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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/5319-0.txt b/5319-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6331c44 --- /dev/null +++ b/5319-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2326 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pagan Papers, by Kenneth Grahame + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Pagan Papers + +Author: Kenneth Grahame + +Release Date: June 30, 2002 [eBook #5319] +[Most recently updated: December 26, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: William McClain + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +Pagan Papers + +By Kenneth Grahame + + + + +Contents + + The Romance of the Road + The Romance of the Rail + Non Libri Sed Liberi + Loafing + Cheap Knowledge + The Rural Pan + Marginalia + The Eternal Whither + Deus Terminus + Of Smoking + An Autumn Encounter + The White Poppy + A Bohemian in Exile + Justifiable Homicide + The Fairy Wicket + Aboard the Galley + The Lost Centaur + Orion + + + + +The Romance of the Road + + +Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and his company +during the progress of their famous voyage, few surpass that island +whose roads did literally “go” to places—_“ou les chemins cheminent, +comme animaulx”_: and would-be travellers, having inquired of the road +as to its destination, and received satisfactory reply, _“se guindans”_ +(as the old book hath it—hoisting themselves up on) _“au chemin +opportun, sans aultrement se poiner ou fatiguer, se trouvoyent au lieu +destiné.”_ + +The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of +vitality in roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join it +at Streatley, the point where it crosses the Thames; at once it strikes +you out and away from the habitable world in a splendid, purposeful +manner, running along the highest ridge of the Downs a broad green +ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference from the neighbouring +grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor homesteads tempt it +aside or modify its course for a yard; should you lose the track where +it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in and obliterated by +criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight on, taking heed of no +alternative to right or left; and in a minute ’tis with you +again—arisen out of the earth as it were. Or, if still not quite +assured, lift you your eyes, and there it runs over the brow of the +fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, it disappears indeed—hiding +Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble and brick-work; but a little +way on it takes up the running again with the same quiet persistence. +Out on that almost trackless expanse of billowy Downs such a track is +in some sort humanly companionable: it really seems to lead you by the +hand. + +The “Rudge” is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this +pleasant personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a +characteristic of the old country road, evolved out of the primitive +prehistoric track, developing according to the needs of the land it +passes through and serves: with a language, accordingly, and a meaning +of its own. Its special services are often told clearly enough; but +much else too of the quiet story of the country-side: something of the +old tale whereof you learn so little from the printed page. Each is +instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are martial and +historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town—with its Roman or Saxon suffix to +British root—hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his _vates +sacer,_ passed silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The little +rise up yonder on the Downs that breaks their straight green line +against the sky showed another sight when the sea of battle surged and +beat on its trampled sides; and the Roman, sore beset, may have gazed +down this very road for relief, praying for night or the succouring +legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at you from under +her sun-bonnet—so may some girl-ancestress of hers have watched with +beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with the heathen +and break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And yonder, where +the road swings round under gloomy overgrowth of drooping boughs—is +that gleam of water or glitter of lurking spears? + +Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty +hedges overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and +beast, living in frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable +lessons each of the other; over the full-fed river, lipping the +meadow-sweet, and thence on either side through leagues of hay. Or +through bending corn they chant the mystical wonderful song of the +reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most of them, +avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley +by gentle ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of +keen fragrance in the air, by some mystery of added softness under +foot—ever a promise of something to come, unguessed, delighting. Till +suddenly you are among the pines, their keen scent strikes you through +and through, their needles carpet the ground, and in their swaying tops +moans the unappeasable wind—sad, ceaseless, as the cry of a warped +humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is fulfilled, the hints and +whisperings become fruition: the ground breaks steeply away, and you +look over a great inland sea of fields, homesteads, rolling woodland, +and—bounding all, blent with the horizon, a greyness, a gleam—the +English Channel. A road of promises, of hinted surprises, following +each other with the inevitable sequence in a melody. + +But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of _chemins qui +cheminent:_ dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, +veritably _se guindans,_ may reach his destination _“sans se poiner ou +se fatiguer”_ (with large qualifications); but _sans_ very much else +whereof he were none the worse. The gain seems so obvious that you +forget to miss all that lay between the springing stride of the early +start and the pleasant weariness of the end approached, when the limbs +lag a little as the lights of your destination begin to glimmer through +the dusk. All that lay between! “A Day’s Ride a Life’s Romance” was the +excellent title of an unsuccessful book; and indeed the journey should +march with the day, beginning and ending with its sun, to be the +complete thing, the golden round, required of it. This makes that mind +and body fare together, hand in hand, sharing the hope, the action, the +fruition; finding equal sweetness in the languor of aching limbs at eve +and in the first god-like intoxication of motion with braced muscle in +the sun. For walk or ride take the mind over greater distances than a +throbbing whirl with stiffening joints and cramped limbs through a +dozen counties. Surely you seem to cover vaster spaces with Lavengro, +footing it with gipsies or driving his tinker’s cart across lonely +commons, than with many a globe-trotter or steam-yachtsman with diary +or log? And even that dividing line—strictly marked and rarely +overstepped—between the man who bicycles and the man who walks, is less +due to a prudent regard for personal safety of the one part than to an +essential difference in minds. + +There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed +be experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a +Turkish bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only +felt at its fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open +air. “A man ought to be seen by the gods,” says Marcus Aurelius, +“neither dissatisfied with anything, nor complaining.” Though this does +not sound at first hearing an excessive demand to make of humanity, yet +the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such a sight in these +unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, ’tis when after many a mile +in sun and wind—maybe rain—you reach at last, with the folding star, +your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, comfortable +strangeness, after unnumbered chops with country ale, the hard facts of +life begin to swim in a golden mist. You are isled from accustomed +cares and worries—you are set in a peculiar nook of rest. Then old +failures seem partial successes, then old loves come back in their +fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of regret, then old +jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing of the gods above, +nothing of men below—not even their company. To-morrow you shall begin +life again: shall write your book, make your fortune, do anything; +meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings round, and you seem to +hear it circle to the music of the spheres. What pipe was ever thus +beatifying in effect? You are aching all over, and enjoying it; and the +scent of the limes drifts in through the window. This is undoubtedly +the best and greatest country in the world; and none but good fellows +abide in it. + + Laud we the Gods, +And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils +From our blest altars. + + + + +The Romance of the Rail + + +In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that +is wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of +the steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no longer +begins to work at the point where vision ceases. In happier times, +three hundred years ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked out +from the prows of their vessels in the grey of the morning, and wot not +rightly whether the land they saw might be Jerusalem or Madagascar, or +if it were not North and South America. “And there be certaine flitting +islands,” says one, “which have been oftentimes seene, and when men +approached near them they vanished.” “It may be that the gulfs will +wash us down,” said Ulysses (thinking of what Americans call the +“getting-off place”); “it may be we shall touch the Happy Isles.” And +so on, and so on; each with his special hope or “wild surmise.” There +was always a chance of touching the Happy Isles. And in that first fair +world whose men and manners we knew through story-books, before +experience taught us far other, the Prince mounts his horse one fine +morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a forest; and next morning, +lo! a new country: and he rides by fields and granges never visited +before, through faces strange to him, to where an unknown King steps +down to welcome the mysterious stranger. And he marries the Princess, +and dwells content for many a year; till one day he thinks “I will look +upon my father’s face again, though the leagues be long to my own +land.” And he rides all day, and sleeps in a forest; and next morning +he is made welcome at home, where his name has become a dim memory. +Which is all as it should be; for, annihilate time and space as you +may, a man’s stride remains the true standard of distance; an eternal +and unalterable scale. The severe horizon, too, repels the thoughts as +you gaze to the infinite considerations that lie about, within touch +and hail; and the night cometh, when no man can work. + +To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now +and again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where +iron has superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull +as the measured beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them +is now a matter of effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our +ordinary course; they are no longer unsought influences towards the +making of character. So perhaps the time of them has gone by, here in +this second generation of steam. _Pereunt et imputantur;_ they pass +away, and are scored against not us but our guilty fathers. For +ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The romance of +the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed—not fully nor +worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though Emerson +for one will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its right to +immediate recognition as poetic material. “For as it is dislocation and +detachment from the life of God that makes things ugly, the poet, who +re-attaches things to Nature and the whole—re-attaching even artificial +things and violations of Nature to Nature by a deeper insight—disposes +very easily of the most disagreeable facts”; so that he looks upon “the +factory village and the railway” and “sees them fall within the great +Order not less than the bee-hive or the spider’s geometrical web.” The +poet, however, seems hard to convince hereof. Emerson will have it that +“Nature loves the gliding train of cars”; “instead of which” the poet +still goes about the country singing purling brooks. Painters have been +more flexible and liberal. Turner saw and did his best to seize the +spirit of the thing, its kinship with the elements, and to blend +furnace-glare and rush of iron with the storm-shower, the wind and the +thwart-flashing sun-rays, and to make the whole a single expression of +irresoluble force. And even in a certain work by another and a very +different painter—though I willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate +romantic intention—you shall find the element of romance in the +vestiges of the old order still lingering in the first transition +period: the coach-shaped railway carriages with luggage piled and +corded on top, the red-coated guard, the little engine tethered well +ahead as if between traces. To those bred within sight of the sea, +steamers will always partake in somewhat of the “beauty and mystery of +the ships”; above all, if their happy childhood have lain among the +gleaming lochs and sinuous firths of the Western Highlands, where, +twice a week maybe, the strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a +piece of the busy, mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand +alone in owning to a sentimental weakness for the night-piercing +whistle—judiciously remote, as some men love the skirl of the pipes. In +the days when streets were less wearily familiar than now, or ever the +golden cord was quite loosed that led back to relinquished fields and +wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer nights, thinking of +luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the whistles from +certain railway stations, veritable “horns of Elf-land, faintly +blowing.” Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a phantom +train, and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the journey bit by +bit: through the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the grey glimmer of +dawn showed stone walls in place of hedges, and masses looming up on +either side; till the bright sun shone upon brown leaping streams and +purple heather, and the clear, sharp northern air streamed in through +the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; Endymion-like, “my first touch +of the earth went nigh to kill”: but it was only to hurry northwards +again on the wings of imagination, from dust and heat to the dear +mountain air. “We are only the children who might have been,” murmured +Lamb’s dream babes to him; and for the sake of those dream-journeys, +the journeys that might have been, I still hail with a certain +affection the call of the engine in the night: even as I love sometimes +to turn the enchanted pages of the railway a b c, and pass from one to +the other name reminiscent or suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian +maybe, or savouring of Wessex, or bearing me away to some sequestered +reach of the quiet Thames. + + + + +Non Libri Sed Liberi + + +It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. +That it is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always +fails to find him thus engaged. He will talk about them—all night if +you let him—wave his hand to them, shake his fist at them, shed tears +over them (in the small hours of the morning); but he will not read +them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys his books without a +remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers start with the +honest resolution that some day they will “shut down on” this fatal +practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter into their charmed +circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind them. Then will they +read out of nothing but first editions; every day shall be a debauch in +large paper and tall copies; and crushed morocco shall be familiar to +their touch as buckram. Meanwhile, though, books continue to flaunt +their venal charms; it would be cowardice to shun the fray. In fine, +one buys and continues to buy; and the promised Sabbath never comes. + +The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein resembling +the familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the first sight of +the Object, accompanied of a catching of the breath, a trembling in the +limbs, loss of appetite, ungovernable desire, and a habit of melancholy +in secret places. But once possessed, once toyed with amorously for an +hour or two, the Object (as in the inferior passion aforesaid) takes +its destined place on the shelf—where it stays. And this saith the +scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail to remark with a certain awe +that the owner goeth thereafter as one possessing a happy secret and +radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is insufferably conceited, and +his conceit waxeth as his coat, now condemned to a fresh term of +servitude, groweth shabbier. And shabby though his coat may be, yet +will he never stoop to renew its pristine youth and gloss by the price +of any book. No man—no human, masculine, natural man—ever sells a book. +Men have been known in moments of thoughtlessness, or compelled by +temporary necessity, to rob, to equivocate, to do murder, to commit +what they should not, to “wince and relent and refrain” from what they +should: these things, howbeit regrettable, are common to humanity, and +may happen to any of us. But amateur bookselling is foul and unnatural; +and it is noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, +contains no distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly +known to exist: the face of the public being set against it as a +flint—and the trade giving such wretched prices. + +In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the +reflection that this particular purchase will be a good investment, +sordidly considered: that you are not squandering income but sinking +capital. But you know all the time that you are lying. Once possessed, +books develop a personality: they take on a touch of warm human life +that links them in a manner with our kith and kin. _Non angli sed +Angeli_ was the comment of a missionary (old style) on the small human +duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many a +buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his possession, +must have felt that here was something vendible no more. So of these +you may well affirm _Non libri sed liberi;_ children now, adopted into +the circle, they shall be trafficked in never again. + +There is one exception which has sadly to be made—one class of men, of +whom I would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are strangers +to any such scruples. These be Executors—a word to be strongly accented +on the penultimate; for, indeed, they are the common headsmen of +collections, and most of all do whet their bloody edge for harmless +books. Hoary, famous old collections, budding young collections, fair +virgin collections of a single author—all go down before the executor’s +remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth not. “The iniquity of +oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy,” and it is chiefly by the hand +of the executor that she doth love to scatter it. May oblivion be his +portion for ever! + +Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most +insidious, because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is +the bookbinder. Not in that he bindeth books—for the fair binding is +the final crown and flower of painful achievement—but because he +bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse by and turn to months, and +the months to years, and still the binder bindeth not: and the heart +grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds her hair, +each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and +stream, and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice +whispereth: “Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, full of +bread, with all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At gaming, +swearing, or about some act That hath no relish of salvation in it!” +But when the deed is done, and the floor strewn with fragments of +binder—still the books remain unbound. You have made all that horrid +mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden over again. As a +general rule, the man in the habit of murdering bookbinders, though he +performs a distinct service to society, only wastes his own time and +takes no personal advantage. + +And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in +leathern surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet +weathered the Cape and sailed into halcyon seas. For these books—well, +you kept them many weeks before binding them, that the oleaginous +printer’s-ink might fully dry before the necessary hammering; you +forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder might refold the +sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over—_consummatum est_—still +you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a quiet mind. For these purple +emperors are not to be read in bed, nor during meals, nor on the grass +with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief periods are all the whirling +times allow you for solid serious reading. Still, after all, you have +them; you can at least pulverise your friends with the sight; and what +have they to show against them? Probably some miserable score or so of +half-bindings, such as lead you scornfully to quote the hackneyed +couplet concerning the poor Indian whose untutored mind clothes him +before but leaves him bare behind. Let us thank the gods that such +things are: that to some of us they give not poverty nor riches but a +few good books in whole bindings. Dowered with these and (if it be +vouchsafed) a cup of Burgundy that is sound even if it be not old, we +can leave to others the foaming grape of Eastern France that was +vintaged in ’74, and with it the whole range of shilling shockers,—the +Barmecidal feast of the purposeful novelist—yea, even the countless +series that tell of Eminent Women and Successful Men. + + + + +Loafing + + +When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when Autumn +has been carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good fellows +who look upon holidays as a chief end of life return from moor and +stream and begin to take stock of gains and losses. And the wisest, +realising that the time of action is over while that of reminiscence +has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant with greater pleasures +than the other—that action, indeed, is only the means to an end of +reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the Loafer stands apart +supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher as to the end, goes +straight to it at once; and his happy summer has accordingly been spent +in those subjective pleasures of the mind whereof the others, the men +of muscle and peeled faces, are only just beginning to taste. + +And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the +Loafer does not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they are +very necessary to him. For _“Suave mari magno”_ is the motto of your +true Loafer; and it is chiefly by keeping ever in view the struggles +and the clamorous jostlings of the unenlightened making holiday that he +is able to realise the bliss of his own condition and maintain his +self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he never very far away +from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, but hovers more +or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star amidst whirling +constellations, he may watch the mad world “glance, and nod, and hurry +by.” + +There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of +Scotland. Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its +tranquil “lucid interval” between steamers, the ever recurrent throb of +paddle-wheel, the rush and foam of beaten water among the piles, splash +of ropes and rumble of gangways, and all the attendant hurry and scurry +of the human morrice. Here, _tanquam in speculo,_ the Loafer as he +lounges may, by attorney as it were, touch gently every stop in the +great organ of the emotions of mortality. Rapture of meeting, departing +woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, indifference—he may +experience them all, but attenuated and as if he saw them in a dream; +as if, indeed, he were Heine’s god in dream on a mountain-side. Let the +drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, emanations of his dream, will +vanish into the nothing whence they came. And these emotions may be +renewed each morning; if a fair one sail to-day, be sure that one as +fair will land to-morrow. The supply is inexhaustible. + +But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of +Father Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with its +blisters, perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the bliss +of “quietism.” I know one little village in the upper reaches where +loafing may be pushed to high perfection. Here the early hours of the +morning are vexed by the voices of boaters making their way down the +little street to the river. The most of them go staggering under +hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their voices are clamant +of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they will punt, they will +paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the Loafer hears through +the open door of his cottage, where in his shirt-sleeves he is dallying +with his bacon, as a gentleman should. He is the only one who has had a +comfortable breakfast—and he knows it. Later he will issue forth and +stroll down in their track to the bridge. The last of these Argonauts +is pulling lustily forth; the river is dotted with evanishing blazers. +Upon all these lunatics a pitiless Phoebus shines triumphant. The +Loafer sees the last of them off the stage, turns his back on it, and +seeks the shady side of the street. + +A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed +away with shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of +somnolency is in evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, +let him respectfully greet each several village dog. _Arcades +ambo_—loafers likewise—they lie there in the warm dust, each outside +his own door, ready to return the smallest courtesy. Their own lords +and masters are not given to the exchange of compliments nor to +greetings in the market-place. The dog is generally the better +gentleman, and he is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, +who is not too proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the +time of day. He will mark his sense of this attention by rising from +his dust-divan and accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But +he will stop short of his neighbour’s dust-patch; for the morning is +really too hot for a shindy. So, by easy stages (the street is not a +long one: six dogs will see it out), the Loafer quits the village; and +now the world is before him. Shall he sit on a gate and smoke? or lie +on the grass and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large along the road? +Such a choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last course +is the best—as needing the least mental effort of selection. Hardly, +however, has he fairly started his first daydream when the snappish +“ting” of a bellkin recalls him to realities. By comes the bicyclist: +dusty, sweating, a piteous thing to look upon. But the irritation of +the strepitant metal has jarred the Loafer’s always exquisite nerves: +he is fain to climb a gate and make his way towards solitude and the +breezy downs. + +Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is +alone with the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of +larks and a tinkling from distant flocks break the brooding noonday +stillness; above, the wind-hover hangs motionless, a black dot on the +blue. Prone on his back on the springy turf, gazing up into the sky, +his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the spirit ranges at will +among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. Earth no +longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still “spins like a fretful midge.” The Loafer +knows not nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through golden +spaces of imagination his soul is winging her untrammelled flight. And +there he really might remain for ever, but that his vagrom spirit is +called back to earth by a gentle but resistless, very human summons,—a +gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, thirst: a thirst to thank +Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, half of anticipation, he +bends his solitary steps towards the nearest inn. Tobacco for one is +good; to commune with oneself and be still is truest wisdom; but beer +is a thing of deity—beer is divine. + +Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle +out he will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush and +the meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets of +even. The loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant moan +of the weir; his are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, of the +sunset-haunted surface. By-and-by the boaters will pass him +homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: his withers are unwrung. +Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset glories; no corporeal +pangs clog his _æsthesis_—his perceptive faculty. Some have quarrelled +in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; he is at peace with +himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay them down in the +little village that night, his sleep will be the surest and the +sweetest. For not even the blacksmith himself will have better claim to +have earned a night’s repose. + + + + +Cheap Knowledge + + +When at times it happens to me that I ’gin to be aweary of the sun, and +to find the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core—just because, +perhaps, I can’t afford Melampus Brown’s last volume of poems in large +paper, but must perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny edition +for the million—then I bring myself to a right temper by recalling to +memory a sight which now and again in old days would touch the heart of +me to a happier pulsation. In the long, dark winter evenings, outside +some shop window whose gaslight flared brightest into the chilly +street, I would see some lad—sometimes even a girl—book in hand, +heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and straining eyes, careless +of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil behind them and about, +their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: till the ruthless +shopman turned out the gas and brought them rudely back to the bitter +reality of cramped legs and numbed fingers. “My brother!” or “My +sister!” I would cry inwardly, feeling the link that bound us together. +They possessed, for the hour, the two gifts most precious to the +student—light and solitude: the true solitude of the roaring street. + +Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries +have supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can +enter and call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon “in luxury’s +sofa-lap of leather”; and of course this boon is appreciated and +profited by, and we shall see the divine results in a year or two. And +yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the “Red Lamp,” “I wonder?” + +For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely +wastes and dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the +feeling of restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these +other readers, “all silent and all damned,” combine to set up a nervous +irritation fatal to quiet study. Had I to choose, I would prefer the +windy street. And possibly others have found that the removal of checks +and obstacles makes the path which leads to the divine mountain-tops +less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So full of human nature are +we all—still—despite the Radical missionaries that labour in the +vineyard. Before the National Gallery was extended and rearranged, +there was a little “St Catherine” by Pinturicchio that possessed my +undivided affections. In those days she hung near the floor, so that +those who would worship must grovel; and little I grudged it. Whenever +I found myself near Trafalgar Square with five minutes to spare I used +to turn in and sit on the floor before the object of my love, till +gently but firmly replaced on my legs by the attendant. She hangs on +the line now, in the grand new room; but I never go to see her. Somehow +she is not my “St Catherine” of old. Doubtless Free Libraries affect +many students in the same way: on the same principle as that now +generally accepted—that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our +social code which make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. + +But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, +it remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or two +of Free Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world most +desiderates; and whether the spare reading and consequent fertile +thinking necessitated by the old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive +of sounder results. The cloyed and congested mind resulting from the +free run of these grocers’ shops to omnivorous appetites (and all young +readers are omnivorous) bids fair to produce a race of literary +resurrection-men: a result from which we may well pray to be spared. Of +all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits the original +work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary +expression by pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer’s boy of +letters is sure to prove a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be +fulfilling the programme of its advocates, is breeding such as he by +scores. + +But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation may +be drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would appear +that the patrons of these libraries are confining their reading, with a +charming unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed they cannot do +better; there is no more blessed thing on earth than a good novel, not +the least merit of which is that it induces a state of passive, +unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies the reader to go out and put +the world right. Next to fairy tales—the original world-fiction—our +modern novels may be ranked as our most precious possessions; and so it +has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully pay my five shillings, or +ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly be, in the pound towards the +Free Library: convinced at last that the money is not wasted in +training exponents of the subjectivity of this writer and the +objectivity of that, nor in developing fresh imitators of dead +discredited styles, but is righteously devoted to the support of +wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. + + + + +The Rural Pan + +(An April Essay) + + +Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside the +restless Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little +hoarse from bidding in the market. Further west, down classic +Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the lord of the unerring (satin) +bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in these latter years +float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts than these +the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that reaches +only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins +to blow a clearer note. + +When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities will +abroad too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this that +flieth up the reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the day? +Mercury is out—some dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed banks +crumble and slide down under the wash of his rampant screw; his wake is +marked by a line of lobster-claws, gold-necked bottles, and fragments +of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may even be seen to embrace the +slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, in the full gaze of +the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime reposeth, passively +beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards’ Club at Maidenhead. Here, O +Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity subjectively inclined, he is +neither objective nor, it must be said for him, at all objectionable, +like them of Mercury. + +Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural +Pan. In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may be +paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked +for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment. Or under the great +shadow of Streatley Hill, “annihilating all that’s made to a green +thought in a green shade”; or better yet, pushing an explorer’s prow up +the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester’s stately roof broods +over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these Pan sits and dabbles, +and all the air is full of the music of his piping. Southwards, again, +on the pleasant Surrey downs there is shouting and jostling; dust that +is drouthy and language that is sultry. Thither comes the young Apollo, +calmly confident as ever; and he meeteth certain Mercuries of the baser +sort, who do him obeisance, call him captain and lord, and then proceed +to skin him from head to foot as thoroughly as the god himself flayed +Marsyas in days of yore, at a certain Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good +instance of Time’s revenges. And yet Apollo returns to town and swears +he has had a grand day. He does so every year. Out of hearing of all +the clamour, the rural Pan may be found stretched on Ranmore Common, +loitering under Abinger pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the +sinuous Mole, abounding in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers +the dab-chick and water-rat. + +For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour +with a society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant +combination of Métropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will urge +the horses of the Sun: and, if he leaveth the society weekly to +Mercury, yet he loveth well the Magazine. From which _omphalos_ or hub +of the universe he will direct his shining team even to the far +Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron road and level highway +are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot it along the +sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with feather +and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is unsocial. +Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities, he loveth +the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are _adscripti +glebæ,_ addicted to the kindly soil and to the working thereof: perfect +in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For he is only half a god after +all, and the red earth in him is strong. When the pelting storm drives +the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, among the little group on bench +and settle Pan has been known to appear at times, in homely guise of +hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten shepherd from the downs. Strange +lore and quaint fancy he will then impart, in the musical Wessex or +Mercian he has learned to speak so naturally; though it may not be till +many a mile away that you begin to suspect that you have unwittingly +talked with him who chased the flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the +tide of fight at Marathon. + +Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through—east and +west, north and south—bringing with it Commercialism, whose god is +Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams +with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and +chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part is +still spared—how great these others fortunately do not know—in which +the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet a little +longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last common, spinney, +and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the well-wisher to +man—whither? + + + + +Marginalia + + +American Hunt, in his suggestive “Talks about Art,” demands that the +child shall be encouraged—or rather permitted, for the natural child +needs little encouragement—to draw when- and whereon-soever he can; +for, says he, the child’s scribbling on the margin of his school-books +is really worth more to him than all he gets out of them, and indeed, +“to him the margin is the best part of all books, and he finds in it +the soothing influence of a clear sky in a landscape.” Doubtless Sir +Benjamin Backbite, though his was not an artist soul, had some dim +feeling of this mighty truth when he spoke of that new quarto of his, +in which “a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of +margin”: boldly granting the margin to be of superior importance to the +print. This metaphor is pleasantly expanded in Burton’s “Bookhunter”: +wherein you read of certain folios with “their majestic stream of +central print overflowing into rivulets of marginal notes, _sedgy with +citations._” But the good Doctor leaves the main stream for a backwater +of error in inferring that the chief use of margins is to be a +parading-ground for notes and citations. As if they had not absolute +value in themselves, nor served a finer end! In truth, Hunt’s child was +vastly the wiser man. + +For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and +illustrate the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or “tail” edge, +the saurian, splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of old Nile; +up one side negroes, swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn them, let +fall their nerveless spears; up the other, monkeys, gibbering with +terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees—a plant to the untutored hand of +easier outline than (say) your British oak. Meanwhile, all over the +unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the most inadequate provocation, +or Hannibal pursued his victorious career, while Roman generals +delivered ornate set speeches prior to receiving the usual satisfactory +licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal—all alike were pallid shades with faint, +thin voices powerless to pierce the distance. The margins of Cocytus +doubtless knew them: mine were dedicated to the more attractive flesh +and blood of animal life, the varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, +in more practical mood, I would stoop to render certain facts recorded +in the text. To these digressions I probably owe what little education +I possess. For example, there was one sentence in our Roman history: +“By this single battle of Magnesia, Antiochus the Great lost all his +conquests in Asia Minor.” Serious historians really should not thus +forget themselves. ’Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, to transform +“battle” into “bottle”; for “conquests” one could substitute a word for +which not even Macaulay’s school-boy were at a loss; and the result, +depicted with rude vigour in his margin, fixed the name of at least one +ancient fight on the illustrator’s memory. But this plodding and +material art had small charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a +“clear sky” ever through which I could sail away at will to more +gracious worlds. I was duly qualified by a painfully acquired ignorance +of dead languages cautiously to approach my own; and ’twas no better. +Along Milton’s margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the +Arimaspian—what a chance, that Arimaspian, for the imaginative pencil! +And so it has come about that, while Milton periods are mostly effaced +from memory by the sponge of Time, I can still see that vengeful +Gryphon, cousin-german to the gentle beast that danced the Lobster +Quadrille by a certain shore. + +It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins +is for pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and +crosses, nor (in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled +against the canticle for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent +pew: as used, alas! to happen in days when one was young and godless, +and went to church. Nor, again, are the margins of certain poets +entrusted to man for the composing thereon of infinitely superior +rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a depraved habit, +akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is the +absolute value of the margin itself—a value frequently superior to its +enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and takes +care to get it in “the little verses wot they puts inside the +crackers.” The special popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to epic +verse is due to this habit of feeling. A good example maybe found in +the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is the better poetry, the earlier +remains the more popular—because of its eloquence of margin. Mr Tupper +might long ago have sat with laureate brow but for his neglect of this +first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic of the century, is +pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full meed of glory it +deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote “Beowulf,” our other +English epic, grasped the great fact from the first, so that his work +is much the more popular of the two. The moral is evident. An authority +on practical book-making has stated that “margin is a matter to be +studied”; also that “to place the print in the centre of the paper is +wrong in principle, and to be deprecated.” Now, if it be “wrong in +principle,” let us push that principle to its legitimate conclusion, +and “deprecate” the placing of print on any part of the paper at all. +Without actually suggesting this course to any of our living bards, +when, I may ask—when shall that true poet arise who, disdaining the +trivialities of text, shall give the world a book of verse consisting +entirely of margin? How we shall shove and jostle for large paper +copies! + + + + +The Eternal Whither + + +There was once an old cashier in some ancient City establishment, whose +practice was to spend his yearly holiday in relieving some turnpike-man +at his post, and performing all the duties appertaining thereunto. This +was vulgarly taken to be an instance of mere mill-horse enslavement to +his groove—the reception of payments; and it was spoken of both in +mockery of all mill-horses and for the due admonishment of others. And +yet that clerk had discovered for himself an unique method of seeing +Life at its best, the flowing, hurrying, travelling, marketing Life of +the Highway; the life of bagman and cart, of tinker, and pig-dealer, +and all cheery creatures that drink and chaffer together in the sun. He +belonged, above all, to the scanty class of clear-seeing persons who +know both what they are good for and what they really want. To know +what you would like to do is one thing; to go out boldly and do it is +another—and a rarer; and the sterile fields about Hell-Gate are strewn +with the corpses of those who would an if they could. + +To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one’s soul, +it is possible to push one’s disregard for convention too far: as is +seen in the case of another, though of an earlier generation, in the +same establishment. In his office there was the customary +“attendance-book,” wherein the clerks were expected to sign each day. +Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from appearing; he signs, +indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little later, writ in +careful commercial hand, this entry: “Mr—- did not attend at his office +to-day, having been hanged at eight o’clock in the morning for +horse-stealing.” Through the faded ink of this record do you not seem +to catch, across the gulf of years, some waft of the jolly humanity +which breathed in this prince among clerks? A formal precisian, +doubtless, during business hours; but with just this honest love of +horseflesh lurking deep down there in him—unsuspected, sweetening the +whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from his desk, turning to +pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still striveth to bury his +bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, you may be sure, but +from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the same, he erred; erred, +if not in taste, at least in judgment: for we cannot entirely acquit +him of blame for letting himself be caught. + +In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our melancholy +selves are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, whereof our +happier fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, remains to us; +but every one is not a collector; and, besides, ’tis a diversion you +can follow with equal success all the year round. Still, the instance +may haply be pregnant with suggestion to many who wearily ask each +year, what new place or pursuit exhausted earth still keeps for the +holiday-maker. ’Tis a sad but sober fact, that the most of men lead +flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with their family to some +flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a manner that +is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not +try crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular branch—for +every one must himself seek out and find the path his nature best fits +him to follow; but the general charm of the prospect must be evident to +all. The freshness and novelty of secrecy, the artistic satisfaction in +doing the act of self-expression as well as it can possibly be done; +the experience of being not the hunter, but the hunted, not the +sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing and discussing crimes +with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return to town; these new +pleasures—these and their like—would furnish just that gentle +stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary to the tired +worker. And then the fact, that you would naturally have to select and +plan out your particular line of diversion without advice or +assistance, has its own advantage. For the moment a man takes to +dinning in your ears that you ought, you really ought, to go to Norway, +you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate that ever will be; and to +have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the Austrian Tyrol jammed +down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery that your own +individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking for manslaughter. + +Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After +all, it is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less +culpable than their neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none +need really blush for in the present. For such as they there still +remains the example of the turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden +possibilities. Denied the great delight of driving a locomotive, or a +fire-engine—whirled along in a glorious nimbus of smoke-pant, +spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar—what bliss to the palefaced +quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! +Though turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be +taken on many a pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet +moments to tend the lock-keeper’s flower-beds—perhaps make love to his +daughter; anon in busier times to let the old gates swing, work the +groaning winches, and hear the water lap and suck and gurgle as it +slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; to dangle legs over the +side and greet old acquaintances here and there among the +parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not +on the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron tetter +that scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant life of +the road; but many of its best conditions still linger round these old +toll gates, free from dust and clatter, on the silent liquid Highway to +the West. + +These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the +Gift, the path is plain. + + + + +Deus Terminus + + +The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when he +needs must worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his +parcelling of the known world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide +here, and to that, Sit you down there, he could scarce fail to evolve +the god Terminus: visible witness of possession and dominion, type of +solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans of this latter day—so +hailed by others, or complacently christened by ourselves—are Roman in +nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less tangible realms of +thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the statue which +shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked out, allotted, +and done with; that such and such ramblings and excursions are +practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, illegal, or +absurd. And in this way we are left with naught but a vague lingering +tradition of the happier days before the advent of the ruthless deity. + +The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each +autumn, regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; +banished by the matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly +where Lord A.’s shooting ends and Squire B.’s begins. Once, no such +petty limitations fettered the mind. A step into the woodland was a +step over the border—the margin of the material; and then, good-bye to +the modern world of the land-agent and the “Field” advertisement! A +chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the peregrine, with +eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her jesses catching in +the boughs. ’Twas the favourite of the Princess, the windows of whose +father’s castle already gleamed through the trees, where honours and +favours awaited the adventurous. The white doe sprang away through the +thicket, her snowy flank stained with blood; she made for the enchanted +cot, and for entrance you too had the pass-word. Did you fail on her +traces, nor fox nor mole was too busy to spare a moment for friendly +advice or information. Little hands were stretched to trip you, fairy +gibe and mockery pelted you from every rabbit-hole; and O what Dryads +you have kissed among the leaves, in that brief blissful moment ere +they hardened into tree! ’Tis pity, indeed, that this sort of thing +should have been made to share the suspicion attaching to the poacher; +that the stony stare of the boundary god should confront you at the end +of every green ride and rabbit-run; while the very rabbits themselves +are too disgusted with the altered circumstances to tarry a moment for +so much as to exchange the time of day. + +Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something +a round belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden era +of princesses is past. For your really virtuous ’prentices there still +remain a merchant’s daughter or two, and a bottle of port o’ Sundays on +the Clapham mahogany. For the rest of us, one or two decent clubs, and +plenty of nice roomy lunatic asylums. “Go spin, you jade, go spin!” is +the one greeting for Imagination. And yet—what a lip the slut has! What +an ankle! Go to: there’s nobody looking; let us lock the door, pull +down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. + +’Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so much +is given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and +allotments that shall win back Astræa. Our Labor Program stands for +evidence that the Board School, at least, has done enduring work; and +the useless race of poets is fast dying out. Though we no longer +conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed +when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of guineas galore) +awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more practical +research. “Le monde marche,” as Renan hath it, “vers une sorte +d’americanisme.... Peut-être la vulgarité générale sera-t-elle un jour +la condition du bonheur des élus. Nous n’avons pas le droit d’etre fort +difficiles.” We will be very facile, then, since needs must; +remembering the good old proverb that “scornful dogs eat dirty +puddings.” But, ere we show Terminus the door, at least let us fling +one stone at the shrieking sulphureous houses of damnation erected as +temples in his honour, and dignified with his name! There, ’mid +clangour, dirt, and pestilence of crowding humanity, the very spirit of +worry and unrest sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad +fellow. His deity of demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew +the kindly touch of sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid +flowers and under blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on +this particular altar the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any +stain of gore. Our hour of sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it +does—(_et haud procul absit!_)—let the offering be no bloodless one, +but let (for choice) a fat and succulent stationmaster smoke and +crackle on the altar of expiation! + + + + +Of Smoking + + +Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a certain +philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and pleasant to +indulge in, “when you’re not smoking”; wherein the whole criticism of +the cigarette is found, in a little room. Of the same manner of +thinking was one that I knew, who kept by him an ample case bulging +with cigarettes, to smoke while he was filling his pipe. Toys they be +verily, _nugæ,_ and shadows of the substance. Serviceable, +nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the substance is temporarily +unattainable; as between the acts of a play, in the park, or while +dressing for dinner: that such moments may not be entirely wasted. That +cigarette, however, which is so prompt to appear after dinner I would +reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as enemy to that diviner thing +before which it should pale its ineffectual fires in shame—to wit, good +drink, _“la dive bouteille”;_ except indeed when the liquor be bad, as +is sometimes known to happen. Then it may serve in some sort as a sorry +consolation. But to leave these airy substitutes, and come to smoking. + +It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, +or that first pipe of the evening which “Hesperus, who bringeth all +good things,” brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is +smoked on a clearer palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss +of one’s first love; but lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of +merit recompensed and the goal and the garland won, which clings to the +vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the majority give the palm to the +latter. To which I intend no slight when I find the incense that arises +at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, although with most +of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and swinkers, the +morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of alarums and +excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there are certain +halcyon periods sure to arrive—Sundays, holidays, and the like—the +whole joy and peace of which are summed up in that one beatific pipe +after breakfast, smoked in a careless majesty like that of the gods +“when they lie beside their nectar, and the clouds are lightly curled.” +Then only can we be said really to smoke. And so this particular pipe +of the day always carries with it festal reminiscences: memories of +holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; a suggestion of sunny lawns +and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense withal of something free and +stately, as of “faint march-music in the air,” or the old Roman cry of +“Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.” + +If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker’s ointment, it may be said to +lurk in the matter of “rings.” Only the exceptionally gifted smoker +can recline in his chair and emit at will the perfect smoke-ring, in +consummate eddying succession. He of the meaner sort must be content +if, at rare heaven-sent intervals—while thinking, perhaps, of nothing +less—there escape from his lips the unpremeditated flawless circle. +Then _“deus fio”_ he is moved to cry, at that breathless moment when +his creation hangs solid and complete, ere the particles break away and +blend with the baser atmosphere. Nay, some will deny to any of us +terrene smokers the gift of fullest achievement: for what saith _the_ +poet of the century? “On the earth the broken arcs: in the heaven the +perfect round!” + +It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins’s +novels (if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will take +pleasure in scents derived from animal emanations, clarified fats, and +the like; yet do illogically abhor the “clean, dry, vegetable smell” of +tobacco. Herein the true base of the feminine objection is reached; +being, as usual, inherent want of logic rather than any distaste, in +the absolute, for the thing in question. Thinking that they ought to +dislike, they do painfully cast about for reasons to justify their +dislike, when none really exist. As a specimen of their so-called +arguments, I remember how a certain fair one triumphantly pointed out +to me that my dog, though loving me well, could yet never be brought to +like the smell of tobacco. To whom I, who respected my dog (as Ben +saith of Master Shakespeare) on this side idolatry as much as anything, +was yet fain to point out—more in sorrow than in anger—that a dog, +being an animal who delights to pass his whole day, from early morn to +dewy eve, in shoving his nose into every carrion beastliness that he +can come across, could hardly be considered _arbiter elegantiarum_ in +the matter of smells. But indeed I did wrong to take such foolish +quibbling seriously; nor would I have done so, if she hadn’t dragged my +poor innocent dog into the discussion. + +Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity—an instance +of that excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into vice—and +couple it with dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify themselves by +argument. For if bed be by common consent the greatest bliss, the +divinest spot, on earth, _“ille terrarum qui præter omnes angulus +ridet”;_ and if tobacco be the true Herb of Grace, and a joy and +healing balm, and respite and nepenthe,—if all this be admitted, why +are two things, super-excellent separately, noxious in conjunction? And +is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in pleasure—self indulgent +perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of a new “blend,” reminding +one of a certain traveller’s account of an intoxicant patronised in the +South Sea Islands, which combines the blissful effect of getting drunk +and remaining sober to enjoy it? Yet I shall not insist too much on +this point, but would only ask—so long as the smoker be unwedded—for +some tolerance in the matter and a little logic in the discussion +thereof. + +Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within +common knowledge. 1_d.,_ 2_d.,_ nay even 4_d.,_ is not too great a +price, if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of expense. In +this sort of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory and ostentation +than solid satisfaction; and its votaries would seem to display less a +calm, healthy affection for tobacco than (as Sir T. Browne hath it) a +“passionate prodigality.” And, besides grievous wasting of the pocket, +atmospheric changes, varyings in the crops, and the like, cause +uncertainty to cling about each individual weed, so that man is always +more or less at the mercy of Nature and the elements—an unsatisfactory +and undignified position in these latter days of the Triumphant +Democracy. But worst and fatallest of all, to every cigar-smoker it is +certain to happen that once in his life, by some happy combination of +time, place, temperament, and Nature—by some starry influence, maybe, +or freak of the gods in mocking sport—once, and once only, he will +taste the aroma of the perfect leaf at just the perfect point—the ideal +cigar. Henceforth his life is saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a +dream, he goes thereafter, as one might say, in a sort of +love-sickness. Seeking he scarce knows what, his existence becomes a +dissatisfied yearning; the world is spoiled for him, its joys are +tasteless: so he wanders, vision-haunted, down dreary days to some +miserable end. + +Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be +done at comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman +motto, slightly altered—_Alieni appetens, sui avarus._ There be always +good fellows, with good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the boxes +of these lie open; an the good cigar belongs rather to him that can +appreciate it aright than to the capitalist who, owing to a false +social system, happens to be its temporary guardian and trustee. Again +there is a saying—bred first, I think, among the schoolmen at +Oxford—that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father’s income. +Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, after the +most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can resolutely +smoke his father’s cigars. In the path of duty complete success is not +always to be looked for; but an approving conscience, the sure reward +of honest endeavour, is within reach of all. + + + + +An Autumn Encounter + + +For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through level +fields, till it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already golden +three-parts up with ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my inevitable way; +and now that home is almost in sight it seems hard that the last part +of the long day’s sweltering and delightful tramp must needs be haunted +by that hateful speck, black on the effulgence of the slope. Did I not +know he was only a scarecrow, the thing might be in a way +companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing curiosity, +gilding this last weary stage with some magic of expectancy. But I +passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, he was already up +and doing, eager to introduce himself. He leered after me as I swung +down the road,—mimicked my gait, as it seemed, in a most uncalled-for +way; and when I looked back, he was blowing derisive kisses of farewell +with his empty sleeve. + +I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the +morning’s start and now; so it was annoying that he should force +himself on me, just when there was no getting rid of him. At this +distance, however, he might be anything. An indeterminate blot, it +seems to waver, to falter, to come and vanish again in the quivering, +heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on that familiar gate—are +the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable?—I used to watch Her +pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was ridiculous, it was +fatuous, under all the circumstances it was monstrous, and yet{...}! We +were both under twenty, so She was She, and I was I, and there were +only we three the wide world over, she and I and the unbetraying gate. +_Porta eburnea!_ False visions alone sped through you, though Cupid was +wont to light on your topmost bar, and preen his glowing plumes. And to +think that I should see her once more, coming down the path as if not a +day had passed, hesitating as of old, and then—but surely her ankles +seem—Confound that scarecrow!... + +His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, +which is as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a +new tack. Though here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an +evening breeze is playing briskly along the slope where he stands, and +one sleeve saws the air violently; the other is pointed stiffly +heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor friend! The sins of the +world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You have a mission, +you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. For man, +he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own particular +business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping it: +“Salvation, damnation, damnation, salvation!” And the jolly earth +smiles in the perfect evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs all +round you, and one young rook (only fledged this year, too!), after an +excellent simulation of prostrate, heart-broken penitence, soars +joyously away, to make love to his neighbour’s wife. “Salvation, +damnation, damn—” A shifty wriggle of the road, and he is transformed +once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, holding his lean +sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and gurgle of merriment. +Ho, ho! what a joke it was! How I took you all in! Even the rooks! What +a joke is everything, to be sure! + +Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless mummer. +Fortunately I shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old dog +waxes amorous. Mincing, mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he would +fain pose as the most irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced a +metropolitan kerb. “Love, you young dogs,” he seems to croak, “Love is +the one thing worth living for! Enjoy your present, rooks and all, as I +do!” Why, indeed, should he alone be insensible to the golden influence +of the hour? More than one supple waist (alas! for universal masculine +frailty!) has been circled by that tattered sleeve in days gone by; a +throbbing heart once beat where sodden straw now fails to give a manly +curve to the chest. Why should the coat survive, and not a particle of +the passion that inspired it long ago? + +At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins +recognition, completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a +significant glance under the slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm +points persistently and with intelligence up the road. My good fellow, +I know the way to the Dog and Duck as well as you do: I was going there +anyhow, without your officious interference—and the beer, as you justly +remark, is unimpeachable. But was this really all you’ve been trying to +say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! + + + + +The White Poppy + + +A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses +heavy tresses with gipsy _abandon;_ her sister of the sea-shore is +golden, a yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the spray. +Of another hue is the poppy of history, of romance, of the muse. White +as the stark death-shroud, pallid as the cheeks of that queen of a +silent land whose temples she languorously crowns, ghost-like beside +her fuller-blooded kin, she droops dream-laden, _Papaver somniferum,_ +the poppy of the magic juice of oblivion. In the royal plenitude of +summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes seem but a red cry from earth +in memory of the many dews of battle that have drenched these acres in +years gone by, for little end but that these same “bubbles of blood” +might glow to-day; the yellow flower does but hint of the gold that has +dashed a thousand wrecks at her feet around these shores: for happier +suggestion we must turn to her of the pallid petals, our white Lady of +Consolation. Fitting hue to typify the crowning blessing of +forgetfulness! Too often the sable robes of night dissemble +sleeplessness, remorse, regret, self-questioning. Let black, then, +rather stand for hideous memory: white for blessed blank oblivion, +happiest gift of the gods! For who, indeed, can say that the record of +his life is not crowded with failure and mistake, stained with its +petty cruelties of youth, its meannesses and follies of later years, +all which storm and clamour incessantly at the gates of memory, +refusing to be shut out? Leave us alone, O gods, to remember our +felicities, our successes: only aid us, ye who recall no gifts, aptly +and discreetly to forget. + +Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for +happiness. In the minor matter, for instance, of small money +obligations, that shortness of memory which the school of Professors +Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, may often betray into some +unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject which shall pain the +delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser clay, shall +lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and thereby +to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as Marcus +Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral character. This is to +be a stumbling-block and an offence against the brethren. It is better +to keep just memory enough to avoid such hidden rocks and shoals; in +which thing Mr Swiveller is our great exemplar, whose mental map of +London was a chart wherein every creditor was carefully “buoyed.” + +The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to +the prayer—and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to think +that we are the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our +friends, we can swear, have all, without exception, atrocious memories; +why is ours alone so hideously vital? Yet this isolation must be +imaginary; for even as we engage in this selfish moan for help in our +own petty case, we are moved to add a word for certain others who, +meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity’s already +heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in this +world by the reckless “recollections” of dramatic and other +celebrities? You gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, +above all other sorts and conditions of men, these our poor erring +brothers and sisters, the sometime _sommités_ of Mummerdom! + +Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: +when some subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even +some touch of a fresher air on your cheeks at night—a breath of _“le +vent qui vient à travers la montagne”_—have power to ravish, to catch +you back to the blissful days when you trod the one authentic Paradise. +Moments only, alas! Then the evil crowd rushes in again, howls in the +sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the happy garden; and once more +you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the white poppy. And you envy +your dog who, for full discharge of a present benefaction having wagged +you a hearty, expressive tail, will then pursue it gently round the +hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he reaches it at last, and oblivion +with it; every one of his half-dozen diurnal sleeps being in truth a +royal amnesty. + +But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita +blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but this +gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is “grace +and remembrance.” The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a nursling she +hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a “sorrow’s crown +of sorrow.” What flowers are these her pale hand offers? “There’s +pansies, that’s for thoughts!” For me rather, O dear Ophelia, the white +poppy of forgetfulness. + + + + +A Bohemian in Exile + +A Reminiscence + + +When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of +Bohemia gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were +found to chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the +fate of this or that once powerful chieftain who either donned the +swallow-tail and conformed or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet +retreat and died as he had lived, a Bohemian. But these were of the +princes of the land. To the people, the villeins, the common rank and +file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and pine, anæmic, in +thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the scornful and +learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only “the short and simple +annals of the poor.” + +It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom +as a United States—a collection of self-ruling guilds, municipalities, +or republics, bound together by a common method of viewing life. “There +_once_ was a king of Bohemia”—but that was a long time ago, and even +Corporal Trim was not certain in whose reign it was. These small free +States, then, broke up gradually, from various causes and with varying +speed; and I think ours was one of the last to go. + +With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost leaders. “Just for +a handful of silver he left us”; though it was not exactly that, but +rather that, having got the handful of silver, they wanted a wider +horizon to fling it about under than Bloomsbury afforded. + +So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, one by one— + + +But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their +success, and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. + +When old Pan was dead and Apollo’s bow broken, there were many faithful +pagans who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to the hills +and caves, truer to the old gods in their discrowned desolation than in +their pomp and power. Even so were we left behind, a remnant of the +faithful. We had never expected to become great in art or song; it was +the life itself that we loved; that was our end—not, as with them, the +means to an end. + +We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we; +Give us the glory of going on and still to be. + + +Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had +changed, and we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. + +Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past +was dead, and he wasn’t going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, too, +would be dead to Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man’s +death, said “he changed his life.” This is how Fothergill changed his +life and died to Bloomsbury. One morning he made his way to the +Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. The Whitechapel barrows +are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by a boy with half a +dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall pony, such as on +Sundays take the members of a club to Epping Forest. They are all +precisely the same in plan and construction, only in the larger sizes +the handles develop or evolve into shafts; and they are equally +suitable, according to size, for the vending of whelks, for a +hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for the conveyance of a cheery and +numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a medium sized +“developed” one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it painted white, +picked out with green—the barrow, not the donkey—and when his +arrangements were complete, stabled the whole for the night in +Bloomsbury. The following morning, before the early red had quite faded +from the sky, the exodus took place, those of us who were left being +assembled to drink a parting whisky-and-milk in sad and solemn silence. +Fothergill turned down Oxford Street, sitting on the shaft with a short +clay in his mouth, and disappeared from our sight, heading west at a +leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives by way of the Bayswater +Road. + +They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, +from the fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It +seems that eventually, his style of living being economical, he was +enabled to put down his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a +mare—no fashionable gipsy-cart, a sort of houseboat on wheels, but a +light and serviceable cart, with a moveable tilt, constructed on his +own designs. This allowed him to take along with him a few canvases and +other artists’ materials; soda-water, whisky, and such like +necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if he +wanted to. + +He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to +Streatley one afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long +ramble on the glorious North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before +dinner. Somewhere over on Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the +Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, I found him, smoking his +vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare cropping the short grass +beside him. He greeted me without surprise or effusion, as if we had +only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion to past times, +but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three years, and, +without ever telling his story right out, left a strange picturesque +impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated by fifty +years from modern conventional existence. The old road-life still +lingered on in places, it seemed, once one got well away from the +railway: there were two Englands existing together, the one fringing +the great iron highways wherever they might go—the England under the +eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, in whatever places +were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as of old: the +England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of by-lanes and +village-greens—the England of Parson Adams and Lavengro. The spell of +the free untrammelled life came over me as I listened, till I was fain +to accept of his hospitality and a horse-blanket for the night, +oblivious of civilised comforts down at the Bull. On the downs where +Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing up at the quiet stars that had +shone on many a Dane lying stark and still a thousand years ago; and in +the silence of the lone tract that enfolded us we seemed nearer to +those old times than to these I had left that afternoon, in the now +hushed and sleeping valley of the Thames. + +When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill’s aunt had +died and left him her house near town and the little all she had +possessed, I heard it with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For the +house had been his grandfather’s, and he had spent much of his boyhood +there; it had been a dream of his early days to possess it in some +happy future, and I knew he could never bear to sell or let it. On the +other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the desert? And will not the +caged eagle mope and pine? + +However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for the +time. The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the mare +turned out to grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all seeming, +with “a book of verses underneath the bough,” and a bottle of old +claret for the friend who might chance to drop in. But as the year wore +on small signs began to appear that he who had always “rather hear the +lark sing than the mouse squeak” was beginning to feel himself caged, +though his bars were gilded. + +I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three men-servants), +and he told me that of a Sunday morning when the household had gone to +church and everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill would go into the +coach-house and light his pipe, and sit on the step of the brougham (he +had a brougham now), and gaze at the old cart, and smoke and say +nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He didn’t like it, the +coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. + +One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was +wakened by a flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft +through the open window; the first magic suggestion of spring was +abroad, with its whispered hints of daffodils and budding hawthorns; +and one’s blood danced to imagined pipings of Pan from happy fields far +distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a certain +foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as possible. +It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master was +missing. In the very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the +earliest under-housemaid had begun to set man-traps on the stairs and +along the passages, he must have quietly left the house. The servants +were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and thought the master must only +have “gone for a nice long walk,” and so on, after the manner of their +kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. Sure enough, +the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the paddock. It was no +good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild haunter of tracks and +by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I kept my own counsel. +Fothergill never returned to Holly Lodge, and has been more secret and +evasive since his last flight, rarely venturing on old camping grounds +near home, like to a bird scared by the fowler’s gun. + +Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry +known as the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens +of which I was tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; +hearing in an old village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart +who neither carried samples nor pushed the brewing interest by other +means than average personal consumption—tales already beginning to be +distorted into material for the myth of the future. I found him +friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. As the evening wore +on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly Lodge; but his +air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had passed +out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even +tenor of his nomadic existence. + +After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he +might, with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; +certainly, I think, an artistic one. He had great powers, had any +impulse been present to urge him to execution and achievement. But he +was for none of these things. Contemplative, receptive, with a keen +sense of certain sub-tones and side aspects of life unseen by most, he +doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own way, and to gather from +the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor spend them in +toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. + +Some for the glories of this life, and some +Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come: +Ah, take the cash and let the credit go, +Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum. + + + + + +Justifiable Homicide + + +This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; so he +cannot be said to ask too much who seeks for exact information as to +how a young man ought, in justice to himself and to society, to deal +with his relations. During his minority he has lain entirely at their +mercy: has been their butt, their martyr, their drudge, their _corpus +vile._ Possessing all the sinews of war, this stiff-necked tribe has +consistently refused to “part”: even for the provision of those +luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its members have +crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral maxims, +and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively suspected at +the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, to be utterly +worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the tocsin has sounded +at last, and the Gaul is at the gate, they still appear to think that +the old condition of things is to go on; unconscious, apparently, of +atonement due, of retribution to be exacted, of wrongs to be avenged +and of insults to be wiped away! + +Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs +not, the artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for +relatives who neglect or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it +was who found himself compelled to reprove an uncle with an unfortunate +habit of squandering the family estate. An excellent relative, this +uncle, in all other respects. As a liar, he had few equals; he robbed +with taste and discretion; and his murders were all imbued with true +artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old age of spotless +respectability but for his one little failing. As it was, justice had +to be done, _ruat cælum:_ and so it came about that one day the nephew +issued forth to correct him with a matchlock. The innocent old man was +cultivating his paternal acres; so the nephew was able, unperceived, to +get a steady sight on him. His finger was on the trigger, when suddenly +there slipped into his mind the divine precept: “Allah is merciful!” He +lowered his piece, and remained for a little plunged in thought; +meanwhile the unconscious uncle hoed his paddy. Then with a happy smile +he took aim once more, for there also occurred to him the precept +equally divine: “But Allah is also just.” With an easy conscience he +let fly, and behold! there was an uncle the more in Paradise. + +It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that +constrained a recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for +leave of absence: in order to attend to family matters of importance. +The Colonel knew it was small use refusing the leave, as in that case +his recruit would promptly desert; so he could only ask, how long was +the transaction like to take? It was told him, after consideration, +that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a month would +meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he allowed +his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His +Colonel ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business +in question were satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: “I got him +from behind a rock.” + +There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such +methods at home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these +free and happy sons of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are +left us still: averse from change, mistrustful of progress, sticking +steadily to the good old-fashioned dagger and bowl. I had a friend who +disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles were his special line—(he +had suffered much from their tribe, having been early left an +orphan)—though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when he +was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or +two. But it was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning +of his career) a large number of these connections, and pursuit of +them, from the mere sordid point of view of _£ s. d.,_ proved +lucrative. But he always protested (and I believed him) that gain with +him was a secondary consideration. It would hardly be in the public +interest to disclose his _modus operandi._ I shall only remark that he +was one of the first to realise the security and immunity afforded the +artist by the conditions of modern London. Hence it happened that he +usually practised in town, but spent his vacations at the country +houses of such relations as were still spared him, where he was always +the life and soul of the place. Unfortunately he is no longer with us, +to assist in the revision of this article: nor was it permitted me to +soothe his last moments. The presiding Sheriff was one of those +new-fangled officials who insist on the exclusion of the public, and he +declined to admit me either in the capacity of a personal connection +or, though I tried my hardest, as the representative of “The National +Observer.” It only remains to be said of my much-tried and still +lamented friend, that he left few relatives to mourn his untimely end. + +But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march of +Time, and my poor friend’s Art (as himself in later years would +sorrowfully admit) is now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of +old, or “Robbia’s craft so apt and strange”; while our thin-blooded +youth, too nice for the joyous old methods, are content to find +sweetest revenge in severely dropping their relations. This is indeed a +most effective position: it exasperates, while it is unassailable. And +yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. Not mere forgiveness: +it is simple duty to forgive—even one’s guardians. No young man of +earnest aspirations will be content to stop there. Nay: lead them on, +these lost ones, by the hand; conduct them “generously and gently, and +with linking of the arm”; educate them, eradicate their false ideals, +dispel their foolish prejudices; be to their faults a little blind and +to their virtues very kind: in fine, realise that you have a +mission—that these wretches are not here for nothing. The task will +seem hard at first; but only those who have tried can know how much may +be done by assiduous and kindly effort towards the chastening—ay! the +final redemption even!—of the most hopeless and pig-headed of uncles. + + + + +The Fairy Wicket + + +From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times historical, +all dotted with date and number and sign, how exquisite the relief in +turning to the dear days outside history—yet not so very far off +neither for us nurslings of the northern sun—when kindly beasts would +loiter to give counsel by the wayside, and a fortunate encounter with +one of the Good People was a surer path to Fortune and the Bride than +the best-worn stool that ever proved step-ladder to aspiring youth. For +then the Fairy Wicket stood everywhere ajar—everywhere and to each and +all. “Open, open, green hill!”—you needed no more recondite sesame than +that: and, whoever you were, you might have a glimpse of the elfin +dancers in the hall that is litten within by neither sun nor moon; or +catch at the white horse’s bridle as the Fairy Prince rode through. It +has been closed now this many a year (the fairies, always strong in the +field, are excellent wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, ’tis but +for a moment’s mockery of the material generation that so deliberately +turned its back on the gap into Elf-Land—that first stage to the +Beyond. + +It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play +on a small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, +uncomfortable outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the +feathers whereinto he was wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the +arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove him to Nature for redress; and, +under an alien sky, he would go forth and wander along the iron road by +impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those hitherto a part of him +and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus loitering with +overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead—that, sure, is not +all unfamiliar? That row of elms—it cannot entirely be accident that +they range just _so?_ And, if not accident, then round the bend will +come the old duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a few +yards on will be the gate—it swings-to with its familiar click—the dogs +race down the avenue—and then—and then! It is all wildly fanciful; and +yet, though knowing not Tertullian, a _“credo quia impossibile”_ is on +his tongue as he quickens his pace—for what else can he do? A step, and +the spell is shattered—all is cruel and alien once more; while every +copse and hedge-row seems a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter. The +Fairies have had their joke: they have opened the wicket one of their +own hand’s-breadths, and shut it in their victim’s face. When next that +victim catches a fairy, he purposes to tie up the brat in sight of his +own green hill, and set him to draw up a practical scheme for Village +Councils. + +One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old +fashion, was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the +people: “I’d like to be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I’d like to be +a fairy, And wear short close!” And in later life it is to her sex that +the wee (but very wise) folk sometimes delegate their power of torment. +Such understudies are found to play the part exceeding well; and many a +time the infatuated youth believes he sees in the depth of one sole +pair of eyes—blue, brown, or green (the fairy colour)—the authentic +fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time must he hear the quaint old +formula, “I’m sure, if I’ve ever done anything to lead you to think,” +etc (runs it not so?), ere he shall realise that here is the gate upon +no magic pleasance but on a cheap suburban villa, banging behind the +wrathful rate-collector or hurled open to speed the pallid householder +to the Registrar’s Office. In still grosser habitations, too, they +lurk, do the People of Mischief, ready to frolic out on the +unsuspecting one: as in the case, which still haunts my memory, of a +certain bottle of an historic Château-Yquem, hued like Venetian glass, +odorous as a garden in June. Forth from out the faint perfume of this +haunted drink there danced a bevy from Old France, clad in the fashion +of Louis-Quinze, peach-coloured knots of ribbon bedizening apple-green +velvets, as they moved in stately wise among the roses of the old +garden, to the quaint music—Rameau, was it?—of a fairy _cornemuse,_ +while fairy Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat and painted them. Alas! +too shallow the bottle, too brief the brawls: not to be recalled by any +quantity of Green Chartreuse. + + + + +Aboard the Galley + + +He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told me this +tale), when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange fleet, whose +like he had not before seen. For each little craft was a corpse, +stiffly “marlined,” or bound about with tarred rope, as mariners do use +to treat plug tobacco: also ballasted, and with a fair mast and sail +stepped through his midriff. These self-sufficing ships knew no divided +authority: no pilot ever took the helm from the captain’s hands; no +mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained of the provisions. In +a certain island to windward (the native pilot explained) it was the +practice, when a man died, to bury him for the time being in dry, +desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his people, when the +waiting bodies were brought out and, caulked and rigged _secumdum +artem,_ were launched with the first fair breeze, the admiral at their +head, on their voyage to the Blessed Islands. And if a chief should +die, and the sand should hold no store of corpses for his escort, this +simple practical folk would solve the little difficulty by knocking +some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, that the notable might +voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant little company, running +before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, all bound for the Isles +of Light! ’Twas a sight to shame us sitters at home, who believe in +those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are content to trundle +City-wards or to Margate, so long as the sorry breath is in us; and, +breathless at last, to Bow or Kensal Green; without one effort, dead or +alive, to reach the far-shining Hesperides. + +“Dans la galère, capitane, nous étions quatre-vingt rameurs!” sang the +oarsmen in the ballad; and they, though indeed they toiled on the +galley-bench, were free and happy pirates, members of an honoured and +liberal profession. But all we—pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, whatever +our calling—are but galley-slaves of the basest sort, fettered to the +oar each for his little spell. A common misery links us all, like the +chain that runs the length of the thwarts. Can _nothing_ make it worth +our while not to quarrel with our fellows? The menace of the storms is +for each one and for all: the master’s whip has a fine impartiality. +Crack! the lash that scored my comrade’s back has flicked my withers +too; yet neither of us was shirking—it was that grinning ruffian in +front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the evasion shall be ours, while +he writhes howling. But why do we never once combine—seize on the ship, +fling our masters into the sea, and steer for some pleasant isle far +down under the Line, beyond the still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho for +feasting! Hey for tobacco and free-quarters! But no: the days pass, and +are reckoned up, and done with; and ever more pressing cares engage. +Those fellows on the leeward benches are having an easier time than we +poor dogs on the weather side? Then, let us abuse, pelt, vilify then: +let us steal their grub, and have at them generally for a set of +shirking, malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they may be to +windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know this well, +the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we like them none +the worse for it. + +Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile +phrases in the honour of these whipmasters of ours—as _“omnes eodem +cogimur,”_ and the rest; which is all very pretty and mighty consoling. +The fact is, the poets are the only people who score by the present +arrangement; which it is therefore their interest to maintain. While we +are doing all the work, these incorrigible skulkers lounge about and +make ribald remarks; they write Greek tragedies on Fate, on the +sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, and so on; and act in a +generally offensive way. And we are even weak enough to buy their +books; offer them drinks, peerages, and things; and say what +superlative fellows they are! But when the long-looked-for combination +comes, and we poor devils have risen and abolished fate, destiny, the +Olympian Council, early baldness, and the like, these poets will really +have to go. + +And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up +with our relations? True members of the “stupid party,” who never +believe in us, who know (and never forget) the follies of our +adolescence; who are always wanting us _not_ to do things; who are +lavish of advice, yet angered by the faintest suggestion of a small +advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish and these endure? No: as +soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to the sharks with +our relations! + +The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The +Sportsman of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over—first, his game, +and then the miserable being he button-holes for the tedious recital. +Shall we suffer _him_ longer? Who else? Who is that cowering under the +bulwarks yonder? The man who thinks he can imitate the Scottish accent! +Splash! And the next one? What a crowd is here! How they block the +hatchways, lumber the deck, and get between you and the purser’s +room—these fadmongers, teetotallers, missionaries of divers isms! +Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate Isles! Then for tobacco +in a hammock ’twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled in a brooklet +losing itself in silver sands! Then for—but O these bilboes on our +ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun blisters the bare +back: faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to flicker like Northern +Lights across the stark and pitiless sky. One earnest effort would do +it, my brothers! A little modesty, a short sinking of private +differences; and then we should all be free and equal gentlemen of +fortune, and I would be your Captain! “Who? you? you would make a +pretty Captain!” Better than you, you scurvy, skulking, little +galley-slave! “Galley-slave yourself, and be—- Pull together, boys, and +lie low! Here’s the Master coming with his whip!” + + + + +The Lost Centaur + + +It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the great +volume of ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured from +babyhood by the wise and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence an +ideal of human skill and wisdom blent with all that was best and +noblest of animal instinct, strength and swiftness, found poor humanity +sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth among his pottering +little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto fancied to be +the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the lords of earth +even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: below, shod +with the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the potentiality +of the armed heel. Instead of which—! How fallen was his first fair +hope of the world! And even when reconciled at last to the dynasty of +the forked radish, after he had seen its quality tested round the +clangorous walls of Troy—some touch of an imperial disdain ever +lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could contentedly hail +him—him, who had known Cheiron!—as hero and lord! + +Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling +lingers. + +Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, +reaching back “through spaces out of space and timeless time,” +somewhere joins us to the Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly +base. As we grow from our animal infancy, and the threads snap one by +one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul poising for flight into +Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every gain, we have some +forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we to “let the +ape and tiger die”; but the pleasant cousins dissembled in hide and fur +and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last vile folk, indeed, +exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly offend by always +carrying the Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their tails. +Others—happily of less didactic dispositions—there be; and it is to +these unaffected, careless companions that the sensible child is wont +to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, tame creatures +claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, while cheerfully +admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his inferiority at +every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected earthwards, he essays to +sniff it with the terrier who (as becomes the nobler animal) is leading +in the chase; and he is ready to weep as he realises his loss. And the +rest of the Free Company,—the pony, the cows, the great +cart-horses,—are ever shaming him by their unboastful exercise of some +enviable and unattainable attribute. Even the friendly pig, who (did +but parents permit) should eat of his bread and drink of his cup, and +be unto him as a brother,—which among all these unhappy bifurcations, +so cheery, so unambitious, so purely contented, so apt to be the guide, +philosopher, and friend of boyhood as he? What wonder that at times, +when the neophyte in life begins to realise that all these desirable +accomplishments have had to be surrendered one by one in the process of +developing a Mind, the course of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is +wont—not knowing the extent of the kingdom to which he is heir—to feel +a little discontented? + +Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is +already ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom +the submerged human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted moments. +He, the peevish and irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty +domesticities, is linked to us by little but his love of melody; but +for which saving grace, the hair would soon creep up from thigh to horn +of him. At times he will still do us a friendly turn: will lend a +helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own salvation; +will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon plain. But in the +main his sympathies are first for the beast: to which his horns are +never horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever natural and familiar, +and his voice (with its talk of help and healing) not harsh nor +dissonant, but voice of very brother as well as very god. + +And this declension—for declension it is, though we achieve all the +confidences of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant _argot_ +of the woods—may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us of our +primal cousins to draw us down. On the other hand, let soul inform and +irradiate body as it may, the threads are utterly shorn asunder never: +nor is man, the complete, the self-contained, permitted to cut himself +wholly adrift from these his poor relations. The mute and stunted human +embryo that gazes appealingly from out the depths of their eyes must +ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) closer. Nay, at times, it +must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As thus: “Was it really +necessary, after all, that we two should part company so early? May you +not have taken a wrong turning somewhere, in your long race after your +so-called progress, after the perfection of this be-lauded species of +yours? A turning whose due avoidance might perhaps have resulted in no +such lamentable cleavage as is here, but in some perfect embodiment of +the dual nature: as who should say a being with the nobilities of both +of us, the basenesses of neither? So might you, more fortunately +guided, have been led at last up the green sides of Pelion, to the +ancestral, the primeval, Centaur still waiting majestic on the summit!” +It is even so. Perhaps this thing might once have been, O cousin +outcast and estranged! But the opportunity was long since lost. +Henceforth, two ways for us for ever! + + + + +Orion + + +The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is steely-clear. High and +dominant amidst the Populations of the Sky, the restless and the +steadfast alike, hangs the great Plough, lit with a hard radiance as of +the polished and shining share. And yonder, low on the horizon, but +half resurgent as yet, crouches the magnificent hunter: watchful, +seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of menace in his port. + +Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has +passed since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing +forest and draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and +Sunday schools, with the chains that are forged of peace, the irking +fetters of plenty: driving also the whole lot of us, these to sweat at +its tail, those to plod with the patient team, but all to march in a +great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order and law: while the +happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his pleasing +nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children of +the Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in right +case to forget that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon withal. +Where, then, does he hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, here, my +brother, and here; deep in the breasts of each and all of us! And for +this drop of primal quicksilver in the blood what poppy or mandragora +shall purge it hence away? + +Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith +they brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against +accepted maxims and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of +course, this fitful stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a +natural craving for a seat on a high stool, for the inscription—now +horizontal, and now vertical—of figures, is sin. But the deskmen +command a temporary majority: for the short while they shall hold the +cards they have the right to call the game. And so—since we must bow to +the storm—let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other +Salvation—for a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a +matter of nomenclature. What we have now first to note is that this +original Waft from the Garden asserts itself most vigorously in the +Child. This it is that thrusts the small boy out under the naked +heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an islet in the +duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after the +gipsy’s van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to the +pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the tingling +blood of her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides along that +shining highway to the dim land east o’ the sun and west o’ the moon: +where freedom is, and you can wander and breathe, and at night tame +street lamps there are none—only the hunter’s fires, and the eyes of +lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years it is stifled and +gagged—buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and on its heart a +stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up and out when +’tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief summers gone, who +was missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a goodly portly man, +i’ faith: and had a villa and a steam launch at Surbiton: and was +versed in the esoteric humours of the House. Who could have thought +that the Hunter lay hid in him? Yet, after many weeks, they found him +in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, sun-burnt, the nocturnal haystack +calling aloud from his frayed and weather-stained duds, his trousers +tucked, he was tickling trout with godless native urchins; and when +they would have won him to himself with honied whispers of American +Rails, he answered but with babble of green fields. He is back in his +wonted corner now: quite cured, apparently, and tractable. And yet—let +the sun shine too wantonly in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, +quick with the warm South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to +the station; and will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, +truly: and next time he will not be caught. + +Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have +hushed the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have “come tripping +doon the stair,” rapt by the climbing passion from their +strawberry-leaved surroundings into starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, +too—the douce, respectable mediocrities that we are—which of us but +might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are mercifully unknown +to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What marvel that +up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one in his ken, +the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast and gone +forth on its irresistible appeal! + +Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes of +the horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate suburbs +creep ever farther into the retreating fields; and when you reach the +windy moorland, lo! it is all staked out into building-lots. Mud is +muddier now than heretofore; and ruts are ruttier. And what friendless +old beast comes limping down the dreary lane? He seems sorely shrunk +and shoulder-shotten; but by the something of divinity in his look, +still more than by the wings despondent along his mighty sides, ’tis +ever the old Pegasus—not yet the knacker’s own. “Hard times I’ve been +having,” he murmurs, as you rub his nose. “These fellows have really no +seat except for a park hack. As for this laurel, we were wont to await +it trembling: and in taking it we were afraid. Your English way of +hunting it down with yelpings and hallooings—well, I may be out of +date, but we wouldn’t have stood that sort of thing on Helicon.” So he +hobbles down the road. Good night, old fellow! Out of date? Well, it +may be so. And alas! the blame is ours. + +But for the Hunter—there he rises—couchant no more. Nay, flung full +stretch on the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his turn, +then, really come at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal ruin, +all levelling, whelming the County Councillor with the Music-hall +artiste, obliterating the very furrows of the Plough, shall the +skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more loose the +whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet—look up! Look up +and behold him confident, erect, majestic—there on the threshold of the +sky! + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Pagan Papers</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Kenneth Grahame</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 30, 2002 [eBook #5319]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 26, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: William McClain</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Pagan Papers</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Kenneth Grahame</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">The Romance of the Road</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">The Romance of the Rail</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Non Libri Sed Liberi</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Loafing</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">Cheap Knowledge</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">The Rural Pan</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Marginalia</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">The Eternal Whither</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">Deus Terminus</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">Of Smoking</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">An Autumn Encounter</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">The White Poppy</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">A Bohemian in Exile</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">Justifiable Homicide</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">The Fairy Wicket</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">Aboard the Galley</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">The Lost Centaur</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">Orion</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>The Romance of the Road</h2> + +<p> +Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and his company during the +progress of their famous voyage, few surpass that island whose roads did +literally “go” to places—<i>“ou les chemins cheminent, comme animaulx”</i>: and +would-be travellers, having inquired of the road as to its destination, and +received satisfactory reply, <i>“se guindans”</i> (as the old book hath +it—hoisting themselves up on) <i>“au chemin opportun, sans aultrement se poiner +ou fatiguer, se trouvoyent au lieu destiné.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of vitality in +roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join it at Streatley, the +point where it crosses the Thames; at once it strikes you out and away from the +habitable world in a splendid, purposeful manner, running along the highest +ridge of the Downs a broad green ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference +from the neighbouring grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor +homesteads tempt it aside or modify its course for a yard; should you lose the +track where it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in and obliterated by +criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight on, taking heed of no +alternative to right or left; and in a minute ’tis with you again—arisen out of +the earth as it were. Or, if still not quite assured, lift you your eyes, and +there it runs over the brow of the fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, +it disappears indeed—hiding Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble and +brick-work; but a little way on it takes up the running again with the same +quiet persistence. Out on that almost trackless expanse of billowy Downs such a +track is in some sort humanly companionable: it really seems to lead you by the +hand. +</p> + +<p> +The “Rudge” is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this pleasant +personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a characteristic of +the old country road, evolved out of the primitive prehistoric track, +developing according to the needs of the land it passes through and serves: +with a language, accordingly, and a meaning of its own. Its special services +are often told clearly enough; but much else too of the quiet story of the +country-side: something of the old tale whereof you learn so little from the +printed page. Each is instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are +martial and historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town—with its Roman or Saxon suffix to British +root—hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his <i>vates sacer,</i> passed +silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The little rise up yonder on the +Downs that breaks their straight green line against the sky showed another +sight when the sea of battle surged and beat on its trampled sides; and the +Roman, sore beset, may have gazed down this very road for relief, praying for +night or the succouring legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at +you from under her sun-bonnet—so may some girl-ancestress of hers have watched +with beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with the heathen and +break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And yonder, where the road +swings round under gloomy overgrowth of drooping boughs—is that gleam of water +or glitter of lurking spears? +</p> + +<p> +Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty hedges +overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and beast, living in +frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable lessons each of the other; +over the full-fed river, lipping the meadow-sweet, and thence on either side +through leagues of hay. Or through bending corn they chant the mystical +wonderful song of the reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most +of them, avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley by gentle +ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of keen fragrance in +the air, by some mystery of added softness under foot—ever a promise of +something to come, unguessed, delighting. Till suddenly you are among the +pines, their keen scent strikes you through and through, their needles carpet +the ground, and in their swaying tops moans the unappeasable wind—sad, +ceaseless, as the cry of a warped humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is +fulfilled, the hints and whisperings become fruition: the ground breaks steeply +away, and you look over a great inland sea of fields, homesteads, rolling +woodland, and—bounding all, blent with the horizon, a greyness, a gleam—the +English Channel. A road of promises, of hinted surprises, following each other +with the inevitable sequence in a melody. +</p> + +<p> +But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of <i>chemins qui +cheminent:</i> dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, veritably +<i>se guindans,</i> may reach his destination <i>“sans se poiner ou se +fatiguer”</i> (with large qualifications); but <i>sans</i> very much else +whereof he were none the worse. The gain seems so obvious that you forget to +miss all that lay between the springing stride of the early start and the +pleasant weariness of the end approached, when the limbs lag a little as the +lights of your destination begin to glimmer through the dusk. All that lay +between! “A Day’s Ride a Life’s Romance” was the excellent title of an +unsuccessful book; and indeed the journey should march with the day, beginning +and ending with its sun, to be the complete thing, the golden round, required +of it. This makes that mind and body fare together, hand in hand, sharing the +hope, the action, the fruition; finding equal sweetness in the languor of +aching limbs at eve and in the first god-like intoxication of motion with +braced muscle in the sun. For walk or ride take the mind over greater distances +than a throbbing whirl with stiffening joints and cramped limbs through a dozen +counties. Surely you seem to cover vaster spaces with Lavengro, footing it with +gipsies or driving his tinker’s cart across lonely commons, than with many a +globe-trotter or steam-yachtsman with diary or log? And even that dividing +line—strictly marked and rarely overstepped—between the man who bicycles and +the man who walks, is less due to a prudent regard for personal safety of the +one part than to an essential difference in minds. +</p> + +<p> +There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed be +experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a Turkish +bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only felt at its +fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open air. “A man ought to be +seen by the gods,” says Marcus Aurelius, “neither dissatisfied with anything, +nor complaining.” Though this does not sound at first hearing an excessive +demand to make of humanity, yet the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such +a sight in these unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, ’tis when after +many a mile in sun and wind—maybe rain—you reach at last, with the folding +star, your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, comfortable strangeness, +after unnumbered chops with country ale, the hard facts of life begin to swim +in a golden mist. You are isled from accustomed cares and worries—you are set +in a peculiar nook of rest. Then old failures seem partial successes, then old +loves come back in their fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of +regret, then old jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing of the +gods above, nothing of men below—not even their company. To-morrow you shall +begin life again: shall write your book, make your fortune, do anything; +meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings round, and you seem to hear it +circle to the music of the spheres. What pipe was ever thus beatifying in +effect? You are aching all over, and enjoying it; and the scent of the limes +drifts in through the window. This is undoubtedly the best and greatest country +in the world; and none but good fellows abide in it. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + Laud we the Gods,<br/> +And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils<br/> +From our blest altars.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>The Romance of the Rail</h2> + +<p> +In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that is +wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of the +steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no longer begins to +work at the point where vision ceases. In happier times, three hundred years +ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked out from the prows of their vessels +in the grey of the morning, and wot not rightly whether the land they saw might +be Jerusalem or Madagascar, or if it were not North and South America. “And +there be certaine flitting islands,” says one, “which have been oftentimes +seene, and when men approached near them they vanished.” “It may be that the +gulfs will wash us down,” said Ulysses (thinking of what Americans call the +“getting-off place”); “it may be we shall touch the Happy Isles.” And so on, +and so on; each with his special hope or “wild surmise.” There was always a +chance of touching the Happy Isles. And in that first fair world whose men and +manners we knew through story-books, before experience taught us far other, the +Prince mounts his horse one fine morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a +forest; and next morning, lo! a new country: and he rides by fields and granges +never visited before, through faces strange to him, to where an unknown King +steps down to welcome the mysterious stranger. And he marries the Princess, and +dwells content for many a year; till one day he thinks “I will look upon my +father’s face again, though the leagues be long to my own land.” And he rides +all day, and sleeps in a forest; and next morning he is made welcome at home, +where his name has become a dim memory. Which is all as it should be; for, +annihilate time and space as you may, a man’s stride remains the true standard +of distance; an eternal and unalterable scale. The severe horizon, too, repels +the thoughts as you gaze to the infinite considerations that lie about, within +touch and hail; and the night cometh, when no man can work. +</p> + +<p> +To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now and +again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where iron has +superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull as the measured +beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them is now a matter of +effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our ordinary course; they are +no longer unsought influences towards the making of character. So perhaps the +time of them has gone by, here in this second generation of steam. <i>Pereunt +et imputantur;</i> they pass away, and are scored against not us but our guilty +fathers. For ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The +romance of the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed—not fully nor +worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though Emerson for one +will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its right to immediate +recognition as poetic material. “For as it is dislocation and detachment from +the life of God that makes things ugly, the poet, who re-attaches things to +Nature and the whole—re-attaching even artificial things and violations of +Nature to Nature by a deeper insight—disposes very easily of the most +disagreeable facts”; so that he looks upon “the factory village and the +railway” and “sees them fall within the great Order not less than the bee-hive +or the spider’s geometrical web.” The poet, however, seems hard to convince +hereof. Emerson will have it that “Nature loves the gliding train of cars”; +“instead of which” the poet still goes about the country singing purling +brooks. Painters have been more flexible and liberal. Turner saw and did his +best to seize the spirit of the thing, its kinship with the elements, and to +blend furnace-glare and rush of iron with the storm-shower, the wind and the +thwart-flashing sun-rays, and to make the whole a single expression of +irresoluble force. And even in a certain work by another and a very different +painter—though I willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate romantic +intention—you shall find the element of romance in the vestiges of the old +order still lingering in the first transition period: the coach-shaped railway +carriages with luggage piled and corded on top, the red-coated guard, the +little engine tethered well ahead as if between traces. To those bred within +sight of the sea, steamers will always partake in somewhat of the “beauty and +mystery of the ships”; above all, if their happy childhood have lain among the +gleaming lochs and sinuous firths of the Western Highlands, where, twice a week +maybe, the strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a piece of the busy, +mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand alone in owning to a +sentimental weakness for the night-piercing whistle—judiciously remote, as some +men love the skirl of the pipes. In the days when streets were less wearily +familiar than now, or ever the golden cord was quite loosed that led back to +relinquished fields and wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer +nights, thinking of luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the +whistles from certain railway stations, veritable “horns of Elf-land, faintly +blowing.” Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a phantom train, +and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the journey bit by bit: through +the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the grey glimmer of dawn showed stone +walls in place of hedges, and masses looming up on either side; till the bright +sun shone upon brown leaping streams and purple heather, and the clear, sharp +northern air streamed in through the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; +Endymion-like, “my first touch of the earth went nigh to kill”: but it was only +to hurry northwards again on the wings of imagination, from dust and heat to +the dear mountain air. “We are only the children who might have been,” murmured +Lamb’s dream babes to him; and for the sake of those dream-journeys, the +journeys that might have been, I still hail with a certain affection the call +of the engine in the night: even as I love sometimes to turn the enchanted +pages of the railway a b c, and pass from one to the other name reminiscent or +suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian maybe, or savouring of Wessex, or +bearing me away to some sequestered reach of the quiet Thames. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>Non Libri Sed Liberi</h2> + +<p> +It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. That it +is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always fails to find him +thus engaged. He will talk about them—all night if you let him—wave his hand to +them, shake his fist at them, shed tears over them (in the small hours of the +morning); but he will not read them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys +his books without a remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers +start with the honest resolution that some day they will “shut down on” this +fatal practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter into their charmed +circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind them. Then will they read out of +nothing but first editions; every day shall be a debauch in large paper and +tall copies; and crushed morocco shall be familiar to their touch as buckram. +Meanwhile, though, books continue to flaunt their venal charms; it would be +cowardice to shun the fray. In fine, one buys and continues to buy; and the +promised Sabbath never comes. +</p> + +<p> +The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein resembling the +familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the first sight of the Object, +accompanied of a catching of the breath, a trembling in the limbs, loss of +appetite, ungovernable desire, and a habit of melancholy in secret places. But +once possessed, once toyed with amorously for an hour or two, the Object (as in +the inferior passion aforesaid) takes its destined place on the shelf—where it +stays. And this saith the scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail to remark +with a certain awe that the owner goeth thereafter as one possessing a happy +secret and radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is insufferably conceited, and +his conceit waxeth as his coat, now condemned to a fresh term of servitude, +groweth shabbier. And shabby though his coat may be, yet will he never stoop to +renew its pristine youth and gloss by the price of any book. No man—no human, +masculine, natural man—ever sells a book. Men have been known in moments of +thoughtlessness, or compelled by temporary necessity, to rob, to equivocate, to +do murder, to commit what they should not, to “wince and relent and refrain” +from what they should: these things, howbeit regrettable, are common to +humanity, and may happen to any of us. But amateur bookselling is foul and +unnatural; and it is noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, +contains no distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly known to +exist: the face of the public being set against it as a flint—and the trade +giving such wretched prices. +</p> + +<p> +In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the reflection +that this particular purchase will be a good investment, sordidly considered: +that you are not squandering income but sinking capital. But you know all the +time that you are lying. Once possessed, books develop a personality: they take +on a touch of warm human life that links them in a manner with our kith and +kin. <i>Non angli sed Angeli</i> was the comment of a missionary (old style) on +the small human duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many +a buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his possession, must +have felt that here was something vendible no more. So of these you may well +affirm <i>Non libri sed liberi;</i> children now, adopted into the circle, they +shall be trafficked in never again. +</p> + +<p> +There is one exception which has sadly to be made—one class of men, of whom I +would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are strangers to any such +scruples. These be Executors—a word to be strongly accented on the penultimate; +for, indeed, they are the common headsmen of collections, and most of all do +whet their bloody edge for harmless books. Hoary, famous old collections, +budding young collections, fair virgin collections of a single author—all go +down before the executor’s remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth not. +“The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy,” and it is chiefly by +the hand of the executor that she doth love to scatter it. May oblivion be his +portion for ever! +</p> + +<p> +Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most insidious, +because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is the bookbinder. Not +in that he bindeth books—for the fair binding is the final crown and flower of +painful achievement—but because he bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse +by and turn to months, and the months to years, and still the binder bindeth +not: and the heart grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds +her hair, each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and stream, +and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice whispereth: +“Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, full of bread, with all his +crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At gaming, swearing, or about some act +That hath no relish of salvation in it!” But when the deed is done, and the +floor strewn with fragments of binder—still the books remain unbound. You have +made all that horrid mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden +over again. As a general rule, the man in the habit of murdering bookbinders, +though he performs a distinct service to society, only wastes his own time and +takes no personal advantage. +</p> + +<p> +And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in leathern +surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet weathered the Cape and +sailed into halcyon seas. For these books—well, you kept them many weeks before +binding them, that the oleaginous printer’s-ink might fully dry before the +necessary hammering; you forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder +might refold the sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over—<i>consummatum +est</i>—still you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a quiet mind. For these +purple emperors are not to be read in bed, nor during meals, nor on the grass +with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief periods are all the whirling times +allow you for solid serious reading. Still, after all, you have them; you can +at least pulverise your friends with the sight; and what have they to show +against them? Probably some miserable score or so of half-bindings, such as +lead you scornfully to quote the hackneyed couplet concerning the poor Indian +whose untutored mind clothes him before but leaves him bare behind. Let us +thank the gods that such things are: that to some of us they give not poverty +nor riches but a few good books in whole bindings. Dowered with these and (if +it be vouchsafed) a cup of Burgundy that is sound even if it be not old, we can +leave to others the foaming grape of Eastern France that was vintaged in ’74, +and with it the whole range of shilling shockers,—the Barmecidal feast of the +purposeful novelist—yea, even the countless series that tell of Eminent Women +and Successful Men. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>Loafing</h2> + +<p> +When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when Autumn has been +carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good fellows who look upon +holidays as a chief end of life return from moor and stream and begin to take +stock of gains and losses. And the wisest, realising that the time of action is +over while that of reminiscence has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant +with greater pleasures than the other—that action, indeed, is only the means to +an end of reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the Loafer stands apart +supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher as to the end, goes straight +to it at once; and his happy summer has accordingly been spent in those +subjective pleasures of the mind whereof the others, the men of muscle and +peeled faces, are only just beginning to taste. +</p> + +<p> +And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the Loafer does +not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they are very necessary to +him. For <i>“Suave mari magno”</i> is the motto of your true Loafer; and it is +chiefly by keeping ever in view the struggles and the clamorous jostlings of +the unenlightened making holiday that he is able to realise the bliss of his +own condition and maintain his self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he +never very far away from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, but +hovers more or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star amidst +whirling constellations, he may watch the mad world “glance, and nod, and hurry +by.” +</p> + +<p> +There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of Scotland. +Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its tranquil “lucid +interval” between steamers, the ever recurrent throb of paddle-wheel, the rush +and foam of beaten water among the piles, splash of ropes and rumble of +gangways, and all the attendant hurry and scurry of the human morrice. Here, +<i>tanquam in speculo,</i> the Loafer as he lounges may, by attorney as it +were, touch gently every stop in the great organ of the emotions of mortality. +Rapture of meeting, departing woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, +indifference—he may experience them all, but attenuated and as if he saw them +in a dream; as if, indeed, he were Heine’s god in dream on a mountain-side. Let +the drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, emanations of his dream, will +vanish into the nothing whence they came. And these emotions may be renewed +each morning; if a fair one sail to-day, be sure that one as fair will land +to-morrow. The supply is inexhaustible. +</p> + +<p> +But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of Father +Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with its blisters, +perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the bliss of “quietism.” I +know one little village in the upper reaches where loafing may be pushed to +high perfection. Here the early hours of the morning are vexed by the voices of +boaters making their way down the little street to the river. The most of them +go staggering under hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their voices +are clamant of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they will punt, they +will paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the Loafer hears through the +open door of his cottage, where in his shirt-sleeves he is dallying with his +bacon, as a gentleman should. He is the only one who has had a comfortable +breakfast—and he knows it. Later he will issue forth and stroll down in their +track to the bridge. The last of these Argonauts is pulling lustily forth; the +river is dotted with evanishing blazers. Upon all these lunatics a pitiless +Phoebus shines triumphant. The Loafer sees the last of them off the stage, +turns his back on it, and seeks the shady side of the street. +</p> + +<p> +A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed away with +shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of somnolency is in +evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, let him respectfully +greet each several village dog. <i>Arcades ambo</i>—loafers likewise—they lie +there in the warm dust, each outside his own door, ready to return the smallest +courtesy. Their own lords and masters are not given to the exchange of +compliments nor to greetings in the market-place. The dog is generally the +better gentleman, and he is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, +who is not too proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the time of +day. He will mark his sense of this attention by rising from his dust-divan and +accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But he will stop short of his +neighbour’s dust-patch; for the morning is really too hot for a shindy. So, by +easy stages (the street is not a long one: six dogs will see it out), the +Loafer quits the village; and now the world is before him. Shall he sit on a +gate and smoke? or lie on the grass and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large +along the road? Such a choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last +course is the best—as needing the least mental effort of selection. Hardly, +however, has he fairly started his first daydream when the snappish “ting” of a +bellkin recalls him to realities. By comes the bicyclist: dusty, sweating, a +piteous thing to look upon. But the irritation of the strepitant metal has +jarred the Loafer’s always exquisite nerves: he is fain to climb a gate and +make his way towards solitude and the breezy downs. +</p> + +<p> +Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is alone with +the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of larks and a tinkling +from distant flocks break the brooding noonday stillness; above, the wind-hover +hangs motionless, a black dot on the blue. Prone on his back on the springy +turf, gazing up into the sky, his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the +spirit ranges at will among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. +Earth no longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still “spins like a fretful midge.” The Loafer knows not +nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through golden spaces of imagination +his soul is winging her untrammelled flight. And there he really might remain +for ever, but that his vagrom spirit is called back to earth by a gentle but +resistless, very human summons,—a gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, +thirst: a thirst to thank Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, half of +anticipation, he bends his solitary steps towards the nearest inn. Tobacco for +one is good; to commune with oneself and be still is truest wisdom; but beer is +a thing of deity—beer is divine. +</p> + +<p> +Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle out he +will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush and the +meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets of even. The +loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant moan of the weir; his +are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, of the sunset-haunted surface. +By-and-by the boaters will pass him homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: +his withers are unwrung. Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset +glories; no corporeal pangs clog his <i>æsthesis</i>—his perceptive faculty. +Some have quarrelled in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; he is at +peace with himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay them down in the +little village that night, his sleep will be the surest and the sweetest. For +not even the blacksmith himself will have better claim to have earned a night’s +repose. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>Cheap Knowledge</h2> + +<p> +When at times it happens to me that I ’gin to be aweary of the sun, and to find +the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core—just because, perhaps, I +can’t afford Melampus Brown’s last volume of poems in large paper, but must +perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny edition for the million—then I +bring myself to a right temper by recalling to memory a sight which now and +again in old days would touch the heart of me to a happier pulsation. In the +long, dark winter evenings, outside some shop window whose gaslight flared +brightest into the chilly street, I would see some lad—sometimes even a +girl—book in hand, heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and straining +eyes, careless of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil behind them and +about, their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: till the ruthless shopman +turned out the gas and brought them rudely back to the bitter reality of +cramped legs and numbed fingers. “My brother!” or “My sister!” I would cry +inwardly, feeling the link that bound us together. They possessed, for the +hour, the two gifts most precious to the student—light and solitude: the true +solitude of the roaring street. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries have +supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can enter and +call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon “in luxury’s sofa-lap of leather”; and +of course this boon is appreciated and profited by, and we shall see the divine +results in a year or two. And yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the +“Red Lamp,” “I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely wastes and +dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the feeling of +restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these other readers, “all +silent and all damned,” combine to set up a nervous irritation fatal to quiet +study. Had I to choose, I would prefer the windy street. And possibly others +have found that the removal of checks and obstacles makes the path which leads +to the divine mountain-tops less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So full +of human nature are we all—still—despite the Radical missionaries that labour +in the vineyard. Before the National Gallery was extended and rearranged, there +was a little “St Catherine” by Pinturicchio that possessed my undivided +affections. In those days she hung near the floor, so that those who would +worship must grovel; and little I grudged it. Whenever I found myself near +Trafalgar Square with five minutes to spare I used to turn in and sit on the +floor before the object of my love, till gently but firmly replaced on my legs +by the attendant. She hangs on the line now, in the grand new room; but I never +go to see her. Somehow she is not my “St Catherine” of old. Doubtless Free +Libraries affect many students in the same way: on the same principle as that +now generally accepted—that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our social +code which make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. +</p> + +<p> +But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, it +remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or two of Free +Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world most desiderates; and +whether the spare reading and consequent fertile thinking necessitated by the +old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive of sounder results. The cloyed and +congested mind resulting from the free run of these grocers’ shops to +omnivorous appetites (and all young readers are omnivorous) bids fair to +produce a race of literary resurrection-men: a result from which we may well +pray to be spared. Of all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits +the original work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary expression by +pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer’s boy of letters is sure to prove +a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be fulfilling the programme of its +advocates, is breeding such as he by scores. +</p> + +<p> +But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation may be +drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would appear that the +patrons of these libraries are confining their reading, with a charming +unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed they cannot do better; there is no +more blessed thing on earth than a good novel, not the least merit of which is +that it induces a state of passive, unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies +the reader to go out and put the world right. Next to fairy tales—the original +world-fiction—our modern novels may be ranked as our most precious possessions; +and so it has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully pay my five shillings, +or ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly be, in the pound towards the Free +Library: convinced at last that the money is not wasted in training exponents +of the subjectivity of this writer and the objectivity of that, nor in +developing fresh imitators of dead discredited styles, but is righteously +devoted to the support of wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>The Rural Pan</h2> + +<h3>(An April Essay)</h3> + +<p> +Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside the restless +Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little hoarse from bidding in +the market. Further west, down classic Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the +lord of the unerring (satin) bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in +these latter years float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts +than these the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that +reaches only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins to blow +a clearer note. +</p> + +<p> +When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities will abroad +too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this that flieth up the +reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the day? Mercury is out—some +dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed banks crumble and slide down under +the wash of his rampant screw; his wake is marked by a line of lobster-claws, +gold-necked bottles, and fragments of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may +even be seen to embrace the slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, +in the full gaze of the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime reposeth, +passively beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards’ Club at Maidenhead. Here, O +Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity subjectively inclined, he is neither +objective nor, it must be said for him, at all objectionable, like them of +Mercury. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural Pan. In the +hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may be paddled almost under +the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked for; there the god pipes with +freest abandonment. Or under the great shadow of Streatley Hill, “annihilating +all that’s made to a green thought in a green shade”; or better yet, pushing an +explorer’s prow up the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester’s stately roof +broods over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these Pan sits and dabbles, +and all the air is full of the music of his piping. Southwards, again, on the +pleasant Surrey downs there is shouting and jostling; dust that is drouthy and +language that is sultry. Thither comes the young Apollo, calmly confident as +ever; and he meeteth certain Mercuries of the baser sort, who do him obeisance, +call him captain and lord, and then proceed to skin him from head to foot as +thoroughly as the god himself flayed Marsyas in days of yore, at a certain +Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good instance of Time’s revenges. And yet Apollo +returns to town and swears he has had a grand day. He does so every year. Out +of hearing of all the clamour, the rural Pan may be found stretched on Ranmore +Common, loitering under Abinger pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the +sinuous Mole, abounding in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers the +dab-chick and water-rat. +</p> + +<p> +For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour with a +society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant combination of +Métropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will urge the horses of the Sun: +and, if he leaveth the society weekly to Mercury, yet he loveth well the +Magazine. From which <i>omphalos</i> or hub of the universe he will direct his +shining team even to the far Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron +road and level highway are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot +it along the sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with feather and +fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is unsocial. Albeit shy of +the company of his more showy brother-deities, he loveth the more unpretentious +humankind, especially them that are <i>adscripti glebæ,</i> addicted to the +kindly soil and to the working thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery +sinners. For he is only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is +strong. When the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, +among the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to appear at +times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten shepherd from +the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy he will then impart, in the musical +Wessex or Mercian he has learned to speak so naturally; though it may not be +till many a mile away that you begin to suspect that you have unwittingly +talked with him who chased the flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of +fight at Marathon. +</p> + +<p> +Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through—east and west, +north and south—bringing with it Commercialism, whose god is Jerry, and who +studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams with the girder. Bringing, +too, into every nook and corner fashion and chatter, the tailor-made gown and +the eyeglass. Happily a great part is still spared—how great these others +fortunately do not know—in which the rural Pan and his following may hide their +heads for yet a little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last +common, spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the well-wisher to +man—whither? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>Marginalia</h2> + +<p> +American Hunt, in his suggestive “Talks about Art,” demands that the child +shall be encouraged—or rather permitted, for the natural child needs little +encouragement—to draw when- and whereon-soever he can; for, says he, the +child’s scribbling on the margin of his school-books is really worth more to +him than all he gets out of them, and indeed, “to him the margin is the best +part of all books, and he finds in it the soothing influence of a clear sky in +a landscape.” Doubtless Sir Benjamin Backbite, though his was not an artist +soul, had some dim feeling of this mighty truth when he spoke of that new +quarto of his, in which “a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow +of margin”: boldly granting the margin to be of superior importance to the +print. This metaphor is pleasantly expanded in Burton’s “Bookhunter”: wherein +you read of certain folios with “their majestic stream of central print +overflowing into rivulets of marginal notes, <i>sedgy with citations.</i>” But +the good Doctor leaves the main stream for a backwater of error in inferring +that the chief use of margins is to be a parading-ground for notes and +citations. As if they had not absolute value in themselves, nor served a finer +end! In truth, Hunt’s child was vastly the wiser man. +</p> + +<p> +For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and illustrate +the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or “tail” edge, the saurian, +splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of old Nile; up one side negroes, +swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn them, let fall their nerveless spears; +up the other, monkeys, gibbering with terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees—a +plant to the untutored hand of easier outline than (say) your British oak. +Meanwhile, all over the unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the most +inadequate provocation, or Hannibal pursued his victorious career, while Roman +generals delivered ornate set speeches prior to receiving the usual +satisfactory licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal—all alike were pallid shades with +faint, thin voices powerless to pierce the distance. The margins of Cocytus +doubtless knew them: mine were dedicated to the more attractive flesh and blood +of animal life, the varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, in more practical +mood, I would stoop to render certain facts recorded in the text. To these +digressions I probably owe what little education I possess. For example, there +was one sentence in our Roman history: “By this single battle of Magnesia, +Antiochus the Great lost all his conquests in Asia Minor.” Serious historians +really should not thus forget themselves. ’Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, +to transform “battle” into “bottle”; for “conquests” one could substitute a +word for which not even Macaulay’s school-boy were at a loss; and the result, +depicted with rude vigour in his margin, fixed the name of at least one ancient +fight on the illustrator’s memory. But this plodding and material art had small +charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a “clear sky” ever through which I +could sail away at will to more gracious worlds. I was duly qualified by a +painfully acquired ignorance of dead languages cautiously to approach my own; +and ’twas no better. Along Milton’s margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the +Arimaspian—what a chance, that Arimaspian, for the imaginative pencil! And so +it has come about that, while Milton periods are mostly effaced from memory by +the sponge of Time, I can still see that vengeful Gryphon, cousin-german to the +gentle beast that danced the Lobster Quadrille by a certain shore. +</p> + +<p> +It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins is for +pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and crosses, nor +(in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled against the canticle +for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent pew: as used, alas! to happen +in days when one was young and godless, and went to church. Nor, again, are the +margins of certain poets entrusted to man for the composing thereon of +infinitely superior rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a +depraved habit, akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is +the absolute value of the margin itself—a value frequently superior to its +enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and takes care to +get it in “the little verses wot they puts inside the crackers.” The special +popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to epic verse is due to this habit of +feeling. A good example maybe found in the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is +the better poetry, the earlier remains the more popular—because of its +eloquence of margin. Mr Tupper might long ago have sat with laureate brow but +for his neglect of this first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic of +the century, is pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full meed of +glory it deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote “Beowulf,” our other +English epic, grasped the great fact from the first, so that his work is much +the more popular of the two. The moral is evident. An authority on practical +book-making has stated that “margin is a matter to be studied”; also that “to +place the print in the centre of the paper is wrong in principle, and to be +deprecated.” Now, if it be “wrong in principle,” let us push that principle to +its legitimate conclusion, and “deprecate” the placing of print on any part of +the paper at all. Without actually suggesting this course to any of our living +bards, when, I may ask—when shall that true poet arise who, disdaining the +trivialities of text, shall give the world a book of verse consisting entirely +of margin? How we shall shove and jostle for large paper copies! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>The Eternal Whither</h2> + +<p> +There was once an old cashier in some ancient City establishment, whose +practice was to spend his yearly holiday in relieving some turnpike-man at his +post, and performing all the duties appertaining thereunto. This was vulgarly +taken to be an instance of mere mill-horse enslavement to his groove—the +reception of payments; and it was spoken of both in mockery of all mill-horses +and for the due admonishment of others. And yet that clerk had discovered for +himself an unique method of seeing Life at its best, the flowing, hurrying, +travelling, marketing Life of the Highway; the life of bagman and cart, of +tinker, and pig-dealer, and all cheery creatures that drink and chaffer +together in the sun. He belonged, above all, to the scanty class of +clear-seeing persons who know both what they are good for and what they really +want. To know what you would like to do is one thing; to go out boldly and do +it is another—and a rarer; and the sterile fields about Hell-Gate are strewn +with the corpses of those who would an if they could. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one’s soul, it is +possible to push one’s disregard for convention too far: as is seen in the case +of another, though of an earlier generation, in the same establishment. In his +office there was the customary “attendance-book,” wherein the clerks were +expected to sign each day. Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from +appearing; he signs, indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little +later, writ in careful commercial hand, this entry: “Mr—- did not attend at his +office to-day, having been hanged at eight o’clock in the morning for +horse-stealing.” Through the faded ink of this record do you not seem to catch, +across the gulf of years, some waft of the jolly humanity which breathed in +this prince among clerks? A formal precisian, doubtless, during business hours; +but with just this honest love of horseflesh lurking deep down there in +him—unsuspected, sweetening the whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from +his desk, turning to pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still striveth +to bury his bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, you may be sure, +but from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the same, he erred; erred, if +not in taste, at least in judgment: for we cannot entirely acquit him of blame +for letting himself be caught. +</p> + +<p> +In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our melancholy selves +are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, whereof our happier +fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, remains to us; but every one is +not a collector; and, besides, ’tis a diversion you can follow with equal +success all the year round. Still, the instance may haply be pregnant with +suggestion to many who wearily ask each year, what new place or pursuit +exhausted earth still keeps for the holiday-maker. ’Tis a sad but sober fact, +that the most of men lead flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with +their family to some flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a +manner that is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not try +crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular branch—for every one must +himself seek out and find the path his nature best fits him to follow; but the +general charm of the prospect must be evident to all. The freshness and novelty +of secrecy, the artistic satisfaction in doing the act of self-expression as +well as it can possibly be done; the experience of being not the hunter, but +the hunted, not the sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing and +discussing crimes with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return to town; +these new pleasures—these and their like—would furnish just that gentle +stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary to the tired worker. And +then the fact, that you would naturally have to select and plan out your +particular line of diversion without advice or assistance, has its own +advantage. For the moment a man takes to dinning in your ears that you ought, +you really ought, to go to Norway, you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate +that ever will be; and to have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the +Austrian Tyrol jammed down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery +that your own individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking for +manslaughter. +</p> + +<p> +Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After all, it +is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less culpable than their +neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none need really blush for in the +present. For such as they there still remains the example of the +turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden possibilities. Denied the great +delight of driving a locomotive, or a fire-engine—whirled along in a glorious +nimbus of smoke-pant, spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar—what bliss to the +palefaced quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! Though +turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be taken on many a +pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet moments to tend the +lock-keeper’s flower-beds—perhaps make love to his daughter; anon in busier +times to let the old gates swing, work the groaning winches, and hear the water +lap and suck and gurgle as it slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; +to dangle legs over the side and greet old acquaintances here and there among +the parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not on +the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron tetter that +scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant life of the road; but +many of its best conditions still linger round these old toll gates, free from +dust and clatter, on the silent liquid Highway to the West. +</p> + +<p> +These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the Gift, the +path is plain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>Deus Terminus</h2> + +<p> +The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when he needs must +worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his parcelling of the known +world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide here, and to that, Sit you down +there, he could scarce fail to evolve the god Terminus: visible witness of +possession and dominion, type of solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans +of this latter day—so hailed by others, or complacently christened by +ourselves—are Roman in nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less +tangible realms of thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the +statue which shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked out, +allotted, and done with; that such and such ramblings and excursions are +practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, illegal, or absurd. And +in this way we are left with naught but a vague lingering tradition of the +happier days before the advent of the ruthless deity. +</p> + +<p> +The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each autumn, +regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; banished by the +matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly where Lord A.’s shooting +ends and Squire B.’s begins. Once, no such petty limitations fettered the mind. +A step into the woodland was a step over the border—the margin of the material; +and then, good-bye to the modern world of the land-agent and the “Field” +advertisement! A chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the peregrine, +with eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her jesses catching in the +boughs. ’Twas the favourite of the Princess, the windows of whose father’s +castle already gleamed through the trees, where honours and favours awaited the +adventurous. The white doe sprang away through the thicket, her snowy flank +stained with blood; she made for the enchanted cot, and for entrance you too +had the pass-word. Did you fail on her traces, nor fox nor mole was too busy to +spare a moment for friendly advice or information. Little hands were stretched +to trip you, fairy gibe and mockery pelted you from every rabbit-hole; and O +what Dryads you have kissed among the leaves, in that brief blissful moment ere +they hardened into tree! ’Tis pity, indeed, that this sort of thing should have +been made to share the suspicion attaching to the poacher; that the stony stare +of the boundary god should confront you at the end of every green ride and +rabbit-run; while the very rabbits themselves are too disgusted with the +altered circumstances to tarry a moment for so much as to exchange the time of +day. +</p> + +<p> +Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something a round +belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden era of princesses +is past. For your really virtuous ’prentices there still remain a merchant’s +daughter or two, and a bottle of port o’ Sundays on the Clapham mahogany. For +the rest of us, one or two decent clubs, and plenty of nice roomy lunatic +asylums. “Go spin, you jade, go spin!” is the one greeting for Imagination. And +yet—what a lip the slut has! What an ankle! Go to: there’s nobody looking; let +us lock the door, pull down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. +</p> + +<p> +’Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so much is +given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and allotments that +shall win back Astræa. Our Labor Program stands for evidence that the Board +School, at least, has done enduring work; and the useless race of poets is fast +dying out. Though we no longer conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what +name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of +guineas galore) awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more +practical research. “Le monde marche,” as Renan hath it, “vers une sorte +d’americanisme.... Peut-être la vulgarité générale sera-t-elle un jour la +condition du bonheur des élus. Nous n’avons pas le droit d’etre fort +difficiles.” We will be very facile, then, since needs must; remembering the +good old proverb that “scornful dogs eat dirty puddings.” But, ere we show +Terminus the door, at least let us fling one stone at the shrieking sulphureous +houses of damnation erected as temples in his honour, and dignified with his +name! There, ’mid clangour, dirt, and pestilence of crowding humanity, the very +spirit of worry and unrest sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad +fellow. His deity of demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew the +kindly touch of sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid flowers and +under blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on this particular altar +the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any stain of gore. Our hour of +sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it does—(<i>et haud procul +absit!</i>)—let the offering be no bloodless one, but let (for choice) a fat +and succulent stationmaster smoke and crackle on the altar of expiation! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>Of Smoking</h2> + +<p> +Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a certain +philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and pleasant to indulge +in, “when you’re not smoking”; wherein the whole criticism of the cigarette is +found, in a little room. Of the same manner of thinking was one that I knew, +who kept by him an ample case bulging with cigarettes, to smoke while he was +filling his pipe. Toys they be verily, <i>nugæ,</i> and shadows of the +substance. Serviceable, nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the +substance is temporarily unattainable; as between the acts of a play, in the +park, or while dressing for dinner: that such moments may not be entirely +wasted. That cigarette, however, which is so prompt to appear after dinner I +would reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as enemy to that diviner thing +before which it should pale its ineffectual fires in shame—to wit, good drink, +<i>“la dive bouteille”;</i> except indeed when the liquor be bad, as is +sometimes known to happen. Then it may serve in some sort as a sorry +consolation. But to leave these airy substitutes, and come to smoking. +</p> + +<p> +It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, or that +first pipe of the evening which “Hesperus, who bringeth all good things,” +brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is smoked on a clearer +palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss of one’s first love; but +lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of merit recompensed and the goal and +the garland won, which clings to the vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the +majority give the palm to the latter. To which I intend no slight when I find +the incense that arises at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, +although with most of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and +swinkers, the morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of alarums +and excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there are certain halcyon +periods sure to arrive—Sundays, holidays, and the like—the whole joy and peace +of which are summed up in that one beatific pipe after breakfast, smoked in a +careless majesty like that of the gods “when they lie beside their nectar, and +the clouds are lightly curled.” Then only can we be said really to smoke. And +so this particular pipe of the day always carries with it festal reminiscences: +memories of holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; a suggestion of sunny +lawns and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense withal of something free and +stately, as of “faint march-music in the air,” or the old Roman cry of +“Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement.” +</p> + +<p> +If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker’s ointment, it may be said to lurk in +the matter of “rings.” Only the exceptionally gifted smoker can recline in his +chair and emit at will the perfect smoke-ring, in consummate eddying +succession. He of the meaner sort must be content if, at rare heaven-sent +intervals—while thinking, perhaps, of nothing less—there escape from his lips +the unpremeditated flawless circle. Then <i>“deus fio”</i> he is moved to cry, +at that breathless moment when his creation hangs solid and complete, ere the +particles break away and blend with the baser atmosphere. Nay, some will deny +to any of us terrene smokers the gift of fullest achievement: for what saith +<i>the</i> poet of the century? “On the earth the broken arcs: in the heaven +the perfect round!” +</p> + +<p> +It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins’s novels +(if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will take pleasure in +scents derived from animal emanations, clarified fats, and the like; yet do +illogically abhor the “clean, dry, vegetable smell” of tobacco. Herein the true +base of the feminine objection is reached; being, as usual, inherent want of +logic rather than any distaste, in the absolute, for the thing in question. +Thinking that they ought to dislike, they do painfully cast about for reasons +to justify their dislike, when none really exist. As a specimen of their +so-called arguments, I remember how a certain fair one triumphantly pointed out +to me that my dog, though loving me well, could yet never be brought to like +the smell of tobacco. To whom I, who respected my dog (as Ben saith of Master +Shakespeare) on this side idolatry as much as anything, was yet fain to point +out—more in sorrow than in anger—that a dog, being an animal who delights to +pass his whole day, from early morn to dewy eve, in shoving his nose into every +carrion beastliness that he can come across, could hardly be considered +<i>arbiter elegantiarum</i> in the matter of smells. But indeed I did wrong to +take such foolish quibbling seriously; nor would I have done so, if she hadn’t +dragged my poor innocent dog into the discussion. +</p> + +<p> +Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity—an instance of that +excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into vice—and couple it with +dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify themselves by argument. For if bed be by +common consent the greatest bliss, the divinest spot, on earth, <i>“ille +terrarum qui præter omnes angulus ridet”;</i> and if tobacco be the true Herb +of Grace, and a joy and healing balm, and respite and nepenthe,—if all this be +admitted, why are two things, super-excellent separately, noxious in +conjunction? And is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in pleasure—self +indulgent perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of a new “blend,” reminding +one of a certain traveller’s account of an intoxicant patronised in the South +Sea Islands, which combines the blissful effect of getting drunk and remaining +sober to enjoy it? Yet I shall not insist too much on this point, but would +only ask—so long as the smoker be unwedded—for some tolerance in the matter and +a little logic in the discussion thereof. +</p> + +<p> +Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within common +knowledge. 1<i>d.,</i> 2<i>d.,</i> nay even 4<i>d.,</i> is not too great a +price, if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of expense. In this sort +of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory and ostentation than solid +satisfaction; and its votaries would seem to display less a calm, healthy +affection for tobacco than (as Sir T. Browne hath it) a “passionate +prodigality.” And, besides grievous wasting of the pocket, atmospheric changes, +varyings in the crops, and the like, cause uncertainty to cling about each +individual weed, so that man is always more or less at the mercy of Nature and +the elements—an unsatisfactory and undignified position in these latter days of +the Triumphant Democracy. But worst and fatallest of all, to every cigar-smoker +it is certain to happen that once in his life, by some happy combination of +time, place, temperament, and Nature—by some starry influence, maybe, or freak +of the gods in mocking sport—once, and once only, he will taste the aroma of +the perfect leaf at just the perfect point—the ideal cigar. Henceforth his life +is saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a dream, he goes thereafter, as one +might say, in a sort of love-sickness. Seeking he scarce knows what, his +existence becomes a dissatisfied yearning; the world is spoiled for him, its +joys are tasteless: so he wanders, vision-haunted, down dreary days to some +miserable end. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be done at +comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman motto, slightly +altered—<i>Alieni appetens, sui avarus.</i> There be always good fellows, with +good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the boxes of these lie open; an the +good cigar belongs rather to him that can appreciate it aright than to the +capitalist who, owing to a false social system, happens to be its temporary +guardian and trustee. Again there is a saying—bred first, I think, among the +schoolmen at Oxford—that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father’s +income. Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, after the +most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can resolutely smoke his +father’s cigars. In the path of duty complete success is not always to be +looked for; but an approving conscience, the sure reward of honest endeavour, +is within reach of all. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>An Autumn Encounter</h2> + +<p> +For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through level fields, till +it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already golden three-parts up with +ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my inevitable way; and now that home is almost +in sight it seems hard that the last part of the long day’s sweltering and +delightful tramp must needs be haunted by that hateful speck, black on the +effulgence of the slope. Did I not know he was only a scarecrow, the thing +might be in a way companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing +curiosity, gilding this last weary stage with some magic of expectancy. But I +passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, he was already up and doing, +eager to introduce himself. He leered after me as I swung down the +road,—mimicked my gait, as it seemed, in a most uncalled-for way; and when I +looked back, he was blowing derisive kisses of farewell with his empty sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the morning’s +start and now; so it was annoying that he should force himself on me, just when +there was no getting rid of him. At this distance, however, he might be +anything. An indeterminate blot, it seems to waver, to falter, to come and +vanish again in the quivering, heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on +that familiar gate—are the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable?—I +used to watch Her pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was +ridiculous, it was fatuous, under all the circumstances it was monstrous, and +yet{...}! We were both under twenty, so She was She, and I was I, and there +were only we three the wide world over, she and I and the unbetraying gate. +<i>Porta eburnea!</i> False visions alone sped through you, though Cupid was +wont to light on your topmost bar, and preen his glowing plumes. And to think +that I should see her once more, coming down the path as if not a day had +passed, hesitating as of old, and then—but surely her ankles seem—Confound that +scarecrow!... +</p> + +<p> +His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, which is +as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a new tack. Though +here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an evening breeze is playing +briskly along the slope where he stands, and one sleeve saws the air violently; +the other is pointed stiffly heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor +friend! The sins of the world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You +have a mission, you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. +For man, he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own particular +business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping it: “Salvation, +damnation, damnation, salvation!” And the jolly earth smiles in the perfect +evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs all round you, and one young rook +(only fledged this year, too!), after an excellent simulation of prostrate, +heart-broken penitence, soars joyously away, to make love to his neighbour’s +wife. “Salvation, damnation, damn—” A shifty wriggle of the road, and he is +transformed once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, holding his lean +sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and gurgle of merriment. Ho, ho! +what a joke it was! How I took you all in! Even the rooks! What a joke is +everything, to be sure! +</p> + +<p> +Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless mummer. Fortunately I +shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old dog waxes amorous. Mincing, +mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he would fain pose as the most +irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced a metropolitan kerb. “Love, you +young dogs,” he seems to croak, “Love is the one thing worth living for! Enjoy +your present, rooks and all, as I do!” Why, indeed, should he alone be +insensible to the golden influence of the hour? More than one supple waist +(alas! for universal masculine frailty!) has been circled by that tattered +sleeve in days gone by; a throbbing heart once beat where sodden straw now +fails to give a manly curve to the chest. Why should the coat survive, and not +a particle of the passion that inspired it long ago? +</p> + +<p> +At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins recognition, +completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a significant glance under the +slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm points persistently and with +intelligence up the road. My good fellow, I know the way to the Dog and Duck as +well as you do: I was going there anyhow, without your officious +interference—and the beer, as you justly remark, is unimpeachable. But was this +really all you’ve been trying to say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>The White Poppy</h2> + +<p> +A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses heavy +tresses with gipsy <i>abandon;</i> her sister of the sea-shore is golden, a +yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the spray. Of another hue is +the poppy of history, of romance, of the muse. White as the stark death-shroud, +pallid as the cheeks of that queen of a silent land whose temples she +languorously crowns, ghost-like beside her fuller-blooded kin, she droops +dream-laden, <i>Papaver somniferum,</i> the poppy of the magic juice of +oblivion. In the royal plenitude of summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes +seem but a red cry from earth in memory of the many dews of battle that have +drenched these acres in years gone by, for little end but that these same +“bubbles of blood” might glow to-day; the yellow flower does but hint of the +gold that has dashed a thousand wrecks at her feet around these shores: for +happier suggestion we must turn to her of the pallid petals, our white Lady of +Consolation. Fitting hue to typify the crowning blessing of forgetfulness! Too +often the sable robes of night dissemble sleeplessness, remorse, regret, +self-questioning. Let black, then, rather stand for hideous memory: white for +blessed blank oblivion, happiest gift of the gods! For who, indeed, can say +that the record of his life is not crowded with failure and mistake, stained +with its petty cruelties of youth, its meannesses and follies of later years, +all which storm and clamour incessantly at the gates of memory, refusing to be +shut out? Leave us alone, O gods, to remember our felicities, our successes: +only aid us, ye who recall no gifts, aptly and discreetly to forget. +</p> + +<p> +Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for happiness. +In the minor matter, for instance, of small money obligations, that shortness +of memory which the school of Professors Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, +may often betray into some unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject +which shall pain the delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser +clay, shall lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and +thereby to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as Marcus +Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral character. This is to be a +stumbling-block and an offence against the brethren. It is better to keep just +memory enough to avoid such hidden rocks and shoals; in which thing Mr +Swiveller is our great exemplar, whose mental map of London was a chart wherein +every creditor was carefully “buoyed.” +</p> + +<p> +The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to the +prayer—and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to think that we are +the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our friends, we can swear, +have all, without exception, atrocious memories; why is ours alone so hideously +vital? Yet this isolation must be imaginary; for even as we engage in this +selfish moan for help in our own petty case, we are moved to add a word for +certain others who, meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity’s +already heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in this +world by the reckless “recollections” of dramatic and other celebrities? You +gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, above all other sorts and +conditions of men, these our poor erring brothers and sisters, the sometime +<i>sommités</i> of Mummerdom! +</p> + +<p> +Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: when some +subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even some touch of a +fresher air on your cheeks at night—a breath of <i>“le vent qui vient à travers +la montagne”</i>—have power to ravish, to catch you back to the blissful days +when you trod the one authentic Paradise. Moments only, alas! Then the evil +crowd rushes in again, howls in the sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the +happy garden; and once more you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the white +poppy. And you envy your dog who, for full discharge of a present benefaction +having wagged you a hearty, expressive tail, will then pursue it gently round +the hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he reaches it at last, and oblivion with +it; every one of his half-dozen diurnal sleeps being in truth a royal amnesty. +</p> + +<p> +But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita blesses +every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but this gift is not to +be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is “grace and remembrance.” The +fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a nursling she hugs her grief, and for her +the memory of the past is a “sorrow’s crown of sorrow.” What flowers are these +her pale hand offers? “There’s pansies, that’s for thoughts!” For me rather, O +dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>A Bohemian in Exile</h2> + +<h3>A Reminiscence</h3> + +<p> +When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of Bohemia +gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were found to +chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the fate of this or +that once powerful chieftain who either donned the swallow-tail and conformed +or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet retreat and died as he had lived, a +Bohemian. But these were of the princes of the land. To the people, the +villeins, the common rank and file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and +pine, anæmic, in thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the +scornful and learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only “the short and simple annals of +the poor.” +</p> + +<p> +It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom as a +United States—a collection of self-ruling guilds, municipalities, or republics, +bound together by a common method of viewing life. “There <i>once</i> was a +king of Bohemia”—but that was a long time ago, and even Corporal Trim was not +certain in whose reign it was. These small free States, then, broke up +gradually, from various causes and with varying speed; and I think ours was one +of the last to go. +</p> + +<p> +With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost leaders. “Just for a +handful of silver he left us”; though it was not exactly that, but rather that, +having got the handful of silver, they wanted a wider horizon to fling it about +under than Bloomsbury afforded. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, one by one— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their success, +and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. +</p> + +<p> +When old Pan was dead and Apollo’s bow broken, there were many faithful pagans +who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to the hills and caves, truer +to the old gods in their discrowned desolation than in their pomp and power. +Even so were we left behind, a remnant of the faithful. We had never expected +to become great in art or song; it was the life itself that we loved; that was +our end—not, as with them, the means to an end. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we;<br/> +Give us the glory of going on and still to be.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had changed, and +we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. +</p> + +<p> +Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past was dead, +and he wasn’t going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, too, would be dead to +Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man’s death, said “he changed his +life.” This is how Fothergill changed his life and died to Bloomsbury. One +morning he made his way to the Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. +The Whitechapel barrows are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by a +boy with half a dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall pony, such +as on Sundays take the members of a club to Epping Forest. They are all +precisely the same in plan and construction, only in the larger sizes the +handles develop or evolve into shafts; and they are equally suitable, according +to size, for the vending of whelks, for a hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for +the conveyance of a cheery and numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a +medium sized “developed” one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it painted +white, picked out with green—the barrow, not the donkey—and when his +arrangements were complete, stabled the whole for the night in Bloomsbury. The +following morning, before the early red had quite faded from the sky, the +exodus took place, those of us who were left being assembled to drink a parting +whisky-and-milk in sad and solemn silence. Fothergill turned down Oxford +Street, sitting on the shaft with a short clay in his mouth, and disappeared +from our sight, heading west at a leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives +by way of the Bayswater Road. +</p> + +<p> +They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, from the +fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It seems that +eventually, his style of living being economical, he was enabled to put down +his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a mare—no fashionable gipsy-cart, +a sort of houseboat on wheels, but a light and serviceable cart, with a +moveable tilt, constructed on his own designs. This allowed him to take along +with him a few canvases and other artists’ materials; soda-water, whisky, and +such like necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if +he wanted to. +</p> + +<p> +He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to Streatley one +afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long ramble on the glorious +North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before dinner. Somewhere over on +Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, +I found him, smoking his vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare +cropping the short grass beside him. He greeted me without surprise or +effusion, as if we had only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion +to past times, but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three years, +and, without ever telling his story right out, left a strange picturesque +impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated by fifty years from +modern conventional existence. The old road-life still lingered on in places, +it seemed, once one got well away from the railway: there were two Englands +existing together, the one fringing the great iron highways wherever they might +go—the England under the eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, +in whatever places were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as of +old: the England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of by-lanes and +village-greens—the England of Parson Adams and Lavengro. The spell of the free +untrammelled life came over me as I listened, till I was fain to accept of his +hospitality and a horse-blanket for the night, oblivious of civilised comforts +down at the Bull. On the downs where Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing up +at the quiet stars that had shone on many a Dane lying stark and still a +thousand years ago; and in the silence of the lone tract that enfolded us we +seemed nearer to those old times than to these I had left that afternoon, in +the now hushed and sleeping valley of the Thames. +</p> + +<p> +When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill’s aunt had died and +left him her house near town and the little all she had possessed, I heard it +with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For the house had been his +grandfather’s, and he had spent much of his boyhood there; it had been a dream +of his early days to possess it in some happy future, and I knew he could never +bear to sell or let it. On the other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the +desert? And will not the caged eagle mope and pine? +</p> + +<p> +However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for the time. +The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the mare turned out to +grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all seeming, with “a book of +verses underneath the bough,” and a bottle of old claret for the friend who +might chance to drop in. But as the year wore on small signs began to appear +that he who had always “rather hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak” was +beginning to feel himself caged, though his bars were gilded. +</p> + +<p> +I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three men-servants), and he +told me that of a Sunday morning when the household had gone to church and +everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill would go into the coach-house and light his +pipe, and sit on the step of the brougham (he had a brougham now), and gaze at +the old cart, and smoke and say nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He +didn’t like it, the coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. +</p> + +<p> +One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was wakened by a +flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft through the open window; +the first magic suggestion of spring was abroad, with its whispered hints of +daffodils and budding hawthorns; and one’s blood danced to imagined pipings of +Pan from happy fields far distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a +certain foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as possible. +It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master was missing. In the +very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the earliest under-housemaid had +begun to set man-traps on the stairs and along the passages, he must have +quietly left the house. The servants were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and +thought the master must only have “gone for a nice long walk,” and so on, after +the manner of their kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. +Sure enough, the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the paddock. It +was no good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild haunter of tracks and +by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I kept my own counsel. Fothergill +never returned to Holly Lodge, and has been more secret and evasive since his +last flight, rarely venturing on old camping grounds near home, like to a bird +scared by the fowler’s gun. +</p> + +<p> +Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry known as +the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens of which I was +tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; hearing in an old +village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart who neither carried samples +nor pushed the brewing interest by other means than average personal +consumption—tales already beginning to be distorted into material for the myth +of the future. I found him friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. +As the evening wore on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly +Lodge; but his air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had +passed out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even tenor +of his nomadic existence. +</p> + +<p> +After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he might, +with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; certainly, I think, +an artistic one. He had great powers, had any impulse been present to urge him +to execution and achievement. But he was for none of these things. +Contemplative, receptive, with a keen sense of certain sub-tones and side +aspects of life unseen by most, he doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own +way, and to gather from the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor +spend them in toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Some for the glories of this life, and some<br/> +Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come:<br/> +Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,<br/> +Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum.<br/> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>Justifiable Homicide</h2> + +<p> +This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; so he cannot be +said to ask too much who seeks for exact information as to how a young man +ought, in justice to himself and to society, to deal with his relations. During +his minority he has lain entirely at their mercy: has been their butt, their +martyr, their drudge, their <i>corpus vile.</i> Possessing all the sinews of +war, this stiff-necked tribe has consistently refused to “part”: even for the +provision of those luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its +members have crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral +maxims, and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively suspected at +the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, to be utterly +worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the tocsin has sounded at last, +and the Gaul is at the gate, they still appear to think that the old condition +of things is to go on; unconscious, apparently, of atonement due, of +retribution to be exacted, of wrongs to be avenged and of insults to be wiped +away! +</p> + +<p> +Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs not, the +artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for relatives who neglect +or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it was who found himself +compelled to reprove an uncle with an unfortunate habit of squandering the +family estate. An excellent relative, this uncle, in all other respects. As a +liar, he had few equals; he robbed with taste and discretion; and his murders +were all imbued with true artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old +age of spotless respectability but for his one little failing. As it was, +justice had to be done, <i>ruat cælum:</i> and so it came about that one day +the nephew issued forth to correct him with a matchlock. The innocent old man +was cultivating his paternal acres; so the nephew was able, unperceived, to get +a steady sight on him. His finger was on the trigger, when suddenly there +slipped into his mind the divine precept: “Allah is merciful!” He lowered his +piece, and remained for a little plunged in thought; meanwhile the unconscious +uncle hoed his paddy. Then with a happy smile he took aim once more, for there +also occurred to him the precept equally divine: “But Allah is also just.” With +an easy conscience he let fly, and behold! there was an uncle the more in +Paradise. +</p> + +<p> +It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that constrained a +recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for leave of absence: in +order to attend to family matters of importance. The Colonel knew it was small +use refusing the leave, as in that case his recruit would promptly desert; so +he could only ask, how long was the transaction like to take? It was told him, +after consideration, that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a +month would meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he +allowed his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His Colonel +ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business in question were +satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: “I got him from behind a rock.” +</p> + +<p> +There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such methods at +home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these free and happy sons +of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are left us still: averse from +change, mistrustful of progress, sticking steadily to the good old-fashioned +dagger and bowl. I had a friend who disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles +were his special line—(he had suffered much from their tribe, having been early +left an orphan)—though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when he +was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or two. But it +was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning of his career) a +large number of these connections, and pursuit of them, from the mere sordid +point of view of <i>£ s. d.,</i> proved lucrative. But he always protested +(and I believed him) that gain with him was a secondary consideration. It would +hardly be in the public interest to disclose his <i>modus operandi.</i> I shall +only remark that he was one of the first to realise the security and immunity +afforded the artist by the conditions of modern London. Hence it happened that +he usually practised in town, but spent his vacations at the country houses of +such relations as were still spared him, where he was always the life and soul +of the place. Unfortunately he is no longer with us, to assist in the revision +of this article: nor was it permitted me to soothe his last moments. The +presiding Sheriff was one of those new-fangled officials who insist on the +exclusion of the public, and he declined to admit me either in the capacity of +a personal connection or, though I tried my hardest, as the representative of +“The National Observer.” It only remains to be said of my much-tried and still +lamented friend, that he left few relatives to mourn his untimely end. +</p> + +<p> +But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march of Time, +and my poor friend’s Art (as himself in later years would sorrowfully admit) is +now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of old, or “Robbia’s craft so apt +and strange”; while our thin-blooded youth, too nice for the joyous old +methods, are content to find sweetest revenge in severely dropping their +relations. This is indeed a most effective position: it exasperates, while it +is unassailable. And yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. Not mere +forgiveness: it is simple duty to forgive—even one’s guardians. No young man of +earnest aspirations will be content to stop there. Nay: lead them on, these +lost ones, by the hand; conduct them “generously and gently, and with linking +of the arm”; educate them, eradicate their false ideals, dispel their foolish +prejudices; be to their faults a little blind and to their virtues very kind: +in fine, realise that you have a mission—that these wretches are not here for +nothing. The task will seem hard at first; but only those who have tried can +know how much may be done by assiduous and kindly effort towards the +chastening—ay! the final redemption even!—of the most hopeless and pig-headed +of uncles. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>The Fairy Wicket</h2> + +<p> +From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times historical, all dotted +with date and number and sign, how exquisite the relief in turning to the dear +days outside history—yet not so very far off neither for us nurslings of the +northern sun—when kindly beasts would loiter to give counsel by the wayside, +and a fortunate encounter with one of the Good People was a surer path to +Fortune and the Bride than the best-worn stool that ever proved step-ladder to +aspiring youth. For then the Fairy Wicket stood everywhere ajar—everywhere and +to each and all. “Open, open, green hill!”—you needed no more recondite sesame +than that: and, whoever you were, you might have a glimpse of the elfin dancers +in the hall that is litten within by neither sun nor moon; or catch at the +white horse’s bridle as the Fairy Prince rode through. It has been closed now +this many a year (the fairies, always strong in the field, are excellent +wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, ’tis but for a moment’s mockery of the +material generation that so deliberately turned its back on the gap into +Elf-Land—that first stage to the Beyond. +</p> + +<p> +It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play on a +small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, uncomfortable +outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the feathers whereinto he was +wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove +him to Nature for redress; and, under an alien sky, he would go forth and +wander along the iron road by impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those +hitherto a part of him and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus +loitering with overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead—that, sure, is not all +unfamiliar? That row of elms—it cannot entirely be accident that they range +just <i>so?</i> And, if not accident, then round the bend will come the old +duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a few yards on will be the +gate—it swings-to with its familiar click—the dogs race down the avenue—and +then—and then! It is all wildly fanciful; and yet, though knowing not +Tertullian, a <i>“credo quia impossibile”</i> is on his tongue as he quickens +his pace—for what else can he do? A step, and the spell is shattered—all is +cruel and alien once more; while every copse and hedge-row seems a-tinkle with +faint elfish laughter. The Fairies have had their joke: they have opened the +wicket one of their own hand’s-breadths, and shut it in their victim’s face. +When next that victim catches a fairy, he purposes to tie up the brat in sight +of his own green hill, and set him to draw up a practical scheme for Village +Councils. +</p> + +<p> +One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old fashion, +was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the people: “I’d like to +be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I’d like to be a fairy, And wear short +close!” And in later life it is to her sex that the wee (but very wise) folk +sometimes delegate their power of torment. Such understudies are found to play +the part exceeding well; and many a time the infatuated youth believes he sees +in the depth of one sole pair of eyes—blue, brown, or green (the fairy +colour)—the authentic fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time must he hear the +quaint old formula, “I’m sure, if I’ve ever done anything to lead you to +think,” etc (runs it not so?), ere he shall realise that here is the gate upon +no magic pleasance but on a cheap suburban villa, banging behind the wrathful +rate-collector or hurled open to speed the pallid householder to the +Registrar’s Office. In still grosser habitations, too, they lurk, do the People +of Mischief, ready to frolic out on the unsuspecting one: as in the case, which +still haunts my memory, of a certain bottle of an historic Château-Yquem, hued +like Venetian glass, odorous as a garden in June. Forth from out the faint +perfume of this haunted drink there danced a bevy from Old France, clad in the +fashion of Louis-Quinze, peach-coloured knots of ribbon bedizening apple-green +velvets, as they moved in stately wise among the roses of the old garden, to +the quaint music—Rameau, was it?—of a fairy <i>cornemuse,</i> while fairy +Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat and painted them. Alas! too shallow the +bottle, too brief the brawls: not to be recalled by any quantity of Green +Chartreuse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>Aboard the Galley</h2> + +<p> +He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told me this tale), +when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange fleet, whose like he had not +before seen. For each little craft was a corpse, stiffly “marlined,” or bound +about with tarred rope, as mariners do use to treat plug tobacco: also +ballasted, and with a fair mast and sail stepped through his midriff. These +self-sufficing ships knew no divided authority: no pilot ever took the helm +from the captain’s hands; no mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained +of the provisions. In a certain island to windward (the native pilot explained) +it was the practice, when a man died, to bury him for the time being in dry, +desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his people, when the waiting +bodies were brought out and, caulked and rigged <i>secumdum artem,</i> were +launched with the first fair breeze, the admiral at their head, on their voyage +to the Blessed Islands. And if a chief should die, and the sand should hold no +store of corpses for his escort, this simple practical folk would solve the +little difficulty by knocking some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, +that the notable might voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant little +company, running before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, all bound for +the Isles of Light! ’Twas a sight to shame us sitters at home, who believe in +those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are content to trundle City-wards +or to Margate, so long as the sorry breath is in us; and, breathless at last, +to Bow or Kensal Green; without one effort, dead or alive, to reach the +far-shining Hesperides. +</p> + +<p> +“Dans la galère, capitane, nous étions quatre-vingt rameurs!” sang the oarsmen +in the ballad; and they, though indeed they toiled on the galley-bench, were +free and happy pirates, members of an honoured and liberal profession. But all +we—pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, whatever our calling—are but galley-slaves +of the basest sort, fettered to the oar each for his little spell. A common +misery links us all, like the chain that runs the length of the thwarts. Can +<i>nothing</i> make it worth our while not to quarrel with our fellows? The +menace of the storms is for each one and for all: the master’s whip has a fine +impartiality. Crack! the lash that scored my comrade’s back has flicked my +withers too; yet neither of us was shirking—it was that grinning ruffian in +front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the evasion shall be ours, while he +writhes howling. But why do we never once combine—seize on the ship, fling our +masters into the sea, and steer for some pleasant isle far down under the Line, +beyond the still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho for feasting! Hey for tobacco and +free-quarters! But no: the days pass, and are reckoned up, and done with; and +ever more pressing cares engage. Those fellows on the leeward benches are +having an easier time than we poor dogs on the weather side? Then, let us +abuse, pelt, vilify then: let us steal their grub, and have at them generally +for a set of shirking, malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they may +be to windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know this well, +the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we like them none the +worse for it. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile phrases in +the honour of these whipmasters of ours—as <i>“omnes eodem cogimur,”</i> and +the rest; which is all very pretty and mighty consoling. The fact is, the poets +are the only people who score by the present arrangement; which it is therefore +their interest to maintain. While we are doing all the work, these incorrigible +skulkers lounge about and make ribald remarks; they write Greek tragedies on +Fate, on the sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, and so on; and act in a +generally offensive way. And we are even weak enough to buy their books; offer +them drinks, peerages, and things; and say what superlative fellows they are! +But when the long-looked-for combination comes, and we poor devils have risen +and abolished fate, destiny, the Olympian Council, early baldness, and the +like, these poets will really have to go. +</p> + +<p> +And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up with our +relations? True members of the “stupid party,” who never believe in us, who +know (and never forget) the follies of our adolescence; who are always wanting +us <i>not</i> to do things; who are lavish of advice, yet angered by the +faintest suggestion of a small advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish +and these endure? No: as soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to +the sharks with our relations! +</p> + +<p> +The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The Sportsman +of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over—first, his game, and then the +miserable being he button-holes for the tedious recital. Shall we suffer +<i>him</i> longer? Who else? Who is that cowering under the bulwarks yonder? +The man who thinks he can imitate the Scottish accent! Splash! And the next +one? What a crowd is here! How they block the hatchways, lumber the deck, and +get between you and the purser’s room—these fadmongers, teetotallers, +missionaries of divers isms! Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate +Isles! Then for tobacco in a hammock ’twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled in +a brooklet losing itself in silver sands! Then for—but O these bilboes on our +ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun blisters the bare back: +faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to flicker like Northern Lights across +the stark and pitiless sky. One earnest effort would do it, my brothers! A +little modesty, a short sinking of private differences; and then we should all +be free and equal gentlemen of fortune, and I would be your Captain! “Who? you? +you would make a pretty Captain!” Better than you, you scurvy, skulking, little +galley-slave! “Galley-slave yourself, and be—- Pull together, boys, and lie +low! Here’s the Master coming with his whip!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>The Lost Centaur</h2> + +<p> +It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the great volume of +ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured from babyhood by the wise +and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence an ideal of human skill and wisdom +blent with all that was best and noblest of animal instinct, strength and +swiftness, found poor humanity sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth +among his pottering little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto +fancied to be the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the lords of +earth even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: below, shod with +the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the potentiality of the armed +heel. Instead of which—! How fallen was his first fair hope of the world! And +even when reconciled at last to the dynasty of the forked radish, after he had +seen its quality tested round the clangorous walls of Troy—some touch of an +imperial disdain ever lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could +contentedly hail him—him, who had known Cheiron!—as hero and lord! +</p> + +<p> +Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling lingers. +</p> + +<p> +Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, reaching +back “through spaces out of space and timeless time,” somewhere joins us to the +Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly base. As we grow from our animal +infancy, and the threads snap one by one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul +poising for flight into Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every +gain, we have some forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we +to “let the ape and tiger die”; but the pleasant cousins dissembled in hide and +fur and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last vile folk, indeed, +exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly offend by always carrying the +Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their tails. Others—happily of less didactic +dispositions—there be; and it is to these unaffected, careless companions that +the sensible child is wont to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, +tame creatures claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, while +cheerfully admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his inferiority at +every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected earthwards, he essays to sniff it +with the terrier who (as becomes the nobler animal) is leading in the chase; +and he is ready to weep as he realises his loss. And the rest of the Free +Company,—the pony, the cows, the great cart-horses,—are ever shaming him by +their unboastful exercise of some enviable and unattainable attribute. Even the +friendly pig, who (did but parents permit) should eat of his bread and drink of +his cup, and be unto him as a brother,—which among all these unhappy +bifurcations, so cheery, so unambitious, so purely contented, so apt to be the +guide, philosopher, and friend of boyhood as he? What wonder that at times, +when the neophyte in life begins to realise that all these desirable +accomplishments have had to be surrendered one by one in the process of +developing a Mind, the course of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is wont—not +knowing the extent of the kingdom to which he is heir—to feel a little +discontented? +</p> + +<p> +Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is already +ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom the submerged +human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted moments. He, the peevish and +irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty domesticities, is linked to us by +little but his love of melody; but for which saving grace, the hair would soon +creep up from thigh to horn of him. At times he will still do us a friendly +turn: will lend a helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own +salvation; will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon plain. But in +the main his sympathies are first for the beast: to which his horns are never +horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever natural and familiar, and his voice +(with its talk of help and healing) not harsh nor dissonant, but voice of very +brother as well as very god. +</p> + +<p> +And this declension—for declension it is, though we achieve all the confidences +of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant <i>argot</i> of the +woods—may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us of our primal cousins to +draw us down. On the other hand, let soul inform and irradiate body as it may, +the threads are utterly shorn asunder never: nor is man, the complete, the +self-contained, permitted to cut himself wholly adrift from these his poor +relations. The mute and stunted human embryo that gazes appealingly from out +the depths of their eyes must ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) +closer. Nay, at times, it must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As thus: +“Was it really necessary, after all, that we two should part company so early? +May you not have taken a wrong turning somewhere, in your long race after your +so-called progress, after the perfection of this be-lauded species of yours? A +turning whose due avoidance might perhaps have resulted in no such lamentable +cleavage as is here, but in some perfect embodiment of the dual nature: as who +should say a being with the nobilities of both of us, the basenesses of +neither? So might you, more fortunately guided, have been led at last up the +green sides of Pelion, to the ancestral, the primeval, Centaur still waiting +majestic on the summit!” It is even so. Perhaps this thing might once have +been, O cousin outcast and estranged! But the opportunity was long since lost. +Henceforth, two ways for us for ever! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>Orion</h2> + +<p> +The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is steely-clear. High and dominant +amidst the Populations of the Sky, the restless and the steadfast alike, hangs +the great Plough, lit with a hard radiance as of the polished and shining +share. And yonder, low on the horizon, but half resurgent as yet, crouches the +magnificent hunter: watchful, seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of +menace in his port. +</p> + +<p> +Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has passed +since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing forest and +draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and Sunday schools, with +the chains that are forged of peace, the irking fetters of plenty: driving also +the whole lot of us, these to sweat at its tail, those to plod with the patient +team, but all to march in a great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order +and law: while the happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his +pleasing nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children of the +Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in right case to forget +that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon withal. Where, then, does he +hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, here, my brother, and here; deep in the +breasts of each and all of us! And for this drop of primal quicksilver in the +blood what poppy or mandragora shall purge it hence away? +</p> + +<p> +Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith they +brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against accepted maxims +and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of course, this fitful +stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a natural craving for a seat on a +high stool, for the inscription—now horizontal, and now vertical—of figures, is +sin. But the deskmen command a temporary majority: for the short while they +shall hold the cards they have the right to call the game. And so—since we must +bow to the storm—let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other Salvation—for +a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a matter of nomenclature. +What we have now first to note is that this original Waft from the Garden +asserts itself most vigorously in the Child. This it is that thrusts the small +boy out under the naked heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an +islet in the duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after +the gipsy’s van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to the +pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the tingling blood of +her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides along that shining highway +to the dim land east o’ the sun and west o’ the moon: where freedom is, and you +can wander and breathe, and at night tame street lamps there are none—only the +hunter’s fires, and the eyes of lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years +it is stifled and gagged—buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and on +its heart a stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up and out when +’tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief summers gone, who was +missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a goodly portly man, i’ faith: +and had a villa and a steam launch at Surbiton: and was versed in the esoteric +humours of the House. Who could have thought that the Hunter lay hid in him? +Yet, after many weeks, they found him in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, +sun-burnt, the nocturnal haystack calling aloud from his frayed and +weather-stained duds, his trousers tucked, he was tickling trout with godless +native urchins; and when they would have won him to himself with honied +whispers of American Rails, he answered but with babble of green fields. He is +back in his wonted corner now: quite cured, apparently, and tractable. And +yet—let the sun shine too wantonly in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, +quick with the warm South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to the +station; and will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, truly: and next +time he will not be caught. +</p> + +<p> +Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have hushed +the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have “come tripping doon the stair,” +rapt by the climbing passion from their strawberry-leaved surroundings into +starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, too—the douce, respectable mediocrities that we +are—which of us but might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are +mercifully unknown to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What +marvel that up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one in his +ken, the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast and gone forth +on its irresistible appeal! +</p> + +<p> +Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes of the +horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate suburbs creep ever +farther into the retreating fields; and when you reach the windy moorland, lo! +it is all staked out into building-lots. Mud is muddier now than heretofore; +and ruts are ruttier. And what friendless old beast comes limping down the +dreary lane? He seems sorely shrunk and shoulder-shotten; but by the something +of divinity in his look, still more than by the wings despondent along his +mighty sides, ’tis ever the old Pegasus—not yet the knacker’s own. “Hard times +I’ve been having,” he murmurs, as you rub his nose. “These fellows have really +no seat except for a park hack. As for this laurel, we were wont to await it +trembling: and in taking it we were afraid. Your English way of hunting it down +with yelpings and hallooings—well, I may be out of date, but we wouldn’t have +stood that sort of thing on Helicon.” So he hobbles down the road. Good night, +old fellow! Out of date? Well, it may be so. And alas! the blame is ours. +</p> + +<p> +But for the Hunter—there he rises—couchant no more. Nay, flung full stretch on +the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his turn, then, really come +at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal ruin, all levelling, whelming the +County Councillor with the Music-hall artiste, obliterating the very furrows of +the Plough, shall the skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more +loose the whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet—look up! Look up +and behold him confident, erect, majestic—there on the threshold of the sky! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8a3351 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5319 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5319) diff --git a/old/5319-8.txt b/old/5319-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..12e04c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5319-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2290 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Papers, by Kenneth Grahame + +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: Pagan Papers + +Author: Kenneth Grahame + +Posting Date: March 20, 2014 [EBook #5319] +Release Date: March, 2004 +First Posted: June 30, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + + + + +Produced by William McClain + + + + + + + + + +Pagan Papers was first published in 1893 and the text is in the public +domain. This is a reprint of the first American edition of 1898. The +transcription was done by William McClain <info@sattre-press.com>, +2002. + +A printed version of this book is available from Sattre Press, +http://pagan_papers.sattre-press.com/. It includes a glossary of +French and Latin phrases. + + + + +PAGAN PAPERS + +by Kenneth Grahame + + + +The Romance of the Road + +Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and his company +during the progress of their famous voyage, few surpass that island +whose roads did literally "go" to places -- "ou les chemins +cheminent, comme animaulx": and would-be travellers, having inquired +of the road as to its destination, and received satisfactory reply, +"se guindans" (as the old book hath it -- hoisting themselves up on) +"au chemin opportun, sans aultrement se poiner ou fatiguer, se +trouvoyent au lieu destin." + +The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of +vitality in roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join +it at Streatley, the point where it crosses the Thames; at once it +strikes you out and away from the habitable world in a splendid, +purposeful manner, running along the highest ridge of the Downs a +broad green ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference from the +neighbouring grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor +homesteads tempt it aside or modify its course for a yard; should you +lose the track where it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in +and obliterated by criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight +on, taking heed of no alternative to right or left; and in a minute +'tis with you again -- arisen out of the earth as it were. Or, if +still not quite assured, lift you your eyes, and there it runs over +the brow of the fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, it +disappears indeed -- hiding Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble +and brick-work; but a little way on it takes up the running again with +the same quiet persistence. Out on that almost trackless expanse of +billowy Downs such a track is in some sort humanly companionable: it +really seems to lead you by the hand. + +The "Rudge" is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this +pleasant personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a +characteristic of the old country road, evolved out of the primitive +prehistoric track, developing according to the needs of the land it +passes through and serves: with a language, accordingly, and a meaning +of its own. Its special services are often told clearly enough; but +much else too of the quiet story of the country-side: something of the +old tale whereof you learn so little from the printed page. Each is +instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are martial and +historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town -- with its Roman or Saxon suffix +to British root -- hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his vates +sacer, passed silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The little +rise up yonder on the Downs that breaks their straight green line +against the sky showed another sight when the sea of battle surged and +beat on its trampled sides; and the Roman, sore beset, may have gazed +down this very road for relief, praying for night or the succouring +legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at you from under +her sun-bonnet -- so may some girl-ancestress of hers have watched +with beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with the +heathen and break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And +yonder, where the road swings round under gloomy overgrowth of +drooping boughs -- is that gleam of water or glitter of lurking +spears? + +Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty +hedges overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and +beast, living in frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable +lessons each of the other; over the full-fed river, lipping the +meadow-sweet, and thence on either side through leagues of hay. Or +through bending corn they chant the mystical wonderful song of the +reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most of them, +avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley +by gentle ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of +keen fragrance in the air, by some mystery of added softness under +foot -- ever a promise of something to come, unguessed, delighting. +Till suddenly you are among the pines, their keen scent strikes you +through and through, their needles carpet the ground, and in their +swaying tops moans the unappeasable wind -- sad, ceaseless, as the cry +of a warped humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is fulfilled, +the hints and whisperings become fruition: the ground breaks steeply +away, and you look over a great inland sea of fields, homesteads, +rolling woodland, and -- bounding all, blent with the horizon, a +greyness, a gleam -- the English Channel. A road of promises, of +hinted surprises, following each other with the inevitable sequence in +a melody. + +But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of chemins qui +cheminent: dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, +veritably se guindans, may reach his destination "sans se poiner ou +se fatiguer" (with large qualifications); but sans very much else +whereof he were none the worse. The gain seems so obvious that you +forget to miss all that lay between the springing stride of the early +start and the pleasant weariness of the end approached, when the limbs +lag a little as the lights of your destination begin to glimmer +through the dusk. All that lay between! "A Day's Ride a Life's +Romance" was the excellent title of an unsuccessful book; and indeed +the journey should march with the day, beginning and ending with its +sun, to be the complete thing, the golden round, required of it. This +makes that mind and body fare together, hand in hand, sharing the +hope, the action, the fruition; finding equal sweetness in the languor +of aching limbs at eve and in the first god-like intoxication of +motion with braced muscle in the sun. For walk or ride take the mind +over greater distances than a throbbing whirl with stiffening joints +and cramped limbs through a dozen counties. Surely you seem to cover +vaster spaces with Lavengro, footing it with gipsies or driving his +tinker's cart across lonely commons, than with many a globe-trotter or +steam-yachtsman with diary or log? And even that dividing line -- +strictly marked and rarely overstepped -- between the man who bicycles +and the man who walks, is less due to a prudent regard for personal +safety of the one part than to an essential difference in minds. + +There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed +be experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a +Turkish bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only +felt at its fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open +air. "A man ought to be seen by the gods," says Marcus Aurelius, +"neither dissatisfied with anything, nor complaining." Though this +does not sound at first hearing an excessive demand to make of +humanity, yet the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such a sight +in these unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, 'tis when after +many a mile in sun and wind -- maybe rain -- you reach at last, with +the folding star, your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, +comfortable strangeness, after unnumbered chops with country ale, the +hard facts of life begin to swim in a golden mist. You are isled from +accustomed cares and worries -- you are set in a peculiar nook of +rest. Then old failures seem partial successes, then old loves come +back in their fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of +regret, then old jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing +of the gods above, nothing of men below -- not even their company. +To-morrow you shall begin life again: shall write your book, make your +fortune, do anything; meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings +round, and you seem to hear it circle to the music of the spheres. +What pipe was ever thus beatifying in effect? You are aching all over, +and enjoying it; and the scent of the limes drifts in through the +window. This is undoubtedly the best and greatest country in the +world; and none but good fellows abide in it. + + Laud we the Gods, + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our blest altars. + +The Romance of the Rail + +In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that +is wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of +the steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no +longer begins to work at the point where vision ceases. In happier +times, three hundred years ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked +out from the prows of their vessels in the grey of the morning, and +wot not rightly whether the land they saw might be Jerusalem or +Madagascar, or if it were not North and South America. "And there be +certaine flitting islands," says one, "which have been oftentimes +seene, and when men approached near them they vanished." "It may be +that the gulfs will wash us down," said Ulysses (thinking of what +Americans call the "getting-off place"); "it may be we shall touch +the Happy Isles." And so on, and so on; each with his special hope or +"wild surmise." There was always a chance of touching the Happy +Isles. And in that first fair world whose men and manners we knew +through story-books, before experience taught us far other, the Prince +mounts his horse one fine morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a +forest; and next morning, lo! a new country: and he rides by fields +and granges never visited before, through faces strange to him, to +where an unknown King steps down to welcome the mysterious stranger. +And he marries the Princess, and dwells content for many a year; till +one day he thinks "I will look upon my father's face again, though +the leagues be long to my own land." And he rides all day, and sleeps +in a forest; and next morning he is made welcome at home, where his +name has become a dim memory. Which is all as it should be; for, +annihilate time and space as you may, a man's stride remains the true +standard of distance; an eternal and unalterable scale. The severe +horizon, too, repels the thoughts as you gaze to the infinite +considerations that lie about, within touch and hail; and the night +cometh, when no man can work. + +To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now +and again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where +iron has superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull +as the measured beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them +is now a matter of effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our +ordinary course; they are no longer unsought influences towards the +making of character. So perhaps the time of them has gone by, here in +this second generation of steam. Pereunt et imputantur; they pass +away, and are scored against not us but our guilty fathers. For +ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The romance of +the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed -- not fully nor +worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though Emerson +for one will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its right to +immediate recognition as poetic material. "For as it is dislocation +and detachment from the life of God that makes things ugly, the poet, +who re-attaches things to Nature and the whole -- re-attaching even +artificial things and violations of Nature to Nature by a deeper +insight -- disposes very easily of the most disagreeable facts"; so +that he looks upon "the factory village and the railway" and "sees +them fall within the great Order not less than the bee-hive or the +spider's geometrical web." The poet, however, seems hard to convince +hereof. Emerson will have it that "Nature loves the gliding train of +cars"; "instead of which" the poet still goes about the country +singing purling brooks. Painters have been more flexible and liberal. +Turner saw and did his best to seize the spirit of the thing, its +kinship with the elements, and to blend furnace-glare and rush of iron +with the storm-shower, the wind and the thwart-flashing sun-rays, and +to make the whole a single expression of irresoluble force. And even +in a certain work by another and a very different painter -- though I +willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate romantic intention -- you +shall find the element of romance in the vestiges of the old order +still lingering in the first transition period: the coach-shaped +railway carriages with luggage piled and corded on top, the red-coated +guard, the little engine tethered well ahead as if between traces. To +those bred within sight of the sea, steamers will always partake in +somewhat of the "beauty and mystery of the ships"; above all, if +their happy childhood have lain among the gleaming lochs and sinuous +firths of the Western Highlands, where, twice a week maybe, the +strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a piece of the busy, +mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand alone in owning +to a sentimental weakness for the night-piercing whistle -- +judiciously remote, as some men love the skirl of the pipes. In the +days when streets were less wearily familiar than now, or ever the +golden cord was quite loosed that led back to relinquished fields and +wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer nights, thinking of +luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the whistles +from certain railway stations, veritable "horns of Elf-land, faintly +blowing." Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a +phantom train, and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the +journey bit by bit: through the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the +grey glimmer of dawn showed stone walls in place of hedges, and masses +looming up on either side; till the bright sun shone upon brown +leaping streams and purple heather, and the clear, sharp northern air +streamed in through the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; +Endymion-like, "my first touch of the earth went nigh to kill": but +it was only to hurry northwards again on the wings of imagination, +from dust and heat to the dear mountain air. "We are only the +children who might have been," murmured Lamb's dream babes to him; +and for the sake of those dream-journeys, the journeys that might have +been, I still hail with a certain affection the call of the engine in +the night: even as I love sometimes to turn the enchanted pages of the +railway a b c, and pass from one to the other name reminiscent or +suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian maybe, or savouring of Wessex, +or bearing me away to some sequestered reach of the quiet Thames. + +Non Libri Sed Liberi + +It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. +That it is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always +fails to find him thus engaged. He will talk about them -- all night +if you let him -- wave his hand to them, shake his fist at them, shed +tears over them (in the small hours of the morning); but he will not +read them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys his books +without a remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers +start with the honest resolution that some day they will "shut down +on" this fatal practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter +into their charmed circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind +them. Then will they read out of nothing but first editions; every day +shall be a debauch in large paper and tall copies; and crushed morocco +shall be familiar to their touch as buckram. Meanwhile, though, books +continue to flaunt their venal charms; it would be cowardice to shun +the fray. In fine, one buys and continues to buy; and the promised +Sabbath never comes. + +The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein +resembling the familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the +first sight of the Object, accompanied of a catching of the breath, a +trembling in the limbs, loss of appetite, ungovernable desire, and a +habit of melancholy in secret places. But once possessed, once toyed +with amorously for an hour or two, the Object (as in the inferior +passion aforesaid) takes its destined place on the shelf -- where it +stays. And this saith the scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail +to remark with a certain awe that the owner goeth thereafter as one +possessing a happy secret and radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is +insufferably conceited, and his conceit waxeth as his coat, now +condemned to a fresh term of servitude, groweth shabbier. And shabby +though his coat may be, yet will he never stoop to renew its pristine +youth and gloss by the price of any book. No man -- no human, +masculine, natural man -- ever sells a book. Men have been known in +moments of thoughtlessness, or compelled by temporary necessity, to +rob, to equivocate, to do murder, to commit what they should not, to +"wince and relent and refrain" from what they should: these things, +howbeit regrettable, are common to humanity, and may happen to any of +us. But amateur bookselling is foul and unnatural; and it is +noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, contains no +distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly known to +exist: the face of the public being set against it as a flint -- and +the trade giving such wretched prices. + +In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the +reflection that this particular purchase will be a good investment, +sordidly considered: that you are not squandering income but sinking +capital. But you know all the time that you are lying. Once possessed, +books develop a personality: they take on a touch of warm human life +that links them in a manner with our kith and kin. Non angli sed +Angeli was the comment of a missionary (old style) on the small human +duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many a +buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his +possession, must have felt that here was something vendible no more. +So of these you may well affirm Non libri sed liberi; children now, +adopted into the circle, they shall be trafficked in never again. + +There is one exception which has sadly to be made -- one class of men, +of whom I would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are +strangers to any such scruples. These be Executors -- a word to be +strongly accented on the penultimate; for, indeed, they are the common +headsmen of collections, and most of all do whet their bloody edge for +harmless books. Hoary, famous old collections, budding young +collections, fair virgin collections of a single author -- all go down +before the executor's remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth +not. "The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy," and it +is chiefly by the hand of the executor that she doth love to scatter +it. May oblivion be his portion for ever! + +Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most +insidious, because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is +the bookbinder. Not in that he bindeth books -- for the fair binding +is the final crown and flower of painful achievement -- but because he +bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse by and turn to months, and +the months to years, and still the binder bindeth not: and the heart +grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds her hair, +each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and +stream, and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice +whispereth: "Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, full of +bread, with all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At gaming, +swearing, or about some act That hath no relish of salvation in it!" +But when the deed is done, and the floor strewn with fragments of +binder -- still the books remain unbound. You have made all that +horrid mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden over +again. As a general rule, the man in the habit of murdering +bookbinders, though he performs a distinct service to society, only +wastes his own time and takes no personal advantage. + +And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in +leathern surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet +weathered the Cape and sailed into halcyon seas. For these books -- +well, you kept them many weeks before binding them, that the +oleaginous printer's-ink might fully dry before the necessary +hammering; you forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder +might refold the sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over -- +consummatum est -- still you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a +quiet mind. For these purple emperors are not to be read in bed, nor +during meals, nor on the grass with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief +periods are all the whirling times allow you for solid serious +reading. Still, after all, you have them; you can at least pulverise +your friends with the sight; and what have they to show against them? +Probably some miserable score or so of half-bindings, such as lead you +scornfully to quote the hackneyed couplet concerning the poor Indian +whose untutored mind clothes him before but leaves him bare behind. +Let us thank the gods that such things are: that to some of us they +give not poverty nor riches but a few good books in whole bindings. +Dowered with these and (if it be vouchsafed) a cup of Burgundy that is +sound even if it be not old, we can leave to others the foaming grape +of Eastern France that was vintaged in '74, and with it the whole +range of shilling shockers, -- the Barmecidal feast of the purposeful +novelist -- yea, even the countless series that tell of Eminent Women +and Successful Men. + +Loafing + +When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when Autumn +has been carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good fellows +who look upon holidays as a chief end of life return from moor and +stream and begin to take stock of gains and losses. And the wisest, +realising that the time of action is over while that of reminiscence +has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant with greater pleasures +than the other -- that action, indeed, is only the means to an end of +reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the Loafer stands apart +supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher as to the end, goes +straight to it at once; and his happy summer has accordingly been +spent in those subjective pleasures of the mind whereof the others, +the men of muscle and peeled faces, are only just beginning to taste. + +And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the +Loafer does not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they +are very necessary to him. For "Suave mari magno" is the motto of +your true Loafer; and it is chiefly by keeping ever in view the +struggles and the clamorous jostlings of the unenlightened making +holiday that he is able to realise the bliss of his own condition and +maintain his self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he never +very far away from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, +but hovers more or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star +amidst whirling constellations, he may watch the mad world "glance, +and nod, and hurry by." + +There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of +Scotland. Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its +tranquil "lucid interval" between steamers, the ever recurrent throb +of paddle-wheel, the rush and foam of beaten water among the piles, +splash of ropes and rumble of gangways, and all the attendant hurry +and scurry of the human morrice. Here, tanquam in speculo, the Loafer +as he lounges may, by attorney as it were, touch gently every stop in +the great organ of the emotions of mortality. Rapture of meeting, +departing woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, indifference -- +he may experience them all, but attenuated and as if he saw them in a +dream; as if, indeed, he were Heine's god in dream on a mountain-side. +Let the drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, emanations of his +dream, will vanish into the nothing whence they came. And these +emotions may be renewed each morning; if a fair one sail to-day, be +sure that one as fair will land to-morrow. The supply is +inexhaustible. + +But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of +Father Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with +its blisters, perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the +bliss of "quietism." I know one little village in the upper reaches +where loafing may be pushed to high perfection. Here the early hours +of the morning are vexed by the voices of boaters making their way +down the little street to the river. The most of them go staggering +under hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their voices are +clamant of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they will punt, +they will paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the Loafer +hears through the open door of his cottage, where in his shirt-sleeves +he is dallying with his bacon, as a gentleman should. He is the only +one who has had a comfortable breakfast -- and he knows it. Later he +will issue forth and stroll down in their track to the bridge. The +last of these Argonauts is pulling lustily forth; the river is dotted +with evanishing blazers. Upon all these lunatics a pitiless Phoebus +shines triumphant. The Loafer sees the last of them off the stage, +turns his back on it, and seeks the shady side of the street. + +A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed +away with shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of +somnolency is in evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, +let him respectfully greet each several village dog. Arcades ambo -- +loafers likewise -- they lie there in the warm dust, each outside his +own door, ready to return the smallest courtesy. Their own lords and +masters are not given to the exchange of compliments nor to greetings +in the market-place. The dog is generally the better gentleman, and he +is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, who is not too +proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the time of day. He +will mark his sense of this attention by rising from his dust-divan +and accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But he will stop +short of his neighbour's dust-patch; for the morning is really too hot +for a shindy. So, by easy stages (the street is not a long one: six +dogs will see it out), the Loafer quits the village; and now the world +is before him. Shall he sit on a gate and smoke? or lie on the grass +and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large along the road? Such a +choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last course is the +best -- as needing the least mental effort of selection. Hardly, +however, has he fairly started his first daydream when the snappish +"ting" of a bellkin recalls him to realities. By comes the +bicyclist: dusty, sweating, a piteous thing to look upon. But the +irritation of the strepitant metal has jarred the Loafer's always +exquisite nerves: he is fain to climb a gate and make his way towards +solitude and the breezy downs. + +Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is +alone with the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of +larks and a tinkling from distant flocks break the brooding noonday +stillness; above, the wind-hover hangs motionless, a black dot on the +blue. Prone on his back on the springy turf, gazing up into the sky, +his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the spirit ranges at +will among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. Earth +no longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still "spins like a fretful midge." The Loafer +knows not nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through golden +spaces of imagination his soul is winging her untrammelled flight. And +there he really might remain for ever, but that his vagrom spirit is +called back to earth by a gentle but resistless, very human summons, +-- a gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, thirst: a thirst to +thank Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, half of anticipation, +he bends his solitary steps towards the nearest inn. Tobacco for one +is good; to commune with oneself and be still is truest wisdom; but +beer is a thing of deity -- beer is divine. + +Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle +out he will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush +and the meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets +of even. The loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant +moan of the weir; his are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, +of the sunset-haunted surface. By-and-by the boaters will pass him +homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: his withers are unwrung. +Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset glories; no corporeal +pangs clog his sthesis -- his perceptive faculty. Some have +quarrelled in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; he is at +peace with himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay them down +in the little village that night, his sleep will be the surest and the +sweetest. For not even the blacksmith himself will have better claim +to have earned a night's repose. + +Cheap Knowledge + +When at times it happens to me that I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, +and to find the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core -- just +because, perhaps, I can't afford Melampus Brown's last volume of poems +in large paper, but must perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny +edition for the million -- then I bring myself to a right temper by +recalling to memory a sight which now and again in old days would +touch the heart of me to a happier pulsation. In the long, dark winter +evenings, outside some shop window whose gaslight flared brightest +into the chilly street, I would see some lad -- sometimes even a girl +-- book in hand, heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and +straining eyes, careless of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil +behind them and about, their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: +till the ruthless shopman turned out the gas and brought them rudely +back to the bitter reality of cramped legs and numbed fingers. "My +brother!" or "My sister!" I would cry inwardly, feeling the link +that bound us together. They possessed, for the hour, the two gifts +most precious to the student -- light and solitude: the true solitude +of the roaring street. + +Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries +have supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can +enter and call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon "in luxury's +sofa-lap of leather"; and of course this boon is appreciated and +profited by, and we shall see the divine results in a year or two. And +yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the "Red Lamp," "I +wonder?" + +For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely +wastes and dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the +feeling of restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these +other readers, "all silent and all damned," combine to set up a +nervous irritation fatal to quiet study. Had I to choose, I would +prefer the windy street. And possibly others have found that the +removal of checks and obstacles makes the path which leads to the +divine mountain-tops less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So +full of human nature are we all -- still -- despite the Radical +missionaries that labour in the vineyard. Before the National Gallery +was extended and rearranged, there was a little "St Catherine" by +Pinturicchio that possessed my undivided affections. In those days she +hung near the floor, so that those who would worship must grovel; and +little I grudged it. Whenever I found myself near Trafalgar Square +with five minutes to spare I used to turn in and sit on the floor +before the object of my love, till gently but firmly replaced on my +legs by the attendant. She hangs on the line now, in the grand new +room; but I never go to see her. Somehow she is not my "St +Catherine" of old. Doubtless Free Libraries affect many students in +the same way: on the same principle as that now generally accepted -- +that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our social code which +make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. + +But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, +it remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or +two of Free Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world +most desiderates; and whether the spare reading and consequent fertile +thinking necessitated by the old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive +of sounder results. The cloyed and congested mind resulting from the +free run of these grocers' shops to omnivorous appetites (and all +young readers are omnivorous) bids fair to produce a race of literary +resurrection-men: a result from which we may well pray to be spared. +Of all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits the original +work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary +expression by pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer's boy of +letters is sure to prove a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be +fulfilling the programme of its advocates, is breeding such as he by +scores. + +But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation +may be drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would +appear that the patrons of these libraries are confining their +reading, with a charming unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed +they cannot do better; there is no more blessed thing on earth than a +good novel, not the least merit of which is that it induces a state of +passive, unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies the reader to go +out and put the world right. Next to fairy tales -- the original +world-fiction -- our modern novels may be ranked as our most precious +possessions; and so it has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully +pay my five shillings, or ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly +be, in the pound towards the Free Library: convinced at last that the +money is not wasted in training exponents of the subjectivity of this +writer and the objectivity of that, nor in developing fresh imitators +of dead discredited styles, but is righteously devoted to the support +of wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. + +The Rural Pan + +An April Essay + +Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside the +restless Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little +hoarse from bidding in the market. Further west, down classic +Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the lord of the unerring (satin) +bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in these latter years +float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts than these +the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that reaches +only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins +to blow a clearer note. + +When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities +will abroad too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this +that flieth up the reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the +day? Mercury is out -- some dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed +banks crumble and slide down under the wash of his rampant screw; his +wake is marked by a line of lobster-claws, gold-necked bottles, and +fragments of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may even be seen to +embrace the slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, in the +full gaze of the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime +reposeth, passively beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards' Club at +Maidenhead. Here, O Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity +subjectively inclined, he is neither objective nor, it must be said +for him, at all objectionable, like them of Mercury. + +Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural +Pan. In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may be +paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked +for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment. Or under the great +shadow of Streatley Hill, "annihilating all that's made to a green +thought in a green shade"; or better yet, pushing an explorer's prow +up the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester's stately roof broods +over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these Pan sits and +dabbles, and all the air is full of the music of his piping. +Southwards, again, on the pleasant Surrey downs there is shouting and +jostling; dust that is drouthy and language that is sultry. Thither +comes the young Apollo, calmly confident as ever; and he meeteth +certain Mercuries of the baser sort, who do him obeisance, call him +captain and lord, and then proceed to skin him from head to foot as +thoroughly as the god himself flayed Marsyas in days of yore, at a +certain Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good instance of Time's revenges. +And yet Apollo returns to town and swears he has had a grand day. He +does so every year. Out of hearing of all the clamour, the rural Pan +may be found stretched on Ranmore Common, loitering under Abinger +pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the sinuous Mole, abounding +in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers the dab-chick and +water-rat. + +For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour +with a society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant +combination of Mtropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will urge +the horses of the Sun: and, if he leaveth the society weekly to +Mercury, yet he loveth well the Magazine. From which omphalos or hub +of the universe he will direct his shining team even to the far +Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron road and level highway +are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot it along the +sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with +feather and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is +unsocial. Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities, +he loveth the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are +adscripti gleb, addicted to the kindly soil and to the working +thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For he is +only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is strong. When +the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, among +the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to appear at +times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten +shepherd from the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy he will then +impart, in the musical Wessex or Mercian he has learned to speak so +naturally; though it may not be till many a mile away that you begin +to suspect that you have unwittingly talked with him who chased the +flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of fight at Marathon. + +Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through -- east +and west, north and south -- bringing with it Commercialism, whose god +is Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams +with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and +chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part +is still spared -- how great these others fortunately do not know -- +in which the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet +a little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last +common, spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the +well-wisher to man -- whither? + +Marginalia + +American Hunt, in his suggestive "Talks about Art," demands that the +child shall be encouraged -- or rather permitted, for the natural +child needs little encouragement -- to draw when- and whereon-soever +he can; for, says he, the child's scribbling on the margin of his +school-books is really worth more to him than all he gets out of them, +and indeed, "to him the margin is the best part of all books, and he +finds in it the soothing influence of a clear sky in a landscape." +Doubtless Sir Benjamin Backbite, though his was not an artist soul, +had some dim feeling of this mighty truth when he spoke of that new +quarto of his, in which "a neat rivulet of text shall meander through +a meadow of margin": boldly granting the margin to be of superior +importance to the print. This metaphor is pleasantly expanded in +Burton's "Bookhunter": wherein you read of certain folios with +"their majestic stream of central print overflowing into rivulets of +marginal notes, sedgy with citations." But the good Doctor leaves the +main stream for a backwater of error in inferring that the chief use +of margins is to be a parading-ground for notes and citations. As if +they had not absolute value in themselves, nor served a finer end! In +truth, Hunt's child was vastly the wiser man. + +For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and +illustrate the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or "tail" edge, +the saurian, splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of old +Nile; up one side negroes, swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn +them, let fall their nerveless spears; up the other, monkeys, +gibbering with terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees -- a plant to the +untutored hand of easier outline than (say) your British oak. +Meanwhile, all over the unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the most +inadequate provocation, or Hannibal pursued his victorious career, +while Roman generals delivered ornate set speeches prior to receiving +the usual satisfactory licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal -- all alike were +pallid shades with faint, thin voices powerless to pierce the +distance. The margins of Cocytus doubtless knew them: mine were +dedicated to the more attractive flesh and blood of animal life, the +varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, in more practical mood, I +would stoop to render certain facts recorded in the text. To these +digressions I probably owe what little education I possess. For +example, there was one sentence in our Roman history: "By this single +battle of Magnesia, Antiochus the Great lost all his conquests in Asia +Minor." Serious historians really should not thus forget themselves. +'Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, to transform "battle" into +"bottle"; for "conquests" one could substitute a word for which +not even Macaulay's school-boy were at a loss; and the result, +depicted with rude vigour in his margin, fixed the name of at least +one ancient fight on the illustrator's memory. But this plodding and +material art had small charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a +"clear sky" ever through which I could sail away at will to more +gracious worlds. I was duly qualified by a painfully acquired +ignorance of dead languages cautiously to approach my own; and 'twas +no better. Along Milton's margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the +Arimaspian -- what a chance, that Arimaspian, for the imaginative +pencil! And so it has come about that, while Milton periods are mostly +effaced from memory by the sponge of Time, I can still see that +vengeful Gryphon, cousin-german to the gentle beast that danced the +Lobster Quadrille by a certain shore. + +It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins +is for pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and +crosses, nor (in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled +against the canticle for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent +pew: as used, alas! to happen in days when one was young and godless, +and went to church. Nor, again, are the margins of certain poets +entrusted to man for the composing thereon of infinitely superior +rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a depraved habit, +akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is the +absolute value of the margin itself -- a value frequently superior to +its enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and +takes care to get it in "the little verses wot they puts inside the +crackers." The special popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to +epic verse is due to this habit of feeling. A good example maybe found +in the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is the better poetry, the +earlier remains the more popular -- because of its eloquence of +margin. Mr Tupper might long ago have sat with laureate brow but for +his neglect of this first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic +of the century, is pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full +meed of glory it deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote +"Beowulf," our other English epic, grasped the great fact from the +first, so that his work is much the more popular of the two. The moral +is evident. An authority on practical book-making has stated that +"margin is a matter to be studied"; also that "to place the print +in the centre of the paper is wrong in principle, and to be +deprecated." Now, if it be "wrong in principle," let us push that +principle to its legitimate conclusion, and "deprecate" the placing +of print on any part of the paper at all. Without actually suggesting +this course to any of our living bards, when, I may ask -- when shall +that true poet arise who, disdaining the trivialities of text, shall +give the world a book of verse consisting entirely of margin? How we +shall shove and jostle for large paper copies! + +The Eternal Whither + +There was once an old cashier in some ancient City establishment, +whose practice was to spend his yearly holiday in relieving some +turnpike-man at his post, and performing all the duties appertaining +thereunto. This was vulgarly taken to be an instance of mere +mill-horse enslavement to his groove -- the reception of payments; and +it was spoken of both in mockery of all mill-horses and for the due +admonishment of others. And yet that clerk had discovered for himself +an unique method of seeing Life at its best, the flowing, hurrying, +travelling, marketing Life of the Highway; the life of bagman and +cart, of tinker, and pig-dealer, and all cheery creatures that drink +and chaffer together in the sun. He belonged, above all, to the scanty +class of clear-seeing persons who know both what they are good for and +what they really want. To know what you would like to do is one thing; +to go out boldly and do it is another -- and a rarer; and the sterile +fields about Hell-Gate are strewn with the corpses of those who would +an if they could. + +To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one's soul, +it is possible to push one's disregard for convention too far: as is +seen in the case of another, though of an earlier generation, in the +same establishment. In his office there was the customary +"attendance-book," wherein the clerks were expected to sign each +day. Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from appearing; he +signs, indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little later, +writ in careful commercial hand, this entry: "Mr --- did not attend +at his office to-day, having been hanged at eight o'clock in the +morning for horse-stealing." Through the faded ink of this record do +you not seem to catch, across the gulf of years, some waft of the +jolly humanity which breathed in this prince among clerks? A formal +precisian, doubtless, during business hours; but with just this honest +love of horseflesh lurking deep down there in him -- unsuspected, +sweetening the whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from his +desk, turning to pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still +striveth to bury his bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, +you may be sure, but from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the +same, he erred; erred, if not in taste, at least in judgment: for we +cannot entirely acquit him of blame for letting himself be caught. + +In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our +melancholy selves are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, +whereof our happier fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, +remains to us; but every one is not a collector; and, besides, 'tis a +diversion you can follow with equal success all the year round. Still, +the instance may haply be pregnant with suggestion to many who wearily +ask each year, what new place or pursuit exhausted earth still keeps +for the holiday-maker. 'Tis a sad but sober fact, that the most of men +lead flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with their family to +some flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a manner +that is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not +try crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular branch -- +for every one must himself seek out and find the path his nature best +fits him to follow; but the general charm of the prospect must be +evident to all. The freshness and novelty of secrecy, the artistic +satisfaction in doing the act of self-expression as well as it can +possibly be done; the experience of being not the hunter, but the +hunted, not the sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing and +discussing crimes with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return to +town; these new pleasures -- these and their like -- would furnish +just that gentle stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary +to the tired worker. And then the fact, that you would naturally have +to select and plan out your particular line of diversion without +advice or assistance, has its own advantage. For the moment a man +takes to dinning in your ears that you ought, you really ought, to go +to Norway, you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate that ever will +be; and to have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the Austrian +Tyrol jammed down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery +that your own individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking +for manslaughter. + +Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After +all, it is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less +culpable than their neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none +need really blush for in the present. For such as they there still +remains the example of the turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden +possibilities. Denied the great delight of driving a locomotive, or a +fire-engine -- whirled along in a glorious nimbus of smoke-pant, +spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar -- what bliss to the palefaced +quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! +Though turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be +taken on many a pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet +moments to tend the lock-keeper's flower-beds -- perhaps make love to +his daughter; anon in busier times to let the old gates swing, work +the groaning winches, and hear the water lap and suck and gurgle as it +slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; to dangle legs over +the side and greet old acquaintances here and there among the +parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not +on the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron +tetter that scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant +life of the road; but many of its best conditions still linger round +these old toll gates, free from dust and clatter, on the silent liquid +Highway to the West. + +These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the +Gift, the path is plain. + +Deus Terminus + +The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when he +needs must worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his +parcelling of the known world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide +here, and to that, Sit you down there, he could scarce fail to evolve +the god Terminus: visible witness of possession and dominion, type of +solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans of this latter day -- +so hailed by others, or complacently christened by ourselves -- are +Roman in nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less tangible +realms of thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the +statue which shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked +out, allotted, and done with; that such and such ramblings and +excursions are practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, +illegal, or absurd. And in this way we are left with naught but a +vague lingering tradition of the happier days before the advent of the +ruthless deity. + +The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each +autumn, regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; +banished by the matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly +where Lord A.'s shooting ends and Squire B.'s begins. Once, no such +petty limitations fettered the mind. A step into the woodland was a +step over the border -- the margin of the material; and then, good-bye +to the modern world of the land-agent and the "Field" advertisement! +A chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the peregrine, with +eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her jesses catching in +the boughs. 'Twas the favourite of the Princess, the windows of whose +father's castle already gleamed through the trees, where honours and +favours awaited the adventurous. The white doe sprang away through the +thicket, her snowy flank stained with blood; she made for the +enchanted cot, and for entrance you too had the pass-word. Did you +fail on her traces, nor fox nor mole was too busy to spare a moment +for friendly advice or information. Little hands were stretched to +trip you, fairy gibe and mockery pelted you from every rabbit-hole; +and O what Dryads you have kissed among the leaves, in that brief +blissful moment ere they hardened into tree! 'Tis pity, indeed, that +this sort of thing should have been made to share the suspicion +attaching to the poacher; that the stony stare of the boundary god +should confront you at the end of every green ride and rabbit-run; +while the very rabbits themselves are too disgusted with the altered +circumstances to tarry a moment for so much as to exchange the time of +day. + +Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something +a round belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden +era of princesses is past. For your really virtuous 'prentices there +still remain a merchant's daughter or two, and a bottle of port o' +Sundays on the Clapham mahogany. For the rest of us, one or two decent +clubs, and plenty of nice roomy lunatic asylums. "Go spin, you jade, +go spin!" is the one greeting for Imagination. And yet -- what a lip +the slut has! What an ankle! Go to: there's nobody looking; let us +lock the door, pull down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. + +'Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so +much is given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and +allotments that shall win back Astra. Our Labor Program stands for +evidence that the Board School, at least, has done enduring work; and +the useless race of poets is fast dying out. Though we no longer +conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed +when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of guineas galore) +awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more practical +research. "Le monde marche," as Renan hath it, "vers une sorte +d'americanisme.... Peut-tre la vulgarit gnrale sera-t-elle un jour +la condition du bonheur des lus. Nous n'avons pas le droit d'etre +fort difficiles." We will be very facile, then, since needs must; +remembering the good old proverb that "scornful dogs eat dirty +puddings." But, ere we show Terminus the door, at least let us fling +one stone at the shrieking sulphureous houses of damnation erected as +temples in his honour, and dignified with his name! There, 'mid +clangour, dirt, and pestilence of crowding humanity, the very spirit +of worry and unrest sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad +fellow. His deity of demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew +the kindly touch of sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid +flowers and under blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on +this particular altar the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any +stain of gore. Our hour of sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it +does -- ( et haud procul absit!) -- let the offering be no bloodless +one, but let (for choice) a fat and succulent stationmaster smoke and +crackle on the altar of expiation! + +Of Smoking + +Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a certain +philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and pleasant +to indulge in, "when you're not smoking"; wherein the whole +criticism of the cigarette is found, in a little room. Of the same +manner of thinking was one that I knew, who kept by him an ample case +bulging with cigarettes, to smoke while he was filling his pipe. Toys +they be verily, nug, and shadows of the substance. Serviceable, +nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the substance is +temporarily unattainable; as between the acts of a play, in the park, +or while dressing for dinner: that such moments may not be entirely +wasted. That cigarette, however, which is so prompt to appear after +dinner I would reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as enemy to that +diviner thing before which it should pale its ineffectual fires in +shame -- to wit, good drink, "la dive bouteille"; except indeed when +the liquor be bad, as is sometimes known to happen. Then it may serve +in some sort as a sorry consolation. But to leave these airy +substitutes, and come to smoking. + +It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, +or that first pipe of the evening which "Hesperus, who bringeth all +good things," brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is +smoked on a clearer palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss +of one's first love; but lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of +merit recompensed and the goal and the garland won, which clings to +the vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the majority give the palm to +the latter. To which I intend no slight when I find the incense that +arises at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, although +with most of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and +swinkers, the morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of +alarums and excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there +are certain halcyon periods sure to arrive -- Sundays, holidays, and +the like -- the whole joy and peace of which are summed up in that one +beatific pipe after breakfast, smoked in a careless majesty like that +of the gods "when they lie beside their nectar, and the clouds are +lightly curled." Then only can we be said really to smoke. And so +this particular pipe of the day always carries with it festal +reminiscences: memories of holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; +a suggestion of sunny lawns and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense +withal of something free and stately, as of "faint march-music in the +air," or the old Roman cry of "Liberty, freedom, and +enfranchisement." + +If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker's ointment, it may be said to +lurk in the matter of "rings." Only the exceptionally gifted smoker +can recline in his chair and emit at will the perfect smoke-ring, in +consummate eddying succession. He of the meaner sort must be content +if, at rare heaven-sent intervals -- while thinking, perhaps, of +nothing less -- there escape from his lips the unpremeditated flawless +circle. Then "deus fio" he is moved to cry, at that breathless +moment when his creation hangs solid and complete, ere the particles +break away and blend with the baser atmosphere. Nay, some will deny to +any of us terrene smokers the gift of fullest achievement: for what +saith the poet of the century? "On the earth the broken arcs: in the +heaven the perfect round!" + +It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins's +novels (if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will +take pleasure in scents derived from animal emanations, clarified +fats, and the like; yet do illogically abhor the "clean, dry, +vegetable smell" of tobacco. Herein the true base of the feminine +objection is reached; being, as usual, inherent want of logic rather +than any distaste, in the absolute, for the thing in question. +Thinking that they ought to dislike, they do painfully cast about for +reasons to justify their dislike, when none really exist. As a +specimen of their so-called arguments, I remember how a certain fair +one triumphantly pointed out to me that my dog, though loving me well, +could yet never be brought to like the smell of tobacco. To whom I, +who respected my dog (as Ben saith of Master Shakespeare) on this side +idolatry as much as anything, was yet fain to point out -- more in +sorrow than in anger -- that a dog, being an animal who delights to +pass his whole day, from early morn to dewy eve, in shoving his nose +into every carrion beastliness that he can come across, could hardly +be considered arbiter elegantiarum in the matter of smells. But indeed +I did wrong to take such foolish quibbling seriously; nor would I have +done so, if she hadn't dragged my poor innocent dog into the +discussion. + +Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity -- an +instance of that excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into +vice -- and couple it with dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify +themselves by argument. For if bed be by common consent the greatest +bliss, the divinest spot, on earth, "ille terrarum qui prter omnes +angulus ridet"; and if tobacco be the true Herb of Grace, and a joy +and healing balm, and respite and nepenthe, -- if all this be +admitted, why are two things, super-excellent separately, noxious in +conjunction? And is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in pleasure +-- self indulgent perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of a new +"blend," reminding one of a certain traveller's account of an +intoxicant patronised in the South Sea Islands, which combines the +blissful effect of getting drunk and remaining sober to enjoy it? Yet +I shall not insist too much on this point, but would only ask -- so +long as the smoker be unwedded -- for some tolerance in the matter and +a little logic in the discussion thereof. + +Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within +common knowledge. 1 d., 2 d., nay even 4 d., is not too great a price, +if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of expense. In this +sort of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory and ostentation +than solid satisfaction; and its votaries would seem to display less a +calm, healthy affection for tobacco than (as Sir T. Browne hath it) a +"passionate prodigality." And, besides grievous wasting of the +pocket, atmospheric changes, varyings in the crops, and the like, +cause uncertainty to cling about each individual weed, so that man is +always more or less at the mercy of Nature and the elements -- an +unsatisfactory and undignified position in these latter days of the +Triumphant Democracy. But worst and fatallest of all, to every +cigar-smoker it is certain to happen that once in his life, by some +happy combination of time, place, temperament, and Nature -- by some +starry influence, maybe, or freak of the gods in mocking sport -- +once, and once only, he will taste the aroma of the perfect leaf at +just the perfect point -- the ideal cigar. Henceforth his life is +saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a dream, he goes thereafter, +as one might say, in a sort of love-sickness. Seeking he scarce knows +what, his existence becomes a dissatisfied yearning; the world is +spoiled for him, its joys are tasteless: so he wanders, +vision-haunted, down dreary days to some miserable end. + +Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be +done at comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman +motto, slightly altered -- Alieni appetens, sui avarus. There be +always good fellows, with good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the +boxes of these lie open; an the good cigar belongs rather to him that +can appreciate it aright than to the capitalist who, owing to a false +social system, happens to be its temporary guardian and trustee. Again +there is a saying -- bred first, I think, among the schoolmen at +Oxford -- that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father's +income. Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, +after the most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can +resolutely smoke his father's cigars. In the path of duty complete +success is not always to be looked for; but an approving conscience, +the sure reward of honest endeavour, is within reach of all. + +An Autumn Encounter + +For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through level +fields, till it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already golden +three-parts up with ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my inevitable +way; and now that home is almost in sight it seems hard that the last +part of the long day's sweltering and delightful tramp must needs be +haunted by that hateful speck, black on the effulgence of the slope. +Did I not know he was only a scarecrow, the thing might be in a way +companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing curiosity, +gilding this last weary stage with some magic of expectancy. But I +passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, he was already up +and doing, eager to introduce himself. He leered after me as I swung +down the road, -- mimicked my gait, as it seemed, in a most +uncalled-for way; and when I looked back, he was blowing derisive +kisses of farewell with his empty sleeve. + +I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the +morning's start and now; so it was annoying that he should force +himself on me, just when there was no getting rid of him. At this +distance, however, he might be anything. An indeterminate blot, it +seems to waver, to falter, to come and vanish again in the quivering, +heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on that familiar gate -- +are the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable? -- I used to +watch Her pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was +ridiculous, it was fatuous, under all the circumstances it was +monstrous, and yet{...}! We were both under twenty, so She was She, +and I was I, and there were only we three the wide world over, she and +I and the unbetraying gate. Porta eburnea! False visions alone sped +through you, though Cupid was wont to light on your topmost bar, and +preen his glowing plumes. And to think that I should see her once +more, coming down the path as if not a day had passed, hesitating as +of old, and then -- but surely her ankles seem -- Confound that +scarecrow!... + +His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, +which is as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a +new tack. Though here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an +evening breeze is playing briskly along the slope where he stands, and +one sleeve saws the air violently; the other is pointed stiffly +heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor friend! The sins of the +world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You have a mission, +you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. For man, +he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own particular +business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping it: +"Salvation, damnation, damnation, salvation!" And the jolly earth +smiles in the perfect evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs all +round you, and one young rook (only fledged this year, too!), after an +excellent simulation of prostrate, heart-broken penitence, soars +joyously away, to make love to his neighbour's wife. "Salvation, +damnation, damn -- " A shifty wriggle of the road, and he is +transformed once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, holding +his lean sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and gurgle of +merriment. Ho, ho! what a joke it was! How I took you all in! Even the +rooks! What a joke is everything, to be sure! + +Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless mummer. +Fortunately I shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old dog +waxes amorous. Mincing, mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he +would fain pose as the most irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced +a metropolitan kerb. "Love, you young dogs," he seems to croak, +"Love is the one thing worth living for! Enjoy your present, rooks +and all, as I do!" Why, indeed, should he alone be insensible to the +golden influence of the hour? More than one supple waist (alas! for +universal masculine frailty!) has been circled by that tattered sleeve +in days gone by; a throbbing heart once beat where sodden straw now +fails to give a manly curve to the chest. Why should the coat survive, +and not a particle of the passion that inspired it long ago? + +At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins +recognition, completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a +significant glance under the slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm +points persistently and with intelligence up the road. My good fellow, +I know the way to the Dog and Duck as well as you do: I was going +there anyhow, without your officious interference -- and the beer, as +you justly remark, is unimpeachable. But was this really all you've +been trying to say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! + +The White Poppy + +A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses +heavy tresses with gipsy abandon; her sister of the sea-shore is +golden, a yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the spray. +Of another hue is the poppy of history, of romance, of the muse. White +as the stark death-shroud, pallid as the cheeks of that queen of a +silent land whose temples she languorously crowns, ghost-like beside +her fuller-blooded kin, she droops dream-laden, Papaver somniferum, +the poppy of the magic juice of oblivion. In the royal plenitude of +summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes seem but a red cry from +earth in memory of the many dews of battle that have drenched these +acres in years gone by, for little end but that these same "bubbles +of blood" might glow to-day; the yellow flower does but hint of the +gold that has dashed a thousand wrecks at her feet around these +shores: for happier suggestion we must turn to her of the pallid +petals, our white Lady of Consolation. Fitting hue to typify the +crowning blessing of forgetfulness! Too often the sable robes of night +dissemble sleeplessness, remorse, regret, self-questioning. Let black, +then, rather stand for hideous memory: white for blessed blank +oblivion, happiest gift of the gods! For who, indeed, can say that the +record of his life is not crowded with failure and mistake, stained +with its petty cruelties of youth, its meannesses and follies of later +years, all which storm and clamour incessantly at the gates of memory, +refusing to be shut out? Leave us alone, O gods, to remember our +felicities, our successes: only aid us, ye who recall no gifts, aptly +and discreetly to forget. + +Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for +happiness. In the minor matter, for instance, of small money +obligations, that shortness of memory which the school of Professors +Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, may often betray into some +unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject which shall pain the +delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser clay, shall +lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and +thereby to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as +Marcus Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral character. +This is to be a stumbling-block and an offence against the brethren. +It is better to keep just memory enough to avoid such hidden rocks and +shoals; in which thing Mr Swiveller is our great exemplar, whose +mental map of London was a chart wherein every creditor was carefully +"buoyed." + +The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to +the prayer -- and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to +think that we are the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our +friends, we can swear, have all, without exception, atrocious +memories; why is ours alone so hideously vital? Yet this isolation +must be imaginary; for even as we engage in this selfish moan for help +in our own petty case, we are moved to add a word for certain others +who, meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity's +already heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in +this world by the reckless "recollections" of dramatic and other +celebrities? You gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, +above all other sorts and conditions of men, these our poor erring +brothers and sisters, the sometime sommits of Mummerdom! + +Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: +when some subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even +some touch of a fresher air on your cheeks at night -- a breath of +"le vent qui vient travers la montagne" -- have power to ravish, +to catch you back to the blissful days when you trod the one authentic +Paradise. Moments only, alas! Then the evil crowd rushes in again, +howls in the sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the happy garden; +and once more you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the white +poppy. And you envy your dog who, for full discharge of a present +benefaction having wagged you a hearty, expressive tail, will then +pursue it gently round the hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he +reaches it at last, and oblivion with it; every one of his half-dozen +diurnal sleeps being in truth a royal amnesty. + +But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita +blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but +this gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is +"grace and remembrance." The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a +nursling she hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a +"sorrow's crown of sorrow." What flowers are these her pale hand +offers? "There's pansies, that's for thoughts!" For me rather, O +dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness. + +A Bohemian in Exile + +A Reminiscence + +When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of +Bohemia gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were +found to chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the +fate of this or that once powerful chieftain who either donned the +swallow-tail and conformed or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet +retreat and died as he had lived, a Bohemian. But these were of the +princes of the land. To the people, the villeins, the common rank and +file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and pine, anmic, in +thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the scornful and +learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only "the short and simple +annals of the poor." + +It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom +as a United States -- a collection of self-ruling guilds, +municipalities, or republics, bound together by a common method of +viewing life. "There once was a king of Bohemia" -- but that was a +long time ago, and even Corporal Trim was not certain in whose reign +it was. These small free States, then, broke up gradually, from +various causes and with varying speed; and I think ours was one of the +last to go. + +With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost leaders. "Just +for a handful of silver he left us"; though it was not exactly that, +but rather that, having got the handful of silver, they wanted a wider +horizon to fling it about under than Bloomsbury afforded. + + So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, one by one -- + +But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their +success, and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. + +When old Pan was dead and Apollo's bow broken, there were many +faithful pagans who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to +the hills and caves, truer to the old gods in their discrowned +desolation than in their pomp and power. Even so were we left behind, +a remnant of the faithful. We had never expected to become great in +art or song; it was the life itself that we loved; that was our end -- +not, as with them, the means to an end. + + We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we; + Give us the glory of going on and still to be. + +Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had +changed, and we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. + +Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past +was dead, and he wasn't going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, too, +would be dead to Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man's +death, said "he changed his life." This is how Fothergill changed +his life and died to Bloomsbury. One morning he made his way to the +Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. The Whitechapel +barrows are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by a boy with +half a dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall pony, such +as on Sundays take the members of a club to Epping Forest. They are +all precisely the same in plan and construction, only in the larger +sizes the handles develop or evolve into shafts; and they are equally +suitable, according to size, for the vending of whelks, for a +hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for the conveyance of a cheery and +numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a medium sized +"developed" one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it painted white, +picked out with green -- the barrow, not the donkey -- and when his +arrangements were complete, stabled the whole for the night in +Bloomsbury. The following morning, before the early red had quite +faded from the sky, the exodus took place, those of us who were left +being assembled to drink a parting whisky-and-milk in sad and solemn +silence. Fothergill turned down Oxford Street, sitting on the shaft +with a short clay in his mouth, and disappeared from our sight, +heading west at a leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives by way +of the Bayswater Road. + +They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, +from the fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It +seems that eventually, his style of living being economical, he was +enabled to put down his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a +mare -- no fashionable gipsy-cart, a sort of houseboat on wheels, but +a light and serviceable cart, with a moveable tilt, constructed on his +own designs. This allowed him to take along with him a few canvases +and other artists' materials; soda-water, whisky, and such like +necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if +he wanted to. + +He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to +Streatley one afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long +ramble on the glorious North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before +dinner. Somewhere over on Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the +Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, I found him, smoking his +vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare cropping the short +grass beside him. He greeted me without surprise or effusion, as if we +had only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion to past +times, but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three years, +and, without ever telling his story right out, left a strange +picturesque impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated +by fifty years from modern conventional existence. The old road-life +still lingered on in places, it seemed, once one got well away from +the railway: there were two Englands existing together, the one +fringing the great iron highways wherever they might go -- the England +under the eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, in +whatever places were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as +of old: the England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of +by-lanes and village-greens -- the England of Parson Adams and +Lavengro. The spell of the free untrammelled life came over me as I +listened, till I was fain to accept of his hospitality and a +horse-blanket for the night, oblivious of civilised comforts down at +the Bull. On the downs where Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing +up at the quiet stars that had shone on many a Dane lying stark and +still a thousand years ago; and in the silence of the lone tract that +enfolded us we seemed nearer to those old times than to these I had +left that afternoon, in the now hushed and sleeping valley of the +Thames. + +When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill's aunt had +died and left him her house near town and the little all she had +possessed, I heard it with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For the +house had been his grandfather's, and he had spent much of his boyhood +there; it had been a dream of his early days to possess it in some +happy future, and I knew he could never bear to sell or let it. On the +other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the desert? And will not the +caged eagle mope and pine? + +However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for +the time. The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the +mare turned out to grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all +seeming, with "a book of verses underneath the bough," and a bottle +of old claret for the friend who might chance to drop in. But as the +year wore on small signs began to appear that he who had always +"rather hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak" was beginning to +feel himself caged, though his bars were gilded. + +I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three +men-servants), and he told me that of a Sunday morning when the +household had gone to church and everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill +would go into the coach-house and light his pipe, and sit on the step +of the brougham (he had a brougham now), and gaze at the old cart, and +smoke and say nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He didn't like +it, the coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. + +One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was +wakened by a flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft +through the open window; the first magic suggestion of spring was +abroad, with its whispered hints of daffodils and budding hawthorns; +and one's blood danced to imagined pipings of Pan from happy fields +far distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a certain +foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as +possible. It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master +was missing. In the very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the +earliest under-housemaid had begun to set man-traps on the stairs and +along the passages, he must have quietly left the house. The servants +were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and thought the master must only +have "gone for a nice long walk," and so on, after the manner of +their kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. Sure +enough, the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the paddock. +It was no good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild haunter of +tracks and by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I kept my own +counsel. Fothergill never returned to Holly Lodge, and has been more +secret and evasive since his last flight, rarely venturing on old +camping grounds near home, like to a bird scared by the fowler's gun. + +Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry +known as the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens +of which I was tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; +hearing in an old village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart +who neither carried samples nor pushed the brewing interest by other +means than average personal consumption -- tales already beginning to +be distorted into material for the myth of the future. I found him +friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. As the evening wore +on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly Lodge; but his +air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had passed +out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even +tenor of his nomadic existence. + +After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he +might, with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; +certainly, I think, an artistic one. He had great powers, had any +impulse been present to urge him to execution and achievement. But he +was for none of these things. Contemplative, receptive, with a keen +sense of certain sub-tones and side aspects of life unseen by most, he +doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own way, and to gather from +the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor spend them in +toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. + + Some for the glories of this life, and some + Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come: + Ah, take the cash and let the credit go, + Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum. + +Justifiable Homicide + +This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; so he +cannot be said to ask too much who seeks for exact information as to +how a young man ought, in justice to himself and to society, to deal +with his relations. During his minority he has lain entirely at their +mercy: has been their butt, their martyr, their drudge, their corpus +vile. Possessing all the sinews of war, this stiff-necked tribe has +consistently refused to "part": even for the provision of those +luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its members have +crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral maxims, +and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively suspected at +the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, to be utterly +worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the tocsin has sounded +at last, and the Gaul is at the gate, they still appear to think that +the old condition of things is to go on; unconscious, apparently, of +atonement due, of retribution to be exacted, of wrongs to be avenged +and of insults to be wiped away! + +Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs +not, the artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for +relatives who neglect or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it +was who found himself compelled to reprove an uncle with an +unfortunate habit of squandering the family estate. An excellent +relative, this uncle, in all other respects. As a liar, he had few +equals; he robbed with taste and discretion; and his murders were all +imbued with true artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old +age of spotless respectability but for his one little failing. As it +was, justice had to be done, ruat clum: and so it came about that one +day the nephew issued forth to correct him with a matchlock. The +innocent old man was cultivating his paternal acres; so the nephew was +able, unperceived, to get a steady sight on him. His finger was on the +trigger, when suddenly there slipped into his mind the divine precept: +"Allah is merciful!" He lowered his piece, and remained for a little +plunged in thought; meanwhile the unconscious uncle hoed his paddy. +Then with a happy smile he took aim once more, for there also occurred +to him the precept equally divine: "But Allah is also just." With an +easy conscience he let fly, and behold! there was an uncle the more in +Paradise. + +It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that +constrained a recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for +leave of absence: in order to attend to family matters of importance. +The Colonel knew it was small use refusing the leave, as in that case +his recruit would promptly desert; so he could only ask, how long was +the transaction like to take? It was told him, after consideration, +that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a month would +meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he allowed +his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His +Colonel ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business +in question were satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: "I got him +from behind a rock." + +There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such +methods at home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these +free and happy sons of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are +left us still: averse from change, mistrustful of progress, sticking +steadily to the good old-fashioned dagger and bowl. I had a friend who +disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles were his special line -- +(he had suffered much from their tribe, having been early left an +orphan) -- though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when +he was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or +two. But it was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning +of his career) a large number of these connections, and pursuit of +them, from the mere sordid point of view of s. d., proved lucrative. +But he always protested (and I believed him) that gain with him was a +secondary consideration. It would hardly be in the public interest to +disclose his modus operandi. I shall only remark that he was one of +the first to realise the security and immunity afforded the artist by +the conditions of modern London. Hence it happened that he usually +practised in town, but spent his vacations at the country houses of +such relations as were still spared him, where he was always the life +and soul of the place. Unfortunately he is no longer with us, to +assist in the revision of this article: nor was it permitted me to +soothe his last moments. The presiding Sheriff was one of those +new-fangled officials who insist on the exclusion of the public, and +he declined to admit me either in the capacity of a personal +connection or, though I tried my hardest, as the representative of +"The National Observer." It only remains to be said of my much-tried +and still lamented friend, that he left few relatives to mourn his +untimely end. + +But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march +of Time, and my poor friend's Art (as himself in later years would +sorrowfully admit) is now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of +old, or "Robbia's craft so apt and strange"; while our thin-blooded +youth, too nice for the joyous old methods, are content to find +sweetest revenge in severely dropping their relations. This is indeed +a most effective position: it exasperates, while it is unassailable. +And yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. Not mere +forgiveness: it is simple duty to forgive -- even one's guardians. No +young man of earnest aspirations will be content to stop there. Nay: +lead them on, these lost ones, by the hand; conduct them "generously +and gently, and with linking of the arm"; educate them, eradicate +their false ideals, dispel their foolish prejudices; be to their +faults a little blind and to their virtues very kind: in fine, realise +that you have a mission -- that these wretches are not here for +nothing. The task will seem hard at first; but only those who have +tried can know how much may be done by assiduous and kindly effort +towards the chastening -- ay! the final redemption even! -- of the +most hopeless and pig-headed of uncles. + +The Fairy Wicket + +From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times historical, +all dotted with date and number and sign, how exquisite the relief in +turning to the dear days outside history -- yet not so very far off +neither for us nurslings of the northern sun -- when kindly beasts +would loiter to give counsel by the wayside, and a fortunate encounter +with one of the Good People was a surer path to Fortune and the Bride +than the best-worn stool that ever proved step-ladder to aspiring +youth. For then the Fairy Wicket stood everywhere ajar -- everywhere +and to each and all. "Open, open, green hill!" -- you needed no more +recondite sesame than that: and, whoever you were, you might have a +glimpse of the elfin dancers in the hall that is litten within by +neither sun nor moon; or catch at the white horse's bridle as the +Fairy Prince rode through. It has been closed now this many a year +(the fairies, always strong in the field, are excellent +wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, 'tis but for a moment's +mockery of the material generation that so deliberately turned its +back on the gap into Elf-Land -- that first stage to the Beyond. + +It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play +on a small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, +uncomfortable outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the +feathers whereinto he was wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the +arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove him to Nature for redress; and, +under an alien sky, he would go forth and wander along the iron road +by impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those hitherto a part of +him and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus loitering with +overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead -- that, sure, is +not all unfamiliar? That row of elms -- it cannot entirely be accident +that they range just so? And, if not accident, then round the bend +will come the old duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a +few yards on will be the gate -- it swings-to with its familiar click +-- the dogs race down the avenue -- and then -- and then! It is all +wildly fanciful; and yet, though knowing not Tertullian, a "credo +quia impossibile" is on his tongue as he quickens his pace -- for +what else can he do? A step, and the spell is shattered -- all is +cruel and alien once more; while every copse and hedge-row seems +a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter. The Fairies have had their joke: +they have opened the wicket one of their own hand's-breadths, and shut +it in their victim's face. When next that victim catches a fairy, he +purposes to tie up the brat in sight of his own green hill, and set +him to draw up a practical scheme for Village Councils. + +One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old +fashion, was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the +people: "I'd like to be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I'd like to +be a fairy, And wear short close!" And in later life it is to her sex +that the wee (but very wise) folk sometimes delegate their power of +torment. Such understudies are found to play the part exceeding well; +and many a time the infatuated youth believes he sees in the depth of +one sole pair of eyes -- blue, brown, or green (the fairy colour) -- +the authentic fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time must he hear the +quaint old formula, "I'm sure, if I've ever done anything to lead you +to think," etc (runs it not so?), ere he shall realise that here is +the gate upon no magic pleasance but on a cheap suburban villa, +banging behind the wrathful rate-collector or hurled open to speed the +pallid householder to the Registrar's Office. In still grosser +habitations, too, they lurk, do the People of Mischief, ready to +frolic out on the unsuspecting one: as in the case, which still haunts +my memory, of a certain bottle of an historic Chteau-Yquem, hued like +Venetian glass, odorous as a garden in June. Forth from out the faint +perfume of this haunted drink there danced a bevy from Old France, +clad in the fashion of Louis-Quinze, peach-coloured knots of ribbon +bedizening apple-green velvets, as they moved in stately wise among +the roses of the old garden, to the quaint music -- Rameau, was it? -- +of a fairy cornemuse, while fairy Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat +and painted them. Alas! too shallow the bottle, too brief the brawls: +not to be recalled by any quantity of Green Chartreuse. + +Aboard the Galley + +He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told me this +tale), when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange fleet, whose +like he had not before seen. For each little craft was a corpse, +stiffly "marlined," or bound about with tarred rope, as mariners do +use to treat plug tobacco: also ballasted, and with a fair mast and +sail stepped through his midriff. These self-sufficing ships knew no +divided authority: no pilot ever took the helm from the captain's +hands; no mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained of the +provisions. In a certain island to windward (the native pilot +explained) it was the practice, when a man died, to bury him for the +time being in dry, desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his +people, when the waiting bodies were brought out and, caulked and +rigged secumdum artem, were launched with the first fair breeze, the +admiral at their head, on their voyage to the Blessed Islands. And if +a chief should die, and the sand should hold no store of corpses for +his escort, this simple practical folk would solve the little +difficulty by knocking some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, +that the notable might voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant +little company, running before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, +all bound for the Isles of Light! 'Twas a sight to shame us sitters at +home, who believe in those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are +content to trundle City-wards or to Margate, so long as the sorry +breath is in us; and, breathless at last, to Bow or Kensal Green; +without one effort, dead or alive, to reach the far-shining +Hesperides. + +"Dans la galre, capitane, nous tions quatre-vingt rameurs!" sang +the oarsmen in the ballad; and they, though indeed they toiled on the +galley-bench, were free and happy pirates, members of an honoured and +liberal profession. But all we -- pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, +whatever our calling -- are but galley-slaves of the basest sort, +fettered to the oar each for his little spell. A common misery links +us all, like the chain that runs the length of the thwarts. Can +nothing make it worth our while not to quarrel with our fellows? The +menace of the storms is for each one and for all: the master's whip +has a fine impartiality. Crack! the lash that scored my comrade's back +has flicked my withers too; yet neither of us was shirking -- it was +that grinning ruffian in front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the +evasion shall be ours, while he writhes howling. But why do we never +once combine -- seize on the ship, fling our masters into the sea, and +steer for some pleasant isle far down under the Line, beyond the +still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho for feasting! Hey for tobacco and +free-quarters! But no: the days pass, and are reckoned up, and done +with; and ever more pressing cares engage. Those fellows on the +leeward benches are having an easier time than we poor dogs on the +weather side? Then, let us abuse, pelt, vilify then: let us steal +their grub, and have at them generally for a set of shirking, +malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they may be to +windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know this well, +the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we like them none +the worse for it. + +Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile +phrases in the honour of these whipmasters of ours -- as "omnes eodem +cogimur," and the rest; which is all very pretty and mighty +consoling. The fact is, the poets are the only people who score by the +present arrangement; which it is therefore their interest to maintain. +While we are doing all the work, these incorrigible skulkers lounge +about and make ribald remarks; they write Greek tragedies on Fate, on +the sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, and so on; and act in a +generally offensive way. And we are even weak enough to buy their +books; offer them drinks, peerages, and things; and say what +superlative fellows they are! But when the long-looked-for combination +comes, and we poor devils have risen and abolished fate, destiny, the +Olympian Council, early baldness, and the like, these poets will +really have to go. + +And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up +with our relations? True members of the "stupid party," who never +believe in us, who know (and never forget) the follies of our +adolescence; who are always wanting us not to do things; who are +lavish of advice, yet angered by the faintest suggestion of a small +advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish and these endure? No: +as soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to the sharks +with our relations! + +The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The +Sportsman of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over -- first, his +game, and then the miserable being he button-holes for the tedious +recital. Shall we suffer him longer? Who else? Who is that cowering +under the bulwarks yonder? The man who thinks he can imitate the +Scottish accent! Splash! And the next one? What a crowd is here! How +they block the hatchways, lumber the deck, and get between you and the +purser's room -- these fadmongers, teetotallers, missionaries of +divers isms! Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate Isles! +Then for tobacco in a hammock 'twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled +in a brooklet losing itself in silver sands! Then for -- but O these +bilboes on our ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun +blisters the bare back: faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to +flicker like Northern Lights across the stark and pitiless sky. One +earnest effort would do it, my brothers! A little modesty, a short +sinking of private differences; and then we should all be free and +equal gentlemen of fortune, and I would be your Captain! "Who? you? +you would make a pretty Captain!" Better than you, you scurvy, +skulking, little galley-slave! "Galley-slave yourself, and be --- +Pull together, boys, and lie low! Here's the Master coming with his +whip!" + +The Lost Centaur + +It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the great +volume of ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured from +babyhood by the wise and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence an +ideal of human skill and wisdom blent with all that was best and +noblest of animal instinct, strength and swiftness, found poor +humanity sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth among his +pottering little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto +fancied to be the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the +lords of earth even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: +below, shod with the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the +potentiality of the armed heel. Instead of which -- ! How fallen was +his first fair hope of the world! And even when reconciled at last to +the dynasty of the forked radish, after he had seen its quality tested +round the clangorous walls of Troy -- some touch of an imperial +disdain ever lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could +contentedly hail him -- him, who had known Cheiron! -- as hero and +lord! + +Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling +lingers. + +Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, +reaching back "through spaces out of space and timeless time," +somewhere joins us to the Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly +base. As we grow from our animal infancy, and the threads snap one by +one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul poising for flight into +Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every gain, we have some +forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we to "let +the ape and tiger die"; but the pleasant cousins dissembled in hide +and fur and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last vile folk, +indeed, exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly offend by +always carrying the Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their tails. +Others -- happily of less didactic dispositions -- there be; and it is +to these unaffected, careless companions that the sensible child is +wont to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, tame +creatures claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, while +cheerfully admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his +inferiority at every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected +earthwards, he essays to sniff it with the terrier who (as becomes the +nobler animal) is leading in the chase; and he is ready to weep as he +realises his loss. And the rest of the Free Company, -- the pony, the +cows, the great cart-horses, -- are ever shaming him by their +unboastful exercise of some enviable and unattainable attribute. Even +the friendly pig, who (did but parents permit) should eat of his bread +and drink of his cup, and be unto him as a brother, -- which among all +these unhappy bifurcations, so cheery, so unambitious, so purely +contented, so apt to be the guide, philosopher, and friend of boyhood +as he? What wonder that at times, when the neophyte in life begins to +realise that all these desirable accomplishments have had to be +surrendered one by one in the process of developing a Mind, the course +of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is wont -- not knowing the +extent of the kingdom to which he is heir -- to feel a little +discontented? + +Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is +already ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom +the submerged human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted moments. +He, the peevish and irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty +domesticities, is linked to us by little but his love of melody; but +for which saving grace, the hair would soon creep up from thigh to +horn of him. At times he will still do us a friendly turn: will lend a +helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own +salvation; will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon plain. +But in the main his sympathies are first for the beast: to which his +horns are never horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever natural and +familiar, and his voice (with its talk of help and healing) not harsh +nor dissonant, but voice of very brother as well as very god. + +And this declension -- for declension it is, though we achieve all the +confidences of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant argot +of the woods -- may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us of our +primal cousins to draw us down. On the other hand, let soul inform and +irradiate body as it may, the threads are utterly shorn asunder never: +nor is man, the complete, the self-contained, permitted to cut himself +wholly adrift from these his poor relations. The mute and stunted +human embryo that gazes appealingly from out the depths of their eyes +must ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) closer. Nay, at +times, it must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As thus: "Was it +really necessary, after all, that we two should part company so early? +May you not have taken a wrong turning somewhere, in your long race +after your so-called progress, after the perfection of this be-lauded +species of yours? A turning whose due avoidance might perhaps have +resulted in no such lamentable cleavage as is here, but in some +perfect embodiment of the dual nature: as who should say a being with +the nobilities of both of us, the basenesses of neither? So might you, +more fortunately guided, have been led at last up the green sides of +Pelion, to the ancestral, the primeval, Centaur still waiting majestic +on the summit!" It is even so. Perhaps this thing might once have +been, O cousin outcast and estranged! But the opportunity was long +since lost. Henceforth, two ways for us for ever! + +Orion + +The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is steely-clear. High and +dominant amidst the Populations of the Sky, the restless and the +steadfast alike, hangs the great Plough, lit with a hard radiance as +of the polished and shining share. And yonder, low on the horizon, but +half resurgent as yet, crouches the magnificent hunter: watchful, +seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of menace in his port. + +Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has +passed since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing +forest and draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and +Sunday schools, with the chains that are forged of peace, the irking +fetters of plenty: driving also the whole lot of us, these to sweat at +its tail, those to plod with the patient team, but all to march in a +great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order and law: while the +happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his pleasing +nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children +of the Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in +right case to forget that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon +withal. Where, then, does he hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, here, +my brother, and here; deep in the breasts of each and all of us! And +for this drop of primal quicksilver in the blood what poppy or +mandragora shall purge it hence away? + +Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith +they brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against +accepted maxims and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of +course, this fitful stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a +natural craving for a seat on a high stool, for the inscription -- now +horizontal, and now vertical -- of figures, is sin. But the deskmen +command a temporary majority: for the short while they shall hold the +cards they have the right to call the game. And so -- since we must +bow to the storm -- let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other +Salvation -- for a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a +matter of nomenclature. What we have now first to note is that this +original Waft from the Garden asserts itself most vigorously in the +Child. This it is that thrusts the small boy out under the naked +heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an islet in the +duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after the +gipsy's van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to +the pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the +tingling blood of her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides +along that shining highway to the dim land east o' the sun and west o' +the moon: where freedom is, and you can wander and breathe, and at +night tame street lamps there are none -- only the hunter's fires, and +the eyes of lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years it is +stifled and gagged -- buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and +on its heart a stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up +and out when 'tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief +summers gone, who was missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a +goodly portly man, i' faith: and had a villa and a steam launch at +Surbiton: and was versed in the esoteric humours of the House. Who +could have thought that the Hunter lay hid in him? Yet, after many +weeks, they found him in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, sun-burnt, +the nocturnal haystack calling aloud from his frayed and +weather-stained duds, his trousers tucked, he was tickling trout with +godless native urchins; and when they would have won him to himself +with honied whispers of American Rails, he answered but with babble of +green fields. He is back in his wonted corner now: quite cured, +apparently, and tractable. And yet -- let the sun shine too wantonly +in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, quick with the warm +South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to the station; and +will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, truly: and next +time he will not be caught. + +Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have +hushed the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have "come tripping +doon the stair," rapt by the climbing passion from their +strawberry-leaved surroundings into starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, +too -- the douce, respectable mediocrities that we are -- which of us +but might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are mercifully +unknown to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What +marvel that up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one +in his ken, the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast +and gone forth on its irresistible appeal! + +Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes +of the horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate suburbs +creep ever farther into the retreating fields; and when you reach the +windy moorland, lo! it is all staked out into building-lots. Mud is +muddier now than heretofore; and ruts are ruttier. And what friendless +old beast comes limping down the dreary lane? He seems sorely shrunk +and shoulder-shotten; but by the something of divinity in his look, +still more than by the wings despondent along his mighty sides, 'tis +ever the old Pegasus -- not yet the knacker's own. "Hard times I've +been having," he murmurs, as you rub his nose. "These fellows have +really no seat except for a park hack. As for this laurel, we were +wont to await it trembling: and in taking it we were afraid. Your +English way of hunting it down with yelpings and hallooings -- well, I +may be out of date, but we wouldn't have stood that sort of thing on +Helicon." So he hobbles down the road. Good night, old fellow! Out of +date? Well, it may be so. And alas! the blame is ours. + +But for the Hunter -- there he rises -- couchant no more. Nay, flung +full stretch on the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his +turn, then, really come at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal +ruin, all levelling, whelming the County Councillor with the +Music-hall artiste, obliterating the very furrows of the Plough, shall +the skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more loose the +whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet -- look up! Look +up and behold him confident, erect, majestic -- there on the threshold +of the sky! + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Papers, by Kenneth Grahame + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + +***** This file should be named 5319-8.txt or 5319-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/5319/ + +Produced by William McClain + +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: + + 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/old/5319-8.zip b/old/5319-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..adebc79 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5319-8.zip diff --git a/old/5319.txt b/old/5319.