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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/5338-0.txt b/5338-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad395ba --- /dev/null +++ b/5338-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3663 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mark Rutherford's Deliverance, by Mark +Rutherford + + +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: Mark Rutherford's Deliverance + + +Author: Mark Rutherford + + + +Release Date: August 14, 2014 [eBook #5338] +[This file was first posted on July 2, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE*** + + +Transcribed from the 1913 Hodder and Stoughton edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Man comforting woman] + + + + + + MARK RUTHERFORD’S + DELIVERANCE + + + BY + MARK RUTHERFORD + + [Picture: Decoractive graphic] + + HODDER & STOUGHTON’S + SEVENPENNY LIBRARY + + * * * * * + + HODDER AND STOUGHTON + LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + CHAPTER I +NEWSPAPERS 3 + CHAPTER II +M’KAY 23 + CHAPTER III +MISS LEROY 40 + CHAPTER IV +A NECESSARY DEVELOPMENT 62 + CHAPTER V +WHAT IT ALL CAME TO 81 + CHAPTER VI +DRURY LANE THEOLOGY 103 + CHAPTER VII +QUI DEDIT IN MARI VIAM 116 + CHAPTER VIII +FLAGELLUM NON APPROQUINABIT TABERNACULO TUO 127 + CHAPTER IX +HOLIDAYS 145 + + + + +CHAPTER I +NEWSPAPERS + + +WHEN I had established myself in my new lodgings in Camden Town, I found +I had ten pounds in my pocket, and again there was no outlook. I +examined carefully every possibility. At last I remembered that a +relative of mine, who held some office in the House of Commons, added to +his income by writing descriptive accounts of the debates, throwing in by +way of supplement any stray scraps of gossip which he was enabled to +collect. The rules of the House as to the admission of strangers were +not so strict then as they are now, and he assured me that if I could but +secure a commission from a newspaper, he could pass me into one of the +galleries, and, when there was nothing to be heard worth describing, I +could remain in the lobby, where I should by degrees find many +opportunities of picking up intelligence which would pay. So far, so +good; but how to obtain the commission? I managed to get hold of a list +of all the country papers, and I wrote to nearly every one, offering my +services. I am afraid that I somewhat exaggerated them, for I had two +answers, and, after a little correspondence, two engagements. This was +an unexpected stroke of luck; but alas! both journals circulated in the +same district. I never could get together more stuff than would fill +about a column and a half, and consequently I was obliged, with infinite +pains, to vary, so that it could not be recognised, the form of what, at +bottom, was essentially the same matter. This was work which would have +been disagreeable enough, if I had not now ceased in a great measure to +demand what was agreeable. In years past I coveted a life, not of mere +sensual enjoyment—for that I never cared—but a life which should be +filled with activities of the noblest kind, and it was intolerable to me +to reflect that all my waking hours were in the main passed in merest +drudgery, and that only for a few moments at the beginning or end of the +day could it be said that the higher sympathies were really operative. +Existence to me was nothing but these few moments, and consequently +flitted like a shadow. I was now, however, the better of what was half +disease and half something healthy and good. In the first place, I had +discovered that my appetite was far larger than my powers. Consumed by a +longing for continuous intercourse with the best, I had no ability +whatever to maintain it, and I had accepted as a fact, however mysterious +it might be, that the human mind is created with the impulses of a seraph +and the strength of a man. Furthermore, what was I that I should demand +exceptional treatment? Thousands of men and women superior to myself, +are condemned, if that is the proper word to use, to almost total absence +from themselves. The roar of the world for them is never lulled to rest, +nor can silence ever be secured in which the voice of the Divine can be +heard. + +My letters were written twice a week, and as each contained a column and +a half, I had six columns weekly to manufacture. These I was in the +habit of writing in the morning, my evenings being spent at the House. +At first I was rather interested, but after a while the occupation became +tedious beyond measure, and for this reason. In a discussion of any +importance about fifty members perhaps would take part, and had made up +their minds beforehand to speak. There could not possibly be more than +three or four reasons for or against the motion, and as the knowledge +that what the intending orator had to urge had been urged a dozen times +before on that very night never deterred him from urging it again, the +same arguments, diluted, muddled, and mispresented, recurred with the +most wearisome iteration. + +The public outside knew nothing or very little of the real House of +Commons, and the manner in which time was squandered there, for the +reports were all of them much abbreviated. In fact, I doubt whether +anybody but the Speaker, and one or two other persons in the same +position as myself, really felt with proper intensity what the waste was, +and how profound was the vanity of members and the itch for expression; +for even the reporters were relieved at stated intervals, and the +impression on their minds was not continuous. Another evil result of +these attendances at the House was a kind of political scepticism. Over +and over again I have seen a Government arraigned for its conduct of +foreign affairs. The evidence lay in masses of correspondence which it +would have required some days to master, and the verdict, after knowing +the facts, ought to have depended upon the application of principles, +each of which admitted a contrary principle for which much might be +pleaded. There were not fifty members in the House with the leisure or +the ability to understand what it was which had actually happened, and if +they had understood it, they would not have had the wit to see what was +the rule which ought to have decided the case. Yet, whether they +understood or not, they were obliged to vote, and what was worse, the +constituencies also had to vote, and so the gravest matters were settled +in utter ignorance. This has often been adduced as an argument against +an extended suffrage, but, if it is an argument against anything, it is +an argument against intrusting the aristocracy and even the House itself +with the destinies of the nation; for no dock labourer could possibly be +more entirely empty of all reasons for action than the noble lords, +squires, lawyers, and railway directors whom I have seen troop to the +division bell. There is something deeper than this scepticism, but the +scepticism is the easiest and the most obvious conclusion to an open mind +dealing so closely and practically with politics as it was my lot to do +at this time of my life. Men must be governed, and when it comes to the +question, by whom? I, for one, would far sooner in the long run trust the +people at large than I would the few, who in everything which relates to +Government are as little instructed as the many and more difficult to +move. The very fickleness of the multitude, the theme of such constant +declamation, is so far good that it proves a susceptibility to +impressions to which men hedged round by impregnable conventionalities +cannot yield. {7} + +When I was living in the country, the pure sky and the landscape formed a +large portion of my existence, so large that much of myself depended on +it, and I wondered how men could be worth anything if they could never +see the face of nature. For this belief my early training on the +“Lyrical Ballads” is answerable. When I came to London the same creed +survived, and I was for ever thirsting for intercourse with my ancient +friend. Hope, faith, and God seemed impossible amidst the smoke of the +streets. It was now very difficult for me, except at rare opportunities, +to leave London, and it was necessary for me, therefore, to understand +that all that was essential for me was obtainable there, even though I +should never see anything more than was to be seen in journeying through +the High Street, Camden Town, Tottenham Court Road, the Seven Dials, and +Whitehall. I should have been guilty of a simple surrender to despair if +I had not forced myself to make this discovery. I cannot help saying, +with all my love for the literature of my own day, that it has an evil +side to it which none know except the millions of sensitive persons who +are condemned to exist in great towns. It might be imagined from much of +this literature that true humanity and a belief in God are the offspring +of the hills or the ocean; and by implication, if not expressly, the vast +multitudes who hardly ever see the hills or the ocean must be without a +religion. The long poems which turn altogether upon scenery, perhaps in +foreign lands, and the passionate devotion to it which they breathe, may +perhaps do good in keeping alive in the hearts of men a determination to +preserve air, earth, and water from pollution; but speaking from +experience as a Londoner, I can testify that they are most depressing, +and I would counsel everybody whose position is what mine was to avoid +these books and to associate with those which will help him in his own +circumstances. + +Half of my occupation soon came to an end. One of my editors sent me a +petulant note telling me that all I wrote he could easily find out +himself, and that he required something more “graphic and personal.” I +could do no better, or rather I ought to say, no worse than I had been +doing. These letters were a great trouble to me. I was always conscious +of writing so much of which I was not certain, and so much which was +indifferent to me. The unfairness of parties haunted me. But I +continued to write, because I saw no other way of getting a living, and +surely it is a baser dishonesty to depend upon the charity of friends +because some pleasant, clean, ideal employment has not presented itself, +than to soil one’s hands with a little of the inevitable mud. I don’t +think I ever felt anything more keenly than I did a sneer from an +acquaintance of mine who was in the habit of borrowing money from me. He +was a painter, whose pictures were never sold because he never worked +hard enough to know how to draw, and it came to my ears indirectly that +he had said that “he would rather live the life of a medieval ascetic +than condescend to the degradation of scribbling a dozen columns weekly +of utter trash on subjects with which he had no concern.” At that very +moment he owed me five pounds. God knows that I admitted my dozen +columns to be utter trash, but it ought to have been forgiven by those +who saw that I was struggling to save myself from the streets and to keep +a roof over my head. Degraded, however, as I might be, I could not get +down to the “graphic and personal,” for it meant nothing less than the +absolutely false. I therefore contrived to exist on the one letter, +which, excepting the mechanical labour of writing a second, took up as +much of my time as if I had to write two. + +Never, but once or twice at the most, did my labours meet with the +slightest recognition beyond payment. Once I remember that I accused a +member of a discreditable manœuvre to consume the time of the House, and +as he represented a borough in my district, he wrote to the editor +denying the charge. The editor without any inquiry—and I believe I was +mistaken—instantly congratulated me on having “scored.” At another time, +when Parliament was not sitting, I ventured, by way of filling up my +allotted space, to say a word on behalf of a now utterly forgotten novel. +I had a letter from the authoress thanking me, but alas! the illusion +vanished. I was tempted by this one novel to look into others which I +found she had written, and I discovered that they were altogether silly. +The attraction of the one of which I thought so highly, was due not to +any real merit which it possessed, but to something I had put into it. +It was dead, but it had served as a wall to re-echo my own voice. +Excepting these two occasions, I don’t think that one solitary human +being ever applauded or condemned one solitary word of which I was the +author. All my friends knew where my contributions were to be found, but +I never heard that they looked at them. They were never worth reading, +and yet such complete silence was rather lonely. The tradesman who makes +a good coat enjoys the satisfaction of having fitted and pleased his +customer, and a bricklayer, if he be diligent, is rewarded by knowing +that his master understands his value, but I never knew what it was to +receive a single response. I wrote for an abstraction; and spoke to +empty space. I cannot help claiming some pity and even respect for the +class to which I belonged. I have heard them called all kinds of hard +names, hacks, drudges, and something even more contemptible, but the +injustice done to them is monstrous. Their wage is hardly earned; it is +peculiarly precarious, depending altogether upon their health, and no +matter how ill they may be they must maintain the liveliness of manner +which is necessary to procure acceptance. I fell in with one poor fellow +whose line was something like my own. I became acquainted with him +through sitting side by side with him at the House. He lived in lodgings +in Goodge Street, and occasionally I walked with him as far as the corner +of Tottenham Court Road, where I caught the last omnibus northward. He +wrote like me a “descriptive article” for the country, but he also wrote +every now and then—a dignity to which I never attained—a “special” for +London. His “descriptive articles” were more political than mine, and he +was obliged to be violently Tory. His creed, however, was such a pure +piece of professionalism, that though I was Radical, and was expected to +be so, we never jarred, and often, as we wandered homewards, we exchanged +notes, and were mutually useful, his observations appearing in my paper, +and mine in his, with proper modifications. How he used to roar in the +_Gazette_ against the opposite party, and yet I never heard anything from +him myself but what was diffident and tender. He had acquired, as an +instrument necessary to him, an extraordinarily extravagant style, and he +laid about him with a bludgeon, which inevitably descended on the heads +of all prominent persons if they happened not to be Conservative, no +matter what their virtues might be. One peculiarity, however, I noted in +him. Although he ought every now and then, when the subject was +uppermost, to have flamed out in the _Gazette_ on behalf of the Church, I +never saw a word from him on that subject. He drew the line at religion. +He did not mind acting his part in things secular, for his performances +were, I am sure, mostly histrionic, but there he stopped. The unreality +of his character was a husk surrounding him, but it did not touch the +core. It was as if he had said to himself, “Political controversy is +nothing to me, and, what is more, is so uncertain that it matters little +whether I say yes or no, nor indeed does it matter if I say yes _and_ no, +and I must keep my wife and children from the workhouse; but when it +comes to the relationship of man to God, it is a different matter.” His +altogether outside vehemence and hypocrisy did in fact react upon him, +and so far from affecting harmfully what lay deeper, produced a more +complete sincerity and transparency extending even to the finest verbal +distinctions. Over and over again have I heard him preach to his wife, +almost with pathos, the duty of perfect exactitude in speech in +describing the commonest occurrences. “Now, my dear, _is_ that so?” was +a perpetual remonstrance with him; and he always insisted upon it that +there is no training more necessary for children than that of teaching +them not merely to speak the truth in the ordinary, vulgar sense of the +term, but to speak it in a much higher sense, by rigidly compelling, +point by point, a correspondence of the words with the fact external or +internal. He never would tolerate in his own children a mere hackneyed, +borrowed expression, but demanded exact portraiture; and nothing vexed +him more than to hear one of them spoil and make worthless what he or she +had seen, by reporting it in some stale phrase which had been used by +everybody. This refusal to take the trouble to watch the presentment to +the mind of anything which had been placed before it, and to reproduce it +in its own lines and colours was, as he said, nothing but falsehood, and +he maintained that the principal reason why people are so uninteresting +is not that they have nothing to say. It is rather that they will not +face the labour of saying in their own tongue what they have to say, but +cover it up and conceal it in commonplace, so that we get, not what they +themselves behold and what they think, but a hieroglyphic or symbol +invented as the representative of a certain class of objects or emotions, +and as inefficient to represent a particular object or emotion as _x_ or +_y_ to set forth the relation of Hamlet to Ophelia. He would even +exercise his children in this art of the higher truthfulness, and would +purposely make them give him an account of something which he had seen +and they had seen, checking them the moment he saw a lapse from +originality. Such was the Tory correspondent of the _Gazette_. + +I ought to say, by way of apology for him, that in his day it signified +little or nothing whether Tory or Whig was in power. Politics had not +become what they will one day become, a matter of life or death, dividing +men with really private love and hate. What a mockery controversy was in +the House! How often I have seen members, who were furious at one +another across the floor, quietly shaking hands outside, and inviting one +another to dinner! I have heard them say that we ought to congratulate +ourselves that parliamentary differences do not in this country breed +personal animosities. To me this seemed anything but a subject of +congratulation. Men who are totally at variance ought not to be friends, +and if Radical and Tory are not totally, but merely superficially at +variance, so much the worse for their Radicalism and Toryism. + +It is possible, and even probable, that the public fury and the +subsequent amity were equally absurd. Most of us have no real loves and +no real hatreds. Blessed is love, less blessed is hatred, but thrice +accursed is that indifference which is neither one nor the other, the +muddy mess which men call friendship. + +M’Kay—for that was his name—lived, as I have said, in Goodge Street, +where he had unfurnished apartments. I often spent part of the Sunday +with him, and I may forestall obvious criticism by saying that I do not +pretend for a moment to defend myself from inconsistency in denouncing +members of Parliament for their duplicity, M’Kay and myself being also +guilty of something very much like it. But there was this difference +between us and our parliamentary friends, that we always divested +ourselves of all hypocrisy when we were alone. We then dropped the stage +costume which members continued to wear in the streets and at the +dinner-table, and in which some of them even slept and said their +prayers. + +London Sundays to persons who are not attached to any religious +community, and have no money to spend, are rather dreary. We tried +several ways of getting through the morning. If we heard that there was +a preacher with a reputation, we went to hear him. As a rule, however, +we got no good in that way. Once we came to a chapel where there was a +minister supposed to be one of the greatest orators of the day. We had +much difficulty in finding standing room. Just as we entered we heard +him say, “My friends, I appeal to those of you who are parents. You know +that if you say to a child ‘go,’ he goeth, and if you say ‘come,’ he +cometh. So the Lord”— But at this point M’Kay, who had children, nudged +me to come out; and out we went. Why does this little scene remain with +me? I can hardly say, but here it stands. It is remembered, not so much +by reason of the preacher as by reason of the apparent acquiescence and +admiration of the audience, who seemed to be perfectly willing to take +over an experience from their pastor—if indeed it was really an +experience—which was not their own. Our usual haunts on Sunday were +naturally the parks and Kensington Gardens; but artificial limited +enclosures are apt to become wearisome after a time, and we longed for a +little more freedom if a little less trim. So we would stroll towards +Hampstead or Highgate, the only drawback to these regions being the +squalid, ragged, half town, half suburb, through which it was necessary +to pass. The skirts of London when the air is filled with north-easterly +soot, grit, and filth, are cheerless, and the least cheerful part of the +scene is the inability of the vast wandering masses of people to find any +way of amusing themselves. At the corner of one of the fields in Kentish +Town, just about to be devoured, stood a public-house, and opposite the +door was generally encamped a man who sold nothing but Brazil nuts. +Swarms of people lazily wandered past him, most of them waiting for the +public-house to open. Brazil nuts on a cold black Sunday morning are not +exhilarating, but the costermonger found many customers who bought his +nuts, and ate them, merely because they had nothing better to do. We +went two or three times to a freethinking hall, where we were entertained +with demonstrations of the immorality of the patriarchs and Jewish +heroes, and arguments to prove that the personal existence of the devil +was a myth, the audience breaking out into uproarious laughter at comical +delineations of Noah and Jonah. One morning we found the place +completely packed. A “celebrated Christian,” as he was described to us, +having heard of the hall, had volunteered to engage in debate on the +claims of the Old Testament to Divine authority. He turned out to be a +preacher whom we knew quite well. He was introduced by his freethinking +antagonist, who claimed for him a respectful hearing. The preacher said +that before beginning he should like to “engage in prayer.” Accordingly +he came to the front of the platform, lifted up his eyes, told God why he +was there, and besought Him to bless the discussion in the conversion “of +these poor wandering souls, who have said in their hearts that there is +no God, to a saving faith in Him and in the blood of Christ.” I expected +that some resentment would be displayed when the wandering souls found +themselves treated like errant sheep, but to my surprise they listened +with perfect silence; and when he had said “Amen,” there were great +clappings of hands, and cries of “Bravo.” They evidently considered the +prayer merely as an elocutionary show-piece. The preacher was much +disconcerted, but he recovered himself, and began his sermon, for it was +nothing more. He enlarged on the fact that men of the highest eminence +had believed in the Old Testament. Locke and Newton had believed in it, +and did it not prove arrogance in us to doubt when the “gigantic +intellect which had swept the skies, and had announced the law which +bound the universe together was satisfied?” The witness of the Old +Testament to the New was another argument, but his main reliance was upon +the prophecies. From Adam to Isaiah there was a continuous prefigurement +of Christ. Christ was the point to which everything tended; and “now, my +friends,” he said, “I cannot sit down without imploring you to turn your +eyes on Him who never yet repelled the sinner, to wash in that eternal +Fountain ever open for the remission of sins, and to flee from the wrath +to come. I believe the sacred symbol of the cross has not yet lost its +efficacy. For eighteen hundred years, whenever it has been exhibited to +the sons of men, it has been potent to reclaim and save them. ‘I, if I +be lifted up,’ cried the Great Sufferer, ‘will draw all men unto Me,’ and +He has drawn not merely the poor and ignorant but the philosopher and the +sage. Oh, my brethren, think what will happen if you reject Him. I +forbear to paint your doom. And think again, on the other hand, of the +bliss which awaits you if you receive Him, of the eternal companionship +with the Most High and with the spirits of just men made perfect.” His +hearers again applauded vigorously, and none less so than their appointed +leader, who was to follow on the other side. He was a little man with +small eyes; his shaven face was dark with a black beard lurking under the +skin, and his nose was slightly turned up. He was evidently a trained +debater who had practised under railway arches, discussion “forums,” and +in the classes promoted by his sect. He began by saying that he could +not compliment his friend who had just sat down on the inducements which +he had offered them to become Christians. The New Cut was not a nice +place on a wet day, but he had rather sit at a stall there all day long +with his feet on a basket than lie in the bosom of some of the just men +made perfect portrayed in the Bible. Nor, being married, should he feel +particularly at ease if he had to leave his wife with David. David +certainly ought to have got beyond all that kind of thing, considering it +must be over 3000 years since he first saw Bathsheba; but we are told +that the saints are for ever young in heaven, and this treacherous +villain, who would have been tried by a jury of twelve men and hung +outside Newgate if he had lived in the nineteenth century, might be +dangerous now. He was an amorous old gentleman up to the very last. +(Roars of laughter.) Nor did the speaker feel particularly anxious to be +shut up with all the bishops, who of course are amongst the elect, and on +their departure from this vale of tears tempered by ten thousand a year, +are duly supplied with wings. Much more followed in the same strain upon +the immorality of the Bible heroes, their cruelty, and the cruelty of the +God who sanctioned it. Then followed a clever exposition of the +inconsistencies of the Old Testament history, the impossibility of any +reference to Jesus therein, and a really earnest protest against the +quibbling by which those who believed in the Bible as a revelation sought +to reconcile it with science. “Finally,” said the speaker, “I am sure we +all of us will pass a vote of thanks to our reverend friend for coming to +see us, and we cordially invite him to come again. If I might be allowed +to offer a suggestion, it would be that he should make himself acquainted +with our case before he pays us another visit, and not suppose that we +are to be persuaded with the rhetoric which may do very well for the +young women of his congregation, but won’t go down here.” This was fair +and just, for the eminent Christian was nothing but an ordinary minister, +who, when he was prepared for his profession, had never been allowed to +see what are the historical difficulties of Christianity, lest he should +be overcome by them. On the other hand, his sceptical opponents were +almost devoid of the faculty for appreciating the great remains of +antiquity, and would probably have considered the machinery of the +Prometheus Bound or of the Iliad a sufficient reason for a sneer. That +they should spend their time in picking the Bible to pieces when there +was so much positive work for them to do, seemed to me as melancholy as +if they had spent themselves upon theology. To waste a Sunday morning in +ridiculing such stories as that of Jonah was surely as imbecile as to +waste it in proving their verbal veracity. + + + + +CHAPTER II +M’KAY + + +IT was foggy and overcast as we walked home to Goodge Street. The +churches and chapels were emptying themselves, but the great mass of the +population had been “nowhere.” I had dinner with M’Kay, and as the day +wore on the fog thickened. London on a dark Sunday afternoon, more +especially about Goodge Street, is depressing. The inhabitants drag +themselves hither and thither in languor and uncertainty. Small mobs +loiter at the doors of the gin palaces. Costermongers wander aimlessly, +calling “walnuts” with a cry so melancholy that it sounds as the wail of +the hopelessly lost may be imagined to sound when their anguish has been +deadened by the monotony of a million years. + +About two or three o’clock decent working men in their best clothes +emerge from the houses in such streets as Nassau Street. It is part of +their duty to go out after dinner on Sunday with the wife and children. +The husband pushes the perambulator out of the dingy passage, and gazes +doubtfully this way and that way, not knowing whither to go, and +evidently longing for the Monday, when his work, however disagreeable it +may be, will be his plain duty. The wife follows carrying a child, and a +boy and girl in unaccustomed apparel walk by her side. They come out +into Mortimer Street. There are no shops open; the sky over their heads +is mud, the earth is mud under their feet, the muddy houses stretch in +long rows, black, gaunt, uniform. The little party reach Hyde Park, also +wrapped in impenetrable mud-grey. The man’s face brightens for a moment +as he says, “It is time to go back,” and so they return, without the +interchange of a word, unless perhaps they happen to see an omnibus horse +fall down on the greasy stones. What is there worth thought or speech on +such an expedition? Nothing! The tradesman who kept the oil and colour +establishment opposite to us was not to be tempted outside. It was a +little more comfortable than Nassau Street, and, moreover, he was +religious and did not encourage Sabbath-breaking. He and his family +always moved after their mid-day Sabbath repast from the little back room +behind the shop up to what they called the drawing-room overhead. It was +impossible to avoid seeing them every time we went to the window. The +father of the family, after his heavy meal, invariably sat in the +easy-chair with a handkerchief over his eyes and slept. The children +were always at the windows, pretending to read books, but in reality +watching the people below. At about four o’clock their papa generally +awoke, and demanded a succession of hymn tunes played on the piano. When +the weather permitted, the lower sash was opened a little, and the +neighbours were indulged with the performance of “Vital Spark,” the +father “coming in” now and then with a bass note or two at the end where +he was tolerably certain of the harmony. At five o’clock a prophecy of +the incoming tea brought us some relief from the contemplation of the +landscape or brick-scape. I say “some relief,” for meals at M’Kay’s were +a little disagreeable. His wife was an honest, good little woman, but so +much attached to him and so dependent on him that she was his mere echo. +She had no opinions which were not his, and whenever he said anything +which went beyond the ordinary affairs of the house, she listened with +curious effort, and generally responded by a weakened repetition of +M’Kay’s own observations. He perpetually, therefore, had before him an +enfeebled reflection of himself, and this much irritated him, +notwithstanding his love for her; for who could help loving a woman who, +without the least hesitation, would have opened her veins at his command, +and have given up every drop of blood in her body for him? Over and over +again I have heard him offer some criticism on a person or event, and the +customary chime of approval would ensue, provoking him to such a degree +that he would instantly contradict himself with much bitterness, leaving +poor Mrs. M’Kay in much perplexity. Such a shot as this generally +reduced her to timid silence. As a rule, he always discouraged any topic +at his house which was likely to serve as an occasion for showing his +wife’s dependence on him. He designedly talked about her household +affairs, asked her whether she had mended his clothes and ordered the +coals. She knew that these things were not what was upon his mind, and +she answered him in despairing tones, which showed how much she felt the +obtrusive condescension to her level. I greatly pitied her, and +sometimes, in fact, my emotion at the sight of her struggles with her +limitations almost overcame me and I was obliged to get up and go. She +was childishly affectionate. If M’Kay came in and happened to go up to +her and kiss her, her face brightened into the sweetest and happiest +smile. I recollect once after he had been unusually annoyed with her he +repented just as he was leaving home, and put his lips to her head, +holding it in both his hands. I saw her gently take the hand from her +forehead and press it to her mouth, the tears falling down her cheek +meanwhile. Nothing would ever tempt her to admit anything against her +husband. M’Kay was violent and unjust at times. His occupation he +hated, and his restless repugnance to it frequently discharged itself +indifferently upon everything which came in his way. His children often +thought him almost barbarous, but in truth he did not actually see them +when he was in one of these moods. What was really present with him, +excluding everything else, was the sting of something more than usually +repulsive of which they knew nothing. Mrs. M’Kay’s answer to her +children’s remonstrances when they were alone with her always was, “He is +so worried,” and she invariably dwelt upon their faults which had given +him the opportunity for his wrath. + +I think M’Kay’s treatment of her wholly wrong. I think that he ought not +to have imposed himself upon her so imperiously. I think he ought to +have striven to ascertain what lay concealed in that modest heart, to +have encouraged its expression and development, to have debased himself +before her that she might receive courage to rise, and he would have +found that she had something which he had not; not _his_ something +perhaps, but something which would have made his life happier. As it +was, he stood upon his own ground above her. If she could reach him, +well and good, if not, the helping hand was not proffered, and she fell +back, hopeless. Later on he discovered his mistake. She became ill very +gradually, and M’Kay began to see in the distance a prospect of losing +her. A frightful pit came in view. He became aware that he could not do +without her. He imagined what his home would have been with other women +whom he knew, and he confessed that with them he would have been less +contented. He acknowledged that he had been guilty of a kind of criminal +epicurism; that he rejected in foolish, fatal, nay, even wicked +indifference, the bread of life upon which he might have lived and +thriven. His whole effort now was to suppress himself in his wife. He +read to her, a thing he never did before, and when she misunderstood, he +patiently explained; he took her into his counsels and asked her opinion; +he abandoned his own opinion for hers, and in the presence of her +children he always deferred to her, and delighted to acknowledge that she +knew more than he did, that she was right and he was wrong. She was now +confined to her house, and the end was near, but this was the most +blessed time of her married life. She grew under the soft rain of his +loving care, and opened out, not, indeed, into an oriental flower, rich +in profound mystery of scent and colour, but into a blossom of the +chalk-down. Altogether concealed and closed she would have remained if +it had not been for this beneficent and heavenly gift poured upon her. +He had just time enough to see what she really was, and then she died. +There are some natures that cannot unfold under pressure or in the +presence of unregarding power. Hers was one. They require a clear space +round them, the removal of everything which may overmaster them, and +constant delicate attention. They require too a recognition of the fact, +which M’Kay for a long time did not recognise, that it is folly to force +them and to demand of them that they shall be what they cannot be. I +stood by the grave this morning of my poor, pale, clinging little friend +now for some years at peace, and I thought that the tragedy of Promethean +torture or Christ-like crucifixion may indeed be tremendous, but there is +a tragedy too in the existence of a soul like hers, conscious of its +feebleness and ever striving to overpass it, ever aware that it is an +obstacle to the return of the affection of the man whom she loves. + +Meals, as I have said, were disagreeable at M’Kay’s, and when we wanted +to talk we went out of doors. The evening after our visit to the +debating hall we moved towards Portland Place, and walked up and down +there for an hour or more. M’Kay had a passionate desire to reform the +world. The spectacle of the misery of London, and of the distracted +swaying hither and thither of the multitudes who inhabit it, tormented +him incessantly. He always chafed at it, and he never seemed sure that +he had a right to the enjoyment of the simplest pleasures so long as +London was before him. What a farce, he would cry, is all this poetry, +philosophy, art, and culture, when millions of wretched mortals are +doomed to the eternal darkness and crime of the city! Here are the +educated classes occupying themselves with exquisite emotions, with +speculations upon the Infinite, with addresses to flowers, with the +worship of waterfalls and flying clouds, and with the incessant +portraiture of a thousand moods and variations of love, while their +neighbours lie grovelling in the mire, and never know anything more of +life or its duties than is afforded them by a police report in a bit of +newspaper picked out of the kennel. We went one evening to hear a great +violin-player, who played such music, and so exquisitely, that the limits +of life were removed. But we had to walk up the Haymarket home, between +eleven and twelve o’clock, and the violin-playing became the merest +trifling. M’Kay had been brought up upon the Bible. He had before him, +not only there, but in the history of all great religious movements, a +record of the improvement of the human race, or of large portions of it, +not merely by gradual civilisation, but by inspiration spreading itself +suddenly. He could not get it out of his head that something of this +kind is possible again in our time. He longed to try for himself in his +own poor way in one of the slums about Drury Lane. I sympathised with +him, but I asked him what he had to say. I remember telling him that I +had been into St. Paul’s Cathedral, and that I pictured to myself the +cathedral full, and myself in the pulpit. I was excited while imagining +the opportunity offered me of delivering some message to three or four +thousand persons in such a building, but in a minute or two I discovered +that my sermon would be very nearly as follows: “Dear friends, I know no +more than you know; we had better go home.” I admitted to him that if he +could believe in hell-fire, or if he could proclaim the Second Advent, as +Paul did to the Thessalonians, and get people to believe, he might change +their manners, but otherwise he could do nothing but resort to a much +slower process. With the departure of a belief in the supernatural +departs once and for ever the chance of regenerating the race except by +the school and by science. {31} However, M’Kay thought he would try. +His earnestness was rather a hindrance than a help to him, for it +prevented his putting certain important questions to himself, or at any +rate it prevented his waiting for distinct answers. He recurred to the +apostles and Bunyan, and was convinced that it was possible even now to +touch depraved men and women with an idea which should recast their +lives. So it is that the main obstacle to our success is a success which +has preceded us. We instinctively follow the antecedent form, and +consequently we either pass by, or deny altogether, the life of our own +time, because its expression has changed. We never do practically +believe that the Messiah is not incarnated twice in the same flesh. He +came as Jesus, and we look for Him as Jesus now, overlooking the +manifestation of to-day, and dying, perhaps, without recognising it. + +M’Kay had found a room near Parker Street, Drury Lane, in which he +proposed to begin, and that night, as we trod the pavement of Portland +Place, he propounded his plans to me, I listening without much +confidence, but loth nevertheless to take the office of Time upon myself, +and to disprove what experience would disprove more effectually. His +object was nothing less than gradually to attract Drury Lane to come and +be saved. + +The first Sunday I went with him to the room. As we walked over the +Drury Lane gratings of the cellars a most foul stench came up, and one in +particular I remember to this day. A man half dressed pushed open a +broken window beneath us, just as we passed by, and there issued such a +blast of corruption, made up of gases bred by filth, air breathed and +rebreathed a hundred times, charged with odours of unnameable personal +uncleanness and disease, that I staggered to the gutter with a qualm +which I could scarcely conquer. At the doors of the houses stood grimy +women with their arms folded and their hair disordered. Grimier boys and +girls had tied a rope to broken railings, and were swinging on it. The +common door to a score of lodgings stood ever open, and the children +swarmed up and down the stairs carrying with them patches of mud every +time they came in from the street. The wholesome practice which amongst +the decent poor marks off at least one day in the week as a day on which +there is to be a change; when there is to be some attempt to procure +order and cleanliness; a day to be preceded by soap and water, by +shaving, and by as many clean clothes as can be procured, was unknown +here. There was no break in the uniformity of squalor; nor was it even +possible for any single family to emerge amidst such altogether +suppressive surroundings. All self-respect, all effort to do anything +more than to satisfy somehow the grossest wants, had departed. The shops +were open; most of them exhibiting a most miscellaneous collection of +goods, such as bacon cut in slices, fire-wood, a few loaves of bread, and +sweetmeats in dirty bottles. Fowls, strange to say, black as the +flagstones, walked in and out of these shops, or descended into the dark +areas. The undertaker had not put up his shutters. He had drawn down a +yellow blind, on which was painted a picture of a suburban cemetery. Two +funerals, the loftiest effort of his craft, were depicted approaching the +gates. When the gas was alight behind the blind, an effect was produced +which was doubtless much admired. He also displayed in his window a +model coffin, a work of art. It was about a foot long, varnished, +studded with little brass nails, and on the lid was fastened a rustic +cross stretching from end to end. The desire to decorate existence in +some way or other with more or less care is nearly universal. The most +sensual and the meanest almost always manifest an indisposition to be +content with mere material satisfaction. I have known selfish, +gluttonous, drunken men spend their leisure moments in trimming a bed of +scarlet geraniums, and the vulgarest and most commonplace of mortals +considers it a necessity to put a picture in the room or an ornament on +the mantelpiece. The instinct, even in its lowest forms, is divine. It +is the commentary on the text that man shall not live by bread alone. It +is evidence of an acknowledged compulsion—of which art is the highest +manifestation—to _escape_. In the alleys behind Drury Lane this +instinct, the very salt of life, was dead, crushed out utterly, a symptom +which seemed to me ominous, and even awful to the last degree. The only +house in which it survived was in that of the undertaker, who displayed +the willows, the black horses, and the coffin. These may have been +nothing more than an advertisement, but from the care with which the +cross was elaborated, and the neatness with which it was made to resemble +a natural piece of wood, I am inclined to believe that the man felt some +pleasure in his work for its own sake, and that he was not utterly +submerged. The cross in such dens as these, or, worse than dens, in such +sewers! If it be anything, it is a symbol of victory, of power to +triumph over resistance, and even death. Here was nothing but sullen +subjugation, the most grovelling slavery, mitigated only by a tendency to +mutiny. Here was a strength of circumstance to quell and dominate which +neither Jesus nor Paul could have overcome—worse a thousandfold than +Scribes or Pharisees, or any form of persecution. The preaching of Jesus +would have been powerless here; in fact, no known stimulus, nothing ever +held up before men to stir the soul to activity, can do anything in the +back streets of great cities so long as they are the cesspools which they +are now. + +We came to the room. About a score of M’Kay’s own friends were there, +and perhaps half-a-dozen outsiders, attracted by the notice which had +been pasted on a board at the entrance. M’Kay announced his errand. The +ignorance and misery of London he said were intolerable to him. He could +not take any pleasure in life when he thought upon them. What could he +do? that was the question. He was not a man of wealth. He could not buy +up these hovels. He could not force an entrance into them and persuade +their inhabitants to improve themselves. He had no talents wherewith to +found a great organisation or create public opinion. He had determined, +after much thought, to do what he was now doing. It was very little, but +it was all he could undertake. He proposed to keep this room open as a +place to which those who wished might resort at different times, and find +some quietude, instruction, and what fortifying thoughts he could collect +to enable men to endure their almost unendurable sufferings. He did not +intend to teach theology. Anything which would be serviceable he would +set forth, but in the main he intended to rely on holding up the examples +of those who were greater than ourselves and were our redeemers. He +meant to teach Christ in the proper sense of the word. Christ now is +admired probably more than He had ever been. Everybody agrees to admire +Him, but where are the people who really do what He did? There is no +religion now-a-days. Religion is a mere literature. Cultivated persons +sit in their studies and write overflowingly about Jesus, or meet at +parties and talk about Him; but He is not of much use to me unless I say +to myself, _how is it with thee_? unless I myself become what He was. +This was the meaning of Jesus to the Apostle Paul. Jesus was in him; he +had put on Jesus; that is to say, Jesus lived in him like a second soul, +taking the place of his own soul and directing him accordingly. That was +religion, and it is absurd to say that the English nation at this moment, +or any section of it, is religious. Its educated classes are inhabited +by a hundred minds. We are in a state of anarchy, each of us with a +different aim and shaping himself according to a different type; while +the uneducated classes are entirely given over to the “natural man.” He +was firmly persuaded that we need religion, poor and rich alike. We need +some controlling influence to bind together our scattered energies. We +do not know what we are doing. We read one book one day and another book +another day, but it is idle wandering to right and left; it is not +advancing on a straight road. It is not possible to bind ourselves down +to a certain defined course, but still it is an enormous, an incalculable +advantage for us to have some irreversible standard set up in us by which +everything we meet is to be judged. That is the meaning of the +prophecy—whether it will ever be fulfilled God only knows—that Christ +shall judge the world. All religions have been this. They have said +that in the midst of the infinitely possible—infinitely possible evil and +infinitely possible good too—we become distracted. A thousand forces +good and bad act upon us. It is necessary, if we are to be men, if we +are to be saved, that we should be rescued from this tumult, and that our +feet should be planted upon a path. His object, therefore, would be to +preach Christ, as before said, and to introduce into human life His +unifying influence. He would try and get them to see things with the +eyes of Christ, to love with His love, to judge with His judgment. He +believed Christ was fitted to occupy this place. He deliberately chose +Christ as worthy to be our central, shaping force. He would try by +degrees to prove this; to prove that Christ’s way of dealing with life is +the best way, and so to create a genuinely Christian spirit, which, when +any choice of conduct is presented to us, will prompt us to ask first of +all, _how would Christ have it_? or, when men and things pass before us, +will decide through him what we have to say about them. M’Kay added that +he hoped his efforts would not be confined to talking. He trusted to be +able, by means of this little meeting, gradually to gain admittance for +himself and his friends into the houses of the poor and do some practical +good. At present he had no organisation and no plans. He did not +believe in organisation and plans preceding a clear conception of what +was to be accomplished. Such, as nearly as I can now recollect, is an +outline of his discourse. It was thoroughly characteristic of him. He +always talked in this fashion. He was for ever insisting on the +aimlessness of modern life, on the powerlessness of its vague activities +to mould men into anything good, to restrain them from evil or moderate +their passions, and he was possessed by a vision of a new Christianity +which was to take the place of the old and dead theologies. I have +reported him in my own language. He strove as much as he could to make +his meaning plain to everybody. Just before he finished, three or four +out of the half-a-dozen outsiders who were present whistled with all +their might and ran down the stairs shouting to one another. As we went +out they had collected about the door, and amused themselves by pushing +one another against us, and kicking an old kettle behind us and amongst +us all the way up the street, so that we were covered with splashes. +Mrs. M’Kay went with us, and when we reached home, she tried to say +something about what she had heard. The cloud came over her husband’s +face at once; he remained silent for a minute, and getting up and going +to the window, observed that it ought to be cleaned, and that he could +hardly see the opposite house. The poor woman looked distressed, and I +was just about to come to her rescue by continuing what she had been +saying, when she rose, not in anger, but in trouble, and went upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER III +MISS LEROY + + +DURING the great French war there were many French prisoners in my native +town. They led a strange isolated life, for they knew nothing of our +language, nor, in those days, did three people in the town understand +theirs. The common soldiers amused themselves by making little trifles +and selling them. I have now before me a box of coloured straw with the +date 1799 on the bottom, which was bought by my grandfather. One of +these prisoners was an officer named Leroy. Why he did not go back to +France I never heard, but I know that before I was born he was living +near our house on a small income; that he tried to teach French, and that +he had as his companion a handsome daughter who grew up speaking English. +What she was like when she was young I cannot say, but I have had her +described to me over and over again. She had rather darkish brown hair, +and she was tall and straight as an arrow. This she was, by the way, +even into old age. She surprised, shocked, and attracted all the sober +persons in our circle. Her ways were not their ways. She would walk out +by herself on a starry night without a single companion, and cause +thereby infinite talk, which would have converged to a single focus if it +had not happened that she was also in the habit of walking out at four +o’clock on a summer’s morning, and that in the church porch of a little +village not far from us, which was her favourite resting-place, a copy of +the _De Imitatione Christi_ was found which belonged to her. So the talk +was scattered again and its convergence prevented. She used to say +doubtful things about love. One of them struck my mother with horror. +Miss Leroy told a male person once, and told him to his face, that if she +loved him and he loved her, and they agreed to sign one another’s +foreheads with a cross as a ceremony, it would be as good to her as +marriage. This may seem a trifle, but nobody now can imagine what was +thought of it at the time it was spoken. My mother repeated it every now +and then for fifty years. It may be conjectured how easily any other +girls of our acquaintance would have been classified, and justly +classified, if they had uttered such barefaced Continental immorality. +Miss Leroy’s neighbours were remarkably apt at classifying their +fellow-creatures. They had a few, a very few holes, into which they +dropped their neighbours, and they must go into one or the other. +Nothing was more distressing than a specimen which, notwithstanding all +the violence which might be used to it, would not fit into a hole, but +remained an exception. Some lout, I believe, reckoning on the legitimacy +of his generalisation, and having heard of this and other observations +accredited to Miss Leroy, ventured to be slightly rude to her. What she +said to him was never known, but he was always shy afterwards of +mentioning her name, and when he did he was wont to declare that she was +“a rum un.” She was not particular, I have heard, about personal +tidiness, and this I can well believe, for she was certainly not +distinguished when I knew her for this virtue. She cared nothing for the +linen-closet, the spotless bed-hangings, and the bright poker, which were +the true household gods of the respectable women of those days. She +would have been instantly set down as “slut,” and as having “nasty dirty +forrin ways,” if a peculiar habit of hers had not unfortunately presented +itself, most irritating to her critics, so anxious promptly to gratify +their philosophic tendency towards scientific grouping. Mrs. Mobbs, who +lived next door to her, averred that she always slept with the window +open. Mrs. Mobbs, like everybody else, never opened her window except to +“air the room.” Mrs. Mobbs’ best bedroom was carpeted all over, and +contained a great four-post bedstead, hung round with heavy hangings, and +protected at the top from draughts by a kind of firmament of white +dimity. Mrs. Mobbs stuffed a sack of straw up the chimney of the +fireplace, to prevent the fall of the “sutt,” as she called it. Mrs. +Mobbs, if she had a visitor, gave her a hot supper, and expected her +immediately afterwards to go upstairs, draw the window curtains, get into +this bed, draw the bed curtains also, and wake up the next morning +“bilious.” This was the proper thing to do. Miss Leroy’s sitting-room +was decidedly disorderly; the chairs were dusty; “yer might write yer +name on the table,” Mrs. Mobbs declared; but, nevertheless, the casement +was never closed night nor day; and, moreover, Miss Leroy was believed by +the strongest circumstantial evidence to wash herself all over every +morning, a habit which Mrs. Mobbs thought “weakening,” and somehow +connected with ethical impropriety. When Miss Leroy was married, and +first as an elderly woman became known to me, she was very +inconsequential in her opinions, or at least appeared so to our eyes. +She must have been much more so when she was younger. In our town we +were all formed upon recognised patterns, and those who possessed any one +mark of the pattern, had all. The wine-merchant, for example, who went +to church, eminently respectable, Tory, by no means associating with the +tradesfolk who displayed their goods in the windows, knowing no +“experience,” and who had never felt the outpouring of the Spirit, was a +specimen of a class like him. Another class was represented by the +dissenting ironmonger, deacon, presiding at prayer-meetings, strict +Sabbatarian, and believer in eternal punishments; while a third was set +forth by “Guffy,” whose real name was unknown, who got drunk, unloaded +barges, assisted at the municipal elections, and was never once seen +inside a place of worship. These patterns had existed amongst us from +the dimmest antiquity, and were accepted as part of the eternal order of +things; so much so, that the deacon, although he professed to be sure +that nobody who had not been converted would escape the fire—and the +wine-merchant certainly had not been converted—was very far from +admitting to himself that the wine-merchant ought to be converted, or +that it would be proper to try and convert him. I doubt, indeed, whether +our congregation would have been happy, or would have thought any the +better of him, if he had left the church. Such an event, however, could +no more come within the reach of our vision than a reversal of the +current of our river. It would have broken up our foundations and +party-walls, and would have been considered as ominous, and anything but +a subject for thankfulness. But Miss Leroy was not the wine-merchant, +nor the ironmonger, nor Guffy, and even now I cannot trace the hidden +centre of union from which sprang so much that was apparently +irreconcilable. She was a person whom nobody could have created in +writing a novel, because she was so inconsistent. As I have said before, +she studied Thomas à Kempis, and her little French Bible was brown with +constant use. But then she read much fiction in which there were scenes +which would have made our hair stand on end. The only thing she +constantly abhorred in books was what was dull and opaque. Yet, as we +shall see presently, her dislike to dulness, once at least in her life, +notably failed her. She was not Catholic, and professed herself +Protestant, but such a Protestantism! She had no sceptical doubts. She +believed implicitly that the Bible was the Word of God, and that +everything in it was true, but her interpretation of it was of the +strangest kind. Almost all our great doctrines seemed shrunk to nothing +in her eyes, while others, which were nothing to us, were all-important +to her. The atonement, for instance, I never heard her mention, but +Unitarianism was hateful to her, and Jesus was her God in every sense of +the word. On the other hand, she was partly Pagan, for she knew very +little of that consideration for the feeble, and even for the foolish, +which is the glory of Christianity. She was rude to foolish people, and +she instinctively kept out of the way of all disease and weakness, so +that in this respect she was far below the commonplace tradesman’s wife, +who visited the sick, sat up with them, and, in fact, never seemed so +completely in her element as when she could be with anybody who was ill +in bed. + +Miss Leroy’s father was republican, and so was my grandfather. My +grandfather and old Leroy were the only people in our town who refused to +illuminate when a victory was gained over the French. Leroy’s windows +were spared on the ground that he was not a Briton, but the mob +endeavoured to show my grandfather the folly of his belief in democracy +by smashing every pane of glass in front of his house with stones. This +drew him and Leroy together, and the result was, that although Leroy +himself never set foot inside any chapel or church, Miss Leroy was often +induced to attend our meeting-house in company with a maiden aunt of +mine, who rather “took to her.” Now comes the for ever mysterious +passage in history. There was amongst the attendants at that +meeting-house a young man who was apprentice to a miller. He was a big, +soft, quiet, plump-faced, awkward youth, very good, but nothing more. He +wore on Sunday a complete suit of light pepper-and-salt clothes, and +continued to wear pepper-and-salt on Sunday all his life. He taught in +the Sunday-school, and afterwards, as he got older, he was encouraged to +open his lips at a prayer-meeting, and to “take the service” in the +village chapels on Sunday evening. He was the most singularly placid, +even-tempered person I ever knew. I first became acquainted with him +when I was a child and he was past middle life. What he was then, I am +told, he always was; and I certainly never heard one single violent word +escape his lips. His habits, even when young, had a tendency to harden. +He went to sleep after his mid-day dinner with the greatest regularity, +and he never could keep awake if he sat by a fire after dark. I have +seen him, when kneeling at family worship and praying with his family, +lose himself for an instant and nod his head, to the confusion of all who +were around him. He is dead now, but he lived to a good old age, which +crept upon him gradually with no pain, and he passed away from this world +to the next in a peaceful doze. He never read anything, for the simple +reason that whenever he was not at work or at chapel he slumbered. To +the utter amazement of everybody, it was announced one fine day that Miss +Leroy and he—George Butts—were to be married. They were about the last +people in the world, who, it was thought, could be brought together. My +mother was stunned, and never completely recovered. I have seen her, +forty years after George Butts’ wedding-day, lift up her hands, and have +heard her call out with emotion, as fresh as if the event were of +yesterday, “What made that girl have George I can _not_ think—but there!” +What she meant by the last two words we could not comprehend. Many of +her acquaintances interpreted them to mean that she knew more than she +dared communicate, but I think they were mistaken. I am quite certain if +she had known anything she must have told it, and, in the next place, the +phrase “but there” was not uncommon amongst women in our town, and was +supposed to mark the consciousness of a prudently restrained ability to +give an explanation of mysterious phenomena in human relationships. For +my own part, I am just as much in the dark as my mother. My father, who +was a shrewd man, was always puzzled, and could not read the riddle. He +used to say that he never thought George could have “made up” to any +young woman, and it was quite clear that Miss Leroy did not either then +or afterwards display any violent affection for him. I have heard her +criticise and patronise him as a “good soul,” but incapable, as indeed he +was, of all sympathy with her. After marriage she went her way and he +his. She got up early, as she was wont to do, and took her Bible into +the fields while he was snoring. She would then very likely suffer from +a terrible headache during the rest of the day, and lie down for hours, +letting the house manage itself as best it could. What made her +selection of George more obscure was that she was much admired by many +young fellows, some of whom were certainly more akin to her than he was; +and I have heard from one or two reports of encouraging words, and even +something more than words, which she had vouchsafed to them. A solution +is impossible. The affinities, repulsions, reasons in a nature like that +of Miss Leroy’s are so secret and so subtle, working towards such +incalculable and not-to-be-predicted results, that to attempt to make a +major and minor premiss and an inevitable conclusion out of them would be +useless. One thing was clear, that by marrying George she gained great +freedom. If she had married anybody closer to her, she might have jarred +with him; there might have been collision and wreck as complete as if +they had been entirely opposed; for she was not the kind of person to +accommodate herself to others even in the matter of small differences. +But George’s road through space lay entirely apart from hers, and there +was not the slightest chance of interference. She was under the +protection of a husband; she could do things that, as an unmarried woman, +especially in a foreign land, she could not do, and the compensatory +sacrifice to her was small. This is really the only attempt at +elucidation I can give. She went regularly all her life to chapel with +George, but even when he became deacon, and “supplied” the villages +round, she never would join the church as a member. She never agreed +with the minister, and he never could make anything out of her. They did +not quarrel, but she thought nothing of his sermons, and he was perplexed +and uncomfortable in the presence of a nondescript who did not respond to +any dogmatic statement of the articles of religion, and who yet could not +be put aside as “one of those in the gallery”—that is to say, as one of +the ordinary unconverted, for she used to quote hymns with amazing +fervour, and she quoted them to him with a freedom and a certain +superiority which he might have expected from an aged brother minister, +but certainly not from one of his own congregation. He was a preacher of +the Gospel, it was true; and it was his duty, a duty on which he +insisted, to be “instant in season and out of season” in saying spiritual +things to his flock; but then they were things proper, decent, +conventional, uttered with gravity at suitable times—such as were +customary amongst all the ministers of the denomination. It was not +pleasant to be outbid in his own department, especially by one who was +not a communicant, and to be obliged, when he went on a pastoral visit to +a house in which Mrs. Butts happened to be, to sit still and hear her, +regardless of the minister’s presence, conclude a short mystical +monologue with Cowper’s verse— + + “Exults our rising soul, + Disburdened of her load, + And swells unutterably full + Of glory and of God.” + +This was _not_ pleasant to our minister, nor was it pleasant to the +minister’s wife. But George Butts held a responsible position in our +community, and the minister’s wife held also a responsible position, so +that she taxed all her ingenuity to let her friends understand at +tea-parties what she thought of Mrs. Butts without saying anything which +could be the ground of formal remonstrance. Thus did Mrs. Butts live +among us, as an Arabian bird with its peculiar habits, cries, and plumage +might live in one of our barn-yards with the ordinary barn-door fowls. + +I was never happier when I was a boy than when I was with Mrs. Butts at +the mill, which George had inherited. There was a grand freedom in her +house. The front door leading into the garden was always open. There +was no precise separation between the house and the mill. The business +and the dwelling-place were mixed up together, and covered with flour. +Mr. Butts was in the habit of walking out of his mill into the +living-room every now and then, and never dreamed when one o’clock came +that it was necessary for him to change his floury coat before he had his +dinner. His cap he also often retained, and in any weather, not +extraordinarily cold, he sat in his shirtsleeves. The garden was large +and half-wild. A man from the mill, if work was slack, gave a day to it +now and then, but it was not trimmed and raked and combed like the other +gardens in the town. It was full of gooseberry trees, and I was +permitted to eat the gooseberries without stint. The mill-life, too, was +inexpressibly attractive—the dark chamber with the great, green, dripping +wheel in it, so awfully mysterious as the central life of the whole +structure; the machinery connected with the wheel—I knew not how; the +hole where the roach lay by the side of the mill-tail in the eddy; the +haunts of the water-rats which we used to hunt with Spot, the black and +tan terrier, and the still more exciting sport with the ferrets—all this +drew me down the lane perpetually. I liked, and even loved Mrs. Butts, +too, for her own sake. Her kindness to me was unlimited, and she was +never overcome with the fear of “spoiling me,” which seemed the constant +dread of most of my hostesses. I never lost my love for her. It grew as +I grew, despite my mother’s scarcely suppressed hostility to her, and +when I heard she was ill, and was likely to die, I went to be with her. +She was eighty years old then. I sat by her bedside with her hand in +mine. I was there when she passed away, and—but I have no mind and no +power to say any more, for all the memories of her affection and of the +sunny days by the water come over me and prevent the calmness necessary +for a chronicle. She with all her faults and eccentricities will always +have in my heart a little chapel with an ever-burning light. She was one +of the very very few whom I have ever seen who knew how to love a child. + +Mrs. Butts and George had one son who was named Clement. He was exactly +my own age, and naturally we were constant companions. We went to the +same school. He never distinguished himself at his books, but he was +chief among us. He had a versatile talent for almost every +accomplishment in which we delighted, but he was not supreme in any one +of them. There were better cricketers, better football players, better +hands at setting a night-line, better swimmers than Clem, but he could do +something, and do it well, in all these departments. He generally took +up a thing with much eagerness for a time, and then let it drop. He was +foremost in introducing new games and new fashions, which he permitted to +flourish for a time, and then superseded. As he grew up he displayed a +taste for drawing and music. He was soon able to copy little paintings +of flowers, or even little country scenes, and to play a piece of no very +great difficulty with tolerable effect. But as he never was taught by a +master, and never practised elementary exercises and studies, he was +deficient in accuracy. When the question came what was to be done with +him after he left school, his father naturally wished him to go into the +mill. Clem, however, set his face steadily against this project, and his +mother, who was a believer in his genius, supported him. He actually +wanted to go to the University, a thing unheard of in those days amongst +our people; but this was not possible, and after dangling about for some +time at home, he obtained the post of usher in a school, an occupation +which he considered more congenial and intellectual than that of grinding +flour. Strange to say, although he knew less than any of his colleagues, +he succeeded better than any of them. He managed to impress a sense of +his own importance upon everybody, including the headmaster. He slid +into a position of superiority above three or four colleagues who would +have shamed him at an examination, and who uttered many a curse because +they saw themselves surpassed and put in the shade by a stranger, who, +they were confident, could hardly construct a hexameter. He never +quarrelled with them nor did he grossly patronise them, but he always let +them know that he considered himself above them. His reading was +desultory; in fact, everything he did was desultory. He was not selfish +in the ordinary sense of the word. Rather was he distinguished by a +large and liberal open-handedness; but he was liberal also to himself to +a remarkable degree, dressing himself expensively, and spending a good +deal of money in luxuries. He was specially fond of insisting on his +half French origin, made a great deal of his mother, was silent as to his +father, and always signed himself C. Leroy Butts, although I don’t +believe the second Christian name was given him in baptism. +Notwithstanding his generosity he was egotistical and hollow at heart. +He knew nothing of friendship in the best sense of the word, but had a +multitude of acquaintances, whom he invariably sought amongst those who +were better off than himself. He was popular with them, for no man knew +better than he how to get up an entertainment, or to make a success of an +evening party. He had not been at his school for two years before he +conceived the notion of setting up for himself. He had not a penny, but +he borrowed easily what was wanted from somebody he knew, and in a +twelvemonth more he had a dozen pupils. He took care to get the ablest +subordinates he could find, and he succeeded in passing a boy for an open +scholarship at Oxford, against two competitors prepared by the very man +whom he had formerly served. After this he prospered greatly, and would +have prospered still more, if his love of show and extravagance had not +increased with his income. His talents were sometimes taxed when people +who came to place their sons with him supposed ignorantly that his origin +and attainments were what might be expected from his position; and poor +Chalmers, a Glasgow M.A., who still taught, for £80 a year, the third +class in the establishment in which Butts began life, had some bitter +stories on that subject. Chalmers was a perfect scholar, but he was not +agreeable. He had black finger-nails, and wore dirty collars. Having a +lively remembrance of his friend’s “general acquaintance” with Latin +prosody, Chalmers’ opinion of Providence was much modified when he +discovered what Providence was doing for Butts. Clem took to the Church +when he started for himself. It would have been madness in him to remain +a Dissenter. But in private, if it suited his purpose, he could always +be airily sceptical, and he had a superficial acquaintance, second-hand, +with a multitude of books, many of them of an infidel turn. I once +rebuked him for his hypocrisy, and his defence was that religious +disputes were indifferent to him, and that at any rate a man associates +with gentlemen if he is a churchman. Cultivation and manners he thought +to be of more importance than Calvinism. I believe that he partly meant +what he said. He went to church because the school would have failed if +he had gone to chapel; but he was sufficiently keen-sighted and clever to +be beyond the petty quarrels of the sects, and a song well sung was of +much greater moment to him than an essay on pædo-baptism. It was all +very well of Chalmers to revile him for his shallowness. He was shallow, +and yet he possessed in some mysterious way a talent which I greatly +coveted, and which in this world is inestimably precious—the talent of +making people give way before him—a capacity of self-impression. +Chalmers could never have commanded anybody. He had no power whatever, +even when he was right, to put his will against the wills of others, but +yielded first this way and then the other. Clem, on the contrary, +without any difficulty or any effort, could conquer all opposition, and +smilingly force everybody to do his bidding. + +Clem had a peculiar theory with regard to his own rights and those of the +class to which he considered that he belonged. He always held implicitly +and sometimes explicitly that gifted people live under a kind of +dispensation of grace; the law existing solely for dull souls. What in a +clown is a crime punishable by the laws of the land might in a man of +genius be a necessary development, or at any rate an excusable offence. +He had nothing to say for the servant-girl who had sinned with the +shopman, but if artist or poet were to carry off another man’s wife, it +might not be wrong. + +He believed, and acted upon the belief, that the inferior ought to render +perpetual incense to the superior, and that the superior should receive +it as a matter of course. When his father was ill he never waited on him +or sat up a single night with him. If duty was disagreeable to him Clem +paid homage to it afar off, but pleaded exemption. He admitted that +waiting on the sick is obligatory on people who are fitted for it, and is +very charming. Nothing was more beautiful to him than tender, filial +care spending itself for a beloved object. But it was not his vocation. +His nerves were more finely ordered than those of mankind generally, and +the sight of disease and suffering distressed him too much. Everything +was surrendered to him in the houses of his friends. If any +inconvenience was to be endured, he was the first person to be protected +from it, and he accepted the greatest sacrifices, with a graceful +acknowledgment, it is true, but with no repulse. To what better purpose +could the best wine be put than in cherishing his imagination. It was +simple waste to allow it to be poured out upon the earth, and to give it +to a fool was no better. After he succeeded so well in the world, Clem, +to a great extent, deserted me, although I was his oldest friend and the +friend of his childhood. I heard that he visited a good many rich +persons, that he made much of them, and they made much of him. He kept +up a kind of acquaintance with me, not by writing to me, but by the very +cheap mode of sending me a newspaper now and then with a marked paragraph +in it announcing the exploits of his school at a cricket-match, or +occasionally with a report of a lecture which he had delivered. He was a +decent orator, and from motives of business if from no other, he not +unfrequently spoke in public. One or two of these lectures wounded me a +good deal. There was one in particular on _As You Like It_, in which he +held up to admiration the fidelity which is so remarkable in Shakespeare, +and lamented that in these days it was so rare to find anything of the +kind, he thought that we were becoming more indifferent to one another. +He maintained, however, that man should be everything to man, and he then +enlarged on the duty of really cultivating affection, of its superiority +to books, and on the pleasure and profit of self-denial. I do not mean +to accuse Clem of downright hypocrisy. I have known many persons come up +from the country and go into raptures over a playhouse sun and moon who +have never bestowed a glance or a thought on the real sun and moon to be +seen from their own doors; and we are all aware it by no means follows +because we are moved to our very depths by the spectacle of unrecognised, +uncomplaining endurance in a novel, that therefore we can step over the +road to waste an hour or a sixpence upon the unrecognised, uncomplaining +endurance of the poor lone woman left a widow in the little villa there. +I was annoyed with myself because Clem’s abandonment of me so much +affected me. I wished I could cut the rope and carelessly cast him +adrift as he had cast me adrift, but I could not. I never could make out +and cannot make out what was the secret of his influence over me; why I +was unable to say, “If you do not care for me I do not care for you.” I +longed sometimes for complete rupture, so that we might know exactly +where we were, but it never came. Gradually our intercourse grew thinner +and thinner, until at last I heard that he had been spending a fortnight +with some semi-aristocratic acquaintance within five miles of me, and +during the whole of that time he never came near me. I met him in a +railway station soon afterwards, when he came up to me effusive and +apparently affectionate. “It was a real grief to me, my dear fellow,” he +said, “that I could not call on you last month, but the truth was I was +so driven: they would make me go here and go there, and I kept putting +off my visit to you till it was too late.” Fortunately my train was just +starting, or I don’t know what might have happened. I said not a word; +shook hands with him; got into the carriage; he waved his hat to me, and +I pretended not to see him, but I did see him, and saw him turn round +immediately to some well-dressed officer-like gentleman with whom he +walked laughing down the platform. The rest of that day was black to me. +I cared for nothing. I passed away from the thought of Clem, and dwelt +upon the conviction which had long possessed me that I was +_insignificant_, that there was _nothing much in me_, and it was this +which destroyed my peace. We may reconcile ourselves to poverty and +suffering, but few of us can endure the conviction that there is _nothing +in us_, and that consequently we cannot expect anybody to gravitate +towards us with any forceful impulse. It is a bitter experience. And +yet there is consolation. The universe is infinite. In the presence of +its celestial magnitudes who is there who is really great or small, and +what is the difference between you and me, my work and yours? I sought +refuge in the idea of GOD, the God of a starry night with its +incomprehensible distances; and I was at peace, content to be the meanest +worm of all the millions that crawl on the earth. + + + + +CHAPTER IV +A NECESSARY DEVELOPMENT + + +THE few friends who have read the first part of my autobiography may +perhaps remember that in my younger days I had engaged myself to a girl +named Ellen, from whom afterwards I parted. After some two or three +years she was left an orphan, and came into the possession of a small +property, over which unfortunately she had complete power. She was +attractive and well-educated, and I heard long after I had broken with +her, and had ceased to have intercourse with Butts, that the two were +married. He of course, living so near her, had known her well, and he +found her money useful. How they agreed I knew not save by report, but I +was told that after the first child was born, the only child they ever +had, Butts grew indifferent to her, and that she, to use my friend’s +expression, “went off,” by which I suppose he meant that she faded. +There happened in those days to live near Butts a small squire, married, +but with no family. He was a lethargic creature, about five-and-thirty +years old, farming eight hundred acres of his own land. He did not, +however, belong to the farming class. He had been to Harrow, was on the +magistrates’ bench, and associated with the small aristocracy of the +country round. He was like every other squire whom I remember in my +native county, and I can remember scores of them. He read no books and +tolerated the usual conventional breaches of the moral law, but was an +intense worshipper of respectability, and hated a scandal. On one point +he differed from his neighbours. He was a Whig and they were all Tories. +I have said he read no books, and this, on the whole, is true, but +nevertheless he did know something about the history of the early part of +the century, and he was rather fond at political gatherings of making +some allusion to Mr. Fox. His father had sat in the House of Commons +when Fox was there, and had sternly opposed the French war. I don’t +suppose that anybody not actually _in it_—no Londoner certainly—can +understand the rigidity of the bonds which restricted county society when +I was young, and for aught I know may restrict it now. There was with us +one huge and dark exception to the general uniformity. The earl had +broken loose, had ruined his estate, had defied decorum and openly lived +with strange women at home and in Paris, but this black background did +but set off the otherwise universal adhesion to the Church and to +authorised manners, an adhesion tempered and rendered tolerable by port +wine. It must not, however, be supposed that human nature was different +from the human nature of to-day or a thousand years ago. There were +then, even as there were a thousand years ago, and are to-day, small, +secret doors, connected with mysterious staircases, by which access was +gained to freedom; and men and women, inmates of castles with walls a +yard thick, and impenetrable portcullises, sought those doors and +descended those stairs night and day. But nobody knew, or if we did +know, the silence was profound. The broad-shouldered, yellow-haired Whig +squire, had a wife who was the opposite of him. She came from a distant +part of the country, and had been educated in France. She was small, +with black hair, and yet with blue eyes. She spoke French perfectly, was +devoted to music, read French books, and, although she was a constant +attendant at church, and gave no opportunity whatever for the slightest +suspicion, the matrons of the circle in which she moved were never quite +happy about her. This was due partly to her knowledge of French, and +partly to her having no children. Anything more about her I do not know. +She was beyond us, and although I have seen her often enough I never +spoke to her. Butts, however, managed to become a visitor at the +squire’s house. Fancy _my_ going to the squire’s! But Butts did, was +accepted there, and even dined there with a parson, and two or three +half-pay officers. The squire never called on Butts. That was an +understood thing, nor did Mrs. Butts accompany her husband. That also +was an understood thing. It was strange that Butts could tolerate and +even court such a relationship. Most men would scorn with the scorn of a +personal insult an invitation to a house from which their wives were +expressly excluded. The squire’s lady and Clem became great friends. +She discovered that his mother was a Frenchwoman, and this was a bond +between them. She discovered also that Clem was artistic, that he was +devotedly fond of music, that he could draw a little, paint a little, and +she believed in the divine right of talent wherever it might be found to +assert a claim of equality with those who were better born. The women in +the country-side were shy of her; for the men she could not possibly +care, and no doubt she must at times have got rather weary of her heavy +husband with his one outlook towards the universal in the person of +George James Fox, and the Whig policy of 1802. I am under some +disadvantage in telling this part of my story, because I was far away +from home, and only knew afterwards at second hand what the course of +events had been; but I learned them from one who was intimately +concerned, and I do not think I can be mistaken on any essential point. +I imagine that by this time Mrs. Butts must have become changed into what +she was in later years. She had grown older since she and I had parted; +she had seen trouble; her child had been born, and although she was not +exactly estranged from Clem, for neither he nor she would have admitted +any coolness, she had learned that she was nothing specially to him. I +have often noticed what an imperceptible touch, what a slight shifting in +the balance of opposing forces, will alter the character. I have +observed a woman, for example, essentially the same at twenty and +thirty—who is there who is not always essentially the same?—and yet, what +was a defect at twenty, has become transformed and transfigured into a +benignant virtue at thirty; translating the whole nature from the human +to the divine. Some slight depression has been wrought here, and some +slight lift has been given there, and beauty and order have miraculously +emerged from what was chaotic. The same thing may continually be noticed +in the hereditary transmission of qualities. The redeeming virtue of the +father palpably present in the son becomes his curse, through a faint +diminution of the strength of the check which caused that virtue to be +the father’s salvation. The propensity, too, which is a man’s evil +genius, and leads him to madness and utter ruin, gives vivid reality to +all his words and thoughts, and becomes all his strength, if by divine +assistance it can just be subdued and prevented from rising in victorious +insurrection. But this is a digression, useful, however, in its way, +because it will explain Mrs. Butts when we come a little nearer to her in +the future. + +For a time Clem’s visits to the squire’s house always took place when the +squire was at home, but an amateur concert was to be arranged in which +Clem was to take part together with the squire’s lady. Clem consequently +was obliged to go to the Hall for the purpose of practising, and so it +came to pass that he was there at unusual hours and when the master was +afield. These morning and afternoon calls did not cease when the concert +was over. Clem’s wife did not know anything about them, and, if she +noticed his frequent absence, she was met with an excuse. Perhaps the +worst, or almost the worst effect of relationships which we do not like +to acknowledge, is the secrecy and equivocation which they beget. From +the very first moment when the intimacy between the squire’s wife and +Clem began to be anything more than harmless, he was compelled to shuffle +and to become contemptible. At the same time I believe he defended +himself against himself with the weapons which were ever ready when self +rose against self because of some wrong-doing. He was not as other men. +It was absurd to class what he did with what an ordinary person might do, +although externally his actions and those of the ordinary person might +resemble one another. I cannot trace the steps by which the two sinners +drew nearer and nearer together, for the simple reason that this is an +autobiography, and not a novel. I do not know what the development was, +nor did anybody except the person concerned. Neither do I know what was +the mental history of Mrs. Butts during this unhappy period. She seldom +talked about it afterwards. I do, however, happen to recollect hearing +her once say that her greatest trouble was the cessation, from some +unknown cause, of Clem’s attempts—they were never many—to interest and +amuse her. It is easy to understand how this should be. If a man is +guilty of any defection from himself, of anything of which he is ashamed, +everything which is better becomes a farce to him. After he has been +betrayed by some passion, how can he pretend to the perfect enjoyment of +what is pure? The moment he feels any disposition to rise, he is +stricken through as if with an arrow, and he drops. Not until weeks, +months, and even years have elapsed, does he feel justified in +surrendering himself to a noble emotion. I have heard of persons who +have been able to ascend easily and instantaneously from the mud to the +upper air, and descend as easily; but to me at least they are +incomprehensible. Clem, less than most men, suffered permanently, or +indeed in any way from remorse, because he was so shielded by his +peculiar philosophy; but I can quite believe that when he got into the +habit of calling at the Hall at mid-day, his behaviour to his wife +changed. + +One day in December the squire had gone out with the hounds. Clem, going +on from bad to worse, had now reached the point of planning to be at the +Hall when the squire was not at home. On that particular afternoon Clem +was there. It was about half-past four o’clock, and the master was not +expected till six. There had been some music, the lady accompanying, and +Clem singing. It was over, and Clem, sitting down beside her at the +piano, and pointing out with his right hand some passage which had +troubled him, had placed his left arm on her shoulder, and round her +neck, she not resisting. He always swore afterwards that never till then +had such a familiarity as this been permitted, and I believe that he did +not tell a lie. But what was there in that familiarity? The worst was +already there, and it was through a mere accident that it never showed +itself. The accident was this. The squire, for some unknown reason, had +returned earlier than usual, and dismounting in the stable-yard, had +walked round the garden on the turf which came close to the windows of +the ground floor. Passing the drawing-room window, and looking in by the +edge of the drawn-down blind, he saw his wife and Clem just at the moment +described. He slipped round to the door, took off his boots so that he +might not be heard, and as there was a large screen inside the room he +was able to enter it unobserved. Clem caught sight of him just as he +emerged from behind the screen, and started up instantly in great +confusion, the lady, with greater presence of mind, remaining perfectly +still. Without a word the squire strode up to Clem, struck out at him, +caught him just over the temple, and felled him instantaneously. He lay +for some time senseless, and what passed between husband and wife I +cannot say. After about ten minutes, perhaps, Clem came to himself; +there was nobody to be seen; and he managed to get up and crawl home. He +told his wife he had met with an accident; that he would go to bed, and +that she should know all about it when he was better. His forehead was +dressed, and to bed he went. That night Mrs. Butts had a letter. It ran +as follows:— + + “MADAM,—It may at first sight seem a harsh thing for me to write and + tell you what I have to say, but I can assure you I do not mean to be + anything but kind to you, and I think it will be better, for reasons + which I will afterwards explain, that I should communicate with you + rather than with your husband. For some time past I have suspected + that he was too fond of my wife, and last night I caught him with his + arms round her neck. In a moment of not unjustifiable anger I + knocked him down. I have not the honour of knowing you personally, + but from what I have heard of you I am sure that he has not the + slightest reason for playing with other women. A man who will do + what he has done will be very likely to conceal from you the true + cause of his disaster, and if you know the cause you may perhaps be + able to reclaim him. If he has any sense of honour left in him, and + of what is due to you, he will seek your pardon for his baseness, and + you will have a hold on him afterwards which you would not have if + you were in ignorance of what has happened. For him I do not care a + straw, but for you I feel deeply, and I believe that my frankness + with you, although it may cause you much suffering now, will save you + more hereafter. I have only one condition to make. Mr. Butts must + leave this place, and never let me see his face again. He has ruined + my peace. Nothing will be published through me, for, as far as I can + prevent it, I will have no public exposure. If Mr. Butts were to + remain here it would be dangerous for us to meet, and probably + everything, by some chance, would become common property.—Believe me + to be, Madam, with many assurances of respect, truly yours,—.” + +I cannot distinguish the precise proportion of cruelty in this letter. +Did the writer designedly torture Butts by telling his wife, or did he +really think that she would in the end be happier because Butts would not +have a secret reserved from her,—a temptation to lying—and because with +this secret in her possession, he might perhaps be restrained in future? +Nobody knows. All we know is that there are very few human actions of +which it can be said that this or that taken by itself produced them. +With our inborn tendency to abstract, to separate mentally the concrete +into factors which do not exist separately, we are always disposed to +assign causes which are too simple, and which, in fact, have no being _in +rerum natura_. Nothing in nature is propelled or impeded by one force +acting alone. There is no such thing, save in the brain of the +mathematician. I see no reason why even motives diametrically opposite +should not unite in one resulting deed, and think it very probable that +the squire was both cruel and merciful to the same person in the letter; +influenced by exactly conflicting passions, whose conflict ended _so_. + +As to the squire and his wife, they lived together just as before. I do +not think, that, excepting the four persons concerned, anybody ever heard +a syllable about the affair, save myself a long while afterwards. Clem, +however, packed up and left the town, after selling his business. He had +a reputation for restlessness; and his departure, although it was sudden, +was no surprise. He betook himself to Australia, his wife going with +him. I heard that they had gone, and heard also that he was tired of +school-keeping in England, and had determined to try his fortune in +another part of the world. Our friendship had dwindled to nothing, and I +thought no more about him. Mrs. Butts never uttered one word of reproach +to her husband. I cannot say that she loved him as she could have loved, +but she had accepted him, and she said to herself that as perhaps it was +through her lack of sympathy with him that he had strayed, it was her +duty more and more to draw him to herself. She had a divine disposition, +not infrequent amongst women, to seek in herself the reason for any wrong +which was done to her. That almost instinctive tendency in men, to +excuse, to transfer blame to others, to be angry with somebody else when +they suffer from the consequences of their own misdeeds, in her did not +exist. + +During almost the whole of her married life, before this affair between +the squire and Clem, Mrs. Butts had had much trouble, although her +trouble was, perhaps, rather the absence of joy than the presence of any +poignant grief. She was much by herself. She had never been a great +reader, but in her frequent solitude she was forced to do something in +order to obtain relief, and she naturally turned to the Bible. It would +be foolish to say that the Bible alone was to be credited with the +support she received. It may only have been the occasion for a +revelation of the strength that was in her. Reading, however, under such +circumstances, is likely to be peculiarly profitable. It is never so +profitable as when it is undertaken in order that a positive need may be +satisfied or an inquiry answered. She discovered in the Bible much that +persons to whom it is a mere literature would never find. The water of +life was not merely admirable to the eye; she drank it, and knew what a +property it possessed for quenching thirst. No doubt the thought of a +heaven hereafter was especially consolatory. She was able to endure, and +even to be happy because the vision of lengthening sorrow was bounded by +a better world beyond. “A very poor, barbarous gospel,” thinks the +philosopher who rests on his Marcus Antoninus and Epictetus. I do not +mean to say, that in the shape in which she believed this doctrine, it +was not poor and barbarous, but yet we all of us, whatever our creed may +be, must lay hold at times for salvation upon something like it. Those +who have been plunged up to the very lips in affliction know its +necessity. To such as these it is idle work for the prosperous and the +comfortable to preach satisfaction with the life that now is. There are +seasons when it is our sole resource to recollect that in a few short +years we shall be at rest. While upon this subject I may say, too, that +some injustice has been done to the Christian creed of immortality as an +influence in determining men’s conduct. Paul preached the imminent +advent of Christ and besought his disciples, therefore, to watch, and we +ask ourselves what is the moral value to us of such an admonition. But +surely if we are to have any reasons for being virtuous, this is as good +as any other. It is just as respectable to believe that we ought to +abstain from iniquity because Christ is at hand, and we expect to meet +Him, as to abstain from it because by our abstention we shall be +healthier or more prosperous. Paul had a dream—an absurd dream let us +call it—of an immediate millennium, and of the return of his Master +surrounded with divine splendour, judging mankind and adjusting the +balance between good and evil. It was a baseless dream, and the +enlightened may call it ridiculous. It is anything but that, it is the +very opposite of that. Putting aside its temporary mode of expression, +it is the hope and the prophecy of all noble hearts, a sign of their +inability to concur in the present condition of things. + +Going back to Clem’s wife; she laid hold, as I have said, upon heaven. +The thought wrought in her something more than forgetfulness of pain or +the expectation of counterpoising bliss. We can understand what this +something was, for although we know no such heaven as hers, a new temper +is imparted to us, a new spirit breathed into us; I was about to say a +new hope bestowed upon us, when we consider that we live surrounded by +the soundless depths in which the stars repose. Such a consideration has +a direct practical effect upon us, and so had the future upon the mind of +Mrs. Butts. “Why dost thou judge thy brother,” says Paul, “for we shall +all stand before the judgment-seat of God.” Paul does not mean that God +will punish him and that we may rest satisfied that our enemy will be +turned into hell fire. Rather does he mean, what we, too, feel, that, +reflecting on the great idea of God, and upon all that it involves, our +animosities are softened, and our heat against our brother is cooled. + +One or two reflections may perhaps be permitted here on this passage in +Mrs. Butts’ history. + +The fidelity of Clem’s wife to him, if not entirely due to the New +Testament, was in a great measure traceable to it. She had learned from +the Epistle to the Corinthians that charity beareth all things, believeth +all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things; and she interpreted +this to mean, not merely charity to those whom she loved by nature, but +charity to those with whom she was not in sympathy, and who even wronged +her. Christianity no doubt does teach such a charity as this, a love +which is to be: independent of mere personal likes and dislikes, a love +of the human in man. The natural man, the man of this century, +uncontrolled by Christianity, considers himself a model of what is +virtuous and heroic if he really loves his friends, and he permits all +kinds of savage antipathies to those of his fellow creatures with whom he +is not in harmony. Jesus on the other hand asks with His usual perfect +simplicity, “If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? Do not +even the publicans the same?” It would be a great step in advance for +most of us to love anybody, and the publicans of the time of Jesus must +have been a much more Christian set than most Christians of the present +day; but that we should love those who do not love us is a height never +scaled now, except by a few of the elect in whom Christ still survives. +In the gospel of Luke, also, Mrs. Butts read that she was to hope for +nothing again from her love, and that she was to be merciful, as her +Father in heaven is merciful. That is really the expression of the +_idea_ in morality, and incalculable is the blessing that our great +religious teacher should have been bold enough to teach the idea, and not +any limitation of it. He always taught it, the inward born, the heavenly +law towards which everything strives. He always trusted it; He did not +deal in exceptions; He relied on it to the uttermost, never despairing. +This has always seemed to me to be the real meaning of the word faith. +It is permanent confidence in the idea, a confidence never to be broken +down by apparent failure, or by examples by which ordinary people prove +that qualification is necessary. It was precisely because Jesus taught +the idea, and nothing below it, that He had such authority over a soul +like my friend’s, and the effect produced by Him could not have been +produced by anybody nearer to ordinary humanity. + +It must be admitted, too, that the Calvinism of those days had a powerful +influence in enabling men and women to endure, although I object to +giving the name of Calvin to a philosophy which is a necessity in all +ages. “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall +not fall on the ground without your Father.” This is the last word which +can be said. Nothing can go beyond it, and at times it is the only +ground which we feel does not shake under our feet. All life is summed +up, and due account is taken of it, according to its degree. Mrs. Butts’ +Calvinism, however, hardly took the usual dogmatic form. She was too +simple to penetrate the depths of metaphysical theology, and she never +would have dared to set down any of her fellow creatures as irrevocably +lost. She adapted the Calvinistic creed to something which suited her. +For example, she fully understood what St. Paul means when he tells the +Thessalonians that _because_ they were called, _therefore_ they were to +stand fast. She thought with Paul that being called; having a duty +plainly laid upon her; being bidden as if by a general to do something, +she _ought_ to stand fast; and she stood fast, supported against all +pressure by the consciousness of fulfilling the special orders of One who +was her superior. There is no doubt that this dogma of a personal +calling is a great consolation, and it is a great truth. Looking at the +masses of humanity, driven this way and that way, the Christian teaching +is apt to be forgotten that for each individual soul there is a vocation +as real as if that soul were alone upon the planet. Yet it is a fact. +We are blinded to it and can hardly believe it, because of the impotency +of our little intellects to conceive a destiny which shall take care of +every atom of life on the globe: we are compelled to think that in such +vast crowds of people as we behold, individuals must elude the eye of the +Maker, and be swept into forgetfulness. But the truth of truths is that +the mind of the universe is not our mind, or at any rate controlled by +our limitations. + +This has been a long digression which I did not intend; but I could not +help it. I was anxious to show how Mrs. Butts met her trouble through +her religion. The apostle says that “_they drank of that spiritual Rock +which followed them_, _and that Rock was Christ_.” That was true of her. +The way through the desert was not annihilated; the path remained stony +and sore to the feet, but it was accompanied to the end by a sweet stream +to which she could turn aside, and from which she could obtain +refreshment and strength. + +Just about the time that we began our meetings near Drury Lane, I heard +that Clem was dead; that he had died abroad. I knew nothing more; I +thought about him and his wife perhaps for a day, but I had parted from +both long ago, and I went on with my work. + + + + +CHAPTER V +WHAT IT ALL CAME TO + + +FOR two years or thereabouts, M’Kay and myself continued our labours in +the Drury Lane neighbourhood. There is a proverb that it is the first +step which is the most difficult in the achievement of any object, and +the proverb has been altered by ascribing the main part of the difficulty +to the last step. Neither the first nor the last has been the difficult +step with me, but rather what lies between. The first is usually helped +by the excitement and the promise of new beginnings, and the last by the +prospect of triumph; but the intermediate path is unassisted by +enthusiasm, and it is here we are so likely to faint. M’Kay nevertheless +persevered, supporting me, who otherwise might have been tempted to +despair, and at the end of the two years we were still at our posts. We +had, however, learned something. We had learned that we could not make +the slightest impression on Drury Lane proper. Now and then an idler, or +sometimes a dozen, lounged in, but what was said was strange to them; +they were out of their own world as completely as if they were in another +planet, and all our efforts to reach them by simplicity of statement and +by talking about things which we supposed would interest them utterly +failed. I did not know, till I came in actual contact with them, how far +away the classes which lie at the bottom of great cities are from those +above them; how completely they are inaccessible to motives which act +upon ordinary human beings, and how deeply they are sunk beyond ray of +sun or stars, immersed in the selfishness naturally begotten of their +incessant struggle for existence and the incessant warfare with society. +It was an awful thought to me, ever present on those Sundays, and +haunting me at other times, that men, women, and children were living in +such brutish degradation, and that as they died others would take their +place. Our civilisation seemed nothing but a thin film or crust lying +over a volcanic pit, and I often wondered whether some day the pit would +not break up through it and destroy us all. Great towns are answerable +for the creation and maintenance of the masses of dark, impenetrable, +subterranean blackguardism, with which we became acquainted. The filthy +gloom of the sky, the dirt of the street, the absence of fresh air, the +herding of the poor into huge districts which cannot be opened up by +those who would do good, are tremendous agencies of corruption which are +active at such a rate that it is appalling to reflect what our future +will be if the accumulation of population be not checked. To stand face +to face with the insoluble is not pleasant. A man will do anything +rather than confess it is beyond him. He will create pleasant fictions, +and fancy a possible escape here and there, but this problem of Drury +Lane was round and hard like a ball of adamant. The only thing I could +do was faintly, and I was about to say stupidly, hope—for I had no +rational, tangible grounds for hoping—that some force of which we are not +now aware might some day develop itself which will be able to resist and +remove the pressure which sweeps and crushes into a hell, sealed from the +upper air, millions of human souls every year in one quarter of the globe +alone. + +M’Kay’s dreams therefore were not realised, and yet it would be a mistake +to say that they ended in nothing. It often happens that a grand +attempt, although it may fail—miserably fail—is fruitful in the end and +leaves a result, not the hoped for result it is true, but one which would +never have been attained without it. A youth strives after the +impossible, and he is apt to break his heart because he has never even +touched it, but nevertheless his whole life is the sweeter for the +striving; and the archer who aims at a mark a hundred yards away will +send his arrow further than he who sets his bow and his arm for fifty +yards. So it was with M’Kay. He did not convert Drury Lane, but he +saved two or three. One man whom we came to know was a labourer in +Somerset House, a kind of coal porter employed in carrying coals into the +offices there from the cellars below, and in other menial duties. He had +about fifteen or sixteen shillings a week, and as the coals must +necessarily be in the different rooms before ten o’clock in the morning, +he began work early, and was obliged to live within an easy distance of +the Strand. This man had originally been a small tradesman in a country +town. He was honest, but he never could or never would push his trade in +any way. He was fond of all kinds of little mechanical contrivings, +disliked his shop, and ought to have been a carpenter or +cabinet-maker—not as a master but as a journeyman, for he had no ability +whatever to control men or direct large operations. He was married, and +a sense of duty to his wife—he fortunately had no children—induced him to +stand or sit behind his counter with regularity, but people would not +come to buy of him, because he never seemed to consider their buying as +any favour conferred on him; and thus he became gradually displaced by +his more energetic or more obsequious rivals. In the end he was obliged +to put up his shutters. Unhappily for him, he had never been a very +ardent attendant at any of the places of religious worship in the town, +and he had therefore no organisation to help him. Not being master of +any craft, he was in a pitiable plight, and was slowly sinking, when he +applied to the solicitor of the political party for which he had always +voted to assist him. The solicitor applied to the member, and the +member, much regretting the difficulty of obtaining places for grown-up +men, and explaining the pressure upon the Treasury, wrote to say that the +only post at his disposal was that of labourer. He would have liked to +offer a messengership, but the Treasury had hundreds of applications from +great people who wished to dispose of favourite footmen whose services +they no longer required. Our friend Taylor had by this time been brought +very low, or he would have held out for something better, but there was +nothing to be done. He was starving, and he therefore accepted; came to +London; got a room, one room only, near Clare Market, and began his new +duties. He was able to pick up a shilling or two more weekly by going on +errands for the clerks during his slack time in the day, so that +altogether on the average he made up about eighteen shillings. Wandering +about the Clare Market region on Sunday he found us out, came in, and +remained constant. Naturally, as we had so few adherents, we gradually +knew these few very intimately, and Taylor would often spend a holiday or +part of the Sunday with us. He was not eminent for anything in +particular, and an educated man, selecting as his friends those only who +stand for something, would not have taken the slightest notice of him. +He had read nothing particular, and thought nothing particular—he was +indeed one of the masses—but in this respect different, that he had not +the tendency to association, aggregation, or clanship which belong to the +masses generally. He was different, of course, in all his ways from his +neighbours born and bred to Clare Market and its alleys. Although +commonplace, he had demands made upon him for an endurance by no means +commonplace, and he had sorrows which were as exquisite as those of his +betters. He did not much resent his poverty. To that I think he would +have submitted, and in fact he did submit to it cheerfully. What rankled +in him was the brutal disregard of him at the office. He was a servant +of servants. The messengers, who themselves were exposed to all the +petty tyrannies of the clerks, and dared not reply, were Taylor’s +masters, and sought a compensation for their own serfdom by making his +ten times worse. The head messenger, who had been a butler, swore at +him, and if Taylor had “answered” he would have been reported. He had +never been a person of much importance, but at least he had been +independent, and it was a new experience for him to feel that he was a +thing fit for nothing but to be cuffed and cursed. Upon this point he +used to get eloquent—as eloquent as he could be, for he had small power +of expression, and he would describe to me the despair which came over +him down in those dark vaults at the prospect of life continuing after +this fashion, and with not the minutest gleam of light even at the very +end. Nobody ever cared to know the most ordinary facts about him. +Nobody inquired whether he was married or single; nobody troubled himself +when he was ill. If he was away, his pay was stopped; and when he +returned to work nobody asked if he was better. Who can wonder that at +first, when he was an utter stranger in a strange land, he was overcome +by the situation, and that the world was to him a dungeon worse than that +of Chillon? Who can wonder that he was becoming reckless? A little more +of such a life would have transformed him into a brute. He had not the +ability to become revolutionary, or it would have made him a conspirator. +Suffering of any kind is hard to bear, but the suffering which especially +damages character is that which is caused by the neglect or oppression of +man. At any rate it was so in Taylor’s case. I believe that he would +have been patient under any inevitable ordinance of nature, but he could +not lie still under contempt, the knowledge that to those about him he +was of less consequence than the mud under their feet. He was timid and, +after his failure as a shopkeeper, and the near approach to the +workhouse, he dreaded above everything being again cast adrift. Strange +conflict arose in him, for the insults to which he was exposed drove him +almost to madness; and yet the dread of dismissal in a moment checked him +when he was about to “fire up,” as he called it, and reduced him to a +silence which was torture. Once he was ordered to bring some coals for +the messenger’s lobby. The man who gave him the order, finding that he +was a long time bringing them, went to the top of the stairs, and bawled +after him with an oath to make haste. The reason of the delay was that +Taylor had two loads to bring up—one for somebody else. When he got to +the top of the steps, the messenger with another oath took the coals, and +saying that he “would teach him to skulk there again,” kicked the other +coal-scuttle down to the bottom. Taylor himself told me this; and yet, +although he would have rejoiced if the man had dropped down dead, and +would willingly have shot him, he was dumb. The check operated in an +instant. He saw himself without a penny, and in the streets. He went +down into the cellar, and raged and wept for an hour. Had he been a +workman, he would probably have throttled his enemy, or tried to do it, +or what is more likely, his enemy would not have dared to treat him in +such fashion, but he was powerless, and once losing his situation he +would have sunk down into the gutter, whence he would have been swept by +the parish into the indiscriminate heap of London pauperism, and carted +away to the Union, a conclusion which was worse to him than being hung. + +Another of our friends was a waiter in one of the public-houses and +chop-houses combined, of which there are so many in the Strand. He lived +in a wretched alley which ran from St. Clement’s Church to Boswell +Court—I have forgotten its name—a dark crowded passage. He was a man of +about sixty—invariably called John, without the addition of any surname. +I knew him long before we opened our room, for I was in the habit of +frequently visiting the chop-house in which he served. His hours were +incredible. He began at nine o’clock in the morning with sweeping the +dining-room, cleaning the tables and the gas globes, and at twelve +business commenced with early luncheons. Not till three-quarters of an +hour after midnight could he leave, for the house was much used by +persons who supped there after the theatres. During almost the whole of +this time he was on his legs, and very often he was unable to find two +minutes in the day in which to get his dinner. Sundays, however, were +free. John was not a head waiter, but merely a subordinate, and I never +knew why at his time of life he had not risen to a better position. He +used to say that “things had been against him,” and I had no right to +seek for further explanations. He was married, and had had three +children, of whom one only was living—a boy of ten years old, whom he +hoped to get into the public-house as a potboy for a beginning. Like +Taylor, the world had well-nigh overpowered John entirely—crushed him out +of all shape, so that what he was originally, or might have been, it was +almost impossible to tell. There was no particular character left in +him. He may once have been this or that, but every angle now was knocked +off, as it is knocked off from the rounded pebbles which for ages have +been dragged up and down the beach by the waves. For a lifetime he had +been exposed to all sorts of whims and caprices, generally speaking of +the most unreasonable kind, and he had become so trained to take +everything without remonstrance or murmuring that every cross in his life +came to him as a chop alleged by an irritated customer to be raw or done +to a cinder. Poor wretch! he had one trouble, however, which he could +not accept with such equanimity, or rather with such indifference. His +wife was a drunkard. This was an awful trial to him. The worst +consequence was that his boy knew that his mother got drunk. The +neighbours kindly enough volunteered to look after the little man when he +was not at school, and they waylaid him and gave him dinner when his +mother was intoxicated; but frequently he was the first when he returned +to find out that there was nothing for him to eat, and many a time he got +up at night as late as twelve o’clock, crawled downstairs, and went off +to his father to tell him that “she was very bad, and he could not go to +sleep.” The father, then, had to keep his son in the Strand till it was +time to close, take him back, and manage in the best way he could. Over +and over again was he obliged to sit by this wretched woman’s bedside +till breakfast time, and then had to go to work as usual. Let anybody +who has seen a case of this kind say whether the State ought not to +provide for the relief of such men as John, and whether he ought not to +have been able to send his wife away to some institution where she might +have been tended and restrained from destroying, not merely herself, but +her husband and her child. John hardly bore up under this sorrow. A man +may endure much, provided he knows that he will be well supported when +his day’s toil is over; but if the help for which he looks fails, he +falls. Oh those weary days in that dark back dining-room, from which not +a square inch of sky was visible! weary days haunted by a fear that while +he was there unknown mischief was being done! weary days, whose close +nevertheless he dreaded! Beaten down, baffled, disappointed, if we are +in tolerable health we can contrive to live on some almost impossible +chance, some most distant flicker of hope. It is astonishing how minute +a crack in the heavy uniform cloud will relieve us; but when with all our +searching we can see nothing, then at last we sink. Such was John’s case +when I first came to know him. He attracted me rather, and bit by bit he +confided his story to me. He found out that I might be trusted, and that +I could sympathise, and he told me what he had never told to anybody +before. I was curious to discover whether religion had done anything for +him, and I put the question to him in an indirect way. His answer was +that “some on ’em say there’s a better world where everything will be put +right, but somehow it seemed too good to be true.” That was his reason +for disbelief, and heaven had not the slightest effect on him. He found +out the room, and was one of our most constant friends. + +Another friend was of a totally different type. His name was Cardinal. +He was a Yorkshireman, broad-shouldered, ruddy in the face, short-necked, +inclined apparently to apoplexy, and certainly to passion. He was a +commercial traveller in the cloth trade, and as he had the southern +counties for his district, London was his home when he was not upon his +journeys. His wife was a curious contrast to him. She was dark-haired, +pinched-up, thin-lipped, and always seemed as if she suffered from some +chronic pain or gnawing—not sufficient to make her ill, but sufficient to +make her miserable. They had no children. Cardinal in early life had +been a member of an orthodox Dissenting congregation, but he had fallen +away. He had nobody to guide him, and the position into which he fell +was peculiar. He never busied himself about religion or philosophy; +indeed he had had no training which would have led him to take an +interest in abstract questions, but he read all kinds of romances and +poetry without any order and upon no system. He had no discriminating +faculty, and mixed up together the most heterogeneous mass of trumpery +novels, French translations, and the best English authors, provided only +they were unworldly or sentimental. Neither did he know how far to take +what he read and use it in his daily life. He often selected some +fantastical motive which he had found set forth as operative in one of +his heroes, and he brought it into his business, much to the astonishment +of his masters and customers. For this reason he was not stable. He +changed employers two or three times; and, so far as I could make out, +his ground of objection to each of the firms whom he left might have been +a ground of dislike in a girl to a suitor, but certainly nothing more. +During the intervals of his engagements, unless he was pressed for money, +he did nothing—not from laziness, but because he had got a notion in his +head that his mind wanted rest and reinvigoration. His habit then was to +consume the whole day—day after day—in reading or in walking out by +himself. It may easily be supposed that with a temperament like his, and +with nobody near him to take him by the hand, he made great mistakes. +His wife and he cared nothing for one another, but she was jealous to the +last degree. I never saw such jealousy. It was strange that, although +she almost hated him, she watched him with feline sharpness and patience, +and would even have killed any woman whom she knew had won his affection. +He, on the other hand, openly avowed that marriage without love was +nothing, and flaunted without the least modification the most ideal +theories as to the relation between man and woman. Not that he ever went +actually wrong. His boyish education, his natural purity, and a fear +never wholly suppressed, restrained him. He exasperated people by his +impracticability, and it must be acknowledged that it is very irritating +in a difficult complexity demanding the gravest consideration—the +balancing of this against that—to hear a man suddenly propose some naked +principle with which everybody is acquainted, and decide by it solely. I +came to know him through M’Kay, who had known him for years; but M’Kay at +last broke out against him, and called him a stupid fool when he threw up +a handsome salary and refused to serve any longer under a house which had +always treated him well, because they, moving with the times, had +determined to offer their customers a cheaper description of goods, which +Cardinal thought was dishonest. M’Kay said, and said truly, that many +poor persons would buy these goods who could buy nothing else, and that +Cardinal, before yielding to such scruples, ought to satisfy himself +that, by yielding, he would not become a burden upon others less +fanciful. This was just what happened. Cardinal could get no work again +for a long time, and had to borrow money. I was sorry; but for my part, +this and other eccentricities did not disturb my confidence in him. He +was an honest, affectionate soul, and his peculiarities were a necessary +result of the total chaos of a time without any moral guidance. With no +church, no philosophy, no religion, the wonder is that anybody on whom +use and wont relax their hold should ever do anything more than blindly +rove hither and thither, arriving at nothing. Cardinal was adrift, like +thousands and hundreds of thousands of others, and amidst the storm and +pitchy darkness of the night, thousands and hundreds of thousands of +voices offer us pilotage. It spoke well for him that he did nothing +worse than take a few useless phantoms on board which did him no harm, +and that he held fast to his own instinct for truth and goodness. I +never let myself be annoyed by what he produced to me from his books. +All that I discarded. Underneath all that was a solid worth which I +loved, and which was mostly not vocal. What was vocal in him was, I am +bound to say, not of much value. + +About the time when our room opened, Mrs. Cardinal had become almost +insupportable to her husband. Poor woman; I always pitied her; she was +alone sometimes for a fortnight at a stretch; she read nothing; there was +no child to occupy her thoughts; she knew that her husband lived in a +world into which she never entered, and she had nothing to do but to +brood over imaginary infidelities. She was literally possessed, and who +shall be hard upon her? Nobody cared for her; everybody with whom her +husband associated disliked her, and she knew perfectly well they never +asked her to their houses except for his sake. Cardinal vowed at last he +would endure her no longer, and that they must separate. He was induced +one Sunday morning, when his resolution was strong within him, and he was +just about to give effect to it, to come with us. The quiet seemed to +soothe him, and he went home with me afterwards. He was not slow to +disclose to me his miserable condition, and his resolve to change it. I +do not know now what I said, but it appeared to me that he ought not to +change it, and that change would be for him most perilous. I thought +that with a little care life might become at least bearable with his +wife; that by treating her not so much as if she were criminal, but as if +she were diseased, hatred might pass into pity, and pity into merciful +tenderness to her, and that they might dwell together upon terms not +harder than those upon which many persons who have made mistakes in youth +agree to remain with each other; terms which, after much consideration, +they adjudge it better to accept than to break loose, and bring upon +themselves and those connected with them all that open rupture involves. +The difficulty was to get Cardinal to give up his theory of what two +abstract human beings should do between whom no love exists. It seemed +to him something like atheism to forsake his clearly-discerned, simple +rule for a course which was dictated by no easily-grasped higher law, and +it was very difficult to persuade him that there is anything of equal +authority in a law less rigid in its outline. However, he went home. I +called on him some time afterwards, and saw that a peace, or at any rate +a truce, was proclaimed, which lasted up to the day of his death. M’Kay +and I agreed to make as much of Mrs. Cardinal as we could, and yielding +to urgent invitation, she came to the room. This wonderfully helped to +heal her. She began to feel that she was not overlooked, put on one +side, or despised, and the bonds which bound her constricted lips into +bitterness were loosened. + +Another friend, and the last whom I shall name, was a young man named +Clark. He was lame, and had been so from childhood. His father was a +tradesman, working hard from early morning till late at night, and +burdened with a number of children. The boy Richard, shut out from the +companionship of his fellows, had a great love of books. When he left +school his father did not know what to do with him—in fact there was only +one occupation open to him, and that was clerical work of one kind or +another. At last he got a place in a house in Fleet Street, which did a +large business in those days in sending newspapers into the country. His +whole occupation all day long was to write addresses, and for this he +received twenty-five shillings a week, his hours being from nine o’clock +till seven. The office in which he sat was crowded, and in order to +squeeze the staff into the smallest space, rent being dear, a gallery had +been run round the wall about four feet from the ceiling. This was +provided with desks and gas lamps, and up there Clark sat, artificial +light being necessary four days out of five. He came straight from the +town in which his father lived to Fleet Street, and once settled in it +there seemed no chance of change for the better. He knew what his +father’s struggles were; he could not go back to him, and he had not the +energy to attempt to lift himself. It is very doubtful too whether he +could have succeeded in achieving any improvement, whatever his energy +might have been. He had got lodgings in Newcastle Street, and to these +he returned in the evening, remaining there alone with his little +library, and seldom moving out of doors. He was unhealthy +constitutionally, and his habits contributed to make him more so. +Everything which he saw which was good seemed only to sharpen the +contrast between himself and his lot, and his reading was a curse to him +rather than a blessing. I sometimes wished that he had never inherited +any love whatever for what is usually considered to be the Best, and that +he had been endowed with an organisation coarse and commonplace, like +that of his colleagues. If he went into company which suited him, or +read anything which interested him, it seemed as if the ten hours of the +gallery in Fleet Street had been made thereby only the more +insupportable, and his habitual mood was one of despondency, so that his +fellow clerks who knew his tastes not unnaturally asked what was the use +of them if they only made him wretched; and they were more than ever +convinced that in their amusements lay true happiness. Habit, which is +the saviour of most of us, the opiate which dulls the otherwise +unbearable miseries of life, only served to make Clark more sensitive. +The monotony of that perpetual address-copying was terrible. He has told +me with a kind of shame what an effect it had upon him—that sometimes for +days he would feed upon the prospect of the most childish trifle because +it would break in some slight degree the uniformity of his toil. For +example, he would sometimes change from quill to steel pens and back +again, and he found himself actually looking forward with a kind of +joy—merely because of the variation—to the day on which he had fixed to +go back to the quill after using steel. He would determine, two or three +days beforehand, to get up earlier, and to walk to Fleet Street by way of +Great Queen Street and Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and upon this he would +subsist till the day came. He could make no longer excursions because of +his lameness. All this may sound very much like simple silliness to most +people, but those who have not been bound to a wheel do not know what +thoughts come into the head of the strongest man who is extended on it. +Clark sat side by side in his gallery with other young men of rather a +degraded type, and the confinement bred in them a filthy grossness with +which they tormented him. They excited in him loathsome images, from +which he could not free himself either by day or night. He was +peculiarly weak in his inability to cast off impressions, or to get rid +of mental pictures when once formed, and his distress at being haunted by +these hateful, disgusting thoughts was pitiable. They were in fact +almost more than thoughts, they were transportations out of himself—real +visions. It would have been his salvation if he could have been a +carpenter or a bricklayer, in country air, but this could not be. + +Clark had no power to think connectedly to a conclusion. When an idea +came into his head, he dwelt upon it incessantly, and no correction of +the false path upon which it set him was possible, because he avoided +society. Work over, he was so sick of people that he went back to +himself. So it came to pass that when brought into company, what he +believed and cherished was frequently found to be open to obvious +objection, and was often nothing better than nonsense which was rudely, +and as he himself was forced to admit, justly overthrown. He ought to +have been surrounded with intelligent friends, who would have enabled him +to see continually the other side, and who would have prevented his long +and useless wanderings. Like many other persons, too, whom I have +known—just in proportion to his lack of penetrative power was his +tendency to occupy himself with difficult questions. By a cruel destiny +he was impelled to dabble in matters for which he was totally unfitted. +He never could go beyond his author a single step, and he lost himself in +endless mazes. If he could but have been persuaded to content himself +with sweet presentations of wholesome happy existence, with stories and +with history, how much better it would have been for him! He had had no +proper training whatever for anything more, he was ignorant of the exact +meaning of the proper terminology of science, and an unlucky day it was +for him when he picked up on a bookstall some very early translation of +some German book on philosophy. One reason, as may be conjectured, for +his mistakes was his education in dissenting Calvinism, a religion which +is entirely metaphysical, and encourages, unhappily, in everybody a taste +for tremendous problems. So long as Calvinism is unshaken, the mischief +is often not obvious, because a ready solution taken on trust is +provided; but when doubts arise, the evil results become apparent, and +the poor helpless victim, totally at a loss, is torn first in this +direction and then in the other, and cannot let these questions alone. +He has been taught to believe they are connected with salvation, and he +is compelled still to busy himself with them, rather than with simple +external piety. + + + + +CHAPTER VI +DRURY LANE THEOLOGY + + +SUCH were some of our disciples. I do not think that church or chapel +would have done them much good. Preachers are like unskilled doctors +with the same pill and draught for every complaint. They do not know +where the fatal spot lies on lung or heart or nerve which robs us of +life. If any of these persons just described had gone to church or +chapel they would have heard discourses on the usual set topics, none of +which would have concerned them. Their trouble was not the forgiveness +of sins, the fallacies of Arianism, the personality of the Holy Ghost, or +the doctrine of the Eucharist. They all _wanted_ something distinctly. +They had great gaping needs which they longed to satisfy, intensely +practical and special. Some of these necessities no words could in any +way meet. It was obvious, for instance, that Clark must at once be taken +away from his gallery and his copying if he was to live—at least in +sanity. He had fortunately learned shorthand, and M’Kay got him +employment on a newspaper. His knowledge of his art was by no means +perfect at first, but he was sent to attend meetings where _verbatim_ +reports were not necessary, and he quickly advanced. Taylor, too, we +tried to remove, and we succeeded in attaching him to a large club as an +out-of-doors porter. The poor man was now at least in the open air, and +freed from insolent tyranny. This, however, was help such as anybody +might have given. The question of most importance is, What gospel had we +to give? Why, in short, did we meet on the Sunday? What was our +justification? In the first place, there was the simple quietude. The +retreat from the streets and from miserable cares into a place where +there was peace and room for reflection was something. It is all very +well for cultivated persons with libraries to scoff at religious +services. To the poor the cathedral or the church might be an immense +benefit, if only for the reason that they present a barrier to worldly +noise, and are a distinct invitation by architecture and symbolic +decoration to meditation on something beyond the business which presses +on them during the week. Poor people frequently cannot read for want of +a place in which to read. Moreover, they require to be provoked by a +stronger stimulus than that of a book. They willingly hear a man talk if +he has anything to say, when they would not care to look at what he said +if it were printed. But to come more closely to the point. Our main +object was to create in our hearers contentment with their lot; and even +some joy in it. That was our religion; that was the central thought of +all we said and did, giving shape and tendency to everything. We +admitted nothing which did not help us in that direction, and everything +which did help us. Our attempts, to any one who had not the key, may +have seemed vague and desultory. We might by a stranger have been +accused of feeble wandering, of idle dabbling, now in this subject and +now in that, but after a while he would have found that though we were +weak creatures, with no pretence to special knowledge in any subject, we +at least knew what we meant, and tried to accomplish it. For my own +part, I was happy when I had struck that path. I felt as if somehow, +after many errors, I had once more gained a road, a religion in fact, and +one which essentially was not new but old, the religion of the +Reconciliation, the reconciliation of man with God; differing from the +current creed in so far as I did not lay stress upon sin as the cause of +estrangement, but yet agreeing with it in making it my duty of duties to +suppress revolt, and to submit calmly and sometimes cheerfully to the +Creator. This surely, under a thousand disguises, has been the meaning +of all the forms of worship which we have seen in the world. Pain and +death are nothing new, and men have been driven into perplexed +scepticism, and even insurrection by them, ever since men came into +being. Always, however, have the majority, the vast majority of the +race, felt instinctively that in this scepticism and insurrection they +could not abide, and they have struggled more or less blindly after +explanation; determined not to desist till they had found it, and +reaching a result embodied in a multitude of shapes irrational and absurd +to the superficial scoffer, but of profound interest to the thoughtful. +I may observe, in passing, that this is a reason why all great religions +should be treated with respect, and in a certain sense preserved. It is +nothing less than a wicked waste of accumulated human strivings to sneer +them out of existence. They will be found, every one of them, to have +incarnated certain vital doctrines which it has cost centuries of toil +and devotion properly to appreciate. Especially is this true of the +Catholic faith, and if it were worth while, it might be shown how it is +nothing less than a divine casket of precious remedies, and if it is to +be brutally broken, it will take ages to rediscover and restore them. Of +one thing I am certain, that their rediscovery and restoration will be +necessary. I cannot too earnestly insist upon the need of our holding, +each man for himself, by some faith which shall anchor him. It must not +be taken up by chance. We must fight for it, for only so will it become +_our_ faith. The halt in indifference or in hostility is easy enough and +seductive enough. The half-hearted thinks that when he has attained that +stage he has completed the term of human wisdom. I say go on: do not +stay there; do not take it for granted that there is nothing beyond; +incessantly attempt an advance, and at last a light, dim it may be, will +arise. It will not be a completed system, perfect in all points, an +answer to all our questions, but at least it will give ground for hope. + +We had to face the trials of our friends, and we had to face death. I do +not say for an instant that we had any effectual reply to these great +arguments against us. We never so much as sought for one, knowing how +all men had sought and failed. But we were able to say there is some +compensation, that there is another side, and this is all that man can +say. No theory of the world is possible. The storm, the rain slowly +rotting the harvest, children sickening in cellars are obvious; but +equally obvious are an evening in June, the delight of men and women in +one another, in music, and in the exercise of thought. There can surely +be no question that the sum of satisfaction is increasing, not merely in +the gross but for each human being, as the earth from which we sprang is +being worked out of the race, and a higher type is being developed. I +may observe, too, that although it is usually supposed, it is erroneously +supposed, that it is pure doubt which disturbs or depresses us. Simple +suspense is in fact very rare, for there are few persons so constituted +as to be able to remain in it. It is dogmatism under the cloak of doubt +which pulls us down. It is the dogmatism of death, for example, which we +have to avoid. The open grave is dogmatic, and we say _that man has +gone_, but this is as much a transgression of the limits of certitude as +if we were to say _he is an angel in bliss_. The proper attitude, the +attitude enjoined by the severest exercise of the reason is, _I do not +know_; and in this there is an element of hope, now rising and now +falling, but always sufficient to prevent that blank despair which we +must feel if we consider it as settled that when we lie down under the +grass there is an absolute end. + +The provision in nature of infinity ever present to us is an immense +help. No man can look up to the stars at night and reflect upon what +lies behind them without feeling that the tyranny of the senses is +loosened, and the tyranny, too, of the conclusions of his logic. The +beyond and the beyond, let us turn it over as we may, let us consider it +as a child considers it, or by the light of the newest philosophy, is a +constant, visible warning not to make our minds the measure of the +universe. Underneath the stars what dreams, what conjectures arise, +shadowy enough, it is true; but one thing we cannot help believing as +irresistibly as if by geometrical deduction—that the sphere of that +understanding of ours, whose function it seems to be to imprison us, is +limited. + +Going through a churchyard one afternoon I noticed that nearly all the +people who were buried there, if the inscriptions on the tombstones might +be taken to represent the thoughts of the departed when they were alive, +had been intent solely on their own personal salvation. The question +with them all seemed to have been, shall _I_ go to heaven? Considering +the tremendous difference between heaven and hell in the popular +imagination, it was very natural that these poor creatures should be +anxious above everything to know whether they would be in hell or heaven +for ever. Surely, however, this is not the highest frame of mind, nor is +it one to be encouraged. I would rather do all I can to get out of it, +and to draw others out of it too. Our aim ought not so much to be the +salvation of this poor petty self, but of that in me which alone makes it +worth while to save me; of that alone which I hope will be saved, +immortal truth. The very centre of the existence of the ordinary +chapel-goer and church-goer needs to be shifted from self to what is +outside self, and yet is truly self, and the sole truth of self. If the +truth lives, _we_ live, and if it dies, we are dead. Our theology stands +in need of a reformation greater than that of Luther’s. It may be said +that the attempt to replace the care for self in us by a care for the +universal is ridiculous. Man cannot rise to that height. I do not +believe it. I believe we can rise to it. Every ordinary unselfish act +is a proof of the capacity to rise to it; and the mother’s denial of all +care for her own happiness, if she can but make her child happy, is a +sublime anticipation. It may be called an instinct, but in the course of +time it will be possible to develop a wider instinct in us, so that our +love for the truth shall be even maternally passionate and +self-forgetting. + +After all our searching it was difficult to find anything which, in the +case of a man like John the waiter, for example, could be of any service +to him. At his age efficient help was beyond us, and in his case the +problem presented itself in its simple nakedness. What comfort is there +discoverable for the wretched which is not based upon illusion? We could +not tell him that all he endured was right and proper. But even to him +we were able to offer something. We did all we could to soothe him. On +the Sunday, at least, he was able to find some relief from his labours, +and he entered into a different region. He came to see us in the +afternoon and evening occasionally, and brought his boy. Father and son +were pulled up out of the vault, brought into the daylight, and led into +an open expanse. We tried above everything to interest them, even in the +smallest degree, in what is universal and impersonal, feeling that in +that direction lies healing. We explained to the child as well as we +could some morsels of science, and in explaining to him we explained to +the father as well. When the anguish begotten by some outbreak on the +part of the wife more violent than usual became almost too much to bear, +we did our best to counsel, and as a last consolation we could point to +Death, divine Death, and repose. It was but for a few more years at the +utmost, and then must come a rest which no sorrow could invade. “Having +death as an ally, I do not tremble at shadows,” is an immortal quotation +from some unknown Greek author. Providence, too, by no miracle, came to +our relief. The wife died, as it was foreseen she must, and that weight +being removed, some elasticity and recoil developed itself. John’s one +thought now was for his child, and by means of the child the father +passed out of himself, and connected himself with the future. The child +did in fact teach the father exactly what we tried to teach, and taught +it with a power of conviction which never could have been produced by any +mere appeals to the reason. The father felt that he was battered, +useless, and a failure, but that in the boy there were unknown +possibilities, and that he might in after life say that it was to this +battered, useless failure of a father he owed his success. There was +nothing now that he would not do to help Tom’s education, and we joyfully +aided as best we could. So, partly I believe by us, but far more by +nature herself, John’s salvation was wrought out at least in a measure; +discord by the intervention of another note resolved itself into a kind +of harmony, and even through the skylight in the Strand a glimpse of the +azure was obtained. + +I hope my readers, if I should ever have any, will remember that what I +wish to do is to give some account of the manner in which we sought to be +of service to the small and very humble circle of persons whom we had +collected about us. I have preserved no record of anything; I am merely +putting down what now comes into my mind—the two or three articles, not +thirty-nine, nor, alas! a third of that number—which we were able to +hold. I recollect one or two more which perhaps are worth preservation. +In my younger days the aim of theologians was the justification of the +ways of God to man. They could not succeed. They succeeded no better +than ourselves in satisfying the intellect with a system. Nor does the +Christian religion profess any such satisfaction. It teaches rather the +great doctrine of a Remedy, of a Mediator; and therein it is profoundly +true. It is unphilosophical in the sense that it offers no explanation +from a single principle, and leaves the ultimate mystery as dark as +before, but it is in accordance with our intuitions. Everywhere in +nature we see exaction of penalties down to the uttermost farthing, but +following after this we discern forgiveness, obliterating and +restorative. Both tendencies exist. Nature is Rhadamanthine, and more +so, for she visits the sins of the fathers upon the children; but there +is in her also an infinite Pity, healing all wounds, softening all +calamities, ever hastening to alleviate and repair. Christianity in +strange historical fashion is an expression of nature, a projection of +her into a biography and a creed. + +We endeavoured to follow Christianity in the depth of its distinction +between right and wrong. Herein this religion is of priceless value. +Philosophy proclaims the unity of our nature. To philosophy every +passion is as natural as every act of saintlike negation, and one of the +usual effects of thinking or philosophising is to bring together all that +is apparently contrary in man, and to show how it proceeds really from +one centre. But Christianity had not to propound a theory of man; it had +to redeem the world. It laid awful stress on the duality in us, and the +stress laid on that duality is the world’s salvation. The words right +and wrong are not felt now as they were felt by Paul. They shade off one +into the other. Nevertheless, if mankind is not to be lost, the ancient +antagonism must be maintained. The shallowest of mortals is able now to +laugh at the notion of a personal devil. No doubt there is no such thing +existent; but the horror at evil which could find no other expression +than in the creation of a devil is no subject for laughter, and if it do +not in some shape or other survive, the race itself will not survive. No +religion, so far as I know, has dwelt like Christianity with such +profound earnestness on the bisection of man—on the distinction within +him, vital to the very last degree, between the higher and the lower, +heaven and hell. What utter folly is it because of an antique vesture to +condemn as effete what the vesture clothes! Its doctrine and its sacred +story are fixtures in concrete form of precious thoughts purchased by +blood and tears. + +I fancy I see the sneer of theologians and critics at our efforts. The +theologians will mock us because we had nothing better to say. I can +only reply that we did our best. We said all we knew, and we would most +thankfully have said more, had we been sure that it must be true. I +would remind, too, those of our judges who think that we were such +wretched mortals, blind leaders of the blind, that there have been long +ages during which men never pretended to understand more than we +professed to understand. To say nothing of the Jews, whose meagre system +would certainly not have been thought either satisfying or orthodox by +modern Christians, the Greeks and Romans lived in no clearer light than +that which shines on me. The critics, too, will condemn because of our +weakness; but this defect I at once concede. The severest critic could +not possibly be so severe as I am upon myself. I _know_ my failings. +He, probably, would miss many of them. But, again I urge that men are +not to be debarred by reason of weakness from doing what little good may +lie within reach of their hands. Had we attempted to save scholars and +thinkers we should have deserved the ridicule with which no doubt we +shall be visited. We aspired to save nobody. We knew no salvation +ourselves. We ventured humbly to bring a feeble ray of light into the +dwellings of two or three poor men and women; and if Prometheus, fettered +to his rock, dwelt with pride on the blind hopes which he had caused to +visit mortals, the hopes which “stopped the continued anticipation of +their destiny,” we perhaps may be pardoned if at times we thought that +what we were doing was not altogether vanity. + + + + +CHAPTER VII +QUI DEDIT IN MARI VIAM + + +FROM time to time I received a newspaper from my native town, and one +morning, looking over the advertisements, I caught sight of one which +arrested me. It was as follows:— + + “A Widow Lady desires a situation as Daily Governess to little + children. Address E. B., care of Mrs. George Andrews, Fancy Bazaar, + High Street.” + +Mrs. George Andrews was a cousin of Ellen Butts, and that this was her +advertisement I had not the slightest doubt. Suddenly, without being +able to give the least reason for it, an unconquerable desire to see her +arose within me. I could not understand it. I recollected that +memorable resolution after Miss Arbour’s story years ago. How true that +counsel of Miss Arbour’s was! and yet it had the defect of most counsel. +It was but a principle; whether it suited this particular case was the +one important point on which Miss Arbour was no authority. What _was_ it +which prompted this inexplicable emotion? A thousand things rushed +through my head without reason or order. I begin to believe that a first +love never dies. A boy falls in love at eighteen or nineteen. The +attachment comes to nothing. It is broken off for a multitude of +reasons, and he sees its absurdity. He marries afterwards some other +woman whom he even adores, and he has children for whom he spends his +life; yet in an obscure corner of his soul he preserves everlastingly the +cherished picture of the girl who first was dear to him. She, too, +marries. In process of time she is fifty years old, and he is fifty-two. +He has not seen her for thirty years or more, but he continually turns +aside into the little oratory, to gaze upon the face as it last appeared +to him when he left her at her gate and saw her no more. He inquires now +and then timidly about her whenever he gets the chance. And once in his +life he goes down to the town where she lives, solely in order to get a +sight of her without her knowing anything about it. He does not succeed, +and he comes back and tells his wife, from whom he never conceals any +secrets, that he has been away on business. I did not for a moment +confess that my love for Ellen had returned. I knew who she was and what +she was, and what had led to our separation; but nevertheless, all this +obstinately remained in the background, and all the passages of love +between us, all our kisses, and above everything, her tears at that +parting in her father’s house, thrust themselves upon me. It was a +mystery to me. What should have induced that utterly unexpected +resurrection of what I believed to be dead and buried, is beyond my +comprehension. However, the fact remains. I did not to myself admit +that this was love, but it _was_ love, and that it should have shot up +with such swift vitality merely because I had happened to see those +initials was miraculous. I pretended to myself that I should like once +more to see Mrs. Butts—perhaps she might be in want and I could help her. +I shrank from writing to her or from making myself known to her, and at +last I hit upon the expedient of answering her advertisement in a feigned +name, and requesting her to call at the King’s Arms hotel upon a +gentleman who wished to engage a widow lady to teach his children. To +prevent any previous inquiries on her part, I said that my name was +Williams, that I lived in the country at some little distance from the +town, but that I should be there on business on the day named. I took up +my quarters at the King’s Arms the night before. It seemed very strange +to be in an inn in the place in which I was born. I retired early to my +bedroom, and looked out in the clear moonlight over the river. The +landscape seemed haunted by ghosts of my former self. At one particular +point, so well known, I stood fishing. At another, equally well known, +where the water was dangerously deep, I was examining the ice; and round +the corner was the boathouse where we kept the little craft in which I +had voyaged so many hundreds of miles on excursions upwards beyond where +the navigation ends, or, still more fascinating, down to where the water +widens and sails are to be seen, and there is a foretaste of the distant +sea. It is no pleasure to me to revisit scenes in which earlier days +have been passed. I detest the sentimental melancholy which steals over +me; the sense of the lapse of time, and the reflection that so many whom +I knew are dead. I would always, if possible, spend my holiday in some +new scene, fresh to me, and full of new interest. I slept but little, +and when the morning came, instead of carrying out my purpose of +wandering through the streets, I was so sick of the mood by which I had +been helplessly overcome, that I sat at a distance from the window in the +coffee-room, and read diligently last week’s _Bell’s Weekly Messenger_. +My reading, however, was nothing. I do not suppose I comprehended the +simplest paragraph. My thoughts were away, and I watched the clock +slowly turning towards the hour when Ellen was to call. I foresaw that I +should not be able to speak to her at the inn. If I have anything +particular to say to anybody, I can always say it so much better out of +doors. I dreaded the confinement of the room, and the necessity for +looking into her face. Under the sky, and in motion, I should be more at +liberty. At last eleven struck from the church in the square, and five +minutes afterwards the waiter entered to announce Mrs. Butts. I was +therefore right, and she was “E. B.” I was sure that I should not be +recognised. Since I saw her last I had grown a beard, my hair had got a +little grey, and she was always a little short-sighted. She came in, and +as she entered she put away over her bonnet her thick black veil. Not +ten seconds passed before she was seated on the opposite side of the +table to that on which I was sitting, but I re-read in her during those +ten seconds the whole history of years. I cannot say that externally she +looked worn or broken. I had imagined that I should see her undone with +her great troubles, but to some extent, and yet not altogether, I was +mistaken. The cheek-bones were more prominent than of old, and her +dark-brown hair drawn tightly over her forehead increased the clear +paleness of the face; the just perceptible tint of colour which I +recollect being now altogether withdrawn. But she was not haggard, and +evidently not vanquished. There was even a gaiety on her face, perhaps a +trifle enforced, and although the darkness of sorrow gleamed behind it, +the sorrow did not seem to be ultimate, but to be in front of a final +background, if not of joy, at least of resignation. Her ancient levity +of manner had vanished, or at most had left nothing but a trace. I +thought I detected it here and there in a line about the mouth, and +perhaps in her walk. There was a reminiscence of it too in her clothes. +Notwithstanding poverty and distress, the old neatness—that particular +care which used to charm me so when I was little more than a child, was +there still. I was always susceptible to this virtue, and delicate hands +and feet, with delicate care bestowed thereon, were more attractive to me +than slovenly beauty. I noticed that the gloves, though mended, fitted +with the same precision, and that her dress was unwrinkled and perfectly +graceful. Whatever she might have had to endure, it had not destroyed +that self-centred satisfaction which makes life tolerable. + +I was impelled at once to say that I had to beg her pardon for asking her +there. Unfortunately I was obliged to go over to Cowston, a village +which was about three miles from the town. Perhaps she would not mind +walking part of the way with me through the meadows, and then we could +talk with more freedom, as I should not feel pressed for time. To this +arrangement she at once agreed, and dropping her thick veil over her +face, we went out. In a few minutes we were clear of the houses, and I +began the conversation. + +“Have you been in the habit of teaching?” + +“No. The necessity for taking to it has only lately arisen.” + +“What can you teach?” + +“Not much beyond what children of ten or eleven years old are expected to +know; but I could take charge of them entirely.” + +“Have you any children of your own?” + +“One.” + +“Could you take a situation as resident teacher if you have a child?” + +“I must get something to do, and if I can make no arrangement by which my +child can live with me, I shall try and place her with a friend. I may +be able to hear of some appointment as a daily governess.” + +“I should have thought that in your native town you would have been +easily able to find employment—you must be well known?” + +There was a pause, and after a moment or so she said:— + +“We were well known once, but we went abroad and lost all our money. My +husband died abroad. When I returned, I found that there was very little +which my friends could do for me. I am not accomplished, and there are +crowds of young women who are more capable than I am. Moreover, I saw +that I was becoming a burden, and people called on me rather as a matter +of duty than for any other reason. You don’t know how soon all but the +very best insensibly neglect very poor relatives if they are not gifted +or attractive. I do not wonder at being made to feel this, nor do I +blame anybody. My little girl is a cripple, my rooms are dull, and I +have nothing in me with which to amuse or entertain visitors. Pardon my +going into this detail. It was necessary to say something in order to +explain my position.” + +“May I ask what salary you will require if you live in the house?” + +“Five-and-thirty pounds a year, but I might take less if I were asked to +do so.” + +“Are you a member of the Church of England?” + +“No.” + +“To what religious body do you belong?” + +“I am an Independent, but I would go to Church if my employers wished +it.” + +“I thought the Independents objected to go to Church.” + +“They do; but I should not object, if I could hear anything at the Church +which would help me.” + +“I am rather surprised at your indifference.” + +“I was once more particular, but I have seen much suffering, and some +things which were important to me are not so now, and others which were +not important have become so.” + +I then made up a little story. My sister and I lived together. We were +about to take up our abode at Cowston, but were as yet strangers to it. +I was left a widower with two little children whom my sister could not +educate, as she could not spare the time. She would naturally have +selected the governess herself, but she was at some distance. She would +like to see Mrs. Butts before engaging her finally, but she thought that +as this advertisement presented itself, I might make some preliminary +inquiries. Perhaps, however, now that Mrs. Butts knew the facts, she +would object to living in the house. I put it in this way, feeling sure +that she would catch my meaning. + +“I am afraid that this situation will not suit me. I could not go +backwards and forwards so far every day.” + +“I understand you perfectly, and feared that this would be your decision. +But if you hesitate, I can give you the best of references. I had not +thought of that before. References of course will be required by you as +well as by me.” + +I put my hand in my pocket for my pocket-book, but I could not find it. +We had now reached a part of our road familiar enough to both of us. +Along that very path Ellen and I had walked years ago. Under those very +trees, on that very seat had we sat, and she and I were there again. All +the old confidences, confessions, tendernesses, rushed upon me. What is +there which is more potent than the recollection of past love to move us +to love, and knit love with closest bonds? Can we ever cease to love the +souls who have once shared all that we know and feel? Can we ever be +indifferent to those who have our secrets, and whose secrets we hold? As +I looked at her, I remembered what she knew about me, and what I knew +about her, and this simple thought so overmastered me, that I could hold +out no longer. I said to her that if she would like to rest for one +moment, I might be able to find my papers. We sat down together, and she +drew up her veil to read the address which I was about to give her. She +glanced at me, as I thought, with a strange expression of excited +interrogation, and something swiftly passed across her face, which warned +me that I had not a moment to lose. I took out one of my own cards, +handed it to her, and said, “Here is a reference which perhaps you may +know.” She bent over it, turned to me, fixed her eyes intently and +directly on mine for one moment, and then I thought she would have +fallen. My arm was around her in an instant, her head was on my +shoulder, and my many wanderings were over. It was broad, high, sunny +noon, the most solitary hour of the daylight in those fields. We were +roused by the distant sound of the town clock striking twelve; we rose +and went on together to Cowston by the river bank, returning late in the +evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +FLAGELLUM NON APPROQUINABIT TABERNACULO TUO + + +I SUPPOSE that the reason why in novels the story ends with a marriage is +partly that the excitement of the tale ceases then, and partly also +because of a theory that marriage is an epoch, determining the career of +life after it. The epoch once announced, nothing more need be explained; +everything else follows as a matter of course. These notes of mine are +autobiographical, and not a romance. I have never known much about +epochs. I have had one or two, one specially when I first began to read +and think; but after that, if I have changed, it has been slowly and +imperceptibly. My life, therefore, is totally unfitted to be the basis +of fiction. My return to Ellen, and our subsequent marriage, were only +partially an epoch. A change had come, but it was one which had long +been preparing. Ellen’s experiences had altered her position, and mine +too was altered. She had been driven into religion by trouble, and +knowing nothing of criticism or philosophy, retained the old forms for +her religious feeling. But the very quickness of her emotion caused her +to welcome all new and living modes of expressing it. It is only when +feeling has ceased to accompany a creed that it becomes fixed, and verbal +departures from it are counted heresy. I too cared less for argument, +and it even gave me pleasure to talk in her dialect, so familiar to me, +but for so many years unused. + +It was now necessary for me to add to my income. I had nothing upon +which to depend save my newspaper, which was obviously insufficient. At +last, I succeeded in obtaining some clerical employment. For no other +work was I fit, for my training had not been special in any one +direction. My hours were long, from ten in the morning till seven in the +evening, and as I was three miles distant from the office, I was really +away from home for eleven hours every day, excepting on Sundays. I began +to calculate that my life consisted of nothing but the brief spaces +allowed to me for rest, and these brief spaces I could not enjoy because +I dwelt upon their brevity. There was some excuse for me. Never could +there be any duty incumbent upon man much more inhuman and devoid of +interest than my own. How often I thought about my friend Clark, and his +experiences became mine. The whole day I did nothing but write, and what +I wrote called forth no single faculty of the mind. Nobody who has not +tried such an occupation can possibly forecast the strange habits, +humours, fancies, and diseases which after a time it breeds. I was shut +up in a room half below the ground. In this room were three other men +besides myself, two of them between fifty and sixty, and one about three +or four-and-twenty. All four of us kept books or copied letters from ten +to seven, with an interval of three-quarters of an hour for dinner. In +all three of these men, as in the case of Clark’s companions, there had +been developed, partly I suppose by the circumstance of enforced idleness +of brain, the most loathsome tendency to obscenity. This was the one +subject which was common ground, and upon which they could talk. It was +fostered too by a passion for beer, which was supplied by the publican +across the way, who was perpetually travelling to and fro with cans. My +horror when I first found out into what society I was thrust was +unspeakable. There was a clock within a hundred yards of my window which +struck the hours and quarters. How I watched that clock! My spirits +rose or fell with each division of the day. From ten to twelve there was +nothing but gloom. By half-past twelve I began to discern dinner time, +and the prospect was brighter. After dinner there was nothing to be done +but doggedly to endure until five, and at five I was able to see over the +distance from five to seven. My disgust at my companions, however, came +to be mixed with pity. I found none of them cruel, and I received many +little kindnesses from them. I discovered that their trade was largely +answerable for the impurity of thought and speech which so shocked me. +Its monotony compelled some countervailing stimulus, and as they had +never been educated to care for anything in particular, they found the +necessary relief in sensuality. At first they “chaffed” and worried me a +good deal because of my silence, but at last they began to think I was +“religious,” and then they ceased to torment me. I rather encouraged +them in the belief that I had a right to exemption from their +conversation, and I passed, I believe, for a Plymouth brother. The only +thing which they could not comprehend was that I made no attempt to +convert them. + +The whole establishment was under the rule of a deputy-manager, who was +the terror of the place. He was tall, thin, and suffered occasionally +from spitting of blood, brought on no doubt from excitement. He was the +strangest mixture of exactitude and passion. He had complete mastery +over every detail of the business, and he never blundered. All his work +was thorough, down to the very bottom, and he had the most intolerant +hatred of everything which was loose and inaccurate. He never passed a +day without flaming out into oaths and curses against his subordinates, +and they could not say in his wildest fury that his ravings were beside +the mark. He was wrong in his treatment of men—utterly wrong—but his +facts were always correct. I never saw anybody hated as he was, and the +hatred against him was the more intense because nobody could convict him +of a mistake. He seemed to enjoy a storm, and knew nothing whatever of +the constraints which with ordinary men prevent abusive and brutal +language to those around them. Some of his clerks suffered greatly from +him, and he almost broke down two or three from the constant nervous +strain upon them produced by fear of his explosions. For my own part, +although I came in for a full share of his temper, I at once made up my +mind as soon as I discovered what he was, not to open my lips to him +except under compulsion. My one object now was to get a living. I +wished also to avoid the self-mortification which must ensue from +altercation. I dreaded, as I have always dreaded beyond what I can tell, +the chaos and wreck which, with me, follows subjugation by anger, and I +held to my resolve under all provocation. It was very difficult, but how +many times I have blessed myself for adhesion to it. Instead of going +home undone with excitement, and trembling with fear of dismissal, I have +walked out of my dungeon having had to bite my lips till the blood came, +but still conqueror, and with peace of mind. + +Another stratagem of defence which I adopted at the office was never to +betray to a soul anything about myself. Nobody knew anything about me, +whether I was married or single, where I lived, or what I thought upon a +single subject of any importance. I cut off my office life in this way +from my life at home so completely that I was two selves, and my true +self was not stained by contact with my other self. It was a comfort to +me to think the moment the clock struck seven that my second self died, +and that my first self suffered nothing by having anything to do with it. +I was not the person who sat at the desk downstairs and endured the +abominable talk of his colleagues and the ignominy of serving such a +chief. I knew nothing about him. I was a citizen walking London +streets; I had my opinions upon human beings and books; I was on equal +terms with my friends; I was Ellen’s husband; I was, in short, a man. By +this scrupulous isolation, I preserved myself, and the clerk was not +debarred from the domain of freedom. + +It is very terrible to think that the labour by which men are to live +should be of this order. The ideal of labour is that it should be +something in which we can take an interest and even a pride. Immense +masses of it in London are the merest slavery, and it is as mechanical as +the daily journey of the omnibus horse. There is no possibility of +relieving it, and all the ordinary copybook advice of moralists and poets +as to the temper in which we should earn our bread is childish nonsense. +If a man is a painter, or a physician, or a barrister, or even a +tradesman, well and good. The maxims of authors may be of some service +to him, and he may be able to exemplify them; but if he is a copying +clerk they are an insult, and he can do nothing but arch his back to bear +his burden and find some compensation elsewhere. True it is, that +beneficent Nature here, as always, is helpful. Habit, after a while, +mitigated much of the bitterness of destiny. The hard points of the +flint became smoothed and worn away by perpetual tramping over them, so +that they no longer wounded with their original sharpness; and the sole +of the foot was in time provided with a merciful callosity. Then, too, +there was developed an appetite which was voracious for all that was +best. Who shall tell the revulsion on reaching home, which I should +never have known had I lived a life of idleness! Ellen was fond of +hearing me read, and with a little care I was able to select what would +bear reading—dramas, for example. She liked the reading for the +reading’s sake, and she liked to know that what I thought was +communicated to her; that she was not excluded from the sphere in which I +lived. Of the office she never heard a word, and I never would tell her +anything about it; but there was scarcely a single book in my possession +which could be read aloud, that we did not go through together in this +way. I don’t prescribe this kind of life to everybody. Some of my best +friends, I know, would find it intolerable, but it suited us. Philosophy +and religion I did not touch. It was necessary to choose themes with +varying human interest, such as the best works of fiction, a play, or a +poem; and these perhaps, on the whole, did me more good at that time than +speculation. Oh, how many times have I left my office humiliated by some +silently endured outbreak on the part of my master, more galling because +I could not put it aside as altogether gratuitous; and in less than an +hour it was two miles away, and I was myself again. If a man wants to +know what the potency of love is, he must be a menial; he must be +despised. Those who are prosperous and courted cannot understand its +power. Let him come home after he has suffered what is far worse than +hatred—the contempt of a superior, who knows that he can afford to be +contemptuous, seeing that he can replace his slave at a moment’s notice. +Let him be trained by his tyrant to dwell upon the thought that he +belongs to the vast crowd of people in London who are unimportant; almost +useless; to whom it is a charity to offer employment; who are conscious +of possessing no gift which makes them of any value to anybody, and he +will then comprehend the divine efficacy of the affection of that woman +to whom he is dear. God’s mercy be praised ever more for it! I cannot +write poetry, but if I could, no theme would tempt me like that of love +to such a person as I was—not love, as I say again, to the hero, but love +to the Helot. Over and over again, when I have thought about it, I have +felt my poor heart swell with a kind of uncontrollable fervour. I have +often, too, said to myself that this love is no delusion. If we were to +set it down as nothing more than a merciful cheat on the part of the +Creator, however pleasant it might be, it would lose its charm. If I +were to think that my wife’s devotion to me is nothing more than the +simple expression of a necessity to love somebody, that there is nothing +in me which justifies such devotion, I should be miserable. Rather, I +take it, is the love of woman to man a revelation of the relationship in +which God stands to him—of what _ought_ to be, in fact. In the love of a +woman to the man who is of no account God has provided us with a true +testimony of what is in His own heart. I often felt this when looking at +myself and at Ellen. “What is there in me?” I have said, “is she not the +victim of some self-created deception?” and I was wretched till I +considered that in her I saw the Divine Nature itself, and that her +passion was a stream straight from the Highest. The love of woman is, in +other words, a living witness never failing of an actuality in God which +otherwise we should never know. This led me on to connect it with +Christianity; but I am getting incoherent and must stop. + +My employment now was so incessant, for it was still necessary that I +should write for my newspaper—although my visits to the House of Commons +had perforce ceased—that I had no time for any schemes or dreams such as +those which had tormented me when I had more leisure. In one respect +this was a blessing. Destiny now had prescribed for me. I was no longer +agitated by ignorance of what I ought to do. My present duty was +obviously to get my own living, and having got that, I could do little +besides save continue the Sundays with M’Kay. + +We were almost entirely alone. We had no means of making any friends. +We had no money, and no gifts of any kind. We were neither of us witty +nor attractive, but I have often wondered, nevertheless, what it was +which prevented us from obtaining acquaintance with persons who thronged +to houses in which I could see nothing worth a twopenny omnibus fare. +Certain it is, that we went out of our way sometimes to induce people to +call upon us whom we thought we should like; but, if they came once or +twice, they invariably dropped off, and we saw no more of them. This +behaviour was so universal that, without the least affectation, I +acknowledge there must be something repellent in me, but what it is I +cannot tell. That Ellen was the cause of the general aversion, it is +impossible to believe. The only theory I have is, that partly owing to a +constant sense of fatigue, due to imperfect health, and partly to chafing +irritation at mere gossip, although I had no power to think of anything +better, or say anything better myself, I was avoided both by the +commonplace and those who had talent. Commonplace persons avoided me +because I did not chatter, and persons of talent because I stood for +nothing. “There was nothing in me.” We met at M’Kay’s two gentlemen +whom we thought we might invite to our house. One of them was an +antiquarian. He had discovered in an excavation in London some Roman +remains. This had led him on to the study of the position and boundaries +of the Roman city. He had become an authority upon this subject, and had +lectured upon it. He came; but as we were utterly ignorant, and could +not, with all our efforts, manifest any sympathy which he valued at the +worth of a pin, he soon departed, and departed for ever. The second was +a student of Elizabethan literature, and I rashly concluded at once that +he must be most delightful. He likewise came. I showed him my few poor +books, which he condemned, and I found that such observations as I could +make he considered as mere twaddle. I knew nothing, or next to nothing, +about the editions or the curiosities, or the proposed emendations of +obscure passages, and he, too, departed abruptly. I began to think after +he had gone that my study of Shakespeare was mere dilettantism but I +afterwards came to the conclusion that if a man wishes to spoil himself +for Shakespeare, the best thing he can do is to turn Shakespearian +critic. + +My worst enemy at this time was ill health, and it was more distressing +than it otherwise would have been, because I had such responsibilities +upon me. When I lived alone I knew that if anything should happen to me +it would be of no particular consequence, but now whenever I felt sick I +was anxious on account of Ellen. What would become of her—this was the +thought which kept me awake night after night when the terrors of +depression were upon me, as they often were. But still, terrors with +growing years had lost their ancient strength. My brain and nerves were +quiet compared with what they were in times gone by, and I had gradually +learned the blessed lesson which is taught by familiarity with sorrow, +that the greater part of what is dreadful in it lies in the imagination. +The true Gorgon head is seldom seen in reality. That it exists I do not +doubt, but it is not so commonly visible as we think. Again, as we get +older we find that all life is given us on conditions of uncertainty, and +yet we walk courageously on. The labourer marries and has children, when +there is nothing but his own strength between him and ruin. A million +chances are encountered every day, and any one of the million accidents +which might happen would cripple him or kill him, and put into the +workhouse those who depend upon him. Yet he treads his path undisturbed. +Life to all of us is a narrow plank placed across a gulf, which yawns on +either side, and if we were perpetually looking down into it we should +fall. So at last, the possibility of disaster ceased to affright me. I +had been brought off safely so many times when destruction seemed +imminent, that I grew hardened, and lay down quietly at night, although +the whim of a madman might to-morrow cast me on the pavement. +Frequently, as I have said, I could not do this, but I strove to do it, +and was able to do it when in health. + +I tried to think about nothing which expressed whatever in the world may +be insoluble or simply tragic. A great change is just beginning to come +over us in this respect. So many books I find are written which aim +merely at new presentation of the hopeless. The contradictions of fate, +the darkness of death, the fleeting of man over this brief stage of +existence, whence we know not, and whither we know not, are favourite +subjects with writers who seem to think that they are profound, because +they can propose questions which cannot be answered. There is really +more strength of mind required for resolving the commonest difficulty +than is necessary for the production of poems on these topics. The +characteristic of so much that is said and written now is melancholy; and +it is melancholy, not because of any deeper acquaintance with the secrets +of man than that which was possessed by our forefathers, but because it +is easy to be melancholy, and the time lacks strength. + +As I am now setting down, without much order or connection, the lessons +which I had to learn, I may perhaps be excused if I add one or two +others. I can say of them all, that they are not book lessons. They +have been taught me by my own experience, and as a rule I have always +found that in my own most special perplexities I got but little help from +books or other persons. I had to find out for myself what was for me the +proper way of dealing with them. + +My love for Ellen was great, but I discovered that even such love as this +could not be left to itself. It wanted perpetual cherishing. The lamp, +if it was to burn brightly, required daily trimming, for people became +estranged and indifferent, not so much by open quarrel or serious +difference, as by the intervention of trifles which need but the +smallest, although continuous effort for their removal. The true wisdom +is to waste no time over them, but to eject them at once. Love, too, +requires that the two persons who love one another shall constantly +present to one another what is best in them, and to accomplish this, +deliberate purpose, and even struggle, are necessary. If through relapse +into idleness we do not attempt to bring soul and heart into active +communion day by day, what wonder if this once exalted relationship +become vulgar and mean? + +I was much overworked. It was not the work itself which was such a +trial, but the time it consumed. At best, I had but a clear space of an +hour, or an hour and a half at home, and to slave merely for this seemed +such a mockery! Day after day sped swiftly by, made up of nothing but +this infernal drudgery, and I said to myself—Is this life? But I made up +my mind that _never would I give myself tongue_. I clapped a muzzle on +my mouth. Had I followed my own natural bent, I should have become +expressive about what I had to endure, but I found that expression reacts +on him who expresses and intensifies what is expressed. If we break out +into rhetoric over a toothache, the pangs are not the easier, but the +worse to be borne. + +I naturally contracted a habit of looking forward from the present moment +to one beyond. The whole week seemed to exist for the Sunday. On Monday +morning I began counting the hours till Sunday should arrive. The +consequence was, that when it came, it was not enjoyed properly, and I +wasted it in noting the swiftness of its flight. Oh, how absurd is man! +If we were to reckon up all the moments which we really enjoy for their +own sake, how few should we find them to be! The greatest part, far the +greatest part, of our lives is spent in dreaming over the morrow, and +when it comes, it, too, is consumed in the anticipation of a brighter +morrow, and so the cheat is prolonged, even to the grave. This tendency, +unconquerable though it may appear to be, can to a great extent at any +rate, be overcome by strenuous discipline. I tried to blind myself to +the future, and many and many a time, as I walked along that dreary New +Road or Old St. Pancras Road, have I striven to compel myself not to look +at the image of Hampstead Heath or Regent’s Park, as yet six days in +front of me, but to get what I could out of what was then with me. + +The instinct which leads us perpetually to compare what we are with what +we might be is no doubt of enormous value, and is the spring which +prompts all action, but, like every instinct, it is the source of +greatest danger. I remember the day and the very spot on which it +flashed into me, like a sudden burst of the sun’s rays, that I had no +right to this or that—to so much happiness, or even so much virtue. What +title-deeds could I show for such a right? Straightway it seemed as if +the centre of a whole system of dissatisfaction were removed, and as if +the system collapsed. God, creating from His infinite resources a whole +infinitude of beings, had created me with a definite position on the +scale, and that position only could I claim. Cease the trick of +contrast. If I can by any means get myself to consider myself alone +without reference to others, discontent will vanish. I walk this Old St. +Pancras Road on foot—another rides. Keep out of view him who rides and +all persons riding, and I shall not complain that I tramp in the wet. So +also when I think how small and weak I am. + +How foolish it is to try and cure by argument what time will cure so +completely and so gently if left to itself. As I get older, the anxiety +to prove myself right if I quarrel dies out. I hold my tongue and time +vindicates me, if it is possible to vindicate me, or convicts me if I am +wrong. Many and many a debate too which I have had with myself alone has +been settled in the same way. The question has been put aside and has +lost its importance. The ancient Church thought, and seriously enough, +no doubt, that all the vital interests of humanity were bound up with the +controversies upon the Divine nature; but the centuries have rolled on, +and who cares for those controversies now. The problems of death and +immortality once upon a time haunted me so that I could hardly sleep for +thinking about them. I cannot tell how, but so it is, that at the +present moment, when I am years nearer the end, they trouble me but very +little. If I could but bury and let rot things which torment me and come +to no settlement—if I could always do this—what a blessing it would be. + + + + +CHAPTER IX +HOLIDAYS + + +I HAVE said that Ellen had a child by her first husband. Marie, for that +was her name, was now ten years old. She was like neither her mother nor +father, and yet was _shot_ as it were with strange gleams which reminded +me of her paternal grandmother for a moment, and then disappeared. She +had rather coarse dark hair, small black eyes, round face, and features +somewhat blunt or blurred, the nose in particular being so. She had a +tendency to be stout. For books she did not care, and it was with the +greatest difficulty we taught her to read. She was not orderly or +careful about her person, and in this respect was a sore +disappointment—not that she was positively careless, but she took no +pride in dress, nor in keeping her room and her wardrobe neat. She was +fond of bright colours, which was another trial to Ellen, who disliked +any approach to gaudiness. She was not by any means a fool, and she had +a peculiarly swift mode of expressing herself upon persons and things. A +stranger looking at her would perhaps have adjudged her inclined to +sensuousness, and dull. She was neither one nor the other. She ate +little, although she was fond of sweets. Her rather heavy face, with no +clearly cut outline in it, was not the typical face for passion; but she +was capable of passion to an extraordinary degree, and what is more +remarkable, it was not explosive passion, or rather it was not passion +which she suffered to explode. I remember once when she was a little +mite she was asked out somewhere to tea. She was dressed and ready, but +it began to rain fast, and she was told she could not go. She besought, +but it was in vain. We could not afford cabs, and there was no omnibus. +Marie, finding all her entreaties were useless, quietly walked out of the +room; and after some little time her mother, calling her and finding she +did not come, went to look for her. She had gone into the back-yard, and +was sitting there in the rain by the side of the water-butt. She was +soaked, and her best clothes were spoiled. I must confess that I did not +take very kindly to her. I was irritated at her slowness in learning; it +was, in fact, painful to be obliged to teach her. I thought that perhaps +she might have some undeveloped taste for music, but she showed none, and +our attempts to get her to sing ordinary melodies were a failure. She +was more or less of a locked cabinet to me. I tried her with the two or +three keys which I had, but finding that none of them fitted, I took no +more pains about her. + +One Sunday we determined upon a holiday. It was a bold adventure for us, +but we had made up our minds. There was an excursion train to Hastings, +and accordingly Ellen, Marie, and myself were at London Bridge Station +early in the morning. It was a lovely summer’s day in mid-July. The +journey down was uncomfortable enough in consequence of the heat and +dust, but we heeded neither one nor the other in the hope of seeing the +sea. We reached Hastings at about eleven o’clock, and strolled westwards +towards Bexhill. Our pleasure was exquisite. Who can tell, save the +imprisoned Londoner, the joy of walking on the clean sea-sand! What a +delight that was, to say nothing of the beauty of the scenery! To be +free of the litter and filth of a London suburb, of its broken hedges, +its brickbats, its torn advertisements, its worn and trampled grass in +fields half given over to the speculative builder: in place of this, to +tread the immaculate shore over which breathed a wind not charged with +soot; to replace the dull, shrouding obscurity of the smoke by a distance +so distinct that the masts of the ships whose hulls were buried below the +horizon were visible—all this was perfect bliss. It was not very poetic +bliss, perhaps; but nevertheless it is a fact that the cleanness of the +sea and the sea air was as attractive to us as any of the sea attributes. +We had a wonderful time. Only in the country is it possible to note the +change of morning into mid-day, of mid-day into afternoon, and of +afternoon into evening; and it is only in the country, therefore, that a +day seems stretched out into its proper length. We had brought all our +food with us, and sat upon the shore in the shadow of a piece of the +cliff. A row of heavy white clouds lay along the horizon almost +unchangeable and immovable, with their summit-lines and the part of the +mass just below them steeped in sunlight. The level opaline water +differed only from a floor by a scarcely perceptible heaving motion, +which broke into the faintest of ripples at our feet. So still was the +great ocean, so quietly did everything lie in it, that the wavelets which +licked the beach were as pure and bright as if they were a part of the +mid-ocean depths. About a mile from us, at one o’clock, a long row of +porpoises appeared, showing themselves in graceful curves for +half-an-hour or so, till they went out farther to sea off Fairlight. +Some fishing-boats were becalmed just in front of us. Their shadows +slept, or almost slept, upon the water, a gentle quivering alone showing +that it was not complete sleep, or if sleep, that it was sleep with +dreams. The intensity of the sunlight sharpened the outlines of every +little piece of rock, and of the pebbles, in a manner which seemed +supernatural to us Londoners. In London we get the heat of the sun, but +not his light, and the separation of individual parts into such vivid +isolation was so surprising that even Marie noticed it, and said it “all +seemed as if she were looking through a glass.” It was perfect—perfect +in its beauty—and perfect because, from the sun in the heavens down to +the fly with burnished wings on the hot rock, there was nothing out of +harmony. Everything breathed one spirit. Marie played near us; Ellen +and I sat still, doing nothing. We wanted nothing, we had nothing to +achieve; there were no curiosities to be seen, there was no particular +place to be reached, no “plan of operations,” and London was forgotten +for the time. It lay behind us in the north-west, and the cliff was at +the back of us shutting out all thought of it. No reminiscences and no +anticipations disturbed us; the present was sufficient, and occupied us +totally. + +I should like, if I could, to write an essay upon the art of enjoying a +holiday. It is sad to think how few people know how to enjoy one, +although they are so precious. We do not sufficiently consider that +enjoyment of every kind is an art carefully to be learnt, and specially +the art of making the most of a brief space set apart for pleasure. It +is foolish, for example, if a man, city bred, has but twelve hours before +him, to spend more of it in eating and drinking than is necessary. +Eating and drinking produce stupidity, at least in some degree, which may +just as well be reserved for town. It is foolish also to load the twelve +hours with a task—so much to be done. The sick person may perhaps want +exercise, but to the tolerably healthy the best of all recreation is the +freedom from fetters even when they are self-imposed. + +Our train homewards was due at Bexhill a little after seven. By five +o’clock a change gradual but swift was observed. The clouds which had +charmed us all through the morning and afternoon were in reality +thunder-clouds, which woke up like a surprised army under perfect +discipline, and moved magnificently towards us. Already afar off we +heard the softened echoing roll of the thunder. Every now and then we +saw a sharp thrust of lightning down into the water, and shuddered when +we thought that perhaps underneath that stab there might be a ship with +living men. The battle at first was at such a distance that we watched +it with intense and solemn delight. As yet not a breath of air stirred, +but presently, over in the south-east, a dark ruffled patch appeared on +the horizon, and we agreed that it was time to go. The indistinguishable +continuous growl now became articulated into distinct crashes. I had +miscalculated the distance to the station, and before we got there the +rain, skirmishing in advance, was upon us. We took shelter in a cottage +for a moment in order that Ellen might get a glass of water—bad-looking +stuff it was, but she was very thirsty—and put on her cloak. We then +started again on our way. We reached the station at about half-past six, +before the thunder was overhead, but not before Ellen had got wet, +despite all my efforts to protect her. She was also very hot from +hurrying, and yet there was nothing to be done but to sit in a kind of +covered shed till the train came up. The thunder and lightning were, +however, so tremendous, that we thought of nothing else. When they were +at their worst, the lightning looked like the upset of a cauldron of +white glowing metal—with such strength, breadth, and volume did it +descend. Just as the train arrived, the roar began to abate, and in +about half-an-hour it had passed over to the north, leaving behind the +rain, cold and continuous, which fell all round us from a dark, heavy, +grey sky. The carnage in which we were was a third-class, with seats +arranged parallel to the sides. It was crowded, and we were obliged to +sit in the middle, exposed to the draught which the tobacco smoke made +necessary. Some of the company were noisy, and before we got to Red Hill +became noisier, as the brandy-flasks which had been well filled at +Hastings began to work. Many were drenched, and this was an excuse for +much of the drinking; although for that matter, any excuse or none is +generally sufficient. At Red Hill we were stopped by other trains, and +before we came to Croydon we were an hour late. We had now become +intolerably weary. The songs were disgusting, and some of the women who +were with the men had also been drinking, and behaved in a manner which +it was not pleasant that Ellen and Marie should see. The carriage was +lighted fortunately by one dim lamp only which hung in the middle, and I +succeeded at last in getting seats at the further end, where there was a +knot of more decent persons who had huddled up there away from the +others. All the glory of the morning was forgotten. Instead of three +happy, exalted creatures, we were three dejected, shivering mortals, half +poisoned with foul air and the smell of spirits. We crawled up to London +Bridge at the slowest pace, and, finally, the railway company discharged +us on the platform at ten minutes past eleven. Not a place in any +omnibus could be secured, and we therefore walked for a mile or so till I +saw a cab, which—unheard-of expense for me—I engaged, and we were landed +at our own house exactly at half-past twelve. The first thing to be done +was to get Marie to bed. She was instantly asleep, and was none the +worse for her journey. With Ellen the case was different. She could not +sleep, and the next morning was feverish. She insisted that it was +nothing more than a bad cold, and would on no account permit me even to +give her any medicine. She would get up presently, and she and Marie +could get on well enough together. But when I reached home on Monday +evening, Ellen was worse, and was still in bed. + +I sent at once for the doctor, who would give no opinion for a day or +two, but meanwhile directed that she was to remain where she was, and +take nothing but the lightest food. Tuesday night passed, and the fever +still increased. I had become very anxious, but I dared not stay with +her, for I knew not what might happen if I were absent from my work. I +was obliged to try and think of somebody who would come and help us. Our +friend Taylor, who once was the coal-porter at Somerset House, came into +my mind. He, as I have said when talking about him, was married, but had +no children. To him accordingly I went. I never shall forget the +alacrity with which he prompted his wife to go, and with which she +consented. I was shut up in my own sufferings, but I remember a flash of +joy that all our efforts in our room had not been in vain. I was +delighted that I had secured assistance, but I do believe the uppermost +thought was delight that we had been able to develop gratitude and +affection. Mrs. Taylor was an “ordinary woman.” She was about fifty, +rather stout, and entirely uneducated. But when she took charge at our +house, all her best qualities found expression. It is true enough, +_omnium consensu capax imperii nisi imperasset_, but it is equally true +that under the pressure of trial and responsibility we are often stronger +than when there is no pressure. Many a man will acknowledge that in +difficulty he has surprised himself by a resource and coolness which he +never suspected before. Mrs. Taylor I always thought to be rather weak +and untrustworthy, but I found that when _weight_ was placed upon her, +she was steady as a rock, a systematic and a perfect manager. There was +no doubt in a very short time as to the nature of the disease. It was +typhoid fever, the cause probably being the impure water drunk as we were +coming home. I have no mind to describe what Ellen suffered. Suffice it +to say, that her treatment was soon reduced to watching her every minute +night and day, and administering small quantities of milk. Her +prostration and emaciation were excessive, and without the most constant +attention she might at any moment have slipped out of our hands. I was +like a man shipwrecked and alone in a polar country, whose existence +depends upon one spark of fire, which he tries to cherish, left +glimmering in a handful of ashes. Oh those days, prolonged to weeks, +during which that dreadful struggle lasted—days swallowed up with one +sole, intense, hungry desire that her life might be spared!—days filled +with a forecast of the blackness and despair before me if she should +depart. I tried to obtain release from the office. The answer was that +nobody could of course prevent my being away, but that it was not usual +for a clerk to be absent merely because his wife was not well. The brute +added with a sneer that a wife was “a luxury” which he should have +thought I could hardly afford. We divided between us, however, at home +the twenty-four hours during which we stood sentinels against death, and +occasionally we were relieved by one or two friends. I went on duty from +about eight in the evening till one in the morning, and was then relieved +by Mrs. Taylor, who remained till ten or eleven. She then went to bed, +and was replaced by little Marie. What a change came over that child! I +was amazed at her. All at once she seemed to have found what she was +born to do. The key had been discovered, which unlocked and revealed +what there was in her, of which hitherto I had been altogether unaware. +Although she was so little, she became a perfect nurse. Her levity +disappeared; she was grave as a matron, moved about as if shod in felt, +never forgot a single direction, and gave proper and womanly answers to +strangers who called. Faculties unsuspected grew almost to full height +in a single day. Never did she relax during the whole of that dreadful +time, or show the slightest sign of discontent. She sat by her mother’s +side, intent, vigilant; and she had her little dinner prepared and taken +up into the sickroom by Mrs. Taylor before she went to bed. I remember +once going to her cot in the night, as she lay asleep, and almost +breaking my heart over her with remorse and thankfulness—remorse, that I, +with blundering stupidity, had judged her so superficially; and +thankfulness, that it had pleased God to present to me so much of His own +divinest grace. Fool that I was, not to be aware that messages from Him +are not to be read through the envelope in which they are enclosed. I +never should have believed, if it had not been for Marie, that any +grown-up man could so love a child. Such love, I should have said, was +only possible between man and woman, or, perhaps, between man and man. +But now I doubt whether a love of that particular kind could be felt +towards any grown-up human being, love so pure, so imperious, so awful. +My love to Marie was love of God Himself as He is—an unrestrained +adoration of an efflux from Him, adoration transfigured into love, +because the revelation had clothed itself with a child’s form. It was, +as I say, the love of God as He is. It was not necessary, as it so often +is necessary, to qualify, to subtract, to consider the other side, to +deplore the obscurity or the earthly contamination with which the Word is +delivered to us. This was the Word itself, without even consciousness on +the part of the instrument selected for its vocalisation. I may appear +extravagant, but I can only put down what I felt and still feel. I +appeal, moreover, to Jesus Himself for justification. I had seen the +kingdom of God through a little child. I, in fact, have done nothing +more than beat out over a page in my own words what passed through His +mind when He called a little child and set him in the midst of His +disciples. How I see the meaning of those words now! and so it is that a +text will be with us for half a lifetime, recognised as great and good, +but not penetrated till the experience comes round to us in which it was +born. + +Six weeks passed before the faint blue point of light which flickered on +the wick began to turn white and show some strength. At last, however, +day by day, we marked a slight accession of vitality which increased with +change of diet. Every evening when I came home I was gladdened by the +tidings which showed advance, and Ellen, I believe, was as much pleased +to see how others rejoiced over her recovery as she was pleased for her +own sake. She, too, was one of those creatures who always generously +admit improvement. For my own part, I have often noticed that when I +have been ill, and have been getting better, I have refused to +acknowledge it, and that it has been an effort to me to say that things +were not at their worst. She, however, had none of this niggardly +baseness, and always, if only for the sake of her friends, took the +cheerful side. Mrs. Taylor now left us. She left us a friend whose +friendship will last, I hope, as long as life lasts. She had seen all +our troubles and our poverty: we knew that she knew all about us: she had +helped us with the most precious help—what more was there necessary to +knit her to us?—and it is worth noting that the assistance which she +rendered, and her noble self-sacrifice, so far from putting us, in her +opinion, in her debt, only seemed to her a reason why she should be more +deeply attached to us. + +It was late in the autumn before Ellen had thoroughly recovered, but at +last we said that she was as strong as she was before, and we determined +to celebrate our deliverance by one more holiday before the cold weather +came. It was again Sunday—a perfectly still, warm, autumnal day, with a +high barometer and the gentlest of airs from the west. The morning in +London was foggy, so much so that we doubted at first whether we should +go; but my long experience of London fog told me that we should escape +from it with that wind if we got to the chalk downs away out by +Letherhead and Guildford. We took the early train to a point at the base +of the hills, and wound our way up into the woods at the top. We were +beyond the smoke, which rested like a low black cloud over the city in +the north-east, reaching a third of the way up to the zenith. The beech +had changed colour, and glowed with reddish-brown fire. We sat down on a +floor made of the leaves of last year. At mid-day the stillness was +profound, broken only by the softest of whispers descending from the +great trees which spread over us their protecting arms. Every now and +then it died down almost to nothing, and then slowly swelled and died +again, as if the Gods of the place were engaged in divine and harmonious +talk. By moving a little towards the external edge of our canopy we +beheld the plain all spread out before us, bounded by the heights of +Sussex and Hampshire. It was veiled with the most tender blue, and above +it was spread a sky which was white on the horizon and deepened by +degrees into azure over our heads. The exhilaration of the air satisfied +Marie, although she had no playmate, and there was nothing special with +which she could amuse herself. She wandered about looking for flowers +and ferns, and was content. We were all completely happy. We strained +our eyes to see the furthest point before us, and we tried to find it on +the map we had brought with us. The season of the year, which is usually +supposed to make men pensive, had no such effect upon us. Everything in +the future, even the winter in London, was painted by Hope, and the death +of the summer brought no sadness. Rather did summer dying in such +fashion fill our hearts with repose, and even more than repose—with +actual joy. + + * * * * * + +Here ends the autobiography. A month after this last holiday my friend +was dead and buried. He had unsuspected disease of the heart, and one +day his master, of whom we have heard something, was more than usually +violent. Mark, as his custom was, was silent, but evidently greatly +excited. His tyrant left the room; and in a few minutes afterwards Mark +was seen to turn white and fall forward in his chair. It was all over! +His body was taken to a hospital and thence sent home. The next morning +his salary up to the day of his death came in an envelope to his widow, +without a single word from his employers save a request for +acknowledgment. Towards mid-day, his office coat, and a book found in +his drawer, arrived in a brown paper parcel, carriage unpaid. + +On looking over his papers, I found the sketch of his life and a mass of +odds and ends, some apparently written for publication. Many of these +had evidently been in envelopes, and had most likely, therefore, been +offered to editors or publishers, but all, I am sure, had been refused. +I add one or two by way of appendix, and hope they will be thought worth +saving. + + R. S. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: HODDER AND STOUGHTON, 1913. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{7} This was written many years ago, but is curiously pertinent to the +discussions of this year.—EDITOR, 1884. + +{31} Not exactly untrue, but it sounds strangely now when socialism, +nationalisation of the land, and other projects have renewed in men the +hope of regeneration by political processes. 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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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mark Rutherford's Deliverance + + +Author: Mark Rutherford + + + +Release Date: August 14, 2014 [eBook #5338] +[This file was first posted on July 2, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1913 Hodder and Stoughton edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Man comforting woman" +title= +"Man comforting woman" +src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>MARK RUTHERFORD’S<br /> +DELIVERANCE</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +MARK RUTHERFORD</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decoractive graphic" +title= +"Decoractive graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">HODDER & +STOUGHTON’S</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SEVENPENNY LIBRARY</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">HODDER AND STOUGHTON<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LONDON NEW YORK +TORONTO</span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Newspapers</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page3">3</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">M’Kay</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Miss Leroy</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page40">40</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A <span class="smcap">Necessary Development</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page62">62</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">What it all came to</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Drury Lane Theology</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page103">103</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Qui dedit in Mari Viam</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page116">116</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VIII</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Flagellum non approquinabit +Tabernaculo Tuo</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page127">127</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IX</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Holidays</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page145">145</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>CHAPTER +I<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NEWSPAPERS</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I had established myself in my +new lodgings in Camden Town, I found I had ten pounds in my +pocket, and again there was no outlook. I examined +carefully every possibility. At last I remembered that a +relative of mine, who held some office in the House of Commons, +added to his income by writing descriptive accounts of the +debates, throwing in by way of supplement any stray scraps of +gossip which he was enabled to collect. The rules of the +House as to the admission of strangers were not so strict then as +they are now, and he assured me that if I could but secure a +commission from a newspaper, he could pass me into one of the +galleries, and, when there was nothing to be heard worth +describing, I could remain in the lobby, where I should by +degrees find many opportunities of picking up intelligence which +would pay. So far, so good; but how to obtain the +commission? I managed to get hold of a list of all the +country papers, and I wrote to nearly every one, offering my +services. I am afraid that I somewhat exaggerated them, for +I had two answers, and, after a little correspondence, two +engagements. This was an unexpected stroke of luck; but +alas! both journals circulated in the same district. I +never could get together more stuff than would fill about a +column and a half, and consequently I was obliged, with infinite +pains, to vary, so that it could not be recognised, the form of +what, at bottom, was essentially the same matter. This was +work which would have been disagreeable enough, if I had not now +ceased in a great measure to demand what was agreeable. In +years past I coveted a life, not of mere sensual +enjoyment—for that I never cared—but a life which +should be filled with activities of the noblest kind, and it was +intolerable to me to reflect that all my waking hours were in the +main passed in merest drudgery, and that only for a few moments +at the beginning or end of the day could it be said that the +higher sympathies were really operative. Existence to me +was nothing but these few moments, and consequently flitted like +a shadow. I was now, however, the better of what was half +disease and half something healthy and good. In the first +place, I had discovered that my appetite was far larger than my +powers. Consumed by a longing for continuous intercourse +with the best, I had no ability whatever to maintain it, and I +had accepted as a fact, however mysterious it might be, that the +human mind is created with the impulses of a seraph and the +strength of a man. Furthermore, what was I that I should +demand exceptional treatment? Thousands of men and women +superior to myself, are condemned, if that is the proper word to +use, to almost total absence from themselves. The roar of +the world for them is never lulled to rest, nor can silence ever +be secured in which the voice of the Divine can be heard.</p> +<p>My letters were written twice a week, and as each contained a +column and a half, I had six columns weekly to manufacture. +These I was in the habit of writing in the morning, my evenings +being spent at the House. At first I was rather interested, +but after a while the occupation became tedious beyond measure, +and for this reason. In a discussion of any importance +about fifty members perhaps would take part, and had made up +their minds beforehand to speak. There could not possibly +be more than three or four reasons for or against the motion, and +as the knowledge that what the intending orator had to urge had +been urged a dozen times before on that very night never deterred +him from urging it again, the same arguments, diluted, muddled, +and mispresented, recurred with the most wearisome iteration.</p> +<p>The public outside knew nothing or very little of the real +House of Commons, and the manner in which time was squandered +there, for the reports were all of them much abbreviated. +In fact, I doubt whether anybody but the Speaker, and one or two +other persons in the same position as myself, really felt with +proper intensity what the waste was, and how profound was the +vanity of members and the itch for expression; for even the +reporters were relieved at stated intervals, and the impression +on their minds was not continuous. Another evil result of +these attendances at the House was a kind of political +scepticism. Over and over again I have seen a Government +arraigned for its conduct of foreign affairs. The evidence +lay in masses of correspondence which it would have required some +days to master, and the verdict, after knowing the facts, ought +to have depended upon the application of principles, each of +which admitted a contrary principle for which much might be +pleaded. There were not fifty members in the House with the +leisure or the ability to understand what it was which had +actually happened, and if they had understood it, they would not +have had the wit to see what was the rule which ought to have +decided the case. Yet, whether they understood or not, they +were obliged to vote, and what was worse, the constituencies also +had to vote, and so the gravest matters were settled in utter +ignorance. This has often been adduced as an argument +against an extended suffrage, but, if it is an argument against +anything, it is an argument against intrusting the aristocracy +and even the House itself with the destinies of the nation; for +no dock labourer could possibly be more entirely empty of all +reasons for action than the noble lords, squires, lawyers, and +railway directors whom I have seen troop to the division +bell. There is something deeper than this scepticism, but +the scepticism is the easiest and the most obvious conclusion to +an open mind dealing so closely and practically with politics as +it was my lot to do at this time of my life. Men must be +governed, and when it comes to the question, by whom? I, for one, +would far sooner in the long run trust the people at large than I +would the few, who in everything which relates to Government are +as little instructed as the many and more difficult to +move. The very fickleness of the multitude, the theme of +such constant declamation, is so far good that it proves a +susceptibility to impressions to which men hedged round by +impregnable conventionalities cannot yield. <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a></p> +<p>When I was living in the country, the pure sky and the +landscape formed a large portion of my existence, so large that +much of myself depended on it, and I wondered how men could be +worth anything if they could never see the face of nature. +For this belief my early training on the “Lyrical +Ballads” is answerable. When I came to London the +same creed survived, and I was for ever thirsting for intercourse +with my ancient friend. Hope, faith, and God seemed +impossible amidst the smoke of the streets. It was now very +difficult for me, except at rare opportunities, to leave London, +and it was necessary for me, therefore, to understand that all +that was essential for me was obtainable there, even though I +should never see anything more than was to be seen in journeying +through the High Street, Camden Town, Tottenham Court Road, the +Seven Dials, and Whitehall. I should have been guilty of a +simple surrender to despair if I had not forced myself to make +this discovery. I cannot help saying, with all my love for +the literature of my own day, that it has an evil side to it +which none know except the millions of sensitive persons who are +condemned to exist in great towns. It might be imagined +from much of this literature that true humanity and a belief in +God are the offspring of the hills or the ocean; and by +implication, if not expressly, the vast multitudes who hardly +ever see the hills or the ocean must be without a religion. +The long poems which turn altogether upon scenery, perhaps in +foreign lands, and the passionate devotion to it which they +breathe, may perhaps do good in keeping alive in the hearts of +men a determination to preserve air, earth, and water from +pollution; but speaking from experience as a Londoner, I can +testify that they are most depressing, and I would counsel +everybody whose position is what mine was to avoid these books +and to associate with those which will help him in his own +circumstances.</p> +<p>Half of my occupation soon came to an end. One of my +editors sent me a petulant note telling me that all I wrote he +could easily find out himself, and that he required something +more “graphic and personal.” I could do no +better, or rather I ought to say, no worse than I had been +doing. These letters were a great trouble to me. I +was always conscious of writing so much of which I was not +certain, and so much which was indifferent to me. The +unfairness of parties haunted me. But I continued to write, +because I saw no other way of getting a living, and surely it is +a baser dishonesty to depend upon the charity of friends because +some pleasant, clean, ideal employment has not presented itself, +than to soil one’s hands with a little of the inevitable +mud. I don’t think I ever felt anything more keenly +than I did a sneer from an acquaintance of mine who was in the +habit of borrowing money from me. He was a painter, whose +pictures were never sold because he never worked hard enough to +know how to draw, and it came to my ears indirectly that he had +said that “he would rather live the life of a medieval +ascetic than condescend to the degradation of scribbling a dozen +columns weekly of utter trash on subjects with which he had no +concern.” At that very moment he owed me five +pounds. God knows that I admitted my dozen columns to be +utter trash, but it ought to have been forgiven by those who saw +that I was struggling to save myself from the streets and to keep +a roof over my head. Degraded, however, as I might be, I +could not get down to the “graphic and personal,” for +it meant nothing less than the absolutely false. I +therefore contrived to exist on the one letter, which, excepting +the mechanical labour of writing a second, took up as much of my +time as if I had to write two.</p> +<p>Never, but once or twice at the most, did my labours meet with +the slightest recognition beyond payment. Once I remember +that I accused a member of a discreditable manœuvre to +consume the time of the House, and as he represented a borough in +my district, he wrote to the editor denying the charge. The +editor without any inquiry—and I believe I was +mistaken—instantly congratulated me on having +“scored.” At another time, when Parliament was +not sitting, I ventured, by way of filling up my allotted space, +to say a word on behalf of a now utterly forgotten novel. I +had a letter from the authoress thanking me, but alas! the +illusion vanished. I was tempted by this one novel to look +into others which I found she had written, and I discovered that +they were altogether silly. The attraction of the one of +which I thought so highly, was due not to any real merit which it +possessed, but to something I had put into it. It was dead, +but it had served as a wall to re-echo my own voice. +Excepting these two occasions, I don’t think that one +solitary human being ever applauded or condemned one solitary +word of which I was the author. All my friends knew where +my contributions were to be found, but I never heard that they +looked at them. They were never worth reading, and yet such +complete silence was rather lonely. The tradesman who makes +a good coat enjoys the satisfaction of having fitted and pleased +his customer, and a bricklayer, if he be diligent, is rewarded by +knowing that his master understands his value, but I never knew +what it was to receive a single response. I wrote for an +abstraction; and spoke to empty space. I cannot help +claiming some pity and even respect for the class to which I +belonged. I have heard them called all kinds of hard names, +hacks, drudges, and something even more contemptible, but the +injustice done to them is monstrous. Their wage is hardly +earned; it is peculiarly precarious, depending altogether upon +their health, and no matter how ill they may be they must +maintain the liveliness of manner which is necessary to procure +acceptance. I fell in with one poor fellow whose line was +something like my own. I became acquainted with him through +sitting side by side with him at the House. He lived in +lodgings in Goodge Street, and occasionally I walked with him as +far as the corner of Tottenham Court Road, where I caught the +last omnibus northward. He wrote like me a +“descriptive article” for the country, but he also +wrote every now and then—a dignity to which I never +attained—a “special” for London. His +“descriptive articles” were more political than mine, +and he was obliged to be violently Tory. His creed, +however, was such a pure piece of professionalism, that though I +was Radical, and was expected to be so, we never jarred, and +often, as we wandered homewards, we exchanged notes, and were +mutually useful, his observations appearing in my paper, and mine +in his, with proper modifications. How he used to roar in +the <i>Gazette</i> against the opposite party, and yet I never +heard anything from him myself but what was diffident and +tender. He had acquired, as an instrument necessary to him, +an extraordinarily extravagant style, and he laid about him with +a bludgeon, which inevitably descended on the heads of all +prominent persons if they happened not to be Conservative, no +matter what their virtues might be. One peculiarity, +however, I noted in him. Although he ought every now and +then, when the subject was uppermost, to have flamed out in the +<i>Gazette</i> on behalf of the Church, I never saw a word from +him on that subject. He drew the line at religion. He +did not mind acting his part in things secular, for his +performances were, I am sure, mostly histrionic, but there he +stopped. The unreality of his character was a husk +surrounding him, but it did not touch the core. It was as +if he had said to himself, “Political controversy is +nothing to me, and, what is more, is so uncertain that it matters +little whether I say yes or no, nor indeed does it matter if I +say yes <i>and</i> no, and I must keep my wife and children from +the workhouse; but when it comes to the relationship of man to +God, it is a different matter.” His altogether +outside vehemence and hypocrisy did in fact react upon him, and +so far from affecting harmfully what lay deeper, produced a more +complete sincerity and transparency extending even to the finest +verbal distinctions. Over and over again have I heard him +preach to his wife, almost with pathos, the duty of perfect +exactitude in speech in describing the commonest +occurrences. “Now, my dear, <i>is</i> that so?” +was a perpetual remonstrance with him; and he always insisted +upon it that there is no training more necessary for children +than that of teaching them not merely to speak the truth in the +ordinary, vulgar sense of the term, but to speak it in a much +higher sense, by rigidly compelling, point by point, a +correspondence of the words with the fact external or +internal. He never would tolerate in his own children a +mere hackneyed, borrowed expression, but demanded exact +portraiture; and nothing vexed him more than to hear one of them +spoil and make worthless what he or she had seen, by reporting it +in some stale phrase which had been used by everybody. This +refusal to take the trouble to watch the presentment to the mind +of anything which had been placed before it, and to reproduce it +in its own lines and colours was, as he said, nothing but +falsehood, and he maintained that the principal reason why people +are so uninteresting is not that they have nothing to say. +It is rather that they will not face the labour of saying in +their own tongue what they have to say, but cover it up and +conceal it in commonplace, so that we get, not what they +themselves behold and what they think, but a hieroglyphic or +symbol invented as the representative of a certain class of +objects or emotions, and as inefficient to represent a particular +object or emotion as <i>x</i> or <i>y</i> to set forth the +relation of Hamlet to Ophelia. He would even exercise his +children in this art of the higher truthfulness, and would +purposely make them give him an account of something which he had +seen and they had seen, checking them the moment he saw a lapse +from originality. Such was the Tory correspondent of the +<i>Gazette</i>.</p> +<p>I ought to say, by way of apology for him, that in his day it +signified little or nothing whether Tory or Whig was in +power. Politics had not become what they will one day +become, a matter of life or death, dividing men with really +private love and hate. What a mockery controversy was in +the House! How often I have seen members, who were furious +at one another across the floor, quietly shaking hands outside, +and inviting one another to dinner! I have heard them say +that we ought to congratulate ourselves that parliamentary +differences do not in this country breed personal +animosities. To me this seemed anything but a subject of +congratulation. Men who are totally at variance ought not +to be friends, and if Radical and Tory are not totally, but +merely superficially at variance, so much the worse for their +Radicalism and Toryism.</p> +<p>It is possible, and even probable, that the public fury and +the subsequent amity were equally absurd. Most of us have +no real loves and no real hatreds. Blessed is love, less +blessed is hatred, but thrice accursed is that indifference which +is neither one nor the other, the muddy mess which men call +friendship.</p> +<p>M’Kay—for that was his name—lived, as I have +said, in Goodge Street, where he had unfurnished +apartments. I often spent part of the Sunday with him, and +I may forestall obvious criticism by saying that I do not pretend +for a moment to defend myself from inconsistency in denouncing +members of Parliament for their duplicity, M’Kay and myself +being also guilty of something very much like it. But there +was this difference between us and our parliamentary friends, +that we always divested ourselves of all hypocrisy when we were +alone. We then dropped the stage costume which members +continued to wear in the streets and at the dinner-table, and in +which some of them even slept and said their prayers.</p> +<p>London Sundays to persons who are not attached to any +religious community, and have no money to spend, are rather +dreary. We tried several ways of getting through the +morning. If we heard that there was a preacher with a +reputation, we went to hear him. As a rule, however, we got +no good in that way. Once we came to a chapel where there +was a minister supposed to be one of the greatest orators of the +day. We had much difficulty in finding standing room. +Just as we entered we heard him say, “My friends, I appeal +to those of you who are parents. You know that if you say +to a child ‘go,’ he goeth, and if you say +‘come,’ he cometh. So the +Lord”— But at this point M’Kay, who had +children, nudged me to come out; and out we went. Why does +this little scene remain with me? I can hardly say, but +here it stands. It is remembered, not so much by reason of +the preacher as by reason of the apparent acquiescence and +admiration of the audience, who seemed to be perfectly willing to +take over an experience from their pastor—if indeed it was +really an experience—which was not their own. Our +usual haunts on Sunday were naturally the parks and Kensington +Gardens; but artificial limited enclosures are apt to become +wearisome after a time, and we longed for a little more freedom +if a little less trim. So we would stroll towards Hampstead +or Highgate, the only drawback to these regions being the +squalid, ragged, half town, half suburb, through which it was +necessary to pass. The skirts of London when the air is +filled with north-easterly soot, grit, and filth, are cheerless, +and the least cheerful part of the scene is the inability of the +vast wandering masses of people to find any way of amusing +themselves. At the corner of one of the fields in Kentish +Town, just about to be devoured, stood a public-house, and +opposite the door was generally encamped a man who sold nothing +but Brazil nuts. Swarms of people lazily wandered past him, +most of them waiting for the public-house to open. Brazil +nuts on a cold black Sunday morning are not exhilarating, but the +costermonger found many customers who bought his nuts, and ate +them, merely because they had nothing better to do. We went +two or three times to a freethinking hall, where we were +entertained with demonstrations of the immorality of the +patriarchs and Jewish heroes, and arguments to prove that the +personal existence of the devil was a myth, the audience breaking +out into uproarious laughter at comical delineations of Noah and +Jonah. One morning we found the place completely +packed. A “celebrated Christian,” as he was +described to us, having heard of the hall, had volunteered to +engage in debate on the claims of the Old Testament to Divine +authority. He turned out to be a preacher whom we knew +quite well. He was introduced by his freethinking +antagonist, who claimed for him a respectful hearing. The +preacher said that before beginning he should like to +“engage in prayer.” Accordingly he came to the +front of the platform, lifted up his eyes, told God why he was +there, and besought Him to bless the discussion in the conversion +“of these poor wandering souls, who have said in their +hearts that there is no God, to a saving faith in Him and in the +blood of Christ.” I expected that some resentment +would be displayed when the wandering souls found themselves +treated like errant sheep, but to my surprise they listened with +perfect silence; and when he had said “Amen,” there +were great clappings of hands, and cries of +“Bravo.” They evidently considered the prayer +merely as an elocutionary show-piece. The preacher was much +disconcerted, but he recovered himself, and began his sermon, for +it was nothing more. He enlarged on the fact that men of +the highest eminence had believed in the Old Testament. +Locke and Newton had believed in it, and did it not prove +arrogance in us to doubt when the “gigantic intellect which +had swept the skies, and had announced the law which bound the +universe together was satisfied?” The witness of the +Old Testament to the New was another argument, but his main +reliance was upon the prophecies. From Adam to Isaiah there +was a continuous prefigurement of Christ. Christ was the +point to which everything tended; and “now, my +friends,” he said, “I cannot sit down without +imploring you to turn your eyes on Him who never yet repelled the +sinner, to wash in that eternal Fountain ever open for the +remission of sins, and to flee from the wrath to come. I +believe the sacred symbol of the cross has not yet lost its +efficacy. For eighteen hundred years, whenever it has been +exhibited to the sons of men, it has been potent to reclaim and +save them. ‘I, if I be lifted up,’ cried the +Great Sufferer, ‘will draw all men unto Me,’ and He +has drawn not merely the poor and ignorant but the philosopher +and the sage. Oh, my brethren, think what will happen if +you reject Him. I forbear to paint your doom. And +think again, on the other hand, of the bliss which awaits you if +you receive Him, of the eternal companionship with the Most High +and with the spirits of just men made perfect.” His +hearers again applauded vigorously, and none less so than their +appointed leader, who was to follow on the other side. He +was a little man with small eyes; his shaven face was dark with a +black beard lurking under the skin, and his nose was slightly +turned up. He was evidently a trained debater who had +practised under railway arches, discussion “forums,” +and in the classes promoted by his sect. He began by saying +that he could not compliment his friend who had just sat down on +the inducements which he had offered them to become +Christians. The New Cut was not a nice place on a wet day, +but he had rather sit at a stall there all day long with his feet +on a basket than lie in the bosom of some of the just men made +perfect portrayed in the Bible. Nor, being married, should +he feel particularly at ease if he had to leave his wife with +David. David certainly ought to have got beyond all that +kind of thing, considering it must be over 3000 years since he +first saw Bathsheba; but we are told that the saints are for ever +young in heaven, and this treacherous villain, who would have +been tried by a jury of twelve men and hung outside Newgate if he +had lived in the nineteenth century, might be dangerous +now. He was an amorous old gentleman up to the very +last. (Roars of laughter.) Nor did the speaker feel +particularly anxious to be shut up with all the bishops, who of +course are amongst the elect, and on their departure from this +vale of tears tempered by ten thousand a year, are duly supplied +with wings. Much more followed in the same strain upon the +immorality of the Bible heroes, their cruelty, and the cruelty of +the God who sanctioned it. Then followed a clever +exposition of the inconsistencies of the Old Testament history, +the impossibility of any reference to Jesus therein, and a really +earnest protest against the quibbling by which those who believed +in the Bible as a revelation sought to reconcile it with +science. “Finally,” said the speaker, “I +am sure we all of us will pass a vote of thanks to our reverend +friend for coming to see us, and we cordially invite him to come +again. If I might be allowed to offer a suggestion, it +would be that he should make himself acquainted with our case +before he pays us another visit, and not suppose that we are to +be persuaded with the rhetoric which may do very well for the +young women of his congregation, but won’t go down +here.” This was fair and just, for the eminent +Christian was nothing but an ordinary minister, who, when he was +prepared for his profession, had never been allowed to see what +are the historical difficulties of Christianity, lest he should +be overcome by them. On the other hand, his sceptical +opponents were almost devoid of the faculty for appreciating the +great remains of antiquity, and would probably have considered +the machinery of the Prometheus Bound or of the Iliad a +sufficient reason for a sneer. That they should spend their +time in picking the Bible to pieces when there was so much +positive work for them to do, seemed to me as melancholy as if +they had spent themselves upon theology. To waste a Sunday +morning in ridiculing such stories as that of Jonah was surely as +imbecile as to waste it in proving their verbal veracity.</p> +<h2><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">M’KAY</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was foggy and overcast as we +walked home to Goodge Street. The churches and chapels were +emptying themselves, but the great mass of the population had +been “nowhere.” I had dinner with M’Kay, +and as the day wore on the fog thickened. London on a dark +Sunday afternoon, more especially about Goodge Street, is +depressing. The inhabitants drag themselves hither and +thither in languor and uncertainty. Small mobs loiter at +the doors of the gin palaces. Costermongers wander +aimlessly, calling “walnuts” with a cry so melancholy +that it sounds as the wail of the hopelessly lost may be imagined +to sound when their anguish has been deadened by the monotony of +a million years.</p> +<p>About two or three o’clock decent working men in their +best clothes emerge from the houses in such streets as Nassau +Street. It is part of their duty to go out after dinner on +Sunday with the wife and children. The husband pushes the +perambulator out of the dingy passage, and gazes doubtfully this +way and that way, not knowing whither to go, and evidently +longing for the Monday, when his work, however disagreeable it +may be, will be his plain duty. The wife follows carrying a +child, and a boy and girl in unaccustomed apparel walk by her +side. They come out into Mortimer Street. There are +no shops open; the sky over their heads is mud, the earth is mud +under their feet, the muddy houses stretch in long rows, black, +gaunt, uniform. The little party reach Hyde Park, also +wrapped in impenetrable mud-grey. The man’s face +brightens for a moment as he says, “It is time to go +back,” and so they return, without the interchange of a +word, unless perhaps they happen to see an omnibus horse fall +down on the greasy stones. What is there worth thought or +speech on such an expedition? Nothing! The tradesman +who kept the oil and colour establishment opposite to us was not +to be tempted outside. It was a little more comfortable +than Nassau Street, and, moreover, he was religious and did not +encourage Sabbath-breaking. He and his family always moved +after their mid-day Sabbath repast from the little back room +behind the shop up to what they called the drawing-room +overhead. It was impossible to avoid seeing them every time +we went to the window. The father of the family, after his +heavy meal, invariably sat in the easy-chair with a handkerchief +over his eyes and slept. The children were always at the +windows, pretending to read books, but in reality watching the +people below. At about four o’clock their papa +generally awoke, and demanded a succession of hymn tunes played +on the piano. When the weather permitted, the lower sash +was opened a little, and the neighbours were indulged with the +performance of “Vital Spark,” the father +“coming in” now and then with a bass note or two at +the end where he was tolerably certain of the harmony. At +five o’clock a prophecy of the incoming tea brought us some +relief from the contemplation of the landscape or +brick-scape. I say “some relief,” for meals at +M’Kay’s were a little disagreeable. His wife +was an honest, good little woman, but so much attached to him and +so dependent on him that she was his mere echo. She had no +opinions which were not his, and whenever he said anything which +went beyond the ordinary affairs of the house, she listened with +curious effort, and generally responded by a weakened repetition +of M’Kay’s own observations. He perpetually, +therefore, had before him an enfeebled reflection of himself, and +this much irritated him, notwithstanding his love for her; for +who could help loving a woman who, without the least hesitation, +would have opened her veins at his command, and have given up +every drop of blood in her body for him? Over and over +again I have heard him offer some criticism on a person or event, +and the customary chime of approval would ensue, provoking him to +such a degree that he would instantly contradict himself with +much bitterness, leaving poor Mrs. M’Kay in much +perplexity. Such a shot as this generally reduced her to +timid silence. As a rule, he always discouraged any topic +at his house which was likely to serve as an occasion for showing +his wife’s dependence on him. He designedly talked +about her household affairs, asked her whether she had mended his +clothes and ordered the coals. She knew that these things +were not what was upon his mind, and she answered him in +despairing tones, which showed how much she felt the obtrusive +condescension to her level. I greatly pitied her, and +sometimes, in fact, my emotion at the sight of her struggles with +her limitations almost overcame me and I was obliged to get up +and go. She was childishly affectionate. If +M’Kay came in and happened to go up to her and kiss her, +her face brightened into the sweetest and happiest smile. I +recollect once after he had been unusually annoyed with her he +repented just as he was leaving home, and put his lips to her +head, holding it in both his hands. I saw her gently take +the hand from her forehead and press it to her mouth, the tears +falling down her cheek meanwhile. Nothing would ever tempt +her to admit anything against her husband. M’Kay was +violent and unjust at times. His occupation he hated, and +his restless repugnance to it frequently discharged itself +indifferently upon everything which came in his way. His +children often thought him almost barbarous, but in truth he did +not actually see them when he was in one of these moods. +What was really present with him, excluding everything else, was +the sting of something more than usually repulsive of which they +knew nothing. Mrs. M’Kay’s answer to her +children’s remonstrances when they were alone with her +always was, “He is so worried,” and she invariably +dwelt upon their faults which had given him the opportunity for +his wrath.</p> +<p>I think M’Kay’s treatment of her wholly +wrong. I think that he ought not to have imposed himself +upon her so imperiously. I think he ought to have striven +to ascertain what lay concealed in that modest heart, to have +encouraged its expression and development, to have debased +himself before her that she might receive courage to rise, and he +would have found that she had something which he had not; not +<i>his</i> something perhaps, but something which would have made +his life happier. As it was, he stood upon his own ground +above her. If she could reach him, well and good, if not, +the helping hand was not proffered, and she fell back, +hopeless. Later on he discovered his mistake. She +became ill very gradually, and M’Kay began to see in the +distance a prospect of losing her. A frightful pit came in +view. He became aware that he could not do without +her. He imagined what his home would have been with other +women whom he knew, and he confessed that with them he would have +been less contented. He acknowledged that he had been +guilty of a kind of criminal epicurism; that he rejected in +foolish, fatal, nay, even wicked indifference, the bread of life +upon which he might have lived and thriven. His whole +effort now was to suppress himself in his wife. He read to +her, a thing he never did before, and when she misunderstood, he +patiently explained; he took her into his counsels and asked her +opinion; he abandoned his own opinion for hers, and in the +presence of her children he always deferred to her, and delighted +to acknowledge that she knew more than he did, that she was right +and he was wrong. She was now confined to her house, and +the end was near, but this was the most blessed time of her +married life. She grew under the soft rain of his loving +care, and opened out, not, indeed, into an oriental flower, rich +in profound mystery of scent and colour, but into a blossom of +the chalk-down. Altogether concealed and closed she would +have remained if it had not been for this beneficent and heavenly +gift poured upon her. He had just time enough to see what +she really was, and then she died. There are some natures +that cannot unfold under pressure or in the presence of +unregarding power. Hers was one. They require a clear +space round them, the removal of everything which may overmaster +them, and constant delicate attention. They require too a +recognition of the fact, which M’Kay for a long time did +not recognise, that it is folly to force them and to demand of +them that they shall be what they cannot be. I stood by the +grave this morning of my poor, pale, clinging little friend now +for some years at peace, and I thought that the tragedy of +Promethean torture or Christ-like crucifixion may indeed be +tremendous, but there is a tragedy too in the existence of a soul +like hers, conscious of its feebleness and ever striving to +overpass it, ever aware that it is an obstacle to the return of +the affection of the man whom she loves.</p> +<p>Meals, as I have said, were disagreeable at +M’Kay’s, and when we wanted to talk we went out of +doors. The evening after our visit to the debating hall we +moved towards Portland Place, and walked up and down there for an +hour or more. M’Kay had a passionate desire to reform +the world. The spectacle of the misery of London, and of +the distracted swaying hither and thither of the multitudes who +inhabit it, tormented him incessantly. He always chafed at +it, and he never seemed sure that he had a right to the enjoyment +of the simplest pleasures so long as London was before him. +What a farce, he would cry, is all this poetry, philosophy, art, +and culture, when millions of wretched mortals are doomed to the +eternal darkness and crime of the city! Here are the +educated classes occupying themselves with exquisite emotions, +with speculations upon the Infinite, with addresses to flowers, +with the worship of waterfalls and flying clouds, and with the +incessant portraiture of a thousand moods and variations of love, +while their neighbours lie grovelling in the mire, and never know +anything more of life or its duties than is afforded them by a +police report in a bit of newspaper picked out of the +kennel. We went one evening to hear a great violin-player, +who played such music, and so exquisitely, that the limits of +life were removed. But we had to walk up the Haymarket +home, between eleven and twelve o’clock, and the +violin-playing became the merest trifling. M’Kay had +been brought up upon the Bible. He had before him, not only +there, but in the history of all great religious movements, a +record of the improvement of the human race, or of large portions +of it, not merely by gradual civilisation, but by inspiration +spreading itself suddenly. He could not get it out of his +head that something of this kind is possible again in our +time. He longed to try for himself in his own poor way in +one of the slums about Drury Lane. I sympathised with him, +but I asked him what he had to say. I remember telling him +that I had been into St. Paul’s Cathedral, and that I +pictured to myself the cathedral full, and myself in the +pulpit. I was excited while imagining the opportunity +offered me of delivering some message to three or four thousand +persons in such a building, but in a minute or two I discovered +that my sermon would be very nearly as follows: “Dear +friends, I know no more than you know; we had better go +home.” I admitted to him that if he could believe in +hell-fire, or if he could proclaim the Second Advent, as Paul did +to the Thessalonians, and get people to believe, he might change +their manners, but otherwise he could do nothing but resort to a +much slower process. With the departure of a belief in the +supernatural departs once and for ever the chance of regenerating +the race except by the school and by science. <a +name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a> However, M’Kay thought he +would try. His earnestness was rather a hindrance than a +help to him, for it prevented his putting certain important +questions to himself, or at any rate it prevented his waiting for +distinct answers. He recurred to the apostles and Bunyan, +and was convinced that it was possible even now to touch depraved +men and women with an idea which should recast their lives. +So it is that the main obstacle to our success is a success which +has preceded us. We instinctively follow the antecedent +form, and consequently we either pass by, or deny altogether, the +life of our own time, because its expression has changed. +We never do practically believe that the Messiah is not +incarnated twice in the same flesh. He came as Jesus, and +we look for Him as Jesus now, overlooking the manifestation of +to-day, and dying, perhaps, without recognising it.</p> +<p>M’Kay had found a room near Parker Street, Drury Lane, +in which he proposed to begin, and that night, as we trod the +pavement of Portland Place, he propounded his plans to me, I +listening without much confidence, but loth nevertheless to take +the office of Time upon myself, and to disprove what experience +would disprove more effectually. His object was nothing +less than gradually to attract Drury Lane to come and be +saved.</p> +<p>The first Sunday I went with him to the room. As we +walked over the Drury Lane gratings of the cellars a most foul +stench came up, and one in particular I remember to this +day. A man half dressed pushed open a broken window beneath +us, just as we passed by, and there issued such a blast of +corruption, made up of gases bred by filth, air breathed and +rebreathed a hundred times, charged with odours of unnameable +personal uncleanness and disease, that I staggered to the gutter +with a qualm which I could scarcely conquer. At the doors +of the houses stood grimy women with their arms folded and their +hair disordered. Grimier boys and girls had tied a rope to +broken railings, and were swinging on it. The common door +to a score of lodgings stood ever open, and the children swarmed +up and down the stairs carrying with them patches of mud every +time they came in from the street. The wholesome practice +which amongst the decent poor marks off at least one day in the +week as a day on which there is to be a change; when there is to +be some attempt to procure order and cleanliness; a day to be +preceded by soap and water, by shaving, and by as many clean +clothes as can be procured, was unknown here. There was no +break in the uniformity of squalor; nor was it even possible for +any single family to emerge amidst such altogether suppressive +surroundings. All self-respect, all effort to do anything +more than to satisfy somehow the grossest wants, had +departed. The shops were open; most of them exhibiting a +most miscellaneous collection of goods, such as bacon cut in +slices, fire-wood, a few loaves of bread, and sweetmeats in dirty +bottles. Fowls, strange to say, black as the flagstones, +walked in and out of these shops, or descended into the dark +areas. The undertaker had not put up his shutters. He +had drawn down a yellow blind, on which was painted a picture of +a suburban cemetery. Two funerals, the loftiest effort of +his craft, were depicted approaching the gates. When the +gas was alight behind the blind, an effect was produced which was +doubtless much admired. He also displayed in his window a +model coffin, a work of art. It was about a foot long, +varnished, studded with little brass nails, and on the lid was +fastened a rustic cross stretching from end to end. The +desire to decorate existence in some way or other with more or +less care is nearly universal. The most sensual and the +meanest almost always manifest an indisposition to be content +with mere material satisfaction. I have known selfish, +gluttonous, drunken men spend their leisure moments in trimming a +bed of scarlet geraniums, and the vulgarest and most commonplace +of mortals considers it a necessity to put a picture in the room +or an ornament on the mantelpiece. The instinct, even in +its lowest forms, is divine. It is the commentary on the +text that man shall not live by bread alone. It is evidence +of an acknowledged compulsion—of which art is the highest +manifestation—to <i>escape</i>. In the alleys behind +Drury Lane this instinct, the very salt of life, was dead, +crushed out utterly, a symptom which seemed to me ominous, and +even awful to the last degree. The only house in which it +survived was in that of the undertaker, who displayed the +willows, the black horses, and the coffin. These may have +been nothing more than an advertisement, but from the care with +which the cross was elaborated, and the neatness with which it +was made to resemble a natural piece of wood, I am inclined to +believe that the man felt some pleasure in his work for its own +sake, and that he was not utterly submerged. The cross in +such dens as these, or, worse than dens, in such sewers! If +it be anything, it is a symbol of victory, of power to triumph +over resistance, and even death. Here was nothing but +sullen subjugation, the most grovelling slavery, mitigated only +by a tendency to mutiny. Here was a strength of +circumstance to quell and dominate which neither Jesus nor Paul +could have overcome—worse a thousandfold than Scribes or +Pharisees, or any form of persecution. The preaching of +Jesus would have been powerless here; in fact, no known stimulus, +nothing ever held up before men to stir the soul to activity, can +do anything in the back streets of great cities so long as they +are the cesspools which they are now.</p> +<p>We came to the room. About a score of +M’Kay’s own friends were there, and perhaps +half-a-dozen outsiders, attracted by the notice which had been +pasted on a board at the entrance. M’Kay announced +his errand. The ignorance and misery of London he said were +intolerable to him. He could not take any pleasure in life +when he thought upon them. What could he do? that was the +question. He was not a man of wealth. He could not +buy up these hovels. He could not force an entrance into +them and persuade their inhabitants to improve themselves. +He had no talents wherewith to found a great organisation or +create public opinion. He had determined, after much +thought, to do what he was now doing. It was very little, +but it was all he could undertake. He proposed to keep this +room open as a place to which those who wished might resort at +different times, and find some quietude, instruction, and what +fortifying thoughts he could collect to enable men to endure +their almost unendurable sufferings. He did not intend to +teach theology. Anything which would be serviceable he +would set forth, but in the main he intended to rely on holding +up the examples of those who were greater than ourselves and were +our redeemers. He meant to teach Christ in the proper sense +of the word. Christ now is admired probably more than He +had ever been. Everybody agrees to admire Him, but where +are the people who really do what He did? There is no +religion now-a-days. Religion is a mere literature. +Cultivated persons sit in their studies and write overflowingly +about Jesus, or meet at parties and talk about Him; but He is not +of much use to me unless I say to myself, <i>how is it with +thee</i>? unless I myself become what He was. This was the +meaning of Jesus to the Apostle Paul. Jesus was in him; he +had put on Jesus; that is to say, Jesus lived in him like a +second soul, taking the place of his own soul and directing him +accordingly. That was religion, and it is absurd to say +that the English nation at this moment, or any section of it, is +religious. Its educated classes are inhabited by a hundred +minds. We are in a state of anarchy, each of us with a +different aim and shaping himself according to a different type; +while the uneducated classes are entirely given over to the +“natural man.” He was firmly persuaded that we +need religion, poor and rich alike. We need some +controlling influence to bind together our scattered +energies. We do not know what we are doing. We read +one book one day and another book another day, but it is idle +wandering to right and left; it is not advancing on a straight +road. It is not possible to bind ourselves down to a +certain defined course, but still it is an enormous, an +incalculable advantage for us to have some irreversible standard +set up in us by which everything we meet is to be judged. +That is the meaning of the prophecy—whether it will ever be +fulfilled God only knows—that Christ shall judge the +world. All religions have been this. They have said +that in the midst of the infinitely possible—infinitely +possible evil and infinitely possible good too—we become +distracted. A thousand forces good and bad act upon +us. It is necessary, if we are to be men, if we are to be +saved, that we should be rescued from this tumult, and that our +feet should be planted upon a path. His object, therefore, +would be to preach Christ, as before said, and to introduce into +human life His unifying influence. He would try and get +them to see things with the eyes of Christ, to love with His +love, to judge with His judgment. He believed Christ was +fitted to occupy this place. He deliberately chose Christ +as worthy to be our central, shaping force. He would try by +degrees to prove this; to prove that Christ’s way of +dealing with life is the best way, and so to create a genuinely +Christian spirit, which, when any choice of conduct is presented +to us, will prompt us to ask first of all, <i>how would Christ +have it</i>? or, when men and things pass before us, will decide +through him what we have to say about them. M’Kay +added that he hoped his efforts would not be confined to +talking. He trusted to be able, by means of this little +meeting, gradually to gain admittance for himself and his friends +into the houses of the poor and do some practical good. At +present he had no organisation and no plans. He did not +believe in organisation and plans preceding a clear conception of +what was to be accomplished. Such, as nearly as I can now +recollect, is an outline of his discourse. It was +thoroughly characteristic of him. He always talked in this +fashion. He was for ever insisting on the aimlessness of +modern life, on the powerlessness of its vague activities to +mould men into anything good, to restrain them from evil or +moderate their passions, and he was possessed by a vision of a +new Christianity which was to take the place of the old and dead +theologies. I have reported him in my own language. +He strove as much as he could to make his meaning plain to +everybody. Just before he finished, three or four out of +the half-a-dozen outsiders who were present whistled with all +their might and ran down the stairs shouting to one +another. As we went out they had collected about the door, +and amused themselves by pushing one another against us, and +kicking an old kettle behind us and amongst us all the way up the +street, so that we were covered with splashes. Mrs. +M’Kay went with us, and when we reached home, she tried to +say something about what she had heard. The cloud came over +her husband’s face at once; he remained silent for a +minute, and getting up and going to the window, observed that it +ought to be cleaned, and that he could hardly see the opposite +house. The poor woman looked distressed, and I was just +about to come to her rescue by continuing what she had been +saying, when she rose, not in anger, but in trouble, and went +upstairs.</p> +<h2><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MISS LEROY</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the great French war there +were many French prisoners in my native town. They led a +strange isolated life, for they knew nothing of our language, +nor, in those days, did three people in the town understand +theirs. The common soldiers amused themselves by making +little trifles and selling them. I have now before me a box +of coloured straw with the date 1799 on the bottom, which was +bought by my grandfather. One of these prisoners was an +officer named Leroy. Why he did not go back to France I +never heard, but I know that before I was born he was living near +our house on a small income; that he tried to teach French, and +that he had as his companion a handsome daughter who grew up +speaking English. What she was like when she was young I +cannot say, but I have had her described to me over and over +again. She had rather darkish brown hair, and she was tall +and straight as an arrow. This she was, by the way, even +into old age. She surprised, shocked, and attracted all the +sober persons in our circle. Her ways were not their +ways. She would walk out by herself on a starry night +without a single companion, and cause thereby infinite talk, +which would have converged to a single focus if it had not +happened that she was also in the habit of walking out at four +o’clock on a summer’s morning, and that in the church +porch of a little village not far from us, which was her +favourite resting-place, a copy of the <i>De Imitatione +Christi</i> was found which belonged to her. So the talk +was scattered again and its convergence prevented. She used +to say doubtful things about love. One of them struck my +mother with horror. Miss Leroy told a male person once, and +told him to his face, that if she loved him and he loved her, and +they agreed to sign one another’s foreheads with a cross as +a ceremony, it would be as good to her as marriage. This +may seem a trifle, but nobody now can imagine what was thought of +it at the time it was spoken. My mother repeated it every +now and then for fifty years. It may be conjectured how +easily any other girls of our acquaintance would have been +classified, and justly classified, if they had uttered such +barefaced Continental immorality. Miss Leroy’s +neighbours were remarkably apt at classifying their +fellow-creatures. They had a few, a very few holes, into +which they dropped their neighbours, and they must go into one or +the other. Nothing was more distressing than a specimen +which, notwithstanding all the violence which might be used to +it, would not fit into a hole, but remained an exception. +Some lout, I believe, reckoning on the legitimacy of his +generalisation, and having heard of this and other observations +accredited to Miss Leroy, ventured to be slightly rude to +her. What she said to him was never known, but he was +always shy afterwards of mentioning her name, and when he did he +was wont to declare that she was “a rum un.” +She was not particular, I have heard, about personal tidiness, +and this I can well believe, for she was certainly not +distinguished when I knew her for this virtue. She cared +nothing for the linen-closet, the spotless bed-hangings, and the +bright poker, which were the true household gods of the +respectable women of those days. She would have been +instantly set down as “slut,” and as having +“nasty dirty forrin ways,” if a peculiar habit of +hers had not unfortunately presented itself, most irritating to +her critics, so anxious promptly to gratify their philosophic +tendency towards scientific grouping. Mrs. Mobbs, who lived +next door to her, averred that she always slept with the window +open. Mrs. Mobbs, like everybody else, never opened her +window except to “air the room.” Mrs. +Mobbs’ best bedroom was carpeted all over, and contained a +great four-post bedstead, hung round with heavy hangings, and +protected at the top from draughts by a kind of firmament of +white dimity. Mrs. Mobbs stuffed a sack of straw up the +chimney of the fireplace, to prevent the fall of the +“sutt,” as she called it. Mrs. Mobbs, if she +had a visitor, gave her a hot supper, and expected her +immediately afterwards to go upstairs, draw the window curtains, +get into this bed, draw the bed curtains also, and wake up the +next morning “bilious.” This was the proper +thing to do. Miss Leroy’s sitting-room was decidedly +disorderly; the chairs were dusty; “yer might write yer +name on the table,” Mrs. Mobbs declared; but, nevertheless, +the casement was never closed night nor day; and, moreover, Miss +Leroy was believed by the strongest circumstantial evidence to +wash herself all over every morning, a habit which Mrs. Mobbs +thought “weakening,” and somehow connected with +ethical impropriety. When Miss Leroy was married, and first +as an elderly woman became known to me, she was very +inconsequential in her opinions, or at least appeared so to our +eyes. She must have been much more so when she was +younger. In our town we were all formed upon recognised +patterns, and those who possessed any one mark of the pattern, +had all. The wine-merchant, for example, who went to +church, eminently respectable, Tory, by no means associating with +the tradesfolk who displayed their goods in the windows, knowing +no “experience,” and who had never felt the +outpouring of the Spirit, was a specimen of a class like +him. Another class was represented by the dissenting +ironmonger, deacon, presiding at prayer-meetings, strict +Sabbatarian, and believer in eternal punishments; while a third +was set forth by “Guffy,” whose real name was +unknown, who got drunk, unloaded barges, assisted at the +municipal elections, and was never once seen inside a place of +worship. These patterns had existed amongst us from the +dimmest antiquity, and were accepted as part of the eternal order +of things; so much so, that the deacon, although he professed to +be sure that nobody who had not been converted would escape the +fire—and the wine-merchant certainly had not been +converted—was very far from admitting to himself that the +wine-merchant ought to be converted, or that it would be proper +to try and convert him. I doubt, indeed, whether our +congregation would have been happy, or would have thought any the +better of him, if he had left the church. Such an event, +however, could no more come within the reach of our vision than a +reversal of the current of our river. It would have broken +up our foundations and party-walls, and would have been +considered as ominous, and anything but a subject for +thankfulness. But Miss Leroy was not the wine-merchant, nor +the ironmonger, nor Guffy, and even now I cannot trace the hidden +centre of union from which sprang so much that was apparently +irreconcilable. She was a person whom nobody could have +created in writing a novel, because she was so +inconsistent. As I have said before, she studied Thomas +à Kempis, and her little French Bible was brown with +constant use. But then she read much fiction in which there +were scenes which would have made our hair stand on end. +The only thing she constantly abhorred in books was what was dull +and opaque. Yet, as we shall see presently, her dislike to +dulness, once at least in her life, notably failed her. She +was not Catholic, and professed herself Protestant, but such a +Protestantism! She had no sceptical doubts. She +believed implicitly that the Bible was the Word of God, and that +everything in it was true, but her interpretation of it was of +the strangest kind. Almost all our great doctrines seemed +shrunk to nothing in her eyes, while others, which were nothing +to us, were all-important to her. The atonement, for +instance, I never heard her mention, but Unitarianism was hateful +to her, and Jesus was her God in every sense of the word. +On the other hand, she was partly Pagan, for she knew very little +of that consideration for the feeble, and even for the foolish, +which is the glory of Christianity. She was rude to foolish +people, and she instinctively kept out of the way of all disease +and weakness, so that in this respect she was far below the +commonplace tradesman’s wife, who visited the sick, sat up +with them, and, in fact, never seemed so completely in her +element as when she could be with anybody who was ill in bed.</p> +<p>Miss Leroy’s father was republican, and so was my +grandfather. My grandfather and old Leroy were the only +people in our town who refused to illuminate when a victory was +gained over the French. Leroy’s windows were spared +on the ground that he was not a Briton, but the mob endeavoured +to show my grandfather the folly of his belief in democracy by +smashing every pane of glass in front of his house with +stones. This drew him and Leroy together, and the result +was, that although Leroy himself never set foot inside any chapel +or church, Miss Leroy was often induced to attend our +meeting-house in company with a maiden aunt of mine, who rather +“took to her.” Now comes the for ever +mysterious passage in history. There was amongst the +attendants at that meeting-house a young man who was apprentice +to a miller. He was a big, soft, quiet, plump-faced, +awkward youth, very good, but nothing more. He wore on +Sunday a complete suit of light pepper-and-salt clothes, and +continued to wear pepper-and-salt on Sunday all his life. +He taught in the Sunday-school, and afterwards, as he got older, +he was encouraged to open his lips at a prayer-meeting, and to +“take the service” in the village chapels on Sunday +evening. He was the most singularly placid, even-tempered +person I ever knew. I first became acquainted with him when +I was a child and he was past middle life. What he was +then, I am told, he always was; and I certainly never heard one +single violent word escape his lips. His habits, even when +young, had a tendency to harden. He went to sleep after his +mid-day dinner with the greatest regularity, and he never could +keep awake if he sat by a fire after dark. I have seen him, +when kneeling at family worship and praying with his family, lose +himself for an instant and nod his head, to the confusion of all +who were around him. He is dead now, but he lived to a good +old age, which crept upon him gradually with no pain, and he +passed away from this world to the next in a peaceful doze. +He never read anything, for the simple reason that whenever he +was not at work or at chapel he slumbered. To the utter +amazement of everybody, it was announced one fine day that Miss +Leroy and he—George Butts—were to be married. +They were about the last people in the world, who, it was +thought, could be brought together. My mother was stunned, +and never completely recovered. I have seen her, forty +years after George Butts’ wedding-day, lift up her hands, +and have heard her call out with emotion, as fresh as if the +event were of yesterday, “What made that girl have George I +can <i>not</i> think—but there!” What she meant +by the last two words we could not comprehend. Many of her +acquaintances interpreted them to mean that she knew more than +she dared communicate, but I think they were mistaken. I am +quite certain if she had known anything she must have told it, +and, in the next place, the phrase “but there” was +not uncommon amongst women in our town, and was supposed to mark +the consciousness of a prudently restrained ability to give an +explanation of mysterious phenomena in human relationships. +For my own part, I am just as much in the dark as my +mother. My father, who was a shrewd man, was always +puzzled, and could not read the riddle. He used to say that +he never thought George could have “made up” to any +young woman, and it was quite clear that Miss Leroy did not +either then or afterwards display any violent affection for +him. I have heard her criticise and patronise him as a +“good soul,” but incapable, as indeed he was, of all +sympathy with her. After marriage she went her way and he +his. She got up early, as she was wont to do, and took her +Bible into the fields while he was snoring. She would then +very likely suffer from a terrible headache during the rest of +the day, and lie down for hours, letting the house manage itself +as best it could. What made her selection of George more +obscure was that she was much admired by many young fellows, some +of whom were certainly more akin to her than he was; and I have +heard from one or two reports of encouraging words, and even +something more than words, which she had vouchsafed to +them. A solution is impossible. The affinities, +repulsions, reasons in a nature like that of Miss Leroy’s +are so secret and so subtle, working towards such incalculable +and not-to-be-predicted results, that to attempt to make a major +and minor premiss and an inevitable conclusion out of them would +be useless. One thing was clear, that by marrying George +she gained great freedom. If she had married anybody closer +to her, she might have jarred with him; there might have been +collision and wreck as complete as if they had been entirely +opposed; for she was not the kind of person to accommodate +herself to others even in the matter of small differences. +But George’s road through space lay entirely apart from +hers, and there was not the slightest chance of +interference. She was under the protection of a husband; +she could do things that, as an unmarried woman, especially in a +foreign land, she could not do, and the compensatory sacrifice to +her was small. This is really the only attempt at +elucidation I can give. She went regularly all her life to +chapel with George, but even when he became deacon, and +“supplied” the villages round, she never would join +the church as a member. She never agreed with the minister, +and he never could make anything out of her. They did not +quarrel, but she thought nothing of his sermons, and he was +perplexed and uncomfortable in the presence of a nondescript who +did not respond to any dogmatic statement of the articles of +religion, and who yet could not be put aside as “one of +those in the gallery”—that is to say, as one of the +ordinary unconverted, for she used to quote hymns with amazing +fervour, and she quoted them to him with a freedom and a certain +superiority which he might have expected from an aged brother +minister, but certainly not from one of his own +congregation. He was a preacher of the Gospel, it was true; +and it was his duty, a duty on which he insisted, to be +“instant in season and out of season” in saying +spiritual things to his flock; but then they were things proper, +decent, conventional, uttered with gravity at suitable +times—such as were customary amongst all the ministers of +the denomination. It was not pleasant to be outbid in his +own department, especially by one who was not a communicant, and +to be obliged, when he went on a pastoral visit to a house in +which Mrs. Butts happened to be, to sit still and hear her, +regardless of the minister’s presence, conclude a short +mystical monologue with Cowper’s verse—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Exults our rising soul,<br /> + Disburdened of her load,<br /> +And swells unutterably full<br /> + Of glory and of God.”</p> +<p>This was <i>not</i> pleasant to our minister, nor was it +pleasant to the minister’s wife. But George Butts +held a responsible position in our community, and the +minister’s wife held also a responsible position, so that +she taxed all her ingenuity to let her friends understand at +tea-parties what she thought of Mrs. Butts without saying +anything which could be the ground of formal remonstrance. +Thus did Mrs. Butts live among us, as an Arabian bird with its +peculiar habits, cries, and plumage might live in one of our +barn-yards with the ordinary barn-door fowls.</p> +<p>I was never happier when I was a boy than when I was with Mrs. +Butts at the mill, which George had inherited. There was a +grand freedom in her house. The front door leading into the +garden was always open. There was no precise separation +between the house and the mill. The business and the +dwelling-place were mixed up together, and covered with +flour. Mr. Butts was in the habit of walking out of his +mill into the living-room every now and then, and never dreamed +when one o’clock came that it was necessary for him to +change his floury coat before he had his dinner. His cap he +also often retained, and in any weather, not extraordinarily +cold, he sat in his shirtsleeves. The garden was large and +half-wild. A man from the mill, if work was slack, gave a +day to it now and then, but it was not trimmed and raked and +combed like the other gardens in the town. It was full of +gooseberry trees, and I was permitted to eat the gooseberries +without stint. The mill-life, too, was inexpressibly +attractive—the dark chamber with the great, green, dripping +wheel in it, so awfully mysterious as the central life of the +whole structure; the machinery connected with the wheel—I +knew not how; the hole where the roach lay by the side of the +mill-tail in the eddy; the haunts of the water-rats which we used +to hunt with Spot, the black and tan terrier, and the still more +exciting sport with the ferrets—all this drew me down the +lane perpetually. I liked, and even loved Mrs. Butts, too, +for her own sake. Her kindness to me was unlimited, and she +was never overcome with the fear of “spoiling me,” +which seemed the constant dread of most of my hostesses. I +never lost my love for her. It grew as I grew, despite my +mother’s scarcely suppressed hostility to her, and when I +heard she was ill, and was likely to die, I went to be with +her. She was eighty years old then. I sat by her +bedside with her hand in mine. I was there when she passed +away, and—but I have no mind and no power to say any more, +for all the memories of her affection and of the sunny days by +the water come over me and prevent the calmness necessary for a +chronicle. She with all her faults and eccentricities will +always have in my heart a little chapel with an ever-burning +light. She was one of the very very few whom I have ever +seen who knew how to love a child.</p> +<p>Mrs. Butts and George had one son who was named Clement. +He was exactly my own age, and naturally we were constant +companions. We went to the same school. He never +distinguished himself at his books, but he was chief among +us. He had a versatile talent for almost every +accomplishment in which we delighted, but he was not supreme in +any one of them. There were better cricketers, better +football players, better hands at setting a night-line, better +swimmers than Clem, but he could do something, and do it well, in +all these departments. He generally took up a thing with +much eagerness for a time, and then let it drop. He was +foremost in introducing new games and new fashions, which he +permitted to flourish for a time, and then superseded. As +he grew up he displayed a taste for drawing and music. He +was soon able to copy little paintings of flowers, or even little +country scenes, and to play a piece of no very great difficulty +with tolerable effect. But as he never was taught by a +master, and never practised elementary exercises and studies, he +was deficient in accuracy. When the question came what was +to be done with him after he left school, his father naturally +wished him to go into the mill. Clem, however, set his face +steadily against this project, and his mother, who was a believer +in his genius, supported him. He actually wanted to go to +the University, a thing unheard of in those days amongst our +people; but this was not possible, and after dangling about for +some time at home, he obtained the post of usher in a school, an +occupation which he considered more congenial and intellectual +than that of grinding flour. Strange to say, although he +knew less than any of his colleagues, he succeeded better than +any of them. He managed to impress a sense of his own +importance upon everybody, including the headmaster. He +slid into a position of superiority above three or four +colleagues who would have shamed him at an examination, and who +uttered many a curse because they saw themselves surpassed and +put in the shade by a stranger, who, they were confident, could +hardly construct a hexameter. He never quarrelled with them +nor did he grossly patronise them, but he always let them know +that he considered himself above them. His reading was +desultory; in fact, everything he did was desultory. He was +not selfish in the ordinary sense of the word. Rather was +he distinguished by a large and liberal open-handedness; but he +was liberal also to himself to a remarkable degree, dressing +himself expensively, and spending a good deal of money in +luxuries. He was specially fond of insisting on his half +French origin, made a great deal of his mother, was silent as to +his father, and always signed himself C. Leroy Butts, although I +don’t believe the second Christian name was given him in +baptism. Notwithstanding his generosity he was egotistical +and hollow at heart. He knew nothing of friendship in the +best sense of the word, but had a multitude of acquaintances, +whom he invariably sought amongst those who were better off than +himself. He was popular with them, for no man knew better +than he how to get up an entertainment, or to make a success of +an evening party. He had not been at his school for two +years before he conceived the notion of setting up for +himself. He had not a penny, but he borrowed easily what +was wanted from somebody he knew, and in a twelvemonth more he +had a dozen pupils. He took care to get the ablest +subordinates he could find, and he succeeded in passing a boy for +an open scholarship at Oxford, against two competitors prepared +by the very man whom he had formerly served. After this he +prospered greatly, and would have prospered still more, if his +love of show and extravagance had not increased with his +income. His talents were sometimes taxed when people who +came to place their sons with him supposed ignorantly that his +origin and attainments were what might be expected from his +position; and poor Chalmers, a Glasgow M.A., who still taught, +for £80 a year, the third class in the establishment in +which Butts began life, had some bitter stories on that +subject. Chalmers was a perfect scholar, but he was not +agreeable. He had black finger-nails, and wore dirty +collars. Having a lively remembrance of his friend’s +“general acquaintance” with Latin prosody, +Chalmers’ opinion of Providence was much modified when he +discovered what Providence was doing for Butts. Clem took +to the Church when he started for himself. It would have +been madness in him to remain a Dissenter. But in private, +if it suited his purpose, he could always be airily sceptical, +and he had a superficial acquaintance, second-hand, with a +multitude of books, many of them of an infidel turn. I once +rebuked him for his hypocrisy, and his defence was that religious +disputes were indifferent to him, and that at any rate a man +associates with gentlemen if he is a churchman. Cultivation +and manners he thought to be of more importance than +Calvinism. I believe that he partly meant what he +said. He went to church because the school would have +failed if he had gone to chapel; but he was sufficiently +keen-sighted and clever to be beyond the petty quarrels of the +sects, and a song well sung was of much greater moment to him +than an essay on pædo-baptism. It was all very well +of Chalmers to revile him for his shallowness. He was +shallow, and yet he possessed in some mysterious way a talent +which I greatly coveted, and which in this world is inestimably +precious—the talent of making people give way before +him—a capacity of self-impression. Chalmers could +never have commanded anybody. He had no power whatever, +even when he was right, to put his will against the wills of +others, but yielded first this way and then the other. +Clem, on the contrary, without any difficulty or any effort, +could conquer all opposition, and smilingly force everybody to do +his bidding.</p> +<p>Clem had a peculiar theory with regard to his own rights and +those of the class to which he considered that he belonged. +He always held implicitly and sometimes explicitly that gifted +people live under a kind of dispensation of grace; the law +existing solely for dull souls. What in a clown is a crime +punishable by the laws of the land might in a man of genius be a +necessary development, or at any rate an excusable offence. +He had nothing to say for the servant-girl who had sinned with +the shopman, but if artist or poet were to carry off another +man’s wife, it might not be wrong.</p> +<p>He believed, and acted upon the belief, that the inferior +ought to render perpetual incense to the superior, and that the +superior should receive it as a matter of course. When his +father was ill he never waited on him or sat up a single night +with him. If duty was disagreeable to him Clem paid homage +to it afar off, but pleaded exemption. He admitted that +waiting on the sick is obligatory on people who are fitted for +it, and is very charming. Nothing was more beautiful to him +than tender, filial care spending itself for a beloved +object. But it was not his vocation. His nerves were +more finely ordered than those of mankind generally, and the +sight of disease and suffering distressed him too much. +Everything was surrendered to him in the houses of his +friends. If any inconvenience was to be endured, he was the +first person to be protected from it, and he accepted the +greatest sacrifices, with a graceful acknowledgment, it is true, +but with no repulse. To what better purpose could the best +wine be put than in cherishing his imagination. It was +simple waste to allow it to be poured out upon the earth, and to +give it to a fool was no better. After he succeeded so well +in the world, Clem, to a great extent, deserted me, although I +was his oldest friend and the friend of his childhood. I +heard that he visited a good many rich persons, that he made much +of them, and they made much of him. He kept up a kind of +acquaintance with me, not by writing to me, but by the very cheap +mode of sending me a newspaper now and then with a marked +paragraph in it announcing the exploits of his school at a +cricket-match, or occasionally with a report of a lecture which +he had delivered. He was a decent orator, and from motives +of business if from no other, he not unfrequently spoke in +public. One or two of these lectures wounded me a good +deal. There was one in particular on <i>As You Like It</i>, +in which he held up to admiration the fidelity which is so +remarkable in Shakespeare, and lamented that in these days it was +so rare to find anything of the kind, he thought that we were +becoming more indifferent to one another. He maintained, +however, that man should be everything to man, and he then +enlarged on the duty of really cultivating affection, of its +superiority to books, and on the pleasure and profit of +self-denial. I do not mean to accuse Clem of downright +hypocrisy. I have known many persons come up from the +country and go into raptures over a playhouse sun and moon who +have never bestowed a glance or a thought on the real sun and +moon to be seen from their own doors; and we are all aware it by +no means follows because we are moved to our very depths by the +spectacle of unrecognised, uncomplaining endurance in a novel, +that therefore we can step over the road to waste an hour or a +sixpence upon the unrecognised, uncomplaining endurance of the +poor lone woman left a widow in the little villa there. I +was annoyed with myself because Clem’s abandonment of me so +much affected me. I wished I could cut the rope and +carelessly cast him adrift as he had cast me adrift, but I could +not. I never could make out and cannot make out what was +the secret of his influence over me; why I was unable to say, +“If you do not care for me I do not care for +you.” I longed sometimes for complete rupture, so +that we might know exactly where we were, but it never +came. Gradually our intercourse grew thinner and thinner, +until at last I heard that he had been spending a fortnight with +some semi-aristocratic acquaintance within five miles of me, and +during the whole of that time he never came near me. I met +him in a railway station soon afterwards, when he came up to me +effusive and apparently affectionate. “It was a real +grief to me, my dear fellow,” he said, “that I could +not call on you last month, but the truth was I was so driven: +they would make me go here and go there, and I kept putting off +my visit to you till it was too late.” Fortunately my +train was just starting, or I don’t know what might have +happened. I said not a word; shook hands with him; got into +the carriage; he waved his hat to me, and I pretended not to see +him, but I did see him, and saw him turn round immediately to +some well-dressed officer-like gentleman with whom he walked +laughing down the platform. The rest of that day was black +to me. I cared for nothing. I passed away from the +thought of Clem, and dwelt upon the conviction which had long +possessed me that I was <i>insignificant</i>, that there was +<i>nothing much in me</i>, and it was this which destroyed my +peace. We may reconcile ourselves to poverty and suffering, +but few of us can endure the conviction that there is <i>nothing +in us</i>, and that consequently we cannot expect anybody to +gravitate towards us with any forceful impulse. It is a +bitter experience. And yet there is consolation. The +universe is infinite. In the presence of its celestial +magnitudes who is there who is really great or small, and what is +the difference between you and me, my work and yours? I +sought refuge in the idea of GOD, the God of a starry night with +its incomprehensible distances; and I was at peace, content to be +the meanest worm of all the millions that crawl on the earth.</p> +<h2><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A NECESSARY DEVELOPMENT</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> few friends who have read the +first part of my autobiography may perhaps remember that in my +younger days I had engaged myself to a girl named Ellen, from +whom afterwards I parted. After some two or three years she +was left an orphan, and came into the possession of a small +property, over which unfortunately she had complete power. +She was attractive and well-educated, and I heard long after I +had broken with her, and had ceased to have intercourse with +Butts, that the two were married. He of course, living so +near her, had known her well, and he found her money +useful. How they agreed I knew not save by report, but I +was told that after the first child was born, the only child they +ever had, Butts grew indifferent to her, and that she, to use my +friend’s expression, “went off,” by which I +suppose he meant that she faded. There happened in those +days to live near Butts a small squire, married, but with no +family. He was a lethargic creature, about five-and-thirty +years old, farming eight hundred acres of his own land. He +did not, however, belong to the farming class. He had been +to Harrow, was on the magistrates’ bench, and associated +with the small aristocracy of the country round. He was +like every other squire whom I remember in my native county, and +I can remember scores of them. He read no books and +tolerated the usual conventional breaches of the moral law, but +was an intense worshipper of respectability, and hated a +scandal. On one point he differed from his +neighbours. He was a Whig and they were all Tories. I +have said he read no books, and this, on the whole, is true, but +nevertheless he did know something about the history of the early +part of the century, and he was rather fond at political +gatherings of making some allusion to Mr. Fox. His father +had sat in the House of Commons when Fox was there, and had +sternly opposed the French war. I don’t suppose that +anybody not actually <i>in it</i>—no Londoner +certainly—can understand the rigidity of the bonds which +restricted county society when I was young, and for aught I know +may restrict it now. There was with us one huge and dark +exception to the general uniformity. The earl had broken +loose, had ruined his estate, had defied decorum and openly lived +with strange women at home and in Paris, but this black +background did but set off the otherwise universal adhesion to +the Church and to authorised manners, an adhesion tempered and +rendered tolerable by port wine. It must not, however, be +supposed that human nature was different from the human nature of +to-day or a thousand years ago. There were then, even as +there were a thousand years ago, and are to-day, small, secret +doors, connected with mysterious staircases, by which access was +gained to freedom; and men and women, inmates of castles with +walls a yard thick, and impenetrable portcullises, sought those +doors and descended those stairs night and day. But nobody +knew, or if we did know, the silence was profound. The +broad-shouldered, yellow-haired Whig squire, had a wife who was +the opposite of him. She came from a distant part of the +country, and had been educated in France. She was small, +with black hair, and yet with blue eyes. She spoke French +perfectly, was devoted to music, read French books, and, although +she was a constant attendant at church, and gave no opportunity +whatever for the slightest suspicion, the matrons of the circle +in which she moved were never quite happy about her. This +was due partly to her knowledge of French, and partly to her +having no children. Anything more about her I do not +know. She was beyond us, and although I have seen her often +enough I never spoke to her. Butts, however, managed to +become a visitor at the squire’s house. Fancy +<i>my</i> going to the squire’s! But Butts did, was +accepted there, and even dined there with a parson, and two or +three half-pay officers. The squire never called on +Butts. That was an understood thing, nor did Mrs. Butts +accompany her husband. That also was an understood +thing. It was strange that Butts could tolerate and even +court such a relationship. Most men would scorn with the +scorn of a personal insult an invitation to a house from which +their wives were expressly excluded. The squire’s +lady and Clem became great friends. She discovered that his +mother was a Frenchwoman, and this was a bond between them. +She discovered also that Clem was artistic, that he was devotedly +fond of music, that he could draw a little, paint a little, and +she believed in the divine right of talent wherever it might be +found to assert a claim of equality with those who were better +born. The women in the country-side were shy of her; for +the men she could not possibly care, and no doubt she must at +times have got rather weary of her heavy husband with his one +outlook towards the universal in the person of George James Fox, +and the Whig policy of 1802. I am under some disadvantage +in telling this part of my story, because I was far away from +home, and only knew afterwards at second hand what the course of +events had been; but I learned them from one who was intimately +concerned, and I do not think I can be mistaken on any essential +point. I imagine that by this time Mrs. Butts must have +become changed into what she was in later years. She had +grown older since she and I had parted; she had seen trouble; her +child had been born, and although she was not exactly estranged +from Clem, for neither he nor she would have admitted any +coolness, she had learned that she was nothing specially to +him. I have often noticed what an imperceptible touch, what +a slight shifting in the balance of opposing forces, will alter +the character. I have observed a woman, for example, +essentially the same at twenty and thirty—who is there who +is not always essentially the same?—and yet, what was a +defect at twenty, has become transformed and transfigured into a +benignant virtue at thirty; translating the whole nature from the +human to the divine. Some slight depression has been +wrought here, and some slight lift has been given there, and +beauty and order have miraculously emerged from what was +chaotic. The same thing may continually be noticed in the +hereditary transmission of qualities. The redeeming virtue +of the father palpably present in the son becomes his curse, +through a faint diminution of the strength of the check which +caused that virtue to be the father’s salvation. The +propensity, too, which is a man’s evil genius, and leads +him to madness and utter ruin, gives vivid reality to all his +words and thoughts, and becomes all his strength, if by divine +assistance it can just be subdued and prevented from rising in +victorious insurrection. But this is a digression, useful, +however, in its way, because it will explain Mrs. Butts when we +come a little nearer to her in the future.</p> +<p>For a time Clem’s visits to the squire’s house +always took place when the squire was at home, but an amateur +concert was to be arranged in which Clem was to take part +together with the squire’s lady. Clem consequently +was obliged to go to the Hall for the purpose of practising, and +so it came to pass that he was there at unusual hours and when +the master was afield. These morning and afternoon calls +did not cease when the concert was over. Clem’s wife +did not know anything about them, and, if she noticed his +frequent absence, she was met with an excuse. Perhaps the +worst, or almost the worst effect of relationships which we do +not like to acknowledge, is the secrecy and equivocation which +they beget. From the very first moment when the intimacy +between the squire’s wife and Clem began to be anything +more than harmless, he was compelled to shuffle and to become +contemptible. At the same time I believe he defended +himself against himself with the weapons which were ever ready +when self rose against self because of some wrong-doing. He +was not as other men. It was absurd to class what he did +with what an ordinary person might do, although externally his +actions and those of the ordinary person might resemble one +another. I cannot trace the steps by which the two sinners +drew nearer and nearer together, for the simple reason that this +is an autobiography, and not a novel. I do not know what +the development was, nor did anybody except the person +concerned. Neither do I know what was the mental history of +Mrs. Butts during this unhappy period. She seldom talked +about it afterwards. I do, however, happen to recollect +hearing her once say that her greatest trouble was the cessation, +from some unknown cause, of Clem’s attempts—they were +never many—to interest and amuse her. It is easy to +understand how this should be. If a man is guilty of any +defection from himself, of anything of which he is ashamed, +everything which is better becomes a farce to him. After he +has been betrayed by some passion, how can he pretend to the +perfect enjoyment of what is pure? The moment he feels any +disposition to rise, he is stricken through as if with an arrow, +and he drops. Not until weeks, months, and even years have +elapsed, does he feel justified in surrendering himself to a +noble emotion. I have heard of persons who have been able +to ascend easily and instantaneously from the mud to the upper +air, and descend as easily; but to me at least they are +incomprehensible. Clem, less than most men, suffered +permanently, or indeed in any way from remorse, because he was so +shielded by his peculiar philosophy; but I can quite believe that +when he got into the habit of calling at the Hall at mid-day, his +behaviour to his wife changed.</p> +<p>One day in December the squire had gone out with the +hounds. Clem, going on from bad to worse, had now reached +the point of planning to be at the Hall when the squire was not +at home. On that particular afternoon Clem was there. +It was about half-past four o’clock, and the master was not +expected till six. There had been some music, the lady +accompanying, and Clem singing. It was over, and Clem, +sitting down beside her at the piano, and pointing out with his +right hand some passage which had troubled him, had placed his +left arm on her shoulder, and round her neck, she not +resisting. He always swore afterwards that never till then +had such a familiarity as this been permitted, and I believe that +he did not tell a lie. But what was there in that +familiarity? The worst was already there, and it was +through a mere accident that it never showed itself. The +accident was this. The squire, for some unknown reason, had +returned earlier than usual, and dismounting in the stable-yard, +had walked round the garden on the turf which came close to the +windows of the ground floor. Passing the drawing-room +window, and looking in by the edge of the drawn-down blind, he +saw his wife and Clem just at the moment described. He +slipped round to the door, took off his boots so that he might +not be heard, and as there was a large screen inside the room he +was able to enter it unobserved. Clem caught sight of him +just as he emerged from behind the screen, and started up +instantly in great confusion, the lady, with greater presence of +mind, remaining perfectly still. Without a word the squire +strode up to Clem, struck out at him, caught him just over the +temple, and felled him instantaneously. He lay for some +time senseless, and what passed between husband and wife I cannot +say. After about ten minutes, perhaps, Clem came to +himself; there was nobody to be seen; and he managed to get up +and crawl home. He told his wife he had met with an +accident; that he would go to bed, and that she should know all +about it when he was better. His forehead was dressed, and +to bed he went. That night Mrs. Butts had a letter. +It ran as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—It +may at first sight seem a harsh thing for me to write and tell +you what I have to say, but I can assure you I do not mean to be +anything but kind to you, and I think it will be better, for +reasons which I will afterwards explain, that I should +communicate with you rather than with your husband. For +some time past I have suspected that he was too fond of my wife, +and last night I caught him with his arms round her neck. +In a moment of not unjustifiable anger I knocked him down. +I have not the honour of knowing you personally, but from what I +have heard of you I am sure that he has not the slightest reason +for playing with other women. A man who will do what he has +done will be very likely to conceal from you the true cause of +his disaster, and if you know the cause you may perhaps be able +to reclaim him. If he has any sense of honour left in him, +and of what is due to you, he will seek your pardon for his +baseness, and you will have a hold on him afterwards which you +would not have if you were in ignorance of what has +happened. For him I do not care a straw, but for you I feel +deeply, and I believe that my frankness with you, although it may +cause you much suffering now, will save you more hereafter. +I have only one condition to make. Mr. Butts must leave +this place, and never let me see his face again. He has +ruined my peace. Nothing will be published through me, for, +as far as I can prevent it, I will have no public exposure. +If Mr. Butts were to remain here it would be dangerous for us to +meet, and probably everything, by some chance, would become +common property.—Believe me to be, Madam, with many +assurances of respect, truly yours,—.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I cannot distinguish the precise proportion of cruelty in this +letter. Did the writer designedly torture Butts by telling +his wife, or did he really think that she would in the end be +happier because Butts would not have a secret reserved from +her,—a temptation to lying—and because with this +secret in her possession, he might perhaps be restrained in +future? Nobody knows. All we know is that there are +very few human actions of which it can be said that this or that +taken by itself produced them. With our inborn tendency to +abstract, to separate mentally the concrete into factors which do +not exist separately, we are always disposed to assign causes +which are too simple, and which, in fact, have no being <i>in +rerum natura</i>. Nothing in nature is propelled or impeded +by one force acting alone. There is no such thing, save in +the brain of the mathematician. I see no reason why even +motives diametrically opposite should not unite in one resulting +deed, and think it very probable that the squire was both cruel +and merciful to the same person in the letter; influenced by +exactly conflicting passions, whose conflict ended <i>so</i>.</p> +<p>As to the squire and his wife, they lived together just as +before. I do not think, that, excepting the four persons +concerned, anybody ever heard a syllable about the affair, save +myself a long while afterwards. Clem, however, packed up +and left the town, after selling his business. He had a +reputation for restlessness; and his departure, although it was +sudden, was no surprise. He betook himself to Australia, +his wife going with him. I heard that they had gone, and +heard also that he was tired of school-keeping in England, and +had determined to try his fortune in another part of the +world. Our friendship had dwindled to nothing, and I +thought no more about him. Mrs. Butts never uttered one +word of reproach to her husband. I cannot say that she +loved him as she could have loved, but she had accepted him, and +she said to herself that as perhaps it was through her lack of +sympathy with him that he had strayed, it was her duty more and +more to draw him to herself. She had a divine disposition, +not infrequent amongst women, to seek in herself the reason for +any wrong which was done to her. That almost instinctive +tendency in men, to excuse, to transfer blame to others, to be +angry with somebody else when they suffer from the consequences +of their own misdeeds, in her did not exist.</p> +<p>During almost the whole of her married life, before this +affair between the squire and Clem, Mrs. Butts had had much +trouble, although her trouble was, perhaps, rather the absence of +joy than the presence of any poignant grief. She was much +by herself. She had never been a great reader, but in her +frequent solitude she was forced to do something in order to +obtain relief, and she naturally turned to the Bible. It +would be foolish to say that the Bible alone was to be credited +with the support she received. It may only have been the +occasion for a revelation of the strength that was in her. +Reading, however, under such circumstances, is likely to be +peculiarly profitable. It is never so profitable as when it +is undertaken in order that a positive need may be satisfied or +an inquiry answered. She discovered in the Bible much that +persons to whom it is a mere literature would never find. +The water of life was not merely admirable to the eye; she drank +it, and knew what a property it possessed for quenching +thirst. No doubt the thought of a heaven hereafter was +especially consolatory. She was able to endure, and even to +be happy because the vision of lengthening sorrow was bounded by +a better world beyond. “A very poor, barbarous +gospel,” thinks the philosopher who rests on his Marcus +Antoninus and Epictetus. I do not mean to say, that in the +shape in which she believed this doctrine, it was not poor and +barbarous, but yet we all of us, whatever our creed may be, must +lay hold at times for salvation upon something like it. +Those who have been plunged up to the very lips in affliction +know its necessity. To such as these it is idle work for +the prosperous and the comfortable to preach satisfaction with +the life that now is. There are seasons when it is our sole +resource to recollect that in a few short years we shall be at +rest. While upon this subject I may say, too, that some +injustice has been done to the Christian creed of immortality as +an influence in determining men’s conduct. Paul +preached the imminent advent of Christ and besought his +disciples, therefore, to watch, and we ask ourselves what is the +moral value to us of such an admonition. But surely if we +are to have any reasons for being virtuous, this is as good as +any other. It is just as respectable to believe that we +ought to abstain from iniquity because Christ is at hand, and we +expect to meet Him, as to abstain from it because by our +abstention we shall be healthier or more prosperous. Paul +had a dream—an absurd dream let us call it—of an +immediate millennium, and of the return of his Master surrounded +with divine splendour, judging mankind and adjusting the balance +between good and evil. It was a baseless dream, and the +enlightened may call it ridiculous. It is anything but +that, it is the very opposite of that. Putting aside its +temporary mode of expression, it is the hope and the prophecy of +all noble hearts, a sign of their inability to concur in the +present condition of things.</p> +<p>Going back to Clem’s wife; she laid hold, as I have +said, upon heaven. The thought wrought in her something +more than forgetfulness of pain or the expectation of +counterpoising bliss. We can understand what this something +was, for although we know no such heaven as hers, a new temper is +imparted to us, a new spirit breathed into us; I was about to say +a new hope bestowed upon us, when we consider that we live +surrounded by the soundless depths in which the stars +repose. Such a consideration has a direct practical effect +upon us, and so had the future upon the mind of Mrs. Butts. +“Why dost thou judge thy brother,” says Paul, +“for we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of +God.” Paul does not mean that God will punish him and +that we may rest satisfied that our enemy will be turned into +hell fire. Rather does he mean, what we, too, feel, that, +reflecting on the great idea of God, and upon all that it +involves, our animosities are softened, and our heat against our +brother is cooled.</p> +<p>One or two reflections may perhaps be permitted here on this +passage in Mrs. Butts’ history.</p> +<p>The fidelity of Clem’s wife to him, if not entirely due +to the New Testament, was in a great measure traceable to +it. She had learned from the Epistle to the Corinthians +that charity beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all +things, endureth all things; and she interpreted this to mean, +not merely charity to those whom she loved by nature, but charity +to those with whom she was not in sympathy, and who even wronged +her. Christianity no doubt does teach such a charity as +this, a love which is to be: independent of mere personal likes +and dislikes, a love of the human in man. The natural man, +the man of this century, uncontrolled by Christianity, considers +himself a model of what is virtuous and heroic if he really loves +his friends, and he permits all kinds of savage antipathies to +those of his fellow creatures with whom he is not in +harmony. Jesus on the other hand asks with His usual +perfect simplicity, “If ye love them which love you, what +reward have ye? Do not even the publicans the +same?” It would be a great step in advance for most +of us to love anybody, and the publicans of the time of Jesus +must have been a much more Christian set than most Christians of +the present day; but that we should love those who do not love us +is a height never scaled now, except by a few of the elect in +whom Christ still survives. In the gospel of Luke, also, +Mrs. Butts read that she was to hope for nothing again from her +love, and that she was to be merciful, as her Father in heaven is +merciful. That is really the expression of the <i>idea</i> +in morality, and incalculable is the blessing that our great +religious teacher should have been bold enough to teach the idea, +and not any limitation of it. He always taught it, the +inward born, the heavenly law towards which everything +strives. He always trusted it; He did not deal in +exceptions; He relied on it to the uttermost, never +despairing. This has always seemed to me to be the real +meaning of the word faith. It is permanent confidence in +the idea, a confidence never to be broken down by apparent +failure, or by examples by which ordinary people prove that +qualification is necessary. It was precisely because Jesus +taught the idea, and nothing below it, that He had such authority +over a soul like my friend’s, and the effect produced by +Him could not have been produced by anybody nearer to ordinary +humanity.</p> +<p>It must be admitted, too, that the Calvinism of those days had +a powerful influence in enabling men and women to endure, +although I object to giving the name of Calvin to a philosophy +which is a necessity in all ages. “Are not two +sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on +the ground without your Father.” This is the last +word which can be said. Nothing can go beyond it, and at +times it is the only ground which we feel does not shake under +our feet. All life is summed up, and due account is taken +of it, according to its degree. Mrs. Butts’ +Calvinism, however, hardly took the usual dogmatic form. +She was too simple to penetrate the depths of metaphysical +theology, and she never would have dared to set down any of her +fellow creatures as irrevocably lost. She adapted the +Calvinistic creed to something which suited her. For +example, she fully understood what St. Paul means when he tells +the Thessalonians that <i>because</i> they were called, +<i>therefore</i> they were to stand fast. She thought with +Paul that being called; having a duty plainly laid upon her; +being bidden as if by a general to do something, she <i>ought</i> +to stand fast; and she stood fast, supported against all pressure +by the consciousness of fulfilling the special orders of One who +was her superior. There is no doubt that this dogma of a +personal calling is a great consolation, and it is a great +truth. Looking at the masses of humanity, driven this way +and that way, the Christian teaching is apt to be forgotten that +for each individual soul there is a vocation as real as if that +soul were alone upon the planet. Yet it is a fact. We +are blinded to it and can hardly believe it, because of the +impotency of our little intellects to conceive a destiny which +shall take care of every atom of life on the globe: we are +compelled to think that in such vast crowds of people as we +behold, individuals must elude the eye of the Maker, and be swept +into forgetfulness. But the truth of truths is that the +mind of the universe is not our mind, or at any rate controlled +by our limitations.</p> +<p>This has been a long digression which I did not intend; but I +could not help it. I was anxious to show how Mrs. Butts met +her trouble through her religion. The apostle says that +“<i>they drank of that spiritual Rock which followed +them</i>, <i>and that Rock was Christ</i>.” That was +true of her. The way through the desert was not +annihilated; the path remained stony and sore to the feet, but it +was accompanied to the end by a sweet stream to which she could +turn aside, and from which she could obtain refreshment and +strength.</p> +<p>Just about the time that we began our meetings near Drury +Lane, I heard that Clem was dead; that he had died abroad. +I knew nothing more; I thought about him and his wife perhaps for +a day, but I had parted from both long ago, and I went on with my +work.</p> +<h2><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +81</span>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WHAT IT ALL CAME TO</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> two years or thereabouts, +M’Kay and myself continued our labours in the Drury Lane +neighbourhood. There is a proverb that it is the first step +which is the most difficult in the achievement of any object, and +the proverb has been altered by ascribing the main part of the +difficulty to the last step. Neither the first nor the last +has been the difficult step with me, but rather what lies +between. The first is usually helped by the excitement and +the promise of new beginnings, and the last by the prospect of +triumph; but the intermediate path is unassisted by enthusiasm, +and it is here we are so likely to faint. M’Kay +nevertheless persevered, supporting me, who otherwise might have +been tempted to despair, and at the end of the two years we were +still at our posts. We had, however, learned +something. We had learned that we could not make the +slightest impression on Drury Lane proper. Now and then an +idler, or sometimes a dozen, lounged in, but what was said was +strange to them; they were out of their own world as completely +as if they were in another planet, and all our efforts to reach +them by simplicity of statement and by talking about things which +we supposed would interest them utterly failed. I did not +know, till I came in actual contact with them, how far away the +classes which lie at the bottom of great cities are from those +above them; how completely they are inaccessible to motives which +act upon ordinary human beings, and how deeply they are sunk +beyond ray of sun or stars, immersed in the selfishness naturally +begotten of their incessant struggle for existence and the +incessant warfare with society. It was an awful thought to +me, ever present on those Sundays, and haunting me at other +times, that men, women, and children were living in such brutish +degradation, and that as they died others would take their +place. Our civilisation seemed nothing but a thin film or +crust lying over a volcanic pit, and I often wondered whether +some day the pit would not break up through it and destroy us +all. Great towns are answerable for the creation and +maintenance of the masses of dark, impenetrable, subterranean +blackguardism, with which we became acquainted. The filthy +gloom of the sky, the dirt of the street, the absence of fresh +air, the herding of the poor into huge districts which cannot be +opened up by those who would do good, are tremendous agencies of +corruption which are active at such a rate that it is appalling +to reflect what our future will be if the accumulation of +population be not checked. To stand face to face with the +insoluble is not pleasant. A man will do anything rather +than confess it is beyond him. He will create pleasant +fictions, and fancy a possible escape here and there, but this +problem of Drury Lane was round and hard like a ball of +adamant. The only thing I could do was faintly, and I was +about to say stupidly, hope—for I had no rational, tangible +grounds for hoping—that some force of which we are not now +aware might some day develop itself which will be able to resist +and remove the pressure which sweeps and crushes into a hell, +sealed from the upper air, millions of human souls every year in +one quarter of the globe alone.</p> +<p>M’Kay’s dreams therefore were not realised, and +yet it would be a mistake to say that they ended in +nothing. It often happens that a grand attempt, although it +may fail—miserably fail—is fruitful in the end and +leaves a result, not the hoped for result it is true, but one +which would never have been attained without it. A youth +strives after the impossible, and he is apt to break his heart +because he has never even touched it, but nevertheless his whole +life is the sweeter for the striving; and the archer who aims at +a mark a hundred yards away will send his arrow further than he +who sets his bow and his arm for fifty yards. So it was +with M’Kay. He did not convert Drury Lane, but he +saved two or three. One man whom we came to know was a +labourer in Somerset House, a kind of coal porter employed in +carrying coals into the offices there from the cellars below, and +in other menial duties. He had about fifteen or sixteen +shillings a week, and as the coals must necessarily be in the +different rooms before ten o’clock in the morning, he began +work early, and was obliged to live within an easy distance of +the Strand. This man had originally been a small tradesman +in a country town. He was honest, but he never could or +never would push his trade in any way. He was fond of all +kinds of little mechanical contrivings, disliked his shop, and +ought to have been a carpenter or cabinet-maker—not as a +master but as a journeyman, for he had no ability whatever to +control men or direct large operations. He was married, and +a sense of duty to his wife—he fortunately had no +children—induced him to stand or sit behind his counter +with regularity, but people would not come to buy of him, because +he never seemed to consider their buying as any favour conferred +on him; and thus he became gradually displaced by his more +energetic or more obsequious rivals. In the end he was +obliged to put up his shutters. Unhappily for him, he had +never been a very ardent attendant at any of the places of +religious worship in the town, and he had therefore no +organisation to help him. Not being master of any craft, he +was in a pitiable plight, and was slowly sinking, when he applied +to the solicitor of the political party for which he had always +voted to assist him. The solicitor applied to the member, +and the member, much regretting the difficulty of obtaining +places for grown-up men, and explaining the pressure upon the +Treasury, wrote to say that the only post at his disposal was +that of labourer. He would have liked to offer a +messengership, but the Treasury had hundreds of applications from +great people who wished to dispose of favourite footmen whose +services they no longer required. Our friend Taylor had by +this time been brought very low, or he would have held out for +something better, but there was nothing to be done. He was +starving, and he therefore accepted; came to London; got a room, +one room only, near Clare Market, and began his new duties. +He was able to pick up a shilling or two more weekly by going on +errands for the clerks during his slack time in the day, so that +altogether on the average he made up about eighteen +shillings. Wandering about the Clare Market region on +Sunday he found us out, came in, and remained constant. +Naturally, as we had so few adherents, we gradually knew these +few very intimately, and Taylor would often spend a holiday or +part of the Sunday with us. He was not eminent for anything +in particular, and an educated man, selecting as his friends +those only who stand for something, would not have taken the +slightest notice of him. He had read nothing particular, +and thought nothing particular—he was indeed one of the +masses—but in this respect different, that he had not the +tendency to association, aggregation, or clanship which belong to +the masses generally. He was different, of course, in all +his ways from his neighbours born and bred to Clare Market and +its alleys. Although commonplace, he had demands made upon +him for an endurance by no means commonplace, and he had sorrows +which were as exquisite as those of his betters. He did not +much resent his poverty. To that I think he would have +submitted, and in fact he did submit to it cheerfully. What +rankled in him was the brutal disregard of him at the +office. He was a servant of servants. The messengers, +who themselves were exposed to all the petty tyrannies of the +clerks, and dared not reply, were Taylor’s masters, and +sought a compensation for their own serfdom by making his ten +times worse. The head messenger, who had been a butler, +swore at him, and if Taylor had “answered” he would +have been reported. He had never been a person of much +importance, but at least he had been independent, and it was a +new experience for him to feel that he was a thing fit for +nothing but to be cuffed and cursed. Upon this point he +used to get eloquent—as eloquent as he could be, for he had +small power of expression, and he would describe to me the +despair which came over him down in those dark vaults at the +prospect of life continuing after this fashion, and with not the +minutest gleam of light even at the very end. Nobody ever +cared to know the most ordinary facts about him. Nobody +inquired whether he was married or single; nobody troubled +himself when he was ill. If he was away, his pay was +stopped; and when he returned to work nobody asked if he was +better. Who can wonder that at first, when he was an utter +stranger in a strange land, he was overcome by the situation, and +that the world was to him a dungeon worse than that of +Chillon? Who can wonder that he was becoming +reckless? A little more of such a life would have +transformed him into a brute. He had not the ability to +become revolutionary, or it would have made him a +conspirator. Suffering of any kind is hard to bear, but the +suffering which especially damages character is that which is +caused by the neglect or oppression of man. At any rate it +was so in Taylor’s case. I believe that he would have +been patient under any inevitable ordinance of nature, but he +could not lie still under contempt, the knowledge that to those +about him he was of less consequence than the mud under their +feet. He was timid and, after his failure as a shopkeeper, +and the near approach to the workhouse, he dreaded above +everything being again cast adrift. Strange conflict arose +in him, for the insults to which he was exposed drove him almost +to madness; and yet the dread of dismissal in a moment checked +him when he was about to “fire up,” as he called it, +and reduced him to a silence which was torture. Once he was +ordered to bring some coals for the messenger’s +lobby. The man who gave him the order, finding that he was +a long time bringing them, went to the top of the stairs, and +bawled after him with an oath to make haste. The reason of +the delay was that Taylor had two loads to bring up—one for +somebody else. When he got to the top of the steps, the +messenger with another oath took the coals, and saying that he +“would teach him to skulk there again,” kicked the +other coal-scuttle down to the bottom. Taylor himself told +me this; and yet, although he would have rejoiced if the man had +dropped down dead, and would willingly have shot him, he was +dumb. The check operated in an instant. He saw +himself without a penny, and in the streets. He went down +into the cellar, and raged and wept for an hour. Had he +been a workman, he would probably have throttled his enemy, or +tried to do it, or what is more likely, his enemy would not have +dared to treat him in such fashion, but he was powerless, and +once losing his situation he would have sunk down into the +gutter, whence he would have been swept by the parish into the +indiscriminate heap of London pauperism, and carted away to the +Union, a conclusion which was worse to him than being hung.</p> +<p>Another of our friends was a waiter in one of the +public-houses and chop-houses combined, of which there are so +many in the Strand. He lived in a wretched alley which ran +from St. Clement’s Church to Boswell Court—I have +forgotten its name—a dark crowded passage. He was a +man of about sixty—invariably called John, without the +addition of any surname. I knew him long before we opened +our room, for I was in the habit of frequently visiting the +chop-house in which he served. His hours were +incredible. He began at nine o’clock in the morning +with sweeping the dining-room, cleaning the tables and the gas +globes, and at twelve business commenced with early +luncheons. Not till three-quarters of an hour after +midnight could he leave, for the house was much used by persons +who supped there after the theatres. During almost the +whole of this time he was on his legs, and very often he was +unable to find two minutes in the day in which to get his +dinner. Sundays, however, were free. John was not a +head waiter, but merely a subordinate, and I never knew why at +his time of life he had not risen to a better position. He +used to say that “things had been against him,” and I +had no right to seek for further explanations. He was +married, and had had three children, of whom one only was +living—a boy of ten years old, whom he hoped to get into +the public-house as a potboy for a beginning. Like Taylor, +the world had well-nigh overpowered John entirely—crushed +him out of all shape, so that what he was originally, or might +have been, it was almost impossible to tell. There was no +particular character left in him. He may once have been +this or that, but every angle now was knocked off, as it is +knocked off from the rounded pebbles which for ages have been +dragged up and down the beach by the waves. For a lifetime +he had been exposed to all sorts of whims and caprices, generally +speaking of the most unreasonable kind, and he had become so +trained to take everything without remonstrance or murmuring that +every cross in his life came to him as a chop alleged by an +irritated customer to be raw or done to a cinder. Poor +wretch! he had one trouble, however, which he could not accept +with such equanimity, or rather with such indifference. His +wife was a drunkard. This was an awful trial to him. +The worst consequence was that his boy knew that his mother got +drunk. The neighbours kindly enough volunteered to look +after the little man when he was not at school, and they waylaid +him and gave him dinner when his mother was intoxicated; but +frequently he was the first when he returned to find out that +there was nothing for him to eat, and many a time he got up at +night as late as twelve o’clock, crawled downstairs, and +went off to his father to tell him that “she was very bad, +and he could not go to sleep.” The father, then, had +to keep his son in the Strand till it was time to close, take him +back, and manage in the best way he could. Over and over +again was he obliged to sit by this wretched woman’s +bedside till breakfast time, and then had to go to work as +usual. Let anybody who has seen a case of this kind say +whether the State ought not to provide for the relief of such men +as John, and whether he ought not to have been able to send his +wife away to some institution where she might have been tended +and restrained from destroying, not merely herself, but her +husband and her child. John hardly bore up under this +sorrow. A man may endure much, provided he knows that he +will be well supported when his day’s toil is over; but if +the help for which he looks fails, he falls. Oh those weary +days in that dark back dining-room, from which not a square inch +of sky was visible! weary days haunted by a fear that while he +was there unknown mischief was being done! weary days, whose +close nevertheless he dreaded! Beaten down, baffled, +disappointed, if we are in tolerable health we can contrive to +live on some almost impossible chance, some most distant flicker +of hope. It is astonishing how minute a crack in the heavy +uniform cloud will relieve us; but when with all our searching we +can see nothing, then at last we sink. Such was +John’s case when I first came to know him. He +attracted me rather, and bit by bit he confided his story to +me. He found out that I might be trusted, and that I could +sympathise, and he told me what he had never told to anybody +before. I was curious to discover whether religion had done +anything for him, and I put the question to him in an indirect +way. His answer was that “some on ’em say +there’s a better world where everything will be put right, +but somehow it seemed too good to be true.” That was +his reason for disbelief, and heaven had not the slightest effect +on him. He found out the room, and was one of our most +constant friends.</p> +<p>Another friend was of a totally different type. His name +was Cardinal. He was a Yorkshireman, broad-shouldered, +ruddy in the face, short-necked, inclined apparently to apoplexy, +and certainly to passion. He was a commercial traveller in +the cloth trade, and as he had the southern counties for his +district, London was his home when he was not upon his +journeys. His wife was a curious contrast to him. She +was dark-haired, pinched-up, thin-lipped, and always seemed as if +she suffered from some chronic pain or gnawing—not +sufficient to make her ill, but sufficient to make her +miserable. They had no children. Cardinal in early +life had been a member of an orthodox Dissenting congregation, +but he had fallen away. He had nobody to guide him, and the +position into which he fell was peculiar. He never busied +himself about religion or philosophy; indeed he had had no +training which would have led him to take an interest in abstract +questions, but he read all kinds of romances and poetry without +any order and upon no system. He had no discriminating +faculty, and mixed up together the most heterogeneous mass of +trumpery novels, French translations, and the best English +authors, provided only they were unworldly or sentimental. +Neither did he know how far to take what he read and use it in +his daily life. He often selected some fantastical motive +which he had found set forth as operative in one of his heroes, +and he brought it into his business, much to the astonishment of +his masters and customers. For this reason he was not +stable. He changed employers two or three times; and, so +far as I could make out, his ground of objection to each of the +firms whom he left might have been a ground of dislike in a girl +to a suitor, but certainly nothing more. During the +intervals of his engagements, unless he was pressed for money, he +did nothing—not from laziness, but because he had got a +notion in his head that his mind wanted rest and +reinvigoration. His habit then was to consume the whole +day—day after day—in reading or in walking out by +himself. It may easily be supposed that with a temperament +like his, and with nobody near him to take him by the hand, he +made great mistakes. His wife and he cared nothing for one +another, but she was jealous to the last degree. I never +saw such jealousy. It was strange that, although she almost +hated him, she watched him with feline sharpness and patience, +and would even have killed any woman whom she knew had won his +affection. He, on the other hand, openly avowed that +marriage without love was nothing, and flaunted without the least +modification the most ideal theories as to the relation between +man and woman. Not that he ever went actually wrong. +His boyish education, his natural purity, and a fear never wholly +suppressed, restrained him. He exasperated people by his +impracticability, and it must be acknowledged that it is very +irritating in a difficult complexity demanding the gravest +consideration—the balancing of this against that—to +hear a man suddenly propose some naked principle with which +everybody is acquainted, and decide by it solely. I came to +know him through M’Kay, who had known him for years; but +M’Kay at last broke out against him, and called him a +stupid fool when he threw up a handsome salary and refused to +serve any longer under a house which had always treated him well, +because they, moving with the times, had determined to offer +their customers a cheaper description of goods, which Cardinal +thought was dishonest. M’Kay said, and said truly, +that many poor persons would buy these goods who could buy +nothing else, and that Cardinal, before yielding to such +scruples, ought to satisfy himself that, by yielding, he would +not become a burden upon others less fanciful. This was +just what happened. Cardinal could get no work again for a +long time, and had to borrow money. I was sorry; but for my +part, this and other eccentricities did not disturb my confidence +in him. He was an honest, affectionate soul, and his +peculiarities were a necessary result of the total chaos of a +time without any moral guidance. With no church, no +philosophy, no religion, the wonder is that anybody on whom use +and wont relax their hold should ever do anything more than +blindly rove hither and thither, arriving at nothing. +Cardinal was adrift, like thousands and hundreds of thousands of +others, and amidst the storm and pitchy darkness of the night, +thousands and hundreds of thousands of voices offer us +pilotage. It spoke well for him that he did nothing worse +than take a few useless phantoms on board which did him no harm, +and that he held fast to his own instinct for truth and +goodness. I never let myself be annoyed by what he produced +to me from his books. All that I discarded. +Underneath all that was a solid worth which I loved, and which +was mostly not vocal. What was vocal in him was, I am bound +to say, not of much value.</p> +<p>About the time when our room opened, Mrs. Cardinal had become +almost insupportable to her husband. Poor woman; I always +pitied her; she was alone sometimes for a fortnight at a stretch; +she read nothing; there was no child to occupy her thoughts; she +knew that her husband lived in a world into which she never +entered, and she had nothing to do but to brood over imaginary +infidelities. She was literally possessed, and who shall be +hard upon her? Nobody cared for her; everybody with whom +her husband associated disliked her, and she knew perfectly well +they never asked her to their houses except for his sake. +Cardinal vowed at last he would endure her no longer, and that +they must separate. He was induced one Sunday morning, when +his resolution was strong within him, and he was just about to +give effect to it, to come with us. The quiet seemed to +soothe him, and he went home with me afterwards. He was not +slow to disclose to me his miserable condition, and his resolve +to change it. I do not know now what I said, but it +appeared to me that he ought not to change it, and that change +would be for him most perilous. I thought that with a +little care life might become at least bearable with his wife; +that by treating her not so much as if she were criminal, but as +if she were diseased, hatred might pass into pity, and pity into +merciful tenderness to her, and that they might dwell together +upon terms not harder than those upon which many persons who have +made mistakes in youth agree to remain with each other; terms +which, after much consideration, they adjudge it better to accept +than to break loose, and bring upon themselves and those +connected with them all that open rupture involves. The +difficulty was to get Cardinal to give up his theory of what two +abstract human beings should do between whom no love +exists. It seemed to him something like atheism to forsake +his clearly-discerned, simple rule for a course which was +dictated by no easily-grasped higher law, and it was very +difficult to persuade him that there is anything of equal +authority in a law less rigid in its outline. However, he +went home. I called on him some time afterwards, and saw +that a peace, or at any rate a truce, was proclaimed, which +lasted up to the day of his death. M’Kay and I agreed +to make as much of Mrs. Cardinal as we could, and yielding to +urgent invitation, she came to the room. This wonderfully +helped to heal her. She began to feel that she was not +overlooked, put on one side, or despised, and the bonds which +bound her constricted lips into bitterness were loosened.</p> +<p>Another friend, and the last whom I shall name, was a young +man named Clark. He was lame, and had been so from +childhood. His father was a tradesman, working hard from +early morning till late at night, and burdened with a number of +children. The boy Richard, shut out from the companionship +of his fellows, had a great love of books. When he left +school his father did not know what to do with him—in fact +there was only one occupation open to him, and that was clerical +work of one kind or another. At last he got a place in a +house in Fleet Street, which did a large business in those days +in sending newspapers into the country. His whole +occupation all day long was to write addresses, and for this he +received twenty-five shillings a week, his hours being from nine +o’clock till seven. The office in which he sat was +crowded, and in order to squeeze the staff into the smallest +space, rent being dear, a gallery had been run round the wall +about four feet from the ceiling. This was provided with +desks and gas lamps, and up there Clark sat, artificial light +being necessary four days out of five. He came straight +from the town in which his father lived to Fleet Street, and once +settled in it there seemed no chance of change for the +better. He knew what his father’s struggles were; he +could not go back to him, and he had not the energy to attempt to +lift himself. It is very doubtful too whether he could have +succeeded in achieving any improvement, whatever his energy might +have been. He had got lodgings in Newcastle Street, and to +these he returned in the evening, remaining there alone with his +little library, and seldom moving out of doors. He was +unhealthy constitutionally, and his habits contributed to make +him more so. Everything which he saw which was good seemed +only to sharpen the contrast between himself and his lot, and his +reading was a curse to him rather than a blessing. I +sometimes wished that he had never inherited any love whatever +for what is usually considered to be the Best, and that he had +been endowed with an organisation coarse and commonplace, like +that of his colleagues. If he went into company which +suited him, or read anything which interested him, it seemed as +if the ten hours of the gallery in Fleet Street had been made +thereby only the more insupportable, and his habitual mood was +one of despondency, so that his fellow clerks who knew his tastes +not unnaturally asked what was the use of them if they only made +him wretched; and they were more than ever convinced that in +their amusements lay true happiness. Habit, which is the +saviour of most of us, the opiate which dulls the otherwise +unbearable miseries of life, only served to make Clark more +sensitive. The monotony of that perpetual address-copying +was terrible. He has told me with a kind of shame what an +effect it had upon him—that sometimes for days he would +feed upon the prospect of the most childish trifle because it +would break in some slight degree the uniformity of his +toil. For example, he would sometimes change from quill to +steel pens and back again, and he found himself actually looking +forward with a kind of joy—merely because of the +variation—to the day on which he had fixed to go back to +the quill after using steel. He would determine, two or +three days beforehand, to get up earlier, and to walk to Fleet +Street by way of Great Queen Street and Lincoln’s Inn +Fields, and upon this he would subsist till the day came. +He could make no longer excursions because of his lameness. +All this may sound very much like simple silliness to most +people, but those who have not been bound to a wheel do not know +what thoughts come into the head of the strongest man who is +extended on it. Clark sat side by side in his gallery with +other young men of rather a degraded type, and the confinement +bred in them a filthy grossness with which they tormented +him. They excited in him loathsome images, from which he +could not free himself either by day or night. He was +peculiarly weak in his inability to cast off impressions, or to +get rid of mental pictures when once formed, and his distress at +being haunted by these hateful, disgusting thoughts was +pitiable. They were in fact almost more than thoughts, they +were transportations out of himself—real visions. It +would have been his salvation if he could have been a carpenter +or a bricklayer, in country air, but this could not be.</p> +<p>Clark had no power to think connectedly to a conclusion. +When an idea came into his head, he dwelt upon it incessantly, +and no correction of the false path upon which it set him was +possible, because he avoided society. Work over, he was so +sick of people that he went back to himself. So it came to +pass that when brought into company, what he believed and +cherished was frequently found to be open to obvious objection, +and was often nothing better than nonsense which was rudely, and +as he himself was forced to admit, justly overthrown. He +ought to have been surrounded with intelligent friends, who would +have enabled him to see continually the other side, and who would +have prevented his long and useless wanderings. Like many +other persons, too, whom I have known—just in proportion to +his lack of penetrative power was his tendency to occupy himself +with difficult questions. By a cruel destiny he was +impelled to dabble in matters for which he was totally +unfitted. He never could go beyond his author a single +step, and he lost himself in endless mazes. If he could but +have been persuaded to content himself with sweet presentations +of wholesome happy existence, with stories and with history, how +much better it would have been for him! He had had no +proper training whatever for anything more, he was ignorant of +the exact meaning of the proper terminology of science, and an +unlucky day it was for him when he picked up on a bookstall some +very early translation of some German book on philosophy. +One reason, as may be conjectured, for his mistakes was his +education in dissenting Calvinism, a religion which is entirely +metaphysical, and encourages, unhappily, in everybody a taste for +tremendous problems. So long as Calvinism is unshaken, the +mischief is often not obvious, because a ready solution taken on +trust is provided; but when doubts arise, the evil results become +apparent, and the poor helpless victim, totally at a loss, is +torn first in this direction and then in the other, and cannot +let these questions alone. He has been taught to believe +they are connected with salvation, and he is compelled still to +busy himself with them, rather than with simple external +piety.</p> +<h2><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +103</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">DRURY LANE THEOLOGY</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Such</span> were some of our +disciples. I do not think that church or chapel would have +done them much good. Preachers are like unskilled doctors +with the same pill and draught for every complaint. They do +not know where the fatal spot lies on lung or heart or nerve +which robs us of life. If any of these persons just +described had gone to church or chapel they would have heard +discourses on the usual set topics, none of which would have +concerned them. Their trouble was not the forgiveness of +sins, the fallacies of Arianism, the personality of the Holy +Ghost, or the doctrine of the Eucharist. They all +<i>wanted</i> something distinctly. They had great gaping +needs which they longed to satisfy, intensely practical and +special. Some of these necessities no words could in any +way meet. It was obvious, for instance, that Clark must at +once be taken away from his gallery and his copying if he was to +live—at least in sanity. He had fortunately learned +shorthand, and M’Kay got him employment on a +newspaper. His knowledge of his art was by no means perfect +at first, but he was sent to attend meetings where +<i>verbatim</i> reports were not necessary, and he quickly +advanced. Taylor, too, we tried to remove, and we succeeded +in attaching him to a large club as an out-of-doors porter. +The poor man was now at least in the open air, and freed from +insolent tyranny. This, however, was help such as anybody +might have given. The question of most importance is, What +gospel had we to give? Why, in short, did we meet on the +Sunday? What was our justification? In the first +place, there was the simple quietude. The retreat from the +streets and from miserable cares into a place where there was +peace and room for reflection was something. It is all very +well for cultivated persons with libraries to scoff at religious +services. To the poor the cathedral or the church might be +an immense benefit, if only for the reason that they present a +barrier to worldly noise, and are a distinct invitation by +architecture and symbolic decoration to meditation on something +beyond the business which presses on them during the week. +Poor people frequently cannot read for want of a place in which +to read. Moreover, they require to be provoked by a +stronger stimulus than that of a book. They willingly hear +a man talk if he has anything to say, when they would not care to +look at what he said if it were printed. But to come more +closely to the point. Our main object was to create in our +hearers contentment with their lot; and even some joy in +it. That was our religion; that was the central thought of +all we said and did, giving shape and tendency to +everything. We admitted nothing which did not help us in +that direction, and everything which did help us. Our +attempts, to any one who had not the key, may have seemed vague +and desultory. We might by a stranger have been accused of +feeble wandering, of idle dabbling, now in this subject and now +in that, but after a while he would have found that though we +were weak creatures, with no pretence to special knowledge in any +subject, we at least knew what we meant, and tried to accomplish +it. For my own part, I was happy when I had struck that +path. I felt as if somehow, after many errors, I had once +more gained a road, a religion in fact, and one which essentially +was not new but old, the religion of the Reconciliation, the +reconciliation of man with God; differing from the current creed +in so far as I did not lay stress upon sin as the cause of +estrangement, but yet agreeing with it in making it my duty of +duties to suppress revolt, and to submit calmly and sometimes +cheerfully to the Creator. This surely, under a thousand +disguises, has been the meaning of all the forms of worship which +we have seen in the world. Pain and death are nothing new, +and men have been driven into perplexed scepticism, and even +insurrection by them, ever since men came into being. +Always, however, have the majority, the vast majority of the +race, felt instinctively that in this scepticism and insurrection +they could not abide, and they have struggled more or less +blindly after explanation; determined not to desist till they had +found it, and reaching a result embodied in a multitude of shapes +irrational and absurd to the superficial scoffer, but of profound +interest to the thoughtful. I may observe, in passing, that +this is a reason why all great religions should be treated with +respect, and in a certain sense preserved. It is nothing +less than a wicked waste of accumulated human strivings to sneer +them out of existence. They will be found, every one of +them, to have incarnated certain vital doctrines which it has +cost centuries of toil and devotion properly to appreciate. +Especially is this true of the Catholic faith, and if it were +worth while, it might be shown how it is nothing less than a +divine casket of precious remedies, and if it is to be brutally +broken, it will take ages to rediscover and restore them. +Of one thing I am certain, that their rediscovery and restoration +will be necessary. I cannot too earnestly insist upon the +need of our holding, each man for himself, by some faith which +shall anchor him. It must not be taken up by chance. +We must fight for it, for only so will it become <i>our</i> +faith. The halt in indifference or in hostility is easy +enough and seductive enough. The half-hearted thinks that +when he has attained that stage he has completed the term of +human wisdom. I say go on: do not stay there; do not take +it for granted that there is nothing beyond; incessantly attempt +an advance, and at last a light, dim it may be, will arise. +It will not be a completed system, perfect in all points, an +answer to all our questions, but at least it will give ground for +hope.</p> +<p>We had to face the trials of our friends, and we had to face +death. I do not say for an instant that we had any +effectual reply to these great arguments against us. We +never so much as sought for one, knowing how all men had sought +and failed. But we were able to say there is some +compensation, that there is another side, and this is all that +man can say. No theory of the world is possible. The +storm, the rain slowly rotting the harvest, children sickening in +cellars are obvious; but equally obvious are an evening in June, +the delight of men and women in one another, in music, and in the +exercise of thought. There can surely be no question that +the sum of satisfaction is increasing, not merely in the gross +but for each human being, as the earth from which we sprang is +being worked out of the race, and a higher type is being +developed. I may observe, too, that although it is usually +supposed, it is erroneously supposed, that it is pure doubt which +disturbs or depresses us. Simple suspense is in fact very +rare, for there are few persons so constituted as to be able to +remain in it. It is dogmatism under the cloak of doubt +which pulls us down. It is the dogmatism of death, for +example, which we have to avoid. The open grave is +dogmatic, and we say <i>that man has gone</i>, but this is as +much a transgression of the limits of certitude as if we were to +say <i>he is an angel in bliss</i>. The proper attitude, +the attitude enjoined by the severest exercise of the reason is, +<i>I do not know</i>; and in this there is an element of hope, +now rising and now falling, but always sufficient to prevent that +blank despair which we must feel if we consider it as settled +that when we lie down under the grass there is an absolute +end.</p> +<p>The provision in nature of infinity ever present to us is an +immense help. No man can look up to the stars at night and +reflect upon what lies behind them without feeling that the +tyranny of the senses is loosened, and the tyranny, too, of the +conclusions of his logic. The beyond and the beyond, let us +turn it over as we may, let us consider it as a child considers +it, or by the light of the newest philosophy, is a constant, +visible warning not to make our minds the measure of the +universe. Underneath the stars what dreams, what +conjectures arise, shadowy enough, it is true; but one thing we +cannot help believing as irresistibly as if by geometrical +deduction—that the sphere of that understanding of ours, +whose function it seems to be to imprison us, is limited.</p> +<p>Going through a churchyard one afternoon I noticed that nearly +all the people who were buried there, if the inscriptions on the +tombstones might be taken to represent the thoughts of the +departed when they were alive, had been intent solely on their +own personal salvation. The question with them all seemed +to have been, shall <i>I</i> go to heaven? Considering the +tremendous difference between heaven and hell in the popular +imagination, it was very natural that these poor creatures should +be anxious above everything to know whether they would be in hell +or heaven for ever. Surely, however, this is not the +highest frame of mind, nor is it one to be encouraged. I +would rather do all I can to get out of it, and to draw others +out of it too. Our aim ought not so much to be the +salvation of this poor petty self, but of that in me which alone +makes it worth while to save me; of that alone which I hope will +be saved, immortal truth. The very centre of the existence +of the ordinary chapel-goer and church-goer needs to be shifted +from self to what is outside self, and yet is truly self, and the +sole truth of self. If the truth lives, <i>we</i> live, and +if it dies, we are dead. Our theology stands in need of a +reformation greater than that of Luther’s. It may be +said that the attempt to replace the care for self in us by a +care for the universal is ridiculous. Man cannot rise to +that height. I do not believe it. I believe we can +rise to it. Every ordinary unselfish act is a proof of the +capacity to rise to it; and the mother’s denial of all care +for her own happiness, if she can but make her child happy, is a +sublime anticipation. It may be called an instinct, but in +the course of time it will be possible to develop a wider +instinct in us, so that our love for the truth shall be even +maternally passionate and self-forgetting.</p> +<p>After all our searching it was difficult to find anything +which, in the case of a man like John the waiter, for example, +could be of any service to him. At his age efficient help +was beyond us, and in his case the problem presented itself in +its simple nakedness. What comfort is there discoverable +for the wretched which is not based upon illusion? We could +not tell him that all he endured was right and proper. But +even to him we were able to offer something. We did all we +could to soothe him. On the Sunday, at least, he was able +to find some relief from his labours, and he entered into a +different region. He came to see us in the afternoon and +evening occasionally, and brought his boy. Father and son +were pulled up out of the vault, brought into the daylight, and +led into an open expanse. We tried above everything to +interest them, even in the smallest degree, in what is universal +and impersonal, feeling that in that direction lies +healing. We explained to the child as well as we could some +morsels of science, and in explaining to him we explained to the +father as well. When the anguish begotten by some outbreak +on the part of the wife more violent than usual became almost too +much to bear, we did our best to counsel, and as a last +consolation we could point to Death, divine Death, and +repose. It was but for a few more years at the utmost, and +then must come a rest which no sorrow could invade. +“Having death as an ally, I do not tremble at +shadows,” is an immortal quotation from some unknown Greek +author. Providence, too, by no miracle, came to our +relief. The wife died, as it was foreseen she must, and +that weight being removed, some elasticity and recoil developed +itself. John’s one thought now was for his child, and +by means of the child the father passed out of himself, and +connected himself with the future. The child did in fact +teach the father exactly what we tried to teach, and taught it +with a power of conviction which never could have been produced +by any mere appeals to the reason. The father felt that he +was battered, useless, and a failure, but that in the boy there +were unknown possibilities, and that he might in after life say +that it was to this battered, useless failure of a father he owed +his success. There was nothing now that he would not do to +help Tom’s education, and we joyfully aided as best we +could. So, partly I believe by us, but far more by nature +herself, John’s salvation was wrought out at least in a +measure; discord by the intervention of another note resolved +itself into a kind of harmony, and even through the skylight in +the Strand a glimpse of the azure was obtained.</p> +<p>I hope my readers, if I should ever have any, will remember +that what I wish to do is to give some account of the manner in +which we sought to be of service to the small and very humble +circle of persons whom we had collected about us. I have +preserved no record of anything; I am merely putting down what +now comes into my mind—the two or three articles, not +thirty-nine, nor, alas! a third of that number—which we +were able to hold. I recollect one or two more which +perhaps are worth preservation. In my younger days the aim +of theologians was the justification of the ways of God to +man. They could not succeed. They succeeded no better +than ourselves in satisfying the intellect with a system. +Nor does the Christian religion profess any such +satisfaction. It teaches rather the great doctrine of a +Remedy, of a Mediator; and therein it is profoundly true. +It is unphilosophical in the sense that it offers no explanation +from a single principle, and leaves the ultimate mystery as dark +as before, but it is in accordance with our intuitions. +Everywhere in nature we see exaction of penalties down to the +uttermost farthing, but following after this we discern +forgiveness, obliterating and restorative. Both tendencies +exist. Nature is Rhadamanthine, and more so, for she visits +the sins of the fathers upon the children; but there is in her +also an infinite Pity, healing all wounds, softening all +calamities, ever hastening to alleviate and repair. +Christianity in strange historical fashion is an expression of +nature, a projection of her into a biography and a creed.</p> +<p>We endeavoured to follow Christianity in the depth of its +distinction between right and wrong. Herein this religion +is of priceless value. Philosophy proclaims the unity of +our nature. To philosophy every passion is as natural as +every act of saintlike negation, and one of the usual effects of +thinking or philosophising is to bring together all that is +apparently contrary in man, and to show how it proceeds really +from one centre. But Christianity had not to propound a +theory of man; it had to redeem the world. It laid awful +stress on the duality in us, and the stress laid on that duality +is the world’s salvation. The words right and wrong +are not felt now as they were felt by Paul. They shade off +one into the other. Nevertheless, if mankind is not to be +lost, the ancient antagonism must be maintained. The +shallowest of mortals is able now to laugh at the notion of a +personal devil. No doubt there is no such thing existent; +but the horror at evil which could find no other expression than +in the creation of a devil is no subject for laughter, and if it +do not in some shape or other survive, the race itself will not +survive. No religion, so far as I know, has dwelt like +Christianity with such profound earnestness on the bisection of +man—on the distinction within him, vital to the very last +degree, between the higher and the lower, heaven and hell. +What utter folly is it because of an antique vesture to condemn +as effete what the vesture clothes! Its doctrine and its +sacred story are fixtures in concrete form of precious thoughts +purchased by blood and tears.</p> +<p>I fancy I see the sneer of theologians and critics at our +efforts. The theologians will mock us because we had +nothing better to say. I can only reply that we did our +best. We said all we knew, and we would most thankfully +have said more, had we been sure that it must be true. I +would remind, too, those of our judges who think that we were +such wretched mortals, blind leaders of the blind, that there +have been long ages during which men never pretended to +understand more than we professed to understand. To say +nothing of the Jews, whose meagre system would certainly not have +been thought either satisfying or orthodox by modern Christians, +the Greeks and Romans lived in no clearer light than that which +shines on me. The critics, too, will condemn because of our +weakness; but this defect I at once concede. The severest +critic could not possibly be so severe as I am upon myself. +I <i>know</i> my failings. He, probably, would miss many of +them. But, again I urge that men are not to be debarred by +reason of weakness from doing what little good may lie within +reach of their hands. Had we attempted to save scholars and +thinkers we should have deserved the ridicule with which no doubt +we shall be visited. We aspired to save nobody. We +knew no salvation ourselves. We ventured humbly to bring a +feeble ray of light into the dwellings of two or three poor men +and women; and if Prometheus, fettered to his rock, dwelt with +pride on the blind hopes which he had caused to visit mortals, +the hopes which “stopped the continued anticipation of +their destiny,” we perhaps may be pardoned if at times we +thought that what we were doing was not altogether vanity.</p> +<h2><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">QUI DEDIT IN MARI VIAM</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">From</span> time to time I received a +newspaper from my native town, and one morning, looking over the +advertisements, I caught sight of one which arrested me. It +was as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“A Widow Lady desires a situation as Daily +Governess to little children. Address E. B., care of Mrs. +George Andrews, Fancy Bazaar, High Street.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mrs. George Andrews was a cousin of Ellen Butts, and that this +was her advertisement I had not the slightest doubt. +Suddenly, without being able to give the least reason for it, an +unconquerable desire to see her arose within me. I could +not understand it. I recollected that memorable resolution +after Miss Arbour’s story years ago. How true that +counsel of Miss Arbour’s was! and yet it had the defect of +most counsel. It was but a principle; whether it suited +this particular case was the one important point on which Miss +Arbour was no authority. What <i>was</i> it which prompted +this inexplicable emotion? A thousand things rushed through +my head without reason or order. I begin to believe that a +first love never dies. A boy falls in love at eighteen or +nineteen. The attachment comes to nothing. It is +broken off for a multitude of reasons, and he sees its +absurdity. He marries afterwards some other woman whom he +even adores, and he has children for whom he spends his life; yet +in an obscure corner of his soul he preserves everlastingly the +cherished picture of the girl who first was dear to him. +She, too, marries. In process of time she is fifty years +old, and he is fifty-two. He has not seen her for thirty +years or more, but he continually turns aside into the little +oratory, to gaze upon the face as it last appeared to him when he +left her at her gate and saw her no more. He inquires now +and then timidly about her whenever he gets the chance. And +once in his life he goes down to the town where she lives, solely +in order to get a sight of her without her knowing anything about +it. He does not succeed, and he comes back and tells his +wife, from whom he never conceals any secrets, that he has been +away on business. I did not for a moment confess that my +love for Ellen had returned. I knew who she was and what +she was, and what had led to our separation; but nevertheless, +all this obstinately remained in the background, and all the +passages of love between us, all our kisses, and above +everything, her tears at that parting in her father’s +house, thrust themselves upon me. It was a mystery to +me. What should have induced that utterly unexpected +resurrection of what I believed to be dead and buried, is beyond +my comprehension. However, the fact remains. I did +not to myself admit that this was love, but it <i>was</i> love, +and that it should have shot up with such swift vitality merely +because I had happened to see those initials was +miraculous. I pretended to myself that I should like once +more to see Mrs. Butts—perhaps she might be in want and I +could help her. I shrank from writing to her or from making +myself known to her, and at last I hit upon the expedient of +answering her advertisement in a feigned name, and requesting her +to call at the King’s Arms hotel upon a gentleman who +wished to engage a widow lady to teach his children. To +prevent any previous inquiries on her part, I said that my name +was Williams, that I lived in the country at some little distance +from the town, but that I should be there on business on the day +named. I took up my quarters at the King’s Arms the +night before. It seemed very strange to be in an inn in the +place in which I was born. I retired early to my bedroom, +and looked out in the clear moonlight over the river. The +landscape seemed haunted by ghosts of my former self. At +one particular point, so well known, I stood fishing. At +another, equally well known, where the water was dangerously +deep, I was examining the ice; and round the corner was the +boathouse where we kept the little craft in which I had voyaged +so many hundreds of miles on excursions upwards beyond where the +navigation ends, or, still more fascinating, down to where the +water widens and sails are to be seen, and there is a foretaste +of the distant sea. It is no pleasure to me to revisit +scenes in which earlier days have been passed. I detest the +sentimental melancholy which steals over me; the sense of the +lapse of time, and the reflection that so many whom I knew are +dead. I would always, if possible, spend my holiday in some +new scene, fresh to me, and full of new interest. I slept +but little, and when the morning came, instead of carrying out my +purpose of wandering through the streets, I was so sick of the +mood by which I had been helplessly overcome, that I sat at a +distance from the window in the coffee-room, and read diligently +last week’s <i>Bell’s Weekly Messenger</i>. My +reading, however, was nothing. I do not suppose I +comprehended the simplest paragraph. My thoughts were away, +and I watched the clock slowly turning towards the hour when +Ellen was to call. I foresaw that I should not be able to +speak to her at the inn. If I have anything particular to +say to anybody, I can always say it so much better out of +doors. I dreaded the confinement of the room, and the +necessity for looking into her face. Under the sky, and in +motion, I should be more at liberty. At last eleven struck +from the church in the square, and five minutes afterwards the +waiter entered to announce Mrs. Butts. I was therefore +right, and she was “E. B.” I was sure that I +should not be recognised. Since I saw her last I had grown +a beard, my hair had got a little grey, and she was always a +little short-sighted. She came in, and as she entered she +put away over her bonnet her thick black veil. Not ten +seconds passed before she was seated on the opposite side of the +table to that on which I was sitting, but I re-read in her during +those ten seconds the whole history of years. I cannot say +that externally she looked worn or broken. I had imagined +that I should see her undone with her great troubles, but to some +extent, and yet not altogether, I was mistaken. The +cheek-bones were more prominent than of old, and her dark-brown +hair drawn tightly over her forehead increased the clear paleness +of the face; the just perceptible tint of colour which I +recollect being now altogether withdrawn. But she was not +haggard, and evidently not vanquished. There was even a +gaiety on her face, perhaps a trifle enforced, and although the +darkness of sorrow gleamed behind it, the sorrow did not seem to +be ultimate, but to be in front of a final background, if not of +joy, at least of resignation. Her ancient levity of manner +had vanished, or at most had left nothing but a trace. I +thought I detected it here and there in a line about the mouth, +and perhaps in her walk. There was a reminiscence of it too +in her clothes. Notwithstanding poverty and distress, the +old neatness—that particular care which used to charm me so +when I was little more than a child, was there still. I was +always susceptible to this virtue, and delicate hands and feet, +with delicate care bestowed thereon, were more attractive to me +than slovenly beauty. I noticed that the gloves, though +mended, fitted with the same precision, and that her dress was +unwrinkled and perfectly graceful. Whatever she might have +had to endure, it had not destroyed that self-centred +satisfaction which makes life tolerable.</p> +<p>I was impelled at once to say that I had to beg her pardon for +asking her there. Unfortunately I was obliged to go over to +Cowston, a village which was about three miles from the +town. Perhaps she would not mind walking part of the way +with me through the meadows, and then we could talk with more +freedom, as I should not feel pressed for time. To this +arrangement she at once agreed, and dropping her thick veil over +her face, we went out. In a few minutes we were clear of +the houses, and I began the conversation.</p> +<p>“Have you been in the habit of teaching?”</p> +<p>“No. The necessity for taking to it has only +lately arisen.”</p> +<p>“What can you teach?”</p> +<p>“Not much beyond what children of ten or eleven years +old are expected to know; but I could take charge of them +entirely.”</p> +<p>“Have you any children of your own?”</p> +<p>“One.”</p> +<p>“Could you take a situation as resident teacher if you +have a child?”</p> +<p>“I must get something to do, and if I can make no +arrangement by which my child can live with me, I shall try and +place her with a friend. I may be able to hear of some +appointment as a daily governess.”</p> +<p>“I should have thought that in your native town you +would have been easily able to find employment—you must be +well known?”</p> +<p>There was a pause, and after a moment or so she +said:—</p> +<p>“We were well known once, but we went abroad and lost +all our money. My husband died abroad. When I +returned, I found that there was very little which my friends +could do for me. I am not accomplished, and there are +crowds of young women who are more capable than I am. +Moreover, I saw that I was becoming a burden, and people called +on me rather as a matter of duty than for any other reason. +You don’t know how soon all but the very best insensibly +neglect very poor relatives if they are not gifted or +attractive. I do not wonder at being made to feel this, nor +do I blame anybody. My little girl is a cripple, my rooms +are dull, and I have nothing in me with which to amuse or +entertain visitors. Pardon my going into this detail. +It was necessary to say something in order to explain my +position.”</p> +<p>“May I ask what salary you will require if you live in +the house?”</p> +<p>“Five-and-thirty pounds a year, but I might take less if +I were asked to do so.”</p> +<p>“Are you a member of the Church of England?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“To what religious body do you belong?”</p> +<p>“I am an Independent, but I would go to Church if my +employers wished it.”</p> +<p>“I thought the Independents objected to go to +Church.”</p> +<p>“They do; but I should not object, if I could hear +anything at the Church which would help me.”</p> +<p>“I am rather surprised at your indifference.”</p> +<p>“I was once more particular, but I have seen much +suffering, and some things which were important to me are not so +now, and others which were not important have become +so.”</p> +<p>I then made up a little story. My sister and I lived +together. We were about to take up our abode at Cowston, +but were as yet strangers to it. I was left a widower with +two little children whom my sister could not educate, as she +could not spare the time. She would naturally have selected +the governess herself, but she was at some distance. She +would like to see Mrs. Butts before engaging her finally, but she +thought that as this advertisement presented itself, I might make +some preliminary inquiries. Perhaps, however, now that Mrs. +Butts knew the facts, she would object to living in the +house. I put it in this way, feeling sure that she would +catch my meaning.</p> +<p>“I am afraid that this situation will not suit me. +I could not go backwards and forwards so far every +day.”</p> +<p>“I understand you perfectly, and feared that this would +be your decision. But if you hesitate, I can give you the +best of references. I had not thought of that before. +References of course will be required by you as well as by +me.”</p> +<p>I put my hand in my pocket for my pocket-book, but I could not +find it. We had now reached a part of our road familiar +enough to both of us. Along that very path Ellen and I had +walked years ago. Under those very trees, on that very seat +had we sat, and she and I were there again. All the old +confidences, confessions, tendernesses, rushed upon me. +What is there which is more potent than the recollection of past +love to move us to love, and knit love with closest bonds? +Can we ever cease to love the souls who have once shared all that +we know and feel? Can we ever be indifferent to those who +have our secrets, and whose secrets we hold? As I looked at +her, I remembered what she knew about me, and what I knew about +her, and this simple thought so overmastered me, that I could +hold out no longer. I said to her that if she would like to +rest for one moment, I might be able to find my papers. We +sat down together, and she drew up her veil to read the address +which I was about to give her. She glanced at me, as I +thought, with a strange expression of excited interrogation, and +something swiftly passed across her face, which warned me that I +had not a moment to lose. I took out one of my own cards, +handed it to her, and said, “Here is a reference which +perhaps you may know.” She bent over it, turned to +me, fixed her eyes intently and directly on mine for one moment, +and then I thought she would have fallen. My arm was around +her in an instant, her head was on my shoulder, and my many +wanderings were over. It was broad, high, sunny noon, the +most solitary hour of the daylight in those fields. We were +roused by the distant sound of the town clock striking twelve; we +rose and went on together to Cowston by the river bank, returning +late in the evening.</p> +<h2><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FLAGELLUM NON APPROQUINABIT TABERNACULO +TUO</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">suppose</span> that the reason why in +novels the story ends with a marriage is partly that the +excitement of the tale ceases then, and partly also because of a +theory that marriage is an epoch, determining the career of life +after it. The epoch once announced, nothing more need be +explained; everything else follows as a matter of course. +These notes of mine are autobiographical, and not a +romance. I have never known much about epochs. I have +had one or two, one specially when I first began to read and +think; but after that, if I have changed, it has been slowly and +imperceptibly. My life, therefore, is totally unfitted to +be the basis of fiction. My return to Ellen, and our +subsequent marriage, were only partially an epoch. A change +had come, but it was one which had long been preparing. +Ellen’s experiences had altered her position, and mine too +was altered. She had been driven into religion by trouble, +and knowing nothing of criticism or philosophy, retained the old +forms for her religious feeling. But the very quickness of +her emotion caused her to welcome all new and living modes of +expressing it. It is only when feeling has ceased to +accompany a creed that it becomes fixed, and verbal departures +from it are counted heresy. I too cared less for argument, +and it even gave me pleasure to talk in her dialect, so familiar +to me, but for so many years unused.</p> +<p>It was now necessary for me to add to my income. I had +nothing upon which to depend save my newspaper, which was +obviously insufficient. At last, I succeeded in obtaining +some clerical employment. For no other work was I fit, for +my training had not been special in any one direction. My +hours were long, from ten in the morning till seven in the +evening, and as I was three miles distant from the office, I was +really away from home for eleven hours every day, excepting on +Sundays. I began to calculate that my life consisted of +nothing but the brief spaces allowed to me for rest, and these +brief spaces I could not enjoy because I dwelt upon their +brevity. There was some excuse for me. Never could +there be any duty incumbent upon man much more inhuman and devoid +of interest than my own. How often I thought about my +friend Clark, and his experiences became mine. The whole +day I did nothing but write, and what I wrote called forth no +single faculty of the mind. Nobody who has not tried such +an occupation can possibly forecast the strange habits, humours, +fancies, and diseases which after a time it breeds. I was +shut up in a room half below the ground. In this room were +three other men besides myself, two of them between fifty and +sixty, and one about three or four-and-twenty. All four of +us kept books or copied letters from ten to seven, with an +interval of three-quarters of an hour for dinner. In all +three of these men, as in the case of Clark’s companions, +there had been developed, partly I suppose by the circumstance of +enforced idleness of brain, the most loathsome tendency to +obscenity. This was the one subject which was common +ground, and upon which they could talk. It was fostered too +by a passion for beer, which was supplied by the publican across +the way, who was perpetually travelling to and fro with +cans. My horror when I first found out into what society I +was thrust was unspeakable. There was a clock within a +hundred yards of my window which struck the hours and +quarters. How I watched that clock! My spirits rose +or fell with each division of the day. From ten to twelve +there was nothing but gloom. By half-past twelve I began to +discern dinner time, and the prospect was brighter. After +dinner there was nothing to be done but doggedly to endure until +five, and at five I was able to see over the distance from five +to seven. My disgust at my companions, however, came to be +mixed with pity. I found none of them cruel, and I received +many little kindnesses from them. I discovered that their +trade was largely answerable for the impurity of thought and +speech which so shocked me. Its monotony compelled some +countervailing stimulus, and as they had never been educated to +care for anything in particular, they found the necessary relief +in sensuality. At first they “chaffed” and +worried me a good deal because of my silence, but at last they +began to think I was “religious,” and then they +ceased to torment me. I rather encouraged them in the +belief that I had a right to exemption from their conversation, +and I passed, I believe, for a Plymouth brother. The only +thing which they could not comprehend was that I made no attempt +to convert them.</p> +<p>The whole establishment was under the rule of a +deputy-manager, who was the terror of the place. He was +tall, thin, and suffered occasionally from spitting of blood, +brought on no doubt from excitement. He was the strangest +mixture of exactitude and passion. He had complete mastery +over every detail of the business, and he never blundered. +All his work was thorough, down to the very bottom, and he had +the most intolerant hatred of everything which was loose and +inaccurate. He never passed a day without flaming out into +oaths and curses against his subordinates, and they could not say +in his wildest fury that his ravings were beside the mark. +He was wrong in his treatment of men—utterly +wrong—but his facts were always correct. I never saw +anybody hated as he was, and the hatred against him was the more +intense because nobody could convict him of a mistake. He +seemed to enjoy a storm, and knew nothing whatever of the +constraints which with ordinary men prevent abusive and brutal +language to those around them. Some of his clerks suffered +greatly from him, and he almost broke down two or three from the +constant nervous strain upon them produced by fear of his +explosions. For my own part, although I came in for a full +share of his temper, I at once made up my mind as soon as I +discovered what he was, not to open my lips to him except under +compulsion. My one object now was to get a living. I +wished also to avoid the self-mortification which must ensue from +altercation. I dreaded, as I have always dreaded beyond +what I can tell, the chaos and wreck which, with me, follows +subjugation by anger, and I held to my resolve under all +provocation. It was very difficult, but how many times I +have blessed myself for adhesion to it. Instead of going +home undone with excitement, and trembling with fear of +dismissal, I have walked out of my dungeon having had to bite my +lips till the blood came, but still conqueror, and with peace of +mind.</p> +<p>Another stratagem of defence which I adopted at the office was +never to betray to a soul anything about myself. Nobody +knew anything about me, whether I was married or single, where I +lived, or what I thought upon a single subject of any +importance. I cut off my office life in this way from my +life at home so completely that I was two selves, and my true +self was not stained by contact with my other self. It was +a comfort to me to think the moment the clock struck seven that +my second self died, and that my first self suffered nothing by +having anything to do with it. I was not the person who sat +at the desk downstairs and endured the abominable talk of his +colleagues and the ignominy of serving such a chief. I knew +nothing about him. I was a citizen walking London streets; +I had my opinions upon human beings and books; I was on equal +terms with my friends; I was Ellen’s husband; I was, in +short, a man. By this scrupulous isolation, I preserved +myself, and the clerk was not debarred from the domain of +freedom.</p> +<p>It is very terrible to think that the labour by which men are +to live should be of this order. The ideal of labour is +that it should be something in which we can take an interest and +even a pride. Immense masses of it in London are the merest +slavery, and it is as mechanical as the daily journey of the +omnibus horse. There is no possibility of relieving it, and +all the ordinary copybook advice of moralists and poets as to the +temper in which we should earn our bread is childish +nonsense. If a man is a painter, or a physician, or a +barrister, or even a tradesman, well and good. The maxims +of authors may be of some service to him, and he may be able to +exemplify them; but if he is a copying clerk they are an insult, +and he can do nothing but arch his back to bear his burden and +find some compensation elsewhere. True it is, that +beneficent Nature here, as always, is helpful. Habit, after +a while, mitigated much of the bitterness of destiny. The +hard points of the flint became smoothed and worn away by +perpetual tramping over them, so that they no longer wounded with +their original sharpness; and the sole of the foot was in time +provided with a merciful callosity. Then, too, there was +developed an appetite which was voracious for all that was +best. Who shall tell the revulsion on reaching home, which +I should never have known had I lived a life of idleness! +Ellen was fond of hearing me read, and with a little care I was +able to select what would bear reading—dramas, for +example. She liked the reading for the reading’s +sake, and she liked to know that what I thought was communicated +to her; that she was not excluded from the sphere in which I +lived. Of the office she never heard a word, and I never +would tell her anything about it; but there was scarcely a single +book in my possession which could be read aloud, that we did not +go through together in this way. I don’t prescribe +this kind of life to everybody. Some of my best friends, I +know, would find it intolerable, but it suited us. +Philosophy and religion I did not touch. It was necessary +to choose themes with varying human interest, such as the best +works of fiction, a play, or a poem; and these perhaps, on the +whole, did me more good at that time than speculation. Oh, +how many times have I left my office humiliated by some silently +endured outbreak on the part of my master, more galling because I +could not put it aside as altogether gratuitous; and in less than +an hour it was two miles away, and I was myself again. If a +man wants to know what the potency of love is, he must be a +menial; he must be despised. Those who are prosperous and +courted cannot understand its power. Let him come home +after he has suffered what is far worse than hatred—the +contempt of a superior, who knows that he can afford to be +contemptuous, seeing that he can replace his slave at a +moment’s notice. Let him be trained by his tyrant to +dwell upon the thought that he belongs to the vast crowd of +people in London who are unimportant; almost useless; to whom it +is a charity to offer employment; who are conscious of possessing +no gift which makes them of any value to anybody, and he will +then comprehend the divine efficacy of the affection of that +woman to whom he is dear. God’s mercy be praised ever +more for it! I cannot write poetry, but if I could, no +theme would tempt me like that of love to such a person as I +was—not love, as I say again, to the hero, but love to the +Helot. Over and over again, when I have thought about it, I +have felt my poor heart swell with a kind of uncontrollable +fervour. I have often, too, said to myself that this love +is no delusion. If we were to set it down as nothing more +than a merciful cheat on the part of the Creator, however +pleasant it might be, it would lose its charm. If I were to +think that my wife’s devotion to me is nothing more than +the simple expression of a necessity to love somebody, that there +is nothing in me which justifies such devotion, I should be +miserable. Rather, I take it, is the love of woman to man a +revelation of the relationship in which God stands to +him—of what <i>ought</i> to be, in fact. In the love +of a woman to the man who is of no account God has provided us +with a true testimony of what is in His own heart. I often +felt this when looking at myself and at Ellen. “What +is there in me?” I have said, “is she not the victim +of some self-created deception?” and I was wretched till I +considered that in her I saw the Divine Nature itself, and that +her passion was a stream straight from the Highest. The +love of woman is, in other words, a living witness never failing +of an actuality in God which otherwise we should never +know. This led me on to connect it with Christianity; but I +am getting incoherent and must stop.</p> +<p>My employment now was so incessant, for it was still necessary +that I should write for my newspaper—although my visits to +the House of Commons had perforce ceased—that I had no time +for any schemes or dreams such as those which had tormented me +when I had more leisure. In one respect this was a +blessing. Destiny now had prescribed for me. I was no +longer agitated by ignorance of what I ought to do. My +present duty was obviously to get my own living, and having got +that, I could do little besides save continue the Sundays with +M’Kay.</p> +<p>We were almost entirely alone. We had no means of making +any friends. We had no money, and no gifts of any +kind. We were neither of us witty nor attractive, but I +have often wondered, nevertheless, what it was which prevented us +from obtaining acquaintance with persons who thronged to houses +in which I could see nothing worth a twopenny omnibus fare. +Certain it is, that we went out of our way sometimes to induce +people to call upon us whom we thought we should like; but, if +they came once or twice, they invariably dropped off, and we saw +no more of them. This behaviour was so universal that, +without the least affectation, I acknowledge there must be +something repellent in me, but what it is I cannot tell. +That Ellen was the cause of the general aversion, it is +impossible to believe. The only theory I have is, that +partly owing to a constant sense of fatigue, due to imperfect +health, and partly to chafing irritation at mere gossip, although +I had no power to think of anything better, or say anything +better myself, I was avoided both by the commonplace and those +who had talent. Commonplace persons avoided me because I +did not chatter, and persons of talent because I stood for +nothing. “There was nothing in me.” We +met at M’Kay’s two gentlemen whom we thought we might +invite to our house. One of them was an antiquarian. +He had discovered in an excavation in London some Roman +remains. This had led him on to the study of the position +and boundaries of the Roman city. He had become an +authority upon this subject, and had lectured upon it. He +came; but as we were utterly ignorant, and could not, with all +our efforts, manifest any sympathy which he valued at the worth +of a pin, he soon departed, and departed for ever. The +second was a student of Elizabethan literature, and I rashly +concluded at once that he must be most delightful. He +likewise came. I showed him my few poor books, which he +condemned, and I found that such observations as I could make he +considered as mere twaddle. I knew nothing, or next to +nothing, about the editions or the curiosities, or the proposed +emendations of obscure passages, and he, too, departed +abruptly. I began to think after he had gone that my study +of Shakespeare was mere dilettantism but I afterwards came to the +conclusion that if a man wishes to spoil himself for Shakespeare, +the best thing he can do is to turn Shakespearian critic.</p> +<p>My worst enemy at this time was ill health, and it was more +distressing than it otherwise would have been, because I had such +responsibilities upon me. When I lived alone I knew that if +anything should happen to me it would be of no particular +consequence, but now whenever I felt sick I was anxious on +account of Ellen. What would become of her—this was +the thought which kept me awake night after night when the +terrors of depression were upon me, as they often were. But +still, terrors with growing years had lost their ancient +strength. My brain and nerves were quiet compared with what +they were in times gone by, and I had gradually learned the +blessed lesson which is taught by familiarity with sorrow, that +the greater part of what is dreadful in it lies in the +imagination. The true Gorgon head is seldom seen in +reality. That it exists I do not doubt, but it is not so +commonly visible as we think. Again, as we get older we +find that all life is given us on conditions of uncertainty, and +yet we walk courageously on. The labourer marries and has +children, when there is nothing but his own strength between him +and ruin. A million chances are encountered every day, and +any one of the million accidents which might happen would cripple +him or kill him, and put into the workhouse those who depend upon +him. Yet he treads his path undisturbed. Life to all +of us is a narrow plank placed across a gulf, which yawns on +either side, and if we were perpetually looking down into it we +should fall. So at last, the possibility of disaster ceased +to affright me. I had been brought off safely so many times +when destruction seemed imminent, that I grew hardened, and lay +down quietly at night, although the whim of a madman might +to-morrow cast me on the pavement. Frequently, as I have +said, I could not do this, but I strove to do it, and was able to +do it when in health.</p> +<p>I tried to think about nothing which expressed whatever in the +world may be insoluble or simply tragic. A great change is +just beginning to come over us in this respect. So many +books I find are written which aim merely at new presentation of +the hopeless. The contradictions of fate, the darkness of +death, the fleeting of man over this brief stage of existence, +whence we know not, and whither we know not, are favourite +subjects with writers who seem to think that they are profound, +because they can propose questions which cannot be +answered. There is really more strength of mind required +for resolving the commonest difficulty than is necessary for the +production of poems on these topics. The characteristic of +so much that is said and written now is melancholy; and it is +melancholy, not because of any deeper acquaintance with the +secrets of man than that which was possessed by our forefathers, +but because it is easy to be melancholy, and the time lacks +strength.</p> +<p>As I am now setting down, without much order or connection, +the lessons which I had to learn, I may perhaps be excused if I +add one or two others. I can say of them all, that they are +not book lessons. They have been taught me by my own +experience, and as a rule I have always found that in my own most +special perplexities I got but little help from books or other +persons. I had to find out for myself what was for me the +proper way of dealing with them.</p> +<p>My love for Ellen was great, but I discovered that even such +love as this could not be left to itself. It wanted +perpetual cherishing. The lamp, if it was to burn brightly, +required daily trimming, for people became estranged and +indifferent, not so much by open quarrel or serious difference, +as by the intervention of trifles which need but the smallest, +although continuous effort for their removal. The true +wisdom is to waste no time over them, but to eject them at +once. Love, too, requires that the two persons who love one +another shall constantly present to one another what is best in +them, and to accomplish this, deliberate purpose, and even +struggle, are necessary. If through relapse into idleness +we do not attempt to bring soul and heart into active communion +day by day, what wonder if this once exalted relationship become +vulgar and mean?</p> +<p>I was much overworked. It was not the work itself which +was such a trial, but the time it consumed. At best, I had +but a clear space of an hour, or an hour and a half at home, and +to slave merely for this seemed such a mockery! Day after +day sped swiftly by, made up of nothing but this infernal +drudgery, and I said to myself—Is this life? But I +made up my mind that <i>never would I give myself +tongue</i>. I clapped a muzzle on my mouth. Had I +followed my own natural bent, I should have become expressive +about what I had to endure, but I found that expression reacts on +him who expresses and intensifies what is expressed. If we +break out into rhetoric over a toothache, the pangs are not the +easier, but the worse to be borne.</p> +<p>I naturally contracted a habit of looking forward from the +present moment to one beyond. The whole week seemed to +exist for the Sunday. On Monday morning I began counting +the hours till Sunday should arrive. The consequence was, +that when it came, it was not enjoyed properly, and I wasted it +in noting the swiftness of its flight. Oh, how absurd is +man! If we were to reckon up all the moments which we +really enjoy for their own sake, how few should we find them to +be! The greatest part, far the greatest part, of our lives +is spent in dreaming over the morrow, and when it comes, it, too, +is consumed in the anticipation of a brighter morrow, and so the +cheat is prolonged, even to the grave. This tendency, +unconquerable though it may appear to be, can to a great extent +at any rate, be overcome by strenuous discipline. I tried +to blind myself to the future, and many and many a time, as I +walked along that dreary New Road or Old St. Pancras Road, have I +striven to compel myself not to look at the image of Hampstead +Heath or Regent’s Park, as yet six days in front of me, but +to get what I could out of what was then with me.</p> +<p>The instinct which leads us perpetually to compare what we are +with what we might be is no doubt of enormous value, and is the +spring which prompts all action, but, like every instinct, it is +the source of greatest danger. I remember the day and the +very spot on which it flashed into me, like a sudden burst of the +sun’s rays, that I had no right to this or that—to so +much happiness, or even so much virtue. What title-deeds +could I show for such a right? Straightway it seemed as if +the centre of a whole system of dissatisfaction were removed, and +as if the system collapsed. God, creating from His infinite +resources a whole infinitude of beings, had created me with a +definite position on the scale, and that position only could I +claim. Cease the trick of contrast. If I can by any +means get myself to consider myself alone without reference to +others, discontent will vanish. I walk this Old St. Pancras +Road on foot—another rides. Keep out of view him who +rides and all persons riding, and I shall not complain that I +tramp in the wet. So also when I think how small and weak I +am.</p> +<p>How foolish it is to try and cure by argument what time will +cure so completely and so gently if left to itself. As I +get older, the anxiety to prove myself right if I quarrel dies +out. I hold my tongue and time vindicates me, if it is +possible to vindicate me, or convicts me if I am wrong. +Many and many a debate too which I have had with myself alone has +been settled in the same way. The question has been put +aside and has lost its importance. The ancient Church +thought, and seriously enough, no doubt, that all the vital +interests of humanity were bound up with the controversies upon +the Divine nature; but the centuries have rolled on, and who +cares for those controversies now. The problems of death +and immortality once upon a time haunted me so that I could +hardly sleep for thinking about them. I cannot tell how, +but so it is, that at the present moment, when I am years nearer +the end, they trouble me but very little. If I could but +bury and let rot things which torment me and come to no +settlement—if I could always do this—what a blessing +it would be.</p> +<h2><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +145</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HOLIDAYS</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> said that Ellen had a child +by her first husband. Marie, for that was her name, was now +ten years old. She was like neither her mother nor father, +and yet was <i>shot</i> as it were with strange gleams which +reminded me of her paternal grandmother for a moment, and then +disappeared. She had rather coarse dark hair, small black +eyes, round face, and features somewhat blunt or blurred, the +nose in particular being so. She had a tendency to be +stout. For books she did not care, and it was with the +greatest difficulty we taught her to read. She was not +orderly or careful about her person, and in this respect was a +sore disappointment—not that she was positively careless, +but she took no pride in dress, nor in keeping her room and her +wardrobe neat. She was fond of bright colours, which was +another trial to Ellen, who disliked any approach to +gaudiness. She was not by any means a fool, and she had a +peculiarly swift mode of expressing herself upon persons and +things. A stranger looking at her would perhaps have +adjudged her inclined to sensuousness, and dull. She was +neither one nor the other. She ate little, although she was +fond of sweets. Her rather heavy face, with no clearly cut +outline in it, was not the typical face for passion; but she was +capable of passion to an extraordinary degree, and what is more +remarkable, it was not explosive passion, or rather it was not +passion which she suffered to explode. I remember once when +she was a little mite she was asked out somewhere to tea. +She was dressed and ready, but it began to rain fast, and she was +told she could not go. She besought, but it was in +vain. We could not afford cabs, and there was no +omnibus. Marie, finding all her entreaties were useless, +quietly walked out of the room; and after some little time her +mother, calling her and finding she did not come, went to look +for her. She had gone into the back-yard, and was sitting +there in the rain by the side of the water-butt. She was +soaked, and her best clothes were spoiled. I must confess +that I did not take very kindly to her. I was irritated at +her slowness in learning; it was, in fact, painful to be obliged +to teach her. I thought that perhaps she might have some +undeveloped taste for music, but she showed none, and our +attempts to get her to sing ordinary melodies were a +failure. She was more or less of a locked cabinet to +me. I tried her with the two or three keys which I had, but +finding that none of them fitted, I took no more pains about +her.</p> +<p>One Sunday we determined upon a holiday. It was a bold +adventure for us, but we had made up our minds. There was +an excursion train to Hastings, and accordingly Ellen, Marie, and +myself were at London Bridge Station early in the morning. +It was a lovely summer’s day in mid-July. The journey +down was uncomfortable enough in consequence of the heat and +dust, but we heeded neither one nor the other in the hope of +seeing the sea. We reached Hastings at about eleven +o’clock, and strolled westwards towards Bexhill. Our +pleasure was exquisite. Who can tell, save the imprisoned +Londoner, the joy of walking on the clean sea-sand! What a +delight that was, to say nothing of the beauty of the +scenery! To be free of the litter and filth of a London +suburb, of its broken hedges, its brickbats, its torn +advertisements, its worn and trampled grass in fields half given +over to the speculative builder: in place of this, to tread the +immaculate shore over which breathed a wind not charged with +soot; to replace the dull, shrouding obscurity of the smoke by a +distance so distinct that the masts of the ships whose hulls were +buried below the horizon were visible—all this was perfect +bliss. It was not very poetic bliss, perhaps; but +nevertheless it is a fact that the cleanness of the sea and the +sea air was as attractive to us as any of the sea +attributes. We had a wonderful time. Only in the +country is it possible to note the change of morning into +mid-day, of mid-day into afternoon, and of afternoon into +evening; and it is only in the country, therefore, that a day +seems stretched out into its proper length. We had brought +all our food with us, and sat upon the shore in the shadow of a +piece of the cliff. A row of heavy white clouds lay along +the horizon almost unchangeable and immovable, with their +summit-lines and the part of the mass just below them steeped in +sunlight. The level opaline water differed only from a +floor by a scarcely perceptible heaving motion, which broke into +the faintest of ripples at our feet. So still was the great +ocean, so quietly did everything lie in it, that the wavelets +which licked the beach were as pure and bright as if they were a +part of the mid-ocean depths. About a mile from us, at one +o’clock, a long row of porpoises appeared, showing +themselves in graceful curves for half-an-hour or so, till they +went out farther to sea off Fairlight. Some fishing-boats +were becalmed just in front of us. Their shadows slept, or +almost slept, upon the water, a gentle quivering alone showing +that it was not complete sleep, or if sleep, that it was sleep +with dreams. The intensity of the sunlight sharpened the +outlines of every little piece of rock, and of the pebbles, in a +manner which seemed supernatural to us Londoners. In London +we get the heat of the sun, but not his light, and the separation +of individual parts into such vivid isolation was so surprising +that even Marie noticed it, and said it “all seemed as if +she were looking through a glass.” It was +perfect—perfect in its beauty—and perfect because, +from the sun in the heavens down to the fly with burnished wings +on the hot rock, there was nothing out of harmony. +Everything breathed one spirit. Marie played near us; Ellen +and I sat still, doing nothing. We wanted nothing, we had +nothing to achieve; there were no curiosities to be seen, there +was no particular place to be reached, no “plan of +operations,” and London was forgotten for the time. +It lay behind us in the north-west, and the cliff was at the back +of us shutting out all thought of it. No reminiscences and +no anticipations disturbed us; the present was sufficient, and +occupied us totally.</p> +<p>I should like, if I could, to write an essay upon the art of +enjoying a holiday. It is sad to think how few people know +how to enjoy one, although they are so precious. We do not +sufficiently consider that enjoyment of every kind is an art +carefully to be learnt, and specially the art of making the most +of a brief space set apart for pleasure. It is foolish, for +example, if a man, city bred, has but twelve hours before him, to +spend more of it in eating and drinking than is necessary. +Eating and drinking produce stupidity, at least in some degree, +which may just as well be reserved for town. It is foolish +also to load the twelve hours with a task—so much to be +done. The sick person may perhaps want exercise, but to the +tolerably healthy the best of all recreation is the freedom from +fetters even when they are self-imposed.</p> +<p>Our train homewards was due at Bexhill a little after +seven. By five o’clock a change gradual but swift was +observed. The clouds which had charmed us all through the +morning and afternoon were in reality thunder-clouds, which woke +up like a surprised army under perfect discipline, and moved +magnificently towards us. Already afar off we heard the +softened echoing roll of the thunder. Every now and then we +saw a sharp thrust of lightning down into the water, and +shuddered when we thought that perhaps underneath that stab there +might be a ship with living men. The battle at first was at +such a distance that we watched it with intense and solemn +delight. As yet not a breath of air stirred, but presently, +over in the south-east, a dark ruffled patch appeared on the +horizon, and we agreed that it was time to go. The +indistinguishable continuous growl now became articulated into +distinct crashes. I had miscalculated the distance to the +station, and before we got there the rain, skirmishing in +advance, was upon us. We took shelter in a cottage for a +moment in order that Ellen might get a glass of +water—bad-looking stuff it was, but she was very +thirsty—and put on her cloak. We then started again +on our way. We reached the station at about half-past six, +before the thunder was overhead, but not before Ellen had got +wet, despite all my efforts to protect her. She was also +very hot from hurrying, and yet there was nothing to be done but +to sit in a kind of covered shed till the train came up. +The thunder and lightning were, however, so tremendous, that we +thought of nothing else. When they were at their worst, the +lightning looked like the upset of a cauldron of white glowing +metal—with such strength, breadth, and volume did it +descend. Just as the train arrived, the roar began to +abate, and in about half-an-hour it had passed over to the north, +leaving behind the rain, cold and continuous, which fell all +round us from a dark, heavy, grey sky. The carnage in which +we were was a third-class, with seats arranged parallel to the +sides. It was crowded, and we were obliged to sit in the +middle, exposed to the draught which the tobacco smoke made +necessary. Some of the company were noisy, and before we +got to Red Hill became noisier, as the brandy-flasks which had +been well filled at Hastings began to work. Many were +drenched, and this was an excuse for much of the drinking; +although for that matter, any excuse or none is generally +sufficient. At Red Hill we were stopped by other trains, +and before we came to Croydon we were an hour late. We had +now become intolerably weary. The songs were disgusting, +and some of the women who were with the men had also been +drinking, and behaved in a manner which it was not pleasant that +Ellen and Marie should see. The carriage was lighted +fortunately by one dim lamp only which hung in the middle, and I +succeeded at last in getting seats at the further end, where +there was a knot of more decent persons who had huddled up there +away from the others. All the glory of the morning was +forgotten. Instead of three happy, exalted creatures, we +were three dejected, shivering mortals, half poisoned with foul +air and the smell of spirits. We crawled up to London +Bridge at the slowest pace, and, finally, the railway company +discharged us on the platform at ten minutes past eleven. +Not a place in any omnibus could be secured, and we therefore +walked for a mile or so till I saw a cab, which—unheard-of +expense for me—I engaged, and we were landed at our own +house exactly at half-past twelve. The first thing to be +done was to get Marie to bed. She was instantly asleep, and +was none the worse for her journey. With Ellen the case was +different. She could not sleep, and the next morning was +feverish. She insisted that it was nothing more than a bad +cold, and would on no account permit me even to give her any +medicine. She would get up presently, and she and Marie +could get on well enough together. But when I reached home +on Monday evening, Ellen was worse, and was still in bed.</p> +<p>I sent at once for the doctor, who would give no opinion for a +day or two, but meanwhile directed that she was to remain where +she was, and take nothing but the lightest food. Tuesday +night passed, and the fever still increased. I had become +very anxious, but I dared not stay with her, for I knew not what +might happen if I were absent from my work. I was obliged +to try and think of somebody who would come and help us. +Our friend Taylor, who once was the coal-porter at Somerset +House, came into my mind. He, as I have said when talking +about him, was married, but had no children. To him +accordingly I went. I never shall forget the alacrity with +which he prompted his wife to go, and with which she +consented. I was shut up in my own sufferings, but I +remember a flash of joy that all our efforts in our room had not +been in vain. I was delighted that I had secured +assistance, but I do believe the uppermost thought was delight +that we had been able to develop gratitude and affection. +Mrs. Taylor was an “ordinary woman.” She was +about fifty, rather stout, and entirely uneducated. But +when she took charge at our house, all her best qualities found +expression. It is true enough, <i>omnium consensu capax +imperii nisi imperasset</i>, but it is equally true that under +the pressure of trial and responsibility we are often stronger +than when there is no pressure. Many a man will acknowledge +that in difficulty he has surprised himself by a resource and +coolness which he never suspected before. Mrs. Taylor I +always thought to be rather weak and untrustworthy, but I found +that when <i>weight</i> was placed upon her, she was steady as a +rock, a systematic and a perfect manager. There was no +doubt in a very short time as to the nature of the disease. +It was typhoid fever, the cause probably being the impure water +drunk as we were coming home. I have no mind to describe +what Ellen suffered. Suffice it to say, that her treatment +was soon reduced to watching her every minute night and day, and +administering small quantities of milk. Her prostration and +emaciation were excessive, and without the most constant +attention she might at any moment have slipped out of our +hands. I was like a man shipwrecked and alone in a polar +country, whose existence depends upon one spark of fire, which he +tries to cherish, left glimmering in a handful of ashes. Oh +those days, prolonged to weeks, during which that dreadful +struggle lasted—days swallowed up with one sole, intense, +hungry desire that her life might be spared!—days filled +with a forecast of the blackness and despair before me if she +should depart. I tried to obtain release from the +office. The answer was that nobody could of course prevent +my being away, but that it was not usual for a clerk to be absent +merely because his wife was not well. The brute added with +a sneer that a wife was “a luxury” which he should +have thought I could hardly afford. We divided between us, +however, at home the twenty-four hours during which we stood +sentinels against death, and occasionally we were relieved by one +or two friends. I went on duty from about eight in the +evening till one in the morning, and was then relieved by Mrs. +Taylor, who remained till ten or eleven. She then went to +bed, and was replaced by little Marie. What a change came +over that child! I was amazed at her. All at once she +seemed to have found what she was born to do. The key had +been discovered, which unlocked and revealed what there was in +her, of which hitherto I had been altogether unaware. +Although she was so little, she became a perfect nurse. Her +levity disappeared; she was grave as a matron, moved about as if +shod in felt, never forgot a single direction, and gave proper +and womanly answers to strangers who called. Faculties +unsuspected grew almost to full height in a single day. +Never did she relax during the whole of that dreadful time, or +show the slightest sign of discontent. She sat by her +mother’s side, intent, vigilant; and she had her little +dinner prepared and taken up into the sickroom by Mrs. Taylor +before she went to bed. I remember once going to her cot in +the night, as she lay asleep, and almost breaking my heart over +her with remorse and thankfulness—remorse, that I, with +blundering stupidity, had judged her so superficially; and +thankfulness, that it had pleased God to present to me so much of +His own divinest grace. Fool that I was, not to be aware +that messages from Him are not to be read through the envelope in +which they are enclosed. I never should have believed, if +it had not been for Marie, that any grown-up man could so love a +child. Such love, I should have said, was only possible +between man and woman, or, perhaps, between man and man. +But now I doubt whether a love of that particular kind could be +felt towards any grown-up human being, love so pure, so +imperious, so awful. My love to Marie was love of God +Himself as He is—an unrestrained adoration of an efflux +from Him, adoration transfigured into love, because the +revelation had clothed itself with a child’s form. It +was, as I say, the love of God as He is. It was not +necessary, as it so often is necessary, to qualify, to subtract, +to consider the other side, to deplore the obscurity or the +earthly contamination with which the Word is delivered to +us. This was the Word itself, without even consciousness on +the part of the instrument selected for its vocalisation. I +may appear extravagant, but I can only put down what I felt and +still feel. I appeal, moreover, to Jesus Himself for +justification. I had seen the kingdom of God through a +little child. I, in fact, have done nothing more than beat +out over a page in my own words what passed through His mind when +He called a little child and set him in the midst of His +disciples. How I see the meaning of those words now! and so +it is that a text will be with us for half a lifetime, recognised +as great and good, but not penetrated till the experience comes +round to us in which it was born.</p> +<p>Six weeks passed before the faint blue point of light which +flickered on the wick began to turn white and show some +strength. At last, however, day by day, we marked a slight +accession of vitality which increased with change of diet. +Every evening when I came home I was gladdened by the tidings +which showed advance, and Ellen, I believe, was as much pleased +to see how others rejoiced over her recovery as she was pleased +for her own sake. She, too, was one of those creatures who +always generously admit improvement. For my own part, I +have often noticed that when I have been ill, and have been +getting better, I have refused to acknowledge it, and that it has +been an effort to me to say that things were not at their +worst. She, however, had none of this niggardly baseness, +and always, if only for the sake of her friends, took the +cheerful side. Mrs. Taylor now left us. She left us a +friend whose friendship will last, I hope, as long as life +lasts. She had seen all our troubles and our poverty: we +knew that she knew all about us: she had helped us with the most +precious help—what more was there necessary to knit her to +us?—and it is worth noting that the assistance which she +rendered, and her noble self-sacrifice, so far from putting us, +in her opinion, in her debt, only seemed to her a reason why she +should be more deeply attached to us.</p> +<p>It was late in the autumn before Ellen had thoroughly +recovered, but at last we said that she was as strong as she was +before, and we determined to celebrate our deliverance by one +more holiday before the cold weather came. It was again +Sunday—a perfectly still, warm, autumnal day, with a high +barometer and the gentlest of airs from the west. The +morning in London was foggy, so much so that we doubted at first +whether we should go; but my long experience of London fog told +me that we should escape from it with that wind if we got to the +chalk downs away out by Letherhead and Guildford. We took +the early train to a point at the base of the hills, and wound +our way up into the woods at the top. We were beyond the +smoke, which rested like a low black cloud over the city in the +north-east, reaching a third of the way up to the zenith. +The beech had changed colour, and glowed with reddish-brown +fire. We sat down on a floor made of the leaves of last +year. At mid-day the stillness was profound, broken only by +the softest of whispers descending from the great trees which +spread over us their protecting arms. Every now and then it +died down almost to nothing, and then slowly swelled and died +again, as if the Gods of the place were engaged in divine and +harmonious talk. By moving a little towards the external +edge of our canopy we beheld the plain all spread out before us, +bounded by the heights of Sussex and Hampshire. It was +veiled with the most tender blue, and above it was spread a sky +which was white on the horizon and deepened by degrees into azure +over our heads. The exhilaration of the air satisfied +Marie, although she had no playmate, and there was nothing +special with which she could amuse herself. She wandered +about looking for flowers and ferns, and was content. We +were all completely happy. We strained our eyes to see the +furthest point before us, and we tried to find it on the map we +had brought with us. The season of the year, which is +usually supposed to make men pensive, had no such effect upon +us. Everything in the future, even the winter in London, +was painted by Hope, and the death of the summer brought no +sadness. Rather did summer dying in such fashion fill our +hearts with repose, and even more than repose—with actual +joy.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Here ends the autobiography. A month after this last +holiday my friend was dead and buried. He had unsuspected +disease of the heart, and one day his master, of whom we have +heard something, was more than usually violent. Mark, as +his custom was, was silent, but evidently greatly excited. +His tyrant left the room; and in a few minutes afterwards Mark +was seen to turn white and fall forward in his chair. It +was all over! His body was taken to a hospital and thence +sent home. The next morning his salary up to the day of his +death came in an envelope to his widow, without a single word +from his employers save a request for acknowledgment. +Towards mid-day, his office coat, and a book found in his drawer, +arrived in a brown paper parcel, carriage unpaid.</p> +<p>On looking over his papers, I found the sketch of his life and +a mass of odds and ends, some apparently written for +publication. Many of these had evidently been in envelopes, +and had most likely, therefore, been offered to editors or +publishers, but all, I am sure, had been refused. I add one +or two by way of appendix, and hope they will be thought worth +saving.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">R. S.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><span +class="smcap">London</span></span><span class="GutSmall">: +</span><span class="GutSmall"><span class="smcap">Hodder and +Stoughton</span></span><span class="GutSmall">, 1913.</span></p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> This was written many years ago, +but is curiously pertinent to the discussions of this +year.—<span class="smcap">Editor</span>, 1884.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> Not exactly untrue, but it sounds +strangely now when socialism, nationalisation of the land, and +other projects have renewed in men the hope of regeneration by +political processes. The reader will, however, please +remember the date of these memoirs.—<span +class="smcap">Editor</span>, 1884.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5338-h.htm or 5338-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/3/5338 + + + +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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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: Mark Rutherford's Deliverance + +Author: Mark Rutherford + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5338] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 2, 2002] +[Most recently updated: July 2, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1913 Hodder and Stoughton edition by David +Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE + + + + +CHAPTER I--NEWSPAPERS + + + +When I had established myself in my new lodgings in Camden Town, I +found I had ten pounds in my pocket, and again there was no outlook. +I examined carefully every possibility. At last I remembered that a +relative of mine, who held some office in the House of Commons, added +to his income by writing descriptive accounts of the debates, +throwing in by way of supplement any stray scraps of gossip which he +was enabled to collect. The rules of the House as to the admission +of strangers were not so strict then as they are now, and he assured +me that if I could but secure a commission from a newspaper, he could +pass me into one of the galleries, and, when there was nothing to be +heard worth describing, I could remain in the lobby, where I should +by degrees find many opportunities of picking up intelligence which +would pay. So far, so good; but how to obtain the commission? I +managed to get hold of a list of all the country papers, and I wrote +to nearly every one, offering my services. I am afraid that I +somewhat exaggerated them, for I had two answers, and, after a little +correspondence, two engagements. This was an unexpected stroke of +luck; but alas! both journals circulated in the same district. I +never could get together more stuff than would fill about a column +and a half, and consequently I was obliged, with infinite pains, to +vary, so that it could not be recognised, the form of what, at +bottom, was essentially the same matter. This was work which would +have been disagreeable enough, if I had not now ceased in a great +measure to demand what was agreeable. In years past I coveted a +life, not of mere sensual enjoyment--for that I never cared--but a +life which should be filled with activities of the noblest kind, and +it was intolerable to me to reflect that all my waking hours were in +the main passed in merest drudgery, and that only for a few moments +at the beginning or end of the day could it be said that the higher +sympathies were really operative. Existence to me was nothing but +these few moments, and consequently flitted like a shadow. I was +now, however, the better of what was half disease and half something +healthy and good. In the first place, I had discovered that my +appetite was far larger than my powers. Consumed by a longing for +continuous intercourse with the best, I had no ability whatever to +maintain it, and I had accepted as a fact, however mysterious it +might be, that the human mind is created with the impulses of a +seraph and the strength of a man. Furthermore, what was I that I +should demand exceptional treatment? Thousands of men and women +superior to myself, are condemned, if that is the proper word to use, +to almost total absence from themselves. The roar of the world for +them is never lulled to rest, nor can silence ever be secured in +which the voice of the Divine can be heard. + +My letters were written twice a week, and as each contained a column +and a half, I had six columns weekly to manufacture. These I was in +the habit of writing in the morning, my evenings being spent at the +House. At first I was rather interested, but after a while the +occupation became tedious beyond measure, and for this reason. In a +discussion of any importance about fifty members perhaps would take +part, and had made up their minds beforehand to speak. There could +not possibly be more than three or four reasons for or against the +motion, and as the knowledge that what the intending orator had to +urge had been urged a dozen times before on that very night never +deterred him from urging it again, the same arguments, diluted, +muddled, and mispresented, recurred with the most wearisome +iteration. + +The public outside knew nothing or very little of the real House of +Commons, and the manner in which time was squandered there, for the +reports were all of them much abbreviated. In fact, I doubt whether +anybody but the Speaker, and one or two other persons in the same +position as myself, really felt with proper intensity what the waste +was, and how profound was the vanity of members and the itch for +expression; for even the reporters were relieved at stated intervals, +and the impression on their minds was not continuous. Another evil +result of these attendances at the House was a kind of political +scepticism. Over and over again I have seen a Government arraigned +for its conduct of foreign affairs. The evidence lay in masses of +correspondence which it would have required some days to master, and +the verdict, after knowing the facts, ought to have depended upon the +application of principles, each of which admitted a contrary +principle for which much might be pleaded. There were not fifty +members in the House with the leisure or the ability to understand +what it was which had actually happened, and if they had understood +it, they would not have had the wit to see what was the rule which +ought to have decided the case. Yet, whether they understood or not, +they were obliged to vote, and what was worse, the constituencies +also had to vote, and so the gravest matters were settled in utter +ignorance. This has often been adduced as an argument against an +extended suffrage, but, if it is an argument against anything, it is +an argument against intrusting the aristocracy and even the House +itself with the destinies of the nation; for no dock labourer could +possibly be more entirely empty of all reasons for action than the +noble lords, squires, lawyers, and railway directors whom I have seen +troop to the division bell. There is something deeper than this +scepticism, but the scepticism is the easiest and the most obvious +conclusion to an open mind dealing so closely and practically with +politics as it was my lot to do at this time of my life. Men must be +governed, and when it comes to the question, by whom? I, for one, +would far sooner in the long run trust the people at large than I +would the few, who in everything which relates to Government are as +little instructed as the many and more difficult to move. The very +fickleness of the multitude, the theme of such constant declamation, +is so far good that it proves a susceptibility to impressions to +which men hedged round by impregnable conventionalities cannot yield. +{1} + +When I was living in the country, the pure sky and the landscape +formed a large portion of my existence, so large that much of myself +depended on it, and I wondered how men could be worth anything if +they could never see the face of nature. For this belief my early +training on the "Lyrical Ballads" is answerable. When I came to +London the same creed survived, and I was for ever thirsting for +intercourse with my ancient friend. Hope, faith, and God seemed +impossible amidst the smoke of the streets. It was now very +difficult for me, except at rare opportunities, to leave London, and +it was necessary for me, therefore, to understand that all that was +essential for me was obtainable there, even though I should never see +anything more than was to be seen in journeying through the High +Street, Camden Town, Tottenham Court Road, the Seven Dials, and +Whitehall. I should have been guilty of a simple surrender to +despair if I had not forced myself to make this discovery. I cannot +help saying, with all my love for the literature of my own day, that +it has an evil side to it which none know except the millions of +sensitive persons who are condemned to exist in great towns. It +might be imagined from much of this literature that true humanity and +a belief in God are the offspring of the hills or the ocean; and by +implication, if not expressly, the vast multitudes who hardly ever +see the hills or the ocean must be without a religion. The long +poems which turn altogether upon scenery, perhaps in foreign lands, +and the passionate devotion to it which they breathe, may perhaps do +good in keeping alive in the hearts of men a determination to +preserve air, earth, and water from pollution; but speaking from +experience as a Londoner, I can testify that they are most +depressing, and I would counsel everybody whose position is what mine +was to avoid these books and to associate with those which will help +him in his own circumstances. + +Half of my occupation soon came to an end. One of my editors sent me +a petulant note telling me that all I wrote he could easily find out +himself, and that he required something more "graphic and personal." +I could do no better, or rather I ought to say, no worse than I had +been doing. These letters were a great trouble to me. I was always +conscious of writing so much of which I was not certain, and so much +which was indifferent to me. The unfairness of parties haunted me. +But I continued to write, because I saw no other way of getting a +living, and surely it is a baser dishonesty to depend upon the +charity of friends because some pleasant, clean, ideal employment has +not presented itself, than to soil one's hands with a little of the +inevitable mud. I don't think I ever felt anything more keenly than +I did a sneer from an acquaintance of mine who was in the habit of +borrowing money from me. He was a painter, whose pictures were never +sold because he never worked hard enough to know how to draw, and it +came to my ears indirectly that he had said that "he would rather +live the life of a medieval ascetic than condescend to the +degradation of scribbling a dozen columns weekly of utter trash on +subjects with which he had no concern." At that very moment he owed +me five pounds. God knows that I admitted my dozen columns to be +utter trash, but it ought to have been forgiven by those who saw that +I was struggling to save myself from the streets and to keep a roof +over my head. Degraded, however, as I might be, I could not get down +to the "graphic and personal," for it meant nothing less than the +absolutely false. I therefore contrived to exist on the one letter, +which, excepting the mechanical labour of writing a second, took up +as much of my time as if I had to write two. + +Never, but once or twice at the most, did my labours meet with the +slightest recognition beyond payment. Once I remember that I accused +a member of a discreditable manoeuvre to consume the time of the +House, and as he represented a borough in my district, he wrote to +the editor denying the charge. The editor without any inquiry--and I +believe I was mistaken--instantly congratulated me on having +"scored." At another time, when Parliament was not sitting, I +ventured, by way of filling up my allotted space, to say a word on +behalf of a now utterly forgotten novel. I had a letter from the +authoress thanking me, but alas! the illusion vanished. I was +tempted by this one novel to look into others which I found she had +written, and I discovered that they were altogether silly. The +attraction of the one of which I thought so highly, was due not to +any real merit which it possessed, but to something I had put into +it. It was dead, but it had served as a wall to re-echo my own +voice. Excepting these two occasions, I don't think that one +solitary human being ever applauded or condemned one solitary word of +which I was the author. All my friends knew where my contributions +were to be found, but I never heard that they looked at them. They +were never worth reading, and yet such complete silence was rather +lonely. The tradesman who makes a good coat enjoys the satisfaction +of having fitted and pleased his customer, and a bricklayer, if he be +diligent, is rewarded by knowing that his master understands his +value, but I never knew what it was to receive a single response. I +wrote for an abstraction; and spoke to empty space. I cannot help +claiming some pity and even respect for the class to which I +belonged. I have heard them called all kinds of hard names, hacks, +drudges, and something even more contemptible, but the injustice done +to them is monstrous. Their wage is hardly earned; it is peculiarly +precarious, depending altogether upon their health, and no matter how +ill they may be they must maintain the liveliness of manner which is +necessary to procure acceptance. I fell in with one poor fellow +whose line was something like my own. I became acquainted with him +through sitting side by side with him at the House. He lived in +lodgings in Goodge Street, and occasionally I walked with him as far +as the corner of Tottenham Court Road, where I caught the last +omnibus northward. He wrote like me a "descriptive article" for the +country, but he also wrote every now and then--a dignity to which I +never attained--a "special" for London. His "descriptive articles" +were more political than mine, and he was obliged to be violently +Tory. His creed, however, was such a pure piece of professionalism, +that though I was Radical, and was expected to be so, we never +jarred, and often, as we wandered homewards, we exchanged notes, and +were mutually useful, his observations appearing in my paper, and +mine in his, with proper modifications. How he used to roar in the +Gazette against the opposite party, and yet I never heard anything +from him myself but what was diffident and tender. He had acquired, +as an instrument necessary to him, an extraordinarily extravagant +style, and he laid about him with a bludgeon, which inevitably +descended on the heads of all prominent persons if they happened not +to be Conservative, no matter what their virtues might be. One +peculiarity, however, I noted in him. Although he ought every now +and then, when the subject was uppermost, to have flamed out in the +Gazette on behalf of the Church, I never saw a word from him on that +subject. He drew the line at religion. He did not mind acting his +part in things secular, for his performances were, I am sure, mostly +histrionic, but there he stopped. The unreality of his character was +a husk surrounding him, but it did not touch the core. It was as if +he had said to himself, "Political controversy is nothing to me, and, +what is more, is so uncertain that it matters little whether I say +yes or no, nor indeed does it matter if I say yes AND no, and I must +keep my wife and children from the workhouse; but when it comes to +the relationship of man to God, it is a different matter." His +altogether outside vehemence and hypocrisy did in fact react upon +him, and so far from affecting harmfully what lay deeper, produced a +more complete sincerity and transparency extending even to the finest +verbal distinctions. Over and over again have I heard him preach to +his wife, almost with pathos, the duty of perfect exactitude in +speech in describing the commonest occurrences. "Now, my dear, IS +that so?" was a perpetual remonstrance with him; and he always +insisted upon it that there is no training more necessary for +children than that of teaching them not merely to speak the truth in +the ordinary, vulgar sense of the term, but to speak it in a much +higher sense, by rigidly compelling, point by point, a correspondence +of the words with the fact external or internal. He never would +tolerate in his own children a mere hackneyed, borrowed expression, +but demanded exact portraiture; and nothing vexed him more than to +hear one of them spoil and make worthless what he or she had seen, by +reporting it in some stale phrase which had been used by everybody. +This refusal to take the trouble to watch the presentment to the mind +of anything which had been placed before it, and to reproduce it in +its own lines and colours was, as he said, nothing but falsehood, and +he maintained that the principal reason why people are so +uninteresting is not that they have nothing to say. It is rather +that they will not face the labour of saying in their own tongue what +they have to say, but cover it up and conceal it in commonplace, so +that we get, not what they themselves behold and what they think, but +a hieroglyphic or symbol invented as the representative of a certain +class of objects or emotions, and as inefficient to represent a +particular object or emotion as x or y to set forth the relation of +Hamlet to Ophelia. He would even exercise his children in this art +of the higher truthfulness, and would purposely make them give him an +account of something which he had seen and they had seen, checking +them the moment he saw a lapse from originality. Such was the Tory +correspondent of the Gazette. + +I ought to say, by way of apology for him, that in his day it +signified little or nothing whether Tory or Whig was in power. +Politics had not become what they will one day become, a matter of +life or death, dividing men with really private love and hate. What +a mockery controversy was in the House! How often I have seen +members, who were furious at one another across the floor, quietly +shaking hands outside, and inviting one another to dinner! I have +heard them say that we ought to congratulate ourselves that +parliamentary differences do not in this country breed personal +animosities. To me this seemed anything but a subject of +congratulation. Men who are totally at variance ought not to be +friends, and if Radical and Tory are not totally, but merely +superficially at variance, so much the worse for their Radicalism and +Toryism. + +It is possible, and even probable, that the public fury and the +subsequent amity were equally absurd. Most of us have no real loves +and no real hatreds. Blessed is love, less blessed is hatred, but +thrice accursed is that indifference which is neither one nor the +other, the muddy mess which men call friendship. + +M'Kay--for that was his name--lived, as I have said, in Goodge +Street, where he had unfurnished apartments. I often spent part of +the Sunday with him, and I may forestall obvious criticism by saying +that I do not pretend for a moment to defend myself from +inconsistency in denouncing members of Parliament for their +duplicity, M'Kay and myself being also guilty of something very much +like it. But there was this difference between us and our +parliamentary friends, that we always divested ourselves of all +hypocrisy when we were alone. We then dropped the stage costume +which members continued to wear in the streets and at the dinner- +table, and in which some of them even slept and said their prayers. + +London Sundays to persons who are not attached to any religious +community, and have no money to spend, are rather dreary. We tried +several ways of getting through the morning. If we heard that there +was a preacher with a reputation, we went to hear him. As a rule, +however, we got no good in that way. Once we came to a chapel where +there was a minister supposed to be one of the greatest orators of +the day. We had much difficulty in finding standing room. Just as +we entered we heard him say, "My friends, I appeal to those of you +who are parents. You know that if you say to a child 'go,' he goeth, +and if you say 'come,' he cometh. So the Lord"--But at this point +M'Kay, who had children, nudged me to come out; and out we went. Why +does this little scene remain with me? I can hardly say, but here it +stands. It is remembered, not so much by reason of the preacher as +by reason of the apparent acquiescence and admiration of the +audience, who seemed to be perfectly willing to take over an +experience from their pastor--if indeed it was really an experience-- +which was not their own. Our usual haunts on Sunday were naturally +the parks and Kensington Gardens; but artificial limited enclosures +are apt to become wearisome after a time, and we longed for a little +more freedom if a little less trim. So we would stroll towards +Hampstead or Highgate, the only drawback to these regions being the +squalid, ragged, half town, half suburb, through which it was +necessary to pass. The skirts of London when the air is filled with +north-easterly soot, grit, and filth, are cheerless, and the least +cheerful part of the scene is the inability of the vast wandering +masses of people to find any way of amusing themselves. At the +corner of one of the fields in Kentish Town, just about to be +devoured, stood a public-house, and opposite the door was generally +encamped a man who sold nothing but Brazil nuts. Swarms of people +lazily wandered past him, most of them waiting for the public-house +to open. Brazil nuts on a cold black Sunday morning are not +exhilarating, but the costermonger found many customers who bought +his nuts, and ate them, merely because they had nothing better to do. +We went two or three times to a freethinking hall, where we were +entertained with demonstrations of the immorality of the patriarchs +and Jewish heroes, and arguments to prove that the personal existence +of the devil was a myth, the audience breaking out into uproarious +laughter at comical delineations of Noah and Jonah. One morning we +found the place completely packed. A "celebrated Christian," as he +was described to us, having heard of the hall, had volunteered to +engage in debate on the claims of the Old Testament to Divine +authority. He turned out to be a preacher whom we knew quite well. +He was introduced by his freethinking antagonist, who claimed for him +a respectful hearing. The preacher said that before beginning he +should like to "engage in prayer." Accordingly he came to the front +of the platform, lifted up his eyes, told God why he was there, and +besought Him to bless the discussion in the conversion "of these poor +wandering souls, who have said in their hearts that there is no God, +to a saving faith in Him and in the blood of Christ." I expected +that some resentment would be displayed when the wandering souls +found themselves treated like errant sheep, but to my surprise they +listened with perfect silence; and when he had said "Amen," there +were great clappings of hands, and cries of "Bravo." They evidently +considered the prayer merely as an elocutionary show-piece. The +preacher was much disconcerted, but he recovered himself, and began +his sermon, for it was nothing more. He enlarged on the fact that +men of the highest eminence had believed in the Old Testament. Locke +and Newton had believed in it, and did it not prove arrogance in us +to doubt when the "gigantic intellect which had swept the skies, and +had announced the law which bound the universe together was +satisfied?" The witness of the Old Testament to the New was another +argument, but his main reliance was upon the prophecies. From Adam +to Isaiah there was a continuous prefigurement of Christ. Christ was +the point to which everything tended; and "now, my friends," he said, +"I cannot sit down without imploring you to turn your eyes on Him who +never yet repelled the sinner, to wash in that eternal Fountain ever +open for the remission of sins, and to flee from the wrath to come. +I believe the sacred symbol of the cross has not yet lost its +efficacy. For eighteen hundred years, whenever it has been exhibited +to the sons of men, it has been potent to reclaim and save them. 'I, +if I be lifted up,' cried the Great Sufferer, 'will draw all men unto +Me,' and He has drawn not merely the poor and ignorant but the +philosopher and the sage. Oh, my brethren, think what will happen if +you reject Him. I forbear to paint your doom. And think again, on +the other hand, of the bliss which awaits you if you receive Him, of +the eternal companionship with the Most High and with the spirits of +just men made perfect." His hearers again applauded vigorously, and +none less so than their appointed leader, who was to follow on the +other side. He was a little man with small eyes; his shaven face was +dark with a black beard lurking under the skin, and his nose was +slightly turned up. He was evidently a trained debater who had +practised under railway arches, discussion "forums," and in the +classes promoted by his sect. He began by saying that he could not +compliment his friend who had just sat down on the inducements which +he had offered them to become Christians. The New Cut was not a nice +place on a wet day, but he had rather sit at a stall there all day +long with his feet on a basket than lie in the bosom of some of the +just men made perfect portrayed in the Bible. Nor, being married, +should he feel particularly at ease if he had to leave his wife with +David. David certainly ought to have got beyond all that kind of +thing, considering it must be over 3000 years since he first saw +Bathsheba; but we are told that the saints are for ever young in +heaven, and this treacherous villain, who would have been tried by a +jury of twelve men and hung outside Newgate if he had lived in the +nineteenth century, might be dangerous now. He was an amorous old +gentleman up to the very last. (Roars of laughter.) Nor did the +speaker feel particularly anxious to be shut up with all the bishops, +who of course are amongst the elect, and on their departure from this +vale of tears tempered by ten thousand a year, are duly supplied with +wings. Much more followed in the same strain upon the immorality of +the Bible heroes, their cruelty, and the cruelty of the God who +sanctioned it. Then followed a clever exposition of the +inconsistencies of the Old Testament history, the impossibility of +any reference to Jesus therein, and a really earnest protest against +the quibbling by which those who believed in the Bible as a +revelation sought to reconcile it with science. "Finally," said the +speaker, "I am sure we all of us will pass a vote of thanks to our +reverend friend for coming to see us, and we cordially invite him to +come again. If I might be allowed to offer a suggestion, it would be +that he should make himself acquainted with our case before he pays +us another visit, and not suppose that we are to be persuaded with +the rhetoric which may do very well for the young women of his +congregation, but won't go down here." This was fair and just, for +the eminent Christian was nothing but an ordinary minister, who, when +he was prepared for his profession, had never been allowed to see +what are the historical difficulties of Christianity, lest he should +be overcome by them. On the other hand, his sceptical opponents were +almost devoid of the faculty for appreciating the great remains of +antiquity, and would probably have considered the machinery of the +Prometheus Bound or of the Iliad a sufficient reason for a sneer. +That they should spend their time in picking the Bible to pieces when +there was so much positive work for them to do, seemed to me as +melancholy as if they had spent themselves upon theology. To waste a +Sunday morning in ridiculing such stories as that of Jonah was surely +as imbecile as to waste it in proving their verbal veracity. + + + +CHAPTER II--M'KAY + + + +It was foggy and overcast as we walked home to Goodge Street. The +churches and chapels were emptying themselves, but the great mass of +the population had been "nowhere." I had dinner with M'Kay, and as +the day wore on the fog thickened. London on a dark Sunday +afternoon, more especially about Goodge Street, is depressing. The +inhabitants drag themselves hither and thither in languor and +uncertainty. Small mobs loiter at the doors of the gin palaces. +Costermongers wander aimlessly, calling "walnuts" with a cry so +melancholy that it sounds as the wail of the hopelessly lost may be +imagined to sound when their anguish has been deadened by the +monotony of a million years. + +About two or three o'clock decent working men in their best clothes +emerge from the houses in such streets as Nassau Street. It is part +of their duty to go out after dinner on Sunday with the wife and +children. The husband pushes the perambulator out of the dingy +passage, and gazes doubtfully this way and that way, not knowing +whither to go, and evidently longing for the Monday, when his work, +however disagreeable it may be, will be his plain duty. The wife +follows carrying a child, and a boy and girl in unaccustomed apparel +walk by her side. They come out into Mortimer Street. There are no +shops open; the sky over their heads is mud, the earth is mud under +their feet, the muddy houses stretch in long rows, black, gaunt, +uniform. The little party reach Hyde Park, also wrapped in +impenetrable mud-grey. The man's face brightens for a moment as he +says, "It is time to go back," and so they return, without the +interchange of a word, unless perhaps they happen to see an omnibus +horse fall down on the greasy stones. What is there worth thought or +speech on such an expedition? Nothing! The tradesman who kept the +oil and colour establishment opposite to us was not to be tempted +outside. It was a little more comfortable than Nassau Street, and, +moreover, he was religious and did not encourage Sabbath-breaking. +He and his family always moved after their mid-day Sabbath repast +from the little back room behind the shop up to what they called the +drawing-room overhead. It was impossible to avoid seeing them every +time we went to the window. The father of the family, after his +heavy meal, invariably sat in the easy-chair with a handkerchief over +his eyes and slept. The children were always at the windows, +pretending to read books, but in reality watching the people below. +At about four o'clock their papa generally awoke, and demanded a +succession of hymn tunes played on the piano. When the weather +permitted, the lower sash was opened a little, and the neighbours +were indulged with the performance of "Vital Spark," the father +"coming in" now and then with a bass note or two at the end where he +was tolerably certain of the harmony. At five o'clock a prophecy of +the incoming tea brought us some relief from the contemplation of the +landscape or brick-scape. I say "some relief," for meals at M'Kay's +were a little disagreeable. His wife was an honest, good little +woman, but so much attached to him and so dependent on him that she +was his mere echo. She had no opinions which were not his, and +whenever he said anything which went beyond the ordinary affairs of +the house, she listened with curious effort, and generally responded +by a weakened repetition of M'Kay's own observations. He +perpetually, therefore, had before him an enfeebled reflection of +himself, and this much irritated him, notwithstanding his love for +her; for who could help loving a woman who, without the least +hesitation, would have opened her veins at his command, and have +given up every drop of blood in her body for him? Over and over +again I have heard him offer some criticism on a person or event, and +the customary chime of approval would ensue, provoking him to such a +degree that he would instantly contradict himself with much +bitterness, leaving poor Mrs. M'Kay in much perplexity. Such a shot +as this generally reduced her to timid silence. As a rule, he always +discouraged any topic at his house which was likely to serve as an +occasion for showing his wife's dependence on him. He designedly +talked about her household affairs, asked her whether she had mended +his clothes and ordered the coals. She knew that these things were +not what was upon his mind, and she answered him in despairing tones, +which showed how much she felt the obtrusive condescension to her +level. I greatly pitied her, and sometimes, in fact, my emotion at +the sight of her struggles with her limitations almost overcame me +and I was obliged to get up and go. She was childishly affectionate. +If M'Kay came in and happened to go up to her and kiss her, her face +brightened into the sweetest and happiest smile. I recollect once +after he had been unusually annoyed with her he repented just as he +was leaving home, and put his lips to her head, holding it in both +his hands. I saw her gently take the hand from her forehead and +press it to her mouth, the tears falling down her cheek meanwhile. +Nothing would ever tempt her to admit anything against her husband. +M'Kay was violent and unjust at times. His occupation he hated, and +his restless repugnance to it frequently discharged itself +indifferently upon everything which came in his way. His children +often thought him almost barbarous, but in truth he did not actually +see them when he was in one of these moods. What was really present +with him, excluding everything else, was the sting of something more +than usually repulsive of which they knew nothing. Mrs. M'Kay's +answer to her children's remonstrances when they were alone with her +always was, "He is so worried," and she invariably dwelt upon their +faults which had given him the opportunity for his wrath. + +I think M'Kay's treatment of her wholly wrong. I think that he ought +not to have imposed himself upon her so imperiously. I think he +ought to have striven to ascertain what lay concealed in that modest +heart, to have encouraged its expression and development, to have +debased himself before her that she might receive courage to rise, +and he would have found that she had something which he had not; not +HIS something perhaps, but something which would have made his life +happier. As it was, he stood upon his own ground above her. If she +could reach him, well and good, if not, the helping hand was not +proffered, and she fell back, hopeless. Later on he discovered his +mistake. She became ill very gradually, and M'Kay began to see in +the distance a prospect of losing her. A frightful pit came in view. +He became aware that he could not do without her. He imagined what +his home would have been with other women whom he knew, and he +confessed that with them he would have been less contented. He +acknowledged that he had been guilty of a kind of criminal epicurism; +that he rejected in foolish, fatal, nay, even wicked indifference, +the bread of life upon which he might have lived and thriven. His +whole effort now was to suppress himself in his wife. He read to +her, a thing he never did before, and when she misunderstood, he +patiently explained; he took her into his counsels and asked her +opinion; he abandoned his own opinion for hers, and in the presence +of her children he always deferred to her, and delighted to +acknowledge that she knew more than he did, that she was right and he +was wrong. She was now confined to her house, and the end was near, +but this was the most blessed time of her married life. She grew +under the soft rain of his loving care, and opened out, not, indeed, +into an oriental flower, rich in profound mystery of scent and +colour, but into a blossom of the chalk-down. Altogether concealed +and closed she would have remained if it had not been for this +beneficent and heavenly gift poured upon her. He had just time +enough to see what she really was, and then she died. There are some +natures that cannot unfold under pressure or in the presence of +unregarding power. Hers was one. They require a clear space round +them, the removal of everything which may overmaster them, and +constant delicate attention. They require too a recognition of the +fact, which M'Kay for a long time did not recognise, that it is folly +to force them and to demand of them that they shall be what they +cannot be. I stood by the grave this morning of my poor, pale, +clinging little friend now for some years at peace, and I thought +that the tragedy of Promethean torture or Christ-like crucifixion may +indeed be tremendous, but there is a tragedy too in the existence of +a soul like hers, conscious of its feebleness and ever striving to +overpass it, ever aware that it is an obstacle to the return of the +affection of the man whom she loves. + +Meals, as I have said, were disagreeable at M'Kay's, and when we +wanted to talk we went out of doors. The evening after our visit to +the debating hall we moved towards Portland Place, and walked up and +down there for an hour or more. M'Kay had a passionate desire to +reform the world. The spectacle of the misery of London, and of the +distracted swaying hither and thither of the multitudes who inhabit +it, tormented him incessantly. He always chafed at it, and he never +seemed sure that he had a right to the enjoyment of the simplest +pleasures so long as London was before him. What a farce, he would +cry, is all this poetry, philosophy, art, and culture, when millions +of wretched mortals are doomed to the eternal darkness and crime of +the city! Here are the educated classes occupying themselves with +exquisite emotions, with speculations upon the Infinite, with +addresses to flowers, with the worship of waterfalls and flying +clouds, and with the incessant portraiture of a thousand moods and +variations of love, while their neighbours lie grovelling in the +mire, and never know anything more of life or its duties than is +afforded them by a police report in a bit of newspaper picked out of +the kennel. We went one evening to hear a great violin-player, who +played such music, and so exquisitely, that the limits of life were +removed. But we had to walk up the Haymarket home, between eleven +and twelve o'clock, and the violin-playing became the merest +trifling. M'Kay had been brought up upon the Bible. He had before +him, not only there, but in the history of all great religious +movements, a record of the improvement of the human race, or of large +portions of it, not merely by gradual civilisation, but by +inspiration spreading itself suddenly. He could not get it out of +his head that something of this kind is possible again in our time. +He longed to try for himself in his own poor way in one of the slums +about Drury Lane. I sympathised with him, but I asked him what he +had to say. I remember telling him that I had been into St. Paul's +Cathedral, and that I pictured to myself the cathedral full, and +myself in the pulpit. I was excited while imagining the opportunity +offered me of delivering some message to three or four thousand +persons in such a building, but in a minute or two I discovered that +my sermon would be very nearly as follows: "Dear friends, I know no +more than you know; we had better go home." I admitted to him that +if he could believe in hell-fire, or if he could proclaim the Second +Advent, as Paul did to the Thessalonians, and get people to believe, +he might change their manners, but otherwise he could do nothing but +resort to a much slower process. With the departure of a belief in +the supernatural departs once and for ever the chance of regenerating +the race except by the school and by science. {2} However, M'Kay +thought he would try. His earnestness was rather a hindrance than a +help to him, for it prevented his putting certain important questions +to himself, or at any rate it prevented his waiting for distinct +answers. He recurred to the apostles and Bunyan, and was convinced +that it was possible even now to touch depraved men and women with an +idea which should recast their lives. So it is that the main +obstacle to our success is a success which has preceded us. We +instinctively follow the antecedent form, and consequently we either +pass by, or deny altogether, the life of our own time, because its +expression has changed. We never do practically believe that the +Messiah is not incarnated twice in the same flesh. He came as Jesus, +and we look for Him as Jesus now, overlooking the manifestation of +to-day, and dying, perhaps, without recognising it. + +M'Kay had found a room near Parker Street, Drury Lane, in which he +proposed to begin, and that night, as we trod the pavement of +Portland Place, he propounded his plans to me, I listening without +much confidence, but loth nevertheless to take the office of Time +upon myself, and to disprove what experience would disprove more +effectually. His object was nothing less than gradually to attract +Drury Lane to come and be saved. + +The first Sunday I went with him to the room. As we walked over the +Drury Lane gratings of the cellars a most foul stench came up, and +one in particular I remember to this day. A man half dressed pushed +open a broken window beneath us, just as we passed by, and there +issued such a blast of corruption, made up of gases bred by filth, +air breathed and rebreathed a hundred times, charged with odours of +unnameable personal uncleanness and disease, that I staggered to the +gutter with a qualm which I could scarcely conquer. At the doors of +the houses stood grimy women with their arms folded and their hair +disordered. Grimier boys and girls had tied a rope to broken +railings, and were swinging on it. The common door to a score of +lodgings stood ever open, and the children swarmed up and down the +stairs carrying with them patches of mud every time they came in from +the street. The wholesome practice which amongst the decent poor +marks off at least one day in the week as a day on which there is to +be a change; when there is to be some attempt to procure order and +cleanliness; a day to be preceded by soap and water, by shaving, and +by as many clean clothes as can be procured, was unknown here. There +was no break in the uniformity of squalor; nor was it even possible +for any single family to emerge amidst such altogether suppressive +surroundings. All self-respect, all effort to do anything more than +to satisfy somehow the grossest wants, had departed. The shops were +open; most of them exhibiting a most miscellaneous collection of +goods, such as bacon cut in slices, fire-wood, a few loaves of bread, +and sweetmeats in dirty bottles. Fowls, strange to say, black as the +flagstones, walked in and out of these shops, or descended into the +dark areas. The undertaker had not put up his shutters. He had +drawn down a yellow blind, on which was painted a picture of a +suburban cemetery. Two funerals, the loftiest effort of his craft, +were depicted approaching the gates. When the gas was alight behind +the blind, an effect was produced which was doubtless much admired. +He also displayed in his window a model coffin, a work of art. It +was about a foot long, varnished, studded with little brass nails, +and on the lid was fastened a rustic cross stretching from end to +end. The desire to decorate existence in some way or other with more +or less care is nearly universal. The most sensual and the meanest +almost always manifest an indisposition to be content with mere +material satisfaction. I have known selfish, gluttonous, drunken men +spend their leisure moments in trimming a bed of scarlet geraniums, +and the vulgarest and most commonplace of mortals considers it a +necessity to put a picture in the room or an ornament on the +mantelpiece. The instinct, even in its lowest forms, is divine. It +is the commentary on the text that man shall not live by bread alone. +It is evidence of an acknowledged compulsion--of which art is the +highest manifestation--to ESCAPE. In the alleys behind Drury Lane +this instinct, the very salt of life, was dead, crushed out utterly, +a symptom which seemed to me ominous, and even awful to the last +degree. The only house in which it survived was in that of the +undertaker, who displayed the willows, the black horses, and the +coffin. These may have been nothing more than an advertisement, but +from the care with which the cross was elaborated, and the neatness +with which it was made to resemble a natural piece of wood, I am +inclined to believe that the man felt some pleasure in his work for +its own sake, and that he was not utterly submerged. The cross in +such dens as these, or, worse than dens, in such sewers! If it be +anything, it is a symbol of victory, of power to triumph over +resistance, and even death. Here was nothing but sullen subjugation, +the most grovelling slavery, mitigated only by a tendency to mutiny. +Here was a strength of circumstance to quell and dominate which +neither Jesus nor Paul could have overcome--worse a thousandfold than +Scribes or Pharisees, or any form of persecution. The preaching of +Jesus would have been powerless here; in fact, no known stimulus, +nothing ever held up before men to stir the soul to activity, can do +anything in the back streets of great cities so long as they are the +cesspools which they are now. + +We came to the room. About a score of M'Kay's own friends were +there, and perhaps half-a-dozen outsiders, attracted by the notice +which had been pasted on a board at the entrance. M'Kay announced +his errand. The ignorance and misery of London he said were +intolerable to him. He could not take any pleasure in life when he +thought upon them. What could he do? that was the question. He was +not a man of wealth. He could not buy up these hovels. He could not +force an entrance into them and persuade their inhabitants to improve +themselves. He had no talents wherewith to found a great +organisation or create public opinion. He had determined, after much +thought, to do what he was now doing. It was very little, but it was +all he could undertake. He proposed to keep this room open as a +place to which those who wished might resort at different times, and +find some quietude, instruction, and what fortifying thoughts he +could collect to enable men to endure their almost unendurable +sufferings. He did not intend to teach theology. Anything which +would be serviceable he would set forth, but in the main he intended +to rely on holding up the examples of those who were greater than +ourselves and were our redeemers. He meant to teach Christ in the +proper sense of the word. Christ now is admired probably more than +He had ever been. Everybody agrees to admire Him, but where are the +people who really do what He did? There is no religion now-a-days. +Religion is a mere literature. Cultivated persons sit in their +studies and write overflowingly about Jesus, or meet at parties and +talk about Him; but He is not of much use to me unless I say to +myself, HOW IS IT WITH THEE? unless I myself become what He was. +This was the meaning of Jesus to the Apostle Paul. Jesus was in him; +he had put on Jesus; that is to say, Jesus lived in him like a second +soul, taking the place of his own soul and directing him accordingly. +That was religion, and it is absurd to say that the English nation at +this moment, or any section of it, is religious. Its educated +classes are inhabited by a hundred minds. We are in a state of +anarchy, each of us with a different aim and shaping himself +according to a different type; while the uneducated classes are +entirely given over to the "natural man." He was firmly persuaded +that we need religion, poor and rich alike. We need some controlling +influence to bind together our scattered energies. We do not know +what we are doing. We read one book one day and another book another +day, but it is idle wandering to right and left; it is not advancing +on a straight road. It is not possible to bind ourselves down to a +certain defined course, but still it is an enormous, an incalculable +advantage for us to have some irreversible standard set up in us by +which everything we meet is to be judged. That is the meaning of the +prophecy--whether it will ever be fulfilled God only knows--that +Christ shall judge the world. All religions have been this. They +have said that in the midst of the infinitely possible--infinitely +possible evil and infinitely possible good too--we become distracted. +A thousand forces good and bad act upon us. It is necessary, if we +are to be men, if we are to be saved, that we should be rescued from +this tumult, and that our feet should be planted upon a path. His +object, therefore, would be to preach Christ, as before said, and to +introduce into human life His unifying influence. He would try and +get them to see things with the eyes of Christ, to love with His +love, to judge with His judgment. He believed Christ was fitted to +occupy this place. He deliberately chose Christ as worthy to be our +central, shaping force. He would try by degrees to prove this; to +prove that Christ's way of dealing with life is the best way, and so +to create a genuinely Christian spirit, which, when any choice of +conduct is presented to us, will prompt us to ask first of all, HOW +WOULD CHRIST HAVE IT? or, when men and things pass before us, will +decide through him what we have to say about them. M'Kay added that +he hoped his efforts would not be confined to talking. He trusted to +be able, by means of this little meeting, gradually to gain +admittance for himself and his friends into the houses of the poor +and do some practical good. At present he had no organisation and no +plans. He did not believe in organisation and plans preceding a +clear conception of what was to be accomplished. Such, as nearly as +I can now recollect, is an outline of his discourse. It was +thoroughly characteristic of him. He always talked in this fashion. +He was for ever insisting on the aimlessness of modern life, on the +powerlessness of its vague activities to mould men into anything +good, to restrain them from evil or moderate their passions, and he +was possessed by a vision of a new Christianity which was to take the +place of the old and dead theologies. I have reported him in my own +language. He strove as much as he could to make his meaning plain to +everybody. Just before he finished, three or four out of the half-a- +dozen outsiders who were present whistled with all their might and +ran down the stairs shouting to one another. As we went out they had +collected about the door, and amused themselves by pushing one +another against us, and kicking an old kettle behind us and amongst +us all the way up the street, so that we were covered with splashes. +Mrs. M'Kay went with us, and when we reached home, she tried to say +something about what she had heard. The cloud came over her +husband's face at once; he remained silent for a minute, and getting +up and going to the window, observed that it ought to be cleaned, and +that he could hardly see the opposite house. The poor woman looked +distressed, and I was just about to come to her rescue by continuing +what she had been saying, when she rose, not in anger, but in +trouble, and went upstairs. + + + +CHAPTER III--MISS LEROY + + + +During the great French war there were many French prisoners in my +native town. They led a strange isolated life, for they knew nothing +of our language, nor, in those days, did three people in the town +understand theirs. The common soldiers amused themselves by making +little trifles and selling them. I have now before me a box of +coloured straw with the date 1799 on the bottom, which was bought by +my grandfather. One of these prisoners was an officer named Leroy. +Why he did not go back to France I never heard, but I know that +before I was born he was living near our house on a small income; +that he tried to teach French, and that he had as his companion a +handsome daughter who grew up speaking English. What she was like +when she was young I cannot say, but I have had her described to me +over and over again. She had rather darkish brown hair, and she was +tall and straight as an arrow. This she was, by the way, even into +old age. She surprised, shocked, and attracted all the sober persons +in our circle. Her ways were not their ways. She would walk out by +herself on a starry night without a single companion, and cause +thereby infinite talk, which would have converged to a single focus +if it had not happened that she was also in the habit of walking out +at four o'clock on a summer's morning, and that in the church porch +of a little village not far from us, which was her favourite resting- +place, a copy of the De Imitatione Christi was found which belonged +to her. So the talk was scattered again and its convergence +prevented. She used to say doubtful things about love. One of them +struck my mother with horror. Miss Leroy told a male person once, +and told him to his face, that if she loved him and he loved her, and +they agreed to sign one another's foreheads with a cross as a +ceremony, it would be as good to her as marriage. This may seem a +trifle, but nobody now can imagine what was thought of it at the time +it was spoken. My mother repeated it every now and then for fifty +years. It may be conjectured how easily any other girls of our +acquaintance would have been classified, and justly classified, if +they had uttered such barefaced Continental immorality. Miss Leroy's +neighbours were remarkably apt at classifying their fellow-creatures. +They had a few, a very few holes, into which they dropped their +neighbours, and they must go into one or the other. Nothing was more +distressing than a specimen which, notwithstanding all the violence +which might be used to it, would not fit into a hole, but remained an +exception. Some lout, I believe, reckoning on the legitimacy of his +generalisation, and having heard of this and other observations +accredited to Miss Leroy, ventured to be slightly rude to her. What +she said to him was never known, but he was always shy afterwards of +mentioning her name, and when he did he was wont to declare that she +was "a rum un." She was not particular, I have heard, about personal +tidiness, and this I can well believe, for she was certainly not +distinguished when I knew her for this virtue. She cared nothing for +the linen-closet, the spotless bed-hangings, and the bright poker, +which were the true household gods of the respectable women of those +days. She would have been instantly set down as "slut," and as +having "nasty dirty forrin ways," if a peculiar habit of hers had not +unfortunately presented itself, most irritating to her critics, so +anxious promptly to gratify their philosophic tendency towards +scientific grouping. Mrs. Mobbs, who lived next door to her, averred +that she always slept with the window open. Mrs. Mobbs, like +everybody else, never opened her window except to "air the room." +Mrs. Mobbs' best bedroom was carpeted all over, and contained a great +four-post bedstead, hung round with heavy hangings, and protected at +the top from draughts by a kind of firmament of white dimity. Mrs. +Mobbs stuffed a sack of straw up the chimney of the fireplace, to +prevent the fall of the "sutt," as she called it. Mrs. Mobbs, if she +had a visitor, gave her a hot supper, and expected her immediately +afterwards to go upstairs, draw the window curtains, get into this +bed, draw the bed curtains also, and wake up the next morning +"bilious." This was the proper thing to do. Miss Leroy's sitting- +room was decidedly disorderly; the chairs were dusty; "yer might +write yer name on the table," Mrs. Mobbs declared; but, nevertheless, +the casement was never closed night nor day; and, moreover, Miss +Leroy was believed by the strongest circumstantial evidence to wash +herself all over every morning, a habit which Mrs. Mobbs thought +"weakening," and somehow connected with ethical impropriety. When +Miss Leroy was married, and first as an elderly woman became known to +me, she was very inconsequential in her opinions, or at least +appeared so to our eyes. She must have been much more so when she +was younger. In our town we were all formed upon recognised +patterns, and those who possessed any one mark of the pattern, had +all. The wine-merchant, for example, who went to church, eminently +respectable, Tory, by no means associating with the tradesfolk who +displayed their goods in the windows, knowing no "experience," and +who had never felt the outpouring of the Spirit, was a specimen of a +class like him. Another class was represented by the dissenting +ironmonger, deacon, presiding at prayer-meetings, strict Sabbatarian, +and believer in eternal punishments; while a third was set forth by +"Guffy," whose real name was unknown, who got drunk, unloaded barges, +assisted at the municipal elections, and was never once seen inside a +place of worship. These patterns had existed amongst us from the +dimmest antiquity, and were accepted as part of the eternal order of +things; so much so, that the deacon, although he professed to be sure +that nobody who had not been converted would escape the fire--and the +wine-merchant certainly had not been converted--was very far from +admitting to himself that the wine-merchant ought to be converted, or +that it would be proper to try and convert him. I doubt, indeed, +whether our congregation would have been happy, or would have thought +any the better of him, if he had left the church. Such an event, +however, could no more come within the reach of our vision than a +reversal of the current of our river. It would have broken up our +foundations and party-walls, and would have been considered as +ominous, and anything but a subject for thankfulness. But Miss Leroy +was not the wine-merchant, nor the ironmonger, nor Guffy, and even +now I cannot trace the hidden centre of union from which sprang so +much that was apparently irreconcilable. She was a person whom +nobody could have created in writing a novel, because she was so +inconsistent. As I have said before, she studied Thomas a Kempis, +and her little French Bible was brown with constant use. But then +she read much fiction in which there were scenes which would have +made our hair stand on end. The only thing she constantly abhorred +in books was what was dull and opaque. Yet, as we shall see +presently, her dislike to dulness, once at least in her life, notably +failed her. She was not Catholic, and professed herself Protestant, +but such a Protestantism! She had no sceptical doubts. She believed +implicitly that the Bible was the Word of God, and that everything in +it was true, but her interpretation of it was of the strangest kind. +Almost all our great doctrines seemed shrunk to nothing in her eyes, +while others, which were nothing to us, were all-important to her. +The atonement, for instance, I never heard her mention, but +Unitarianism was hateful to her, and Jesus was her God in every sense +of the word. On the other hand, she was partly Pagan, for she knew +very little of that consideration for the feeble, and even for the +foolish, which is the glory of Christianity. She was rude to foolish +people, and she instinctively kept out of the way of all disease and +weakness, so that in this respect she was far below the commonplace +tradesman's wife, who visited the sick, sat up with them, and, in +fact, never seemed so completely in her element as when she could be +with anybody who was ill in bed. + +Miss Leroy's father was republican, and so was my grandfather. My +grandfather and old Leroy were the only people in our town who +refused to illuminate when a victory was gained over the French. +Leroy's windows were spared on the ground that he was not a Briton, +but the mob endeavoured to show my grandfather the folly of his +belief in democracy by smashing every pane of glass in front of his +house with stones. This drew him and Leroy together, and the result +was, that although Leroy himself never set foot inside any chapel or +church, Miss Leroy was often induced to attend our meeting-house in +company with a maiden aunt of mine, who rather "took to her." Now +comes the for ever mysterious passage in history. There was amongst +the attendants at that meeting-house a young man who was apprentice +to a miller. He was a big, soft, quiet, plump-faced, awkward youth, +very good, but nothing more. He wore on Sunday a complete suit of +light pepper-and-salt clothes, and continued to wear pepper-and-salt +on Sunday all his life. He taught in the Sunday-school, and +afterwards, as he got older, he was encouraged to open his lips at a +prayer-meeting, and to "take the service" in the village chapels on +Sunday evening. He was the most singularly placid, even-tempered +person I ever knew. I first became acquainted with him when I was a +child and he was past middle life. What he was then, I am told, he +always was; and I certainly never heard one single violent word +escape his lips. His habits, even when young, had a tendency to +harden. He went to sleep after his mid-day dinner with the greatest +regularity, and he never could keep awake if he sat by a fire after +dark. I have seen him, when kneeling at family worship and praying +with his family, lose himself for an instant and nod his head, to the +confusion of all who were around him. He is dead now, but he lived +to a good old age, which crept upon him gradually with no pain, and +he passed away from this world to the next in a peaceful doze. He +never read anything, for the simple reason that whenever he was not +at work or at chapel he slumbered. To the utter amazement of +everybody, it was announced one fine day that Miss Leroy and he-- +George Butts--were to be married. They were about the last people in +the world, who, it was thought, could be brought together. My mother +was stunned, and never completely recovered. I have seen her, forty +years after George Butts' wedding-day, lift up her hands, and have +heard her call out with emotion, as fresh as if the event were of +yesterday, "What made that girl have George I can NOT think--but +there!" What she meant by the last two words we could not +comprehend. Many of her acquaintances interpreted them to mean that +she knew more than she dared communicate, but I think they were +mistaken. I am quite certain if she had known anything she must have +told it, and, in the next place, the phrase "but there" was not +uncommon amongst women in our town, and was supposed to mark the +consciousness of a prudently restrained ability to give an +explanation of mysterious phenomena in human relationships. For my +own part, I am just as much in the dark as my mother. My father, who +was a shrewd man, was always puzzled, and could not read the riddle. +He used to say that he never thought George could have "made up" to +any young woman, and it was quite clear that Miss Leroy did not +either then or afterwards display any violent affection for him. I +have heard her criticise and patronise him as a "good soul," but +incapable, as indeed he was, of all sympathy with her. After +marriage she went her way and he his. She got up early, as she was +wont to do, and took her Bible into the fields while he was snoring. +She would then very likely suffer from a terrible headache during the +rest of the day, and lie down for hours, letting the house manage +itself as best it could. What made her selection of George more +obscure was that she was much admired by many young fellows, some of +whom were certainly more akin to her than he was; and I have heard +from one or two reports of encouraging words, and even something more +than words, which she had vouchsafed to them. A solution is +impossible. The affinities, repulsions, reasons in a nature like +that of Miss Leroy's are so secret and so subtle, working towards +such incalculable and not-to-be-predicted results, that to attempt to +make a major and minor premiss and an inevitable conclusion out of +them would be useless. One thing was clear, that by marrying George +she gained great freedom. If she had married anybody closer to her, +she might have jarred with him; there might have been collision and +wreck as complete as if they had been entirely opposed; for she was +not the kind of person to accommodate herself to others even in the +matter of small differences. But George's road through space lay +entirely apart from hers, and there was not the slightest chance of +interference. She was under the protection of a husband; she could +do things that, as an unmarried woman, especially in a foreign land, +she could not do, and the compensatory sacrifice to her was small. +This is really the only attempt at elucidation I can give. She went +regularly all her life to chapel with George, but even when he became +deacon, and "supplied" the villages round, she never would join the +church as a member. She never agreed with the minister, and he never +could make anything out of her. They did not quarrel, but she +thought nothing of his sermons, and he was perplexed and +uncomfortable in the presence of a nondescript who did not respond to +any dogmatic statement of the articles of religion, and who yet could +not be put aside as "one of those in the gallery"--that is to say, as +one of the ordinary unconverted, for she used to quote hymns with +amazing fervour, and she quoted them to him with a freedom and a +certain superiority which he might have expected from an aged brother +minister, but certainly not from one of his own congregation. He was +a preacher of the Gospel, it was true; and it was his duty, a duty on +which he insisted, to be "instant in season and out of season" in +saying spiritual things to his flock; but then they were things +proper, decent, conventional, uttered with gravity at suitable times- +-such as were customary amongst all the ministers of the +denomination. It was not pleasant to be outbid in his own +department, especially by one who was not a communicant, and to be +obliged, when he went on a pastoral visit to a house in which Mrs. +Butts happened to be, to sit still and hear her, regardless of the +minister's presence, conclude a short mystical monologue with +Cowper's verse - + + +"Exults our rising soul, + Disburdened of her load, +And swells unutterably full + Of glory and of God." + + +This was NOT pleasant to our minister, nor was it pleasant to the +minister's wife. But George Butts held a responsible position in our +community, and the minister's wife held also a responsible position, +so that she taxed all her ingenuity to let her friends understand at +tea-parties what she thought of Mrs. Butts without saying anything +which could be the ground of formal remonstrance. Thus did Mrs. +Butts live among us, as an Arabian bird with its peculiar habits, +cries, and plumage might live in one of our barn-yards with the +ordinary barn-door fowls. + +I was never happier when I was a boy than when I was with Mrs. Butts +at the mill, which George had inherited. There was a grand freedom +in her house. The front door leading into the garden was always +open. There was no precise separation between the house and the +mill. The business and the dwelling-place were mixed up together, +and covered with flour. Mr. Butts was in the habit of walking out of +his mill into the living-room every now and then, and never dreamed +when one o'clock came that it was necessary for him to change his +floury coat before he had his dinner. His cap he also often +retained, and in any weather, not extraordinarily cold, he sat in his +shirtsleeves. The garden was large and half-wild. A man from the +mill, if work was slack, gave a day to it now and then, but it was +not trimmed and raked and combed like the other gardens in the town. +It was full of gooseberry trees, and I was permitted to eat the +gooseberries without stint. The mill-life, too, was inexpressibly +attractive--the dark chamber with the great, green, dripping wheel in +it, so awfully mysterious as the central life of the whole structure; +the machinery connected with the wheel--I knew not how; the hole +where the roach lay by the side of the mill-tail in the eddy; the +haunts of the water-rats which we used to hunt with Spot, the black +and tan terrier, and the still more exciting sport with the ferrets-- +all this drew me down the lane perpetually. I liked, and even loved +Mrs. Butts, too, for her own sake. Her kindness to me was unlimited, +and she was never overcome with the fear of "spoiling me," which +seemed the constant dread of most of my hostesses. I never lost my +love for her. It grew as I grew, despite my mother's scarcely +suppressed hostility to her, and when I heard she was ill, and was +likely to die, I went to be with her. She was eighty years old then. +I sat by her bedside with her hand in mine. I was there when she +passed away, and--but I have no mind and no power to say any more, +for all the memories of her affection and of the sunny days by the +water come over me and prevent the calmness necessary for a +chronicle. She with all her faults and eccentricities will always +have in my heart a little chapel with an ever-burning light. She was +one of the very very few whom I have ever seen who knew how to love a +child. + +Mrs. Butts and George had one son who was named Clement. He was +exactly my own age, and naturally we were constant companions. We +went to the same school. He never distinguished himself at his +books, but he was chief among us. He had a versatile talent for +almost every accomplishment in which we delighted, but he was not +supreme in any one of them. There were better cricketers, better +football players, better hands at setting a night-line, better +swimmers than Clem, but he could do something, and do it well, in all +these departments. He generally took up a thing with much eagerness +for a time, and then let it drop. He was foremost in introducing new +games and new fashions, which he permitted to flourish for a time, +and then superseded. As he grew up he displayed a taste for drawing +and music. He was soon able to copy little paintings of flowers, or +even little country scenes, and to play a piece of no very great +difficulty with tolerable effect. But as he never was taught by a +master, and never practised elementary exercises and studies, he was +deficient in accuracy. When the question came what was to be done +with him after he left school, his father naturally wished him to go +into the mill. Clem, however, set his face steadily against this +project, and his mother, who was a believer in his genius, supported +him. He actually wanted to go to the University, a thing unheard of +in those days amongst our people; but this was not possible, and +after dangling about for some time at home, he obtained the post of +usher in a school, an occupation which he considered more congenial +and intellectual than that of grinding flour. Strange to say, +although he knew less than any of his colleagues, he succeeded better +than any of them. He managed to impress a sense of his own +importance upon everybody, including the headmaster. He slid into a +position of superiority. above three or four colleagues who would +have shamed him at an examination, and who uttered many a curse +because they saw themselves surpassed and put in the shade by a +stranger, who, they were confident, could hardly construct a +hexameter. He never quarrelled with them nor did he grossly +patronise them, but he always let them know that he considered +himself above them. His reading was desultory; in fact, everything +he did was desultory. He was not selfish in the ordinary sense of +the word. Rather was he distinguished by a large and liberal open- +handedness; but he was liberal also to himself to a remarkable +degree, dressing himself expensively, and spending a good deal of +money in luxuries. He was specially fond of insisting on his half +French origin, made a great deal of his mother, was silent as to his +father, and always signed himself C. Leroy Butts, although I don't +believe the second Christian name was given him in baptism. +Notwithstanding his generosity he was egotistical and hollow at +heart. He knew nothing of friendship in the best sense of the word, +but had a multitude of acquaintances, whom he invariably sought +amongst those who were better off than himself. He was popular with +them, for no man knew better than he how to get up an entertainment, +or to make a success of an evening party. He had not been at his +school for two years before he conceived the notion of setting up for +himself. He had not a penny, but he borrowed easily what was wanted +from somebody he knew, and in a twelvemonth more he had a dozen +pupils. He took care to get the ablest subordinates he could find, +and he succeeded in passing a boy for an open scholarship at Oxford, +against two competitors prepared by the very man whom he had formerly +served. After this he prospered greatly, and would have prospered +still more, if his love of show and extravagance had not increased +with his income. His talents were sometimes taxed when people who +came to place their sons with him supposed ignorantly that his origin +and attainments were what might be expected from his position; and +poor Chalmers, a Glasgow M.A., who still taught, for 80 pounds a +year, the third class in the establishment in which Butts began life, +had some bitter stories on that subject. Chalmers was a perfect +scholar, but he was not agreeable. He had black finger-nails, and +wore dirty collars. Having a lively remembrance of his friend's +"general acquaintance" with Latin prosody, Chalmers' opinion of +Providence was much modified when he discovered what Providence was +doing for Butts. Clem took to the Church when he started for +himself. It would have been madness in him to remain a Dissenter. +But in private, if it suited his purpose, he could always be airily +sceptical, and he had a superficial acquaintance, second-hand, with a +multitude of books, many of them of an infidel turn. I once rebuked +him for his hypocrisy, and his defence was that religious disputes +were indifferent to him, and that at any rate a man associates with +gentlemen if he is a churchman. Cultivation and manners he thought +to be of more importance than Calvinism. I believe that he partly +meant what he said. He went to church because the school would have +failed if he had gone to chapel; but he was sufficiently keen-sighted +and clever to be beyond the petty quarrels of the sects, and a song +well sung was of much greater moment to him than an essay on paedo- +baptism. It was all very well of Chalmers to revile him for his +shallowness. He was shallow, and yet he possessed in some mysterious +way a talent which I greatly coveted, and which in this world is +inestimably precious--the talent of making people give way before +him--a capacity of self-impression. Chalmers could never have +commanded anybody. He had no power whatever, even when he was right, +to put his will against the wills of others, but yielded first this +way and then the other. Clem, on the contrary, without any +difficulty or any effort, could conquer all opposition, and smilingly +force everybody to do his bidding. + +Clem had a peculiar theory with regard to his own rights and those of +the class to which he considered that he belonged. He always held +implicitly and sometimes explicitly that gifted people live under a +kind of dispensation of grace; the law existing solely for dull +souls. What in a clown is a crime punishable by the laws of the land +might in a man of genius be a necessary development, or at any rate +an excusable offence. He had nothing to say for the servant-girl who +had sinned with the shopman, but if artist or poet were to carry off +another man's wife, it might not be wrong. + +He believed, and acted upon the belief, that the inferior ought to +render perpetual incense to the superior, and that the superior +should receive it as a matter of course. When his father was ill he +never waited on him or sat up a single night with him. If duty was +disagreeable to him Clem paid homage to it afar off, but pleaded +exemption. He admitted that waiting on the sick is obligatory on +people who are fitted for it, and is very charming. Nothing was more +beautiful to him than tender, filial care spending itself for a +beloved object. But it was not his vocation. His nerves were more +finely ordered than those of mankind generally, and the sight of +disease and suffering distressed him too much. Everything was +surrendered to him in the houses of his friends. If any +inconvenience was to be endured, he was the first person to be +protected from it, and he accepted the greatest sacrifices, with a +graceful acknowledgment, it is true, but with no repulse. To what +better purpose could the best wine be put than in cherishing his +imagination. It was simple waste to allow it to be poured out upon +the earth, and to give it to a fool was no better. After he +succeeded so well in the world, Clem, to a great extent, deserted me, +although I was his oldest friend and the friend of his childhood. I +heard that he visited a good many rich persons, that he made much of +them, and they made much of him. He kept up a kind of acquaintance +with me, not by writing to me, but by the very cheap mode of sending +me a newspaper now and then with a marked paragraph in it announcing +the exploits of his school at a cricket-match, or occasionally with a +report of a lecture which he had delivered. He was a decent orator, +and from motives of business if from no other, he not unfrequently +spoke in public. One or two of these lectures wounded me a good +deal. There was one in particular on As You Like It, in which he +held up to admiration the fidelity which is so remarkable in +Shakespeare, and lamented that in these days it was so rare to find +anything of the kind, he thought that we were becoming more +indifferent to one another. He maintained, however, that man should +be everything to man, and he then enlarged on the duty of really +cultivating affection, of its superiority to books, and on the +pleasure and profit of self-denial. I do not mean to accuse Clem of +downright hypocrisy. I have known many persons come up from the +country and go into raptures over a playhouse sun and moon who have +never bestowed a glance or a thought on the real sun and moon to be +seen from their own doors; and we are all aware it by no means +follows because we are moved to our very depths by the spectacle of +unrecognised, uncomplaining endurance in a novel, that therefore we +can step over the road to waste an hour or a sixpence upon the +unrecognised, uncomplaining endurance of the poor lone woman left a +widow in the little villa there. I was annoyed with myself because +Clem's abandonment of me so much affected me. I wished I could cut +the rope and carelessly cast him adrift as he had cast me adrift, but +I could not. I never could make out and cannot make out what was the +secret of his influence over me; why I was unable to say, "If you do +not care for me I do not care for you." I longed sometimes for +complete rupture, so that we might know exactly where we were, but it +never came. Gradually our intercourse grew thinner and thinner, +until at last I heard that he had been spending a fortnight with some +semi-aristocratic acquaintance within five miles of me, and during +the whole of that time he never came near me. I met him in a railway +station soon afterwards, when he came up to me effusive and +apparently affectionate. "It was a real grief to me, my dear +fellow," he said, "that I could not call on you last month, but the +truth was I was so driven: they would make me go here and go there, +and I kept putting off my visit to you till it was too late." +Fortunately my train was just starting, or I don't know what might +have happened. I said not a word; shook hands with him; got into the +carriage; he waved his hat to me, and I pretended not to see him, but +I did see him, and saw him turn round immediately to some well- +dressed officer-like gentleman with whom he walked laughing down the +platform. The rest of that day was black to me. I cared for +nothing. I passed away from the thought of Clem, and dwelt upon the +conviction which had long possessed me that I was INSIGNIFICANT, that +there was NOTHING MUCH IN ME, and it was this which destroyed my +peace. We may reconcile ourselves to poverty and suffering, but few +of us can endure the conviction that there is NOTHING IN US, and that +consequently we cannot expect anybody to gravitate towards us with +any forceful impulse. It is a bitter experience. And yet there is +consolation. The universe is infinite. In the presence of its +celestial magnitudes who is there who is really great or small, and +what is the difference between you and me, my work and yours? I +sought refuge in the idea of GOD, the God of a starry night with its +incomprehensible distances; and I was at peace, content to be the +meanest worm of all the millions that crawl on the earth. + + + +CHAPTER IV--A NECESSARY DEVELOPMENT + + + +The few friends who have read the first part of my autobiography may +perhaps remember that in my younger days I had engaged myself to a +girl named Ellen, from whom afterwards I parted. After some two or +three years she was left an orphan, and came into the possession of a +small property, over which unfortunately she had complete power. She +was attractive and well-educated, and I heard long after I had broken +with her, and had ceased to have intercourse with Butts, that the two +were married. He of course, living so near her, had known her well, +and he found her money useful. How they agreed I knew not save by +report, but I was told that after the first child was born, the only +child they ever had, Butts grew indifferent to her, and that she, to +use my friend's expression, "went off," by which I suppose he meant +that she faded. There happened in those days to live near Butts a +small squire, married, but with no family. He was a lethargic +creature, about five-and-thirty years old, farming eight hundred +acres of his own land. He did not, however, belong to the farming +class. He had been to Harrow, was on the magistrates' bench, and +associated with the small aristocracy of the country round. He was +like every other squire whom I remember in my native county, and I +can remember scores of them. He read no books and tolerated the +usual conventional breaches of the moral law, but was an intense +worshipper of respectability, and hated a scandal. On one point he +differed from his neighbours. He was a Whig and they were all +Tories. I have said he read no books, and this, on the whole, is +true, but nevertheless he did know something about the history of the +early part of the century, and he was rather fond at political +gatherings of making some allusion to Mr. Fox. His father had sat in +the House of Commons when Fox was there, and had sternly opposed the +French war. I don't suppose that anybody not actually IN IT--no +Londoner certainly--can understand the rigidity of the bonds which +restricted county society when I was young, and for aught I know may +restrict it now. There was with us one huge and dark exception to +the general uniformity. The earl had broken loose, had ruined his +estate, had defied decorum and openly lived with strange women at +home and in Paris, but this black background did but set off the +otherwise universal adhesion to the Church and to authorised manners, +an adhesion tempered and rendered tolerable by port wine. It must +not, however, be supposed that human nature was different from the +human nature of to-day or a thousand years ago. There were then, +even as there were a thousand years ago, and are to-day, small, +secret doors, connected with mysterious staircases, by which access +was gained to freedom; and men and women, inmates of castles with +walls a yard thick, and impenetrable portcullises, sought those doors +and descended those stairs night and day. But nobody knew, or if we +did know, the silence was profound. The broad-shouldered, yellow- +haired Whig squire, had a wife who was the opposite of him. She came +from a distant part of the country, and had been educated in France. +She was small, with black hair, and yet with blue eyes. She spoke +French perfectly, was devoted to music, read French books, and, +although she was a constant attendant at church, and gave no +opportunity whatever for the slightest suspicion, the matrons of the +circle in which she moved were never quite happy about her. This was +due partly to her knowledge of French, and partly to her having no +children. Anything more about her I do not know. She was beyond us, +and although I have seen her often enough I never spoke to her. +Butts, however, managed to become a visitor at the squire's house. +Fancy MY going to the squire's! But Butts did, was accepted there, +and even dined there with a parson, and two or three half-pay +officers. The squire never called on Butts. That was an understood +thing, nor did Mrs. Butts accompany her husband. That also was an +understood thing. It was strange that Butts could tolerate and even +court such a relationship. Most men would scorn with the scorn of a +personal insult an invitation to a house from which their wives were +expressly excluded. The squire's lady and Clem became great friends. +She discovered that his mother was a Frenchwoman, and this was a bond +between them. She discovered also that Clem was artistic, that he +was devotedly fond of music, that he could draw a little, paint a +little, and she believed in the divine right of talent wherever it +might be found to assert a claim of equality with those who were +better born. The women in the country-side were shy of her; for the +men she could not possibly care, and no doubt she must at times have +got rather weary of her heavy husband with his one outlook towards +the universal in the person of George James Fox, and the Whig policy +of 1802. I am under some disadvantage in telling this part of my +story, because I was far away from home, and only knew afterwards at +second hand what the course of events had been; but I learned them +from one who was intimately concerned, and I do not think I can be +mistaken on any essential point. I imagine that by this time Mrs. +Butts must have become changed into what she was in later years. She +had grown older since she and I had parted; she had seen trouble; her +child had been born, and although she was not exactly estranged from +Clem, for neither he nor she would have admitted any coolness, she +had learned that she was nothing specially to him. I have often +noticed what an imperceptible touch, what a slight shifting in the +balance of opposing forces, will alter the character. I have +observed a woman, for example, essentially the same at twenty and +thirty--who is there who is not always essentially the same?--and +yet, what was a defect at twenty, has become transformed and +transfigured into a benignant virtue at thirty; translating the whole +nature from the human to the divine. Some slight depression has been +wrought here, and some slight lift has been given there, and beauty +and order have miraculously emerged from what was chaotic. The same +thing may continually be noticed in the hereditary transmission of +qualities. The redeeming virtue of the father palpably present in +the son becomes his curse, through a faint diminution of the strength +of the check which caused that virtue to be the father's salvation. +The propensity, too, which is a man's evil genius, and leads him to +madness and utter ruin, gives vivid reality to all his words and +thoughts, and becomes all his strength, if by divine assistance it +can just be subdued and prevented from rising in victorious +insurrection. But this is a digression, useful, however, in its way, +because it will explain Mrs. Butts when we come a little nearer to +her in the future. + +For a time Clem's visits to the squire's house always took place when +the squire was at home, but an amateur concert was to be arranged in +which Clem was to take part together with the squire's lady. Clem +consequently was obliged to go to the Hall for the purpose of +practising, and so it came to pass that he was there at unusual hours +and when the master was afield. These morning and afternoon calls +did not cease when the concert was over. Clem's wife did not know +anything about them, and, if she noticed his frequent absence, she +was met with an excuse. Perhaps the worst, or almost the worst +effect of relationships which we do not like to acknowledge, is the +secrecy and equivocation which they beget. From the very first +moment when the intimacy between the squire's wife and Clem began to +be anything more than harmless, he was compelled to shuffle and to +become contemptible. At the same time I believe he defended himself +against himself with the weapons which were ever ready when self rose +against self because of some wrong-doing. He was not as other men. +It was absurd to class what he did with what an ordinary person might +do, although externally his actions and those of the ordinary person +might resemble one another. I cannot trace the steps by which the +two sinners drew nearer and nearer together, for the simple reason +that this is an autobiography, and not a novel. I do not know what +the development was, nor did anybody except the person concerned. +Neither do I know what was the mental history of Mrs. Butts during +this unhappy period. She seldom talked about it afterwards. I do, +however, happen to recollect hearing her once say that her greatest +trouble was the cessation, from some unknown cause, of Clem's +attempts--they were never many--to interest and amuse her. It is +easy to understand how this should be. If a man is guilty of any +defection from himself, of anything of which he is ashamed, +everything which is better becomes a farce to him. After he has been +betrayed by some passion, how can he pretend to the perfect enjoyment +of what is pure? The moment he feels any disposition to rise, he is +stricken through as if with an arrow, and he drops. Not until weeks, +months, and even years have elapsed, does he feel justified in +surrendering himself to a noble emotion. I have heard of persons who +have been able to ascend easily and instantaneously from the mud to +the upper air, and descend as easily; but to me at least they are +incomprehensible. Clem, less than most men, suffered permanently, or +indeed in any way from remorse, because he was so shielded by his +peculiar philosophy; but I can quite believe that when he got into +the habit of calling at the Hall at mid-day, his behaviour to his +wife changed. + +One day in December the squire had gone out with the hounds. Clem, +going on from bad to worse, had now reached the point of planning to +be at the Hall when the squire was not at home. On that particular +afternoon Clem was there. It was about half-past four o'clock, and +the master was not expected till six. There had been some music, the +lady accompanying, and Clem singing. It was over, and Clem, sitting +down beside her at the piano, and pointing out with his right hand +some passage which had troubled him, had placed his left arm on her +shoulder, and round her neck, she not resisting. He always swore +afterwards that never till then had such a familiarity as this been +permitted, and I believe that he did not tell a lie. But what was +there in that familiarity? The worst was already there, and it was +through a mere accident that it never showed itself. The accident +was this. The squire, for some unknown reason, had returned earlier +than usual, and dismounting in the stable-yard, had walked round the +garden on the turf which came close to the windows of the ground +floor. Passing the drawing-room window, and looking in by the edge +of the drawn-down blind, he saw his wife and Clem just at the moment +described. He slipped round to the door, took off his boots so that +he might not be heard, and as there was a large screen inside the +room he was able to enter it unobserved. Clem caught sight of him +just as he emerged from behind the screen, and started up instantly +in great confusion, the lady, with greater presence of mind, +remaining perfectly still. Without a word the squire strode up to +Clem, struck out at him, caught him just over the temple, and felled +him instantaneously. He lay for some time senseless, and what passed +between husband and wife I cannot say. After about ten minutes, +perhaps, Clem came to himself; there was nobody to be seen; and he +managed to get up and crawl home. He told his wife he had met with +an accident; that he would go to bed, and that she should know all +about it when he was better. His forehead was dressed, and to bed he +went. That night Mrs. Butts had a letter. It ran as follows:- + + +"MADAM,--It may at first sight seem a harsh thing for me to write and +tell you what I have to say, but I can assure you I do not mean to be +anything but kind to you, and I think it will be better, for reasons +which I will afterwards explain, that I should communicate with you +rather than with your husband. For some time past I have suspected +that he was too fond of my wife, and last night I caught him with his +arms round her neck. In a moment of not unjustifiable anger I +knocked him down. I have not the honour of knowing you personally, +but from what I have heard of you I am sure that he has not the +slightest reason for playing with other women. A man who will do +what he has done will be very likely to conceal from you the true +cause of his disaster, and if you know the cause you may perhaps be +able to reclaim him. If he has any sense of honour left in him, and +of what is due to you, he will seek your pardon for his baseness, and +you will have a hold on him afterwards which you would not have if +you were in ignorance of what has happened. For him I do not care a +straw, but for you I feel deeply, and I believe that my frankness +with you, although it may cause you much suffering now, will save you +more hereafter. I have only one condition to make. Mr. Butts must +leave this place, and never let me see his face again. He has ruined +my peace. Nothing will be published through me, for, as far as I can +prevent it, I will have no public exposure. If Mr. Butts were to +remain here it would be dangerous for us to meet, and probably +everything, by some chance, would become common property.--Believe me +to be, Madam, with many assurances of respect, truly yours,--." + + +I cannot distinguish the precise proportion of cruelty in this +letter. Did the writer designedly torture Butts by telling his wife, +or did he really think that she would in the end be happier because +Butts would not have a secret reserved from her,--a temptation to +lying--and because with this secret in her possession, he might +perhaps be restrained in future? Nobody knows. All we know is that +there are very few human actions of which it can be said that this or +that taken by itself produced them. With our inborn tendency to +abstract, to separate mentally the concrete into factors which do not +exist separately, we are always disposed to assign causes which are +too simple, and which, in fact, have no being in rerum natura. +Nothing in nature is propelled or impeded by one force acting alone. +There is no such thing, save in the brain of the mathematician. I +see no reason why even motives diametrically opposite should not +unite in one resulting deed, and think it very probable that the +squire was both cruel and merciful to the same person in the letter; +influenced by exactly conflicting passions, whose conflict ended SO. + +As to the squire and his wife, they lived together just as before. I +do not think, that, excepting the four persons concerned, anybody +ever heard a syllable about the affair, save myself a long while +afterwards. Clem, however, packed up and left the town, after +selling his business. He had a reputation for restlessness; and his +departure, although it was sudden, was no surprise. He betook +himself to Australia, his wife going with him. I heard that they had +gone, and heard also that he was tired of school-keeping in England, +and had determined to try his fortune in another part of the world. +Our friendship had dwindled to nothing, and I thought no more about +him. Mrs. Butts never uttered one word of reproach to her husband. +I cannot say that she loved him as she could have loved, but she had +accepted him, and she said to herself that as perhaps it was through +her lack of sympathy with him that he had strayed, it was her duty +more and more to draw him to herself. She had a divine disposition, +not infrequent amongst women, to seek in herself the reason for any +wrong which was done to her. That almost instinctive tendency in +men, to excuse, to transfer blame to others, to be angry with +somebody else when they suffer from the consequences of their own +misdeeds, in her did not exist. + +During almost the whole of her married life, before this affair +between the squire and Clem, Mrs. Butts had had much trouble, +although her trouble was, perhaps, rather the absence of joy than the +presence of any poignant grief. She was much by herself. She had +never been a great reader, but in her frequent solitude she was +forced to do something in order to obtain relief, and she naturally +turned to the Bible. It would be foolish to say that the Bible alone +was to be credited with the support she received. It may only have +been the occasion for a revelation of the strength that was in her. +Reading, however, under such circumstances, is likely to be +peculiarly profitable. It is never so profitable as when it is +undertaken in order that a positive need may be satisfied or an +inquiry answered. She discovered in the Bible much that persons to +whom it is a mere literature would never find. The water of life was +not merely admirable to the eye; she drank it, and knew what a +property it possessed for quenching thirst. No doubt the thought of +a heaven hereafter was especially consolatory. She was able to +endure, and even to be happy because the vision of lengthening sorrow +was bounded by a better world beyond. "A very poor, barbarous +gospel," thinks the philosopher who rests on his Marcus Antoninus and +Epictetus. I do not mean to say, that in the shape in which she +believed this doctrine, it was not poor and barbarous, but yet we all +of us, whatever our creed may be, must lay hold at times for +salvation upon something like it. Those who have been plunged up to +the very lips in affliction know its necessity. To such as these it +is idle work for the prosperous and the comfortable to preach +satisfaction with the life that now is. There are seasons when it is +our sole resource to recollect that in a few short years we shall be +at rest. While upon this subject I may say, too, that some injustice +has been done to the Christian creed of immortality as an influence +in determining men's conduct. Paul preached the imminent advent of +Christ and besought his disciples, therefore, to watch, and we ask +ourselves what is the moral value to us of such an admonition. But +surely if we are to have any reasons for being virtuous, this is as +good as any other. It is just as respectable to believe that we +ought to abstain from iniquity because Christ is at hand, and we +expect to meet Him, as to abstain from it because by our abstention +we shall be healthier or more prosperous. Paul had a dream--an +absurd dream let us call it--of an immediate millennium, and of the +return of his Master surrounded with divine splendour, judging +mankind and adjusting the balance between good and evil. It was a +baseless dream, and the enlightened may call it ridiculous. It is +anything but that, it is the very opposite of that. Putting aside +its temporary mode of expression, it is the hope and the prophecy of +all noble hearts, a sign of their inability to concur in the present +condition of things. + +Going back to Clem's wife; she laid hold, as I have said, upon +heaven. The thought wrought in her something more than forgetfulness +of pain or the expectation of counterpoising bliss. We can +understand what this something was, for although we know no such +heaven as hers, a new temper is imparted to us, a new spirit breathed +into us; I was about to say a new hope bestowed upon us, when we +consider that we live surrounded by the soundless depths in which the +stars repose. Such a consideration has a direct practical effect +upon us, and so had the future upon the mind of Mrs. Butts. "Why +dost thou judge thy brother," says Paul, "for we shall all stand +before the judgment-seat of God." Paul does not mean that God will +punish him and that we may rest satisfied that our enemy will be +turned into hell fire. Rather does he mean, what we, too, feel, +that, reflecting on the great idea of God, and upon all that it +involves, our animosities are softened, and our heat against our +brother is cooled. + +One or two reflections may perhaps be permitted here on this passage +in Mrs. Butts' history. + +The fidelity of Clem's wife to him, if not entirely due to the New +Testament, was in a great measure traceable to it. She had learned +from the Epistle to the Corinthians that charity beareth all things, +believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things; and she +interpreted this to mean, not merely charity to those whom she loved +by nature, but charity to those with whom she was not in sympathy, +and who even wronged her. Christianity no doubt does teach such a +charity as this, a love which is to be: independent of mere personal +likes and dislikes, a love of the human in man. The natural man, the +man of this century, uncontrolled by Christianity, considers himself +a model of what is virtuous and heroic if he really loves his +friends, and he permits all kinds of savage antipathies to those of +his fellow creatures with whom he is not in harmony. Jesus on the +other hand asks with His usual perfect simplicity, "If ye love them +which love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the publicans the +same?" It would be a great step in advance for most of us to love +anybody, and the publicans of the time of Jesus must have been a much +more Christian set than most Christians of the present day; but that +we should love those who do not love us is a height never scaled now, +except by a few of the elect in whom Christ still survives. In the +gospel of Luke, also, Mrs. Butts read that she was to hope for +nothing again from her love, and that she was to be merciful, as her +Father in heaven is merciful. That is really the expression of the +IDEA in morality, and incalculable is the blessing that our great +religious teacher should have been bold enough to teach the idea, and +not any limitation of it. He always taught it, the inward born, the +heavenly law towards which everything strives. He always trusted it; +He did not deal in exceptions; He relied on it to the uttermost, +never despairing. This has always seemed to me to be the real +meaning of the word faith. It is permanent confidence in the idea, a +confidence never to be broken down by apparent failure, or by +examples by which ordinary people prove that qualification is +necessary. It was precisely because Jesus taught the idea, and +nothing below it, that He had such authority over a soul like my +friend's, and the effect produced by Him could not have been produced +by anybody nearer to ordinary humanity. + +It must be admitted, too, that the Calvinism of those days had a +powerful influence in enabling men and women to endure, although I +object to giving the name of Calvin to a philosophy which is a +necessity in all ages. "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? +and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father." +This is the last word which can be said. Nothing can go beyond it, +and at times it is the only ground which we feel does not shake under +our feet. All life is summed up, and due account is taken of it, +according to its degree. Mrs. Butts' Calvinism, however, hardly took +the usual dogmatic form. She was too simple to penetrate the depths +of metaphysical theology, and she never would have dared to set down +any of her fellow creatures as irrevocably lost. She adapted the +Calvinistic creed to something which suited her. For example, she +fully understood what St. Paul means when he tells the Thessalonians +that BECAUSE they were called, THEREFORE they were to stand fast. +She thought with Paul that being called; having a duty plainly laid +upon her; being bidden as if by a general to do something, she OUGHT +to stand fast; and she stood fast, supported against all pressure by +the consciousness of fulfilling the special orders of One who was her +superior. There is no doubt that this dogma of a personal calling is +a great consolation, and it is a great truth. Looking at the masses +of humanity, driven this way and that way, the Christian teaching is +apt to be forgotten that for each individual soul there is a vocation +as real as if that soul were alone upon the planet. Yet it is a +fact. We are blinded to it and can hardly believe it, because of the +impotency of our little intellects to conceive a destiny which shall +take care of every atom of life on the globe: we are compelled to +think that in such vast crowds of people as we behold, individuals +must elude the eye of the Maker, and be swept into forgetfulness. +But the truth of truths is that the mind of the universe is not our +mind, or at any rate controlled by our limitations. + +This has been a long digression which I did not intend; but I could +not help it. I was anxious to show how Mrs. Butts met her trouble +through her religion. The apostle says that "they drank of that +spiritual Rock which followed them, and that Rock was Christ." That +was true of her. The way through the desert was not annihilated; the +path remained stony and sore to the feet, but it was accompanied to +the end by a sweet stream to which she could turn aside, and from +which she could obtain refreshment and strength. + +Just about the time that we began our meetings near Drury Lane, I +heard that Clem was dead; that he had died abroad. I knew nothing +more; I thought about him and his wife perhaps for a day, but I had +parted from both long ago, and I went on with my work. + + + +CHAPTER V--WHAT IT ALL CAME TO + + + +For two years or thereabouts, M'Kay and myself continued our labours +in the Drury Lane neighbourhood. There is a proverb that it is the +first step which is the most difficult in the achievement of any +object, and the proverb has been altered by ascribing the main part +of the difficulty to the last step. Neither the first nor the last +has been the difficult step with me, but rather what lies between. +The first is usually helped by the excitement and the promise of new +beginnings, and the last by the prospect of triumph; but the +intermediate path is unassisted by enthusiasm, and it is here we are +so likely to faint. M'Kay nevertheless persevered, supporting me, +who otherwise might have been tempted to despair, and at the end of +the two years we were still at our posts. We had, however, learned +something. We had learned that we could not make the slightest +impression on Drury Lane proper. Now and then an idler, or sometimes +a dozen, lounged in, but what was said was strange to them; they were +out of their own world as completely as if they were in another +planet, and all our efforts to reach them by simplicity of statement +and by talking about things which we supposed would interest them +utterly failed. I did not know, till I came in actual contact with +them, how far away the classes which lie at the bottom of great +cities are from those above them; how completely they are +inaccessible to motives which act upon ordinary human beings, and how +deeply they are sunk beyond ray of sun or stars, immersed in the +selfishness naturally begotten of their incessant struggle for +existence and the incessant warfare with society. It was an awful +thought to me, ever present on those Sundays, and haunting me at +other times, that men, women, and children were living in such +brutish degradation, and that as they died others would take their +place. Our civilisation seemed nothing but a thin film or crust +lying over a volcanic pit, and I often wondered whether some day the +pit would not break up through it and destroy us all. Great towns +are answerable for the creation and maintenance of the masses of +dark, impenetrable, subterranean blackguardism, with which we became +acquainted. The filthy gloom of the sky, the dirt of the street, the +absence of fresh air, the herding of the poor into huge districts +which cannot be opened up by those who would do good, are tremendous +agencies of corruption which are active at such a rate that it is +appalling to reflect what our future will be if the accumulation of +population be not checked. To stand face to face with the insoluble +is not pleasant. A man will do anything rather than confess it is +beyond him. He will create pleasant fictions, and fancy a possible +escape here and there, but this problem of Drury Lane was round and +hard like a ball of adamant. The only thing I could do was faintly, +and I was about to say stupidly, hope--for I had no rational, +tangible grounds for hoping--that some force of which we are not now +aware might some day develop itself which will be able to resist and +remove the pressure which sweeps and crushes into a hell, sealed from +the upper air, millions of human souls every year in one quarter of +the globe alone. + +M'Kay's dreams therefore were not realised, and yet it would be a +mistake to say that they ended in nothing. It often happens that a +grand attempt, although it may fail--miserably fail--is fruitful in +the end and leaves a result, not the hoped for result it is true, but +one which would never have been attained without it. A youth strives +after the impossible, and he is apt to break his heart because he has +never even touched it, but nevertheless his whole life is the sweeter +for the striving; and the archer who aims at a mark a hundred yards +away will send his arrow further than he who sets his bow and his arm +for fifty yards. So it was with M'Kay. He did not convert Drury +Lane, but he saved two or three. One man whom we came to know was a +labourer in Somerset House, a kind of coal porter employed in +carrying coals into the offices there from the cellars below, and in +other menial duties. He had about fifteen or sixteen shillings a +week, and as the coals must necessarily be in the different rooms +before ten o'clock in the morning, he began work early, and was +obliged to live within an easy distance of the Strand. This man had +originally been a small tradesman in a country town. He was honest, +but he never could or never would push his trade in any way. He was +fond of all kinds of little mechanical contrivings, disliked his +shop, and ought to have been a carpenter or cabinet-maker--not as a +master but as a journeyman, for he had no ability whatever to control +men or direct large operations. He was married, and a sense of duty +to his wife--he fortunately had no children--induced him to stand or +sit behind his counter with regularity, but people would not come to +buy of him, because he never seemed to consider their buying as any +favour conferred on him; and thus he became gradually displaced by +his more energetic or more obsequious rivals. In the end he was +obliged to put up his shutters. Unhappily for him, he had never been +a very ardent attendant at any of the places of religious worship in +the town, and he had therefore no organisation to help him. Not +being master of any craft, he was in a pitiable plight, and was +slowly sinking, when he applied to the solicitor of the political +party for which he had always voted to assist him. The solicitor +applied to the member, and the member, much regretting the difficulty +of obtaining places for grown-up men, and explaining the pressure +upon the Treasury, wrote to say that the only post at his disposal +was that of labourer. He would have liked to offer a messengership, +but the Treasury had hundreds of applications from great people who +wished to dispose of favourite footmen whose services they no longer +required. Our friend Taylor had by this time been brought very low, +or he would have held out for something better, but there was nothing +to be done. He was starving, and he therefore accepted; came to +London; got a room, one room only, near Clare Market, and began his +new duties. He was able to pick up a shilling or two more weekly by +going on errands for the clerks during his slack time in the day, so +that altogether on the average he made up about eighteen shillings. +Wandering about the Clare Market region on Sunday he found us out, +came in, and remained constant. Naturally, as we had so few +adherents, we gradually knew these few very intimately, and Taylor +would often spend a holiday or part of the Sunday with us. He was +not eminent for anything in particular, and an educated man, +selecting as his friends those only who stand for something, would +not have taken the slightest notice of him. He had read nothing +particular, and thought nothing particular--he was indeed one of the +masses--but in this respect different, that he had not the tendency +to association, aggregation, or clanship which belong to the masses +generally. He was different, of course, in all his ways from his +neighbours born and bred to Clare Market and its alleys. Although +commonplace, he had demands made upon him for an endurance by no +means commonplace, and he had sorrows which were as exquisite as +those of his betters. He did not much resent his poverty. To that I +think he would have submitted, and in fact he did submit to it +cheerfully. What rankled in him was the brutal disregard of him at +the office. He was a servant of servants. The messengers, who +themselves were exposed to all the petty tyrannies of the clerks, and +dared not reply, were Taylor's masters, and sought a compensation for +their own serfdom by making his ten times worse. The head messenger, +who had been a butler, swore at him, and if Taylor had "answered" he +would have been reported. He had never been a person of much +importance, but at least he had been independent, and it was a new +experience for him to feel that he was a thing fit for nothing but to +be cuffed and cursed. Upon this point he used to get eloquent--as +eloquent as he could be, for he had small power of expression, and he +would describe to me the despair which came over him down in those +dark vaults at the prospect of life continuing after this fashion, +and with not the minutest gleam of light even at the very end. +Nobody ever cared to know the most ordinary facts about him. Nobody +inquired whether he was married or single; nobody troubled himself +when he was ill. If he was away, his pay was stopped; and when he +returned to work nobody asked if he was better. Who can wonder that +at first, when he was an utter stranger in a strange land, he was +overcome by the situation, and that the world was to him a dungeon +worse than that of Chillon? Who can wonder that he was becoming +reckless? A little more of such a life would have transformed him +into a brute. He had not the ability to become revolutionary, or it +would have made him a conspirator. Suffering of any kind is hard to +bear, but the suffering which especially damages character is that +which is caused by the neglect or oppression of man. At any rate it +was so in Taylor's case. I believe that he would have been patient +under any inevitable ordinance of nature, but he could not lie still +under contempt, the knowledge that to those about him he was of less +consequence than the mud under their feet. He was timid and, after +his failure as a shopkeeper, and the near approach to the workhouse, +he dreaded above everything being again cast adrift. Strange +conflict arose in him, for the insults to which he was exposed drove +him almost to madness; and yet the dread of dismissal in a moment +checked him when he was about to "fire up," as he called it, and +reduced him to a silence which was torture. Once he was ordered to +bring some coals for the messenger's lobby. The man who gave him the +order, finding that he was a long time bringing them, went to the top +of the stairs, and bawled after him with an oath to make haste. The +reason of the delay was that Taylor had two loads to bring up--one +for somebody else. When he got to the top of the steps, the +messenger with another oath took the coals, and saying that he "would +teach him to skulk there again," kicked the other coal-scuttle down +to the bottom. Taylor himself told me this; and yet, although he +would have rejoiced if the man had dropped down dead, and would +willingly have shot him, he was dumb. The check operated in an +instant. He saw himself without a penny, and in the streets. He +went down into the cellar, and raged and wept for an hour. Had he +been a workman, he would probably have throttled his enemy, or tried +to do it, or what is more likely, his enemy would not have dared to +treat him in such fashion, but he was powerless, and once losing his +situation he would have sunk down into the gutter, whence he would +have been swept by the parish into the indiscriminate heap of London +pauperism, and carted away to the Union, a conclusion which was worse +to him than being hung. + +Another of our friends was a waiter in one of the public-houses and +chop-houses combined, of which there are so many in the Strand. He +lived in a wretched alley which ran from St. Clement's Church to +Boswell Court--I have forgotten its name--a dark crowded passage. He +was a man of about sixty--invariably called John, without the +addition of any surname. I knew him long before we opened our room, +for I was in the habit of frequently visiting the chop-house in which +he served. His hours were incredible. He began at nine o'clock in +the morning with sweeping the dining-room, cleaning the tables and +the gas globes, and at twelve business commenced with early +luncheons. Not till three-quarters of an hour after midnight could +he leave, for the house was much used by persons who supped there +after the theatres. During almost the whole of this time he was on +his legs, and very often he was unable to find two minutes in the day +in which to get his dinner. Sundays, however, were free. John was +not a head waiter, but merely a subordinate, and I never knew why at +his time of life he had not risen to a better position. He used to +say that "things had been against him," and I had no right to seek +for further explanations. He was married, and had had three +children, of whom one only was living--a boy of ten years old, whom +he hoped to get into the public-house as a potboy for a beginning. +Like Taylor, the world had well-nigh overpowered John entirely-- +crushed him out of all shape, so that what he was originally, or +might have been, it was almost impossible to tell. There was no +particular character left in him. He may once have been this or +that, but every angle now was knocked off, as it is knocked off from +the rounded pebbles which for ages have been dragged up and down the +beach by the waves. For a lifetime he had been exposed to all sorts +of whims and caprices, generally speaking of the most unreasonable +kind, and he had become so trained to take everything without +remonstrance or murmuring that every cross in his life came to him as +a chop alleged by an irritated customer to be raw or done to a +cinder. Poor wretch! he had one trouble, however, which he could not +accept with such equanimity, or rather with such indifference. His +wife was a drunkard. This was an awful trial to him. The worst +consequence was that his boy knew that his mother got drunk. The +neighbours kindly enough volunteered to look after the little man +when he was not at school, and they waylaid him and gave him dinner +when his mother was intoxicated; but frequently he was the first when +he returned to find out that there was nothing for him to eat, and +many a time he got up at night as late as twelve o'clock, crawled +downstairs, and went off to his father to tell him that "she was very +bad, and he could not go to sleep." The father, then, had to keep +his son in the Strand till it was time to close, take him back, and +manage in the best way he could. Over and over again was he obliged +to sit by this wretched woman's bedside till breakfast time, and then +had to go to work as usual. Let anybody who has seen a case of this +kind say whether the State ought not to provide for the relief of +such men as John, and whether he ought not to have been able to send +his wife away to some institution where she might have been tended +and restrained from destroying, not merely herself, but her husband +and her child. John hardly bore up under this sorrow. A man may +endure much, provided he knows that he will be well supported when +his day's toil is over; but if the help for which he looks fails, he +falls. Oh those weary days in that dark back dining-room, from which +not a square inch of sky was visible! weary days haunted by a fear +that while he was there unknown mischief was being done! weary days, +whose close nevertheless he dreaded! Beaten down, baffled, +disappointed, if we are in tolerable health we can contrive to live +on some almost impossible chance, some most distant flicker of hope. +It is astonishing how minute a crack in the heavy uniform cloud will +relieve us; but when with all our searching we can see nothing, then +at last we sink. Such was John's case when I first came to know him. +He attracted me rather, and bit by bit he confided his story to me. +He found out that I might be trusted, and that I could sympathise, +and he told me what he had never told to anybody before. I was +curious to discover whether religion had done anything for him, and I +put the question to him in an indirect way. His answer was that +"some on 'em say there's a better world where everything will be put +right, but somehow it seemed too good to be true." That was his +reason for disbelief, and heaven had not the slightest effect on him. +He found out the room, and was one of our most constant friends. + +Another friend was of a totally different type. His name was +Cardinal. He was a Yorkshireman, broad-shouldered, ruddy in the +face, short-necked, inclined apparently to apoplexy, and certainly to +passion. He was a commercial traveller in the cloth trade, and as he +had the southern counties for his district, London was his home when +he was not upon his journeys. His wife was a curious contrast to +him. She was dark-haired, pinched-up, thin-lipped, and always seemed +as if she suffered from some chronic pain or gnawing--not sufficient +to make her ill, but sufficient to make her miserable. They had no +children. Cardinal in early life had been a member of an orthodox +Dissenting congregation, but he had fallen away. He had nobody to +guide him, and the position into which he fell was peculiar. He +never busied himself about religion or philosophy; indeed he had had +no training which would have led him to take an interest in abstract +questions, but he read all kinds of romances and poetry without any +order and upon no system. He had no discriminating faculty, and +mixed up together the most heterogeneous mass of trumpery novels, +French translations, and the best English authors, provided only they +were unworldly or sentimental. Neither did he know how far to take +what he read and use it in his daily life. He often selected some +fantastical motive which he had found set forth as operative in one +of his heroes, and he brought it into his business, much to the +astonishment of his masters and customers. For this reason he was +not stable. He changed employers two or three times; and, so far as +I could make out, his ground of objection to each of the firms whom +he left might have been a ground of dislike in a girl to a suitor, +but certainly nothing more. During the intervals of his engagements, +unless he was pressed for money, he did nothing--not from laziness, +but because he had got a notion in his head that his mind wanted rest +and reinvigoration. His habit then was to consume the whole day--day +after day--in reading or in walking out by himself. It may easily be +supposed that with a temperament like his, and with nobody near him +to take him by the hand, he made great mistakes. His wife and he +cared nothing for one another, but she was jealous to the last +degree. I never saw such jealousy. It was strange that, although +she almost hated him, she watched him with feline sharpness and +patience, and would even have killed any woman whom she knew had won +his affection. He, on the other hand, openly avowed that marriage +without love was nothing, and flaunted without the least modification +the most ideal theories as to the relation between man and woman. +Not that he ever went actually wrong. His boyish education, his +natural purity, and a fear never wholly suppressed, restrained him. +He exasperated people by his impracticability, and it must be +acknowledged that it is very irritating in a difficult complexity +demanding the gravest consideration--the balancing of this against +that--to hear a man suddenly propose some naked principle with which +everybody is acquainted, and decide by it solely. I came to know him +through M'Kay, who had known him for years; but M'Kay at last broke +out against him, and called him a stupid fool when he threw up a +handsome salary and refused to serve any longer under a house which +had always treated him well, because they, moving with the times, had +determined to offer their customers a cheaper description of goods, +which Cardinal thought was dishonest. M'Kay said, and said truly, +that many poor persons would buy these goods who could buy nothing +else, and that Cardinal, before yielding to such scruples, ought to +satisfy himself that, by yielding, he would not become a burden upon +others less fanciful. This was just what happened. Cardinal could +get no work again for a long time, and had to borrow money. I was +sorry; but for my part, this and other eccentricities did not disturb +my confidence in him. He was an honest, affectionate soul, and his +peculiarities were a necessary result of the total chaos of a time +without any moral guidance. With no church, no philosophy, no +religion, the wonder is that anybody on whom use and wont relax their +hold should ever do anything more than blindly rove hither and +thither, arriving at nothing. Cardinal was adrift, like thousands +and hundreds of thousands of others, and amidst the storm and pitchy +darkness of the night, thousands and hundreds of thousands of voices +offer us pilotage. It spoke well for him that he did nothing worse +than take a few useless phantoms on board which did him no harm, and +that he held fast to his own instinct for truth and goodness. I +never let myself be annoyed by what he produced to me from his books. +All that I discarded. Underneath all that was a solid worth which I +loved, and which was mostly not vocal. What was vocal in him was, I +am bound to say, not of much value. + +About the time when our room opened, Mrs. Cardinal had become almost +insupportable to her husband. Poor woman; I always pitied her; she +was alone sometimes for a fortnight at a stretch; she read nothing; +there was no child to occupy her thoughts; she knew that her husband +lived in a world into which she never entered, and she had nothing to +do but to brood over imaginary infidelities. She was literally +possessed, and who shall be hard upon her? Nobody cared for her; +everybody with whom her husband associated disliked her, and she knew +perfectly well they never asked her to their houses except for his +sake. Cardinal vowed at last he would endure her no longer, and that +they must separate. He was induced one Sunday morning, when his +resolution was strong within him, and he was just about to give +effect to it, to come with us. The quiet seemed to soothe him, and +he went home with me afterwards. He was not slow to disclose to me +his miserable condition, and his resolve to change it. I do not know +now what I said, but it appeared to me that he ought not to change +it, and that change would be for him most perilous. I thought that +with a little care life might become at least bearable with his wife; +that by treating her not so much as if she were criminal, but as if +she were diseased, hatred might pass into pity, and pity into +merciful tenderness to her, and that they might dwell together upon +terms not harder than those upon which many persons who have made +mistakes in youth agree to remain with each other; terms which, after +much consideration, they adjudge it better to accept than to break +loose, and bring upon themselves and those connected with them all +that open rupture involves. The difficulty was to get Cardinal to +give up his theory of what two abstract human beings should do +between whom no love exists. It seemed to him something like atheism +to forsake his clearly-discerned, simple rule for a course which was +dictated by no easily-grasped higher law, and it was very difficult +to persuade him that there is anything of equal authority in a law +less rigid in its outline. However, he went home. I called on him +some time afterwards, and saw that a peace, or at any rate a truce, +was proclaimed, which lasted up to the day of his death. M'Kay and I +agreed to make as much of Mrs. Cardinal as we could, and yielding to +urgent invitation, she came to the room. This wonderfully helped to +heal her. She began to feel that she was not overlooked, put on one +side, or despised, and the bonds which bound her constricted lips +into bitterness were loosened. + +Another friend, and the last whom I shall name, was a young man named +Clark. He was lame, and had been so from childhood. His father was +a tradesman, working hard from early morning till late at night, and +burdened with a number of children. The boy Richard, shut out from +the companionship of his fellows, had a great love of books. When he +left school his father did not know what to do with him--in fact +there was only one occupation open to him, and that was clerical work +of one kind or another. At last he got a place in a house in Fleet +Street, which did a large business in those days in sending +newspapers into the country. His whole occupation all day long was +to write addresses, and for this he received twenty-five shillings a +week, his hours being from nine o'clock till seven. The office in +which he sat was crowded, and in order to squeeze the staff into the +smallest space, rent being dear, a gallery had been run round the +wall about four feet from the ceiling. This was provided with desks +and gas lamps, and up there Clark sat, artificial light being +necessary four days out of five. He came straight from the town in +which his father lived to Fleet Street, and once settled in it there +seemed no chance of change for the better. He knew what his father's +struggles were; he could not go back to him, and he had not the +energy to attempt to lift himself. It is very doubtful too whether +he could have succeeded in achieving any improvement, whatever his +energy might have been. He had got lodgings in Newcastle Street, and +to these he returned in the evening, remaining there alone with his +little library, and seldom moving out of doors. He was unhealthy +constitutionally, and his habits contributed to make him more so. +Everything which he saw which was good seemed only to sharpen the +contrast between himself and his lot, and his reading was a curse to +him rather than a blessing. I sometimes wished that he had never +inherited any love whatever for what is usually considered to be the +Best, and that he had been endowed with an organisation coarse and +commonplace, like that of his colleagues. If he went into company +which suited him, or read anything which interested him, it seemed as +if the ten hours of the gallery in Fleet Street had been made thereby +only the more insupportable, and his habitual mood was one of +despondency, so that his fellow clerks who knew his tastes not +unnaturally asked what was the use of them if they only made him +wretched; and they were more than ever convinced that in their +amusements lay true happiness. Habit, which is the saviour of most +of us, the opiate which dulls the otherwise unbearable miseries of +life, only served to make Clark more sensitive. The monotony of that +perpetual address-copying was terrible. He has told me with a kind +of shame what an effect it had upon him--that sometimes for days he +would feed upon the prospect of the most childish trifle because it +would break in some slight degree the uniformity of his toil. For +example, he would sometimes change from quill to steel pens and back +again, and he found himself actually looking forward with a kind of +joy--merely because of the variation--to the day on which he had +fixed to go back to the quill after using steel. He would determine, +two or three days beforehand, to get up earlier, and to walk to Fleet +Street by way of Great Queen Street and Lincoln's Inn Fields, and +upon this he would subsist till the day came. He could make no +longer excursions because of his lameness. All this may sound very +much like simple silliness to most people, but those who have not +been bound to a wheel do not know what thoughts come into the head of +the strongest man who is extended on it. Clark sat side by side in +his gallery with other young men of rather a degraded type, and the +confinement bred in them a filthy grossness with which they tormented +him. They excited in him loathsome images, from which he could not +free himself either by day or night. He was peculiarly weak in his +inability to cast off impressions, or to get rid of mental pictures +when once formed, and his distress at being haunted by these hateful, +disgusting thoughts was pitiable. They were in fact almost more than +thoughts, they were transportations out of himself--real visions. It +would have been his salvation if he could have been a carpenter or a +bricklayer, in country air, but this could not be. + +Clark had no power to think connectedly to a conclusion. When an +idea came into his head, he dwelt upon it incessantly, and no +correction of the false path upon which it set him was possible, +because he avoided society. Work over, he was so sick of people that +he went back to himself. So it came to pass that when brought into +company, what he believed and cherished was frequently found to be +open to obvious objection, and was often nothing better than nonsense +which was rudely, and as he himself was forced to admit, justly +overthrown. He ought to have been surrounded with intelligent +friends, who would have enabled him to see continually the other +side, and who would have prevented his long and useless wanderings. +Like many other persons, too, whom I have known--just in proportion +to his lack of penetrative power was his tendency to occupy himself +with difficult questions. By a cruel destiny he was impelled to +dabble in matters for which he was totally unfitted. He never could +go beyond his author a single step, and he lost himself in endless +mazes. If he could but have been persuaded to content himself with +sweet presentations of wholesome happy existence, with stories and +with history, how much better it would have been for him! He had had +no proper training whatever for anything more, he was ignorant of the +exact meaning of the proper terminology of science, and an unlucky +day it was for him when he picked up on a bookstall some very early +translation of some German book on philosophy. One reason, as may be +conjectured, for his mistakes was his education in dissenting +Calvinism, a religion which is entirely metaphysical, and encourages, +unhappily, in everybody a taste for tremendous problems. So long as +Calvinism is unshaken, the mischief is often not obvious, because a +ready solution taken on trust is provided; but when doubts arise, the +evil results become apparent, and the poor helpless victim, totally +at a loss, is torn first in this direction and then in the other, and +cannot let these questions alone. He has been taught to believe they +are connected with salvation, and he is compelled still to busy +himself with them, rather than with simple external piety. + + + +CHAPTER VI--DRURY LANE THEOLOGY + + + +Such were some of our disciples. I do not think that church or +chapel would have done them much good. Preachers are like unskilled +doctors with the same pill and draught for every complaint. They do +not know where the fatal spot lies on lung or heart or nerve which +robs us of life. If any of these persons just described had gone to +church or chapel they would have heard discourses on the usual set +topics, none of which would have concerned them. Their trouble was +not the forgiveness of sins, the fallacies of Arianism, the +personality of the Holy Ghost, or the doctrine of the Eucharist. +They all WANTED something distinctly. They had great gaping needs +which they longed to satisfy, intensely practical and special. Some +of these necessities no words could in any way meet. It was obvious, +for instance, that Clark must at once be taken away from his gallery +and his copying if he was to live--at least in sanity. He had +fortunately learned shorthand, and M'Kay got him employment on a +newspaper. His knowledge of his art was by no means perfect at +first, but he was sent to attend meetings where verbatim reports were +not necessary, and he quickly advanced. Taylor, too, we tried to +remove, and we succeeded in attaching him to a large club as an out- +of-doors porter. The poor man was now at least in the open air, and +freed from insolent tyranny. This, however, was help such as anybody +might have given. The question of most importance is, What gospel +had we to give? Why, in short, did we meet on the Sunday? What was +our justification? In the first place, there was the simple +quietude. The retreat from the streets and from miserable cares into +a place where there was peace and room for reflection was something. +It is all very well for cultivated persons with libraries to scoff at +religious services. To the poor the cathedral or the church might be +an immense benefit, if only for the reason that they present a +barrier to worldly noise, and are a distinct invitation by +architecture and symbolic decoration to meditation on something +beyond the business which presses on them during the week. Poor +people frequently cannot read for want of a place in which to read. +Moreover, they require to be provoked by a stronger stimulus than +that of a book. They willingly hear a man talk if he has anything to +say, when they would not care to look at what he said if it were +printed. But to come more closely to the point. Our main object was +to create in our hearers contentment with their lot; and even some +joy in it. That was our religion; that was the central thought of +all we said and did, giving shape and tendency to everything. We +admitted nothing which did not help us in that direction, and +everything which did help us. Our attempts, to any one who had not +the key, may have seemed vague and desultory. We might by a stranger +have been accused of feeble wandering, of idle dabbling, now in this +subject and now in that, but after a while he would have found that +though we were weak creatures, with no pretence to special knowledge +in any subject, we at least knew what we meant, and tried to +accomplish it. For my own part, I was happy when I had struck that +path. I felt as if somehow, after many errors, I had once more +gained a road, a religion in fact, and one which essentially was not +new but old, the religion of the Reconciliation, the reconciliation +of man with God; differing from the current creed in so far as I did +not lay stress upon sin as the cause of estrangement, but yet +agreeing with it in making it my duty of duties to suppress revolt, +and to submit calmly and sometimes cheerfully to the Creator. This +surely, under a thousand disguises, has been the meaning of all the +forms of worship which we have seen in the world. Pain and death are +nothing new, and men have been driven into perplexed scepticism, and +even insurrection by them, ever since men came into being. Always, +however, have the majority, the vast majority of the race, felt +instinctively that in this scepticism and insurrection they could not +abide, and they have struggled more or less blindly after +explanation; determined not to desist till they had found it, and +reaching a result embodied in a multitude of shapes irrational and +absurd to the superficial scoffer, but of profound interest to the +thoughtful. I may observe, in passing, that this is a reason why all +great religions should be treated with respect, and in a certain +sense preserved. It is nothing less than a wicked waste of +accumulated human strivings to sneer them out of existence. They +will be found, every one of them, to have incarnated certain vital +doctrines which it has cost centuries of toil and devotion properly +to appreciate. Especially is this true of the Catholic faith, and if +it were worth while, it might be shown how it is nothing less than a +divine casket of precious remedies, and if it is to be brutally +broken, it will take ages to rediscover and restore them. Of one +thing I am certain, that their rediscovery and restoration will be +necessary. I cannot too earnestly insist upon the need of our +holding, each man for himself, by some faith which shall anchor him. +It must not be taken up by chance. We must fight for it, for only so +will it become OUR faith. The halt in indifference or in hostility +is easy enough and seductive enough. The half-hearted thinks that +when he has attained that stage he has completed the term of human +wisdom. I say go on: do not stay there; do not take it for granted +that there is nothing beyond; incessantly attempt an advance, and at +last a light, dim it may be, will arise. It will not be a completed +system, perfect in all points, an answer to all our questions, but at +least it will give ground for hope. + +We had to face the trials of our friends, and we had to face death. +I do not say for an instant that we had any effectual reply to these +great arguments against us. We never so much as sought for one, +knowing how all men had sought and failed. But we were able to say +there is some compensation, that there is another side, and this is +all that man can say. No theory of the world is possible. The +storm, the rain slowly rotting the harvest, children sickening in +cellars are obvious; but equally obvious are an evening in June, the +delight of men and women in one another, in music, and in the +exercise of thought. There can surely be no question that the sum of +satisfaction is increasing, not merely in the gross but for each +human being, as the earth from which we sprang is being worked out of +the race, and a higher type is being developed. I may observe, too, +that although it is usually supposed, it is erroneously supposed, +that it is pure doubt which disturbs or depresses us. Simple +suspense is in fact very rare, for there are few persons so +constituted as to be able to remain in it. It is dogmatism under the +cloak of doubt which pulls us down. It is the dogmatism of death, +for example, which we have to avoid. The open grave is dogmatic, and +we say THAT MAN HAS GONE, but this is as much a transgression of the +limits of certitude as if we were to say HE IS AN ANGEL IN BLISS. +The proper attitude, the attitude enjoined by the severest exercise +of the reason is, I DO NOT KNOW; and in this there is an element of +hope, now rising and now falling, but always sufficient to prevent +that blank despair which we must feel if we consider it as settled +that when we lie down under the grass there is an absolute end. + +The provision in nature of infinity ever present to us is an immense +help. No man can look up to the stars at night and reflect upon what +lies behind them without feeling that the tyranny of the senses is +loosened, and the tyranny, too, of the conclusions of his logic. The +beyond and the beyond, let us turn it over as we may, let us consider +it as a child considers it, or by the light of the newest philosophy, +is a constant, visible warning not to make our minds the measure of +the universe. Underneath the stars what dreams, what conjectures +arise, shadowy enough, it is true; but one thing we cannot help +believing as irresistibly as if by geometrical deduction--that the +sphere of that understanding of ours, whose function it seems to be +to imprison us, is limited. + +Going through a churchyard one afternoon I noticed that nearly all +the people who were buried there, if the inscriptions on the +tombstones might be taken to represent the thoughts of the departed +when they were alive, had been intent solely on their own personal +salvation. The question with them all seemed to have been, shall _I_ +go to heaven? Considering the tremendous difference between heaven +and hell in the popular imagination, it was very natural that these +poor creatures should be anxious above everything to know whether +they would be in hell or heaven for ever. Surely, however, this is +not the highest frame of mind, nor is it one to be encouraged. I +would rather do all I can to get out of it, and to draw others out of +it too. Our aim ought not so much to be the salvation of this poor +petty self, but of that in me which alone makes it worth while to +save me; of that alone which I hope will be saved, immortal truth. +The very centre of the existence of the ordinary chapel-goer and +church-goer needs to be shifted from self to what is outside self, +and yet is truly self, and the sole truth of self. If the truth +lives, WE live, and if it dies, we are dead. Our theology stands in +need of a reformation greater than that of Luther's. It may be said +that the attempt to replace the care for self in us by a care for the +universal is ridiculous. Man cannot rise to that height. I do not +believe it. I believe we can rise to it. Every ordinary unselfish +act is a proof of the capacity to rise to it; and the mother's denial +of all care for her own happiness, if she can but make her child +happy, is a sublime anticipation. It may be called an instinct, but +in the course of time it will be possible to develop a wider instinct +in us, so that our love for the truth shall be even maternally +passionate and self-forgetting. + +After all our searching it was difficult to find anything which, in +the case of a man like John the waiter, for example, could be of any +service to him. At his age efficient help was beyond us, and in his +case the problem presented itself in its simple nakedness. What +comfort is there discoverable for the wretched which is not based +upon illusion? We could not tell him that all he endured was right +and proper. But even to him we were able to offer something. We did +all we could to soothe him. On the Sunday, at least, he was able to +find some relief from his labours, and he entered into a different +region. He came to see us in the afternoon and evening occasionally, +and brought his boy. Father and son were pulled up out of the vault, +brought into the daylight, and led into an open expanse. We tried +above everything to interest them, even in the smallest degree, in +what is universal and impersonal, feeling that in that direction lies +healing. We explained to the child as well as we could some morsels +of science, and in explaining to him we explained to the father as +well. When the anguish begotten by some outbreak on the part of the +wife more violent than usual became almost too much to bear, we did +our best to counsel, and as a last consolation we could point to +Death, divine Death, and repose. It was but for a few more years at +the utmost, and then must come a rest which no sorrow could invade. +"Having death as an ally, I do not tremble at shadows," is an +immortal quotation from some unknown Greek author. Providence, too, +by no miracle, came to our relief. The wife died, as it was foreseen +she must, and that weight being removed, some elasticity and recoil +developed itself. John's one thought now was for his child, and by +means of the child the father passed out of himself, and connected +himself with the future. The child did in fact teach the father +exactly what we tried to teach, and taught it with a power of +conviction which never could have been produced by any mere appeals +to the reason. The father felt that he was battered, useless, and a +failure, but that in the boy there were unknown possibilities, and +that he might in after life say that it was to this battered, useless +failure of a father he owed his success. There was nothing now that +he would not do to help Tom's education, and we joyfully aided as +best we could. So, partly I believe by us, but far more by nature +herself, John's salvation was wrought out at least in a measure; +discord by the intervention of another note resolved itself into a +kind of harmony, and even through the skylight in the Strand a +glimpse of the azure was obtained. + +I hope my readers, if I should ever have any, will remember that what +I wish to do is to give some account of the manner in which we sought +to be of service to the small and very humble circle of persons whom +we had collected about us. I have preserved no record of anything; I +am merely putting down what now comes into my mind--the two or three +articles, not thirty-nine, nor, alas! a third of that number--which +we were able to hold. I recollect one or two more which perhaps are +worth preservation. In my younger days the aim of theologians was +the justification of the ways of God to man. They could not succeed. +They succeeded no better than ourselves in satisfying the intellect +with a system. Nor does the Christian religion profess any such +satisfaction. It teaches rather the great doctrine of a Remedy, of a +Mediator; and therein it is profoundly true. It is unphilosophical +in the sense that it offers no explanation from a single principle, +and leaves the ultimate mystery as dark as before, but it is in +accordance with our intuitions. Everywhere in nature we see exaction +of penalties down to the uttermost farthing, but following after this +we discern forgiveness, obliterating and restorative. Both +tendencies exist. Nature is Rhadamanthine, and more so, for she +visits the sins of the fathers upon the children; but there is in her +also an infinite Pity, healing all wounds, softening all calamities, +ever hastening to alleviate and repair. Christianity in strange +historical fashion is an expression of nature, a projection of her +into a biography and a creed. + +We endeavoured to follow Christianity in the depth of its distinction +between right and wrong. Herein this religion is of priceless value. +Philosophy proclaims the unity of our nature. To philosophy every +passion is as natural as every act of saintlike negation, and one of +the usual effects of thinking or philosophising is to bring together +all that is apparently contrary in man, and to show how it proceeds +really from one centre. But Christianity had not to propound a +theory of man; it had to redeem the world. It laid awful stress on +the duality in us, and the stress laid on that duality is the world's +salvation. The words right and wrong are not felt now as they were +felt by Paul. They shade off one into the other. Nevertheless, if +mankind is not to be lost, the ancient antagonism must be maintained. +The shallowest of mortals is able now to laugh at the notion of a +personal devil. No doubt there is no such thing existent; but the +horror at evil which could find no other expression than in the +creation of a devil is no subject for laughter, and if it do not in +some shape or other survive, the race itself will not survive. No +religion, so far as I know, has dwelt like Christianity with such +profound earnestness on the bisection of man--on the distinction +within him, vital to the very last degree, between the higher and the +lower, heaven and hell. What utter folly is it because of an antique +vesture to condemn as effete what the vesture clothes! Its doctrine +and its sacred story are fixtures in concrete form of precious +thoughts purchased by blood and tears. + +I fancy I see the sneer of theologians and critics at our efforts. +The theologians will mock us because we had nothing better to say. I +can only reply that we did our best. We said all we knew, and we +would most thankfully have said more, had we been sure that it must +be true. I would remind, too, those of our judges who think that we +were such wretched mortals, blind leaders of the blind, that there +have been long ages during which men never pretended to understand +more than we professed to understand. To say nothing of the Jews, +whose meagre system would certainly not have been thought either +satisfying or orthodox by modern Christians, the Greeks and Romans +lived in no clearer light than that which shines on me. The critics, +too, will condemn because of our weakness; but this defect I at once +concede. The severest critic could not possibly be so severe as I am +upon myself. I KNOW my failings. He, probably, would miss many of +them. But, again I urge that men are not to be debarred by reason of +weakness from doing what little good may lie within reach of their +hands. Had we attempted to save scholars and thinkers we should have +deserved the ridicule with which no doubt we shall be visited. We +aspired to save nobody. We knew no salvation ourselves. We ventured +humbly to bring a feeble ray of light into the dwellings of two or +three poor men and women; and if Prometheus, fettered to his rock, +dwelt with pride on the blind hopes which he had caused to visit +mortals, the hopes which "stopped the continued anticipation of their +destiny," we perhaps may be pardoned if at times we thought that what +we were doing was not altogether vanity. + + + +CHAPTER VII--QUI DEDIT IN MARI VIAM + + + +From time to time I received a newspaper from my native town, and one +morning, looking over the advertisements, I caught sight of one which +arrested me. It was as follows:- + + +"A Widow Lady desires a situation as Daily Governess to little +children. Address E. B., care of Mrs. George Andrews, Fancy Bazaar, +High Street." + + +Mrs. George Andrews was a cousin of Ellen Butts, and that this was +her advertisement I had not the slightest doubt. Suddenly, without +being able to give the least reason for it, an unconquerable desire +to see her arose within me. I could not understand it. I +recollected that memorable resolution after Miss Arbour's story years +ago. How true that counsel of Miss Arbour's was! and yet it had the +defect of most counsel. It was but a principle; whether it suited +this particular case was the one important point on which Miss Arbour +was no authority. What WAS it which prompted this inexplicable +emotion? A thousand things rushed through my head without reason or +order. I begin to believe that a first love never dies. A boy falls +in love at eighteen or nineteen. The attachment comes to nothing. +It is broken off for a multitude of reasons, and he sees its +absurdity. He marries afterwards some other woman whom he even +adores, and he has children for whom he spends his life; yet in an +obscure corner of his soul he preserves everlastingly the cherished +picture of the girl who first was dear to him. She, too, marries. +In process of time she is fifty years old, and he is fifty-two. He +has not seen her for thirty years or more, but he continually turns +aside into the little oratory, to gaze upon the face as it last +appeared to him when he left her at her gate and saw her no more. He +inquires now and then timidly about her whenever he gets the chance. +And once in his life he goes down to the town where she lives, solely +in order to get a sight of her without her knowing anything about it. +He does not succeed, and he comes back and tells his wife, from whom +he never conceals any secrets, that he has been away on business. I +did not for a moment confess that my love for Ellen had returned. I +knew who she was and what she was, and what had led to our +separation; but nevertheless, all this obstinately remained in the +background, and all the passages of love between us, all our kisses, +and above everything, her tears at that parting in her father's +house, thrust themselves upon me. It was a mystery to me. What +should have induced that utterly unexpected resurrection of what I +believed to be dead and buried, is beyond my comprehension. However, +the fact remains. I did not to myself admit that this was love, but +it WAS love, and that it should have shot up with such swift vitality +merely because I had happened to see those initials was miraculous. +I pretended to myself that I should like once more to see Mrs. Butts- +-perhaps she might be in want and I could help her. I shrank from +writing to her or from making myself known to her, and at last I hit +upon the expedient of answering her advertisement in a feigned name, +and requesting her to call at the King's Arms hotel upon a gentleman +who wished to engage a widow lady to teach his children. To prevent +any previous inquiries on her part, I said that my name was Williams, +that I lived in the country at some little distance from the town, +but that I should be there on business on the day named. I took up +my quarters at the King's Arms the night before. It seemed very +strange to be in an inn in the place in which I was born. I retired +early to my bedroom, and looked out in the clear moonlight over the +river. The landscape seemed haunted by ghosts of my former self. At +one particular point, so well known, I stood fishing. At another, +equally well known, where the water was dangerously deep, I was +examining the ice; and round the corner was the boathouse where we +kept the little craft in which I had voyaged so many hundreds of +miles on excursions upwards beyond where the navigation ends, or, +still more fascinating, down to where the water widens and sails are +to be seen, and there is a foretaste of the distant sea. It is no +pleasure to me to revisit scenes in which earlier days have been +passed. I detest the sentimental melancholy which steals over me; +the sense of the lapse of time, and the reflection that so many whom +I knew are dead. I would always, if possible, spend my holiday in +some new scene, fresh to me, and full of new interest. I slept but +little, and when the morning came, instead of carrying out my purpose +of wandering through the streets, I was so sick of the mood by which +I had been helplessly overcome, that I sat at a distance from the +window in the coffee-room, and read diligently last week's Bell's +Weekly Messenger. My reading, however, was nothing. I do not +suppose I comprehended the simplest paragraph. My thoughts were +away, and I watched the clock slowly turning towards the hour when +Ellen was to call. I foresaw that I should not be able to speak to +her at the inn. If I have anything particular to say to anybody, I +can always say it so much better out of doors. I dreaded the +confinement of the room, and the necessity for looking into her face. +Under the sky, and in motion, I should be more at liberty. At last +eleven struck from the church in the square, and five minutes +afterwards the waiter entered to announce Mrs. Butts. I was +therefore right, and she was "E. B." I was sure that I should not be +recognised. Since I saw her last I had grown a beard, my hair had +got a little grey, and she was always a little short-sighted. She +came in, and as she entered she put away over her bonnet her thick +black veil. Not ten seconds passed before she was seated on the +opposite side of the table to that on which I was sitting, but I re- +read in her during those ten seconds the whole history of years. I +cannot say that externally she looked worn or broken. I had imagined +that I should see her undone with her great troubles, but to some +extent, and yet not altogether, I was mistaken. The cheek-bones were +more prominent than of old, and her dark-brown hair drawn tightly +over her forehead increased the clear paleness of the face; the just +perceptible tint of colour which I recollect being now altogether +withdrawn. But she was not haggard, and evidently not vanquished. +There was even a gaiety on her face, perhaps a trifle enforced, and +although the darkness of sorrow gleamed behind it, the sorrow did not +seem to be ultimate, but to be in front of a final background, if not +of joy, at least of resignation. Her ancient levity of manner had +vanished, or at most had left nothing but a trace. I thought I +detected it here and there in a line about the mouth, and perhaps in +her walk. There was a reminiscence of it too in her clothes. +Notwithstanding poverty and distress, the old neatness--that +particular care which used to charm me so when I was little more than +a child, was there still. I was always susceptible to this virtue, +and delicate hands and feet, with delicate care bestowed thereon, +were more attractive to me than slovenly beauty. I noticed that the +gloves, though mended, fitted with the same precision, and that her +dress was unwrinkled and perfectly graceful. Whatever she might have +had to endure, it had not destroyed that self-centred satisfaction +which makes life tolerable. + +I was impelled at once to say that I had to beg her pardon for asking +her there. Unfortunately I was obliged to go over to Cowston, a +village which was about three miles from the town. Perhaps she would +not mind walking part of the way with me through the meadows, and +then we could talk with more freedom, as I should not feel pressed +for time. To this arrangement she at once agreed, and dropping her +thick veil over her face, we went out. In a few minutes we were +clear of the houses, and I began the conversation. + +"Have you been in the habit of teaching?" + +"No. The necessity for taking to it has only lately arisen." + +"What can you teach?" + +"Not much beyond what children of ten or eleven years old are +expected to know; but I could take charge of them entirely." + +"Have you any children of your own?" + +"One." + +"Could you take a situation as resident teacher if you have a child?" + +"I must get something to do, and if I can make no arrangement by +which my child can live with me, I shall try and place her with a +friend. I may be able to hear of some appointment as a daily +governess." + +"I should have thought that in your native town you would have been +easily able to find employment--you must be well known?" + +There was a pause, and after a moment or so she said:- + +"We were well known once, but we went abroad and lost all our money. +My husband died abroad. When I returned, I found that there was very +little which my friends could do for me. I am not accomplished, and +there are crowds of young women who are more capable than I am. +Moreover, I saw that I was becoming a burden, and people called on me +rather as a matter of duty than for any other reason. You don't know +how soon all but the very best insensibly neglect very poor relatives +if they are not gifted or attractive. I do not wonder at being made +to feel this, nor do I blame anybody. My little girl is a cripple, +my rooms are dull, and I have nothing in me with which to amuse or +entertain visitors. Pardon my going into this detail. It was +necessary to say something in order to explain my position." + +"May I ask what salary you will require if you live in the house?" + +"Five-and-thirty pounds a year, but I might take less if I were asked +to do so." + +"Are you a member of the Church of England?" + +"No." + +"To what religious body do you belong?" + +"I am an Independent, but I would go to Church if my employers wished +it." + +"I thought the Independents objected to go to Church." + +"They do; but I should not object, if I could hear anything at the +Church which would help me." + +"I am rather surprised at your indifference." + +"I was once more particular, but I have seen much suffering, and some +things which were important to me are not so now, and others which +were not important have become so." + +I then made up a little story. My sister and I lived together. We +were about to take up our abode at Cowston, but were as yet strangers +to it. I was left a widower with two little children whom my sister +could not educate, as she could not spare the time. She would +naturally have selected the governess herself, but she was at some +distance. She would like to see Mrs. Butts before engaging her +finally, but she thought that as this advertisement presented itself, +I might make some preliminary inquiries. Perhaps, however, now that +Mrs. Butts knew the facts, she would object to living in the house. +I put it in this way, feeling sure that she would catch my meaning. + +"I am afraid that this situation will not suit me. I could not go +backwards and forwards so far every day." + +"I understand you perfectly, and feared that this would be your +decision. But if you hesitate, I can give you the best of +references. I had not thought of that before. References of course +will be required by you as well as by me." + +I put my hand in my pocket for my pocket-book, but I could not find +it. We had now reached a part of our road familiar enough to both of +us. Along that very path Ellen and I had walked years ago. Under +those very trees, on that very seat had we sat, and she and I were +there again. All the old confidences, confessions, tendernesses, +rushed upon me. What is there which is more potent than the +recollection of past love to move us to love, and knit love with +closest bonds? Can we ever cease to love the souls who have once +shared all that we know and feel? Can we ever be indifferent to +those who have our secrets, and whose secrets we hold? As I looked +at her, I remembered what she knew about me, and what I knew about +her, and this simple thought so overmastered me, that I could hold +out no longer. I said to her that if she would like to rest for one +moment, I might be able to find my papers. We sat down together, and +she drew up her veil to read the address which I was about to give +her. She glanced at me, as I thought, with a strange expression of +excited interrogation, and something swiftly passed across her face, +which warned me that I had not a moment to lose. I took out one of +my own cards, handed it to her, and said, "Here is a reference which +perhaps you may know." She bent over it, turned to me, fixed her +eyes intently and directly on mine for one moment, and then I thought +she would have fallen. My arm was around her in an instant, her head +was on my shoulder, and my many wanderings were over. It was broad, +high, sunny noon, the most solitary hour of the daylight in those +fields. We were roused by the distant sound of the town clock +striking twelve; we rose and went on together to Cowston by the river +bank, returning late in the evening. + + + +CHAPTER VIII--FLAGELLUM NON APPROQUINABIT TABERNACULO TUO + + + +I suppose that the reason why in novels the story ends with a +marriage is partly that the excitement of the tale ceases then, and +partly also because of a theory that marriage is an epoch, +determining the career of life after it. The epoch once announced, +nothing more need be explained; everything else follows as a matter +of course. These notes of mine are autobiographical, and not a +romance. I have never known much about epochs. I have had one or +two, one specially when I first began to read and think; but after +that, if I have changed, it has been slowly and imperceptibly. My +life, therefore, is totally unfitted to be the basis of fiction. My +return to Ellen, and our subsequent marriage, were only partially an +epoch. A change had come, but it was one which had long been +preparing. Ellen's experiences had altered her position, and mine +too was altered. She had been driven into religion by trouble, and +knowing nothing of criticism or philosophy, retained the old forms +for her religious feeling. But the very quickness of her emotion +caused her to welcome all new and living modes of expressing it. It +is only when feeling has ceased to accompany a creed that it becomes +fixed, and verbal departures from it are counted heresy. I too cared +less for argument, and it even gave me pleasure to talk in her +dialect, so familiar to me, but for so many years unused. + +It was now necessary for me to add to my income. I had nothing upon +which to depend save my newspaper, which was obviously insufficient. +At last, I succeeded in obtaining some clerical employment. For no +other work was I fit, for my training had not been special in any one +direction. My hours were long, from ten in the morning till seven in +the evening, and as I was three miles distant from the office, I was +really away from home for eleven hours every day, excepting on +Sundays. I began to calculate that my life consisted of nothing but +the brief spaces allowed to me for rest, and these brief spaces I +could not enjoy because I dwelt upon their brevity. There was some +excuse for me. Never could there be any duty incumbent upon man much +more inhuman and devoid of interest than my own. How often I thought +about my friend Clark, and his experiences became mine. The whole +day I did nothing but write, and what I wrote called forth no single +faculty of the mind. Nobody who has not tried such an occupation can +possibly forecast the strange habits, humours, fancies, and diseases +which after a time it breeds. I was shut up in a room half below the +ground. In this room were three other men besides myself, two of +them between fifty and sixty, and one about three or four-and-twenty. +All four of us kept books or copied letters from ten to seven, with +an interval of three-quarters of an hour for dinner. In all three of +these men, as in the case of Clark's companions, there had been +developed, partly I suppose by the circumstance of enforced idleness +of brain, the most loathsome tendency to obscenity. This was the one +subject which was common ground, and upon which they could talk. It +was fostered too by a passion for beer, which was supplied by the +publican across the way, who was perpetually travelling to and fro +with cans. My horror when I first found out into what society I was +thrust was unspeakable. There was a clock within a hundred yards of +my window which struck the hours and quarters. How I watched that +clock! My spirits rose or fell with each division of the day. From +ten to twelve there was nothing but gloom. By half-past twelve I +began to discern dinner time, and the prospect was brighter. After +dinner there was nothing to be done but doggedly to endure until +five, and at five I was able to see over the distance from five to +seven. My disgust at my companions, however, came to be mixed with +pity. I found none of them cruel, and I received many little +kindnesses from them. I discovered that their trade was largely +answerable for the impurity of thought and speech which so shocked +me. Its monotony compelled some countervailing stimulus, and as they +had never been educated to care for anything in particular, they +found the necessary relief in sensuality. At first they "chaffed" +and worried me a good deal because of my silence, but at last they +began to think I was "religious," and then they ceased to torment me. +I rather encouraged them in the belief that I had a right to +exemption from their conversation, and I passed, I believe, for a +Plymouth brother. The only thing which they could not comprehend was +that I made no attempt to convert them. + +The whole establishment was under the rule of a deputy-manager, who +was the terror of the place. He was tall, thin, and suffered +occasionally from spitting of blood, brought on no doubt from +excitement. He was the strangest mixture of exactitude and passion. +He had complete mastery over every detail of the business, and he +never blundered. All his work was thorough, down to the very bottom, +and he had the most intolerant hatred of everything which was loose +and inaccurate. He never passed a day without flaming out into oaths +and curses against his subordinates, and they could not say in his +wildest fury that his ravings were beside the mark. He was wrong in +his treatment of men--utterly wrong--but his facts were always +correct. I never saw anybody hated as he was, and the hatred against +him was the more intense because nobody could convict him of a +mistake. He seemed to enjoy a storm, and knew nothing whatever of +the constraints which with ordinary men prevent abusive and brutal +language to those around them. Some of his clerks suffered greatly +from him, and he almost broke down two or three from the constant +nervous strain upon them produced by fear of his explosions. For my +own part, although I came in for a full share of his temper, I at +once made up my mind as soon as I discovered what he was, not to open +my lips to him except under compulsion. My one object now was to get +a living. I wished also to avoid the self-mortification which must +ensue from altercation. I dreaded, as I have always dreaded beyond +what I can tell, the chaos and wreck which, with me, follows +subjugation by anger, and I held to my resolve under all provocation. +It was very difficult, but how many times I have blessed myself for +adhesion to it. Instead of going home undone with excitement, and +trembling with fear of dismissal, I have walked out of my dungeon +having had to bite my lips till the blood came, but still conqueror, +and with peace of mind. + +Another stratagem of defence which I adopted at the office was never +to betray to a soul anything about myself. Nobody knew anything +about me, whether I was married or single, where I lived, or what I +thought upon a single subject of any importance. I cut off my office +life in this way from my life at home so completely that I was two +selves, and my true self was not stained by contact with my other +self. It was a comfort to me to think the moment the clock struck +seven that my second self died, and that my first self suffered +nothing by having anything to do with it. I was not the person who +sat at the desk downstairs and endured the abominable talk of his +colleagues and the ignominy of serving such a chief. I knew nothing +about him. I was a citizen walking London streets; I had my opinions +upon human beings and books; I was on equal terms with my friends; I +was Ellen's husband; I was, in short, a man. By this scrupulous +isolation, I preserved myself, and the clerk was not debarred from +the domain of freedom. + +It is very terrible to think that the labour by which men are to live +should be of this order. The ideal of labour is that it should be +something in which we can take an interest and even a pride. Immense +masses of it in London are the merest slavery, and it is as +mechanical as the daily journey of the omnibus horse. There is no +possibility of relieving it, and all the ordinary copybook advice of +moralists and poets as to the temper in which we should earn our +bread is childish nonsense. If a man is a painter, or a physician, +or a barrister, or even a tradesman, well and good. The maxims of +authors may be of some service to him, and he may be able to +exemplify them; but if he is a copying clerk they are an insult, and +he can do nothing but arch his back to bear his burden and find some +compensation elsewhere. True it is, that beneficent Nature here, as +always, is helpful. Habit, after a while, mitigated much of the +bitterness of destiny. The hard points of the flint became smoothed +and worn away by perpetual tramping over them, so that they no longer +wounded with their original sharpness; and the sole of the foot was +in time provided with a merciful callosity. Then, too, there was +developed an appetite which was voracious for all that was best. Who +shall tell the revulsion on reaching home, which I should never have +known had I lived a life of idleness! Ellen was fond of hearing me +read, and with a little care I was able to select what would bear +reading--dramas, for example. She liked the reading for the +reading's sake, and she liked to know that what I thought was +communicated to her; that she was not excluded from the sphere in +which I lived. Of the office she never heard a word, and I never +would tell her anything about it; but there was scarcely a single +book in my possession which could be read aloud, that we did not go +through together in this way. I don't prescribe this kind of life to +everybody. Some of my best friends, I know, would find it +intolerable, but it suited us. Philosophy and religion I did not +touch. It was necessary to choose themes with varying human +interest, such as the best works of fiction, a play, or a poem; and +these perhaps, on the whole, did me more good at that time than +speculation. Oh, how many times have I left my office humiliated by +some silently endured outbreak on the part of my master, more galling +because I could not put it aside as altogether gratuitous; and in +less than an hour it was two miles away, and I was myself again. If +a man wants to know what the potency of love is, he must be a menial; +he must be despised. Those who are prosperous and courted cannot +understand its power. Let him come home after he has suffered what +is far worse than hatred--the contempt of a superior, who knows that +he can afford to be contemptuous, seeing that he can replace his +slave at a moment's notice. Let him be trained by his tyrant to +dwell upon the thought that he belongs to the vast crowd of people in +London who are unimportant; almost useless; to whom it is a charity +to offer employment; who are conscious of possessing no gift which +makes them of any value to anybody, and he will then comprehend the +divine efficacy of the affection of that woman to whom he is dear. +God's mercy be praised ever more for it! I cannot write poetry, but +if I could, no theme would tempt me like that of love to such a +person as I was--not love, as I say again, to the hero, but love to +the Helot. Over and over again, when I have thought about it, I have +felt my poor heart swell with a kind of uncontrollable fervour. I +have often, too, said to myself that this love is no delusion. If we +were to set it down as nothing more than a merciful cheat on the part +of the Creator, however pleasant it might be, it would lose its +charm. If I were to think that my wife's devotion to me is nothing +more than the simple expression of a necessity to love somebody, that +there is nothing in me which justifies such devotion, I should be +miserable. Rather, I take it, is the love of woman to man a +revelation of the relationship in which God stands to him--of what +OUGHT to be, in fact. In the love of a woman to the man who is of no +account God has provided us with a true testimony of what is in His +own heart. I often felt this when looking at myself and at Ellen. +"What is there in me?" I have said, "is she not the victim of some +self-created deception?" and I was wretched till I considered that in +her I saw the Divine Nature itself, and that her passion was a stream +straight from the Highest. The love of woman is, in other words, a +living witness never failing of an actuality in God which otherwise +we should never know. This led me on to connect it with +Christianity; but I am getting incoherent and must stop. + +My employment now was so incessant, for it was still necessary that I +should write for my newspaper--although my visits to the House of +Commons had perforce ceased--that I had no time for any schemes or +dreams such as those which had tormented me when I had more leisure. +In one respect this was a blessing. Destiny now had prescribed for +me. I was no longer agitated by ignorance of what I ought to do. My +present duty was obviously to get my own living, and having got that, +I could do little besides save continue the Sundays with M'Kay. + +We were almost entirely alone. We had no means of making any +friends. We had no money, and no gifts of any kind. We were neither +of us witty nor attractive, but I have often wondered, nevertheless, +what it was which prevented us from obtaining acquaintance with +persons who thronged to houses in which I could see nothing worth a +twopenny omnibus fare. Certain it is, that we went out of our way +sometimes to induce people to call upon us whom we thought we should +like; but, if they came once or twice, they invariably dropped off, +and we saw no more of them. This behaviour was so universal that, +without the least affectation, I acknowledge there must be something +repellent in me, but what it is I cannot tell. That Ellen was the +cause of the general aversion, it is impossible to believe. The only +theory I have is, that partly owing to a constant sense of fatigue, +due to imperfect health, and partly to chafing irritation at mere +gossip, although I had no power to think of anything better, or say +anything better myself, I was avoided both by the commonplace and +those who had talent. Commonplace persons avoided me because I did +not chatter, and persons of talent because I stood for nothing. +"There was nothing in me." We met at M'Kay's two gentlemen whom we +thought we might invite to our house. One of them was an +antiquarian. He had discovered in an excavation in London some Roman +remains. This had led him on to the study of the position and +boundaries of the Roman city. He had become an authority upon this +subject, and had lectured upon it. He came; but as we were utterly +ignorant, and could not, with all our efforts, manifest any sympathy +which he valued at the worth of a pin, he soon departed, and departed +for ever. The second was a student of Elizabethan literature, and I +rashly concluded at once that he must be most delightful. He +likewise came. I showed him my few poor books, which he condemned, +and I found that such observations as I could make he considered as +mere twaddle. I knew nothing, or next to nothing, about the editions +or the curiosities, or the proposed emendations of obscure passages, +and he, too, departed abruptly. I began to think after he had gone +that my study of Shakespeare was mere dilettantism but I afterwards +came to the conclusion that if a man wishes to spoil himself for +Shakespeare, the best thing he can do is to turn Shakespearian +critic. + +My worst enemy at this time was ill health, and it was more +distressing than it otherwise would have been, because I had such +responsibilities upon me. When I lived alone I knew that if anything +should happen to me it would be of no particular consequence, but now +whenever I felt sick I was anxious on account of Ellen. What would +become of her--this was the thought which kept me awake night after +night when the terrors of depression were upon me, as they often +were. But still, terrors with growing years had lost their ancient +strength. My brain and nerves were quiet compared with what they +were in times gone by, and I had gradually learned the blessed lesson +which is taught by familiarity with sorrow, that the greater part of +what is dreadful in it lies in the imagination. The true Gorgon head +is seldom seen in reality. That it exists I do not doubt, but it is +not so commonly visible as we think. Again, as we get older we find +that all life is given us on conditions of uncertainty, and yet we +walk courageously on. The labourer marries and has children, when +there is nothing but his own strength between him and ruin. A +million chances are encountered every day, and any one of the million +accidents which might happen would cripple him or kill him, and put +into the workhouse those who depend upon him. Yet he treads his path +undisturbed. