his hand to anything, he does not grudge his time, and he is not +corrupted by the contiguity of the public-house. The man who did my +masonry work for me was a grey-haired, silent, pertinacious fellow, of +great practical intelligence and efficiency. He did not work rapidly, +but all that he did was thoroughly done. The carpenter was a man of +the same type. He took a genuine delight in fitting my oak to its new +uses, and had ideas of his own, which were often ingenious, and always +practical. He even had a true artistic sense; uncultivated for want of +education, but real. I understood the extraordinary skill of mediaeval +craftsmen through my association with this man. The pieces of +exquisite carved oak which find their way into museums to-day were +wrought by men such as he was; quiet, thoughtful men, residing in +villages, who developed their artistic sense in solitude. I am quite +sure that this man thought a great deal more of his work than of the +money he earned by it. At all events he charged me astonishingly +little. He refused a contract, evidently regarding it as implying +suspicions of his honesty. 'I'll charge ye what's fair,' he said, 'and +you and me'll not quarrel as to the price.' If my bill for labour was +so moderate that it seems absurd to a townsman, it was because I had to +deal with honest craftsmen, who brought not only efficiency and +handiness to their work, but a high sense of honour, and a real +intelligence and interest. + +It was in the end of August when I took my house; by the beginning of +December I had completed my work upon it. The gardens in front of the +house had been levelled, and covered with the finest mountain turf. +The walls had been colour-washed a warm yellow, and all the +window-frames painted white. For three months every hour had been +busy, and not the least blessing of my toil was that it had brought me +a degree of physical vigour such as I had never yet enjoyed. How +different were my sensations when I woke in the morning now from those +which I had known in London! In London the hour of rising had +invariably found me languid and reluctant. I woke with the sense of a +load upon me, and I dreaded the long grey day. I see now that these +sensations were not so much mental as physical. I had not mental +buoyancy simply because I was deficient in physical vitality. But at +Thornthwaite I woke eager for the day. The first sounds that greeted +me through the open window were the songs of the birds, the sea-like +diapason of the wind in the elm-trees on the lawn, and the animating +song of the river in the glen. The weather during the whole of that +autumn was extraordinarily fine. After a week of equinoctial storm in +the end of September, the weather settled into exquisite repose. Day +succeeded day, calm, bright, sunny. It was as warm as August, but with +all the tonic freshness of autumn. November, usually a month of misery +in London, was here delightful. The year died slowly, amid the pomp of +crimson leaves and bronzed bracken. For the first time I understood +that it is bliss to be alive. Like the child whom Wordsworth +celebrates, I felt my life in every limb. There was no goading of dull +powers to unwelcome tasks; energy ran free, like the mountain-stream at +my door, and the zest of life was strong in me. + +I never came downstairs into my living-room without a sense of new +delight. How beautiful, how sweetly habitable it looked in the morning +sunshine! Any one living in a city, who immediately on rising enters +the room which he has used overnight, has noticed the peculiar +staleness of the atmosphere. It is not exactly a noxious atmosphere; +there is no palpable unpleasant odour in it, but it is used up, it is +stale. He will also notice the dust which rests on everything. In a +city the daily grinding of millions of wheels over thousands of miles +of roads fills the air with an acrid, almost impalpable powder, which +finds its way even through closed windows and settles upon everything. +In my London house I could not take up a book without soiled fingers. +Even books which were protected by glass doors, and papers shut up in +drawers, did not escape this filthy powder, composed of the fine-ground +dust and excrement of the London streets. If I wiped a picture with a +white silk handkerchief, a black stain showed itself upon the +handkerchief, and this in spite of the most careful efforts to keep the +house clean. I suppose Londoners get used to dirt, as eels are said to +get used to skinning. They spend their time in washing their hands, +but with the most transient gain of cleanliness. No one knows how +filthy London is till he begins to notice how much longer +window-curtains, household draperies, and personal linen keep clean in +the country. I should not like to be called an old maid, but I confess +to an old-maidish care for cleanliness. Untidiness in books or papers +would not distress me, but dirt is a real distress; and if it be +old-maidish to fight a continual battle with dirt, to scour and polish +and dust, content with nothing less than immaculate purities of +polished surface, then I suppose I am an old maid, and I count it to +myself for righteousness. + +Amid the many miseries of cities, this no doubt is but a minor misery, +but the relief which I experienced in deliverance from it was +disproportionately great. The purity and freshness of the atmosphere, +the corresponding cleanliness of all I touched in the house, were +delightful to me, and added to my self-respect. The clean, aromatic +air passed like a ceaseless lustration through every room of the house. +The very bed-linen, bleached in the open air, had acquired the +fragrance of mountain thyme and lavender. I did not need to climb the +hill to find the pine-woods; they grew round the very table where I +ate. Four walls and a roof gave me shelter, yet I lived in the open +air all the time. + +Then there was also the silence, at first so strange as to be almost +oppressive, but later on sweeter than music. It was at early morning +and nightfall that this silence was most intense. On a still night one +could almost hear the earth move, and fancy that the stars diffused a +gentle crackling noise as of rushing flame. The fall of an acorn in a +pine wood startled the ear like an explosion. The river also was +discerned as having a definite rhythm of its own. It ran up and down a +perpetual scale, like a bird singing. What had seemed a heavy confused +sound of falling water resolved itself into regular harmonies, which +could have been written down in musical notation. At times there was +also in the air the sense of breathing. On a dark night, standing at +my door, I had the sense of a great heart that beat in the obscurity, +of a bosom that rose and fell, of a pulse as regular as a clock. I +think that the ear must have recovered a fine sensitiveness, normal to +it under normal conditions, but lost or dulled amid the deafening roar +of towns. It is scarcely an exaggeration when poets speak of hearing +the grass grow; we could hear it, no doubt, if the ear were not stunned +by more violent sounds. + +It is probable that mere increase of vitality in itself is sufficient +to account for this new delicacy of the physical senses. The senses +adapt themselves to their environment. An example of this is found in +the absence of what is called long sight among city children. Having +no extensive horizon constantly before the eye, the power of discerning +distant objects gradually decays. On the contrary a child brought up +upon the African veldt, where he is daily confronted with almost +infinite distances, acquires what seems to be an almost preternatural +sharpness of vision. It is the same with hearing. The savage can +distinguish sounds which are entirely inaudible to the civilised man. +The footfall of his enemy, the beat of a horse's hoofs, the movement of +a lion in the jungle, are heard at what appear impossible distances. I +do not seek to offer any absolute explanation of these phenomena as +regards myself, but I state the fact that in returning to a natural +life I found a remarkable quickening of my physical senses. As my eye +became accustomed to the wide moorland prospects I found myself +increasingly able to discriminate distant objects. Flowers that had +seemed to me to smell pretty much alike, now had distinct fragrances. +I knew when I woke in the morning from which direction the wind came, +by its odour; the wind from the moorland brought the scent of heather +and wild thyme, the wind from the glen the scent of water. + +It was the same with sound. Properly speaking there is no such thing +as silence in Nature. The silence, or what seems silence, is divisible +into a multitude of minute sounds. Everything in Nature is toiling and +straining at its task, the sap in the tree, the rock balanced on its +bed of clay, the grass-blade pushing and urging its way toward the sun. +And as there is no real silence, so there is no real solitude in a +world where every atom is vigorously at work. Wordsworth's conception +of Nature as a Presence becomes at once intelligible when we live close +to the heart of Nature. Had Wordsworth lived in towns his poetry could +never have been written, nor can its central conception of Nature as a +Presence be understood by the townsman. I had often enough read the +wonderful lines-- + + + And I have felt + A presence that disturbs me with the joy + Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime + Of something far more deeply interfused, + Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, + And the round ocean, and the living air, + And the blue sky, and in the mind of man + _A motion and a spirit_, that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things. + + +But I never really understood them till I lived among scenes similar to +those in which they were composed. And the organ by which they were +interpreted was not the mind so much as the senses, quickened and +invigorated by solitude. I presented a more sensitive surface to +Nature, and the instant result was the perception of Nature as of +something alive. In the silence of the night, as I stood at my door, I +felt the palpitation of a real life around me; the sense, as I have +said, of a breathing movement, of pulsation, of a beating heart, and +then I knew that Wordsworth wrote with strict scientific accuracy, and +not with vague mysticism as is commonly supposed, when he described +Nature as a living Presence. + +The sum of these sensations was for me a state of physical beatitude. +I was often reminded of the grim confession of the poor wastrel, who, +when asked where he lived, replied, 'I don't live, I linger.' I had +never really lived; I had lingered. I had trodden the path of the days +and years with reluctant feet. Now every daybreak was a new occasion +of joy to me. I was rejuvenated not only in mind, but in the very core +and marrow of my body. I had put myself in right relation to Nature; I +had established contact, as electricians would say; and as a +consequence all the electric current of Nature flowed through me, +vitalising and quickening me in every nerve. Men who live in cities +are but half alive. They mistake infinite contortion for life. Life +consists in the efficient activity of every part of us, each part +equally efficient, and moving in a perfect rhythm. For the first time, +since I had been conscious of myself, I realised this entire efficiency. + +Many times I had coveted what is called 'rude health,' but I had been +led to believe that rude health implies lack of sensitiveness. I now +found the reverse to be the case. Perfect health and perfect +sensitiveness are the same thing. I felt, enjoyed, and received +sensations more acutely simply because my health was perfect. It may +be said that the sensations afforded by such a life as mine were not +upon a grand scale. They were not to be compared with the acute and +poignant sensations afforded--perhaps I should say inflicted--by a +city. I can only say they were enough for me. All pleasures are +relative, and the simplest pleasure is capable of affording as great +delight as the rarest. The sight of a flower can produce as keen a +pleasure as a Coronation pageant, and the song of a bird may become to +the sensitive ear as fine a music as a sonata by Beethoven. May I not +also say that the simplest pleasures are the most enduring, the +commonest delights are the most invigorating, the form of happiness +which is the most easily available is the best? The further we stray +from Nature the harder are we to please, and he knows the truest +pleasure who can find it in the simplest forms. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOW WE LIVED + +The most common objection to country life is what is called its +dulness. When I used to suggest to my town acquaintances the +advantages of a holiday in purely rustic scenes, I was always met by +the remark: 'Oh, there would be nothing to do there!' No doubt if a +holiday is devoted to lounging, it is much more difficult to lounge at +a solitary farm than at some crowded seaside resort. But my holidays +in the country had never been of this description. I am +constitutionally unfitted for a lounger. I like to have my days +planned out, and to live them fully. A country holiday for me had +always meant incessant occupation of one kind or another, fishing, +climbing, boating, long cycling excursions, and an industrious +endeavour to explore all scenes of interest within a reasonable +compass. Now that I had come to live in the country, I felt more than +ever the need of incessant occupation, for I fully realised that the +worst enemy of human happiness is ennui. + +During the first three months, while I was busy in getting settled, +there was no danger of ennui. I was constantly interested, and I was +constantly at work. I learned how to do carpentering and joiner's jobs +with a fair proficiency; I dug nearly an acre of land at the back of my +house with my own spade; made paths, and planted fruit trees; all the +turf for my lawn I laid myself, with a few hours' assistance from a +farm-hand; and there was no night when I did not go to bed with aching +muscles and often with bruised hands. If my bill for labour was +absurdly moderate, it was partly because I did so much myself. + +For instance, I employed no one to hang papers or to whitewash ceilings +or paint woodwork. With the willing help of my wife and my boys this +was done with complete satisfaction. One result of these labours was +the pride and love for our little homestead which they created. In +modern civilised life we get too many things done for us, and this is +not merely an economical but an ethical mistake. It is difficult to +feel any real pride in a home which is the creation of other people. +In a true state of civilisation no man will pay another to do what he +can do himself. Not only does he preserve his independence by such a +rule, but he creates a hundred new objects of interest for himself. +The paper which I had hung with my own labour gave me a pleasure which +a much finer paper hung by paid labour could not have given me. The +lawn which I had laid with my own hands seemed more intimately mine +than if I had paid some one else to make it. The more I reflect upon +the matter the more am I convinced that one of the great curses of +civilisation is the division of labour which makes us dependent upon +other people to a degree which destroys individual efficiency. Thrown +back upon himself as a dweller in a wilderness, any man of ordinary +capacity soon develops efficiency for kinds of work which he would +never have attempted in a city, simply because a city tempts him at +every point to delegate his own proper toil to others. I can conceive +of few things that would do more to create a genuine pride of home than +to insist that no man should possess a house except by building it for +himself, after the old primitive principle of the earliest social +communities. To build thus is to mix sentiment with the mortar, and +the house thus created is a place to which affections and memories +cling; whereas the mere tenancy of a cube of rotten bricks, thrown +together by the jerry-builder--of which we know no more than the amount +of rent which is charged for it--is incapable of nourishing any +sentiment, and is, in any case, not a home but a lodging. + +This idea is no doubt chimerical; for in a vast city, where the great +object is to escape starvation, no one has time to interest himself +deeply in the kind of house he occupies, and still less has he the +opportunity to build a house which is the expression of his own taste +and labour. But in the country the idea is not only practicable, it is +urgent. Independence is made necessary because there are fewer people +on whom we can become dependent. I soon found that if I wanted +potatoes and cabbages, I must grow them; if a pipe burst there was no +plumber to mend it, I must mend it myself; and so through a long range +of occupations, with which I had had no previous acquaintance. The +immortal Captain Davis, of the _Sea Ranger_, remarks to the incompetent +landsman Herrick, whom he has engaged as first mate on the _Farralone_, +'There ain't nothing _to_ sailoring when you come to look it in the +face,' and I am inclined to think that the observation is true of other +things besides navigation. There is nothing in ordinary gardening, +carpentering, or work about a house that any intelligent man cannot +learn in a month by giving his mind to it. Intelligence, industry, and +a deft hand will take any man of capacity through any of the ordinary +employments of life with moderate credit, or at least without disgrace. +When once the right handling of tools is learned, the rest is merely a +matter of intelligence. At all events, I had to learn how to be +proficient in the handling of many strange tools, because there was no +one within reach to handle them for me. The experience was salutary +for me in every way. It taught me to be ashamed of that kind of +inefficiency which in towns is reckoned the hall-mark of gentility. It +taught me the virtue of that independence which makes a man equal to +his own needs. It also saved me from ennui. I found myself living a +much busier life than I had ever lived. I had never worked so hard, +and yet there was not a single part of my work that did not add to my +delight. And I worked for direct results, for things I could see, and +things which I might justly claim as my own, since I had created them. + +I shall perhaps fall under the suspicion of morbid sensitiveness when I +confess that I never took my weekly wage in London without a qualm and +a compunction, for I could never make myself believe that I had really +earned it. What had I done? I had simply performed a few arithmetical +processes which any schoolboy might have done as well. My labour, such +as it was, was absorbed instantly in the commercial operations of a +great firm. I could not trace it, and I had no means of estimating its +value. The money I took for it seemed therefore to come to me by a +sort of legerdemain. That some one thought it worth while to pay me +was ostensible proof that my work was really worth something; but so +little able was I to penetrate the processes that resulted in this +judgment, so vivid was the sense of some ingenious jugglery in the +whole business, that I did not know whether I had been cheated or was a +cheat, in living by a kind of labour that cost me so little. How +different was my feeling now! At the end of an hour's spade-work, I +saw something actually done, of which I was the indisputable author. +When I laid down the saw and plane and hammer, and stretched my aching +back, I saw something growing into shape, which I myself had created. +There was no jugglery about this; there was immediate intimate relation +between cause and effect. And thence I found a kind of joy in my work, +which was new and exquisite to me. I stood upon my own feet, +self-possessed, self-respecting, efficient for my own needs, and +conscious of a definite part in the great rhythm of infinite toil which +makes the universe. It is only when a man works for himself that this +kind of joy is felt. So enamoured was I of this new joy, that had it +been possible I would have possessed nothing that was not the direct +result of my own labour. I would have liked to have spun the wool for +my own clothes, and have tanned the leather for my own boots. I would +have liked to grow the corn for my own bread, and have killed my own +meat, as the savage or the primitive settler does. In this respect the +savage or the primitive settler approaches much nearer the true ideal +of human life than the civilised man, for the true ideal is that every +man shall be efficient for his own needs, with as little dependence as +possible on others. + +Under natural conditions there is enough faculty in a man's ten fingers +to supply his own needs, and all the avocations needful to life may +meet under one hat. The familiar illustration of the number of men +required to make a pin is typical of that contemptible futility to +which what is called civilisation reduces men by mere dispersal of +labour. Such dispersal develops single faculties, but paralyses men. +It is like developing some single part of the human organism, such as a +finger-tip, to high sensitiveness, by drawing away the sensitiveness +from all the rest. To do this reduces life to barrenness; it makes it +meagre in energy and pleasure; it makes work a disease. But in such a +life as I now lived, it was not a finger-tip that worked but the whole +man. The cabbage I cut for dinner was fashioned from my own substance, +for my sweat had nourished it. The butter I ate was part of my own +energy, spent over the churn, come back to me in the freshness and +firmness of edible gold. My bread was baked in a flame kindled at my +own heart [Transcriber's note: hearth?], and it was the sweeter for it. +When I lay down at night I was quits with Nature. I had paid so much +energy into her bank, and had a right to the dividend of rest she gave +me. + +Apart from all other things, the economy of this mode of life will be +at once perceived. My expenses sank steadily month by month. I made a +good many mistakes, of course, for there is more than meets the eye in +remunerative gardening, chicken farming, and bee-keeping, as there is +in most human occupations which appear delusively simple. It took me +some time to rectify these mistakes, but before a year had passed I +found myself raising all my own garden produce, well supplied with eggs +and poultry for my own table, and able to earn a little by the sale of +my superfluous stock. Some articles, such as coal, were excessively +dear; but then, as a set-off, I could have all the wood I required for +next to nothing, and we burned more wood than coal. Groceries I +purchased in wholesale quantities from a Manchester store, so that in +spite of carriage I paid less for them than I had paid in London, and +secured the best quality. My trout rod served my breakfast table, and +my gun brought me many a dinner. In short, I found that small as was +the sum of money which I had earned, yet it was more than enough for my +needs. + +Winter is, of course, the trying time for a resident in the country. +About the beginning of December the weather broke, and there was a week +of driving rain. A fortnight of grey weather followed, and then came +three days of heavy snow. From the moment that the snow ceased winter +became delightful. No words of mine can describe the glory of these +winter days. It is only of late years that people have discovered that +Switzerland is infinitely more beautiful in winter than in summer; some +day they will discover the same truth about the Lake District. It +happened one day in midwinter that business took me as far as Keswick, +and I shall never forget the astonishment and delight of that visit. +Skiddaw was a pure snow mountain, a miniature Mont Blanc; Derwentwater +was blue as polished steel, covered with ice so clear that it was +everywhere transparent; the woods were plumed with snow, and over all +shone the sun of June, and the keen air tingled in the veins like wine. +Beside the road the drifts ran high, hollowed by the wind into a +hundred curves and cavities, and in each the reflected light made a +tapestry of delicate violet and rose. Those who imagine that snow is +only white--dead, cold white--have never seen the pure new-fallen snow, +when the stricture of the frost begins to bind it; such snow has every +colour of the rainbow in it, and where it is beaten fine it is like a +dust of diamonds. Under a hard grey sky snow appears dead white; but +under such a sun as this it glowed and sparkled with all the glories of +an ice cave. And then came the sunset, a sunset to be dreamed of. +Skiddaw was a pyramid of rosy flame; great saffron seas of light lay +over the Catbells, the immense shoulders of Borrowdale were purple, and +the lake was truly a sea of glass and fire. Nor was this a singular +and unmatched day. For a whole month the pageant of the snow lasted. +Close to my own door were glories scarcely inferior to those of +Borrowdale and Derwentwater. The glen was rich with all the fantastic +arabesque of the frost, the moor was like a frozen sea, and four miles +away lay Buttermere, ringing from morn to night with the sound of +skates. There is no greater error than to suppose winter a drear and +joyless season in the country. It has delights of its own unimagined +by the townsman, to whom winter means burst pipes and slushy streets, +and snow that is soiled even as it falls. But among mountains winter +has its own incomparable glories, and holds a pageant not inferior to +summer's. + +But even in days of rain life had its pleasures. However bad the +weather might be there were few days when we could not be abroad for +some hours, and none when the mountains had not some peculiar beauty to +reveal. At the end of a day of rain there were often splendid +half-hours, just before sunset, when the mountains glowed with richest +colour; when through the rift of thinning clouds some vast peak named +like a torch, and the mist blew out like purple banners, and the +watercourses sparkled like ropes of brilliants hung on the scarred +rocks, and the air was fresh and fragrant with all the perfume of +health. Fog we seldom had, and when it came, it rarely lasted beyond +midday. And then there were the warm delights of winter evenings, when +the wood fire blazed upon the hearth, and the gale roared against the +windows. + +I have already remarked that books read in the solitude of the country +always make a deeper impression on my mind than books read in the +uneasy leisure of towns. I found this doubly true when I came to live +in the country. I came to my books with a keener and healthier brain. +The great masters of literature resumed their sway over me; Scott, +Shakespeare, Cervantes, long-neglected, took powerful hold upon my +mind. It is not to dwellers in the town that great writers ever make +their full appeal. They are too occupied with the trivial dramas of +life among a crowd, too disturbed by the eddy and rush of the life +around them. But for the dweller in solitude these great writers erect +a theatre, which is the only theatre he knows. He is able to attend to +the drama presented to him, and to be absorbed by it. He discusses the +actors and their doings as though they were real personages. Effie +Deans and Varley, Ophelia and Don Quixote, were for us creatures whom +we knew. It was the same with later writers. Byron's poetry once more +appealed to me by its revolutionary note, Shelley was interpreted +afresh to me by these mountains which he would have loved. One +incident I recollect which may serve to illustrate this new hold which +imaginative literature took upon me. I opened one evening _Great +Expectations_, and began to read it aloud. The next morning, at five +o'clock, my two boys were contending for the book. For a month Pip sat +beside our hearth, and Joe Gargery winked at us, and 'that ass' +Pumblechook mouthed his solemn platitudes. We were continually +reminding each other never to forget 'them as brought us up by hand.' +Could any book have laid hold of us after this fashion if it had been +read in the hurried leisure of a city life? It was the very absence of +incident in our quiet lives that made these imaginary incidents +delightful. We lingered over the books we read, extracting from them +all their charm, all their wisdom, and there was more good talk, more +discriminating criticism heard in my cottage in a month than would be +heard in a London drawing-room in a year. And the explanation is +simple. We had no trivialities to talk about; none of those odds and +ends of gossip that do duty for conversation in cities; and thus such +talk as we had concerned itself with real thoughts, and the thoughts of +wise men and great writers. + +One of the principal occupations of my first winter was the education +of my boys. After the approved modern fashion I had intrusted this +task to others, upon the foolish assumption that what I paid heavily +for must needs be of some value. I discovered my delusion the moment I +came to look into the matter for myself. I found that they knew +nothing perfectly: certain things they had learned by rote, and could +recite with some exactitude, but of the reasons and principles that +underlie all real knowledge they knew nothing. I believe this to be +characteristic of almost all modern education, especially since +competitive examinations have set the pace. The brain is gorged with +crude masses of undigested fact, which it has no power to assimilate. +Fragments of knowledge are lodged in the mind, but the mind is not +taught to co-ordinate its knowledge, or, in other words, to think and +reason. The yearly examination papers of public schools and +universities afford ample and often amusing illustrations of this +condition of things. I remember an Oxford tutor, who set papers for a +certain Theological College, telling me that one year he put this +question: 'Give some account of the life of Mary, the mother of our +Lord.' This was a question which obviously required some power of +synthesis, some exercise of thought and skill in narrative. One bright +youth, after a feeble sentence or two in which the name of Mary was at +least included, went on to say, 'At this point it may not be out of +place to give a list of the kings of Israel.' Here was something he +did know, and it was something not worth knowing. I found that my boys +had been educated on much the same principle. They could do a simple +problem of mathematics after a fashion; that is, they could recite it; +but it had never once been suggested to them as an exercise of reason. +It was the same with history; they could recite dates and facts, but +they had no perception of principles. It may be imagined that I had to +go to school again myself before I could attempt to instruct them. I +had to take down again my long disused Virgil and Cicero, and work +through many a forgotten passage. At first the task was distasteful +enough, but it soon became fascinating. My love of the classics +revived. I began to read Homer and Thucydides, Tacitus and Lucretius, +for my own pleasure. It was delightful to observe what interest my +boys took in Virgil, as soon as they discovered that Virgil was not a +mere task-book, but poetry of the noblest order. By avoiding all idea +of mere unintelligent task-work, I soon got them to take a real +interest in their work, until at last they came to anticipate the hour +of these common studies. I took care also to never make the burden of +study oppressive. Two hours of real study is as much as a young boy +can bear at a time. He should rise from his task, not with an +exhausted, but with a fresh and quickened, mind. On very fine days it +was understood that no books should be opened. Such days were spent in +fishing, in mountain-climbing, or in long cycling excursions, and the +store of health laid up by these days gave new vigour to the mind when +the work of education was resumed. + +When the summer came on, life became a daily lyric of delight. By five +in the morning, sometimes by four, we were out fishing. In the narrow +part of the glen there was a place where the rocks met in a wild +miniature gorge, and through them the water poured into a large +circular rock-basin, about forty feet in diameter. This was our +bathing-pool, and the cool shock and thrill of those exquisitely pure +and flowing waters runs along my nerves still as I write. We often +spent more than an hour there in the early morning, swimming from side +to side of our natural bath, diving off a rock which rose almost in the +centre of the pool, passing to and fro under the cascade, or sitting +out in the sun, till sheer hunger drove us home to breakfast. Writers +who boast a sort of finical superiority will no doubt disdain these +barbarian delights, and wonder that memory should be persistent over +mere physical sensations. But I am not sure that these physical +sensations are not recollected with more acuteness than mental ones, +and there is no just reason why they should be despised. I have +forgotten a good many aesthetic pleasures which at the time gave me +keen delight--some phrase in oratory, some movement in concerted music, +and such like--but I never forget the sensation of wind blowing over my +bare flesh as I coasted down a long mountain road on a broiling day in +August, nor the poignant thrill of that rushing water in my morning +bathes. And mixed with it all is the aromatic scent of the pines +beside the stream, the freshness of the meadows, and the song of +falling water. Sometimes, when the river was in summer flood, there +was just that spice of danger in our bathing which gave it a memorable +piquancy. On such occasions we had to use skill and coolness to avoid +disaster; we were tossed about the boiling water like bubbles; +incredible masses of water flowed over us, warm and strong, in a few +seconds, and we came out of the roaring pool so beaten and thrashed by +the violence of the stream that every nerve quivered. Breakfast was a +great occasion after these adventures. Then came a stroll round our +small estate, and an hour or so over books. Matthew Arnold's _Thyrsis_ +was a favourite poem with us all on these mornings. It breathed the +very spirit of the life we lived, but for its sadness--this we did not +feel. But we did appreciate its wonderfully exact and beautiful +interpretation of Nature, and we had but to look around us to see the +very picture Arnold painted when he wrote: + + + Soon will the high midsummer pomps come on, + Soon will the musk carnations break and swell, + Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon, + Sweetwilliam with his homely cottage smell, + And stocks in fragrant blow: + Roses that down the alley shine afar, + And open, jasmine-muffled lattices, + And groups under the dreaming garden trees, + And the full moon, and the white evening star. + + +Such was the life we lived. If we looked back at all to the life we +had left, it was with that sort of sick horror which a prisoner may +feel who has endured and survived a long term of imprisonment. It +seemed to us that we had never really lived before. The past was a +dream, and an evil dream. We had moved in a world of bad enchantment, +like phantoms, barely conscious of ourselves. We had now recovered +proprietorship in our own lives. Work, that had been a curse, was a +blessing. Life, that had gone on maimed feet, was now virile in every +part. This mere fulness of health was in itself ample compensation for +the loss of a hundred artificial pleasures which we had once thought +necessary to existence. We knew that we had found a delight in mere +living which must remain wholly incredible to the tortured hosts that +toil in cities; and we knew also that when at last we came to lie down +with kings and conquerors in the house of sleep, we should carry with +us fairer dreams than they ever knew amid all the tumult of their +triumph. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +NEIGHBOURSHIP + +There is a wonderful passage in _Timon of Athens_ which appears to +express in a few strokes, at once broad and subtle, the picture and the +ideal of a perfect city: + + + Piety and fear, + Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, + Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. + + +The congregated life of man, many-coloured, intricate, composed of +numerous interwoven interests, was never painted with a higher skill. +The word that is most expressive in this description is +'neighbourhood.' It strikes the note of cities. Uttering it, one is +aware of the pleasant music of bustling streets, greetings in the +market-place, whispered converse in the doorways, gay meetings and +laughter, lighted squares and crowds, the touch of kind hands, evening +meals and festivals, and all the reverberation of man's social voice. +A man may grow sick for such scenes as a sailor grows sick with longing +for the sea. There were times when this sickness came on me, this +nostalgia of streets. It was only by degrees I came to see that +neighbourhood has a significance apart from cities. + +The first sensation of the man suddenly exiled from cities is a kind of +bewildering homelessness in Nature. He is confronted with a +spaciousness that knows no limit. He treads among voids. He +experiences an almost unendurable sense of infinity. He can put a +bound to nothing that he sees; it is a relief to the eye to come upon a +wall or a hedge, or any kind of object that implies dimension. There +is something awful in the glee or song of birds; it seems irrational +that with wings so slight they should dare heights so profound. All +sense of proportion seems lost. After being accustomed for many years +to think of himself as in some sense a figure of importance in the +universe, a man finds himself unimportant, insignificant, a little +creature scarce perceptible a mile away. I came once upon some human +bones lying exposed on the side of an old earthwork on the summit of a +hill; heavy rains had loosened the soil, and there lay these painful +relics in the cold eye of day. Two thousand years ago, or more, spears +had clashed upon this hillside, living men had gone to final rest amid +their blood; and it came upon me with a sense of insult how little man +and all his battles counted for in the limitless arena of the world. +The brute violence of winds and tempests had swept these hills for +centuries; and he whose lordship of the world is so loudly trumpeted, +had lain prone beneath this violence, unremembered even by his fellows. +I understood in that moment that affecting doctrine of the nothingness +of man, which coloured mediaeval thought so strangely: like the monk of +the cloister I also had before me my _memento mori_. But in truth I +did not need the bones of dead warriors to humble me; the mere space +and stillness of the world sufficed. My ear ached for some sound more +rational than the cry of blind winds, my eye for some narrower stage +than this tremendous theatre, where an army might defile unnoticed. In +such a mood the desire of neighbourship grows keen. One is cheered +even by the comradeship of his own shadow. It becomes necessary to +talk aloud merely to gain assurance that one lives. So ghost-like +appears man's march across the fields of Time, that some active +expression of physical sensation becomes imperative, in order to +recover evidence of one's physical existence; and thrice welcome, like +the violence offered to the half-drowned, is any kind of buffet which +breaks the dream, and sets the nerves tingling in the certainty of +contact with men who breathe and live. + +The easy and ostensible remedy for such a state of mind is immediate +retreat to the reassuring hum of cities: the more difficult but real +remedy is the reassurance of one's own identity. Many people take the +first course without admitting it; alleging the lack of intercourse or +convenience in country life, whereas the real truth is that contact +with the steadfast indifference of Nature has proved wounding to their +egoism. A vain man cannot maintain his sense of self-importance in the +centre of a vast moor, or amid the threatening bulk of giant hills. He +looks upon nothing that respects him. He can find nothing subservient +to him. Therefore he flies to the crowded haunts of men, and the +porter touching his hat to him for a prospective twopence at the +railway station, is the welcome confessor of his disallowed divinity. +It is, alas! the most common and humbling feature of human nature that +we all stiffen our backs with pride when the knee of some +fellow-creature is crooked in homage to us, although that homage may be +bought for twopence! No wonder that the man in whose character vanity +is the chief essence cannot long endure contact with Nature; Nature +respects no man, and laughs in the face of the strutting egoist. But +if a man will live long enough with Nature to become reconciled to her +impassivity, he begins to recover self-respect, by recovering the +conviction of his own identity. He has that within himself which +Nature has not, the faculty of consciousness. He is but a trifling +atom in the scheme of things, but he is a thinking atom. He sees also +that all living creatures have an identity of their own. Each goes +about the scheme of life in deliberate wisdom. Why should he complain +of insignificance when the bird, the flower, the horse that drags the +plough, the beaver in the stream, the spider on the wall, make no +complaint; each accomplishing its task as intently as though it were +the one task the world wanted done? In the life of the merest insect +are toils as great, and vicissitudes as tragic, as in the most heroic +human life, and to see so much is to attach a new dignity to all kinds +of life. The bird building its nest is doing precisely the same thing +as the man who builds his house, and with an equal skill of +architecture. The flower, fighting for its life, is engaged in the +same struggle as man, for whom every breath and pulse-beat is a victory +over forces that threaten his destruction. The world is full of +identities, each unmoved by the tremendous scale of its environment. +Hence a new kind of neighbourship is possible, wider and more catholic +than the neighbourship between man and man. Kinship, not in kindred, +but in universal life, becomes possible. There is no sense of +loneliness in a country life after that discovery is made. The +emptiest field is as populous as the thronged city. The Academy of +God's art opens every spring upon the gemmed hillside. The building of +a new metropolis as wonderful as London is going on beneath the thatch +where the bees toil. All that constitutes human magnificence is seen +to be but a part, and not a large part either, of a yet wider +magnificence of effort and achievement; for of the flowers of the field +we can say, 'Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of +these.' + +The fact is that civilised man moves in a much too narrow range of +affinities. He has forgotten the rock from which he was hewn, and the +hole of the pit from which he was dug. He has reduced the keyboard of +his sympathies by whole octaves. The habit of shutting up his body +within walls, has produced the corresponding habit of shutting up his +mind within walls. Hence Nature, which should be an object of delight +to him, becomes a cause of terror or repugnance. Solitude, which is +one of the most agreeable sensations of the natural man, is one of the +most painful and alarming sensations of the civilised man. The +civilised man needs to be born again that he may enter the kingdom of +Nature; for to enter either the kingdom of grace or of Nature the same +process is necessary--we must become as little children. Thoreau has +described this experience in terms which might apply equally to the +religious mystic or the Nature-lover. He tells us that for a brief +period after he came to live in the woods he felt lonesome, and +'doubted if the near neighbourhood of man was not essential to a serene +and healthy life. To be alone was something unpleasant. But I was at +the same time conscious of a slight insanity in my mood, and seemed to +foresee my recovery. In the midst of a gentle rain, while those +thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of such sweet and +beneficent society in Nature, in the very pattering of the drops, and +in every sight and sound about my house, an infinite and unaccountable +friendliness all at once like an atmosphere sustaining me, as made the +fancied advantages of human neighbourhood insignificant, and I have +never thought of them since. Every little pine-needle expanded and +swelled with sympathy, and befriended me. I was so distinctly made +aware of the presence of something kindred to me, even in scenes that +we are accustomed to call wild and dreary, and also that the nearest of +blood to me and humanest was not a person nor a villager, that I +thought no place could ever be strange to me again.' This experience +marked the rebirth of Thoreau, as truly as a new and delightful +sensitiveness to a spiritual world marked the re-birth of Bunyan. The +whole secret of re-birth lies in the recovery of lost affinities. + +I do not recollect any particular crisis such as Thoreau describes, but +I can trace the process in myself. I took no pains to cast the slough +of cities; I registered no vows and consulted no teachers; it seemed +that the thing was quietly done for me by the Higher Powers. I had no +part in the matter except to be docile. Nature took me in hand, as +sleep takes in hand the sick child; the only thing asked of me was my +submission. The result soon appeared in the altered scale of my +perceptions. I became indifferent to newspapers, to the doings and +performances of public personages, to the rise and fall of literary +reputations, and to a great many books which once interested me. I saw +that a considerable number of those whom I had counted public teachers +were no better than persons who talked in their sleep. They knew +nothing of the elemental life of man, and were unfitted to pronounce +verdicts upon his destiny. Novelists particularly offended me by their +gross ignorance of life. The pictures of life they drew were as untrue +as a description of a street-fight would be if written by a perfumed +odalisque who had never crossed the threshold of a harem. The ancient +elemental life of man, spent in storm and sunshine, under wide skies, +they had not so much as looked at, and their voluminous chatter about +man and his doings had as little relation to life as the philosophy +that is enunciated in a monkey-house. Opera-bouffe performed upon +Helvellyn would be a sorry spectacle; what was all this bedizened rout +of people playing before the footlights of cities, but a vain burlesque +at which Nature laughed? And as my sense of the importance of this +kind of spectacle gradually sank, my appreciation of the serious drama +conducted by Nature, upon a stage as old as time, whose footlights are +the changeless planets, gradually rose. I had become the neighbour of +Eternity, through neighbourship with things that are themselves +eternal. I tasted the pleasure of enlarged existence, which had become +possible through enlarged affinities. I had eaten of the Tree of Life, +which grows wherever there is a Garden brought to beauty by the sweat +of man's brow, and I had the knowledge of good and evil. + +One form of neighbourship which brought me perpetual delight was--if I +may so describe it--neighbourship with the stars. I had hitherto +scarce given a thought to astronomy, save of the vaguest kind, and all +I knew of it was derived from the recollection of one or two popular +lectures. This was pardonable in a citizen, who is never able to see +any considerable space of firmament. But when a man comes to live in +the country he can scarce remain indifferent to a pageant so sublime as +the midnight heavens. It is always with him; it obtrudes itself upon +him; it becomes in time the scenery of his life. It pleased me on +clear evenings before I slept to go out and take what I called a +star-bath, a term justified by the real sense I had of waves of soft +light and silence flowing over me, submerging and cleansing me, and +setting my soul afloat. But very soon this purely aesthetic pleasure +became also an excitement of the intellect. An immense curiosity +seized me. I desired to penetrate this lighted labyrinth of space, to +climb these shining terraces, to know where these vast roads led, in +whose profound seclusion God Himself seemed to hide. In a very humble +way I began the study of astronomy, and although I never got beyond its +elements yet my whole life was incalculably enriched by what I learned. +I sometimes felt that of all my neighbours the stars were the +friendliest and wisest. That sense of insignificance, begotten by the +pressure of immensity upon the spirit, of which so many men have +written, I never felt; my most constant feeling was a kind of gladness +which had its root in the conviction of some living friendly Power +behind and in the spectacle. The sense of insignificance, if it came +at all, was associated with the vanities of mankind. It did indeed +seem a strange thing that a man whose thoughts could walk among the +stars, should bend those thoughts to a mean eagerness for gold, a pride +in dress, or the building of palaces, which when achieved are not so +much as a single grain of dust upon an ant-hill. In a universe, whose +arithmetic employs worlds for the ciphers of its reckoning, bigness as +associated with man sounds ridiculous; and the biggest fortune or the +biggest grief are alike infinitesimal. But when the desire of bigness +passes from a man's mind, humility becomes pleasurable, and immensity +is soothing. I forgot to think of the vastness of the stars; they were +for me neighbourly and friendly presences, talking like a wise old +nurse to me of things that happened before my birth, and the ancient +kindness of Him whom a daring poet calls, 'My old neighbour--God!' + +Neighbourship with the earth also became a vital pleasure and a source +of peace. There was a time when I had a vivid horror of death; and as +I look back, and analyse my sensations, I believe this horror was in +large part the work of cities. It sprang from the constant vision of +deformity, the presence of hospitals, newspaper narratives of tragic +accidents, and the ghastly cheerfulness of metropolitan cemeteries. To +die with a window open to the trampling of a clamorous, unconcerned +street seemed a thing sordid and unendurable. To be whisked away in a +plumed hearse to a grave dug out of the debris of a hundred forgotten +graves was the climax of insult. It happened to me once to see a child +buried in what was called a common grave. It was a grave which +contained already half a dozen little coffins; it was a mere dust-bin +of mortality, and it seemed so profane a place that no lustration of +religion could give it sanctity. Dissolution met the mind there in +more than its native horror; it had the superimposed horror of +indecency and wilful outrage. But in the wide wholesome spaces of the +world, and beneath the clean stars, death seems not undesirable. A +country life gives one the pleasant sense of kinship with the earth. +It is no longer an offence to know oneself of the earth earthy. I was +so much engaged in the love and study of things whose life was brief +that the thought of death became natural. I saw constantly in flowers +and birds, and domestic creatures, the little round of life completed +and relinquished without regret. I saw also how the aged peasant +gathered up his feet and died, like a tired child falling asleep at the +close of a long day. Death is in reality no more terrible than birth; +but it is only the natural man who can so conceive it. He who lives in +constant kinship with the earth will go to his rest on the earth's +bosom without repugnance. I knew very well the place where I should be +buried; it was beneath a clean turf kept sweet by mountain winds; and +the place seemed desirable. Having come back by degrees to a life of +entire kinship with the earth, having shared the seasons and the +storms, it seemed but the final seal set upon this kinship, that I +should dissolve quietly into the elements of things, to find perhaps my +resurrection in the eternally renewed life of Nature. + +Neighbourship meant also for me kinship, with every kind of life around +me, and some friendly association with my fellow-men. The creatures we +call dumb have a sure way of talking to us, if we will overcome their +shyness and give them a chance. Moreover their habits, their method of +life, their thoughts, are in themselves profoundly interesting. I +seemed to have discovered a new universe when I first took to +bee-culture. The geometry of the heavens is not more astonishing than +the geometry of the beehive, nor is the architecture of the finest city +built by man more intricate and masterly. Here, as in all things, we +are deceived by bulk, counting a thing great merely because it is big; +but if it come to deducing an Invisible Mind in the universe from the +things that are visible, I would as soon base my argument on what goes +on in a bee's brain, as on the harmonies of law manifested in the solar +system. I believe we greatly err in underrating other forms of life +than our own. The Hindu, who acknowledges a mystic sacredness in all +forms of life, comes nearer the truth. Life for life, judged by +proportion, plan, symmetry, delicacy of design and beauty of +adjustment, man is a creature not a whit more wonderful than many forms +of life which he crushes with a careless foot. The creature we call +dumb is not dumb to its mates, and it is very likely our human modes of +communication appear as absurd to the dog or horse as theirs do to us. +We know what we think of the so-called dumb creatures; it might be a +humbling surprise if we could know what the dumb creature thinks of us. +The satire would not be upon one side, be sure of it. + +To the townsman the simple dwellers on the soil seem almost as +incapable of intercourse as the creatures of the field and pasture. +Because they do not know the kind of things the townsman knows, they +are supposed to know nothing. I have already said enough to show how +absurd and insolent is this assumption. My neighbours were few, and +simple-minded; but they possessed many kinds of skill necessary to +their life, they had wisdom and virtue, and upon the whole a kind of +fundamental dignity of nature. They were as shy as woodland creatures +to a stranger's voice; they were highly sensitive to the mere shadow of +a slight, and both suspicious and resentful of patronage; but they met +trust with trust, and where they gave their trust they gave their full +loyalty of friendship. In my youth, as I have said elsewhere, I often +passed a whole day in a forest. I would choose some solitary glade, +where my intrusion was audibly resented by the unseen creatures of the +wood, who fled before me; but when an hour had passed, and the signal +had run through the forest that I meant no harm, those scattered and +astonished creatures reassembled. The whole life of the wood then went +on before my eyes; the birds sang their best for me, the squirrel +performed his innocent gymnastics with an eye to my applause, the very +snake moved less shyly through the grass, as though the word had gone +forth that I was a guest, who must be entertained and made to feel at +home. This experience often recurred to me in my early days at +Thornthwaite. It was some time before I was admitted to the +free-masonry of the scanty social life around me; when at last I had +paid my footing I found that here also was a commonwealth; here also +might be found upon a narrow scale, but in authentic forms, + + Piety and fear, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE WOUNDS OF A FRIEND + +Those who have been friendly enough to follow me so far in my little +story will scarcely push their friendship so far that they will refrain +from criticism upon myself and my doings. On one point, viz. the +social morality of my conduct, I am so sure of criticism that I will +anticipate it with self-criticism. Had I the moral right to desert the +city, and to ignore the social obligations of the city, in order to +find a life that was more pleasurable to myself? A city which presents +a depressing variety of social needs can hardly afford to spare any +good citizen, however humble, who is capable of social service, and for +such a citizen to contract himself out of his obligations is very like +skulking. I confess that this consideration occasioned me some +uneasiness, and the questions which it raised have been treated with +such admirable lucidity by a friend of mine, who still resides in +London, that I will let him put the case against me. + +The friend of whom I speak belongs to that class which may be roughly +described as Earnest Good People. With very small means, and not much +spare time at his disposal, he is nevertheless constantly engaged in +what is called the work of Social Amelioration. The problems of city +squalor, vice, and ignorance haunt him like a nightmare. When a very +young man he made a voyage of discovery among the submerged tenth; got +acquainted with tramps, night strollers, and wastrels on the Thames +Embankment; slept in doss-houses and Salvation Army shelters; tried his +hand on experimental philanthropy among the slums; and was driven +half-frantic by what he saw. He has the makings of a saint in him; of +a Francis of Assisi, of a Father Damien. He teaches in night-schools, +conducts Penny Banks, and is grateful to any one who will introduce him +to a desperate social enterprise which no one else will attempt. The +first business of life, he is fond of saying, is not to get good, but +to do good. Of pleasure, in the usual sense of the term, he knows +nothing, and would grudge the expenditure of a sixpence upon himself as +long as he knew a cadger or a decayed washerwoman who seemed to have a +better claim to it. London is for him not a home, but a battlefield, +and his spirit is the spirit of the soldier who dare not forsake his +post. + +Many years ago, when I was going for my summer holiday, he wrote me a +reproachful poem, from which I quote a part, because it is the best +index to his own character and the most lucid exposition of his own +attitude to life which I can recall: + + + The roar of the streets at their loudest + Rises and falls like a tune; + Midday in the heart of London, + Midway in the month of June. + + And blue at the end of a valley + I see the ocean gleam, + And a voice like falling water + Speaks to me thro' a dream. + + It calls, and it bids me follow; + Ah, how the worn nerves thrill + At the vision of those green pastures + And waters running still! + + But I dare not move nor follow, + For out of the quivering heat + Another vision arises + And darkens at my feet-- + + White faces worn with the fever + That crouches evermore + In the court and alley, and seizes + The poor man at his door, + + Float up in my dream and call me, + And cry, If Christ were here + He had not left us to perish + In the fever-heat of the year! + + God knows how I yearn for the mountains + And the river that runs between! + Ah, well, I can wait--and the pastures + Of heaven are always green. + + +No one will question the nobility of sentiment in these simple lines, +and they are the genuine expression of the man. In his case, however +slight may be his claim to be called a poet, that hardest test of the +poet is fulfilled:-- + + + The gods exact for song + To become what we sing. + + +It will be imagined that a man of this order would view my retreat from +London with disfavour. He thought me guilty of a kind of social +perfidy. No doubt the Earnest Good People, for whom I have the +greatest reverence, will agree in the same verdict. A letter received +during the last few days from my friend puts the case with such force, +and yet with such good-feeling, that I will transcribe a part of it. + +'I confess,' he writes, 'that the pleasures of life among the mountains +leaves me cold. It is not that I am incapable of the same kind of +pleasure, but, as you know, I have other ideas concerning the uses of +life. I cannot enjoy sunsets while men and women are starving. The +thought of all the misery of life for multitudes would, as Rossetti +puts it, "make a goblin of the sun." You used to be very eloquent +against good men who lived only for their own pleasure; are not you +yourself living in the same way? I have heard you declaim against the +gross selfishness of Goethe's aim in life--"to build the pyramid of his +own intellectual culture"; are not you, in your own way, pursuing the +same ideal? I have heard you say that nothing so belittled Goethe in +your judgment as the fact that he was destitute of patriotism; he dwelt +at ease among his books, while his country perished and felt no pang; +and you live your joyous life among the hills, and have forgotten the +Golgothas on which the poor of London endure their unpitied martyrdom. +You are doing good to yourself, no doubt; but is it not a better thing +to be doing good to others? I marvel that you can sleep at peace amid +the wailing of the world. I cannot, and I thank God I cannot. + +'What you do not seem to realise is that all our acts must be judged +not only from the personal, but from the collective standpoint. +Suppose all men followed your example, what would happen? Why, cities +would soon become the mere refuse-heaps of the unfit. The drudges +would remain, the captains of industry would be gone. There would be +no leaven of higher intelligence left, no standard of manners, nothing +that could set the rhythm of life. This is too much the case already. +The merchant, the writer, the man of wealth and culture, live as far as +they can from the struggling crowd. You would extend the process, and +make it possible for the clerk as well as the merchant. If your new +gospel of a return to Nature succeeds, we shall soon see the universal +exodus of the best intellectual and physical units of the community. +But you forget that some millions will remain behind, who cannot flee. +Have you no obligations to these? + +'Besides this, you do not seem to perceive that the ultimate drift of +the new gospel is toward anarchy. The return to nature is practically +a return to barbarism. You would have all men content so long as they +grew enough potatoes for their daily needs. You would have England +return to the conditions of the Saxon heptarchy. Each man would squat +upon his clearing in the forest, ignobly independent, brutally content. +There would be no longer that struggle for life which develops +capacity, that urging onward of the flood of life which cuts for itself +new channels, that passion for betterment which means progress. You +save yourself from the collisions of life; but it is in such collisions +that the finest fires are struck out of the heart of humanity. Again, +I say, any course of action must be judged by its collective effect +before it can be rightly understood. It is not the individual that +counts, but the race. A good for the individual is not permissible +unless it is a good also for the race. I do not admit that your new +way of life is an entire good for you, for I believe you must in time +suffer from your isolation; but even if I did admit it, I should deny +your right to it, if in its large effects it means an ill for the race. +Would you venture to say that the race would profit by it if your +example were largely imitated? I think you dare not say so much, for +you must be aware that the general desertion of cities would mean the +decay of commerce and of the arts, the arrest of progress, and national +disintegration. And if your own personal example would bear only evil +fruit were it elevated to a law of life, it stands condemned. + +'For my own part, I am where you left me. I am in the same +rooms--dull, stuffy, inconvenient--you know all about them. I breathe +quantities of bad air every day, and see a hundred things that distress +me. I go three nights a week to the room in Lucraft's Row; struggle +with the young barbarians of the slums, and am content if I see but a +few signs of order evolving themselves out of chaos. A week ago I was +knocked down by a ruffian, who came next day to apologise on the +three-fold ground that he was drunk, that he did not know it was me he +struck, and that if he had known he never would have done it. My +ruffian was very penitent. He has since signed the pledge and is my +firm friend. I chased him out of a public-house last night, and made +him come home to my lodgings with me, where I gave him coffee, and sang +songs to him. He followed all my movements with the big wistful eyes +of a dog. There were tears in those eyes when he bade me good-night. +He brushed them away with a dirty hand, and said, "I know I can keep +straight now, sir, because you are my pal, and I ain't a-going against +the wishes of my pal!" This morning he left a pineapple at the door +for me--he is a coster, and pineapples are cheap just now. I felt more +pleasure than I can say; I could have sung over my work all day, so +glad was I. My dear fellow, don't think I speak pharisaically--you +know me too well; but I do believe I got more genuine pleasure out of +my experience with this rough fellow than you will ever get out of your +sunsets. Lucraft's Row is a dull place enough, but when a ray of light +does shine into it, it brings with it more than common joy. + +'My objection to your new mode of life is that it is entirely +self-centred. There is no projection of yourself into other lives. +You are contributing nothing to the common stock of moral effort. You +are simply marooned. It alters nothing that you have marooned yourself +under conditions that please and content you. I think that if I were +marooned upon the fairest island of the Southern Seas, where I had but +to bask in the sunshine and stretch out my hand to find delightful +food, there would be still something in my lot which I should find +intolerable. I should spend my days upon the island's loftiest crag, +watching for a sail. The thought of a thousand ships not far away, +rushing round the globe, with throb of piston, crack of cordage, strain +of timber, buffeting of waves, and shouting crews, would drive me +distracted. What to me were blue skies and soft winds when I might be +sharer in this elemental strife? How should I covet, in all this +adorable and detested beauty of my solitary isle, the grey skies that +looked on human effort, the violent wind, the roaring waves, the +muscles cracking at the capstan, the strong exhilaration of peril, +effort, conflict, and the glory of hourly contiguity with death! It +was so Ulysses felt: + + + How dull it is to pause, to make an end, + To rust unburnished, not to shine in use. + + +It was so he resolved + + + To follow knowledge like a sinking star, + * * * * * + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +You will not question that the sentiment is manly. Is there not then +something that is unmanly in the opposite sentiment? Or, to be plain, +my friend, is it not lack of courage which has driven you from us, lack +of heroic temper, lack of that divine and primitive instinct which +takes a "frolic welcome" in the "thunder and the sunshine," in the +conflict and the stress of life? + +'I believe that we are bound to be the losers by any wilful separation +from our kind. This was the case with the mediaeval monks and +ascetics; they lost far more than they gained from their separation +from the common life of the people. It is the same still with very +rich folk who are able to evade the harsh conscription of life; in +evading the conscription of life they invariably deteriorate in +physical and mental fibre. I can conceive nothing more ruinous to a +young man than that he should have just enough money to make the toil +for bread unnecessary. More lives have been spoiled by competence than +by poverty; indeed, I doubt whether poverty has any effect at all upon +a strong character, except as a stimulus to exertion. Life being what +it is, we should take it as we find it: we gain nothing by going out of +our way to find an easier path. The beaten road is safest. The man +who boldly says, "Let me know the fulness of life; let me taste all +that it has to present of vicissitude, joy, sorrow, labour, struggle; +let me know all that common people endure, and endure with them; let me +be no exception to the common rule, enjoy no special privilege, ask for +no immunity from things harsh and disagreeable"--the man who thinks and +acts thus is the man who gets the best and most out of life. But you, +my friend, have simply copied the old monks in the arrangement of your +life. There is nothing novel in your action, though just now your +egoism is gratified by the sense of novelty and originality. You have +simply gone out of the world to escape the evil of the world. You have +bought yourself out of the conscription of life. You have yet to +answer me one question: are you the better for it? That question +cannot be answered in a day. Ten years hence you will be able to tell +me something about it, and I shall be much surprised if you do not then +report more of loss than gain. No man ever yet held aloof from his +kind without paying the price in narrower sympathies, a narrower brain, +and a narrower heart. The eternal spirit of Progress which works +throughout the universe never fails to punish the deserter, and the +most common punishment is atrophy. Not to submit to the process of +evolution is to fall down the long slope of degeneracy. + +'You do not need to be told that the entire history of nations confirms +this rule. The greatest nations are those which have found life most +difficult, and they have thriven on their difficulties. The soft +climate, which reduces toil to a minimum, invariably means the +enervated race. Under the harsh skies of Britain a great race has been +trained to great exploits; but what part have the islands of the South +Pacific ever played in human history? Give man a difficulty to +overcome, and he at once puts forth his strength; difficulty is his +spiritual gymnasium. Impose on him no need of exertion, and he will +rot out, just as the races of the South Pacific are rotting out. I +would measure the future of a man, or of a nation, by this simple test; +do they habitually choose the easier or the harder path for themselves? +The nation that chooses the hard path, that is not afraid of the burden +of empire, that glories in the strife for primacy and is not afraid to +pay the price of primacy in incredible exertion, in blood and +sacrifice, is the nation that shall possess the earth. And is it not +so with men? Here, again, I press home the need for considering one's +actions in their collective aspect. Your course of life is easily +imitable: would you have it imitated? There are thousands of men in +London who could readily retire into a peaceful life to-morrow, on +terms more favourable than yours. Every man possessed of a hundred +pounds a year could do it. Yet there are plenty of old men, with ample +fortunes, who never dream of doing it. They stick to their posts and +they die at them. And it is by such men that the great machinery of +social life, of commerce, of national progress is kept going. + +'You would say, perhaps, that they are simply sacrificing the finer +pleasures of life to the fanaticism of work; ah, but they are also +sacrificing them for the good of the community. If the great surgeon +or physician bolted from his duties the moment he had acquired money +enough to buy a cottage, you would say he had no right to rob mankind +of his skill and service to please himself. Have you that right? And +if the whole nation acted in this spirit, how long would the nation +hold its place of power and influence? In less than a century we +should be as the Hottentots. We should be driven out before the +advance of more energetic races, just as the Hottentots; who once +possessed Southern Europe and Egypt, have been forced back into the +African wilderness, where they live a life that is content with the +gratification of the most primitive, the most bestial, wants. It is no +excuse to say that the action of one man can have but little influence +upon the trend of life in a whole nation. The merest unit in the sum, +the cipher even, has power to change the total. The strength of wisdom +in the majority of a nation may be more than sufficient to-day to +counteract the folly of the unit; but there is always the chance that +the folly of the individual may in time prevail against the experience +of the wise, and pervert the nation. At all events, we ought to +consider such possibilities before we hold ourselves free to do as we +please in contempt of general custom. + +'Do not be angry with me when I say that to me your flight from London +appears only an illustration of that cowardice about life which is so +common to-day. Men are very much afraid of life to-day; afraid of its +responsibilities and duties; afraid of marriage and the burden of +children; and not alone for the old are there fears in the way, but +even the young men faint and grow weary. + +'I can understand Stevenson flying to the South Seas; it was part of +his prolonged duel with death. But his heart was in the Highlands, and +could he have chosen, his feet would have trodden to old age the grey +streets of Edinburgh. Your flight is altogether different. You have +no real excuse in ill-health. You have simply fallen sick with a +distaste for cities. You have had a bad dream, and you are frightened. +I love you still; I count you friend still; but I cannot call you brave. + +'O my friend, if I have said anything that sounds unfriendly, do not +believe it of me; do not doubt that I love you. I think I should not +have written thus but that in your last letter you expressed pity for +me, and that stung me, I confess. And so I retort, you see, by pitying +you, which is not admirable in me. Therefore let me say, if you care +still to please me, do not, in any further letters you may write, ever +express the least pity for me. Quite honestly I say I do not need +pity, for I am perfectly happy. In giving all the time and money I can +spare to the poor in Lucraft's Row, I have really renounced nothing; +or, if I have, I am so unconscious of sacrifice that I can only say +with Browning: + + + Renounce joy for thy fellow's sake? + That's joy beyond joy! + + +There are half a dozen ragged boys who love me: there are twenty more +who will do so in time; and there is my drunken friend with the dog's +eyes, who looks to me to save him from the pit; what more can I ask? +Fog and mire, grime and drudgery, these never trouble me, because I see +Lucraft's Row, lit with a star, waiting for me at the end of every day. +And the star is growing bigger and brighter, for it shines over a tiny +obscure Bethlehem where the Soul is getting itself born in a few humble +hearts. To be permitted to see this miracle, to assist in this +incarnation of the Soul of the People, is its own exceeding great +reward; and I may be envied, but never pitied.' + +So ran the letter of my friend, and as I transcribe it I feel anew that +it is an indictment not to be easily set aside. I must think over what +I can reply to it. It seems as though if he be right in his mode of +life I must be wrong in mine; and yet may we not both be right? Are we +not seeing life from different angles? + +Yes, I must have time for thought before I can reply to such a letter. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AM I RIGHT? + +I have given myself a week to think over the letter of my friend, and I +am now able to perceive that it is built upon a number of most +ingenious fallacies. The chief fallacy appears to be this--that he +insists that the race must always count for more than the individual, +and that the individual must fall in line and step with the average +conventions of the race at the expense of his own well-being, or be +judged a deserter and a recreant. + +It is hardly necessary to point out that no doctrine could be more +hostile to collective progress, because progress is not a collective +movement, but the movement of great individuals who drag the race after +them. I do not recollect a single human reform that has been +spontaneously generated in the heart of society itself; it has always +had its beginnings in the hearts of individuals. Thus the Reformation +is practically Martin Luther, the Evangelical revival is Wesley, the +Oxford Movement is Newman, Free Trade is Cobden, and so on through a +hundred regenerations of thought, morals, and politics. 'The world +being what it is, we must take it as we find it,' is a note of quiet +desperation. It is precisely because the Providence of History has +again and again raised up men who were incapable of taking the world as +they found it, that regenerations and reformations of society have +occurred at all. Society never moves forward except when it is goaded +by the spirit of individual genius. So far as we can trace the history +of civilisation, and thanks to modern research we have about ten +thousand years to go by, civilisation is a succession of waves, each +flowing a little higher than its predecessor, with an ebb between each. +At what point is the ebb checked, at what point does the fuller wave +begin to flow? Always with the advent of individual genius. A great +man rises who founds a dynasty; a great thinker, who publishes new +truths; a great lawgiver or statesman, who establishes a new social +system. New worlds need a Columbus, and the social Columbus is always +a man with sufficient daring to stand by original convictions. +Therefore I say that human progress is only made possible by not taking +the world as we find it; and that he is the best friend of collective +progress who is the most obedient not to collective convention, but to +individual insight. + +I observe that my friend does not live in the spirit of his own axiom: +else, why should he trouble himself over the inhabitants of Lucraft's +Row? He is certainly not taking the world as he finds it when he +devotes his hours of leisure to impart the elements of decency to +gutter-snipes, and save drunkards from the pit. He is as much an +individualist as I, only his individualism expresses itself in a +different way; which confirms my original conjecture that we may be +equally right in our own mode of life. Nor, by his own confession, +does he really sacrifice his inclinations in his mode of life; he +gratifies his sense of altruism in Lucraft's Row, and I my love of +Nature in the solitude of lonely hills. The objects which give men +pleasure may be so diverse that what is a source of joy to one man may +be an equal source of misery to another. There can be no doubt that +many of the martyrs and ascetics were honestly enamoured of pain and +whatever credit they deserve for sacrifice, they pleased themselves by +renouncing the world, as others by enjoying it; and all that can be +said on the subject is that each pleased himself in his own way. + +Thoreau's defence when he was accused of not doing good was that it did +not agree with his constitution; and although the defence sounds like a +piece of amusing cynicism, it was in reality a plea entirely just. The +common fault of the Good Earnest People, as of most people, is that +they can only conceive of doing good after a pattern which is congenial +to themselves. But their mode of doing good, while it suits themselves +admirably, may not suit every constitution, and people of a quite +different mental constitution may be quite as good as themselves, +although it is after a very different pattern. Thoreau did a vast +amount of good by showing men, in his own example, that the simplest +kind of life was compatible with the highest intellectual aims; would +he, in the long-run, have served the world half as well had he forced +himself to live amid the squalor of a New York slum? Are not we so +much the wiser and stronger by the lessons taught in the hut beside +Walden Pond, that it would be the poorest compensation for their loss +to know that Thoreau by dint of effort made himself a fairly efficient +city missionary, or pleased the pundits of a Charity Organisation +Society? Or to take a yet more forcible example of my meaning: Hood +wrote _The Song of the Shirt_, and Wordsworth _The Ode on Intimations +of Immortality_; would either have gained by an exchange of lot? The +one poem could only have been written by a man who knew 'the tragic +heart of towns,' and the other by the man who knew the tranquil heart +of Nature; but Hood, transported to Grasmere, would have written +nothing, and Wordsworth in Fleet Street is unthinkable. As it was, +Destiny took the matter in hand, and having men to work upon whose +first principle of life was to fulfil and not to violate the instincts +of their own nature, succeeded in producing two poets who served +mankind each in a way not possible to the other. + +I suspect there is a great deal of cant to be cleared out of the mind +before we can become equitable judges of what doing good really means. +I define doing good as the fulfilment of our best instincts and +faculties for the best use of mankind; but I do not expect that the +Good Earnest People will accept this definition. They would find it +much too catholic, simply because they have learned to attach a +specialised meaning to the phrase 'doing good,' which limits it to some +form of active philanthropy. If they would but allow a wider vision of +life to pass before the eye, they would see that there are many ways of +doing good besides those which satisfy their own ideals. It is a +singular thing that men find it very difficult to live lives of charity +without cherishing uncharitable tempers towards those who do not live +precisely as they themselves do. For instance, the busy +philanthropist, nobly eager to bring a little happiness into the grey +lives of the disinherited, often has the poorest opinion of artists and +novelists, who appear to him to live useless lives. But when Turner +paints a picture like the _Fighting Temeraire Towed to Her Last Berth_, +which is destined to stir generous thoughts in multitudes of hearts +long after his death: or when Scott writes novels which have increased +the sum of human happiness for a century, is not each doing good of the +rarest, highest, and most enduring kind? The fulfilment of one's best +instincts and faculties, for the best use of mankind, is not only the +completest, but also the only available form of philanthropy. Since +Nature has chosen to endow us with diverse faculties, our service of +mankind must be diverse too. In a word, doing good is a much larger +business than the ordinary philanthropist imagines; it has many +branches and a thousand forms; and they are not always doing the most +who seem the busiest, nor do those accomplish most in the alleviation +of human misery whose contact with it is the closest. + +During the last year of my life in London I came into contact with a +brilliant young Oxford man, who had manifest talents for oratory, +leadership, and literature. He was in search of a career, and being a +youth of quick sympathies and very generous instincts, he was soon +caught in the tide of a certain social movement, whose chief aim was to +induce persons of culture to live among the very poorest of the poor. +The leader of this movement was a man of beautifully unselfish temper, +but of no striking intellectual gifts; apart from a certain originality +of character, which was the fruit of this unselfish temper, he was +quite commonplace in mind, and could have aspired to no higher rank in +life than an honourable place among the inferior clergy. He attracted +this brilliant youth, however; a youth who had been president of the +Oxford Union, and had taken a double first in classics, for whom +distinction in life seemed inevitable. The end was that his convert +joined what was really a lay order of social and religious service. He +lived among the slums of Holborn, devoted himself to the instruction of +the children of the gutter, kept the accounts of coal and blanket +clubs, and accepted cheerfully all the drudgery of philanthropy among +the poor. Most people, I am quite aware, will say that this is a very +noble example of renunciation; so it is, and as such I can admire it. +But is there nothing else to be considered? May not the sociologist +ask whether a man is serving society in the best way by refusing to use +his best gifts in the only direction in which they could have full +play? For many years this youth had trained himself for a particular +part in life which few could fill; he might have influenced the +councils of his nation by his powers of debate, the mind of his nation +by his gift of literature; he should have stood before kings and spoken +to scholars; yet all these high utilities were extinguished in order +that he might do something which a man with only a tenth part of his +gifts might have done quite as well. Think of the picture; a scholar +who never opens a book, an orator who addresses only costers and +work-girls, a writer who writes nothing, a leader of men who exerts no +public influence; and what is this wilful destruction of high faculties +but social waste and robbery? No doubt he is doing good; but would not +the good he might have done have been far wider, had he followed the +line of his natural gifts, and occupied the place in life for which +those gifts obviously fitted him? + +This story is a pertinent example of the cant of Doing Good. By all +means let those live among the poor and work for their betterment who +have a distinct vocation for the task; but it is not a vocation for +all. I object to the spectacle of a late president of the Oxford Union +giving up his life to the management of coal and blanket clubs, just as +I object to the spectacle of a thorough-bred racehorse harnessed to a +dray. It is a waste of power. But the Good Earnest People never see +this side of things, because they are afflicted with narrowness of +vision. They admit no definition of doing good but their own. They +cannot see that the man who passes from a distinguished University +career to a distinguished public life may do more for the poor by his +pen, by his power of awakening sympathy, by the opportunity that may be +his to obtain the reversal of unjust laws or the establishment of good +laws, than he ever could have done by living in a slum as the friend +and helper of a small group of needy men and women. Decisive victories +are won more often by lateral movements than by frontal attacks. The +wave of force which travels on a circle may arrive with more thrilling +impact on a point of contact than that which travels on a horizontal +line. Society is best served after all by the fullest development of +our best faculties; and whether we check this development from pious or +selfish motives, the result is still the same; we have robbed society +of its profit by us, which is the worst kind of evil which we can +inflict on the community. + +If this statement of social obligation is admitted as correct, most of +my friend's strictures on my conduct dissolve into mere harmless +rhetoric. For instance, he says I have 'marooned' myself, and goes on +to draw a fancy picture of a South Sea Islander, content with laziness +and sunshine, intimating that this is the kind of life which I have +chosen. On the contrary my life is what most city men would call a +hard life. I work hard every day, the only difference between my work +and theirs being that my work is natural, wholesome, and pleasant, +while theirs is drudgery. In what am I more selfish than the average +citizen, who after all is doing just what I am doing, viz. working for +his living? My friend would have me believe that the man who toils in +cities does so from exalted motives. He is bearing the weight of +empire, assisting in the growth of British commerce, and generally +serving the cause of national progress, while I sit in ignoble +independence on my own potato patch. I have known a good many men +engaged in the lower ranks of commerce, but I have yet to meet one who +is influenced in the least by these highly-coloured motives and ideals. +They are intent on earning their living, no more. Their interest in +commerce is precisely confined to what they can get out of it. They +bear just as little of the burden of the Empire as the tax-gatherer +will permit them. There is not one of them who would not object with +vigour to take a single shilling less per week for the sake of +progress, or any cause that might arrogate that title. Besides, it is +surely a piece of undiluted Cockney egoism to suppose that the only +persons who do their duty by the Empire are Londoners. We are still an +agricultural country, and there are some millions of people who live +upon the land. They do some kind of work, which one may suppose is of +some utility and value to the nation; why should their kind of work be +despised? They also pay taxes, give an equivalent of labour for their +keep, rear children, educate them, and send them out to be of some +service to the State; what does the dweller in cities do more than +these? If I were disposed to argue the question, I should contend that +the man who gets a bushel of corn or a sack of good potatoes out of the +land has added a more real asset to the wealth of the community, and +therefore deserves more praise from the commonwealth, than all the +tribe of stockbrokers since the world began; for these lords of wealth, +who reign supreme in cities, produce nothing. But since my friend is +fond of quoting Browning, I also will quote him, and let the poet say +in the flash of three lines what the dialectician would need a page to +say: + + + All service ranks the same with God,-- + God's puppets, best and worst, + Are we: there is no last nor first, + + +Of course there is no disputing the general truth of the statement that +nations are developed by the call made upon their energies by +difficulty, and their power of response to that call. But why should +such a statement be construed into a reproach on my mode of life? If +my friend, who is probably sitting in a comfortable office at this +moment, adding up figures which he could do almost with his eyes shut, +would condescend to visit my potato patch, he would find call enough +upon his energy. I have almost broken my back, and certainly blistered +my hands, for the last four hours in hoeing my potato trenches into +good level lines, and I have still an hour's work at weeding to do +before I can satisfy myself that I have earned my dinner. I can assure +him that bread-fruit does not grow on my land, nor am I in danger of +being corrupted by a too easy means of subsistence. The worst crime +that can be alleged against me is that I have changed my occupation in +life, but I am very far from being unoccupied. The occupation which I +now follow is the most ancient and most honourable in the world; I +believe that Adam followed it. Is it not a curious irony upon +civilisation, that it has so filled the mind with artificial estimates +of work, that a form of work which is still practised by the great +majority of the world's inhabitants is scarcely regarded as work at all +by the insolent minority of mankind who happen to live in cities? But +I have long observed that there is a universal tendency in men only to +regard as work the peculiar sort of work which they themselves do; and +so the artisan supposes he is the only genuine 'working man,' and the +shopkeeper thinks the life of the professional man a piece of organised +idleness, and the tradition appears ineradicable that all the clergy, +from bishops downwards, never work at all because they do not sit in +offices. It is of a piece with the theory of 'doing good'; for all men +are bigots when they attempt to measure the universal life of men by +their own little egoistic standards. + +As to that imposing axiom, that all our actions must be measured by +their collective effects, I heartily agree to it, because it is +precisely here that I think my case is strongest. I do not, of course, +invite all men to follow my example by returning to what my friend +calls 'barbarism,' and there is so little danger of any such +catastrophe that it is not worth while discussing it. But if any +considerable number of men should think my example good, I would not +deter them from following it, because I believe that no greater service +could be done to society than to multiply the number of individuals who +prefer a simple to an artificial existence, who are willing to live +lives of honest labour and entire contentment, who will care not at all +for riches, but will spend their utmost care upon their virtues, who +will count 'self-possession,' the best of all possessions, and the +power of living in God's world in cheerful happiness and modest +usefulness the real programme of life which God has set before all His +children, and which alone is worth our hope and struggle. The basis of +all good citizenship is physical and moral health. Health is really +wholeness, and so we get the word holiness, for all these words are +products of the same idea. What service to the race can be greater, +both in its present value and its ultimate effect, than to produce men +and women both physically and morally whole? It is no doubt a duty to +do all we can to help the unfit, and assist the infirm; but it is +better wisdom and a truer duty to produce the fit and the whole. In +the degree that I am better equipped as a man, I am better equipped as +a member of the commonwealth. All questions of _doing_ good are +secondary to the question of _being_ good; and to be good is but a +synonym of moral wholeness. If a nation can succeed in producing +efficient human creatures, efficient first of all in body, because that +is the basis of all efficiency of mind, and will, and energy, there +will be no question of efficient citizenship. As for me, I have found +the means of a more efficient manhood by a return to a simple and a +natural life; and therefore I am quite willing to submit my action to +the test of collective example, believing that the more widely it is +imitated, the better will it be for the happiness and well-being of my +nation, and of the world. + +The best way of doing good that I can devise is to make myself an +efficient member of society; and it is obvious that if every man did +this there would be very little work for the professional +philanthropist. It is not help that men need most, but opportunity. +Philanthropy is, for the most part, engaged in patching up the sick +anaemic body of society; which is equivalent to minimising the distress +of ill-health without producing good health. The wise physician knows +very well that no amount of medicine will do much for the anaemic +child; what the child wants is room to grow. We have social physicians +in plenty, each with his own particular medicine, but all of them +together have said nothing half so wise as these two lines of Walt +Whitman: + + + Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons; + It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth. + + +To create the best persons is to accomplish a service for society which +is durable, and therefore is the only real good. I claim that this is +what I have tried to do in my own case, and in no other way could I +discharge my obligation to society so well. Economically considered I +am now a profitable asset to society. I do a man's work every day, and +I earn my keep. When the time comes for my children to go out into +life they will take with them good thews and muscles, sound bodies, and +well-furnished minds. I imagine that this is about as good a +contribution to the cause of Progress, the service of Commerce, and the +maintenance of Empire, as any one man can make. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CITY OF THE FUTURE + +After four years' experiment in Quest of the Simple Life I am in a +position to state certain conclusions, which are sufficiently +authoritative with me to suggest that they may have some weight with my +readers. These conclusions I will briefly recapitulate. + +The chief discovery which I have made is that man may lead a perfectly +honourable, sufficing, and even joyous existence upon a very small +income. Money plays a part in human existence much less important than +we suppose. The best boon that money can bestow upon us is +independence. How much money do we need to secure independence? That +must depend on the nature of our wants. Becky Sharp thought that +virtue might be possible on 5000 pounds a year; and, apart from the +question of whether money has anything to do with virtue at all, it is +obvious that she put her figure absurdly high. Most of us put the +figure at which independence may be purchased too high. If our idea of +independence is the possession of an income that allows extravagance, +if life would be intolerable to us without the gratification of many +artificial wants, if our notion of a lodge in the wilderness is the + + + Cottage, with a double coach-house, + The pride that apes humility, + + +at which Coleridge sneered, then only a very few of us can ever hope +for our emancipation. The first step toward independence is the +limitation of our wants. We must be fed, clothed, and lodged in such a +way that a self-respecting life is possible to us; when we have +ascertained the figure at which this ideal can be realised, we have +ascertained the price of independence. + +My experiment I regard as successful, but there are two features in it +which diminish its general application. One is that I took with me +into my solitude certain tastes and aptitudes, which I may claim +without the least egoism to be not altogether common. I had an intense +love of Nature, a delight in physical exertion, and a vital interest in +literature. I was thus provided with resources in myself. It would be +the height of folly for a person wholly destitute of these aptitudes to +venture upon such a life as mine. He would find the country +unutterably wearisome, its pursuits a detestable form of drudgery, and +the unoccupied hours of his life tedious beyond expression. + +In reconsidering what I have written I perceive that unconsciously I +have chronicled only the pleasant episodes of my existence. There is +another picture that might be painted of mountains clothed in cloud, +roads deep in mire, work done under drenching rains, early darkness, +lack of neighbourship, isolation and monotony, a life separated by +continents of silence from all the eager movement of the world. There +are two pictures of the country, equally true; the country of Corot, +idyllic, lovely, full of soft light and graceful form; the country of +Millet, austere, harsh, bleak, impressive only by a certain gravity and +grand severity. We all imagine that we could live in, and we all +desire, the country of Corot. But could we live in the country of +Millet? I confess that I could not have done so without resources in +myself. It required a genuine pleasure in hard physical exercise to +get through the duties of the day, and a genuine interest in literature +to supply the place of those artificial forms of pleasure which relieve +the tedium of towns. I do not know what I should have done without +books in the long winter evenings. Nowhere is a 'city of the mind,' +into which one can retire, so necessary as in the country. There is +also needed an enduring and genuine delight in Nature and outdoor +occupations, which creates its own sunshine under dreary skies. The +mere sentiment of rusticity, created in the townsman's mind by pictures +and novels, soon dissolves before the realities of a genuine country +life. It is Millet, not Corot, who is the most frequent comrade of the +man who looks for months together on the same expanse of fields, and +moves upon the same unchanging round of labour. Therefore it is +necessary to insist that no error could be greater than for a man with +no real aptitude for a solitary life, and no resources of intellectual +pleasure in himself, to attempt such an experiment as mine. He would +weary of it in a month, and would flee, like a child afraid of the +darkness, back to gaslit streets again, with reviling on his lips and +bitter anger in his heart. + +It must also be remembered that I did not go into the country with the +intention of deriving my livelihood from the soil. My sources of +income were separate from my mode of life; and although my income was +at the best very small, yet it was sufficient to secure me ease of +mind. I did indeed discover that the expenses of a simple life were +slight, and that these expenses might be kept low by a moderate degree +of industry in rural pursuits, but I never imagined that I could live +altogether by the soil. I may frankly confess that while I believe it +to be perfectly possible for a strong and handy man, accustomed to +agricultural pursuits, to earn a living from the soil, my example has +little to teach in this direction. The cry of 'Back to the Land' will +be meaningless until general ownership in the land is made possible. +It is the burden of rent, often a cruel and unjust rent, that has +driven men from the land. Not far from me at Thornthwaite there +resided a man and his wife who were among the most frugal and +industrious persons I have ever met, yet they found it absolutely +impossible to earn a living from the land simply because the conditions +of their tenure were unreasonable. For thirteen acres of land, with a +small farm-house and farm-buildings, they paid eighty pounds per annum, +with an additional charge of thirty shillings a year for the right of a +boat upon the lake. The most that they could do with this small +holding was to graze four cows, and in a good season they got nearly +enough hay to feed their cattle during the winter months; but with all +the pinching in the world they went steadily behind at the rate of +about forty pounds per annum. This is a concrete example of the +difficulties of the small farmer, and it is sufficient to show how vain +is the hope of any return to the land as long as rents are maintained +at their present level. Were it possible for an English government to +offer free grants of land as the Canadian government does, or even to +fix rents and provide for the purchase of land as is the case in +Ireland, multitudes of able-bodied men, wearied with the fierce +struggle for bread in cities, would avail themselves of the +opportunity; but under the present conditions of farm-tenure those who +know the country best, know that, except in a very few districts, it is +next to impossible to live by the land. + +In these important respects, I admit that little can be deduced from my +example. All that I can pretend to teach is that any man possessed of +a small but secure income can live with ease and comfort in the +country, where he would be condemned to a bitter struggle in a city; +that a country life presents incomparable advantages of health and +happiness; that it is not dull or monotonous to the man who has a +genuine love of Nature, and some intellectual resources in himself; and +that what are called the privations of such a life are inconsiderable +compared with the real injuries endured by the man of small income, who +earns his difficult bread in the fierce struggle of a city or a +manufacturing town. + +This leads me to a final question, viz. can nothing be done to +regenerate our cities? Is it quite impossible that the City of the +Future should be so contrived as to offer the best advantages of +corporate and communal existence without those intolerable +disadvantages which at present make the city a realm of 'dreadful +night' to the poor, the weak, and the sensitive? + +I began by saying that I am not a hater of cities. I feel their +fascination, and four years of country life have not destroyed that +fascination. When I had occasion recently to return to London for a +week's visit, I was surprised to find with what eager joy I plunged +into the labyrinth of lighted streets, how the blood began to quicken +with the movement of the ceaseless crowd, how much of grandeur and +beauty assailed the eye in the wide perspective of domes and towers and +spires, how the very voice of London, sonorous and confused, like the +noise of a great battlefield, thrilled the spirit, and I felt again +that old and poignant charm of cities, that quickening of the +imagination which lies in mere multitude, that perpetual seduction of +the senses begotten by the revelation of so much effort and +magnificence. There was an indescribable vivacity in this moving +crowd, a contagious animation in the air; and, if truth be told, I +found the air fresher and the sky less grey than I had fancied, for a +south-west wind, soft as velvet and wet with sea-salt, blew through +street and square, and the sky was full of sunshine and of racing +clouds. I could not wonder at the love of cities; it seemed a passion +inherent in modern man, fed and brought to its maturity by centuries of +communal existence. And so the thought grew, that the temper of +enduring antagonism to cities was a temper more and more impossible to +modern man, who has long since left behind the realities of elemental +life, the rude simplicities of patriarchal modes of existence. The +City is with us, and it has come to stay. London grows vaster year by +year, and there is no sign of arrest in its prodigious life. Is it +then a dream quite impossible and vain, that cities may be so +administered as to develop the best life of men, and not to stint it? + +I believe that it is possible, and, most of all, by the expansion of +the city area. There was a reason why men should be closely packed +together in mediaeval times, when cities had their defensive walls +against invaders, but those conditions have long since passed away. +Entire security of life makes for the dispersal of population, and in a +city like London, which has not been exposed to the perils of invasion +for more than two centuries, there is no reason why people should be +confined in narrow areas, From all that we can learn of the most +ancient cities of the world, such as Nineveh and Babylon, we know that +they covered enormous areas, although at no time were they secure from +the capricious tragedies of war. Nineveh appears to have been a group +of cities, united by a common government; cities of gardens and parks, +so that the country flowed into the streets; cities in which the great +temples, and palaces, and public buildings were not confined to any one +quarter, but were scattered through the entire area of the city, giving +an equal dignity to its every part. Let us apply the analogy to +London. Let us suppose a reconstructed London, devised upon the broad +principle of ample space and air according to population; of +congregated and contiguous cities under a common government; of public +buildings of utility and beauty equally distributed; and it is easy to +imagine a London that should combine all the charm of the country with +the advantages of the metropolis. The splendid streets, which are the +main arteries of traffic, would remain, but the squalid tenements and +alleys which are packed away behind them would disappear. A long chain +of parks and gardens would unite the West and East, taking the place of +a host of rotten rabbit-warrens, which are a disgrace to any civilised +community. There would be no quarter of the town relinquished to the +absolutely poor; Poplar would have its palaces of wealthy merchants as +well as Kensington, St. Albans on the north, Reigate on the south, +would mark the limits of the city, and all the intervening space would +be filled with thriving colonies of Londoners, living in well-built +houses with ample gardens. Manufactories would be distributed as well +as mansions. The various trades would not be huddled together in +narrow inconvenient corners of the metropolis; the factory, removed a +dozen miles from Charing Cross, would take its workers with it, and +become the nucleus of a new township. The artisan would thus work +within sight of his house, and that entire dislocation of home-life, +involved by present conditions of labour, would disappear. And each of +these townships would have its baths, libraries, and technical schools, +not dependent on local enterprise or generosity, but administered by a +central body, composed of men of wide views and experience, who should +deserve the great title of the City Fathers; and each would be saved +from the narrow spirit of suburbanism by the proud sense of its +corporate unity with London. + +Such a London no doubt bears the aspect of a futile dream; yet it is +worth while pointing out that in a dim and feeble way this has been the +ideal after which London has been groping ever since the day when the +population first overflowed its normal boundaries. The mischief has +been that nothing has been done upon a grand scale and by organised +effort. A bit of open space has been bought for a park here and there, +while a much larger bit has passed into the builder's hands through +local indifference or apathy. New suburbs have arisen in a day, not +because any central power willed it, but simply by the combined greed, +energy, and enterprise of the speculative builder, who invariably +builds rotten houses, which he sells as fast as he can to guileless +people with a passion for owning house-property. The result has been +confusion, waste, and disappointment. The new township rises without +any adequate provision for roads or railway accommodation. It is +filled by a migratory population who do not realise these +inconveniences or ignore them, as long as the novelty of the thing +charms them; presently they move off again, a poorer population takes +their place, rents drop, and another suburb is left to a precarious +existence. I contend that this necessary expansion of the metropolis +should not be left to caprice; it should be designed upon broad lines +of development. The London County Council should buy up every acre of +land that comes into the market within a thirty-five mile radius of +Central London. It should be for the Council to decide whether such +land as they acquired should be retained for parks and gardens, or +utilised for building. It should be in their sole power to decide the +kind of buildings that should be erected, and to bind themselves to +erect buildings of public utility and convenience, such as libraries, +baths, and concert-halls in a settled proportion to the number of +dwelling-houses. At all costs the speculative builder should be +eliminated. He is the worst sort of parasite on the community. His +dishonesty is absolute, and the mischief which he works is little short +of crime. Since the County Council has established its right to build +houses, and has built them well, let it build all our houses, and give +to other classes beside the artisan the advantage of substantial +tenements. Let it borrow as many millions as it pleases; no one will +complain if its administration is efficient; and after all, we may as +well pay a fair rent to a central body, amenable to public opinion, as +to a private individual whose own gain is the chief matter involved, We +cannot do without the capitalist; but a Communal Capitalist is +infinitely preferable to a private capitalist. Municipal Socialism is +the watchword of the future; and instead of being jealous of the +existing powers of the County Council, I would increase those powers +tenfold; for without the widest kind of power, and even of despotic +power, invested in some central authority, the chaotic expansion of +London will go on to the enrichment of the few and the abiding injury +of the many. + +One of the greatest difficulties in this expansion of the area is the +means of locomotion. It is at present in the power of a railway +company, which is after all only a private trading concern, to create +or ruin the prosperity of a suburb by the kind of provision which it +makes for it necessities. A good, rapid, cheap, and frequent service +of trains is a matter of the utmost importance to a suburb. But here +again, our method of expansion is left to chance and haphazard. The +speculative builder does not trouble himself about a train-service; he +knows by experience that he can attract a population to any given +locality, and he leaves the new residents to discover the +inconveniences of the locality for themselves. It might be supposed +that the railway company, in its own interest, would be quick to profit +by the new population on its line of route; sometimes it does so, but +in many instances it does not. One would suppose by the grudging way +in which extra trains are put on to meet the needs of an increased +population, that the railway company was a beneficent association, +granting favours, instead of a trading concern in search of new +business. The only real remedy for this kind of evil is that all the +means of locomotion within a twenty-five miles radius of Charing Cross +should be in the hands of one central authority. If a County Council +is capable of superintending a tramway system, it should also be +capable of superintending the suburban railway system for the public +good. And if it be thought much too vast an undertaking for the County +Council to become the proprietor of all the suburban lines, it should +at least be in the power of the Council to exercise effective control +over their working, and to compel the companies to make adequate +provision for the outlying populations. + +But it is clear that if factories and businesses were removed into +suburban districts, carrying their armies of workers with them, a good +part of the difficulty of locomotion would soon settle itself. It is +the enormous daily flow of population toward the centre that chokes the +channels of locomotion, and the wisest method of checking this flow is +to make it unnecessary, by establishing manufacturing colonies, on the +pattern of Mr. Ellis Lever's and Mr. Cadbury's colonies at Port +Sunlight and Bourneville. There would still remain the difficulty of +locomotion in the central districts, but with proper enterprise, +organisation, and control, this difficulty is not insuperable. In a +few years we shall look back with wonder and pity to the days when the +infrequent 'bus, the slow and tedious horse-tram, and the exorbitant +cab were the means of locomotion in which a city of six million people +put its trust. The electric tram, clean, frequent, and rapid, will be +everywhere; the electric cab will run at a normal fare of threepence a +mile; perhaps also there will be electric overhead railways, +constructed upon a system which does not interfere with the perspective +of the main thoroughfares, for the overhead electric railway, whatever +may be its defects, is a means of locomotion vastly preferable to the +unventilated tubes on which we now pride ourselves. May we not also +hope that the general application of electric force will do much to +cleanse our atmosphere? With houses lit and warmed by electricity, +factories run by electric force, cooking done in electric ovens, the +vile smoke which darkens and destroys the city would disappear. The +skies of London would be as pure as the sky of the Orkneys, and a +hundred trees and plants, which now perish at the first touch of the +fog-fiend, would grow in our city parks and gardens as freely as they +grow in Epping Forest. With a fleet of electric boats upon the Thames, +running at one minute intervals, the Thames would once more become the +river of pleasure, and a highway of popular traffic. There is no +reason why these things should not be. All that is needed is that +London, through its chosen representatives, should assume the full +control of its own life; working out the scheme of its improvement by +deliberate methods and upon a settled plan; compelling the obedience of +all its citizens to a central authority, and intrusting to that +authority the complete management of its affairs, not as a means of +personal profit, but for the profit and the welfare of the whole +community. + +In the meantime much may be done by personal enterprise. Is there any +real reason why groups of persons, whose employment is in the city, but +whose hearts are in the country, should not found small colonies for +themselves on the outskirts of London? Let a thousand householders +combine themselves into a company; let them choose their own site, +build their own houses; let them erect their own Church--one Church +upon the broad basis of charity instead of dogma would suffice--elect +their own managing committee, and set themselves to the creation of a +true community. Let them possess their own electric plant for heating +and lighting; let every house share the common convenience; and since +domestic labour forms one of the chief difficulties to-day, let common +dining-halls be erected for every hundred persons, where good and cheap +meals could be provided, or from which such meals could be supplied to +private houses, at the bare cost of their production. Let it be the +aim of these communities to collect persons of not one trade or +profession only, but persons of varied occupations to compose their +citizenship, so that as many forms of human energy as might be possible +should be represented, each contributing its own element to the common +life. Let all the trades permitted in the little township be conducted +on co-operative principles, and not for private gain. Let due +provision be made for efficient education, for the cultivation of the +arts, and for the proper means of pleasure. Would not such a +combination of men and women represent the best ideal of a human +community? And can we not see that in the mere economy of means and +money the gain by such a system would be immense? Suppose the +capitalised value of such a township, including the purchase of land, +the erection of houses, draining, lighting, and so forth, were put at a +million and a quarter sterling, which is a generous estimate, this +would impose upon the individual house-holders no more than 40 pounds +per annum, calculated at 4 per cent.; and besides this he would share +in the great economy of co-operative trading. If this estimate be +rejected as inadequate, it is easy to compute the cost by adding a +burden of 10 pounds per annum to each house-holder for each quarter of +a million expended; but even if the total charge reached 50 pounds or +60 pounds per annum for each householder, he would gain immensely in +what he could get for his expenditure, compared with what he could get +for the same money in crowded London. Such a scheme is simply the +application of the principle of co-operation to communal life. It is +not chimerical; if it seem so, it is simply because we are so +ill-trained in morals that we are unwilling to act together in +practical brotherhood. It is not impracticable; it might be achieved +to-morrow if we were in earnest over it. There are hundreds of +thoughtful men who have perceived its attractions, outlined its system, +vaguely desired its benefits; are there not a thousand bold adventurers +in London willing to bring their vague ideal to the test, and to make a +practical experiment which, once successful, would alter the whole +science of living, and go far to solve some of the most difficult +problems of our time? + +It is for such a movement that I wait. Free and glad as my life among +the mountains has been, yet I am sensible that I am deprived of many +elements of human intercourse, which are efficacious in the growth of +thought and the widening of the mind. I count my deprivation light +compared with the higher gains that are mine in the composure of my +mind, the joy of animal vitality, the tranquil days that leave no +bitterness and bring no discord, each joined to each in 'natural +piety,' each inwoven into the calm rhythm of fulfilled desire and duty. +But my pleasure is too little shared to be entirely satisfactory. I +see that there are terms on which my happiness might be communicated; +that there is a mode of life that should combine all the delight of +human intercourse with the tranquillity of natural existence; that the +choice does not lie, and ought not to lie, between the city and the +desert; that it is only by the folly of man, only by his greed, and +haste, and carelessness, and contempt for the communal principle, that +such a choice is forced upon me. The Regenerated City will come in +time, too late perhaps for me to enjoy it; but the City Colony or +Commune may come at any time; and when it comes I will gladly be its +conscript, I will earnestly labour for its welfare, I will humbly seek +to promote its success, believing that in the degree that society +exchanges individualism for co-operation, personal gain for common +good, man will enter on the widening evolution of a real progress, and +find the path that leads him to a truly Golden Age. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEST OF THE SIMPLE LIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 17246.txt or 17246.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/2/4/17246 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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