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..00df93c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5319.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2290 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Papers, by Kenneth Grahame + +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: Pagan Papers + +Author: Kenneth Grahame + +Posting Date: March 20, 2014 [EBook #5319] +Release Date: March, 2004 +First Posted: June 30, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + + + + +Produced by William McClain + + + + + + + + + +Pagan Papers was first published in 1893 and the text is in the public +domain. This is a reprint of the first American edition of 1898. The +transcription was done by William McClain <info@sattre-press.com>, +2002. + +A printed version of this book is available from Sattre Press, +http://pagan_papers.sattre-press.com/. It includes a glossary of +French and Latin phrases. + + + + +PAGAN PAPERS + +by Kenneth Grahame + + + +The Romance of the Road + +Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and his company +during the progress of their famous voyage, few surpass that island +whose roads did literally "go" to places -- "ou les chemins +cheminent, comme animaulx": and would-be travellers, having inquired +of the road as to its destination, and received satisfactory reply, +"se guindans" (as the old book hath it -- hoisting themselves up on) +"au chemin opportun, sans aultrement se poiner ou fatiguer, se +trouvoyent au lieu destine." + +The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of +vitality in roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join +it at Streatley, the point where it crosses the Thames; at once it +strikes you out and away from the habitable world in a splendid, +purposeful manner, running along the highest ridge of the Downs a +broad green ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference from the +neighbouring grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor +homesteads tempt it aside or modify its course for a yard; should you +lose the track where it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in +and obliterated by criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight +on, taking heed of no alternative to right or left; and in a minute +'tis with you again -- arisen out of the earth as it were. Or, if +still not quite assured, lift you your eyes, and there it runs over +the brow of the fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, it +disappears indeed -- hiding Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble +and brick-work; but a little way on it takes up the running again with +the same quiet persistence. Out on that almost trackless expanse of +billowy Downs such a track is in some sort humanly companionable: it +really seems to lead you by the hand. + +The "Rudge" is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this +pleasant personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a +characteristic of the old country road, evolved out of the primitive +prehistoric track, developing according to the needs of the land it +passes through and serves: with a language, accordingly, and a meaning +of its own. Its special services are often told clearly enough; but +much else too of the quiet story of the country-side: something of the +old tale whereof you learn so little from the printed page. Each is +instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are martial and +historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town -- with its Roman or Saxon suffix +to British root -- hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his vates +sacer, passed silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The little +rise up yonder on the Downs that breaks their straight green line +against the sky showed another sight when the sea of battle surged and +beat on its trampled sides; and the Roman, sore beset, may have gazed +down this very road for relief, praying for night or the succouring +legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at you from under +her sun-bonnet -- so may some girl-ancestress of hers have watched +with beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with the +heathen and break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And +yonder, where the road swings round under gloomy overgrowth of +drooping boughs -- is that gleam of water or glitter of lurking +spears? + +Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty +hedges overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and +beast, living in frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable +lessons each of the other; over the full-fed river, lipping the +meadow-sweet, and thence on either side through leagues of hay. Or +through bending corn they chant the mystical wonderful song of the +reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most of them, +avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley +by gentle ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of +keen fragrance in the air, by some mystery of added softness under +foot -- ever a promise of something to come, unguessed, delighting. +Till suddenly you are among the pines, their keen scent strikes you +through and through, their needles carpet the ground, and in their +swaying tops moans the unappeasable wind -- sad, ceaseless, as the cry +of a warped humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is fulfilled, +the hints and whisperings become fruition: the ground breaks steeply +away, and you look over a great inland sea of fields, homesteads, +rolling woodland, and -- bounding all, blent with the horizon, a +greyness, a gleam -- the English Channel. A road of promises, of +hinted surprises, following each other with the inevitable sequence in +a melody. + +But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of chemins qui +cheminent: dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, +veritably se guindans, may reach his destination "sans se poiner ou +se fatiguer" (with large qualifications); but sans very much else +whereof he were none the worse. The gain seems so obvious that you +forget to miss all that lay between the springing stride of the early +start and the pleasant weariness of the end approached, when the limbs +lag a little as the lights of your destination begin to glimmer +through the dusk. All that lay between! "A Day's Ride a Life's +Romance" was the excellent title of an unsuccessful book; and indeed +the journey should march with the day, beginning and ending with its +sun, to be the complete thing, the golden round, required of it. This +makes that mind and body fare together, hand in hand, sharing the +hope, the action, the fruition; finding equal sweetness in the languor +of aching limbs at eve and in the first god-like intoxication of +motion with braced muscle in the sun. For walk or ride take the mind +over greater distances than a throbbing whirl with stiffening joints +and cramped limbs through a dozen counties. Surely you seem to cover +vaster spaces with Lavengro, footing it with gipsies or driving his +tinker's cart across lonely commons, than with many a globe-trotter or +steam-yachtsman with diary or log? And even that dividing line -- +strictly marked and rarely overstepped -- between the man who bicycles +and the man who walks, is less due to a prudent regard for personal +safety of the one part than to an essential difference in minds. + +There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed +be experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a +Turkish bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only +felt at its fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open +air. "A man ought to be seen by the gods," says Marcus Aurelius, +"neither dissatisfied with anything, nor complaining." Though this +does not sound at first hearing an excessive demand to make of +humanity, yet the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such a sight +in these unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, 'tis when after +many a mile in sun and wind -- maybe rain -- you reach at last, with +the folding star, your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, +comfortable strangeness, after unnumbered chops with country ale, the +hard facts of life begin to swim in a golden mist. You are isled from +accustomed cares and worries -- you are set in a peculiar nook of +rest. Then old failures seem partial successes, then old loves come +back in their fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of +regret, then old jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing +of the gods above, nothing of men below -- not even their company. +To-morrow you shall begin life again: shall write your book, make your +fortune, do anything; meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings +round, and you seem to hear it circle to the music of the spheres. +What pipe was ever thus beatifying in effect? You are aching all over, +and enjoying it; and the scent of the limes drifts in through the +window. This is undoubtedly the best and greatest country in the +world; and none but good fellows abide in it. + + Laud we the Gods, + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our blest altars. + +The Romance of the Rail + +In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that +is wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of +the steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no +longer begins to work at the point where vision ceases. In happier +times, three hundred years ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked +out from the prows of their vessels in the grey of the morning, and +wot not rightly whether the land they saw might be Jerusalem or +Madagascar, or if it were not North and South America. "And there be +certaine flitting islands," says one, "which have been oftentimes +seene, and when men approached near them they vanished." "It may be +that the gulfs will wash us down," said Ulysses (thinking of what +Americans call the "getting-off place"); "it may be we shall touch +the Happy Isles." And so on, and so on; each with his special hope or +"wild surmise." There was always a chance of touching the Happy +Isles. And in that first fair world whose men and manners we knew +through story-books, before experience taught us far other, the Prince +mounts his horse one fine morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a +forest; and next morning, lo! a new country: and he rides by fields +and granges never visited before, through faces strange to him, to +where an unknown King steps down to welcome the mysterious stranger. +And he marries the Princess, and dwells content for many a year; till +one day he thinks "I will look upon my father's face again, though +the leagues be long to my own land." And he rides all day, and sleeps +in a forest; and next morning he is made welcome at home, where his +name has become a dim memory. Which is all as it should be; for, +annihilate time and space as you may, a man's stride remains the true +standard of distance; an eternal and unalterable scale. The severe +horizon, too, repels the thoughts as you gaze to the infinite +considerations that lie about, within touch and hail; and the night +cometh, when no man can work. + +To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now +and again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where +iron has superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull +as the measured beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them +is now a matter of effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our +ordinary course; they are no longer unsought influences towards the +making of character. So perhaps the time of them has gone by, here in +this second generation of steam. Pereunt et imputantur; they pass +away, and are scored against not us but our guilty fathers. For +ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The romance of +the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed -- not fully nor +worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though Emerson +for one will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its right to +immediate recognition as poetic material. "For as it is dislocation +and detachment from the life of God that makes things ugly, the poet, +who re-attaches things to Nature and the whole -- re-attaching even +artificial things and violations of Nature to Nature by a deeper +insight -- disposes very easily of the most disagreeable facts"; so +that he looks upon "the factory village and the railway" and "sees +them fall within the great Order not less than the bee-hive or the +spider's geometrical web." The poet, however, seems hard to convince +hereof. Emerson will have it that "Nature loves the gliding train of +cars"; "instead of which" the poet still goes about the country +singing purling brooks. Painters have been more flexible and liberal. +Turner saw and did his best to seize the spirit of the thing, its +kinship with the elements, and to blend furnace-glare and rush of iron +with the storm-shower, the wind and the thwart-flashing sun-rays, and +to make the whole a single expression of irresoluble force. And even +in a certain work by another and a very different painter -- though I +willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate romantic intention -- you +shall find the element of romance in the vestiges of the old order +still lingering in the first transition period: the coach-shaped +railway carriages with luggage piled and corded on top, the red-coated +guard, the little engine tethered well ahead as if between traces. To +those bred within sight of the sea, steamers will always partake in +somewhat of the "beauty and mystery of the ships"; above all, if +their happy childhood have lain among the gleaming lochs and sinuous +firths of the Western Highlands, where, twice a week maybe, the +strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a piece of the busy, +mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand alone in owning +to a sentimental weakness for the night-piercing whistle -- +judiciously remote, as some men love the skirl of the pipes. In the +days when streets were less wearily familiar than now, or ever the +golden cord was quite loosed that led back to relinquished fields and +wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer nights, thinking of +luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the whistles +from certain railway stations, veritable "horns of Elf-land, faintly +blowing." Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a +phantom train, and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the +journey bit by bit: through the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the +grey glimmer of dawn showed stone walls in place of hedges, and masses +looming up on either side; till the bright sun shone upon brown +leaping streams and purple heather, and the clear, sharp northern air +streamed in through the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; +Endymion-like, "my first touch of the earth went nigh to kill": but +it was only to hurry northwards again on the wings of imagination, +from dust and heat to the dear mountain air. "We are only the +children who might have been," murmured Lamb's dream babes to him; +and for the sake of those dream-journeys, the journeys that might have +been, I still hail with a certain affection the call of the engine in +the night: even as I love sometimes to turn the enchanted pages of the +railway a b c, and pass from one to the other name reminiscent or +suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian maybe, or savouring of Wessex, +or bearing me away to some sequestered reach of the quiet Thames. + +Non Libri Sed Liberi + +It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. +That it is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always +fails to find him thus engaged. He will talk about them -- all night +if you let him -- wave his hand to them, shake his fist at them, shed +tears over them (in the small hours of the morning); but he will not +read them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys his books +without a remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers +start with the honest resolution that some day they will "shut down +on" this fatal practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter +into their charmed circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind +them. Then will they read out of nothing but first editions; every day +shall be a debauch in large paper and tall copies; and crushed morocco +shall be familiar to their touch as buckram. Meanwhile, though, books +continue to flaunt their venal charms; it would be cowardice to shun +the fray. In fine, one buys and continues to buy; and the promised +Sabbath never comes. + +The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein +resembling the familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the +first sight of the Object, accompanied of a catching of the breath, a +trembling in the limbs, loss of appetite, ungovernable desire, and a +habit of melancholy in secret places. But once possessed, once toyed +with amorously for an hour or two, the Object (as in the inferior +passion aforesaid) takes its destined place on the shelf -- where it +stays. And this saith the scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail +to remark with a certain awe that the owner goeth thereafter as one +possessing a happy secret and radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is +insufferably conceited, and his conceit waxeth as his coat, now +condemned to a fresh term of servitude, groweth shabbier. And shabby +though his coat may be, yet will he never stoop to renew its pristine +youth and gloss by the price of any book. No man -- no human, +masculine, natural man -- ever sells a book. Men have been known in +moments of thoughtlessness, or compelled by temporary necessity, to +rob, to equivocate, to do murder, to commit what they should not, to +"wince and relent and refrain" from what they should: these things, +howbeit regrettable, are common to humanity, and may happen to any of +us. But amateur bookselling is foul and unnatural; and it is +noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, contains no +distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly known to +exist: the face of the public being set against it as a flint -- and +the trade giving such wretched prices. + +In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the +reflection that this particular purchase will be a good investment, +sordidly considered: that you are not squandering income but sinking +capital. But you know all the time that you are lying. Once possessed, +books develop a personality: they take on a touch of warm human life +that links them in a manner with our kith and kin. Non angli sed +Angeli was the comment of a missionary (old style) on the small human +duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many a +buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his +possession, must have felt that here was something vendible no more. +So of these you may well affirm Non libri sed liberi; children now, +adopted into the circle, they shall be trafficked in never again. + +There is one exception which has sadly to be made -- one class of men, +of whom I would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are +strangers to any such scruples. These be Executors -- a word to be +strongly accented on the penultimate; for, indeed, they are the common +headsmen of collections, and most of all do whet their bloody edge for +harmless books. Hoary, famous old collections, budding young +collections, fair virgin collections of a single author -- all go down +before the executor's remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth +not. "The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy," and it +is chiefly by the hand of the executor that she doth love to scatter +it. May oblivion be his portion for ever! + +Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most +insidious, because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is +the bookbinder. Not in that he bindeth books -- for the fair binding +is the final crown and flower of painful achievement -- but because he +bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse by and turn to months, and +the months to years, and still the binder bindeth not: and the heart +grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds her hair, +each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and +stream, and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice +whispereth: "Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, full of +bread, with all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At gaming, +swearing, or about some act That hath no relish of salvation in it!" +But when the deed is done, and the floor strewn with fragments of +binder -- still the books remain unbound. You have made all that +horrid mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden over +again. As a general rule, the man in the habit of murdering +bookbinders, though he performs a distinct service to society, only +wastes his own time and takes no personal advantage. + +And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in +leathern surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet +weathered the Cape and sailed into halcyon seas. For these books -- +well, you kept them many weeks before binding them, that the +oleaginous printer's-ink might fully dry before the necessary +hammering; you forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder +might refold the sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over -- +consummatum est -- still you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a +quiet mind. For these purple emperors are not to be read in bed, nor +during meals, nor on the grass with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief +periods are all the whirling times allow you for solid serious +reading. Still, after all, you have them; you can at least pulverise +your friends with the sight; and what have they to show against them? +Probably some miserable score or so of half-bindings, such as lead you +scornfully to quote the hackneyed couplet concerning the poor Indian +whose untutored mind clothes him before but leaves him bare behind. +Let us thank the gods that such things are: that to some of us they +give not poverty nor riches but a few good books in whole bindings. +Dowered with these and (if it be vouchsafed) a cup of Burgundy that is +sound even if it be not old, we can leave to others the foaming grape +of Eastern France that was vintaged in '74, and with it the whole +range of shilling shockers, -- the Barmecidal feast of the purposeful +novelist -- yea, even the countless series that tell of Eminent Women +and Successful Men. + +Loafing + +When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when Autumn +has been carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good fellows +who look upon holidays as a chief end of life return from moor and +stream and begin to take stock of gains and losses. And the wisest, +realising that the time of action is over while that of reminiscence +has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant with greater pleasures +than the other -- that action, indeed, is only the means to an end of +reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the Loafer stands apart +supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher as to the end, goes +straight to it at once; and his happy summer has accordingly been +spent in those subjective pleasures of the mind whereof the others, +the men of muscle and peeled faces, are only just beginning to taste. + +And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the +Loafer does not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they +are very necessary to him. For "Suave mari magno" is the motto of +your true Loafer; and it is chiefly by keeping ever in view the +struggles and the clamorous jostlings of the unenlightened making +holiday that he is able to realise the bliss of his own condition and +maintain his self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he never +very far away from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, +but hovers more or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star +amidst whirling constellations, he may watch the mad world "glance, +and nod, and hurry by." + +There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of +Scotland. Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its +tranquil "lucid interval" between steamers, the ever recurrent throb +of paddle-wheel, the rush and foam of beaten water among the piles, +splash of ropes and rumble of gangways, and all the attendant hurry +and scurry of the human morrice. Here, tanquam in speculo, the Loafer +as he lounges may, by attorney as it were, touch gently every stop in +the great organ of the emotions of mortality. Rapture of meeting, +departing woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, indifference -- +he may experience them all, but attenuated and as if he saw them in a +dream; as if, indeed, he were Heine's god in dream on a mountain-side. +Let the drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, emanations of his +dream, will vanish into the nothing whence they came. And these +emotions may be renewed each morning; if a fair one sail to-day, be +sure that one as fair will land to-morrow. The supply is +inexhaustible. + +But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of +Father Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with +its blisters, perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the +bliss of "quietism." I know one little village in the upper reaches +where loafing may be pushed to high perfection. Here the early hours +of the morning are vexed by the voices of boaters making their way +down the little street to the river. The most of them go staggering +under hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their voices are +clamant of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they will punt, +they will paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the Loafer +hears through the open door of his cottage, where in his shirt-sleeves +he is dallying with his bacon, as a gentleman should. He is the only +one who has had a comfortable breakfast -- and he knows it. Later he +will issue forth and stroll down in their track to the bridge. The +last of these Argonauts is pulling lustily forth; the river is dotted +with evanishing blazers. Upon all these lunatics a pitiless Phoebus +shines triumphant. The Loafer sees the last of them off the stage, +turns his back on it, and seeks the shady side of the street. + +A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed +away with shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of +somnolency is in evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, +let him respectfully greet each several village dog. Arcades ambo -- +loafers likewise -- they lie there in the warm dust, each outside his +own door, ready to return the smallest courtesy. Their own lords and +masters are not given to the exchange of compliments nor to greetings +in the market-place. The dog is generally the better gentleman, and he +is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, who is not too +proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the time of day. He +will mark his sense of this attention by rising from his dust-divan +and accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But he will stop +short of his neighbour's dust-patch; for the morning is really too hot +for a shindy. So, by easy stages (the street is not a long one: six +dogs will see it out), the Loafer quits the village; and now the world +is before him. Shall he sit on a gate and smoke? or lie on the grass +and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large along the road? Such a +choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last course is the +best -- as needing the least mental effort of selection. Hardly, +however, has he fairly started his first daydream when the snappish +"ting" of a bellkin recalls him to realities. By comes the +bicyclist: dusty, sweating, a piteous thing to look upon. But the +irritation of the strepitant metal has jarred the Loafer's always +exquisite nerves: he is fain to climb a gate and make his way towards +solitude and the breezy downs. + +Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is +alone with the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of +larks and a tinkling from distant flocks break the brooding noonday +stillness; above, the wind-hover hangs motionless, a black dot on the +blue. Prone on his back on the springy turf, gazing up into the sky, +his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the spirit ranges at +will among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. Earth +no longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still "spins like a fretful midge." The Loafer +knows not nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through golden +spaces of imagination his soul is winging her untrammelled flight. And +there he really might remain for ever, but that his vagrom spirit is +called back to earth by a gentle but resistless, very human summons, +-- a gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, thirst: a thirst to +thank Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, half of anticipation, +he bends his solitary steps towards the nearest inn. Tobacco for one +is good; to commune with oneself and be still is truest wisdom; but +beer is a thing of deity -- beer is divine. + +Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle +out he will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush +and the meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets +of even. The loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant +moan of the weir; his are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, +of the sunset-haunted surface. By-and-by the boaters will pass him +homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: his withers are unwrung. +Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset glories; no corporeal +pangs clog his aesthesis -- his perceptive faculty. Some have +quarrelled in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; he is at +peace with himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay them down +in the little village that night, his sleep will be the surest and the +sweetest. For not even the blacksmith himself will have better claim +to have earned a night's repose. + +Cheap Knowledge + +When at times it happens to me that I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, +and to find the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core -- just +because, perhaps, I can't afford Melampus Brown's last volume of poems +in large paper, but must perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny +edition for the million -- then I bring myself to a right temper by +recalling to memory a sight which now and again in old days would +touch the heart of me to a happier pulsation. In the long, dark winter +evenings, outside some shop window whose gaslight flared brightest +into the chilly street, I would see some lad -- sometimes even a girl +-- book in hand, heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and +straining eyes, careless of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil +behind them and about, their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: +till the ruthless shopman turned out the gas and brought them rudely +back to the bitter reality of cramped legs and numbed fingers. "My +brother!" or "My sister!" I would cry inwardly, feeling the link +that bound us together. They possessed, for the hour, the two gifts +most precious to the student -- light and solitude: the true solitude +of the roaring street. + +Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries +have supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can +enter and call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon "in luxury's +sofa-lap of leather"; and of course this boon is appreciated and +profited by, and we shall see the divine results in a year or two. And +yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the "Red Lamp," "I +wonder?" + +For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely +wastes and dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the +feeling of restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these +other readers, "all silent and all damned," combine to set up a +nervous irritation fatal to quiet study. Had I to choose, I would +prefer the windy street. And possibly others have found that the +removal of checks and obstacles makes the path which leads to the +divine mountain-tops less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So +full of human nature are we all -- still -- despite the Radical +missionaries that labour in the vineyard. Before the National Gallery +was extended and rearranged, there was a little "St Catherine" by +Pinturicchio that possessed my undivided affections. In those days she +hung near the floor, so that those who would worship must grovel; and +little I grudged it. Whenever I found myself near Trafalgar Square +with five minutes to spare I used to turn in and sit on the floor +before the object of my love, till gently but firmly replaced on my +legs by the attendant. She hangs on the line now, in the grand new +room; but I never go to see her. Somehow she is not my "St +Catherine" of old. Doubtless Free Libraries affect many students in +the same way: on the same principle as that now generally accepted -- +that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our social code which +make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. + +But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, +it remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or +two of Free Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world +most desiderates; and whether the spare reading and consequent fertile +thinking necessitated by the old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive +of sounder results. The cloyed and congested mind resulting from the +free run of these grocers' shops to omnivorous appetites (and all +young readers are omnivorous) bids fair to produce a race of literary +resurrection-men: a result from which we may well pray to be spared. +Of all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits the original +work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary +expression by pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer's boy of +letters is sure to prove a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be +fulfilling the programme of its advocates, is breeding such as he by +scores. + +But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation +may be drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would +appear that the patrons of these libraries are confining their +reading, with a charming unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed +they cannot do better; there is no more blessed thing on earth than a +good novel, not the least merit of which is that it induces a state of +passive, unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies the reader to go +out and put the world right. Next to fairy tales -- the original +world-fiction -- our modern novels may be ranked as our most precious +possessions; and so it has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully +pay my five shillings, or ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly +be, in the pound towards the Free Library: convinced at last that the +money is not wasted in training exponents of the subjectivity of this +writer and the objectivity of that, nor in developing fresh imitators +of dead discredited styles, but is righteously devoted to the support +of wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. + +The Rural Pan + +An April Essay + +Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside the +restless Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little +hoarse from bidding in the market. Further west, down classic +Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the lord of the unerring (satin) +bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in these latter years +float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts than these +the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that reaches +only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins +to blow a clearer note. + +When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities +will abroad too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this +that flieth up the reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the +day? Mercury is out -- some dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed +banks crumble and slide down under the wash of his rampant screw; his +wake is marked by a line of lobster-claws, gold-necked bottles, and +fragments of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may even be seen to +embrace the slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, in the +full gaze of the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime +reposeth, passively beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards' Club at +Maidenhead. Here, O Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity +subjectively inclined, he is neither objective nor, it must be said +for him, at all objectionable, like them of Mercury. + +Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural +Pan. In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may be +paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked +for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment. Or under the great +shadow of Streatley Hill, "annihilating all that's made to a green +thought in a green shade"; or better yet, pushing an explorer's prow +up the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester's stately roof broods +over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these Pan sits and +dabbles, and all the air is full of the music of his piping. +Southwards, again, on the pleasant Surrey downs there is shouting and +jostling; dust that is drouthy and language that is sultry. Thither +comes the young Apollo, calmly confident as ever; and he meeteth +certain Mercuries of the baser sort, who do him obeisance, call him +captain and lord, and then proceed to skin him from head to foot as +thoroughly as the god himself flayed Marsyas in days of yore, at a +certain Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good instance of Time's revenges. +And yet Apollo returns to town and swears he has had a grand day. He +does so every year. Out of hearing of all the clamour, the rural Pan +may be found stretched on Ranmore Common, loitering under Abinger +pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the sinuous Mole, abounding +in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers the dab-chick and +water-rat. + +For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour +with a society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant +combination of Metropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will urge +the horses of the Sun: and, if he leaveth the society weekly to +Mercury, yet he loveth well the Magazine. From which omphalos or hub +of the universe he will direct his shining team even to the far +Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron road and level highway +are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot it along the +sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with +feather and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is +unsocial. Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities, +he loveth the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are +adscripti glebae, addicted to the kindly soil and to the working +thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For he is +only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is strong. When +the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, among +the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to appear at +times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten +shepherd from the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy he will then +impart, in the musical Wessex or Mercian he has learned to speak so +naturally; though it may not be till many a mile away that you begin +to suspect that you have unwittingly talked with him who chased the +flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of fight at Marathon. + +Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through -- east +and west, north and south -- bringing with it Commercialism, whose god +is Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams +with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and +chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part +is still spared -- how great these others fortunately do not know -- +in which the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet +a little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last +common, spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the +well-wisher to man -- whither? + +Marginalia + +American Hunt, in his suggestive "Talks about Art," demands that the +child shall be encouraged -- or rather permitted, for the natural +child needs little encouragement -- to draw when- and whereon-soever +he can; for, says he, the child's scribbling on the margin of his +school-books is really worth more to him than all he gets out of them, +and indeed, "to him the margin is the best part of all books, and he +finds in it the soothing influence of a clear sky in a landscape." +Doubtless Sir Benjamin Backbite, though his was not an artist soul, +had some dim feeling of this mighty truth when he spoke of that new +quarto of his, in which "a neat rivulet of text shall meander through +a meadow of margin": boldly granting the margin to be of superior +importance to the print. This metaphor is pleasantly expanded in +Burton's "Bookhunter": wherein you read of certain folios with +"their majestic stream of central print overflowing into rivulets of +marginal notes, sedgy with citations." But the good Doctor leaves the +main stream for a backwater of error in inferring that the chief use +of margins is to be a parading-ground for notes and citations. As if +they had not absolute value in themselves, nor served a finer end! In +truth, Hunt's child was vastly the wiser man. + +For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and +illustrate the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or "tail" edge, +the saurian, splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of old +Nile; up one side negroes, swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn +them, let fall their nerveless spears; up the other, monkeys, +gibbering with terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees -- a plant to the +untutored hand of easier outline than (say) your British oak. +Meanwhile, all over the unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the most +inadequate provocation, or Hannibal pursued his victorious career, +while Roman generals delivered ornate set speeches prior to receiving +the usual satisfactory licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal -- all alike were +pallid shades with faint, thin voices powerless to pierce the +distance. The margins of Cocytus doubtless knew them: mine were +dedicated to the more attractive flesh and blood of animal life, the +varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, in more practical mood, I +would stoop to render certain facts recorded in the text. To these +digressions I probably owe what little education I possess. For +example, there was one sentence in our Roman history: "By this single +battle of Magnesia, Antiochus the Great lost all his conquests in Asia +Minor." Serious historians really should not thus forget themselves. +'Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, to transform "battle" into +"bottle"; for "conquests" one could substitute a word for which +not even Macaulay's school-boy were at a loss; and the result, +depicted with rude vigour in his margin, fixed the name of at least +one ancient fight on the illustrator's memory. But this plodding and +material art had small charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a +"clear sky" ever through which I could sail away at will to more +gracious worlds. I was duly qualified by a painfully acquired +ignorance of dead languages cautiously to approach my own; and 'twas +no better. Along Milton's margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the +Arimaspian -- what a chance, that Arimaspian, for the imaginative +pencil! And so it has come about that, while Milton periods are mostly +effaced from memory by the sponge of Time, I can still see that +vengeful Gryphon, cousin-german to the gentle beast that danced the +Lobster Quadrille by a certain shore. + +It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins +is for pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and +crosses, nor (in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled +against the canticle for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent +pew: as used, alas! to happen in days when one was young and godless, +and went to church. Nor, again, are the margins of certain poets +entrusted to man for the composing thereon of infinitely superior +rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a depraved habit, +akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is the +absolute value of the margin itself -- a value frequently superior to +its enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and +takes care to get it in "the little verses wot they puts inside the +crackers." The special popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to +epic verse is due to this habit of feeling. A good example maybe found +in the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is the better poetry, the +earlier remains the more popular -- because of its eloquence of +margin. Mr Tupper might long ago have sat with laureate brow but for +his neglect of this first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic +of the century, is pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full +meed of glory it deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote +"Beowulf," our other English epic, grasped the great fact from the +first, so that his work is much the more popular of the two. The moral +is evident. An authority on practical book-making has stated that +"margin is a matter to be studied"; also that "to place the print +in the centre of the paper is wrong in principle, and to be +deprecated." Now, if it be "wrong in principle," let us push that +principle to its legitimate conclusion, and "deprecate" the placing +of print on any part of the paper at all. Without actually suggesting +this course to any of our living bards, when, I may ask -- when shall +that true poet arise who, disdaining the trivialities of text, shall +give the world a book of verse consisting entirely of margin? How we +shall shove and jostle for large paper copies! + +The Eternal Whither + +There was once an old cashier in some ancient City establishment, +whose practice was to spend his yearly holiday in relieving some +turnpike-man at his post, and performing all the duties appertaining +thereunto. This was vulgarly taken to be an instance of mere +mill-horse enslavement to his groove -- the reception of payments; and +it was spoken of both in mockery of all mill-horses and for the due +admonishment of others. And yet that clerk had discovered for himself +an unique method of seeing Life at its best, the flowing, hurrying, +travelling, marketing Life of the Highway; the life of bagman and +cart, of tinker, and pig-dealer, and all cheery creatures that drink +and chaffer together in the sun. He belonged, above all, to the scanty +class of clear-seeing persons who know both what they are good for and +what they really want. To know what you would like to do is one thing; +to go out boldly and do it is another -- and a rarer; and the sterile +fields about Hell-Gate are strewn with the corpses of those who would +an if they could. + +To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one's soul, +it is possible to push one's disregard for convention too far: as is +seen in the case of another, though of an earlier generation, in the +same establishment. In his office there was the customary +"attendance-book," wherein the clerks were expected to sign each +day. Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from appearing; he +signs, indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little later, +writ in careful commercial hand, this entry: "Mr --- did not attend +at his office to-day, having been hanged at eight o'clock in the +morning for horse-stealing." Through the faded ink of this record do +you not seem to catch, across the gulf of years, some waft of the +jolly humanity which breathed in this prince among clerks? A formal +precisian, doubtless, during business hours; but with just this honest +love of horseflesh lurking deep down there in him -- unsuspected, +sweetening the whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from his +desk, turning to pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still +striveth to bury his bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, +you may be sure, but from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the +same, he erred; erred, if not in taste, at least in judgment: for we +cannot entirely acquit him of blame for letting himself be caught. + +In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our +melancholy selves are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, +whereof our happier fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, +remains to us; but every one is not a collector; and, besides, 'tis a +diversion you can follow with equal success all the year round. Still, +the instance may haply be pregnant with suggestion to many who wearily +ask each year, what new place or pursuit exhausted earth still keeps +for the holiday-maker. 'Tis a sad but sober fact, that the most of men +lead flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with their family to +some flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a manner +that is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not +try crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular branch -- +for every one must himself seek out and find the path his nature best +fits him to follow; but the general charm of the prospect must be +evident to all. The freshness and novelty of secrecy, the artistic +satisfaction in doing the act of self-expression as well as it can +possibly be done; the experience of being not the hunter, but the +hunted, not the sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing and +discussing crimes with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return to +town; these new pleasures -- these and their like -- would furnish +just that gentle stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary +to the tired worker. And then the fact, that you would naturally have +to select and plan out your particular line of diversion without +advice or assistance, has its own advantage. For the moment a man +takes to dinning in your ears that you ought, you really ought, to go +to Norway, you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate that ever will +be; and to have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the Austrian +Tyrol jammed down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery +that your own individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking +for manslaughter. + +Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After +all, it is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less +culpable than their neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none +need really blush for in the present. For such as they there still +remains the example of the turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden +possibilities. Denied the great delight of driving a locomotive, or a +fire-engine -- whirled along in a glorious nimbus of smoke-pant, +spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar -- what bliss to the palefaced +quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! +Though turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be +taken on many a pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet +moments to tend the lock-keeper's flower-beds -- perhaps make love to +his daughter; anon in busier times to let the old gates swing, work +the groaning winches, and hear the water lap and suck and gurgle as it +slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; to dangle legs over +the side and greet old acquaintances here and there among the +parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not +on the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron +tetter that scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant +life of the road; but many of its best conditions still linger round +these old toll gates, free from dust and clatter, on the silent liquid +Highway to the West. + +These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the +Gift, the path is plain. + +Deus Terminus + +The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when he +needs must worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his +parcelling of the known world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide +here, and to that, Sit you down there, he could scarce fail to evolve +the god Terminus: visible witness of possession and dominion, type of +solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans of this latter day -- +so hailed by others, or complacently christened by ourselves -- are +Roman in nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less tangible +realms of thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the +statue which shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked +out, allotted, and done with; that such and such ramblings and +excursions are practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, +illegal, or absurd. And in this way we are left with naught but a +vague lingering tradition of the happier days before the advent of the +ruthless deity. + +The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each +autumn, regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; +banished by the matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly +where Lord A.'s shooting ends and Squire B.'s begins. Once, no such +petty limitations fettered the mind. A step into the woodland was a +step over the border -- the margin of the material; and then, good-bye +to the modern world of the land-agent and the "Field" advertisement! +A chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the peregrine, with +eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her jesses catching in +the boughs. 'Twas the favourite of the Princess, the windows of whose +father's castle already gleamed through the trees, where honours and +favours awaited the adventurous. The white doe sprang away through the +thicket, her snowy flank stained with blood; she made for the +enchanted cot, and for entrance you too had the pass-word. Did you +fail on her traces, nor fox nor mole was too busy to spare a moment +for friendly advice or information. Little hands were stretched to +trip you, fairy gibe and mockery pelted you from every rabbit-hole; +and O what Dryads you have kissed among the leaves, in that brief +blissful moment ere they hardened into tree! 'Tis pity, indeed, that +this sort of thing should have been made to share the suspicion +attaching to the poacher; that the stony stare of the boundary god +should confront you at the end of every green ride and rabbit-run; +while the very rabbits themselves are too disgusted with the altered +circumstances to tarry a moment for so much as to exchange the time of +day. + +Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something +a round belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden +era of princesses is past. For your really virtuous 'prentices there +still remain a merchant's daughter or two, and a bottle of port o' +Sundays on the Clapham mahogany. For the rest of us, one or two decent +clubs, and plenty of nice roomy lunatic asylums. "Go spin, you jade, +go spin!" is the one greeting for Imagination. And yet -- what a lip +the slut has! What an ankle! Go to: there's nobody looking; let us +lock the door, pull down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. + +'Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so +much is given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and +allotments that shall win back Astraea. Our Labor Program stands for +evidence that the Board School, at least, has done enduring work; and +the useless race of poets is fast dying out. Though we no longer +conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed +when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of guineas galore) +awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more practical +research. "Le monde marche," as Renan hath it, "vers une sorte +d'americanisme.... Peut-etre la vulgarite generale sera-t-elle un jour +la condition du bonheur des elus. Nous n'avons pas le droit d'etre +fort difficiles." We will be very facile, then, since needs must; +remembering the good old proverb that "scornful dogs eat dirty +puddings." But, ere we show Terminus the door, at least let us fling +one stone at the shrieking sulphureous houses of damnation erected as +temples in his honour, and dignified with his name! There, 'mid +clangour, dirt, and pestilence of crowding humanity, the very spirit +of worry and unrest sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad +fellow. His deity of demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew +the kindly touch of sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid +flowers and under blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on +this particular altar the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any +stain of gore. Our hour of sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it +does -- ( et haud procul absit!) -- let the offering be no bloodless +one, but let (for choice) a fat and succulent stationmaster smoke and +crackle on the altar of expiation! + +Of Smoking + +Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a certain +philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and pleasant +to indulge in, "when you're not smoking"; wherein the whole +criticism of the cigarette is found, in a little room. Of the same +manner of thinking was one that I knew, who kept by him an ample case +bulging with cigarettes, to smoke while he was filling his pipe. Toys +they be verily, nugae, and shadows of the substance. Serviceable, +nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the substance is +temporarily unattainable; as between the acts of a play, in the park, +or while dressing for dinner: that such moments may not be entirely +wasted. That cigarette, however, which is so prompt to appear after +dinner I would reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as enemy to that +diviner thing before which it should pale its ineffectual fires in +shame -- to wit, good drink, "la dive bouteille"; except indeed when +the liquor be bad, as is sometimes known to happen. Then it may serve +in some sort as a sorry consolation. But to leave these airy +substitutes, and come to smoking. + +It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, +or that first pipe of the evening which "Hesperus, who bringeth all +good things," brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is +smoked on a clearer palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss +of one's first love; but lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of +merit recompensed and the goal and the garland won, which clings to +the vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the majority give the palm to +the latter. To which I intend no slight when I find the incense that +arises at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, although +with most of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and +swinkers, the morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of +alarums and excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there +are certain halcyon periods sure to arrive -- Sundays, holidays, and +the like -- the whole joy and peace of which are summed up in that one +beatific pipe after breakfast, smoked in a careless majesty like that +of the gods "when they lie beside their nectar, and the clouds are +lightly curled." Then only can we be said really to smoke. And so +this particular pipe of the day always carries with it festal +reminiscences: memories of holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; +a suggestion of sunny lawns and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense +withal of something free and stately, as of "faint march-music in the +air," or the old Roman cry of "Liberty, freedom, and +enfranchisement." + +If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker's ointment, it may be said to +lurk in the matter of "rings." Only the exceptionally gifted smoker +can recline in his chair and emit at will the perfect smoke-ring, in +consummate eddying succession. He of the meaner sort must be content +if, at rare heaven-sent intervals -- while thinking, perhaps, of +nothing less -- there escape from his lips the unpremeditated flawless +circle. Then "deus fio" he is moved to cry, at that breathless +moment when his creation hangs solid and complete, ere the particles +break away and blend with the baser atmosphere. Nay, some will deny to +any of us terrene smokers the gift of fullest achievement: for what +saith the poet of the century? "On the earth the broken arcs: in the +heaven the perfect round!" + +It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins's +novels (if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will +take pleasure in scents derived from animal emanations, clarified +fats, and the like; yet do illogically abhor the "clean, dry, +vegetable smell" of tobacco. Herein the true base of the feminine +objection is reached; being, as usual, inherent want of logic rather +than any distaste, in the absolute, for the thing in question. +Thinking that they ought to dislike, they do painfully cast about for +reasons to justify their dislike, when none really exist. As a +specimen of their so-called arguments, I remember how a certain fair +one triumphantly pointed out to me that my dog, though loving me well, +could yet never be brought to like the smell of tobacco. To whom I, +who respected my dog (as Ben saith of Master Shakespeare) on this side +idolatry as much as anything, was yet fain to point out -- more in +sorrow than in anger -- that a dog, being an animal who delights to +pass his whole day, from early morn to dewy eve, in shoving his nose +into every carrion beastliness that he can come across, could hardly +be considered arbiter elegantiarum in the matter of smells. But indeed +I did wrong to take such foolish quibbling seriously; nor would I have +done so, if she hadn't dragged my poor innocent dog into the +discussion. + +Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity -- an +instance of that excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into +vice -- and couple it with dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify +themselves by argument. For if bed be by common consent the greatest +bliss, the divinest spot, on earth, "ille terrarum qui praeter omnes +angulus ridet"; and if tobacco be the true Herb of Grace, and a joy +and healing balm, and respite and nepenthe, -- if all this be +admitted, why are two things, super-excellent separately, noxious in +conjunction? And is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in pleasure +-- self indulgent perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of a new +"blend," reminding one of a certain traveller's account of an +intoxicant patronised in the South Sea Islands, which combines the +blissful effect of getting drunk and remaining sober to enjoy it? Yet +I shall not insist too much on this point, but would only ask -- so +long as the smoker be unwedded -- for some tolerance in the matter and +a little logic in the discussion thereof. + +Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within +common knowledge. 1 d., 2 d., nay even 4 d., is not too great a price, +if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of expense. In this +sort of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory and ostentation +than solid satisfaction; and its votaries would seem to display less a +calm, healthy affection for tobacco than (as Sir T. Browne hath it) a +"passionate prodigality." And, besides grievous wasting of the +pocket, atmospheric changes, varyings in the crops, and the like, +cause uncertainty to cling about each individual weed, so that man is +always more or less at the mercy of Nature and the elements -- an +unsatisfactory and undignified position in these latter days of the +Triumphant Democracy. But worst and fatallest of all, to every +cigar-smoker it is certain to happen that once in his life, by some +happy combination of time, place, temperament, and Nature -- by some +starry influence, maybe, or freak of the gods in mocking sport -- +once, and once only, he will taste the aroma of the perfect leaf at +just the perfect point -- the ideal cigar. Henceforth his life is +saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a dream, he goes thereafter, +as one might say, in a sort of love-sickness. Seeking he scarce knows +what, his existence becomes a dissatisfied yearning; the world is +spoiled for him, its joys are tasteless: so he wanders, +vision-haunted, down dreary days to some miserable end. + +Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be +done at comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman +motto, slightly altered -- Alieni appetens, sui avarus. There be +always good fellows, with good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the +boxes of these lie open; an the good cigar belongs rather to him that +can appreciate it aright than to the capitalist who, owing to a false +social system, happens to be its temporary guardian and trustee. Again +there is a saying -- bred first, I think, among the schoolmen at +Oxford -- that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father's +income. Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, +after the most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can +resolutely smoke his father's cigars. In the path of duty complete +success is not always to be looked for; but an approving conscience, +the sure reward of honest endeavour, is within reach of all. + +An Autumn Encounter + +For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through level +fields, till it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already golden +three-parts up with ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my inevitable +way; and now that home is almost in sight it seems hard that the last +part of the long day's sweltering and delightful tramp must needs be +haunted by that hateful speck, black on the effulgence of the slope. +Did I not know he was only a scarecrow, the thing might be in a way +companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing curiosity, +gilding this last weary stage with some magic of expectancy. But I +passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, he was already up +and doing, eager to introduce himself. He leered after me as I swung +down the road, -- mimicked my gait, as it seemed, in a most +uncalled-for way; and when I looked back, he was blowing derisive +kisses of farewell with his empty sleeve. + +I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the +morning's start and now; so it was annoying that he should force +himself on me, just when there was no getting rid of him. At this +distance, however, he might be anything. An indeterminate blot, it +seems to waver, to falter, to come and vanish again in the quivering, +heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on that familiar gate -- +are the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable? -- I used to +watch Her pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was +ridiculous, it was fatuous, under all the circumstances it was +monstrous, and yet{...}! We were both under twenty, so She was She, +and I was I, and there were only we three the wide world over, she and +I and the unbetraying gate. Porta eburnea! False visions alone sped +through you, though Cupid was wont to light on your topmost bar, and +preen his glowing plumes. And to think that I should see her once +more, coming down the path as if not a day had passed, hesitating as +of old, and then -- but surely her ankles seem -- Confound that +scarecrow!... + +His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, +which is as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a +new tack. Though here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an +evening breeze is playing briskly along the slope where he stands, and +one sleeve saws the air violently; the other is pointed stiffly +heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor friend! The sins of the +world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You have a mission, +you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. For man, +he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own particular +business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping it: +"Salvation, damnation, damnation, salvation!" And the jolly earth +smiles in the perfect evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs all +round you, and one young rook (only fledged this year, too!), after an +excellent simulation of prostrate, heart-broken penitence, soars +joyously away, to make love to his neighbour's wife. "Salvation, +damnation, damn -- " A shifty wriggle of the road, and he is +transformed once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, holding +his lean sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and gurgle of +merriment. Ho, ho! what a joke it was! How I took you all in! Even the +rooks! What a joke is everything, to be sure! + +Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless mummer. +Fortunately I shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old dog +waxes amorous. Mincing, mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he +would fain pose as the most irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced +a metropolitan kerb. "Love, you young dogs," he seems to croak, +"Love is the one thing worth living for! Enjoy your present, rooks +and all, as I do!" Why, indeed, should he alone be insensible to the +golden influence of the hour? More than one supple waist (alas! for +universal masculine frailty!) has been circled by that tattered sleeve +in days gone by; a throbbing heart once beat where sodden straw now +fails to give a manly curve to the chest. Why should the coat survive, +and not a particle of the passion that inspired it long ago? + +At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins +recognition, completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a +significant glance under the slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm +points persistently and with intelligence up the road. My good fellow, +I know the way to the Dog and Duck as well as you do: I was going +there anyhow, without your officious interference -- and the beer, as +you justly remark, is unimpeachable. But was this really all you've +been trying to say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! + +The White Poppy + +A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses +heavy tresses with gipsy abandon; her sister of the sea-shore is +golden, a yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the spray. +Of another hue is the poppy of history, of romance, of the muse. White +as the stark death-shroud, pallid as the cheeks of that queen of a +silent land whose temples she languorously crowns, ghost-like beside +her fuller-blooded kin, she droops dream-laden, Papaver somniferum, +the poppy of the magic juice of oblivion. In the royal plenitude of +summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes seem but a red cry from +earth in memory of the many dews of battle that have drenched these +acres in years gone by, for little end but that these same "bubbles +of blood" might glow to-day; the yellow flower does but hint of the +gold that has dashed a thousand wrecks at her feet around these +shores: for happier suggestion we must turn to her of the pallid +petals, our white Lady of Consolation. Fitting hue to typify the +crowning blessing of forgetfulness! Too often the sable robes of night +dissemble sleeplessness, remorse, regret, self-questioning. Let black, +then, rather stand for hideous memory: white for blessed blank +oblivion, happiest gift of the gods! For who, indeed, can say that the +record of his life is not crowded with failure and mistake, stained +with its petty cruelties of youth, its meannesses and follies of later +years, all which storm and clamour incessantly at the gates of memory, +refusing to be shut out? Leave us alone, O gods, to remember our +felicities, our successes: only aid us, ye who recall no gifts, aptly +and discreetly to forget. + +Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for +happiness. In the minor matter, for instance, of small money +obligations, that shortness of memory which the school of Professors +Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, may often betray into some +unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject which shall pain the +delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser clay, shall +lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and +thereby to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as +Marcus Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral character. +This is to be a stumbling-block and an offence against the brethren. +It is better to keep just memory enough to avoid such hidden rocks and +shoals; in which thing Mr Swiveller is our great exemplar, whose +mental map of London was a chart wherein every creditor was carefully +"buoyed." + +The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to +the prayer -- and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to +think that we are the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our +friends, we can swear, have all, without exception, atrocious +memories; why is ours alone so hideously vital? Yet this isolation +must be imaginary; for even as we engage in this selfish moan for help +in our own petty case, we are moved to add a word for certain others +who, meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity's +already heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in +this world by the reckless "recollections" of dramatic and other +celebrities? You gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, +above all other sorts and conditions of men, these our poor erring +brothers and sisters, the sometime sommites of Mummerdom! + +Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: +when some subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even +some touch of a fresher air on your cheeks at night -- a breath of +"le vent qui vient a travers la montagne" -- have power to ravish, +to catch you back to the blissful days when you trod the one authentic +Paradise. Moments only, alas! Then the evil crowd rushes in again, +howls in the sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the happy garden; +and once more you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the white +poppy. And you envy your dog who, for full discharge of a present +benefaction having wagged you a hearty, expressive tail, will then +pursue it gently round the hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he +reaches it at last, and oblivion with it; every one of his half-dozen +diurnal sleeps being in truth a royal amnesty. + +But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita +blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but +this gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is +"grace and remembrance." The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a +nursling she hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a +"sorrow's crown of sorrow." What flowers are these her pale hand +offers? "There's pansies, that's for thoughts!" For me rather, O +dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness. + +A Bohemian in Exile + +A Reminiscence + +When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of +Bohemia gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were +found to chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the +fate of this or that once powerful chieftain who either donned the +swallow-tail and conformed or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet +retreat and died as he had lived, a Bohemian. But these were of the +princes of the land. To the people, the villeins, the common rank and +file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and pine, anaemic, in +thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the scornful and +learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only "the short and simple +annals of the poor." + +It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom +as a United States -- a collection of self-ruling guilds, +municipalities, or republics, bound together by a common method of +viewing life. "There once was a king of Bohemia" -- but that was a +long time ago, and even Corporal Trim was not certain in whose reign +it was. These small free States, then, broke up gradually, from +various causes and with varying speed; and I think ours was one of the +last to go. + +With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost leaders. "Just +for a handful of silver he left us"; though it was not exactly that, +but rather that, having got the handful of silver, they wanted a wider +horizon to fling it about under than Bloomsbury afforded. + + So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, one by one -- + +But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their +success, and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. + +When old Pan was dead and Apollo's bow broken, there were many +faithful pagans who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to +the hills and caves, truer to the old gods in their discrowned +desolation than in their pomp and power. Even so were we left behind, +a remnant of the faithful. We had never expected to become great in +art or song; it was the life itself that we loved; that was our end -- +not, as with them, the means to an end. + + We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we; + Give us the glory of going on and still to be. + +Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had +changed, and we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. + +Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past +was dead, and he wasn't going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, too, +would be dead to Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man's +death, said "he changed his life." This is how Fothergill changed +his life and died to Bloomsbury. One morning he made his way to the +Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. The Whitechapel +barrows are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by a boy with +half a dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall pony, such +as on Sundays take the members of a club to Epping Forest. They are +all precisely the same in plan and construction, only in the larger +sizes the handles develop or evolve into shafts; and they are equally +suitable, according to size, for the vending of whelks, for a +hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for the conveyance of a cheery and +numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a medium sized +"developed" one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it painted white, +picked out with green -- the barrow, not the donkey -- and when his +arrangements were complete, stabled the whole for the night in +Bloomsbury. The following morning, before the early red had quite +faded from the sky, the exodus took place, those of us who were left +being assembled to drink a parting whisky-and-milk in sad and solemn +silence. Fothergill turned down Oxford Street, sitting on the shaft +with a short clay in his mouth, and disappeared from our sight, +heading west at a leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives by way +of the Bayswater Road. + +They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, +from the fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It +seems that eventually, his style of living being economical, he was +enabled to put down his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a +mare -- no fashionable gipsy-cart, a sort of houseboat on wheels, but +a light and serviceable cart, with a moveable tilt, constructed on his +own designs. This allowed him to take along with him a few canvases +and other artists' materials; soda-water, whisky, and such like +necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if +he wanted to. + +He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to +Streatley one afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long +ramble on the glorious North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before +dinner. Somewhere over on Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the +Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, I found him, smoking his +vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare cropping the short +grass beside him. He greeted me without surprise or effusion, as if we +had only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion to past +times, but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three years, +and, without ever telling his story right out, left a strange +picturesque impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated +by fifty years from modern conventional existence. The old road-life +still lingered on in places, it seemed, once one got well away from +the railway: there were two Englands existing together, the one +fringing the great iron highways wherever they might go -- the England +under the eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, in +whatever places were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as +of old: the England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of +by-lanes and village-greens -- the England of Parson Adams and +Lavengro. The spell of the free untrammelled life came over me as I +listened, till I was fain to accept of his hospitality and a +horse-blanket for the night, oblivious of civilised comforts down at +the Bull. On the downs where Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing +up at the quiet stars that had shone on many a Dane lying stark and +still a thousand years ago; and in the silence of the lone tract that +enfolded us we seemed nearer to those old times than to these I had +left that afternoon, in the now hushed and sleeping valley of the +Thames. + +When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill's aunt had +died and left him her house near town and the little all she had +possessed, I heard it with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For the +house had been his grandfather's, and he had spent much of his boyhood +there; it had been a dream of his early days to possess it in some +happy future, and I knew he could never bear to sell or let it. On the +other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the desert? And will not the +caged eagle mope and pine? + +However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for +the time. The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the +mare turned out to grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all +seeming, with "a book of verses underneath the bough," and a bottle +of old claret for the friend who might chance to drop in. But as the +year wore on small signs began to appear that he who had always +"rather hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak" was beginning to +feel himself caged, though his bars were gilded. + +I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three +men-servants), and he told me that of a Sunday morning when the +household had gone to church and everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill +would go into the coach-house and light his pipe, and sit on the step +of the brougham (he had a brougham now), and gaze at the old cart, and +smoke and say nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He didn't like +it, the coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. + +One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was +wakened by a flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft +through the open window; the first magic suggestion of spring was +abroad, with its whispered hints of daffodils and budding hawthorns; +and one's blood danced to imagined pipings of Pan from happy fields +far distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a certain +foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as +possible. It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master +was missing. In the very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the +earliest under-housemaid had begun to set man-traps on the stairs and +along the passages, he must have quietly left the house. The servants +were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and thought the master must only +have "gone for a nice long walk," and so on, after the manner of +their kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. Sure +enough, the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the paddock. +It was no good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild haunter of +tracks and by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I kept my own +counsel. Fothergill never returned to Holly Lodge, and has been more +secret and evasive since his last flight, rarely venturing on old +camping grounds near home, like to a bird scared by the fowler's gun. + +Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry +known as the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens +of which I was tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; +hearing in an old village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart +who neither carried samples nor pushed the brewing interest by other +means than average personal consumption -- tales already beginning to +be distorted into material for the myth of the future. I found him +friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. As the evening wore +on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly Lodge; but his +air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had passed +out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even +tenor of his nomadic existence. + +After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he +might, with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; +certainly, I think, an artistic one. He had great powers, had any +impulse been present to urge him to execution and achievement. But he +was for none of these things. Contemplative, receptive, with a keen +sense of certain sub-tones and side aspects of life unseen by most, he +doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own way, and to gather from +the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor spend them in +toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. + + Some for the glories of this life, and some + Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come: + Ah, take the cash and let the credit go, + Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum. + +Justifiable Homicide + +This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; so he +cannot be said to ask too much who seeks for exact information as to +how a young man ought, in justice to himself and to society, to deal +with his relations. During his minority he has lain entirely at their +mercy: has been their butt, their martyr, their drudge, their corpus +vile. Possessing all the sinews of war, this stiff-necked tribe has +consistently refused to "part": even for the provision of those +luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its members have +crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral maxims, +and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively suspected at +the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, to be utterly +worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the tocsin has sounded +at last, and the Gaul is at the gate, they still appear to think that +the old condition of things is to go on; unconscious, apparently, of +atonement due, of retribution to be exacted, of wrongs to be avenged +and of insults to be wiped away! + +Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs +not, the artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for +relatives who neglect or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it +was who found himself compelled to reprove an uncle with an +unfortunate habit of squandering the family estate. An excellent +relative, this uncle, in all other respects. As a liar, he had few +equals; he robbed with taste and discretion; and his murders were all +imbued with true artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old +age of spotless respectability but for his one little failing. As it +was, justice had to be done, ruat caelum: and so it came about that one +day the nephew issued forth to correct him with a matchlock. The +innocent old man was cultivating his paternal acres; so the nephew was +able, unperceived, to get a steady sight on him. His finger was on the +trigger, when suddenly there slipped into his mind the divine precept: +"Allah is merciful!" He lowered his piece, and remained for a little +plunged in thought; meanwhile the unconscious uncle hoed his paddy. +Then with a happy smile he took aim once more, for there also occurred +to him the precept equally divine: "But Allah is also just." With an +easy conscience he let fly, and behold! there was an uncle the more in +Paradise. + +It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that +constrained a recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for +leave of absence: in order to attend to family matters of importance. +The Colonel knew it was small use refusing the leave, as in that case +his recruit would promptly desert; so he could only ask, how long was +the transaction like to take? It was told him, after consideration, +that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a month would +meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he allowed +his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His +Colonel ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business +in question were satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: "I got him +from behind a rock." + +There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such +methods at home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these +free and happy sons of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are +left us still: averse from change, mistrustful of progress, sticking +steadily to the good old-fashioned dagger and bowl. I had a friend who +disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles were his special line -- +(he had suffered much from their tribe, having been early left an +orphan) -- though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when +he was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or +two. But it was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning +of his career) a large number of these connections, and pursuit of +them, from the mere sordid point of view of L s. d., proved lucrative. +But he always protested (and I believed him) that gain with him was a +secondary consideration. It would hardly be in the public interest to +disclose his modus operandi. I shall only remark that he was one of +the first to realise the security and immunity afforded the artist by +the conditions of modern London. Hence it happened that he usually +practised in town, but spent his vacations at the country houses of +such relations as were still spared him, where he was always the life +and soul of the place. Unfortunately he is no longer with us, to +assist in the revision of this article: nor was it permitted me to +soothe his last moments. The presiding Sheriff was one of those +new-fangled officials who insist on the exclusion of the public, and +he declined to admit me either in the capacity of a personal +connection or, though I tried my hardest, as the representative of +"The National Observer." It only remains to be said of my much-tried +and still lamented friend, that he left few relatives to mourn his +untimely end. + +But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march +of Time, and my poor friend's Art (as himself in later years would +sorrowfully admit) is now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of +old, or "Robbia's craft so apt and strange"; while our thin-blooded +youth, too nice for the joyous old methods, are content to find +sweetest revenge in severely dropping their relations. This is indeed +a most effective position: it exasperates, while it is unassailable. +And yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. Not mere +forgiveness: it is simple duty to forgive -- even one's guardians. No +young man of earnest aspirations will be content to stop there. Nay: +lead them on, these lost ones, by the hand; conduct them "generously +and gently, and with linking of the arm"; educate them, eradicate +their false ideals, dispel their foolish prejudices; be to their +faults a little blind and to their virtues very kind: in fine, realise +that you have a mission -- that these wretches are not here for +nothing. The task will seem hard at first; but only those who have +tried can know how much may be done by assiduous and kindly effort +towards the chastening -- ay! the final redemption even! -- of the +most hopeless and pig-headed of uncles. + +The Fairy Wicket + +From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times historical, +all dotted with date and number and sign, how exquisite the relief in +turning to the dear days outside history -- yet not so very far off +neither for us nurslings of the northern sun -- when kindly beasts +would loiter to give counsel by the wayside, and a fortunate encounter +with one of the Good People was a surer path to Fortune and the Bride +than the best-worn stool that ever proved step-ladder to aspiring +youth. For then the Fairy Wicket stood everywhere ajar -- everywhere +and to each and all. "Open, open, green hill!" -- you needed no more +recondite sesame than that: and, whoever you were, you might have a +glimpse of the elfin dancers in the hall that is litten within by +neither sun nor moon; or catch at the white horse's bridle as the +Fairy Prince rode through. It has been closed now this many a year +(the fairies, always strong in the field, are excellent +wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, 'tis but for a moment's +mockery of the material generation that so deliberately turned its +back on the gap into Elf-Land -- that first stage to the Beyond. + +It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play +on a small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, +uncomfortable outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the +feathers whereinto he was wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the +arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove him to Nature for redress; and, +under an alien sky, he would go forth and wander along the iron road +by impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those hitherto a part of +him and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus loitering with +overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead -- that, sure, is +not all unfamiliar? That row of elms -- it cannot entirely be accident +that they range just so? And, if not accident, then round the bend +will come the old duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a +few yards on will be the gate -- it swings-to with its familiar click +-- the dogs race down the avenue -- and then -- and then! It is all +wildly fanciful; and yet, though knowing not Tertullian, a "credo +quia impossibile" is on his tongue as he quickens his pace -- for +what else can he do? A step, and the spell is shattered -- all is +cruel and alien once more; while every copse and hedge-row seems +a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter. The Fairies have had their joke: +they have opened the wicket one of their own hand's-breadths, and shut +it in their victim's face. When next that victim catches a fairy, he +purposes to tie up the brat in sight of his own green hill, and set +him to draw up a practical scheme for Village Councils. + +One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old +fashion, was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the +people: "I'd like to be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I'd like to +be a fairy, And wear short close!" And in later life it is to her sex +that the wee (but very wise) folk sometimes delegate their power of +torment. Such understudies are found to play the part exceeding well; +and many a time the infatuated youth believes he sees in the depth of +one sole pair of eyes -- blue, brown, or green (the fairy colour) -- +the authentic fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time must he hear the +quaint old formula, "I'm sure, if I've ever done anything to lead you +to think," etc (runs it not so?), ere he shall realise that here is +the gate upon no magic pleasance but on a cheap suburban villa, +banging behind the wrathful rate-collector or hurled open to speed the +pallid householder to the Registrar's Office. In still grosser +habitations, too, they lurk, do the People of Mischief, ready to +frolic out on the unsuspecting one: as in the case, which still haunts +my memory, of a certain bottle of an historic Chateau-Yquem, hued like +Venetian glass, odorous as a garden in June. Forth from out the faint +perfume of this haunted drink there danced a bevy from Old France, +clad in the fashion of Louis-Quinze, peach-coloured knots of ribbon +bedizening apple-green velvets, as they moved in stately wise among +the roses of the old garden, to the quaint music -- Rameau, was it? -- +of a fairy cornemuse, while fairy Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat +and painted them. Alas! too shallow the bottle, too brief the brawls: +not to be recalled by any quantity of Green Chartreuse. + +Aboard the Galley + +He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told me this +tale), when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange fleet, whose +like he had not before seen. For each little craft was a corpse, +stiffly "marlined," or bound about with tarred rope, as mariners do +use to treat plug tobacco: also ballasted, and with a fair mast and +sail stepped through his midriff. These self-sufficing ships knew no +divided authority: no pilot ever took the helm from the captain's +hands; no mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained of the +provisions. In a certain island to windward (the native pilot +explained) it was the practice, when a man died, to bury him for the +time being in dry, desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his +people, when the waiting bodies were brought out and, caulked and +rigged secumdum artem, were launched with the first fair breeze, the +admiral at their head, on their voyage to the Blessed Islands. And if +a chief should die, and the sand should hold no store of corpses for +his escort, this simple practical folk would solve the little +difficulty by knocking some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, +that the notable might voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant +little company, running before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, +all bound for the Isles of Light! 'Twas a sight to shame us sitters at +home, who believe in those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are +content to trundle City-wards or to Margate, so long as the sorry +breath is in us; and, breathless at last, to Bow or Kensal Green; +without one effort, dead or alive, to reach the far-shining +Hesperides. + +"Dans la galere, capitane, nous etions quatre-vingt rameurs!" sang +the oarsmen in the ballad; and they, though indeed they toiled on the +galley-bench, were free and happy pirates, members of an honoured and +liberal profession. But all we -- pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, +whatever our calling -- are but galley-slaves of the basest sort, +fettered to the oar each for his little spell. A common misery links +us all, like the chain that runs the length of the thwarts. Can +nothing make it worth our while not to quarrel with our fellows? The +menace of the storms is for each one and for all: the master's whip +has a fine impartiality. Crack! the lash that scored my comrade's back +has flicked my withers too; yet neither of us was shirking -- it was +that grinning ruffian in front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the +evasion shall be ours, while he writhes howling. But why do we never +once combine -- seize on the ship, fling our masters into the sea, and +steer for some pleasant isle far down under the Line, beyond the +still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho for feasting! Hey for tobacco and +free-quarters! But no: the days pass, and are reckoned up, and done +with; and ever more pressing cares engage. Those fellows on the +leeward benches are having an easier time than we poor dogs on the +weather side? Then, let us abuse, pelt, vilify then: let us steal +their grub, and have at them generally for a set of shirking, +malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they may be to +windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know this well, +the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we like them none +the worse for it. + +Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile +phrases in the honour of these whipmasters of ours -- as "omnes eodem +cogimur," and the rest; which is all very pretty and mighty +consoling. The fact is, the poets are the only people who score by the +present arrangement; which it is therefore their interest to maintain. +While we are doing all the work, these incorrigible skulkers lounge +about and make ribald remarks; they write Greek tragedies on Fate, on +the sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, and so on; and act in a +generally offensive way. And we are even weak enough to buy their +books; offer them drinks, peerages, and things; and say what +superlative fellows they are! But when the long-looked-for combination +comes, and we poor devils have risen and abolished fate, destiny, the +Olympian Council, early baldness, and the like, these poets will +really have to go. + +And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up +with our relations? True members of the "stupid party," who never +believe in us, who know (and never forget) the follies of our +adolescence; who are always wanting us not to do things; who are +lavish of advice, yet angered by the faintest suggestion of a small +advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish and these endure? No: +as soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to the sharks +with our relations! + +The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The +Sportsman of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over -- first, his +game, and then the miserable being he button-holes for the tedious +recital. Shall we suffer him longer? Who else? Who is that cowering +under the bulwarks yonder? The man who thinks he can imitate the +Scottish accent! Splash! And the next one? What a crowd is here! How +they block the hatchways, lumber the deck, and get between you and the +purser's room -- these fadmongers, teetotallers, missionaries of +divers isms! Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate Isles! +Then for tobacco in a hammock 'twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled +in a brooklet losing itself in silver sands! Then for -- but O these +bilboes on our ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun +blisters the bare back: faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to +flicker like Northern Lights across the stark and pitiless sky. One +earnest effort would do it, my brothers! A little modesty, a short +sinking of private differences; and then we should all be free and +equal gentlemen of fortune, and I would be your Captain! "Who? you? +you would make a pretty Captain!" Better than you, you scurvy, +skulking, little galley-slave! "Galley-slave yourself, and be --- +Pull together, boys, and lie low! Here's the Master coming with his +whip!" + +The Lost Centaur + +It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the great +volume of ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured from +babyhood by the wise and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence an +ideal of human skill and wisdom blent with all that was best and +noblest of animal instinct, strength and swiftness, found poor +humanity sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth among his +pottering little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto +fancied to be the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the +lords of earth even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: +below, shod with the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the +potentiality of the armed heel. Instead of which -- ! How fallen was +his first fair hope of the world! And even when reconciled at last to +the dynasty of the forked radish, after he had seen its quality tested +round the clangorous walls of Troy -- some touch of an imperial +disdain ever lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could +contentedly hail him -- him, who had known Cheiron! -- as hero and +lord! + +Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling +lingers. + +Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, +reaching back "through spaces out of space and timeless time," +somewhere joins us to the Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly +base. As we grow from our animal infancy, and the threads snap one by +one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul poising for flight into +Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every gain, we have some +forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we to "let +the ape and tiger die"; but the pleasant cousins dissembled in hide +and fur and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last vile folk, +indeed, exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly offend by +always carrying the Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their tails. +Others -- happily of less didactic dispositions -- there be; and it is +to these unaffected, careless companions that the sensible child is +wont to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, tame +creatures claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, while +cheerfully admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his +inferiority at every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected +earthwards, he essays to sniff it with the terrier who (as becomes the +nobler animal) is leading in the chase; and he is ready to weep as he +realises his loss. And the rest of the Free Company, -- the pony, the +cows, the great cart-horses, -- are ever shaming him by their +unboastful exercise of some enviable and unattainable attribute. Even +the friendly pig, who (did but parents permit) should eat of his bread +and drink of his cup, and be unto him as a brother, -- which among all +these unhappy bifurcations, so cheery, so unambitious, so purely +contented, so apt to be the guide, philosopher, and friend of boyhood +as he? What wonder that at times, when the neophyte in life begins to +realise that all these desirable accomplishments have had to be +surrendered one by one in the process of developing a Mind, the course +of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is wont -- not knowing the +extent of the kingdom to which he is heir -- to feel a little +discontented? + +Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is +already ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom +the submerged human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted moments. +He, the peevish and irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty +domesticities, is linked to us by little but his love of melody; but +for which saving grace, the hair would soon creep up from thigh to +horn of him. At times he will still do us a friendly turn: will lend a +helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own +salvation; will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon plain. +But in the main his sympathies are first for the beast: to which his +horns are never horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever natural and +familiar, and his voice (with its talk of help and healing) not harsh +nor dissonant, but voice of very brother as well as very god. + +And this declension -- for declension it is, though we achieve all the +confidences of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant argot +of the woods -- may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us of our +primal cousins to draw us down. On the other hand, let soul inform and +irradiate body as it may, the threads are utterly shorn asunder never: +nor is man, the complete, the self-contained, permitted to cut himself +wholly adrift from these his poor relations. The mute and stunted +human embryo that gazes appealingly from out the depths of their eyes +must ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) closer. Nay, at +times, it must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As thus: "Was it +really necessary, after all, that we two should part company so early? +May you not have taken a wrong turning somewhere, in your long race +after your so-called progress, after the perfection of this be-lauded +species of yours? A turning whose due avoidance might perhaps have +resulted in no such lamentable cleavage as is here, but in some +perfect embodiment of the dual nature: as who should say a being with +the nobilities of both of us, the basenesses of neither? So might you, +more fortunately guided, have been led at last up the green sides of +Pelion, to the ancestral, the primeval, Centaur still waiting majestic +on the summit!" It is even so. Perhaps this thing might once have +been, O cousin outcast and estranged! But the opportunity was long +since lost. Henceforth, two ways for us for ever! + +Orion + +The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is steely-clear. High and +dominant amidst the Populations of the Sky, the restless and the +steadfast alike, hangs the great Plough, lit with a hard radiance as +of the polished and shining share. And yonder, low on the horizon, but +half resurgent as yet, crouches the magnificent hunter: watchful, +seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of menace in his port. + +Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has +passed since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing +forest and draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and +Sunday schools, with the chains that are forged of peace, the irking +fetters of plenty: driving also the whole lot of us, these to sweat at +its tail, those to plod with the patient team, but all to march in a +great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order and law: while the +happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his pleasing +nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children +of the Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in +right case to forget that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon +withal. Where, then, does he hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, here, +my brother, and here; deep in the breasts of each and all of us! And +for this drop of primal quicksilver in the blood what poppy or +mandragora shall purge it hence away? + +Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith +they brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against +accepted maxims and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of +course, this fitful stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a +natural craving for a seat on a high stool, for the inscription -- now +horizontal, and now vertical -- of figures, is sin. But the deskmen +command a temporary majority: for the short while they shall hold the +cards they have the right to call the game. And so -- since we must +bow to the storm -- let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other +Salvation -- for a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a +matter of nomenclature. What we have now first to note is that this +original Waft from the Garden asserts itself most vigorously in the +Child. This it is that thrusts the small boy out under the naked +heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an islet in the +duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after the +gipsy's van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to +the pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the +tingling blood of her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides +along that shining highway to the dim land east o' the sun and west o' +the moon: where freedom is, and you can wander and breathe, and at +night tame street lamps there are none -- only the hunter's fires, and +the eyes of lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years it is +stifled and gagged -- buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and +on its heart a stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up +and out when 'tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief +summers gone, who was missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a +goodly portly man, i' faith: and had a villa and a steam launch at +Surbiton: and was versed in the esoteric humours of the House. Who +could have thought that the Hunter lay hid in him? Yet, after many +weeks, they found him in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, sun-burnt, +the nocturnal haystack calling aloud from his frayed and +weather-stained duds, his trousers tucked, he was tickling trout with +godless native urchins; and when they would have won him to himself +with honied whispers of American Rails, he answered but with babble of +green fields. He is back in his wonted corner now: quite cured, +apparently, and tractable. And yet -- let the sun shine too wantonly +in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, quick with the warm +South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to the station; and +will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, truly: and next +time he will not be caught. + +Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have +hushed the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have "come tripping +doon the stair," rapt by the climbing passion from their +strawberry-leaved surroundings into starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, +too -- the douce, respectable mediocrities that we are -- which of us +but might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are mercifully +unknown to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What +marvel that up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one +in his ken, the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast +and gone forth on its irresistible appeal! + +Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes +of the horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate suburbs +creep ever farther into the retreating fields; and when you reach the +windy moorland, lo! it is all staked out into building-lots. Mud is +muddier now than heretofore; and ruts are ruttier. And what friendless +old beast comes limping down the dreary lane? He seems sorely shrunk +and shoulder-shotten; but by the something of divinity in his look, +still more than by the wings despondent along his mighty sides, 'tis +ever the old Pegasus -- not yet the knacker's own. "Hard times I've +been having," he murmurs, as you rub his nose. "These fellows have +really no seat except for a park hack. As for this laurel, we were +wont to await it trembling: and in taking it we were afraid. Your +English way of hunting it down with yelpings and hallooings -- well, I +may be out of date, but we wouldn't have stood that sort of thing on +Helicon." So he hobbles down the road. Good night, old fellow! Out of +date? Well, it may be so. And alas! the blame is ours. + +But for the Hunter -- there he rises -- couchant no more. Nay, flung +full stretch on the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his +turn, then, really come at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal +ruin, all levelling, whelming the County Councillor with the +Music-hall artiste, obliterating the very furrows of the Plough, shall +the skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more loose the +whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet -- look up! Look +up and behold him confident, erect, majestic -- there on the threshold +of the sky! + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pagan Papers, by Kenneth Grahame + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAGAN PAPERS *** + +***** This file should be named 5319.txt or 5319.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/5319/ + +Produced by William McClain + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Pagan Papers + +Author: Kenneth Grahame + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5319] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 30, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PAGAN PAPERS *** + + + + +Pagan Papers was first published in 1893 and the text is in the public +domain. This is a reprint of the first American edition of 1898. The +transcription was done by William McClain <info@sattre-press.com>, +2002. + +A printed version of this book is available from Sattre Press, +http://pagan_papers.sattre-press.com/. It includes a glossary of +French and Latin phrases. + + +PAGAN PAPERS +by Kenneth Grahame + + +The Romance of the Road + +Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and his company +during the progress of their famous voyage, few surpass that island +whose roads did literally ``go'' to places -- ``ou les chemins +cheminent, comme animaulx'': and would-be travellers, having inquired +of the road as to its destination, and received satisfactory reply, +``se guindans'' (as the old book hath it -- hoisting themselves up on) +``au chemin opportun, sans aultrement se poiner ou fatiguer, se +trouvoyent au lieu destin.'' + +The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of +vitality in roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join +it at Streatley, the point where it crosses the Thames; at once it +strikes you out and away from the habitable world in a splendid, +purposeful manner, running along the highest ridge of the Downs a +broad green ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference from the +neighbouring grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor +homesteads tempt it aside or modify its course for a yard; should you +lose the track where it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in +and obliterated by criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight +on, taking heed of no alternative to right or left; and in a minute +'tis with you again -- arisen out of the earth as it were. Or, if +still not quite assured, lift you your eyes, and there it runs over +the brow of the fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, it +disappears indeed -- hiding Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble +and brick-work; but a little way on it takes up the running again with +the same quiet persistence. Out on that almost trackless expanse of +billowy Downs such a track is in some sort humanly companionable: it +really seems to lead you by the hand. + +The ``Rudge'' is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this +pleasant personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a +characteristic of the old country road, evolved out of the primitive +prehistoric track, developing according to the needs of the land it +passes through and serves: with a language, accordingly, and a meaning +of its own. Its special services are often told clearly enough; but +much else too of the quiet story of the country-side: something of the +old tale whereof you learn so little from the printed page. Each is +instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are martial and +historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town -- with its Roman or Saxon suffix +to British root -- hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his vates +sacer, passed silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The little +rise up yonder on the Downs that breaks their straight green line +against the sky showed another sight when the sea of battle surged and +beat on its trampled sides; and the Roman, sore beset, may have gazed +down this very road for relief, praying for night or the succouring +legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at you from under +her sun-bonnet -- so may some girl-ancestress of hers have watched +with beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with the +heathen and break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And +yonder, where the road swings round under gloomy overgrowth of +drooping boughs -- is that gleam of water or glitter of lurking +spears? + +Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty +hedges overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and +beast, living in frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable +lessons each of the other; over the full-fed river, lipping the +meadow-sweet, and thence on either side through leagues of hay. Or +through bending corn they chant the mystical wonderful song of the +reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most of them, +avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley +by gentle ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of +keen fragrance in the air, by some mystery of added softness under +foot -- ever a promise of something to come, unguessed, delighting. +Till suddenly you are among the pines, their keen scent strikes you +through and through, their needles carpet the ground, and in their +swaying tops moans the unappeasable wind -- sad, ceaseless, as the cry +of a warped humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is fulfilled, +the hints and whisperings become fruition: the ground breaks steeply +away, and you look over a great inland sea of fields, homesteads, +rolling woodland, and -- bounding all, blent with the horizon, a +greyness, a gleam -- the English Channel. A road of promises, of +hinted surprises, following each other with the inevitable sequence in +a melody. + +But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of chemins qui +cheminent: dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, +veritably se guindans, may reach his destination ``sans se poiner ou +se fatiguer'' (with large qualifications); but sans very much else +whereof he were none the worse. The gain seems so obvious that you +forget to miss all that lay between the springing stride of the early +start and the pleasant weariness of the end approached, when the limbs +lag a little as the lights of your destination begin to glimmer +through the dusk. All that lay between! ``A Day's Ride a Life's +Romance'' was the excellent title of an unsuccessful book; and indeed +the journey should march with the day, beginning and ending with its +sun, to be the complete thing, the golden round, required of it. This +makes that mind and body fare together, hand in hand, sharing the +hope, the action, the fruition; finding equal sweetness in the languor +of aching limbs at eve and in the first god-like intoxication of +motion with braced muscle in the sun. For walk or ride take the mind +over greater distances than a throbbing whirl with stiffening joints +and cramped limbs through a dozen counties. Surely you seem to cover +vaster spaces with Lavengro, footing it with gipsies or driving his +tinker's cart across lonely commons, than with many a globe-trotter or +steam-yachtsman with diary or log? And even that dividing line -- +strictly marked and rarely overstepped -- between the man who bicycles +and the man who walks, is less due to a prudent regard for personal +safety of the one part than to an essential difference in minds. + +There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed +be experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a +Turkish bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only +felt at its fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open +air. ``A man ought to be seen by the gods,'' says Marcus Aurelius, +``neither dissatisfied with anything, nor complaining.'' Though this +does not sound at first hearing an excessive demand to make of +humanity, yet the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such a sight +in these unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, 'tis when after +many a mile in sun and wind -- maybe rain -- you reach at last, with +the folding star, your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, +comfortable strangeness, after unnumbered chops with country ale, the +hard facts of life begin to swim in a golden mist. You are isled from +accustomed cares and worries -- you are set in a peculiar nook of +rest. Then old failures seem partial successes, then old loves come +back in their fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of +regret, then old jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing +of the gods above, nothing of men below -- not even their company. +To-morrow you shall begin life again: shall write your book, make your +fortune, do anything; meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings +round, and you seem to hear it circle to the music of the spheres. +What pipe was ever thus beatifying in effect? You are aching all over, +and enjoying it; and the scent of the limes drifts in through the +window. This is undoubtedly the best and greatest country in the +world; and none but good fellows abide in it. + + Laud we the Gods, + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our blest altars. + +The Romance of the Rail + +In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that +is wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of +the steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no +longer begins to work at the point where vision ceases. In happier +times, three hundred years ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked +out from the prows of their vessels in the grey of the morning, and +wot not rightly whether the land they saw might be Jerusalem or +Madagascar, or if it were not North and South America. ``And there be +certaine flitting islands,'' says one, ``which have been oftentimes +seene, and when men approached near them they vanished.'' ``It may be +that the gulfs will wash us down,'' said Ulysses (thinking of what +Americans call the ``getting-off place''); ``it may be we shall touch +the Happy Isles.'' And so on, and so on; each with his special hope or +``wild surmise.'' There was always a chance of touching the Happy +Isles. And in that first fair world whose men and manners we knew +through story-books, before experience taught us far other, the Prince +mounts his horse one fine morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a +forest; and next morning, lo! a new country: and he rides by fields +and granges never visited before, through faces strange to him, to +where an unknown King steps down to welcome the mysterious stranger. +And he marries the Princess, and dwells content for many a year; till +one day he thinks ``I will look upon my father's face again, though +the leagues be long to my own land.'' And he rides all day, and sleeps +in a forest; and next morning he is made welcome at home, where his +name has become a dim memory. Which is all as it should be; for, +annihilate time and space as you may, a man's stride remains the true +standard of distance; an eternal and unalterable scale. The severe +horizon, too, repels the thoughts as you gaze to the infinite +considerations that lie about, within touch and hail; and the night +cometh, when no man can work. + +To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now +and again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where +iron has superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull +as the measured beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them +is now a matter of effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our +ordinary course; they are no longer unsought influences towards the +making of character. So perhaps the time of them has gone by, here in +this second generation of steam. Pereunt et imputantur; they pass +away, and are scored against not us but our guilty fathers. For +ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The romance of +the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed -- not fully nor +worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though Emerson +for one will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its right to +immediate recognition as poetic material. ``For as it is dislocation +and detachment from the life of God that makes things ugly, the poet, +who re-attaches things to Nature and the whole -- re-attaching even +artificial things and violations of Nature to Nature by a deeper +insight -- disposes very easily of the most disagreeable facts''; so +that he looks upon ``the factory village and the railway'' and ``sees +them fall within the great Order not less than the bee-hive or the +spider's geometrical web.'' The poet, however, seems hard to convince +hereof. Emerson will have it that ``Nature loves the gliding train of +cars''; ``instead of which'' the poet still goes about the country +singing purling brooks. Painters have been more flexible and liberal. +Turner saw and did his best to seize the spirit of the thing, its +kinship with the elements, and to blend furnace-glare and rush of iron +with the storm-shower, the wind and the thwart-flashing sun-rays, and +to make the whole a single expression of irresoluble force. And even +in a certain work by another and a very different painter -- though I +willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate romantic intention -- you +shall find the element of romance in the vestiges of the old order +still lingering in the first transition period: the coach-shaped +railway carriages with luggage piled and corded on top, the red-coated +guard, the little engine tethered well ahead as if between traces. To +those bred within sight of the sea, steamers will always partake in +somewhat of the ``beauty and mystery of the ships''; above all, if +their happy childhood have lain among the gleaming lochs and sinuous +firths of the Western Highlands, where, twice a week maybe, the +strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a piece of the busy, +mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand alone in owning +to a sentimental weakness for the night-piercing whistle -- +judiciously remote, as some men love the skirl of the pipes. In the +days when streets were less wearily familiar than now, or ever the +golden cord was quite loosed that led back to relinquished fields and +wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer nights, thinking of +luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the whistles +from certain railway stations, veritable ``horns of Elf-land, faintly +blowing.'' Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a +phantom train, and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the +journey bit by bit: through the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the +grey glimmer of dawn showed stone walls in place of hedges, and masses +looming up on either side; till the bright sun shone upon brown +leaping streams and purple heather, and the clear, sharp northern air +streamed in through the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; +Endymion-like, ``my first touch of the earth went nigh to kill'': but +it was only to hurry northwards again on the wings of imagination, +from dust and heat to the dear mountain air. ``We are only the +children who might have been,'' murmured Lamb's dream babes to him; +and for the sake of those dream-journeys, the journeys that might have +been, I still hail with a certain affection the call of the engine in +the night: even as I love sometimes to turn the enchanted pages of the +railway a b c, and pass from one to the other name reminiscent or +suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian maybe, or savouring of Wessex, +or bearing me away to some sequestered reach of the quiet Thames. + +Non Libri Sed Liberi + +It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. +That it is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always +fails to find him thus engaged. He will talk about them -- all night +if you let him -- wave his hand to them, shake his fist at them, shed +tears over them (in the small hours of the morning); but he will not +read them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys his books +without a remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers +start with the honest resolution that some day they will ``shut down +on'' this fatal practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter +into their charmed circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind +them. Then will they read out of nothing but first editions; every day +shall be a debauch in large paper and tall copies; and crushed morocco +shall be familiar to their touch as buckram. Meanwhile, though, books +continue to flaunt their venal charms; it would be cowardice to shun +the fray. In fine, one buys and continues to buy; and the promised +Sabbath never comes. + +The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein +resembling the familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the +first sight of the Object, accompanied of a catching of the breath, a +trembling in the limbs, loss of appetite, ungovernable desire, and a +habit of melancholy in secret places. But once possessed, once toyed +with amorously for an hour or two, the Object (as in the inferior +passion aforesaid) takes its destined place on the shelf -- where it +stays. And this saith the scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail +to remark with a certain awe that the owner goeth thereafter as one +possessing a happy secret and radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is +insufferably conceited, and his conceit waxeth as his coat, now +condemned to a fresh term of servitude, groweth shabbier. And shabby +though his coat may be, yet will he never stoop to renew its pristine +youth and gloss by the price of any book. No man -- no human, +masculine, natural man -- ever sells a book. Men have been known in +moments of thoughtlessness, or compelled by temporary necessity, to +rob, to equivocate, to do murder, to commit what they should not, to +``wince and relent and refrain'' from what they should: these things, +howbeit regrettable, are common to humanity, and may happen to any of +us. But amateur bookselling is foul and unnatural; and it is +noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, contains no +distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly known to +exist: the face of the public being set against it as a flint -- and +the trade giving such wretched prices. + +In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the +reflection that this particular purchase will be a good investment, +sordidly considered: that you are not squandering income but sinking +capital. But you know all the time that you are lying. Once possessed, +books develop a personality: they take on a touch of warm human life +that links them in a manner with our kith and kin. Non angli sed +Angeli was the comment of a missionary (old style) on the small human +duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many a +buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his +possession, must have felt that here was something vendible no more. +So of these you may well affirm Non libri sed liberi; children now, +adopted into the circle, they shall be trafficked in never again. + +There is one exception which has sadly to be made -- one class of men, +of whom I would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are +strangers to any such scruples. These be Executors -- a word to be +strongly accented on the penultimate; for, indeed, they are the common +headsmen of collections, and most of all do whet their bloody edge for +harmless books. Hoary, famous old collections, budding young +collections, fair virgin collections of a single author -- all go down +before the executor's remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth +not. ``The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy,'' and it +is chiefly by the hand of the executor that she doth love to scatter +it. May oblivion be his portion for ever! + +Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most +insidious, because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is +the bookbinder. Not in that he bindeth books -- for the fair binding +is the final crown and flower of painful achievement -- but because he +bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse by and turn to months, and +the months to years, and still the binder bindeth not: and the heart +grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds her hair, +each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and +stream, and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice +whispereth: ``Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, full of +bread, with all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At gaming, +swearing, or about some act That hath no relish of salvation in it!'' +But when the deed is done, and the floor strewn with fragments of +binder -- still the books remain unbound. You have made all that +horrid mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden over +again. As a general rule, the man in the habit of murdering +bookbinders, though he performs a distinct service to society, only +wastes his own time and takes no personal advantage. + +And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in +leathern surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet +weathered the Cape and sailed into halcyon seas. For these books -- +well, you kept them many weeks before binding them, that the +oleaginous printer's-ink might fully dry before the necessary +hammering; you forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder +might refold the sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over -- +consummatum est -- still you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a +quiet mind. For these purple emperors are not to be read in bed, nor +during meals, nor on the grass with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief +periods are all the whirling times allow you for solid serious +reading. Still, after all, you have them; you can at least pulverise +your friends with the sight; and what have they to show against them? +Probably some miserable score or so of half-bindings, such as lead you +scornfully to quote the hackneyed couplet concerning the poor Indian +whose untutored mind clothes him before but leaves him bare behind. +Let us thank the gods that such things are: that to some of us they +give not poverty nor riches but a few good books in whole bindings. +Dowered with these and (if it be vouchsafed) a cup of Burgundy that is +sound even if it be not old, we can leave to others the foaming grape +of Eastern France that was vintaged in '74, and with it the whole +range of shilling shockers, -- the Barmecidal feast of the purposeful +novelist -- yea, even the countless series that tell of Eminent Women +and Successful Men. + +Loafing + +When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when Autumn +has been carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good fellows +who look upon holidays as a chief end of life return from moor and +stream and begin to take stock of gains and losses. And the wisest, +realising that the time of action is over while that of reminiscence +has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant with greater pleasures +than the other -- that action, indeed, is only the means to an end of +reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the Loafer stands apart +supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher as to the end, goes +straight to it at once; and his happy summer has accordingly been +spent in those subjective pleasures of the mind whereof the others, +the men of muscle and peeled faces, are only just beginning to taste. + +And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the +Loafer does not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they +are very necessary to him. For ``Suave mari magno'' is the motto of +your true Loafer; and it is chiefly by keeping ever in view the +struggles and the clamorous jostlings of the unenlightened making +holiday that he is able to realise the bliss of his own condition and +maintain his self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he never +very far away from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, +but hovers more or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star +amidst whirling constellations, he may watch the mad world ``glance, +and nod, and hurry by.'' + +There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of +Scotland. Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its +tranquil ``lucid interval'' between steamers, the ever recurrent throb +of paddle-wheel, the rush and foam of beaten water among the piles, +splash of ropes and rumble of gangways, and all the attendant hurry +and scurry of the human morrice. Here, tanquam in speculo, the Loafer +as he lounges may, by attorney as it were, touch gently every stop in +the great organ of the emotions of mortality. Rapture of meeting, +departing woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, indifference -- +he may experience them all, but attenuated and as if he saw them in a +dream; as if, indeed, he were Heine's god in dream on a mountain-side. +Let the drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, emanations of his +dream, will vanish into the nothing whence they came. And these +emotions may be renewed each morning; if a fair one sail to-day, be +sure that one as fair will land to-morrow. The supply is +inexhaustible. + +But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of +Father Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with +its blisters, perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the +bliss of ``quietism.'' I know one little village in the upper reaches +where loafing may be pushed to high perfection. Here the early hours +of the morning are vexed by the voices of boaters making their way +down the little street to the river. The most of them go staggering +under hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their voices are +clamant of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they will punt, +they will paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the Loafer +hears through the open door of his cottage, where in his shirt-sleeves +he is dallying with his bacon, as a gentleman should. He is the only +one who has had a comfortable breakfast -- and he knows it. Later he +will issue forth and stroll down in their track to the bridge. The +last of these Argonauts is pulling lustily forth; the river is dotted +with evanishing blazers. Upon all these lunatics a pitiless Phoebus +shines triumphant. The Loafer sees the last of them off the stage, +turns his back on it, and seeks the shady side of the street. + +A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed +away with shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of +somnolency is in evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, +let him respectfully greet each several village dog. Arcades ambo -- +loafers likewise -- they lie there in the warm dust, each outside his +own door, ready to return the smallest courtesy. Their own lords and +masters are not given to the exchange of compliments nor to greetings +in the market-place. The dog is generally the better gentleman, and he +is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, who is not too +proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the time of day. He +will mark his sense of this attention by rising from his dust-divan +and accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But he will stop +short of his neighbour's dust-patch; for the morning is really too hot +for a shindy. So, by easy stages (the street is not a long one: six +dogs will see it out), the Loafer quits the village; and now the world +is before him. Shall he sit on a gate and smoke? or lie on the grass +and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large along the road? Such a +choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last course is the +best -- as needing the least mental effort of selection. Hardly, +however, has he fairly started his first daydream when the snappish +``ting'' of a bellkin recalls him to realities. By comes the +bicyclist: dusty, sweating, a piteous thing to look upon. But the +irritation of the strepitant metal has jarred the Loafer's always +exquisite nerves: he is fain to climb a gate and make his way towards +solitude and the breezy downs. + +Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is +alone with the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of +larks and a tinkling from distant flocks break the brooding noonday +stillness; above, the wind-hover hangs motionless, a black dot on the +blue. Prone on his back on the springy turf, gazing up into the sky, +his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the spirit ranges at +will among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. Earth +no longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still ``spins like a fretful midge.'' The Loafer +knows not nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through golden +spaces of imagination his soul is winging her untrammelled flight. And +there he really might remain for ever, but that his vagrom spirit is +called back to earth by a gentle but resistless, very human summons, +-- a gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, thirst: a thirst to +thank Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, half of anticipation, +he bends his solitary steps towards the nearest inn. Tobacco for one +is good; to commune with oneself and be still is truest wisdom; but +beer is a thing of deity -- beer is divine. + +Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle +out he will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush +and the meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets +of even. The loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant +moan of the weir; his are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, +of the sunset-haunted surface. By-and-by the boaters will pass him +homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: his withers are unwrung. +Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset glories; no corporeal +pangs clog his sthesis -- his perceptive faculty. Some have +quarrelled in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; he is at +peace with himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay them down +in the little village that night, his sleep will be the surest and the +sweetest. For not even the blacksmith himself will have better claim +to have earned a night's repose. + +Cheap Knowledge + +When at times it happens to me that I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, +and to find the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core -- just +because, perhaps, I can't afford Melampus Brown's last volume of poems +in large paper, but must perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny +edition for the million -- then I bring myself to a right temper by +recalling to memory a sight which now and again in old days would +touch the heart of me to a happier pulsation. In the long, dark winter +evenings, outside some shop window whose gaslight flared brightest +into the chilly street, I would see some lad -- sometimes even a girl +-- book in hand, heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and +straining eyes, careless of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil +behind them and about, their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: +till the ruthless shopman turned out the gas and brought them rudely +back to the bitter reality of cramped legs and numbed fingers. ``My +brother!'' or ``My sister!'' I would cry inwardly, feeling the link +that bound us together. They possessed, for the hour, the two gifts +most precious to the student -- light and solitude: the true solitude +of the roaring street. + +Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries +have supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can +enter and call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon ``in luxury's +sofa-lap of leather''; and of course this boon is appreciated and +profited by, and we shall see the divine results in a year or two. And +yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the ``Red Lamp,'' ``I +wonder?'' + +For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely +wastes and dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the +feeling of restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these +other readers, ``all silent and all damned,'' combine to set up a +nervous irritation fatal to quiet study. Had I to choose, I would +prefer the windy street. And possibly others have found that the +removal of checks and obstacles makes the path which leads to the +divine mountain-tops less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So +full of human nature are we all -- still -- despite the Radical +missionaries that labour in the vineyard. Before the National Gallery +was extended and rearranged, there was a little ``St Catherine'' by +Pinturicchio that possessed my undivided affections. In those days she +hung near the floor, so that those who would worship must grovel; and +little I grudged it. Whenever I found myself near Trafalgar Square +with five minutes to spare I used to turn in and sit on the floor +before the object of my love, till gently but firmly replaced on my +legs by the attendant. She hangs on the line now, in the grand new +room; but I never go to see her. Somehow she is not my ``St +Catherine'' of old. Doubtless Free Libraries affect many students in +the same way: on the same principle as that now generally accepted -- +that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our social code which +make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. + +But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, +it remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or +two of Free Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world +most desiderates; and whether the spare reading and consequent fertile +thinking necessitated by the old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive +of sounder results. The cloyed and congested mind resulting from the +free run of these grocers' shops to omnivorous appetites (and all +young readers are omnivorous) bids fair to produce a race of literary +resurrection-men: a result from which we may well pray to be spared. +Of all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits the original +work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary +expression by pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer's boy of +letters is sure to prove a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be +fulfilling the programme of its advocates, is breeding such as he by +scores. + +But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation +may be drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would +appear that the patrons of these libraries are confining their +reading, with a charming unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed +they cannot do better; there is no more blessed thing on earth than a +good novel, not the least merit of which is that it induces a state of +passive, unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies the reader to go +out and put the world right. Next to fairy tales -- the original +world-fiction -- our modern novels may be ranked as our most precious +possessions; and so it has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully +pay my five shillings, or ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly +be, in the pound towards the Free Library: convinced at last that the +money is not wasted in training exponents of the subjectivity of this +writer and the objectivity of that, nor in developing fresh imitators +of dead discredited styles, but is righteously devoted to the support +of wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. + +The Rural Pan + +An April Essay + +Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside the +restless Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little +hoarse from bidding in the market. Further west, down classic +Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the lord of the unerring (satin) +bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in these latter years +float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts than these +the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that reaches +only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins +to blow a clearer note. + +When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities +will abroad too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this +that flieth up the reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the +day? Mercury is out -- some dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed +banks crumble and slide down under the wash of his rampant screw; his +wake is marked by a line of lobster-claws, gold-necked bottles, and +fragments of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may even be seen to +embrace the slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, in the +full gaze of the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime +reposeth, passively beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards' Club at +Maidenhead. Here, O Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity +subjectively inclined, he is neither objective nor, it must be said +for him, at all objectionable, like them of Mercury. + +Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural +Pan. In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may be +paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be looked +for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment. Or under the great +shadow of Streatley Hill, ``annihilating all that's made to a green +thought in a green shade''; or better yet, pushing an explorer's prow +up the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester's stately roof broods +over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these Pan sits and +dabbles, and all the air is full of the music of his piping. +Southwards, again, on the pleasant Surrey downs there is shouting and +jostling; dust that is drouthy and language that is sultry. Thither +comes the young Apollo, calmly confident as ever; and he meeteth +certain Mercuries of the baser sort, who do him obeisance, call him +captain and lord, and then proceed to skin him from head to foot as +thoroughly as the god himself flayed Marsyas in days of yore, at a +certain Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good instance of Time's revenges. +And yet Apollo returns to town and swears he has had a grand day. He +does so every year. Out of hearing of all the clamour, the rural Pan +may be found stretched on Ranmore Common, loitering under Abinger +pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the sinuous Mole, abounding +in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers the dab-chick and +water-rat. + +For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour +with a society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant +combination of Mtropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will urge +the horses of the Sun: and, if he leaveth the society weekly to +Mercury, yet he loveth well the Magazine. From which omphalos or hub +of the universe he will direct his shining team even to the far +Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron road and level highway +are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot it along the +sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with +feather and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is +unsocial. Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities, +he loveth the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are +adscripti gleb, addicted to the kindly soil and to the working +thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For he is +only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is strong. When +the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering inn, among +the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to appear at +times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or weather-beaten +shepherd from the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy he will then +impart, in the musical Wessex or Mercian he has learned to speak so +naturally; though it may not be till many a mile away that you begin +to suspect that you have unwittingly talked with him who chased the +flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of fight at Marathon. + +Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through -- east +and west, north and south -- bringing with it Commercialism, whose god +is Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams +with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and +chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part +is still spared -- how great these others fortunately do not know -- +in which the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet +a little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last +common, spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the +well-wisher to man -- whither? + +Marginalia + +American Hunt, in his suggestive ``Talks about Art,'' demands that the +child shall be encouraged -- or rather permitted, for the natural +child needs little encouragement -- to draw when- and whereon-soever +he can; for, says he, the child's scribbling on the margin of his +school-books is really worth more to him than all he gets out of them, +and indeed, ``to him the margin is the best part of all books, and he +finds in it the soothing influence of a clear sky in a landscape.'' +Doubtless Sir Benjamin Backbite, though his was not an artist soul, +had some dim feeling of this mighty truth when he spoke of that new +quarto of his, in which ``a neat rivulet of text shall meander through +a meadow of margin'': boldly granting the margin to be of superior +importance to the print. This metaphor is pleasantly expanded in +Burton's ``Bookhunter'': wherein you read of certain folios with +``their majestic stream of central print overflowing into rivulets of +marginal notes, sedgy with citations.'' But the good Doctor leaves the +main stream for a backwater of error in inferring that the chief use +of margins is to be a parading-ground for notes and citations. As if +they had not absolute value in themselves, nor served a finer end! In +truth, Hunt's child was vastly the wiser man. + +For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and +illustrate the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or ``tail'' edge, +the saurian, splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of old +Nile; up one side negroes, swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn +them, let fall their nerveless spears; up the other, monkeys, +gibbering with terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees -- a plant to the +untutored hand of easier outline than (say) your British oak. +Meanwhile, all over the unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the most +inadequate provocation, or Hannibal pursued his victorious career, +while Roman generals delivered ornate set speeches prior to receiving +the usual satisfactory licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal -- all alike were +pallid shades with faint, thin voices powerless to pierce the +distance. The margins of Cocytus doubtless knew them: mine were +dedicated to the more attractive flesh and blood of animal life, the +varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, in more practical mood, I +would stoop to render certain facts recorded in the text. To these +digressions I probably owe what little education I possess. For +example, there was one sentence in our Roman history: ``By this single +battle of Magnesia, Antiochus the Great lost all his conquests in Asia +Minor.'' Serious historians really should not thus forget themselves. +'Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, to transform ``battle'' into +``bottle''; for ``conquests'' one could substitute a word for which +not even Macaulay's school-boy were at a loss; and the result, +depicted with rude vigour in his margin, fixed the name of at least +one ancient fight on the illustrator's memory. But this plodding and +material art had small charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a +``clear sky'' ever through which I could sail away at will to more +gracious worlds. I was duly qualified by a painfully acquired +ignorance of dead languages cautiously to approach my own; and 'twas +no better. Along Milton's margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the +Arimaspian -- what a chance, that Arimaspian, for the imaginative +pencil! And so it has come about that, while Milton periods are mostly +effaced from memory by the sponge of Time, I can still see that +vengeful Gryphon, cousin-german to the gentle beast that danced the +Lobster Quadrille by a certain shore. + +It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins +is for pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and +crosses, nor (in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled +against the canticle for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent +pew: as used, alas! to happen in days when one was young and godless, +and went to church. Nor, again, are the margins of certain poets +entrusted to man for the composing thereon of infinitely superior +rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a depraved habit, +akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is the +absolute value of the margin itself -- a value frequently superior to +its enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and +takes care to get it in ``the little verses wot they puts inside the +crackers.'' The special popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to +epic verse is due to this habit of feeling. A good example maybe found +in the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is the better poetry, the +earlier remains the more popular -- because of its eloquence of +margin. Mr Tupper might long ago have sat with laureate brow but for +his neglect of this first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic +of the century, is pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full +meed of glory it deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote +``Beowulf,'' our other English epic, grasped the great fact from the +first, so that his work is much the more popular of the two. The moral +is evident. An authority on practical book-making has stated that +``margin is a matter to be studied''; also that ``to place the print +in the centre of the paper is wrong in principle, and to be +deprecated.'' Now, if it be ``wrong in principle,'' let us push that +principle to its legitimate conclusion, and ``deprecate'' the placing +of print on any part of the paper at all. Without actually suggesting +this course to any of our living bards, when, I may ask -- when shall +that true poet arise who, disdaining the trivialities of text, shall +give the world a book of verse consisting entirely of margin? How we +shall shove and jostle for large paper copies! + +The Eternal Whither + +There was once an old cashier in some ancient City establishment, +whose practice was to spend his yearly holiday in relieving some +turnpike-man at his post, and performing all the duties appertaining +thereunto. This was vulgarly taken to be an instance of mere +mill-horse enslavement to his groove -- the reception of payments; and +it was spoken of both in mockery of all mill-horses and for the due +admonishment of others. And yet that clerk had discovered for himself +an unique method of seeing Life at its best, the flowing, hurrying, +travelling, marketing Life of the Highway; the life of bagman and +cart, of tinker, and pig-dealer, and all cheery creatures that drink +and chaffer together in the sun. He belonged, above all, to the scanty +class of clear-seeing persons who know both what they are good for and +what they really want. To know what you would like to do is one thing; +to go out boldly and do it is another -- and a rarer; and the sterile +fields about Hell-Gate are strewn with the corpses of those who would +an if they could. + +To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one's soul, +it is possible to push one's disregard for convention too far: as is +seen in the case of another, though of an earlier generation, in the +same establishment. In his office there was the customary +``attendance-book,'' wherein the clerks were expected to sign each +day. Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from appearing; he +signs, indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little later, +writ in careful commercial hand, this entry: ``Mr --- did not attend +at his office to-day, having been hanged at eight o'clock in the +morning for horse-stealing.'' Through the faded ink of this record do +you not seem to catch, across the gulf of years, some waft of the +jolly humanity which breathed in this prince among clerks? A formal +precisian, doubtless, during business hours; but with just this honest +love of horseflesh lurking deep down there in him -- unsuspected, +sweetening the whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from his +desk, turning to pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still +striveth to bury his bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, +you may be sure, but from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the +same, he erred; erred, if not in taste, at least in judgment: for we +cannot entirely acquit him of blame for letting himself be caught. + +In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our +melancholy selves are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, +whereof our happier fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, +remains to us; but every one is not a collector; and, besides, 'tis a +diversion you can follow with equal success all the year round. Still, +the instance may haply be pregnant with suggestion to many who wearily +ask each year, what new place or pursuit exhausted earth still keeps +for the holiday-maker. 'Tis a sad but sober fact, that the most of men +lead flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with their family to +some flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a manner +that is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not +try crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular branch -- +for every one must himself seek out and find the path his nature best +fits him to follow; but the general charm of the prospect must be +evident to all. The freshness and novelty of secrecy, the artistic +satisfaction in doing the act of self-expression as well as it can +possibly be done; the experience of being not the hunter, but the +hunted, not the sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing and +discussing crimes with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return to +town; these new pleasures -- these and their like -- would furnish +just that gentle stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary +to the tired worker. And then the fact, that you would naturally have +to select and plan out your particular line of diversion without +advice or assistance, has its own advantage. For the moment a man +takes to dinning in your ears that you ought, you really ought, to go +to Norway, you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate that ever will +be; and to have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the Austrian +Tyrol jammed down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery +that your own individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking +for manslaughter. + +Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After +all, it is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less +culpable than their neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none +need really blush for in the present. For such as they there still +remains the example of the turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden +possibilities. Denied the great delight of driving a locomotive, or a +fire-engine -- whirled along in a glorious nimbus of smoke-pant, +spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar -- what bliss to the palefaced +quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! +Though turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be +taken on many a pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet +moments to tend the lock-keeper's flower-beds -- perhaps make love to +his daughter; anon in busier times to let the old gates swing, work +the groaning winches, and hear the water lap and suck and gurgle as it +slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; to dangle legs over +the side and greet old acquaintances here and there among the +parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not +on the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron +tetter that scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant +life of the road; but many of its best conditions still linger round +these old toll gates, free from dust and clatter, on the silent liquid +Highway to the West. + +These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the +Gift, the path is plain. + +Deus Terminus + +The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when he +needs must worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his +parcelling of the known world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide +here, and to that, Sit you down there, he could scarce fail to evolve +the god Terminus: visible witness of possession and dominion, type of +solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans of this latter day -- +so hailed by others, or complacently christened by ourselves -- are +Roman in nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less tangible +realms of thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the +statue which shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked +out, allotted, and done with; that such and such ramblings and +excursions are practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, +illegal, or absurd. And in this way we are left with naught but a +vague lingering tradition of the happier days before the advent of the +ruthless deity. + +The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each +autumn, regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; +banished by the matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly +where Lord A.'s shooting ends and Squire B.'s begins. Once, no such +petty limitations fettered the mind. A step into the woodland was a +step over the border -- the margin of the material; and then, good-bye +to the modern world of the land-agent and the ``Field'' advertisement! +A chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the peregrine, with +eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her jesses catching in +the boughs. 'Twas the favourite of the Princess, the windows of whose +father's castle already gleamed through the trees, where honours and +favours awaited the adventurous. The white doe sprang away through the +thicket, her snowy flank stained with blood; she made for the +enchanted cot, and for entrance you too had the pass-word. Did you +fail on her traces, nor fox nor mole was too busy to spare a moment +for friendly advice or information. Little hands were stretched to +trip you, fairy gibe and mockery pelted you from every rabbit-hole; +and O what Dryads you have kissed among the leaves, in that brief +blissful moment ere they hardened into tree! 'Tis pity, indeed, that +this sort of thing should have been made to share the suspicion +attaching to the poacher; that the stony stare of the boundary god +should confront you at the end of every green ride and rabbit-run; +while the very rabbits themselves are too disgusted with the altered +circumstances to tarry a moment for so much as to exchange the time of +day. + +Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something +a round belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden +era of princesses is past. For your really virtuous 'prentices there +still remain a merchant's daughter or two, and a bottle of port o' +Sundays on the Clapham mahogany. For the rest of us, one or two decent +clubs, and plenty of nice roomy lunatic asylums. ``Go spin, you jade, +go spin!'' is the one greeting for Imagination. And yet -- what a lip +the slut has! What an ankle! Go to: there's nobody looking; let us +lock the door, pull down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. + +'Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so +much is given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and +allotments that shall win back Astra. Our Labor Program stands for +evidence that the Board School, at least, has done enduring work; and +the useless race of poets is fast dying out. Though we no longer +conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed +when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of guineas galore) +awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more practical +research. ``Le monde marche,'' as Renan hath it, ``vers une sorte +d'americanisme.... Peut-tre la vulgarit gnrale sera-t-elle un jour +la condition du bonheur des lus. Nous n'avons pas le droit d'etre +fort difficiles.'' We will be very facile, then, since needs must; +remembering the good old proverb that ``scornful dogs eat dirty +puddings.'' But, ere we show Terminus the door, at least let us fling +one stone at the shrieking sulphureous houses of damnation erected as +temples in his honour, and dignified with his name! There, 'mid +clangour, dirt, and pestilence of crowding humanity, the very spirit +of worry and unrest sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad +fellow. His deity of demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew +the kindly touch of sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid +flowers and under blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on +this particular altar the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any +stain of gore. Our hour of sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it +does -- ( et haud procul absit!) -- let the offering be no bloodless +one, but let (for choice) a fat and succulent stationmaster smoke and +crackle on the altar of expiation! + +Of Smoking + +Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a certain +philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and pleasant +to indulge in, ``when you're not smoking''; wherein the whole +criticism of the cigarette is found, in a little room. Of the same +manner of thinking was one that I knew, who kept by him an ample case +bulging with cigarettes, to smoke while he was filling his pipe. Toys +they be verily, nug, and shadows of the substance. Serviceable, +nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the substance is +temporarily unattainable; as between the acts of a play, in the park, +or while dressing for dinner: that such moments may not be entirely +wasted. That cigarette, however, which is so prompt to appear after +dinner I would reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as enemy to that +diviner thing before which it should pale its ineffectual fires in +shame -- to wit, good drink, ``la dive bouteille''; except indeed when +the liquor be bad, as is sometimes known to happen. Then it may serve +in some sort as a sorry consolation. But to leave these airy +substitutes, and come to smoking. + +It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, +or that first pipe of the evening which ``Hesperus, who bringeth all +good things,'' brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is +smoked on a clearer palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss +of one's first love; but lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of +merit recompensed and the goal and the garland won, which clings to +the vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the majority give the palm to +the latter. To which I intend no slight when I find the incense that +arises at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, although +with most of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and +swinkers, the morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of +alarums and excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there +are certain halcyon periods sure to arrive -- Sundays, holidays, and +the like -- the whole joy and peace of which are summed up in that one +beatific pipe after breakfast, smoked in a careless majesty like that +of the gods ``when they lie beside their nectar, and the clouds are +lightly curled.'' Then only can we be said really to smoke. And so +this particular pipe of the day always carries with it festal +reminiscences: memories of holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; +a suggestion of sunny lawns and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense +withal of something free and stately, as of ``faint march-music in the +air,'' or the old Roman cry of ``Liberty, freedom, and +enfranchisement.'' + +If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker's ointment, it may be said to +lurk in the matter of ``rings.'' Only the exceptionally gifted smoker +can recline in his chair and emit at will the perfect smoke-ring, in +consummate eddying succession. He of the meaner sort must be content +if, at rare heaven-sent intervals -- while thinking, perhaps, of +nothing less -- there escape from his lips the unpremeditated flawless +circle. Then ``deus fio'' he is moved to cry, at that breathless +moment when his creation hangs solid and complete, ere the particles +break away and blend with the baser atmosphere. Nay, some will deny to +any of us terrene smokers the gift of fullest achievement: for what +saith the poet of the century? ``On the earth the broken arcs: in the +heaven the perfect round!'' + +It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins's +novels (if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will +take pleasure in scents derived from animal emanations, clarified +fats, and the like; yet do illogically abhor the ``clean, dry, +vegetable smell'' of tobacco. Herein the true base of the feminine +objection is reached; being, as usual, inherent want of logic rather +than any distaste, in the absolute, for the thing in question. +Thinking that they ought to dislike, they do painfully cast about for +reasons to justify their dislike, when none really exist. As a +specimen of their so-called arguments, I remember how a certain fair +one triumphantly pointed out to me that my dog, though loving me well, +could yet never be brought to like the smell of tobacco. To whom I, +who respected my dog (as Ben saith of Master Shakespeare) on this side +idolatry as much as anything, was yet fain to point out -- more in +sorrow than in anger -- that a dog, being an animal who delights to +pass his whole day, from early morn to dewy eve, in shoving his nose +into every carrion beastliness that he can come across, could hardly +be considered arbiter elegantiarum in the matter of smells. But indeed +I did wrong to take such foolish quibbling seriously; nor would I have +done so, if she hadn't dragged my poor innocent dog into the +discussion. + +Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity -- an +instance of that excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into +vice -- and couple it with dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify +themselves by argument. For if bed be by common consent the greatest +bliss, the divinest spot, on earth, ``ille terrarum qui prter omnes +angulus ridet''; and if tobacco be the true Herb of Grace, and a joy +and healing balm, and respite and nepenthe, -- if all this be +admitted, why are two things, super-excellent separately, noxious in +conjunction? And is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in pleasure +-- self indulgent perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of a new +``blend,'' reminding one of a certain traveller's account of an +intoxicant patronised in the South Sea Islands, which combines the +blissful effect of getting drunk and remaining sober to enjoy it? Yet +I shall not insist too much on this point, but would only ask -- so +long as the smoker be unwedded -- for some tolerance in the matter and +a little logic in the discussion thereof. + +Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within +common knowledge. 1 d., 2 d., nay even 4 d., is not too great a price, +if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of expense. In this +sort of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory and ostentation +than solid satisfaction; and its votaries would seem to display less a +calm, healthy affection for tobacco than (as Sir T. Browne hath it) a +``passionate prodigality.'' And, besides grievous wasting of the +pocket, atmospheric changes, varyings in the crops, and the like, +cause uncertainty to cling about each individual weed, so that man is +always more or less at the mercy of Nature and the elements -- an +unsatisfactory and undignified position in these latter days of the +Triumphant Democracy. But worst and fatallest of all, to every +cigar-smoker it is certain to happen that once in his life, by some +happy combination of time, place, temperament, and Nature -- by some +starry influence, maybe, or freak of the gods in mocking sport -- +once, and once only, he will taste the aroma of the perfect leaf at +just the perfect point -- the ideal cigar. Henceforth his life is +saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a dream, he goes thereafter, +as one might say, in a sort of love-sickness. Seeking he scarce knows +what, his existence becomes a dissatisfied yearning; the world is +spoiled for him, its joys are tasteless: so he wanders, +vision-haunted, down dreary days to some miserable end. + +Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be +done at comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman +motto, slightly altered -- Alieni appetens, sui avarus. There be +always good fellows, with good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the +boxes of these lie open; an the good cigar belongs rather to him that +can appreciate it aright than to the capitalist who, owing to a false +social system, happens to be its temporary guardian and trustee. Again +there is a saying -- bred first, I think, among the schoolmen at +Oxford -- that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father's +income. Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, +after the most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can +resolutely smoke his father's cigars. In the path of duty complete +success is not always to be looked for; but an approving conscience, +the sure reward of honest endeavour, is within reach of all. + +An Autumn Encounter + +For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through level +fields, till it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already golden +three-parts up with ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my inevitable +way; and now that home is almost in sight it seems hard that the last +part of the long day's sweltering and delightful tramp must needs be +haunted by that hateful speck, black on the effulgence of the slope. +Did I not know he was only a scarecrow, the thing might be in a way +companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing curiosity, +gilding this last weary stage with some magic of expectancy. But I +passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, he was already up +and doing, eager to introduce himself. He leered after me as I swung +down the road, -- mimicked my gait, as it seemed, in a most +uncalled-for way; and when I looked back, he was blowing derisive +kisses of farewell with his empty sleeve. + +I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the +morning's start and now; so it was annoying that he should force +himself on me, just when there was no getting rid of him. At this +distance, however, he might be anything. An indeterminate blot, it +seems to waver, to falter, to come and vanish again in the quivering, +heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on that familiar gate -- +are the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable? -- I used to +watch Her pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was +ridiculous, it was fatuous, under all the circumstances it was +monstrous, and yet{...}! We were both under twenty, so She was She, +and I was I, and there were only we three the wide world over, she and +I and the unbetraying gate. Porta eburnea! False visions alone sped +through you, though Cupid was wont to light on your topmost bar, and +preen his glowing plumes. And to think that I should see her once +more, coming down the path as if not a day had passed, hesitating as +of old, and then -- but surely her ankles seem -- Confound that +scarecrow!... + +His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, +which is as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a +new tack. Though here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an +evening breeze is playing briskly along the slope where he stands, and +one sleeve saws the air violently; the other is pointed stiffly +heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor friend! The sins of the +world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You have a mission, +you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. For man, +he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own particular +business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping it: +``Salvation, damnation, damnation, salvation!'' And the jolly earth +smiles in the perfect evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs all +round you, and one young rook (only fledged this year, too!), after an +excellent simulation of prostrate, heart-broken penitence, soars +joyously away, to make love to his neighbour's wife. ``Salvation, +damnation, damn -- '' A shifty wriggle of the road, and he is +transformed once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, holding +his lean sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and gurgle of +merriment. Ho, ho! what a joke it was! How I took you all in! Even the +rooks! What a joke is everything, to be sure! + +Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless mummer. +Fortunately I shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old dog +waxes amorous. Mincing, mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he +would fain pose as the most irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced +a metropolitan kerb. ``Love, you young dogs,'' he seems to croak, +``Love is the one thing worth living for! Enjoy your present, rooks +and all, as I do!'' Why, indeed, should he alone be insensible to the +golden influence of the hour? More than one supple waist (alas! for +universal masculine frailty!) has been circled by that tattered sleeve +in days gone by; a throbbing heart once beat where sodden straw now +fails to give a manly curve to the chest. Why should the coat survive, +and not a particle of the passion that inspired it long ago? + +At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins +recognition, completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a +significant glance under the slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm +points persistently and with intelligence up the road. My good fellow, +I know the way to the Dog and Duck as well as you do: I was going +there anyhow, without your officious interference -- and the beer, as +you justly remark, is unimpeachable. But was this really all you've +been trying to say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! + +The White Poppy + +A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses +heavy tresses with gipsy abandon; her sister of the sea-shore is +golden, a yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the spray. +Of another hue is the poppy of history, of romance, of the muse. White +as the stark death-shroud, pallid as the cheeks of that queen of a +silent land whose temples she languorously crowns, ghost-like beside +her fuller-blooded kin, she droops dream-laden, Papaver somniferum, +the poppy of the magic juice of oblivion. In the royal plenitude of +summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes seem but a red cry from +earth in memory of the many dews of battle that have drenched these +acres in years gone by, for little end but that these same ``bubbles +of blood'' might glow to-day; the yellow flower does but hint of the +gold that has dashed a thousand wrecks at her feet around these +shores: for happier suggestion we must turn to her of the pallid +petals, our white Lady of Consolation. Fitting hue to typify the +crowning blessing of forgetfulness! Too often the sable robes of night +dissemble sleeplessness, remorse, regret, self-questioning. Let black, +then, rather stand for hideous memory: white for blessed blank +oblivion, happiest gift of the gods! For who, indeed, can say that the +record of his life is not crowded with failure and mistake, stained +with its petty cruelties of youth, its meannesses and follies of later +years, all which storm and clamour incessantly at the gates of memory, +refusing to be shut out? Leave us alone, O gods, to remember our +felicities, our successes: only aid us, ye who recall no gifts, aptly +and discreetly to forget. + +Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for +happiness. In the minor matter, for instance, of small money +obligations, that shortness of memory which the school of Professors +Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, may often betray into some +unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject which shall pain the +delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser clay, shall +lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and +thereby to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as +Marcus Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral character. +This is to be a stumbling-block and an offence against the brethren. +It is better to keep just memory enough to avoid such hidden rocks and +shoals; in which thing Mr Swiveller is our great exemplar, whose +mental map of London was a chart wherein every creditor was carefully +``buoyed.'' + +The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to +the prayer -- and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to +think that we are the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our +friends, we can swear, have all, without exception, atrocious +memories; why is ours alone so hideously vital? Yet this isolation +must be imaginary; for even as we engage in this selfish moan for help +in our own petty case, we are moved to add a word for certain others +who, meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity's +already heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in +this world by the reckless ``recollections'' of dramatic and other +celebrities? You gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, +above all other sorts and conditions of men, these our poor erring +brothers and sisters, the sometime sommits of Mummerdom! + +Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: +when some subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even +some touch of a fresher air on your cheeks at night -- a breath of +``le vent qui vient travers la montagne'' -- have power to ravish, +to catch you back to the blissful days when you trod the one authentic +Paradise. Moments only, alas! Then the evil crowd rushes in again, +howls in the sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the happy garden; +and once more you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the white +poppy. And you envy your dog who, for full discharge of a present +benefaction having wagged you a hearty, expressive tail, will then +pursue it gently round the hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he +reaches it at last, and oblivion with it; every one of his half-dozen +diurnal sleeps being in truth a royal amnesty. + +But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita +blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but +this gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is +``grace and remembrance.'' The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a +nursling she hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a +``sorrow's crown of sorrow.'' What flowers are these her pale hand +offers? ``There's pansies, that's for thoughts!'' For me rather, O +dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness. + +A Bohemian in Exile + +A Reminiscence + +When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of +Bohemia gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were +found to chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the +fate of this or that once powerful chieftain who either donned the +swallow-tail and conformed or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet +retreat and died as he had lived, a Bohemian. But these were of the +princes of the land. To the people, the villeins, the common rank and +file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and pine, anmic, in +thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the scornful and +learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only ``the short and simple +annals of the poor.'' + +It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom +as a United States -- a collection of self-ruling guilds, +municipalities, or republics, bound together by a common method of +viewing life. ``There once was a king of Bohemia'' -- but that was a +long time ago, and even Corporal Trim was not certain in whose reign +it was. These small free States, then, broke up gradually, from +various causes and with varying speed; and I think ours was one of the +last to go. + +With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost leaders. ``Just +for a handful of silver he left us''; though it was not exactly that, +but rather that, having got the handful of silver, they wanted a wider +horizon to fling it about under than Bloomsbury afforded. + + So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, one by one -- + +But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their +success, and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. + +When old Pan was dead and Apollo's bow broken, there were many +faithful pagans who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to +the hills and caves, truer to the old gods in their discrowned +desolation than in their pomp and power. Even so were we left behind, +a remnant of the faithful. We had never expected to become great in +art or song; it was the life itself that we loved; that was our end -- +not, as with them, the means to an end. + + We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we; + Give us the glory of going on and still to be. + +Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had +changed, and we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. + +Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past +was dead, and he wasn't going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, too, +would be dead to Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man's +death, said ``he changed his life.'' This is how Fothergill changed +his life and died to Bloomsbury. One morning he made his way to the +Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. The Whitechapel +barrows are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by a boy with +half a dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall pony, such +as on Sundays take the members of a club to Epping Forest. They are +all precisely the same in plan and construction, only in the larger +sizes the handles develop or evolve into shafts; and they are equally +suitable, according to size, for the vending of whelks, for a +hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for the conveyance of a cheery and +numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a medium sized +``developed'' one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it painted white, +picked out with green -- the barrow, not the donkey -- and when his +arrangements were complete, stabled the whole for the night in +Bloomsbury. The following morning, before the early red had quite +faded from the sky, the exodus took place, those of us who were left +being assembled to drink a parting whisky-and-milk in sad and solemn +silence. Fothergill turned down Oxford Street, sitting on the shaft +with a short clay in his mouth, and disappeared from our sight, +heading west at a leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives by way +of the Bayswater Road. + +They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, +from the fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It +seems that eventually, his style of living being economical, he was +enabled to put down his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a +mare -- no fashionable gipsy-cart, a sort of houseboat on wheels, but +a light and serviceable cart, with a moveable tilt, constructed on his +own designs. This allowed him to take along with him a few canvases +and other artists' materials; soda-water, whisky, and such like +necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if +he wanted to. + +He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to +Streatley one afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long +ramble on the glorious North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before +dinner. Somewhere over on Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the +Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, I found him, smoking his +vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare cropping the short +grass beside him. He greeted me without surprise or effusion, as if we +had only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion to past +times, but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three years, +and, without ever telling his story right out, left a strange +picturesque impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated +by fifty years from modern conventional existence. The old road-life +still lingered on in places, it seemed, once one got well away from +the railway: there were two Englands existing together, the one +fringing the great iron highways wherever they might go -- the England +under the eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, in +whatever places were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as +of old: the England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of +by-lanes and village-greens -- the England of Parson Adams and +Lavengro. The spell of the free untrammelled life came over me as I +listened, till I was fain to accept of his hospitality and a +horse-blanket for the night, oblivious of civilised comforts down at +the Bull. On the downs where Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing +up at the quiet stars that had shone on many a Dane lying stark and +still a thousand years ago; and in the silence of the lone tract that +enfolded us we seemed nearer to those old times than to these I had +left that afternoon, in the now hushed and sleeping valley of the +Thames. + +When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill's aunt had +died and left him her house near town and the little all she had +possessed, I heard it with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For the +house had been his grandfather's, and he had spent much of his boyhood +there; it had been a dream of his early days to possess it in some +happy future, and I knew he could never bear to sell or let it. On the +other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the desert? And will not the +caged eagle mope and pine? + +However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for +the time. The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the +mare turned out to grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all +seeming, with ``a book of verses underneath the bough,'' and a bottle +of old claret for the friend who might chance to drop in. But as the +year wore on small signs began to appear that he who had always +``rather hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak'' was beginning to +feel himself caged, though his bars were gilded. + +I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three +men-servants), and he told me that of a Sunday morning when the +household had gone to church and everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill +would go into the coach-house and light his pipe, and sit on the step +of the brougham (he had a brougham now), and gaze at the old cart, and +smoke and say nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He didn't like +it, the coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. + +One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was +wakened by a flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft +through the open window; the first magic suggestion of spring was +abroad, with its whispered hints of daffodils and budding hawthorns; +and one's blood danced to imagined pipings of Pan from happy fields +far distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a certain +foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as +possible. It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master +was missing. In the very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the +earliest under-housemaid had begun to set man-traps on the stairs and +along the passages, he must have quietly left the house. The servants +were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and thought the master must only +have ``gone for a nice long walk,'' and so on, after the manner of +their kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. Sure +enough, the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the paddock. +It was no good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild haunter of +tracks and by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I kept my own +counsel. Fothergill never returned to Holly Lodge, and has been more +secret and evasive since his last flight, rarely venturing on old +camping grounds near home, like to a bird scared by the fowler's gun. + +Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry +known as the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens +of which I was tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; +hearing in an old village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart +who neither carried samples nor pushed the brewing interest by other +means than average personal consumption -- tales already beginning to +be distorted into material for the myth of the future. I found him +friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. As the evening wore +on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly Lodge; but his +air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had passed +out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even +tenor of his nomadic existence. + +After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he +might, with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; +certainly, I think, an artistic one. He had great powers, had any +impulse been present to urge him to execution and achievement. But he +was for none of these things. Contemplative, receptive, with a keen +sense of certain sub-tones and side aspects of life unseen by most, he +doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own way, and to gather from +the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor spend them in +toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. + + Some for the glories of this life, and some + Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come: + Ah, take the cash and let the credit go, + Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum. + +Justifiable Homicide + +This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; so he +cannot be said to ask too much who seeks for exact information as to +how a young man ought, in justice to himself and to society, to deal +with his relations. During his minority he has lain entirely at their +mercy: has been their butt, their martyr, their drudge, their corpus +vile. Possessing all the sinews of war, this stiff-necked tribe has +consistently refused to ``part'': even for the provision of those +luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its members have +crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral maxims, +and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively suspected at +the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, to be utterly +worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the tocsin has sounded +at last, and the Gaul is at the gate, they still appear to think that +the old condition of things is to go on; unconscious, apparently, of +atonement due, of retribution to be exacted, of wrongs to be avenged +and of insults to be wiped away! + +Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs +not, the artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for +relatives who neglect or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it +was who found himself compelled to reprove an uncle with an +unfortunate habit of squandering the family estate. An excellent +relative, this uncle, in all other respects. As a liar, he had few +equals; he robbed with taste and discretion; and his murders were all +imbued with true artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old +age of spotless respectability but for his one little failing. As it +was, justice had to be done, ruat clum: and so it came about that one +day the nephew issued forth to correct him with a matchlock. The +innocent old man was cultivating his paternal acres; so the nephew was +able, unperceived, to get a steady sight on him. His finger was on the +trigger, when suddenly there slipped into his mind the divine precept: +``Allah is merciful!'' He lowered his piece, and remained for a little +plunged in thought; meanwhile the unconscious uncle hoed his paddy. +Then with a happy smile he took aim once more, for there also occurred +to him the precept equally divine: ``But Allah is also just.'' With an +easy conscience he let fly, and behold! there was an uncle the more in +Paradise. + +It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that +constrained a recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for +leave of absence: in order to attend to family matters of importance. +The Colonel knew it was small use refusing the leave, as in that case +his recruit would promptly desert; so he could only ask, how long was +the transaction like to take? It was told him, after consideration, +that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a month would +meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he allowed +his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His +Colonel ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business +in question were satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: ``I got him +from behind a rock.'' + +There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such +methods at home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these +free and happy sons of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are +left us still: averse from change, mistrustful of progress, sticking +steadily to the good old-fashioned dagger and bowl. I had a friend who +disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles were his special line -- +(he had suffered much from their tribe, having been early left an +orphan) -- though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when +he was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or +two. But it was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning +of his career) a large number of these connections, and pursuit of +them, from the mere sordid point of view of s. d., proved lucrative. +But he always protested (and I believed him) that gain with him was a +secondary consideration. It would hardly be in the public interest to +disclose his modus operandi. I shall only remark that he was one of +the first to realise the security and immunity afforded the artist by +the conditions of modern London. Hence it happened that he usually +practised in town, but spent his vacations at the country houses of +such relations as were still spared him, where he was always the life +and soul of the place. Unfortunately he is no longer with us, to +assist in the revision of this article: nor was it permitted me to +soothe his last moments. The presiding Sheriff was one of those +new-fangled officials who insist on the exclusion of the public, and +he declined to admit me either in the capacity of a personal +connection or, though I tried my hardest, as the representative of +``The National Observer.'' It only remains to be said of my much-tried +and still lamented friend, that he left few relatives to mourn his +untimely end. + +But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march +of Time, and my poor friend's Art (as himself in later years would +sorrowfully admit) is now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of +old, or ``Robbia's craft so apt and strange''; while our thin-blooded +youth, too nice for the joyous old methods, are content to find +sweetest revenge in severely dropping their relations. This is indeed +a most effective position: it exasperates, while it is unassailable. +And yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. Not mere +forgiveness: it is simple duty to forgive -- even one's guardians. No +young man of earnest aspirations will be content to stop there. Nay: +lead them on, these lost ones, by the hand; conduct them ``generously +and gently, and with linking of the arm''; educate them, eradicate +their false ideals, dispel their foolish prejudices; be to their +faults a little blind and to their virtues very kind: in fine, realise +that you have a mission -- that these wretches are not here for +nothing. The task will seem hard at first; but only those who have +tried can know how much may be done by assiduous and kindly effort +towards the chastening -- ay! the final redemption even! -- of the +most hopeless and pig-headed of uncles. + +The Fairy Wicket + +From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times historical, +all dotted with date and number and sign, how exquisite the relief in +turning to the dear days outside history -- yet not so very far off +neither for us nurslings of the northern sun -- when kindly beasts +would loiter to give counsel by the wayside, and a fortunate encounter +with one of the Good People was a surer path to Fortune and the Bride +than the best-worn stool that ever proved step-ladder to aspiring +youth. For then the Fairy Wicket stood everywhere ajar -- everywhere +and to each and all. ``Open, open, green hill!'' -- you needed no more +recondite sesame than that: and, whoever you were, you might have a +glimpse of the elfin dancers in the hall that is litten within by +neither sun nor moon; or catch at the white horse's bridle as the +Fairy Prince rode through. It has been closed now this many a year +(the fairies, always strong in the field, are excellent +wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, 'tis but for a moment's +mockery of the material generation that so deliberately turned its +back on the gap into Elf-Land -- that first stage to the Beyond. + +It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play +on a small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, +uncomfortable outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the +feathers whereinto he was wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the +arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove him to Nature for redress; and, +under an alien sky, he would go forth and wander along the iron road +by impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those hitherto a part of +him and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus loitering with +overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead -- that, sure, is +not all unfamiliar? That row of elms -- it cannot entirely be accident +that they range just so? And, if not accident, then round the bend +will come the old duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a +few yards on will be the gate -- it swings-to with its familiar click +-- the dogs race down the avenue -- and then -- and then! It is all +wildly fanciful; and yet, though knowing not Tertullian, a ``credo +quia impossibile'' is on his tongue as he quickens his pace -- for +what else can he do? A step, and the spell is shattered -- all is +cruel and alien once more; while every copse and hedge-row seems +a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter. The Fairies have had their joke: +they have opened the wicket one of their own hand's-breadths, and shut +it in their victim's face. When next that victim catches a fairy, he +purposes to tie up the brat in sight of his own green hill, and set +him to draw up a practical scheme for Village Councils. + +One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old +fashion, was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the +people: ``I'd like to be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I'd like to +be a fairy, And wear short close!'' And in later life it is to her sex +that the wee (but very wise) folk sometimes delegate their power of +torment. Such understudies are found to play the part exceeding well; +and many a time the infatuated youth believes he sees in the depth of +one sole pair of eyes -- blue, brown, or green (the fairy colour) -- +the authentic fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time must he hear the +quaint old formula, ``I'm sure, if I've ever done anything to lead you +to think,'' etc (runs it not so?), ere he shall realise that here is +the gate upon no magic pleasance but on a cheap suburban villa, +banging behind the wrathful rate-collector or hurled open to speed the +pallid householder to the Registrar's Office. In still grosser +habitations, too, they lurk, do the People of Mischief, ready to +frolic out on the unsuspecting one: as in the case, which still haunts +my memory, of a certain bottle of an historic Chteau-Yquem, hued like +Venetian glass, odorous as a garden in June. Forth from out the faint +perfume of this haunted drink there danced a bevy from Old France, +clad in the fashion of Louis-Quinze, peach-coloured knots of ribbon +bedizening apple-green velvets, as they moved in stately wise among +the roses of the old garden, to the quaint music -- Rameau, was it? -- +of a fairy cornemuse, while fairy Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat +and painted them. Alas! too shallow the bottle, too brief the brawls: +not to be recalled by any quantity of Green Chartreuse. + +Aboard the Galley + +He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told me this +tale), when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange fleet, whose +like he had not before seen. For each little craft was a corpse, +stiffly ``marlined,'' or bound about with tarred rope, as mariners do +use to treat plug tobacco: also ballasted, and with a fair mast and +sail stepped through his midriff. These self-sufficing ships knew no +divided authority: no pilot ever took the helm from the captain's +hands; no mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained of the +provisions. In a certain island to windward (the native pilot +explained) it was the practice, when a man died, to bury him for the +time being in dry, desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his +people, when the waiting bodies were brought out and, caulked and +rigged secumdum artem, were launched with the first fair breeze, the +admiral at their head, on their voyage to the Blessed Islands. And if +a chief should die, and the sand should hold no store of corpses for +his escort, this simple practical folk would solve the little +difficulty by knocking some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, +that the notable might voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant +little company, running before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, +all bound for the Isles of Light! 'Twas a sight to shame us sitters at +home, who believe in those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are +content to trundle City-wards or to Margate, so long as the sorry +breath is in us; and, breathless at last, to Bow or Kensal Green; +without one effort, dead or alive, to reach the far-shining +Hesperides. + +``Dans la galre, capitane, nous tions quatre-vingt rameurs!'' sang +the oarsmen in the ballad; and they, though indeed they toiled on the +galley-bench, were free and happy pirates, members of an honoured and +liberal profession. But all we -- pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, +whatever our calling -- are but galley-slaves of the basest sort, +fettered to the oar each for his little spell. A common misery links +us all, like the chain that runs the length of the thwarts. Can +nothing make it worth our while not to quarrel with our fellows? The +menace of the storms is for each one and for all: the master's whip +has a fine impartiality. Crack! the lash that scored my comrade's back +has flicked my withers too; yet neither of us was shirking -- it was +that grinning ruffian in front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the +evasion shall be ours, while he writhes howling. But why do we never +once combine -- seize on the ship, fling our masters into the sea, and +steer for some pleasant isle far down under the Line, beyond the +still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho for feasting! Hey for tobacco and +free-quarters! But no: the days pass, and are reckoned up, and done +with; and ever more pressing cares engage. Those fellows on the +leeward benches are having an easier time than we poor dogs on the +weather side? Then, let us abuse, pelt, vilify then: let us steal +their grub, and have at them generally for a set of shirking, +malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they may be to +windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know this well, +the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we like them none +the worse for it. + +Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile +phrases in the honour of these whipmasters of ours -- as ``omnes eodem +cogimur,'' and the rest; which is all very pretty and mighty +consoling. The fact is, the poets are the only people who score by the +present arrangement; which it is therefore their interest to maintain. +While we are doing all the work, these incorrigible skulkers lounge +about and make ribald remarks; they write Greek tragedies on Fate, on +the sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, and so on; and act in a +generally offensive way. And we are even weak enough to buy their +books; offer them drinks, peerages, and things; and say what +superlative fellows they are! But when the long-looked-for combination +comes, and we poor devils have risen and abolished fate, destiny, the +Olympian Council, early baldness, and the like, these poets will +really have to go. + +And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up +with our relations? True members of the ``stupid party,'' who never +believe in us, who know (and never forget) the follies of our +adolescence; who are always wanting us not to do things; who are +lavish of advice, yet angered by the faintest suggestion of a small +advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish and these endure? No: +as soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to the sharks +with our relations! + +The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The +Sportsman of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over -- first, his +game, and then the miserable being he button-holes for the tedious +recital. Shall we suffer him longer? Who else? Who is that cowering +under the bulwarks yonder? The man who thinks he can imitate the +Scottish accent! Splash! And the next one? What a crowd is here! How +they block the hatchways, lumber the deck, and get between you and the +purser's room -- these fadmongers, teetotallers, missionaries of +divers isms! Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate Isles! +Then for tobacco in a hammock 'twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled +in a brooklet losing itself in silver sands! Then for -- but O these +bilboes on our ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun +blisters the bare back: faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to +flicker like Northern Lights across the stark and pitiless sky. One +earnest effort would do it, my brothers! A little modesty, a short +sinking of private differences; and then we should all be free and +equal gentlemen of fortune, and I would be your Captain! ``Who? you? +you would make a pretty Captain!'' Better than you, you scurvy, +skulking, little galley-slave! ``Galley-slave yourself, and be --- +Pull together, boys, and lie low! Here's the Master coming with his +whip!'' + +The Lost Centaur + +It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the great +volume of ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured from +babyhood by the wise and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence an +ideal of human skill and wisdom blent with all that was best and +noblest of animal instinct, strength and swiftness, found poor +humanity sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth among his +pottering little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto +fancied to be the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the +lords of earth even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: +below, shod with the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the +potentiality of the armed heel. Instead of which -- ! How fallen was +his first fair hope of the world! And even when reconciled at last to +the dynasty of the forked radish, after he had seen its quality tested +round the clangorous walls of Troy -- some touch of an imperial +disdain ever lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could +contentedly hail him -- him, who had known Cheiron! -- as hero and +lord! + +Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling +lingers. + +Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, +reaching back ``through spaces out of space and timeless time,'' +somewhere joins us to the Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly +base. As we grow from our animal infancy, and the threads snap one by +one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul poising for flight into +Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every gain, we have some +forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we to ``let +the ape and tiger die''; but the pleasant cousins dissembled in hide +and fur and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last vile folk, +indeed, exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly offend by +always carrying the Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their tails. +Others -- happily of less didactic dispositions -- there be; and it is +to these unaffected, careless companions that the sensible child is +wont to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, tame +creatures claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, while +cheerfully admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his +inferiority at every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected +earthwards, he essays to sniff it with the terrier who (as becomes the +nobler animal) is leading in the chase; and he is ready to weep as he +realises his loss. And the rest of the Free Company, -- the pony, the +cows, the great cart-horses, -- are ever shaming him by their +unboastful exercise of some enviable and unattainable attribute. Even +the friendly pig, who (did but parents permit) should eat of his bread +and drink of his cup, and be unto him as a brother, -- which among all +these unhappy bifurcations, so cheery, so unambitious, so purely +contented, so apt to be the guide, philosopher, and friend of boyhood +as he? What wonder that at times, when the neophyte in life begins to +realise that all these desirable accomplishments have had to be +surrendered one by one in the process of developing a Mind, the course +of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is wont -- not knowing the +extent of the kingdom to which he is heir -- to feel a little +discontented? + +Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is +already ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom +the submerged human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted moments. +He, the peevish and irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty +domesticities, is linked to us by little but his love of melody; but +for which saving grace, the hair would soon creep up from thigh to +horn of him. At times he will still do us a friendly turn: will lend a +helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own +salvation; will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon plain. +But in the main his sympathies are first for the beast: to which his +horns are never horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever natural and +familiar, and his voice (with its talk of help and healing) not harsh +nor dissonant, but voice of very brother as well as very god. + +And this declension -- for declension it is, though we achieve all the +confidences of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant argot +of the woods -- may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us of our +primal cousins to draw us down. On the other hand, let soul inform and +irradiate body as it may, the threads are utterly shorn asunder never: +nor is man, the complete, the self-contained, permitted to cut himself +wholly adrift from these his poor relations. The mute and stunted +human embryo that gazes appealingly from out the depths of their eyes +must ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) closer. Nay, at +times, it must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As thus: ``Was it +really necessary, after all, that we two should part company so early? +May you not have taken a wrong turning somewhere, in your long race +after your so-called progress, after the perfection of this be-lauded +species of yours? A turning whose due avoidance might perhaps have +resulted in no such lamentable cleavage as is here, but in some +perfect embodiment of the dual nature: as who should say a being with +the nobilities of both of us, the basenesses of neither? So might you, +more fortunately guided, have been led at last up the green sides of +Pelion, to the ancestral, the primeval, Centaur still waiting majestic +on the summit!'' It is even so. Perhaps this thing might once have +been, O cousin outcast and estranged! But the opportunity was long +since lost. Henceforth, two ways for us for ever! + +Orion + +The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is steely-clear. High and +dominant amidst the Populations of the Sky, the restless and the +steadfast alike, hangs the great Plough, lit with a hard radiance as +of the polished and shining share. And yonder, low on the horizon, but +half resurgent as yet, crouches the magnificent hunter: watchful, +seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of menace in his port. + +Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has +passed since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing +forest and draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and +Sunday schools, with the chains that are forged of peace, the irking +fetters of plenty: driving also the whole lot of us, these to sweat at +its tail, those to plod with the patient team, but all to march in a +great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order and law: while the +happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his pleasing +nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children +of the Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in +right case to forget that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon +withal. Where, then, does he hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, here, +my brother, and here; deep in the breasts of each and all of us! And +for this drop of primal quicksilver in the blood what poppy or +mandragora shall purge it hence away? + +Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith +they brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against +accepted maxims and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of +course, this fitful stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a +natural craving for a seat on a high stool, for the inscription -- now +horizontal, and now vertical -- of figures, is sin. But the deskmen +command a temporary majority: for the short while they shall hold the +cards they have the right to call the game. And so -- since we must +bow to the storm -- let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other +Salvation -- for a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a +matter of nomenclature. What we have now first to note is that this +original Waft from the Garden asserts itself most vigorously in the +Child. This it is that thrusts the small boy out under the naked +heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an islet in the +duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after the +gipsy's van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to +the pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the +tingling blood of her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides +along that shining highway to the dim land east o' the sun and west o' +the moon: where freedom is, and you can wander and breathe, and at +night tame street lamps there are none -- only the hunter's fires, and +the eyes of lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years it is +stifled and gagged -- buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and +on its heart a stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up +and out when 'tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief +summers gone, who was missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a +goodly portly man, i' faith: and had a villa and a steam launch at +Surbiton: and was versed in the esoteric humours of the House. Who +could have thought that the Hunter lay hid in him? Yet, after many +weeks, they found him in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, sun-burnt, +the nocturnal haystack calling aloud from his frayed and +weather-stained duds, his trousers tucked, he was tickling trout with +godless native urchins; and when they would have won him to himself +with honied whispers of American Rails, he answered but with babble of +green fields. He is back in his wonted corner now: quite cured, +apparently, and tractable. And yet -- let the sun shine too wantonly +in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, quick with the warm +South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to the station; and +will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, truly: and next +time he will not be caught. + +Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have +hushed the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have ``come tripping +doon the stair,'' rapt by the climbing passion from their +strawberry-leaved surroundings into starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, +too -- the douce, respectable mediocrities that we are -- which of us +but might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are mercifully +unknown to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What +marvel that up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one +in his ken, the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast +and gone forth on its irresistible appeal! + +Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes +of the horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate suburbs +creep ever farther into the retreating fields; and when you reach the +windy moorland, lo! it is all staked out into building-lots. Mud is +muddier now than heretofore; and ruts are ruttier. And what friendless +old beast comes limping down the dreary lane? He seems sorely shrunk +and shoulder-shotten; but by the something of divinity in his look, +still more than by the wings despondent along his mighty sides, 'tis +ever the old Pegasus -- not yet the knacker's own. ``Hard times I've +been having,'' he murmurs, as you rub his nose. ``These fellows have +really no seat except for a park hack. As for this laurel, we were +wont to await it trembling: and in taking it we were afraid. Your +English way of hunting it down with yelpings and hallooings -- well, I +may be out of date, but we wouldn't have stood that sort of thing on +Helicon.'' So he hobbles down the road. Good night, old fellow! Out of +date? Well, it may be so. And alas! the blame is ours. + +But for the Hunter -- there he rises -- couchant no more. Nay, flung +full stretch on the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his +turn, then, really come at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal +ruin, all levelling, whelming the County Councillor with the +Music-hall artiste, obliterating the very furrows of the Plough, shall +the skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more loose the +whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet -- look up! Look +up and behold him confident, erect, majestic -- there on the threshold +of the sky! + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PAGAN PAPERS *** + +This file should be named pagan10.txt or pagan10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, pagan11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, pagan10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/pagan10.zip b/old/pagan10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..07906fc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pagan10.zip diff --git a/old/pagan10h.htm b/old/pagan10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0a5c09 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pagan10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2321 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40/loose.dtd"> + +<html> +<head> + <TITLE>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pagan Papers by Kenneth Grahame</TITLE> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +</head> + +<body> + +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pagan Papers by Kenneth Grahame</h1> +<pre> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Pagan Papers + +Author: Kenneth Grahame + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5319] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 30, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PAGAN PAPERS *** + +</pre> +<cite>Pagan Papers</cite> was first published in 1893 and the text is +in the public domain. This is a reprint of the first American edition +of 1898. The transcription was done by <a +href="mailto:info@sattre-press.com">William McClain</a>, 2002. + +<p>A printed version of this book is available from <a +href="http://pagan_papers.sattre-press.com">Sattre Press</a>. It +includes a glossary of French and Latin phrases. + +<hr> + +<strong>The Romance of the Road</strong> + + +<p>Among the many places of magic visited by Pantagruel and +his company during the progress of their famous voyage, few surpass +that island whose roads did literally ``go'' to places -- <em> +``ou les chemins cheminent, comme animaulx''</em>: and would-be +travellers, having inquired of the road as to its destination, and +received satisfactory reply, <em> ``se guindans''</em> (as the old +book hath it -- hoisting themselves up on) <em> ``au chemin +opportun, sans aultrement se poiner ou fatiguer, se trouvoyent au lieu +destiné.''</em> + +<p>The best example I know of an approach to this excellent sort of +vitality in roads is the Ridgeway of the North Berkshire Downs. Join +it at Streatley, the point where it crosses the Thames; at once it +strikes you out and away from the habitable world in a splendid, +purposeful manner, running along the highest ridge of the Downs a +broad green ribbon of turf, with but a shade of difference from the +neighbouring grass, yet distinct for all that. No villages nor +homesteads tempt it aside or modify its course for a yard; should you +lose the track where it is blent with the bordering turf or merged in +and obliterated by criss-cross paths, you have only to walk straight +on, taking heed of no alternative to right or left; and in a minute +'tis with you again -- arisen out of the earth as it were. Or, if still +not quite assured, lift you your eyes, and there it runs over the brow +of the fronting hill. Where a railway crosses it, it disappears +indeed -- hiding Alpheus-like, from the ignominy of rubble and +brick-work; but a little way on it takes up the running again with the +same quiet persistence. Out on that almost trackless expanse of +billowy Downs such a track is in some sort humanly companionable: it +really seems to lead you by the hand. + +<p>The ``Rudge'' is of course an exceptional instance; but indeed this +pleasant personality in roads is not entirely fanciful. It exists as a +characteristic of the old country road, evolved out of the primitive +prehistoric track, developing according to the needs of the land it +passes through and serves: with a language, accordingly, and a meaning +of its own. Its special services are often told clearly enough; but +much else too of the quiet story of the country-side: something of the +old tale whereof you learn so little from the printed page. Each is +instinct, perhaps, with a separate suggestion. Some are martial and +historic, and by your side the hurrying feet of the dead raise a +ghostly dust. The name of yon town -- with its Roman or Saxon suffix to +British root -- hints at much. Many a strong man, wanting his <em> +vates sacer,</em> passed silently to Hades for that suffix to obtain. The +little rise up yonder on the Downs that breaks their straight green +line against the sky showed another sight when the sea of battle +surged and beat on its trampled sides; and the Roman, sore beset, may +have gazed down this very road for relief, praying for night or the +succouring legion. This child that swings on a gate and peeps at you +from under her sun-bonnet -- so may some girl-ancestress of hers have +watched with beating heart the Wessex levies hurry along to clash with +the heathen and break them on the down where the ash trees grew. And +yonder, where the road swings round under gloomy overgrowth of +drooping boughs -- is that gleam of water or glitter of lurking spears? + +<p>Some sing you pastorals, fluting low in the hot sun between dusty +hedges overlooked by contented cows; past farmsteads where man and +beast, living in frank fellowship, learn pleasant and serviceable +lessons each of the other; over the full-fed river, lipping the +meadow-sweet, and thence on either side through leagues of hay. Or +through bending corn they chant the mystical wonderful song of the +reaper when the harvest is white to the sickle. But most of them, +avoiding classification, keep each his several tender significance; as +with one I know, not so far from town, which woos you from the valley +by gentle ascent between nut-laden hedges, and ever by some touch of +keen fragrance in the air, by some mystery of added softness under +foot -- ever a promise of something to come, unguessed, +delighting. Till suddenly you are among the pines, their keen scent +strikes you through and through, their needles carpet the ground, and +in their swaying tops moans the unappeasable wind -- sad, ceaseless, as +the cry of a warped humanity. Some paces more, and the promise is +fulfilled, the hints and whisperings become fruition: the ground +breaks steeply away, and you look over a great inland sea of fields, +homesteads, rolling woodland, and -- bounding all, blent with the +horizon, a greyness, a gleam -- the English Channel. A road of +promises, of hinted surprises, following each other with the +inevitable sequence in a melody. + +<p>But we are now in another and stricter sense an island of <em> chemins +qui cheminent:</em> dominated, indeed, by them. By these the traveller, +veritably <em> se guindans,</em> may reach his destination <em> +``sans se poiner ou se fatiguer''</em> (with large qualifications); +but <em> sans</em> very much else whereof he were none the worse. The gain +seems so obvious that you forget to miss all that lay between the +springing stride of the early start and the pleasant weariness of the +end approached, when the limbs lag a little as the lights of your +destination begin to glimmer through the dusk. All that lay between! +``A Day's Ride a Life's Romance'' was the excellent title of an +unsuccessful book; and indeed the journey should march with the day, +beginning and ending with its sun, to be the complete thing, the +golden round, required of it. This makes that mind and body fare +together, hand in hand, sharing the hope, the action, the fruition; +finding equal sweetness in the languor of aching limbs at eve and in +the first god-like intoxication of motion with braced muscle in the +sun. For walk or ride take the mind over greater distances than a +throbbing whirl with stiffening joints and cramped limbs through a +dozen counties. Surely you seem to cover vaster spaces with Lavengro, +footing it with gipsies or driving his tinker's cart across lonely +commons, than with many a globe-trotter or steam-yachtsman with diary +or log? And even that dividing line -- strictly marked and rarely +overstepped -- between the man who bicycles and the man who walks, is +less due to a prudent regard for personal safety of the one part than +to an essential difference in minds. + +<p>There is a certain supernal, a deific, state of mind which may indeed +be experienced in a minor degree, by any one, in the siesta part of a +Turkish bath. But this particular golden glow of the faculties is only +felt at its fulness after severe and prolonged exertion in the open +air. ``A man ought to be seen by the gods,'' says Marcus Aurelius, +``neither dissatisfied with anything, nor complaining.'' Though this +does not sound at first hearing an excessive demand to make of +humanity, yet the gods, I fancy, look long and often for such a sight +in these unblest days of hurry. If ever seen at all, 'tis when after +many a mile in sun and wind -- maybe rain -- you reach at last, with the +folding star, your destined rustic inn. There, in its homely, +comfortable strangeness, after unnumbered chops with country ale, the +hard facts of life begin to swim in a golden mist. You are isled from +accustomed cares and worries -- you are set in a peculiar nook of rest. +Then old failures seem partial successes, then old loves come back in +their fairest form, but this time with never a shadow of regret, then +old jokes renew their youth and flavour. You ask nothing of the gods +above, nothing of men below -- not even their company. To-morrow you +shall begin life again: shall write your book, make your fortune, do +anything; meanwhile you sit, and the jolly world swings round, and you +seem to hear it circle to the music of the spheres. What pipe was ever +thus beatifying in effect? You are aching all over, and enjoying it; +and the scent of the limes drifts in through the window. This is +undoubtedly the best and greatest country in the world; and none but +good fellows abide in it. + +<p><blockquote> + Laud we the Gods,<br> +And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils<br> +From our blest altars.<br> +</blockquote> + + +<p><strong>The Romance of the Rail</strong> + + +<p>In these iron days of the dominance of steam, the crowning wrong that +is wrought us of furnace and piston-rod lies in their annihilation of +the steadfast mystery of the horizon, so that the imagination no longer +begins to work at the point where vision ceases. In happier times, +three hundred years ago, the seafarers from Bristol City looked out +from the prows of their vessels in the grey of the morning, and wot +not rightly whether the land they saw might be Jerusalem or +Madagascar, or if it were not North and South America. +``And there be certaine flitting islands,'' says one, +``which have been oftentimes seene, and when men +approached near them they vanished.'' ``It may be that the gulfs +will wash us down,'' said Ulysses (thinking of what Americans call the +``getting-off place''); ``it may be we shall touch the Happy +Isles.'' And so on, and so on; each with his special hope or +``wild surmise.'' There was always a chance of touching the Happy +Isles. And in that first fair world whose men and manners we knew +through story-books, before experience taught us far other, the Prince +mounts his horse one fine morning, and rides all day, and sleeps in a +forest; and next morning, lo! a new country: and he rides by fields +and granges never visited before, through faces strange to him, to +where an unknown King steps down to welcome the mysterious +stranger. And he marries the Princess, and dwells content for many a +year; till one day he thinks ``I will look upon my father's face +again, though the leagues be long to my own land.'' And he rides all +day, and sleeps in a forest; and next morning he is made welcome at +home, where his name has become a dim memory. Which is all as it +should be; for, annihilate time and space as you may, a man's stride +remains the true standard of distance; an eternal and unalterable +scale. The severe horizon, too, repels the thoughts as you gaze to the +infinite considerations that lie about, within touch and hail; and the +night cometh, when no man can work. + +<p>To all these natural bounds and limitations it is good to get back now +and again, from a life assisted and smooth by artificialities. Where +iron has superseded muscle, the kindly life-blood is apt to throb dull +as the measured beat of the steam-engine. But the getting back to them +is now a matter of effort, of set purpose, a stepping aside out of our +ordinary course; they are no longer unsought influences towards the +making of character. So perhaps the time of them has gone by, here in +this second generation of steam. <em> Pereunt et imputantur;</em> they +pass away, and are scored against not us but our guilty fathers. For +ourselves, our peculiar slate is probably filling fast. The romance +of the steam-engine is yet to be captured and expressed -- not fully +nor worthily, perhaps, until it too is a vanished regret; though +Emerson for one will not have it so, and maintains and justifies its +right to immediate recognition as poetic material. ``For as it is +dislocation and detachment from the life of God that makes things +ugly, the poet, who re-attaches things to Nature and the +whole -- re-attaching even artificial things and violations of Nature +to Nature by a deeper insight -- disposes very easily of the most +disagreeable facts''; so that he looks upon ``the factory village +and the railway'' and ``sees them fall within the great Order not +less than the bee-hive or the spider's geometrical web.'' The poet, +however, seems hard to convince hereof. Emerson will have it that +``Nature loves the gliding train of cars''; ``instead of +which'' the poet still goes about the country singing purling +brooks. Painters have been more flexible and liberal. Turner saw and +did his best to seize the spirit of the thing, its kinship with the +elements, and to blend furnace-glare and rush of iron with the +storm-shower, the wind and the thwart-flashing sun-rays, and to make +the whole a single expression of irresoluble force. And even in a +certain work by another and a very different painter -- though I +willingly acquit Mr Frith of any deliberate romantic intention -- you +shall find the element of romance in the vestiges of the old order +still lingering in the first transition period: the coach-shaped +railway carriages with luggage piled and corded on top, the red-coated +guard, the little engine tethered well ahead as if between traces. To +those bred within sight of the sea, steamers will always partake in +somewhat of the ``beauty and mystery of the ships''; above all, if +their happy childhood have lain among the gleaming lochs and sinuous +firths of the Western Highlands, where, twice a week maybe, the +strange visitant crept by headland and bay, a piece of the busy, +mysterious outer world. For myself, I probably stand alone in owning +to a sentimental weakness for the night-piercing whistle -- +judiciously remote, as some men love the skirl of the pipes. In the +days when streets were less wearily familiar than now, or ever the +golden cord was quite loosed that led back to relinquished fields and +wider skies, I have lain awake on stifling summer nights, thinking of +luckier friends by moor and stream, and listening for the whistles +from certain railway stations, veritable ``horns of Elf-land, +faintly blowing.'' Then, a ghostly passenger, I have taken my seat in a +phantom train, and sped up, up, through the map, rehearsing the +journey bit by bit: through the furnace-lit Midlands, and on till the +grey glimmer of dawn showed stone walls in place of hedges, and masses +looming up on either side; till the bright sun shone upon brown +leaping streams and purple heather, and the clear, sharp northern air +streamed in through the windows. Return, indeed, was bitter; +Endymion-like, ``my first touch of the earth went nigh to kill'': +but it was only to hurry northwards again on the wings of imagination, +from dust and heat to the dear mountain air. ``We are only the +children who might have been,'' murmured Lamb's dream babes to him; and +for the sake of those dream-journeys, the journeys that might have +been, I still hail with a certain affection the call of the engine in +the night: even as I love sometimes to turn the enchanted pages of the +railway a b c, and pass from one to the other name +reminiscent or suggestive of joy and freedom, Devonian maybe, or +savouring of Wessex, or bearing me away to some sequestered reach of +the quiet Thames. + +<p><strong>Non Libri Sed Liberi</strong> + + +<p>It will never be clear to the lay mind why the book-buyer buys books. +That it is not to read them is certain: the closest inspection always +fails to find him thus engaged. He will talk about them -- all night if +you let him -- wave his hand to them, shake his fist at them, shed +tears over them (in the small hours of the morning); but he will not +read them. Yet it would be rash to infer that he buys his books +without a remote intention of ever reading them. Most book lovers +start with the honest resolution that some day they will ``shut +down on'' this fatal practice. Then they purpose to themselves to enter +into their charmed circle, and close the gates of Paradise behind +them. Then will they read out of nothing but first editions; every day +shall be a debauch in large paper and tall copies; and crushed morocco +shall be familiar to their touch as buckram. Meanwhile, though, books +continue to flaunt their venal charms; it would be cowardice to shun +the fray. In fine, one buys and continues to buy; and the promised +Sabbath never comes. + +<p>The process of the purchase is always much the same, therein +resembling the familiar but inferior passion of love. There is the +first sight of the Object, accompanied of a catching of the breath, a +trembling in the limbs, loss of appetite, ungovernable desire, and a +habit of melancholy in secret places. But once possessed, once toyed +with amorously for an hour or two, the Object (as in the inferior +passion aforesaid) takes its destined place on the shelf -- where it +stays. And this saith the scoffer, is all; but even he does not fail +to remark with a certain awe that the owner goeth thereafter as one +possessing a happy secret and radiating an inner glow. Moreover, he is +insufferably conceited, and his conceit waxeth as his coat, now +condemned to a fresh term of servitude, groweth shabbier. And shabby +though his coat may be, yet will he never stoop to renew its pristine +youth and gloss by the price of any book. No man -- no human, +masculine, natural man -- ever sells a book. Men have been known in +moments of thoughtlessness, or compelled by temporary necessity, to +rob, to equivocate, to do murder, to commit what they should not, to +``wince and relent and refrain'' from what they should: these +things, howbeit regrettable, are common to humanity, and may happen to +any of us. But amateur bookselling is foul and unnatural; and it is +noteworthy that our language, so capable of particularity, contains no +distinctive name for the crime. Fortunately it is hardly known to +exist: the face of the public being set against it as a flint -- and +the trade giving such wretched prices. + +<p>In book-buying you not infrequently condone an extravagance by the +reflection that this particular purchase will be a good investment, +sordidly considered: that you are not squandering income but sinking +capital. But you know all the time that you are lying. Once possessed, +books develop a personality: they take on a touch of warm human life +that links them in a manner with our kith and kin. <em> Non angli sed +Angeli</em> was the comment of a missionary (old style) on the small human +duodecimos exposed for sale in the Roman market-place; and many a +buyer, when some fair-haired little chattel passed into his +possession, must have felt that here was something vendible no more. +So of these you may well affirm <em> Non libri sed liberi;</em> children +now, adopted into the circle, they shall be trafficked in never again. + +<p>There is one exception which has sadly to be made -- one class of men, +of whom I would fain, if possible, have avoided mention, who are +strangers to any such scruples. These be Executors -- a word to be +strongly accented on the penultimate; for, indeed, they are the common +headsmen of collections, and most of all do whet their bloody edge for +harmless books. Hoary, famous old collections, budding young +collections, fair virgin collections of a single author -- all go down +before the executor's remorseless axe. He careth not and he spareth +not. ``The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy,'' +and it is chiefly by the hand of the executor that she doth love to +scatter it. May oblivion be his portion for ever! + +<p>Of a truth, the foes of the book-lover are not few. One of the most +insidious, because he cometh at first in friendly, helpful guise, is +the bookbinder. Not in that he bindeth books -- for the fair binding is +the final crown and flower of painful achievement -- but because he +bindeth not: because the weary weeks lapse by and turn to months, and +the months to years, and still the binder bindeth not: and the heart +grows sick with hope deferred. Each morn the maiden binds her hair, +each spring the honeysuckle binds the cottage-porch, each autumn the +harvester binds his sheaves, each winter the iron frost binds lake and +stream, and still the bookbinder he bindeth not. Then a secret voice +whispereth: ``Arise, be a man, and slay him! Take him grossly, +full of bread, with all his crimes broad-blown, as flush as May; At +gaming, swearing, or about some act That hath no relish of salvation +in it!'' But when the deed is done, and the floor strewn with fragments +of binder -- still the books remain unbound. You have made all that +horrid mess for nothing, and the weary path has to be trodden over +again. As a general rule, the man in the habit of murdering +bookbinders, though he performs a distinct service to society, only +wastes his own time and takes no personal advantage. + +<p>And even supposing that after many days your books return to you in +leathern surcoats bravely tricked with gold, you have scarce yet +weathered the Cape and sailed into halcyon seas. For these +books -- well, you kept them many weeks before binding them, that the +oleaginous printer's-ink might fully dry before the necessary +hammering; you forbore to open the pages, that the autocratic binder +might refold the sheets if he pleased; and now that all is over -- <em> +consummatum est</em> -- still you cannot properly enjoy the harvest of a +quiet mind. For these purple emperors are not to be read in bed, nor +during meals, nor on the grass with a pipe on Sundays; and these brief +periods are all the whirling times allow you for solid serious +reading. Still, after all, you have them; you can at least pulverise +your friends with the sight; and what have they to show against them? +Probably some miserable score or so of half-bindings, such as lead you +scornfully to quote the hackneyed couplet concerning the poor Indian +whose untutored mind clothes him before but leaves him bare +behind. Let us thank the gods that such things are: that to some of us +they give not poverty nor riches but a few good books in whole +bindings. Dowered with these and (if it be vouchsafed) a cup of +Burgundy that is sound even if it be not old, we can leave to others +the foaming grape of Eastern France that was vintaged in '74, and with +it the whole range of shilling shockers, -- the Barmecidal feast of the +purposeful novelist -- yea, even the countless series that tell of +Eminent Women and Successful Men. + + +<p><strong>Loafing</strong> + + +<p>When the golden Summer has rounded languidly to his close, when +Autumn has been carried forth in russet winding-sheet, then all good +fellows who look upon holidays as a chief end of life return from moor +and stream and begin to take stock of gains and losses. And the +wisest, realising that the time of action is over while that of +reminiscence has begun, realise too that the one is pregnant with +greater pleasures than the other -- that action, indeed, is only the +means to an end of reflection and appreciation. Wisest of all, the +Loafer stands apart supreme. For he, of one mind with the philosopher +as to the end, goes straight to it at once; and his happy summer has +accordingly been spent in those subjective pleasures of the mind +whereof the others, the men of muscle and peeled faces, are only just +beginning to taste. + +<p>And yet though he may a little despise (or rather pity) them, the +Loafer does not dislike nor altogether shun them. Far from it: they +are very necessary to him. For <em> ``Suave mari magno''</em> is the +motto of your true Loafer; and it is chiefly by keeping ever in view +the struggles and the clamorous jostlings of the unenlightened making +holiday that he is able to realise the bliss of his own condition and +maintain his self-satisfaction at boiling-point. And so is he never +very far away from the track beaten by the hurrying Philistine hoof, +but hovers more or less on the edge of it, where, the sole fixed star +amidst whirling constellations, he may watch the mad world +``glance, and nod, and hurry by.'' + +<p>There are many such centres of contemplation along the West Coast of +Scotland. Few places are better loafing-ground than a pier, with its +tranquil ``lucid interval'' between steamers, the ever recurrent +throb of paddle-wheel, the rush and foam of beaten water among the +piles, splash of ropes and rumble of gangways, and all the attendant +hurry and scurry of the human morrice. Here, <em> tanquam in speculo,</em> +the Loafer as he lounges may, by attorney as it were, touch gently +every stop in the great organ of the emotions of mortality. Rapture of +meeting, departing woe, love at first sight, disdain, laughter, +indifference -- he may experience them all, but attenuated and as if he +saw them in a dream; as if, indeed, he were Heine's god in dream on a +mountain-side. Let the drowsy deity awake and all these puppets, +emanations of his dream, will vanish into the nothing whence they +came. And these emotions may be renewed each morning; if a fair one +sail to-day, be sure that one as fair will land to-morrow. The supply +is inexhaustible. + +<p>But in the South perhaps the happiest loafing-ground is the gift of +Father Thames; for there again the contrast of violent action, with +its blisters, perspiration, and the like, throws into fine relief the +bliss of ``quietism.'' I know one little village in the upper +reaches where loafing may be pushed to high perfection. Here the +early hours of the morning are vexed by the voices of boaters making +their way down the little street to the river. The most of them go +staggering under hampers, bundles of waterproofs, and so forth. Their +voices are clamant of feats to be accomplished: they will row, they +will punt, they will paddle, till they weary out the sun. All this the +Loafer hears through the open door of his cottage, where in his +shirt-sleeves he is dallying with his bacon, as a gentleman should. He +is the only one who has had a comfortable breakfast -- and he knows +it. Later he will issue forth and stroll down in their track to the +bridge. The last of these Argonauts is pulling lustily forth; the +river is dotted with evanishing blazers. Upon all these lunatics a +pitiless Phoebus shines triumphant. The Loafer sees the last of +them off the stage, turns his back on it, and seeks the shady side of +the street. + +<p>A holy calm possesses the village now; the foreign element has passed +away with shouting and waving of banners, and its natural life of +somnolency is in evidence at last. And first, as a true Loafer should, +let him respectfully greet each several village dog. <em> Arcades +ambo</em> -- loafers likewise -- they lie there in the warm dust, each +outside his own door, ready to return the smallest courtesy. Their own +lords and masters are not given to the exchange of compliments nor to +greetings in the market-place. The dog is generally the better +gentleman, and he is aware of it; and he duly appreciates the loafer, +who is not too proud to pause a moment, change the news, and pass the +time of day. He will mark his sense of this attention by rising from +his dust-divan and accompanying his caller some steps on his way. But +he will stop short of his neighbour's dust-patch; for the morning is +really too hot for a shindy. So, by easy stages (the street is not a +long one: six dogs will see it out), the Loafer quits the village; and +now the world is before him. Shall he sit on a gate and smoke? or lie +on the grass and smoke? or smoke aimlessly and at large along the +road? Such a choice of happiness is distracting; but perhaps the last +course is the best -- as needing the least mental effort of +selection. Hardly, however, has he fairly started his first daydream +when the snappish ``ting'' of a bellkin recalls him to +realities. By comes the bicyclist: dusty, sweating, a piteous thing to +look upon. But the irritation of the strepitant metal has jarred the +Loafer's always exquisite nerves: he is fain to climb a gate and make +his way towards solitude and the breezy downs. + +<p>Up here all vestiges of a sordid humanity disappear. The Loafer is +alone with the south-west wind and the blue sky. Only a carolling of +larks and a tinkling from distant flocks break the brooding noonday +stillness; above, the wind-hover hangs motionless, a black dot on the +blue. Prone on his back on the springy turf, gazing up into the sky, +his fleshy integument seems to drop away, and the spirit ranges at +will among the tranquil clouds. This way Nirvana nearest lies. Earth +no longer obtrudes herself; possibly somewhere a thousand miles or so +below him the thing still ``spins like a fretful midge.'' The +Loafer knows not nor cares. His is now an astral body, and through +golden spaces of imagination his soul is winging her untrammelled +flight. And there he really might remain for ever, but that his +vagrom spirit is called back to earth by a gentle but resistless, very +human summons, -- a gradual, consuming, Pantagruelian, god-like, +thirst: a thirst to thank Heaven on. So, with a sigh half of regret, +half of anticipation, he bends his solitary steps towards the nearest +inn. Tobacco for one is good; to commune with oneself and be still is +truest wisdom; but beer is a thing of deity -- beer is divine. + +<p>Later the Loafer may decently make some concession to popular taste by +strolling down to the river and getting out his boat. With one paddle +out he will drift down the stream: just brushing the flowering rush +and the meadow-sweet and taking in as peculiar gifts the varied sweets +of even. The loosestrife is his, and the arrow-head: his the distant +moan of the weir; his are the glories, amber and scarlet and silver, +of the sunset-haunted surface. By-and-by the boaters will pass him +homeward-bound. All are blistered and sore: his withers are +unwrung. Most are too tired and hungry to see the sunset glories; no +corporeal pangs clog his <em> æsthesis</em> -- his perceptive faculty. +Some have quarrelled in the day and are no longer on speaking terms; +he is at peace with himself and with the whole world. Of all that lay +them down in the little village that night, his sleep will be the +surest and the sweetest. For not even the blacksmith himself will have +better claim to have earned a night's repose. + + +<p><strong>Cheap Knowledge</strong> + + +<p>When at times it happens to me that I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, +and to find the fair apple of life dust and ashes at the core -- just +because, perhaps, I can't afford Melampus Brown's last volume of poems +in large paper, but must perforce condescend upon the two-and-sixpenny +edition for the million -- then I bring myself to a right temper by +recalling to memory a sight which now and again in old days would +touch the heart of me to a happier pulsation. In the long, dark winter +evenings, outside some shop window whose gaslight flared brightest +into the chilly street, I would see some lad -- sometimes even a +girl -- book in hand, heedless of cold and wet, of aching limbs and +straining eyes, careless of jostling passers-by, of rattle and turmoil +behind them and about, their happy spirits far in an enchanted world: +till the ruthless shopman turned out the gas and brought them rudely +back to the bitter reality of cramped legs and numbed +fingers. ``My brother!'' or ``My sister!'' I would cry +inwardly, feeling the link that bound us together. They possessed, for +the hour, the two gifts most precious to the student -- light and +solitude: the true solitude of the roaring street. + +<p>Somehow this vision rarely greets me now. Probably the Free Libraries +have supplanted the flickering shop lights; and every lad and lass can +enter and call for Miss Braddon and batten thereon ``in luxury's +sofa-lap of leather''; and of course this boon is appreciated and +profited by, and we shall see the divine results in a year or two. And +yet sometimes, like the dear old Baron in the ``Red Lamp,'' +``I wonder?'' + +<p>For myself, public libraries possess a special horror, as of lonely +wastes and dragon-haunted fens. The stillness and the heavy air, the +feeling of restriction and surveillance, the mute presence of these +other readers, ``all silent and all damned,'' combine to set up a +nervous irritation fatal to quiet study. Had I to choose, I would +prefer the windy street. And possibly others have found that the +removal of checks and obstacles makes the path which leads to the +divine mountain-tops less tempting, now that it is less rugged. So +full of human nature are we all -- still -- despite the Radical +missionaries that labour in the vineyard. Before the National Gallery +was extended and rearranged, there was a little ``St Catherine'' +by Pinturicchio that possessed my undivided affections. In those days +she hung near the floor, so that those who would worship must grovel; +and little I grudged it. Whenever I found myself near Trafalgar Square +with five minutes to spare I used to turn in and sit on the floor +before the object of my love, till gently but firmly replaced on my +legs by the attendant. She hangs on the line now, in the grand new +room; but I never go to see her. Somehow she is not my +``St Catherine'' of old. Doubtless Free Libraries affect many +students in the same way: on the same principle as that now generally +accepted -- that it is the restrictions placed on vice by our social +code which make its pursuit so peculiarly agreeable. + +<p>But even when the element of human nature has been fully allowed for, +it remains a question whether the type of mind that a generation or +two of Free Libraries will evolve is or is not the one that the world +most desiderates; and whether the spare reading and consequent fertile +thinking necessitated by the old, or gas-lamp, style is not productive +of sounder results. The cloyed and congested mind resulting from the +free run of these grocers' shops to omnivorous appetites (and all +young readers are omnivorous) bids fair to produce a race of literary +resurrection-men: a result from which we may well pray to be +spared. Of all forms of lettered effusiveness that which exploits the +original work of others and professes to supply us with right opinions +thereanent is the least wanted. And whether he take to literary +expression by pen or only wag the tongue of him, the grocer's boy of +letters is sure to prove a prodigious bore. The Free Library, if it be +fulfilling the programme of its advocates, is breeding such as he by +scores. + +<p>But after all there is balm in Gilead; and much joy and consolation +may be drawn from the sorrowful official reports, by which it would +appear that the patrons of these libraries are confining their +reading, with a charming unanimity, exclusively to novels. And indeed +they cannot do better; there is no more blessed thing on earth than a +good novel, not the least merit of which is that it induces a state of +passive, unconscious enjoyment, and never frenzies the reader to go +out and put the world right. Next to fairy tales -- the original +world-fiction -- our modern novels may be ranked as our most precious +possessions; and so it has come to pass that I shall now cheerfully +pay my five shillings, or ten shillings, or whatever it may shortly +be, in the pound towards the Free Library: convinced at last that the +money is not wasted in training exponents of the subjectivity of this +writer and the objectivity of that, nor in developing fresh imitators +of dead discredited styles, but is righteously devoted to the support +of wholesome, honest, unpretending novel-reading. + +<p><strong>The Rural Pan</strong> + +<p>An April Essay + + +<p>Through shady Throgmorton Street and about the vale of Cheapside +the restless Mercury is flitting, with furtive eye and voice a little +hoarse from bidding in the market. Further west, down classic +Piccadilly, moves the young Apollo, the lord of the unerring (satin) +bow; and nothing meaner than a frock-coat shall in these latter years +float round his perfect limbs. But remote in other haunts than these +the rural Pan is hiding, and piping the low, sweet strain that reaches +only the ears of a chosen few. And now that the year wearily turns and +stretches herself before the perfect waking, the god emboldened begins +to blow a clearer note. + +<p>When the waking comes at last, and Summer is abroad, these deities +will abroad too, each as his several attributes move him. Who is this +that flieth up the reaches of the Thames in steam-launch hired for the +day? Mercury is out -- some dozen or fifteen strong. The flower-gemmed +banks crumble and slide down under the wash of his rampant screw; his +wake is marked by a line of lobster-claws, gold-necked bottles, and +fragments of veal-pie. Resplendent in blazer, he may even be seen to +embrace the slim-waisted nymph, haunter of green (room) shades, in the +full gaze of the shocked and scandalised sun. Apollo meantime +reposeth, passively beautiful, on the lawn of the Guards' Club at +Maidenhead. Here, O Apollo, are haunts meet for thee. A deity +subjectively inclined, he is neither objective nor, it must be said +for him, at all objectionable, like them of Mercury. + +<p>Meanwhile, nor launches nor lawns tempt him that pursueth the rural +Pan. In the hushed recesses of Hurley backwater where the canoe may +be paddled almost under the tumbling comb of the weir, he is to be +looked for; there the god pipes with freest abandonment. Or under the +great shadow of Streatley Hill, ``annihilating all that's made to +a green thought in a green shade''; or better yet, pushing an +explorer's prow up the remote untravelled Thame, till Dorchester's +stately roof broods over the quiet fields. In solitudes such as these +Pan sits and dabbles, and all the air is full of the music of his +piping. Southwards, again, on the pleasant Surrey downs there is +shouting and jostling; dust that is drouthy and language that is +sultry. Thither comes the young Apollo, calmly confident as ever; and +he meeteth certain Mercuries of the baser sort, who do him obeisance, +call him captain and lord, and then proceed to skin him from head to +foot as thoroughly as the god himself flayed Marsyas in days of yore, +at a certain Spring Meeting in Phrygia: a good instance of Time's +revenges. And yet Apollo returns to town and swears he has had a grand +day. He does so every year. Out of hearing of all the clamour, the +rural Pan may be found stretched on Ranmore Common, loitering under +Abinger pines, or prone by the secluded stream of the sinuous Mole, +abounding in friendly greetings for his foster-brothers the dab-chick +and water-rat. + +<p>For a holiday, Mercury loveth the Pullman Express, and a short hour +with a society paper; anon, brown boots on the pier, and the pleasant +combination of Métropole and Monopole. Apollo for his part will +urge the horses of the Sun: and, if he leaveth the society weekly to +Mercury, yet he loveth well the Magazine. From which <em>omphalos</em> +or hub of the universe he will direct his shining team even to the far +Hesperides of Richmond or of Windsor. Both iron road and level highway +are shunned by the rural Pan, who chooses rather to foot it along the +sheep track on the limitless downs or the thwart-leading footpath +through copse and spinney, not without pleasant fellowship with +feather and fir. Nor does it follow from all this that the god is +unsocial. Albeit shy of the company of his more showy brother-deities, +he loveth the more unpretentious humankind, especially them that are +<em> adscripti glebæ,</em> addicted to the kindly soil and to the +working thereof: perfect in no way, only simple, cheery sinners. For +he is only half a god after all, and the red earth in him is +strong. When the pelting storm drives the wayfarers to the sheltering +inn, among the little group on bench and settle Pan has been known to +appear at times, in homely guise of hedger-and-ditcher or +weather-beaten shepherd from the downs. Strange lore and quaint fancy +he will then impart, in the musical Wessex or Mercian he has learned +to speak so naturally; though it may not be till many a mile away that +you begin to suspect that you have unwittingly talked with him who +chased the flying Syrinx in Arcady and turned the tide of fight at +Marathon. + +<p>Yes: to-day the iron horse has searched the country through -- east and +west, north and south -- bringing with it Commercialism, whose god is +Jerry, and who studs the hills with stucco and garrotes the streams +with the girder. Bringing, too, into every nook and corner fashion and +chatter, the tailor-made gown and the eyeglass. Happily a great part +is still spared -- how great these others fortunately do not know -- in +which the rural Pan and his following may hide their heads for yet a +little longer, until the growing tyranny has invaded the last common, +spinney, and sheep-down, and driven the kindly god, the well-wisher to +man -- whither? + +<p><strong>Marginalia</strong> + + +<p>American Hunt, in his suggestive ``Talks about Art,'' +demands that the child shall be encouraged -- or rather permitted, for +the natural child needs little encouragement -- to draw when- and +whereon-soever he can; for, says he, the child's scribbling on the +margin of his school-books is really worth more to him than all he +gets out of them, and indeed, ``to him the margin is the best +part of all books, and he finds in it the soothing influence of a +clear sky in a landscape.'' Doubtless Sir Benjamin Backbite, though his +was not an artist soul, had some dim feeling of this mighty truth when +he spoke of that new quarto of his, in which ``a neat rivulet of +text shall meander through a meadow of margin'': boldly granting the +margin to be of superior importance to the print. This metaphor is +pleasantly expanded in Burton's ``Bookhunter'': wherein you read +of certain folios with ``their majestic stream of central print +overflowing into rivulets of marginal notes, <em> sedgy with +citations.</em>'' But the good Doctor leaves the main stream for a +backwater of error in inferring that the chief use of margins is to be +a parading-ground for notes and citations. As if they had not absolute +value in themselves, nor served a finer end! In truth, Hunt's child +was vastly the wiser man. + +<p>For myself, my own early margins chiefly served to note, cite, and +illustrate the habits of crocodiles. Along the lower or ``tail'' +edge, the saurian, splendidly serrated as to his back, arose out of +old Nile; up one side negroes, swart as sucked lead-pencil could limn +them, let fall their nerveless spears; up the other, monkeys, +gibbering with terror, swarmed hastily up palm-trees -- a plant to the +untutored hand of easier outline than (say) your British +oak. Meanwhile, all over the unregarded text Balbus slew Caius on the +most inadequate provocation, or Hannibal pursued his victorious +career, while Roman generals delivered ornate set speeches prior to +receiving the usual satisfactory licking. Fabius, Hasdrubal -- all +alike were pallid shades with faint, thin voices powerless to pierce +the distance. The margins of Cocytus doubtless knew them: mine were +dedicated to the more attractive flesh and blood of animal life, the +varied phases of the tropic forest. Or, in more practical mood, I +would stoop to render certain facts recorded in the text. To these +digressions I probably owe what little education I possess. For +example, there was one sentence in our Roman history: ``By this +single battle of Magnesia, Antiochus the Great lost all his conquests +in Asia Minor.'' Serious historians really should not thus forget +themselves. 'Twas so easy, by a touch of the pen, to transform +``battle'' into ``bottle''; for ``conquests'' +one could substitute a word for which not even Macaulay's school-boy +were at a loss; and the result, depicted with rude vigour in his +margin, fixed the name of at least one ancient fight on the +illustrator's memory. But this plodding and material art had small +charm for me: to whom the happy margin was a ``clear sky'' ever +through which I could sail away at will to more gracious worlds. I was +duly qualified by a painfully acquired ignorance of dead languages +cautiously to approach my own; and 'twas no better. Along Milton's +margins the Gryphon must needs pursue the Arimaspian -- what a chance, +that Arimaspian, for the imaginative pencil! And so it has come about +that, while Milton periods are mostly effaced from memory by the +sponge of Time, I can still see that vengeful Gryphon, cousin-german +to the gentle beast that danced the Lobster Quadrille by a certain +shore. + +<p>It is by no means insisted upon that the chief end and use of margins +is for pictorial illustration, nor yet for furtive games of oughts and +crosses, nor (in the case of hymn-books) for amorous missives scrawled +against the canticle for the day, to be passed over into an adjacent +pew: as used, alas! to happen in days when one was young and godless, +and went to church. Nor, again, are the margins of certain poets +entrusted to man for the composing thereon of infinitely superior +rhymes on the subjects themselves have maltreated: a depraved habit, +akin to scalping. What has never been properly recognised is the +absolute value of the margin itself -- a value frequently superior to +its enclosure. In poetry the popular taste demands its margin, and +takes care to get it in ``the little verses wot they puts inside +the crackers.'' The special popularity, indeed, of lyric as opposed to +epic verse is due to this habit of feeling. A good example maybe found +in the work of Mr Swinburne: the latter is the better poetry, the +earlier remains the more popular -- because of its eloquence of +margin. Mr Tupper might long ago have sat with laureate brow but for +his neglect of this first principle. The song of Sigurd, our one epic +of the century, is pitiably unmargined, and so has never won the full +meed of glory it deserves; while the ingenious gentleman who wrote +``Beowulf,'' our other English epic, grasped the great fact from +the first, so that his work is much the more popular of the two. The +moral is evident. An authority on practical book-making has stated +that ``margin is a matter to be studied''; also that ``to +place the print in the centre of the paper is wrong in principle, and +to be deprecated.'' Now, if it be ``wrong in principle,'' let us +push that principle to its legitimate conclusion, and +``deprecate'' the placing of print on any part of the paper at +all. Without actually suggesting this course to any of our living +bards, when, I may ask -- when shall that true poet arise who, +disdaining the trivialities of text, shall give the world a book of +verse consisting entirely of margin? How we shall shove and jostle +for large paper copies! + +<p><strong>The Eternal Whither</strong> + + +<p>There was once an old cashier in some ancient City +establishment, whose practice was to spend his yearly holiday in +relieving some turnpike-man at his post, and performing all the duties +appertaining thereunto. This was vulgarly taken to be an instance of +mere mill-horse enslavement to his groove -- the reception of +payments; and it was spoken of both in mockery of all mill-horses and +for the due admonishment of others. And yet that clerk had discovered +for himself an unique method of seeing Life at its best, the flowing, +hurrying, travelling, marketing Life of the Highway; the life of +bagman and cart, of tinker, and pig-dealer, and all cheery creatures +that drink and chaffer together in the sun. He belonged, above all, to +the scanty class of clear-seeing persons who know both what they are +good for and what they really want. To know what you would like to do +is one thing; to go out boldly and do it is another -- and a rarer; +and the sterile fields about Hell-Gate are strewn with the corpses of +those who would an if they could. + +<p>To be sure, being bent on the relaxation most congenial to one's soul, +it is possible to push one's disregard for convention too far: as is +seen in the case of another, though of an earlier generation, in the +same establishment. In his office there was the customary +``attendance-book,'' wherein the clerks were expected to sign each +day. Here his name one morning ceases abruptly from appearing; he +signs, indeed, no more. Instead of signature you find, a little later, +writ in careful commercial hand, this entry: ``Mr --- did not +attend at his office to-day, having been hanged at eight o'clock in +the morning for horse-stealing.'' Through the faded ink of this record +do you not seem to catch, across the gulf of years, some waft of the +jolly humanity which breathed in this prince among clerks? A formal +precisian, doubtless, during business hours; but with just this honest +love of horseflesh lurking deep down there in him -- unsuspected, +sweetening the whole lump. Can you not behold him, freed from his +desk, turning to pursue his natural bent, as a city-bred dog still +striveth to bury his bone deep in the hearth-rug? For no filthy lucre, +you may be sure, but from sheer love of the pursuit itself! All the +same, he erred; erred, if not in taste, at least in judgment: for we +cannot entirely acquit him of blame for letting himself be caught. + +<p>In these tame and tedious days of the policeman rampant, our +melancholy selves are debarred from many a sport, joyous and debonair, +whereof our happier fathers were free. Book-stealing, to be sure, +remains to us; but every one is not a collector; and, besides, 'tis a +diversion you can follow with equal success all the year round. Still, +the instance may haply be pregnant with suggestion to many who wearily +ask each year, what new place or pursuit exhausted earth still keeps +for the holiday-maker. 'Tis a sad but sober fact, that the most of men +lead flat and virtuous lives, departing annually with their family to +some flat and virtuous place, there to disport themselves in a manner +that is decent, orderly, wholly uninteresting, vacant of every buxom +stimulus. To such as these a suggestion, in all friendliness: why not +try crime? We shall not attempt to specify the particular +branch -- for every one must himself seek out and find the path his +nature best fits him to follow; but the general charm of the prospect +must be evident to all. The freshness and novelty of secrecy, the +artistic satisfaction in doing the act of self-expression as well as +it can possibly be done; the experience of being not the hunter, but +the hunted, not the sportsman, but the game; the delight of comparing +and discussing crimes with your mates over a quiet pipe on your return +to town; these new pleasures -- these and their like -- would furnish +just that gentle stimulant, that peaceful sense of change so necessary +to the tired worker. And then the fact, that you would naturally have +to select and plan out your particular line of diversion without +advice or assistance, has its own advantage. For the moment a man +takes to dinning in your ears that you ought, you really ought, to go +to Norway, you at once begin to hate Norway with a hate that ever will +be; and to have Newlyn, Cromer, or Dawlish, Carinthia or the Austrian +Tyrol jammed down your throat, is enough to initiate the discovery +that your own individual weakness is a joyous and persistent liking +for manslaughter. + +<p>Some few seem to be born without much innate tendency to crime. After +all, it is mostly a matter of heredity; these unfortunates are less +culpable than their neglectful ancestors; and it is a fault that none +need really blush for in the present. For such as they there still +remains the example of the turnpike-loving clerk, with all its golden +possibilities. Denied the great delight of driving a locomotive, or a +fire-engine -- whirled along in a glorious nimbus of smoke-pant, +spark-shower, and hoarse warning roar -- what bliss to the palefaced +quilldriver to command a penny steamboat between London Bridge and +Chelsea! to drive a four-horsed Jersey-car to Kew at sixpence a head! +Though turnpikes be things of the past, there are still tolls to be +taken on many a pleasant reach of Thames. What happiness in quiet +moments to tend the lock-keeper's flower-beds -- perhaps make love to +his daughter; anon in busier times to let the old gates swing, work +the groaning winches, and hear the water lap and suck and gurgle as it +slowly sinks or rises with its swaying freight; to dangle legs over +the side and greet old acquaintances here and there among the +parti-coloured wayfarers passing up or down; while tobacco palleth not +on the longest day, and beer is ever within easy reach. The iron +tetter that scurfs the face of our island has killed out the pleasant +life of the road; but many of its best conditions still linger round +these old toll gates, free from dust and clatter, on the silent liquid +Highway to the West. + +<p>These for the weaker brethren: but for him who is conscious of the +Gift, the path is plain. + +<p><strong>Deus Terminus</strong> + + +<p>The practical Roman, stern constructor of roads and codes, when +he needs must worship, loved a deity practical as himself; and in his +parcelling of the known world into plots, saying unto this man, Bide +here, and to that, Sit you down there, he could scarce fail to evolve +the god Terminus: visible witness of possession and dominion, type of +solid facts not to be quibbled away. We Romans of this latter day -- +so hailed by others, or complacently christened by ourselves -- are +Roman in nothing more than in this; and, as much in the less tangible +realms of thought as in our solid acres, we are fain to set up the +statue which shall proclaim that so much country is explored, marked +out, allotted, and done with; that such and such ramblings and +excursions are practicable and permissible, and all else is exploded, +illegal, or absurd. And in this way we are left with naught but a +vague lingering tradition of the happier days before the advent of the +ruthless deity. + +<p>The sylvan glories of yonder stretch of woodland renew themselves each +autumn, regal as ever. It is only the old enchantment that is gone; +banished by the matter-of-fact deity, who has stolidly settled exactly +where Lord A.'s shooting ends and Squire B.'s begins. Once, no such +petty limitations fettered the mind. A step into the woodland was a +step over the border -- the margin of the material; and then, good-bye +to the modern world of the land-agent and the ``Field'' +advertisement! A chiming of little bells over your head, and lo! the +peregrine, with eyes like jewels, fluttered through the trees, her +jesses catching in the boughs. 'Twas the favourite of the Princess, +the windows of whose father's castle already gleamed through the +trees, where honours and favours awaited the adventurous. The white +doe sprang away through the thicket, her snowy flank stained with +blood; she made for the enchanted cot, and for entrance you too had +the pass-word. Did you fail on her traces, nor fox nor mole was too +busy to spare a moment for friendly advice or information. Little +hands were stretched to trip you, fairy gibe and mockery pelted you +from every rabbit-hole; and O what Dryads you have kissed among the +leaves, in that brief blissful moment ere they hardened into tree! +'Tis pity, indeed, that this sort of thing should have been made to +share the suspicion attaching to the poacher; that the stony stare of +the boundary god should confront you at the end of every green ride +and rabbit-run; while the very rabbits themselves are too disgusted +with the altered circumstances to tarry a moment for so much as to +exchange the time of day. + +<p>Truly this age is born, like Falstaff, with a white head and something +a round belly: and will none of your jigs and fantasies. The golden +era of princesses is past. For your really virtuous 'prentices there +still remain a merchant's daughter or two, and a bottle of port o' +Sundays on the Clapham mahogany. For the rest of us, one or two decent +clubs, and plenty of nice roomy lunatic asylums. ``Go spin, you +jade, go spin!'' is the one greeting for Imagination. And yet -- what a +lip the slut has! What an ankle! Go to: there's nobody looking; let us +lock the door, pull down the blinds, and write us a merry ballad. + +<p>'Tis ungracious, perhaps, to regret what is gone for ever, when so +much is given in return. A humour we have, that is entirely new; and +allotments that shall win back Astræa. Our Labor Program stands +for evidence that the Board School, at least, has done enduring work; +and the useless race of poets is fast dying out. Though we no longer +conjecture what song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed +when he hid himself among women, yet many a prize (of guineas galore) +awaits the competitor who will stoop, week by week, to more practical +research. ``Le monde marche,'' as Renan hath it, ``vers une +sorte d'americanisme.... Peut-être la vulgarité +générale sera-t-elle un jour la condition du bonheur des +élus. Nous n'avons pas le droit d'etre fort difficiles.'' We will +be very facile, then, since needs must; remembering the good old +proverb that ``scornful dogs eat dirty puddings.'' But, ere we +show Terminus the door, at least let us fling one stone at the +shrieking sulphureous houses of damnation erected as temples in his +honour, and dignified with his name! There, 'mid clangour, dirt, and +pestilence of crowding humanity, the very spirit of worry and unrest +sits embodied. The old Roman was not such a bad fellow. His deity of +demarcation at least breathed open air, and knew the kindly touch of +sun and wind. His simple rites were performed amid flowers and under +blue sky, by sunny roads or tranquil waters; and on this particular +altar the sacrifice was ordained to be free from any stain of +gore. Our hour of sacrifice, alas, has not yet come. When it +does -- (<em> et haud procul absit!</em>) -- let the offering be no +bloodless one, but let (for choice) a fat and succulent stationmaster +smoke and crackle on the altar of expiation! + + +<p><strong>Of Smoking</strong> + + +<p>Concerning Cigarette Smoking: It hath been well observed by a +certain philosopher that this is a practice commendable enough, and +pleasant to indulge in, ``when you're not smoking''; wherein the +whole criticism of the cigarette is found, in a little room. Of the +same manner of thinking was one that I knew, who kept by him an ample +case bulging with cigarettes, to smoke while he was filling his +pipe. Toys they be verily, <em> nugæ,</em> and shadows of the +substance. Serviceable, nevertheless, as shadows sometimes be when the +substance is temporarily unattainable; as between the acts of a play, +in the park, or while dressing for dinner: that such moments may not +be entirely wasted. That cigarette, however, which is so prompt to +appear after dinner I would reprehend and ban and totally abolish: as +enemy to that diviner thing before which it should pale its +ineffectual fires in shame -- to wit, good drink, <em> ``la dive +bouteille'';</em> except indeed when the liquor be bad, as is sometimes +known to happen. Then it may serve in some sort as a sorry +consolation. But to leave these airy substitutes, and come to smoking. + +<p>It hath been ofttimes debated whether the morning pipe be the sweeter, +or that first pipe of the evening which ``Hesperus, who bringeth +all good things,'' brings to the weary with home and rest. The first is +smoked on a clearer palate, and comes to unjaded senses like the kiss +of one's first love; but lacks that feeling of perfect fruition, of +merit recompensed and the goal and the garland won, which clings to +the vesper bowl. Whence it comes that the majority give the palm to +the latter. To which I intend no slight when I find the incense that +arises at matins sweeter even than that of evensong. For, although +with most of us who are labourers in the vineyard, toilers and +swinkers, the morning pipe is smoked in hurry and fear and a sense of +alarums and excursions and fleeting trains, yet with all this there +are certain halcyon periods sure to arrive -- Sundays, holidays, and +the like -- the whole joy and peace of which are summed up in that one +beatific pipe after breakfast, smoked in a careless majesty like that +of the gods ``when they lie beside their nectar, and the clouds +are lightly curled.'' Then only can we be said really to smoke. And so +this particular pipe of the day always carries with it festal +reminiscences: memories of holidays past, hopes for holidays to come; +a suggestion of sunny lawns and flannels and the ungirt loin; a sense +withal of something free and stately, as of ``faint march-music +in the air,'' or the old Roman cry of ``Liberty, freedom, and +enfranchisement.'' + +<p>If there be any fly in the pipe-smoker's ointment, it may be said to +lurk in the matter of ``rings.'' Only the exceptionally gifted +smoker can recline in his chair and emit at will the perfect +smoke-ring, in consummate eddying succession. He of the meaner sort +must be content if, at rare heaven-sent intervals -- while thinking, +perhaps, of nothing less -- there escape from his lips the +unpremeditated flawless circle. Then <em> ``deus fio''</em> he is +moved to cry, at that breathless moment when his creation hangs solid +and complete, ere the particles break away and blend with the baser +atmosphere. Nay, some will deny to any of us terrene smokers the gift +of fullest achievement: for what saith <em> the</em> poet of the century? +``On the earth the broken arcs: in the +heaven the perfect round!'' + +<p>It was well observed by a certain character in one of Wilkie Collins's +novels (if an imperfect memory serveth me rightly) that women will +take pleasure in scents derived from animal emanations, clarified +fats, and the like; yet do illogically abhor the ``clean, dry, +vegetable smell'' of tobacco. Herein the true base of the feminine +objection is reached; being, as usual, inherent want of logic rather +than any distaste, in the absolute, for the thing in +question. Thinking that they ought to dislike, they do painfully cast +about for reasons to justify their dislike, when none really exist. As +a specimen of their so-called arguments, I remember how a certain fair +one triumphantly pointed out to me that my dog, though loving me well, +could yet never be brought to like the smell of tobacco. To whom I, +who respected my dog (as Ben saith of Master Shakespeare) on this side +idolatry as much as anything, was yet fain to point out -- more in +sorrow than in anger -- that a dog, being an animal who delights to +pass his whole day, from early morn to dewy eve, in shoving his nose +into every carrion beastliness that he can come across, could hardly +be considered <em> arbiter elegantiarum</em> in the matter of smells. But +indeed I did wrong to take such foolish quibbling seriously; nor would +I have done so, if she hadn't dragged my poor innocent dog into the +discussion. + +<p>Of Smoking in Bed: There be who consider this a depravity -- an +instance of that excess in the practice of a virtue which passes into +vice -- and couple it with dram-drinking: who yet fail to justify +themselves by argument. For if bed be by common consent the greatest +bliss, the divinest spot, on earth, <em> ``ille terrarum qui +præter omnes angulus ridet'';</em> and if tobacco be the true Herb of +Grace, and a joy and healing balm, and respite and nepenthe, -- if all +this be admitted, why are two things, super-excellent separately, +noxious in conjunction? And is not the Bed Smoker rather an epicure in +pleasure -- self indulgent perhaps, but still the triumphant creator of +a new ``blend,'' reminding one of a certain traveller's account of +an intoxicant patronised in the South Sea Islands, which combines the +blissful effect of getting drunk and remaining sober to enjoy it? Yet +I shall not insist too much on this point, but would only ask -- so +long as the smoker be unwedded -- for some tolerance in the matter and +a little logic in the discussion thereof. + +<p>Concerning Cigars: That there be large sums given for these is within +common knowledge. 1<em> d.,</em> 2<em> d.,</em> nay even 4<em> d.,</em> is not too +great a price, if a man will have of the finest leaf, reckless of +expense. In this sort of smoking, however, I find more of vainglory +and ostentation than solid satisfaction; and its votaries would seem +to display less a calm, healthy affection for tobacco than (as Sir +T. Browne hath it) a ``passionate prodigality.'' And, besides +grievous wasting of the pocket, atmospheric changes, varyings in the +crops, and the like, cause uncertainty to cling about each individual +weed, so that man is always more or less at the mercy of Nature and +the elements -- an unsatisfactory and undignified position in these +latter days of the Triumphant Democracy. But worst and fatallest of +all, to every cigar-smoker it is certain to happen that once in his +life, by some happy combination of time, place, temperament, and +Nature -- by some starry influence, maybe, or freak of the gods in +mocking sport -- once, and once only, he will taste the aroma of the +perfect leaf at just the perfect point -- the ideal cigar. Henceforth +his life is saddened; as one kissed by a goddess in a dream, he goes +thereafter, as one might say, in a sort of love-sickness. Seeking he +scarce knows what, his existence becomes a dissatisfied yearning; the +world is spoiled for him, its joys are tasteless: so he wanders, +vision-haunted, down dreary days to some miserable end. + +<p>Yet, if one will walk this path and take the risks, the thing may be +done at comparatively small expense. To such I would commend the Roman +motto, slightly altered -- <em> Alieni appetens, sui avarus.</em> There be +always good fellows, with good cigars for their friends. Nay, too, the +boxes of these lie open; an the good cigar belongs rather to him that +can appreciate it aright than to the capitalist who, owing to a false +social system, happens to be its temporary guardian and trustee. Again +there is a saying -- bred first, I think, among the schoolmen at +Oxford -- that it is the duty of a son to live up to his father's +income. Should any young man have found this task too hard for him, +after the most strenuous and single-minded efforts, at least he can +resolutely smoke his father's cigars. In the path of duty complete +success is not always to be looked for; but an approving conscience, +the sure reward of honest endeavour, is within reach of all. + + +<p><strong>An Autumn Encounter</strong> + + +<p>For yet another mile or two the hot dusty road runs through +level fields, till it reaches yonder shoulder of the downs, already +golden three-parts up with ripening corn. Thitherwards lies my +inevitable way; and now that home is almost in sight it seems hard +that the last part of the long day's sweltering and delightful tramp +must needs be haunted by that hateful speck, black on the effulgence +of the slope. Did I not know he was only a scarecrow, the thing might +be in a way companionable: a pleasant suggestive surmise, piquing +curiosity, gilding this last weary stage with some magic of +expectancy. But I passed close by him on my way out. Early as I was, +he was already up and doing, eager to introduce himself. He leered +after me as I swung down the road, -- mimicked my gait, as it seemed, +in a most uncalled-for way; and when I looked back, he was blowing +derisive kisses of farewell with his empty sleeve. + +<p>I had succeeded, however, in shaking off the recollection between the +morning's start and now; so it was annoying that he should force +himself on me, just when there was no getting rid of him. At this +distance, however, he might be anything. An indeterminate blot, it +seems to waver, to falter, to come and vanish again in the quivering, +heated air. Even so, in the old time, leaning on that familiar +gate -- are the tell-tale inwoven initials still decipherable? -- I used +to watch Her pacing demurely towards me through the corn. It was +ridiculous, it was fatuous, under all the circumstances it was +monstrous, and yet{...}! We were both under twenty, so She was +She, and I was I, and there were only we three the wide world over, +she and I and the unbetraying gate. <em> Porta eburnea!</em> False visions +alone sped through you, though Cupid was wont to light on your topmost +bar, and preen his glowing plumes. And to think that I should see her +once more, coming down the path as if not a day had passed, hesitating +as of old, and then -- but surely her ankles seem -- Confound that +scarecrow!... + +<p>His sex is by this time painfully evident; also his condition in life, +which is as of one looking back on better days. And now he is upon a +new tack. Though here on the level it is still sultry and airless, an +evening breeze is playing briskly along the slope where he stands, and +one sleeve saws the air violently; the other is pointed stiffly +heavenwards. It is all plain enough, my poor friend! The sins of the +world are a heavy burden and a grievous unto you. You have a mission, +you must testify; it will forth, in season and out of season. For man, +he wakes and sleeps and sins betimes: but crows sin steadily, without +any cessation. And this unhappy state of things is your own +particular business. Even at this distance I seem to hear you rasping +it: ``Salvation, damnation, damnation, salvation!'' And the jolly +earth smiles in the perfect evenglow, and the corn ripples and laughs +all round you, and one young rook (only fledged this year, too!), +after an excellent simulation of prostrate, heart-broken penitence, +soars joyously away, to make love to his neighbour's wife. +``Salvation, damnation, damn -- '' A shifty wriggle of the road, +and he is transformed once more. Flung back in an ecstasy of laughter, +holding his lean sides, his whole form writhes with the chuckle and +gurgle of merriment. Ho, ho! what a joke it was! How I took you all +in! Even the rooks! What a joke is everything, to be sure! + +<p>Truly, I shall be glad to get quit of this heartless +mummer. Fortunately I shall soon be past him. And now, behold! the old +dog waxes amorous. Mincing, mowing, empty sleeve on hollow breast, he +would fain pose as the most irresistible old hypocrite that ever paced +a metropolitan kerb. ``Love, you young dogs,'' he seems to croak, +``Love is the one thing worth living for! Enjoy your present, +rooks and all, as I do!'' Why, indeed, should he alone be insensible +to the golden influence of the hour? More than one supple waist +(alas! for universal masculine frailty!) has been circled by that +tattered sleeve in days gone by; a throbbing heart once beat where +sodden straw now fails to give a manly curve to the chest. Why should +the coat survive, and not a particle of the passion that inspired it +long ago? + +<p>At last I confront him, face to face: and the villain grins +recognition, completely unabashed. Nay, he cocks his eye with a +significant glance under the slouch of his shapeless hat, and his arm +points persistently and with intelligence up the road. My good fellow, +I know the way to the Dog and Duck as well as you do: I was going +there anyhow, without your officious interference -- and the beer, as +you justly remark, is unimpeachable. But was this really all you've +been trying to say to me, this last half-hour? Well, well! + + +<p><strong>The White Poppy</strong> + + +<p>A riot of scarlet on gold, the red poppy of our native fields tosses +heavy tresses with gipsy <em> abandon;</em> her sister of the sea-shore is +golden, a yellow blossom that loves the keen salt savour of the +spray. Of another hue is the poppy of history, of romance, of the +muse. White as the stark death-shroud, pallid as the cheeks of that +queen of a silent land whose temples she languorously crowns, +ghost-like beside her fuller-blooded kin, she droops dream-laden, <em> +Papaver somniferum,</em> the poppy of the magic juice of oblivion. In the +royal plenitude of summer, the scarlet blooms will sometimes seem but +a red cry from earth in memory of the many dews of battle that have +drenched these acres in years gone by, for little end but that these +same ``bubbles of blood'' might glow to-day; the yellow flower +does but hint of the gold that has dashed a thousand wrecks at her +feet around these shores: for happier suggestion we must turn to her +of the pallid petals, our white Lady of Consolation. Fitting hue to +typify the crowning blessing of forgetfulness! Too often the sable +robes of night dissemble sleeplessness, remorse, regret, +self-questioning. Let black, then, rather stand for hideous memory: +white for blessed blank oblivion, happiest gift of the gods! For who, +indeed, can say that the record of his life is not crowded with +failure and mistake, stained with its petty cruelties of youth, its +meannesses and follies of later years, all which storm and clamour +incessantly at the gates of memory, refusing to be shut out? Leave us +alone, O gods, to remember our felicities, our successes: only aid us, +ye who recall no gifts, aptly and discreetly to forget. + +<p>Discreetly, we say; for it is a tactful forgetfulness that makes for +happiness. In the minor matter, for instance, of small money +obligations, that shortness of memory which the school of Professors +Panurge and Falstaff rashly praises, may often betray into some +unfortunate allusion or reference to the subject which shall pain the +delicate feelings of the obliger; or, if he be of coarser clay, shall +lead him in his anger to express himself with unseemliness, and +thereby to do violence to his mental tranquillity, in which alone, as +Marcus Aurelius teacheth, lieth the perfection of moral +character. This is to be a stumbling-block and an offence against the +brethren. It is better to keep just memory enough to avoid such hidden +rocks and shoals; in which thing Mr Swiveller is our great exemplar, +whose mental map of London was a chart wherein every creditor was +carefully ``buoyed.'' + +<p>The wise man prays, we are told, for a good digestion: let us add to +the prayer -- and a bad memory. Truly we are sometimes tempted to think +that we are the only ones cursed with this corroding canker. Our +friends, we can swear, have all, without exception, atrocious +memories; why is ours alone so hideously vital? Yet this isolation +must be imaginary; for even as we engage in this selfish moan for help +in our own petty case, we are moved to add a word for certain others +who, meaning no ill, unthinkingly go about to add to humanity's +already heavy load of suffering. How much needless misery is caused in +this world by the reckless ``recollections'' of dramatic and other +celebrities? You gods, in lending ear to our prayer, remember too, +above all other sorts and conditions of men, these our poor erring +brothers and sisters, the sometime <em> sommités</em> of Mummerdom! + +<p>Moments there are, it is true, when this traitor spirit tricks you: +when some subtle scent, some broken notes of an old song, nay, even +some touch of a fresher air on your cheeks at night -- a breath of <em> +``le vent qui vient à travers la montagne''</em> -- have power to +ravish, to catch you back to the blissful days when you trod the one +authentic Paradise. Moments only, alas! Then the evil crowd rushes in +again, howls in the sacred grove, tramples down and defiles the happy +garden; and once more you cry to Our Lady of Sleep, crowned of the +white poppy. And you envy your dog who, for full discharge of a +present benefaction having wagged you a hearty, expressive tail, will +then pursue it gently round the hearth-rug till, in restful coil, he +reaches it at last, and oblivion with it; every one of his half-dozen +diurnal sleeps being in truth a royal amnesty. + +<p>But whose the hand that shall reach us the herb of healing? Perdita +blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but +this gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is +``grace and remembrance.'' The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as +a nursling she hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a +``sorrow's crown of sorrow.'' What flowers are these her pale hand +offers? ``There's pansies, that's for thoughts!'' For me rather, O +dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness. + + +<p><strong>A Bohemian in Exile</strong> + +<p>A Reminiscence + + +<p>When, many years ago now, the once potent and extensive kingdom of +Bohemia gradually dissolved and passed away, not a few historians were +found to chronicle its past glories; and some have gone on to tell the +fate of this or that once powerful chieftain who either donned the +swallow-tail and conformed or, proudly self-exiled, sought some quiet +retreat and died as he had lived, a Bohemian. But these were of the +princes of the land. To the people, the villeins, the common rank and +file, does no interest attach? Did they waste and pine, anæmic, in +thin, strange, unwonted air? Or sit at the table of the scornful and +learn, with Dante, how salt was alien bread? It is of one of those +faithful commons I would speak, narrating only ``the short and +simple annals of the poor.'' + +<p>It is to be noted that the kingdom aforesaid was not so much a kingdom +as a United States -- a collection of self-ruling guilds, +municipalities, or republics, bound together by a common method of +viewing life. ``There <em> once</em> was a king of Bohemia'' -- but +that was a long time ago, and even Corporal Trim was not certain in +whose reign it was. These small free States, then, broke up gradually, +from various causes and with varying speed; and I think ours was one +of the last to go. + +<p>With us, as with many others, it was a case of lost +leaders. ``Just for a handful of silver he left us''; though it +was not exactly that, but rather that, having got the handful of +silver, they wanted a wider horizon to fling it about under than +Bloomsbury afforded. + +<p><blockquote> +So they left us for their pleasure; and in due time, +one by one -- +</blockquote> + +<p>But I will not be morose about them; they had honestly earned their +success, and we all honestly rejoiced at it, and do so still. + +<p>When old Pan was dead and Apollo's bow broken, there were many +faithful pagans who would worship at no new shrines, but went out to +the hills and caves, truer to the old gods in their discrowned +desolation than in their pomp and power. Even so were we left behind, +a remnant of the faithful. We had never expected to become great in art +or song; it was the life itself that we loved; that was our end -- not, +as with them, the means to an end. + +<p><blockquote> +We aimed at no glory, no lovers of glory we;<br> +Give us the glory of going on and still to be.<br> +</blockquote> + +<p>Unfortunately, going on was no longer possible; the old order had +changed, and we could only patch up our broken lives as best might be. + +<p>Fothergill said that he, for one, would have no more of it. The past +was dead, and he wasn't going to try to revive it. Henceforth he, +too, would be dead to Bloomsbury. Our forefathers, speaking of a man's +death, said ``he changed his life.'' This is how Fothergill +changed his life and died to Bloomsbury. One morning he made his way +to the Whitechapel Road, and there he bought a barrow. The +Whitechapel barrows are of all sizes, from the barrow wheeled about by +a boy with half a dozen heads of cabbages to barrows drawn by a tall +pony, such as on Sundays take the members of a club to Epping +Forest. They are all precisely the same in plan and construction, only +in the larger sizes the handles develop or evolve into shafts; and +they are equally suitable, according to size, for the vending of +whelks, for a hot-potato can, a piano organ, or for the conveyance of +a cheery and numerous party to the Derby. Fothergill bought a medium +sized ``developed'' one, and also a donkey to fit; he had it +painted white, picked out with green -- the barrow, not the +donkey -- and when his arrangements were complete, stabled the whole +for the night in Bloomsbury. The following morning, before the early +red had quite faded from the sky, the exodus took place, those of us +who were left being assembled to drink a parting whisky-and-milk in +sad and solemn silence. Fothergill turned down Oxford Street, sitting +on the shaft with a short clay in his mouth, and disappeared from our +sight, heading west at a leisurely pace. So he passed out of our lives +by way of the Bayswater Road. + +<p>They must have wandered far and seen many things, he and his donkey, +from the fitful fragments of news that now and again reached us. It +seems that eventually, his style of living being economical, he was +enabled to put down his donkey and barrow, and set up a cart and a +mare -- no fashionable gipsy-cart, a sort of houseboat on wheels, but a +light and serviceable cart, with a moveable tilt, constructed on his +own designs. This allowed him to take along with him a few canvases +and other artists' materials; soda-water, whisky, and such like +necessaries; and even to ask a friend from town for a day or two, if +he wanted to. + +<p>He was in this state of comparative luxury when at last, by the merest +accident, I foregathered with him once more. I had pulled up to +Streatley one afternoon, and, leaving my boat, had gone for a long +ramble on the glorious North Berkshire Downs to stretch my legs before +dinner. Somewhere over on Cuckhamsley Hill, by the side of the +Ridgeway, remote from the habitable world, I found him, smoking his +vesper pipe on the shaft of his cart, the mare cropping the short +grass beside him. He greeted me without surprise or effusion, as if +we had only parted yesterday, and without a hint of an allusion to +past times, but drifted quietly into rambling talk of his last three +years, and, without ever telling his story right out, left a strange +picturesque impression of a nomadic life which struck one as separated +by fifty years from modern conventional existence. The old road-life +still lingered on in places, it seemed, once one got well away from +the railway: there were two Englands existing together, the one +fringing the great iron highways wherever they might go -- the England +under the eyes of most of us. The other, unguessed at by many, in +whatever places were still vacant of shriek and rattle, drowsed on as +of old: the England of heath and common and windy sheep down, of +by-lanes and village-greens -- the England of Parson Adams and +Lavengro. The spell of the free untrammelled life came over me as I +listened, till I was fain to accept of his hospitality and a +horse-blanket for the night, oblivious of civilised comforts down at +the Bull. On the downs where Alfred fought we lay and smoked, gazing +up at the quiet stars that had shone on many a Dane lying stark and +still a thousand years ago; and in the silence of the lone tract that +enfolded us we seemed nearer to those old times than to these I had +left that afternoon, in the now hushed and sleeping valley of the +Thames. + +<p>When the news reached me, some time later, that Fothergill's aunt had +died and left him her house near town and the little all she had +possessed, I heard it with misgivings, not to say forebodings. For +the house had been his grandfather's, and he had spent much of his +boyhood there; it had been a dream of his early days to possess it in +some happy future, and I knew he could never bear to sell or let +it. On the other hand, can you stall the wild ass of the desert? And +will not the caged eagle mope and pine? + +<p>However, possession was entered into, and all seemed to go well for +the time. The cart was honourably installed in the coach-house, the +mare turned out to grass. Fothergill lived idly and happily, to all +seeming, with ``a book of verses underneath the bough,'' and a +bottle of old claret for the friend who might chance to drop in. But +as the year wore on small signs began to appear that he who had always +``rather hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak'' was beginning +to feel himself caged, though his bars were gilded. + +<p>I was talking one day to his coachman (he now kept three +men-servants), and he told me that of a Sunday morning when the +household had gone to church and everything was quiet, Mr Fothergill +would go into the coach-house and light his pipe, and sit on the step +of the brougham (he had a brougham now), and gaze at the old cart, and +smoke and say nothing; and smoke and say nothing again. He didn't like +it, the coachman confessed; and to me it seemed ominous. + +<p>One morning late in March, at the end of a long hard winter, I was +wakened by a flood of sunshine. The early air came warm and soft +through the open window; the first magic suggestion of spring was +abroad, with its whispered hints of daffodils and budding hawthorns; +and one's blood danced to imagined pipings of Pan from happy fields +far distant. At once I thought of Fothergill, and, with a certain +foreboding of ill, made my way down to Holly Lodge as soon as +possible. It was with no surprise at all that I heard that the master +was missing. In the very first of the morning, it seemed, or ever the +earliest under-housemaid had begun to set man-traps on the stairs and +along the passages, he must have quietly left the house. The servants +were cheerful enough, nevertheless, and thought the master must only +have ``gone for a nice long walk,'' and so on, after the manner of +their kind. Without a word I turned my steps to the coach-house. Sure +enough, the old cart was missing; the mare was gone from the +paddock. It was no good my saying anything; pursuit of this wild +haunter of tracks and by-paths would have been futile indeed. So I +kept my own counsel. Fothergill never returned to Holly Lodge, and has +been more secret and evasive since his last flight, rarely venturing +on old camping grounds near home, like to a bird scared by the +fowler's gun. + +<p>Once indeed, since then, while engaged in pursuit of the shy quarry +known as the Early Perp., late Dec., E. Eng., and the like, specimens +of which I was tracking down in the west, I hit upon him by accident; +hearing in an old village rumours concerning a strange man in a cart +who neither carried samples nor pushed the brewing interest by other +means than average personal consumption -- tales already beginning to +be distorted into material for the myth of the future. I found him +friendly as ever, equally ready to spin his yarns. As the evening wore +on, I ventured upon an allusion to past times and Holly Lodge; but his +air of puzzled politeness convinced me that the whole thing had passed +out of his mind, as a slight but disagreeable incident in the even +tenor of his nomadic existence. + +<p>After all, his gains may have outbalanced his losses. Had he cared, he +might, with his conversational gifts, have been a social success; +certainly, I think, an artistic one. He had great powers, had any +impulse been present to urge him to execution and achievement. But he +was for none of these things. Contemplative, receptive, with a keen +sense of certain sub-tones and side aspects of life unseen by most, he +doubtless chose wisely to enjoy life his own way, and to gather from +the fleeting days what bliss they had to give, nor spend them in +toiling for a harvest to be reaped when he was dust. + +<p><blockquote> +Some for the glories of this life, and some<br> +Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come:<br> +Ah, take the cash and let the credit go,<br> +Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum.<br> +</blockquote> + + +<p><strong>Justifiable Homicide</strong> + + +<p>This is a remedial age, an age of keys for all manner of locks; +so he cannot be said to ask too much who seeks for exact information +as to how a young man ought, in justice to himself and to society, to +deal with his relations. During his minority he has lain entirely at +their mercy: has been their butt, their martyr, their drudge, their +<em> corpus vile.</em> Possessing all the sinews of war, this stiff-necked +tribe has consistently refused to ``part'': even for the provision +of those luxuries so much more necessary than necessities. Its members +have crammed their victim full of precepts, rules of conduct, moral +maxims, and most miscellaneous counsel: all which he intuitively +suspected at the time, and has ascertained by subsequent experience, +to be utterly worthless. Now, when their hour has come, when the +tocsin has sounded at last, and the Gaul is at the gate, they still +appear to think that the old condition of things is to go on; +unconscious, apparently, of atonement due, of retribution to be +exacted, of wrongs to be avenged and of insults to be wiped away! + +<p>Over the north-west frontier, where the writ of the English Raj runs +not, the artless Afghan is happy in a code that fully provides for +relatives who neglect or misunderstand their obligations. An Afghan it +was who found himself compelled to reprove an uncle with an +unfortunate habit of squandering the family estate. An excellent +relative, this uncle, in all other respects. As a liar, he had few +equals; he robbed with taste and discretion; and his murders were all +imbued with true artistic feeling. He might have lived to a green old +age of spotless respectability but for his one little failing. As it +was, justice had to be done, <em> ruat cælum:</em> and so it came +about that one day the nephew issued forth to correct him with a +matchlock. The innocent old man was cultivating his paternal acres; so +the nephew was able, unperceived, to get a steady sight on him. His +finger was on the trigger, when suddenly there slipped into his mind +the divine precept: ``Allah is merciful!'' He lowered his piece, +and remained for a little plunged in thought; meanwhile the +unconscious uncle hoed his paddy. Then with a happy smile he took aim +once more, for there also occurred to him the precept equally divine: +``But Allah is also just.'' With an easy conscience he let fly, +and behold! there was an uncle the more in Paradise. + +<p>It was probably some little affair of a similar quality that +constrained a recruit in a regiment stationed at Peshawur to apply for +leave of absence: in order to attend to family matters of importance. +The Colonel knew it was small use refusing the leave, as in that case +his recruit would promptly desert; so he could only ask, how long was +the transaction like to take? It was told him, after consideration, +that, allowing for all possible difficulties and delays, a month would +meet the necessities of the case; and on that understanding he allowed +his man to depart. At the end of the month he reappeared on duty, a +subdued but mellow cheer shining through his wonted impassiveness. His +Colonel ventured to inquire of him, in a general way, if the business +in question were satisfactorily concluded. And he replied: ``I +got him from behind a rock.'' + +<p>There are practical difficulties in the way of the adoption of such +methods at home. We must be content to envy, without imitating, these +free and happy sons of the hills. And yet a few of the old school are +left us still: averse from change, mistrustful of progress, sticking +steadily to the good old-fashioned dagger and bowl. I had a friend who +disposed of a relative every spring. Uncles were his special line -- +(he had suffered much from their tribe, having been early left an +orphan) -- though he had dabbled in aunts, and in his hot youth, when +he was getting his hand in, he had even dallied with a grand-parent or +two. But it was in uncles he excelled. He possessed (at the beginning +of his career) a large number of these connections, and pursuit of +them, from the mere sordid point of view of <em> £ s. d.,</em> +proved lucrative. But he always protested (and I believed him) that +gain with him was a secondary consideration. It would hardly be in the +public interest to disclose his <em> modus operandi.</em> I shall only +remark that he was one of the first to realise the security and +immunity afforded the artist by the conditions of modern London. Hence +it happened that he usually practised in town, but spent his vacations +at the country houses of such relations as were still spared him, +where he was always the life and soul of the place. Unfortunately he +is no longer with us, to assist in the revision of this article: nor +was it permitted me to soothe his last moments. The presiding Sheriff +was one of those new-fangled officials who insist on the exclusion of +the public, and he declined to admit me either in the capacity of a +personal connection or, though I tried my hardest, as the +representative of ``The National Observer.'' It only remains to +be said of my much-tried and still lamented friend, that he left few +relatives to mourn his untimely end. + +<p>But our reluctant feet must needs keep step with the imperious march +of Time, and my poor friend's Art (as himself in later years would +sorrowfully admit) is now almost as extinct as the glass-staining of +old, or ``Robbia's craft so apt and strange''; while our +thin-blooded youth, too nice for the joyous old methods, are content +to find sweetest revenge in severely dropping their relations. This is +indeed a most effective position: it exasperates, while it is +unassailable. And yet there remains a higher course, a nobler task. +Not mere forgiveness: it is simple duty to forgive -- even one's +guardians. No young man of earnest aspirations will be content to stop +there. Nay: lead them on, these lost ones, by the hand; conduct them +``generously and gently, and with linking of the arm''; educate +them, eradicate their false ideals, dispel their foolish prejudices; +be to their faults a little blind and to their virtues very kind: in +fine, realise that you have a mission -- that these wretches are not +here for nothing. The task will seem hard at first; but only those who +have tried can know how much may be done by assiduous and kindly +effort towards the chastening -- ay! the final redemption even! -- of +the most hopeless and pig-headed of uncles. + +<p><strong>The Fairy Wicket</strong> + + +<p>From digging in the sandy, over-triturated soil of times +historical, all dotted with date and number and sign, how exquisite +the relief in turning to the dear days outside history -- yet not so +very far off neither for us nurslings of the northern sun -- when +kindly beasts would loiter to give counsel by the wayside, and a +fortunate encounter with one of the Good People was a surer path to +Fortune and the Bride than the best-worn stool that ever proved +step-ladder to aspiring youth. For then the Fairy Wicket stood +everywhere ajar -- everywhere and to each and all. ``Open, open, +green hill!'' -- you needed no more recondite sesame than that: and, +whoever you were, you might have a glimpse of the elfin dancers in the +hall that is litten within by neither sun nor moon; or catch at the +white horse's bridle as the Fairy Prince rode through. It has been +closed now this many a year (the fairies, always strong in the field, +are excellent wicket-keepers); and if it open at all, 'tis but for a +moment's mockery of the material generation that so deliberately +turned its back on the gap into Elf-Land -- that first stage to the +Beyond. + +<p>It was a wanton trick, though, that these folk of malice used to play +on a small school-boy, new kicked out of his nest into the draughty, +uncomfortable outer world, his unfledged skin still craving the +feathers whereinto he was wont to nestle. The barrack-like school, the +arid, cheerless class-rooms, drove him to Nature for redress; and, +under an alien sky, he would go forth and wander along the iron road +by impassive fields, so like yet so unlike those hitherto a part of +him and responding to his every mood. And to him, thus loitering with +overladen heart, there would come suddenly a touch of warmth, of +strange surprise. The turn of the road just ahead -- that, sure, is not +all unfamiliar? That row of elms -- it cannot entirely be accident that +they range just <em> so?</em> And, if not accident, then round the bend +will come the old duck-pond, the shoulder of the barn will top it, a +few yards on will be the gate -- it swings-to with its familiar +click -- the dogs race down the avenue -- and then -- and then! It is +all wildly fanciful; and yet, though knowing not Tertullian, a <em> +``credo quia impossibile''</em> is on his tongue as he quickens his +pace -- for what else can he do? A step, and the spell is +shattered -- all is cruel and alien once more; while every copse and +hedge-row seems a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter. The Fairies have +had their joke: they have opened the wicket one of their own +hand's-breadths, and shut it in their victim's face. When next that +victim catches a fairy, he purposes to tie up the brat in sight of his +own green hill, and set him to draw up a practical scheme for Village +Councils. + +<p>One of the many women I ever really loved, fair in the fearless old +fashion, was used to sing, in the blithe, unfettered accent of the +people: ``I'd like to be a fairy, And dance upon my toes, I'd +like to be a fairy, And wear short close!'' And in later life it is to +her sex that the wee (but very wise) folk sometimes delegate their +power of torment. Such understudies are found to play the part +exceeding well; and many a time the infatuated youth believes he sees +in the depth of one sole pair of eyes -- blue, brown, or green (the +fairy colour) -- the authentic fairy wicket standing ajar: many a time +must he hear the quaint old formula, ``I'm sure, if I've ever +done anything to lead you to think,'' etc (runs it not so?), ere he +shall realise that here is the gate upon no magic pleasance but on a +cheap suburban villa, banging behind the wrathful rate-collector or +hurled open to speed the pallid householder to the Registrar's +Office. In still grosser habitations, too, they lurk, do the People of +Mischief, ready to frolic out on the unsuspecting one: as in the case, +which still haunts my memory, of a certain bottle of an historic +Château-Yquem, hued like Venetian glass, odorous as a garden in +June. Forth from out the faint perfume of this haunted drink there +danced a bevy from Old France, clad in the fashion of Louis-Quinze, +peach-coloured knots of ribbon bedizening apple-green velvets, as they +moved in stately wise among the roses of the old garden, to the quaint +music -- Rameau, was it? -- of a fairy <em> cornemuse,</em> while fairy +Watteaus, Fragonards, Lancrets, sat and painted them. Alas! too +shallow the bottle, too brief the brawls: not to be recalled by any +quantity of Green Chartreuse. + + +<p><strong>Aboard the Galley</strong> + + +<p>He was cruising in the Southern Seas (was the Ulysses who told +me this tale), when there bore down upon him a marvellous strange +fleet, whose like he had not before seen. For each little craft was a +corpse, stiffly ``marlined,'' or bound about with tarred rope, as +mariners do use to treat plug tobacco: also ballasted, and with a fair +mast and sail stepped through his midriff. These self-sufficing ships +knew no divided authority: no pilot ever took the helm from the +captain's hands; no mutines lay in bilboes, no passengers complained +of the provisions. In a certain island to windward (the native pilot +explained) it was the practice, when a man died, to bury him for the +time being in dry, desiccating sand, till a chief should pass from his +people, when the waiting bodies were brought out and, caulked and +rigged <em> secumdum artem,</em> were launched with the first fair breeze, +the admiral at their head, on their voyage to the Blessed Islands. And +if a chief should die, and the sand should hold no store of corpses +for his escort, this simple practical folk would solve the little +difficulty by knocking some dozen or twenty stout fellows on the head, +that the notable might voyage like a gentleman. Whence this gallant +little company, running before the breeze, stark, happy, and extinct, +all bound for the Isles of Light! 'Twas a sight to shame us sitters at +home, who believe in those Islands, most of us, even as they, yet are +content to trundle City-wards or to Margate, so long as the sorry +breath is in us; and, breathless at last, to Bow or Kensal Green; +without one effort, dead or alive, to reach the far-shining +Hesperides. + +<p>``Dans la galère, capitane, nous étions +quatre-vingt rameurs!'' sang the oarsmen in the ballad; and they, +though indeed they toiled on the galley-bench, were free and happy +pirates, members of an honoured and liberal profession. But all +we -- pirates, parsons, stockbrokers, whatever our calling -- are but +galley-slaves of the basest sort, fettered to the oar each for his +little spell. A common misery links us all, like the chain that runs +the length of the thwarts. Can <em> nothing</em> make it worth our while +not to quarrel with our fellows? The menace of the storms is for each +one and for all: the master's whip has a fine impartiality. Crack! +the lash that scored my comrade's back has flicked my withers too; yet +neither of us was shirking -- it was that grinning ruffian in +front. Well: to-morrow, God willing, the evasion shall be ours, while +he writhes howling. But why do we never once combine -- seize on the +ship, fling our masters into the sea, and steer for some pleasant isle +far down under the Line, beyond the still-vexed Bermoothes? When ho +for feasting! Hey for tobacco and free-quarters! But no: the days +pass, and are reckoned up, and done with; and ever more pressing cares +engage. Those fellows on the leeward benches are having an easier time +than we poor dogs on the weather side? Then, let us abuse, pelt, +vilify then: let us steal their grub, and have at them generally for a +set of shirking, malingering brutes! What matter that to-morrow they +may be to windward, we to lee? We never can look ahead. And they know +this well, the gods our masters, pliers of the whip. And mayhap we +like them none the worse for it. + +<p>Indeed, there is a traitor sort among ourselves, that spins facile +phrases in the honour of these whipmasters of ours -- as <em> +``omnes eodem cogimur,''</em> and the rest; which is all very pretty +and mighty consoling. The fact is, the poets are the only people who +score by the present arrangement; which it is therefore their interest +to maintain. While we are doing all the work, these incorrigible +skulkers lounge about and make ribald remarks; they write Greek +tragedies on Fate, on the sublimity of Suffering, on the Petty Span, +and so on; and act in a generally offensive way. And we are even weak +enough to buy their books; offer them drinks, peerages, and things; +and say what superlative fellows they are! But when the +long-looked-for combination comes, and we poor devils have risen and +abolished fate, destiny, the Olympian Council, early baldness, and the +like, these poets will really have to go. + +<p>And when every rhymester has walked the plank, shall we still put up +with our relations? True members of the ``stupid party,'' who +never believe in us, who know (and never forget) the follies of our +adolescence; who are always wanting us <em> not</em> to do things; who are +lavish of advice, yet angered by the faintest suggestion of a small +advance in cash: shall the idle singers perish and these endure? No: +as soon as the last poet has splashed over the side, to the sharks +with our relations! + +<p>The old barkey is lightening famously: who shall be next to go? The +Sportsman of intolerable yarns: who slays twice over -- first, his +game, and then the miserable being he button-holes for the tedious +recital. Shall we suffer <em> him</em> longer? Who else? Who is that +cowering under the bulwarks yonder? The man who thinks he can imitate +the Scottish accent! Splash! And the next one? What a crowd is here! +How they block the hatchways, lumber the deck, and get between you and +the purser's room -- these fadmongers, teetotallers, missionaries of +divers isms! Overboard with them, and hey for the Fortunate Isles! +Then for tobacco in a hammock 'twixt the palms! Then for wine cooled +in a brooklet losing itself in silver sands! Then for -- but O these +bilboes on our ankles, how mercilessly they grip! The vertical sun +blisters the bare back: faint echoes of Olympian laughter seem to +flicker like Northern Lights across the stark and pitiless sky. One +earnest effort would do it, my brothers! A little modesty, a short +sinking of private differences; and then we should all be free and +equal gentlemen of fortune, and I would be your Captain! ``Who? +you? you would make a pretty Captain!'' Better than you, you scurvy, +skulking, little galley-slave! ``Galley-slave yourself, and +be --- Pull together, boys, and lie low! Here's the Master coming with +his whip!'' + +<p><strong>The Lost Centaur</strong> + + +<p>It is somewhere set down (or does the legend only exist in the +great volume of ought-to-be-writ?) that the young Achilles, nurtured +from babyhood by the wise and kindly Cheiron, accustomed to reverence +an ideal of human skill and wisdom blent with all that was best and +noblest of animal instinct, strength and swiftness, found poor +humanity sadly to miss, when at last the was sent forth among his +pottering little two-legged peers. Himself alone he had hitherto +fancied to be the maimed one, the incomplete; he looked to find the +lords of earth even such as these Centaurs; wise and magnanimous atop: +below, shod with the lightning, winged with the wind, terrible in the +potentiality of the armed heel. Instead of which -- ! How fallen was +his first fair hope of the world! And even when reconciled at last to +the dynasty of the forked radish, after he had seen its quality tested +round the clangorous walls of Troy -- some touch of an imperial +disdain ever lingered in his mind for these feeble folk who could +contentedly hail him -- him, who had known Cheiron! -- as hero and +lord! + +<p>Achilles has passed, with the Centaurs and Troy; but the feeling +lingers. + +<p>Of strange and divers strands is twisted the mysterious cord that, +reaching back ``through spaces out of space and timeless time,'' +somewhere joins us to the Brute; a twine of mingled yarn, not utterly +base. As we grow from our animal infancy, and the threads snap one by +one at each gallant wing-stroke of a soul poising for flight into +Empyrean, we are yet conscious of a loss for every gain, we have some +forlorn sense of a vanished heritage. Willing enough are we to +``let the ape and tiger die''; but the pleasant cousins dissembled +in hide and fur and feather are not all tigers and apes: which last +vile folk, indeed, exist for us only in picture-books, and chiefly +offend by always carrying the Sunday School ensign of a Moral at their +tails. Others -- happily of less didactic dispositions -- there be; +and it is to these unaffected, careless companions that the sensible +child is wont to devote himself; leaving severely alone the stiff, +tame creatures claiming to be of closer kin. And yet these playmates, +while cheerfully admitting him of their fellowship, make him feel his +inferiority at every point. Vainly, his snub nose projected +earthwards, he essays to sniff it with the terrier who (as becomes the +nobler animal) is leading in the chase; and he is ready to weep as he +realises his loss. And the rest of the Free Company, -- the pony, the +cows, the great cart-horses, -- are ever shaming him by their +unboastful exercise of some enviable and unattainable attribute. Even +the friendly pig, who (did but parents permit) should eat of his bread +and drink of his cup, and be unto him as a brother, -- which among all +these unhappy bifurcations, so cheery, so unambitious, so purely +contented, so apt to be the guide, philosopher, and friend of boyhood +as he? What wonder that at times, when the neophyte in life begins to +realise that all these desirable accomplishments have had to be +surrendered one by one in the process of developing a Mind, the course +of fitting out a Lord of Creation, he is wont -- not knowing the +extent of the kingdom to which he is heir -- to feel a little +discontented? + +<p>Ere now this ill-humour, taking root in a nature wherein the animal is +already ascendant, has led by downward paths to the Goat-Foot, in whom +the submerged human system peeps out but fitfully, at exalted +moments. He, the peevish and irascible, shy of trodden ways and pretty +domesticities, is linked to us by little but his love of melody; but +for which saving grace, the hair would soon creep up from thigh to +horn of him. At times he will still do us a friendly turn: will lend a +helping hand to poor little Psyche, wilfully seeking her own +salvation; will stand shoulder to shoulder with us on Marathon +plain. But in the main his sympathies are first for the beast: to +which his horns are never horrific, but, with his hairy pelt, ever +natural and familiar, and his voice (with its talk of help and +healing) not harsh nor dissonant, but voice of very brother as well as +very god. + +<p>And this declension -- for declension it is, though we achieve all the +confidences of Melampus, and even master with him the pleasant <em> +argot</em> of the woods -- may still be ours if we suffer what lives in us +of our primal cousins to draw us down. On the other hand, let soul +inform and irradiate body as it may, the threads are utterly shorn +asunder never: nor is man, the complete, the self-contained, permitted +to cut himself wholly adrift from these his poor relations. The mute +and stunted human embryo that gazes appealingly from out the depths of +their eyes must ever remind him of a kinship once (possibly) +closer. Nay, at times, it must even seem to whelm him in reproach. As +thus: ``Was it really necessary, after all, that we two should +part company so early? May you not have taken a wrong turning +somewhere, in your long race after your so-called progress, after the +perfection of this be-lauded species of yours? A turning whose due +avoidance might perhaps have resulted in no such lamentable cleavage +as is here, but in some perfect embodiment of the dual nature: as who +should say a being with the nobilities of both of us, the basenesses +of neither? So might you, more fortunately guided, have been led at +last up the green sides of Pelion, to the ancestral, the primeval, +Centaur still waiting majestic on the summit!'' It is even so. Perhaps +this thing might once have been, O cousin outcast and estranged! But +the opportunity was long since lost. Henceforth, two ways for us for +ever! + +<p><strong>Orion</strong> + + +<p>The moonless night has a touch of frost, and is +steely-clear. High and dominant amidst the Populations of the Sky, the +restless and the steadfast alike, hangs the great Plough, lit with a +hard radiance as of the polished and shining share. And yonder, low on +the horizon, but half resurgent as yet, crouches the magnificent +hunter: watchful, seemingly, and expectant: with some hint of menace +in his port. + +<p>Yet should his game be up, you would think by now. Many a century has +passed since the plough first sped a conqueror east and west, clearing +forest and draining fen; policing the valleys with barbed-wires and +Sunday schools, with the chains that are forged of peace, the irking +fetters of plenty: driving also the whole lot of us, these to sweat at +its tail, those to plod with the patient team, but all to march in a +great chain-gang, the convicts of peace and order and law: while the +happy nomad, with his woodlands, his wild cattle, his pleasing +nuptialities, has long since disappeared, dropping only in his flight +some store of flint-heads, a legacy of confusion. Truly, we Children +of the Plough, but for yon tremendous Monitor in the sky, were in +right case to forget that the Hunter is still a quantity to reckon +withal. Where, then, does he hide, the Shaker of the Spear? Why, +here, my brother, and here; deep in the breasts of each and all of +us! And for this drop of primal quicksilver in the blood what poppy or +mandragora shall purge it hence away? + +<p>Of pulpiteers and parents it is called Original Sin: a term wherewith +they brand whatever frisks and butts with rude goatish horns against +accepted maxims and trim theories of education. In the abstract, of +course, this fitful stirring of the old yeast is no more sin than a +natural craving for a seat on a high stool, for the inscription -- now +horizontal, and now vertical -- of figures, is sin. But the deskmen +command a temporary majority: for the short while they shall hold the +cards they have the right to call the game. And so -- since we must +bow to the storm -- let the one thing be labelled Sin, and the other +Salvation -- for a season: ourselves forgetting never that it is all a +matter of nomenclature. What we have now first to note is that this +original Waft from the Garden asserts itself most vigorously in the +Child. This it is that thrusts the small boy out under the naked +heavens, to enact a sorry and shivering Crusoe on an islet in the +duck-pond. This it is that sends the little girl footing it after the +gipsy's van, oblivious of lessons, puddings, the embrace maternal, the +paternal smack; hearing naught save the faint, far bugle-summons to +the pre-historic little savage that thrills and answers in the +tingling blood of her; seeing only a troop of dusky, dull-eyed guides +along that shining highway to the dim land east o' the sun and west o' +the moon: where freedom is, and you can wander and breathe, and at +night tame street lamps there are none -- only the hunter's fires, and +the eyes of lions, and the mysterious stars. In later years it is +stifled and gagged -- buried deep, a green turf at the head of it, and +on its heart a stone; but it lives, it breathes, it lurks, it will up +and out when 'tis looked for least. That stockbroker, some brief +summers gone, who was missed from his wonted place one settling-day! a +goodly portly man, i' faith: and had a villa and a steam launch at +Surbiton: and was versed in the esoteric humours of the House. Who +could have thought that the Hunter lay hid in him? Yet, after many +weeks, they found him in a wild nook of Hampshire. Ragged, sun-burnt, +the nocturnal haystack calling aloud from his frayed and +weather-stained duds, his trousers tucked, he was tickling trout with +godless native urchins; and when they would have won him to himself +with honied whispers of American Rails, he answered but with babble of +green fields. He is back in his wonted corner now: quite cured, +apparently, and tractable. And yet -- let the sun shine too wantonly +in Throgmorton Street, let an errant zephyr, quick with the warm +South, fan but his cheek too wooingly on his way to the station; and +will he not once more snap his chain and away? Ay, truly: and next +time he will not be caught. + +<p>Deans have danced to the same wild piping, though their chapters have +hushed the matter up. Even Duchesses (they say) have ``come +tripping doon the stair,'' rapt by the climbing passion from their +strawberry-leaved surroundings into starlit spaces. Nay, ourselves, +too -- the douce, respectable mediocrities that we are -- which of us +but might recall some fearful outbreak whose details are mercifully +unknown to the household that calls us breadwinner and chief? What +marvel that up yonder the Hunter smiles? When he knows that every one +in his ken, the tinker with the statesman, has caught his bugle blast +and gone forth on its irresistible appeal! + +<p>Not that they are so easily followed as of yore, those flying echoes +of the horn! Joints are stiffer, maybe; certainly the desolate +suburbs creep ever farther into the retreating fields; and when you +reach the windy moorland, lo! it is all staked out into +building-lots. Mud is muddier now than heretofore; and ruts are +ruttier. And what friendless old beast comes limping down the dreary +lane? He seems sorely shrunk and shoulder-shotten; but by the +something of divinity in his look, still more than by the wings +despondent along his mighty sides, 'tis ever the old Pegasus -- not yet +the knacker's own. ``Hard times I've been having,'' he murmurs, as +you rub his nose. ``These fellows have really no seat except for +a park hack. As for this laurel, we were wont to await it trembling: +and in taking it we were afraid. Your English way of hunting it down +with yelpings and hallooings -- well, I may be out of date, but we +wouldn't have stood that sort of thing on Helicon.'' So he hobbles down +the road. Good night, old fellow! Out of date? Well, it may be +so. And alas! the blame is ours. + +<p>But for the Hunter -- there he rises -- couchant no more. Nay, flung +full stretch on the blue, he blazes, he dominates, he appals! Will his +turn, then, really come at last? After some Armageddon of cataclysmal +ruin, all levelling, whelming the County Councillor with the +Music-hall artiste, obliterating the very furrows of the Plough, shall +the skin-clad nomad string his bow once more, and once more loose the +whistling shaft? Wildly incredible it seems. And yet -- look up! Look +up and behold him confident, erect, majestic -- there on the threshold +of the sky! + +<hr> + +<p>A printed version of this book is available from <a +href="http://pagan_papers.sattre-press.com">Sattre Press</a>. It +includes a glossary of French and Latin phrases. + +<pre>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PAGAN PAPERS *** + +This file should be named pagan10h.htm or pagan10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, pagan11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, pagan10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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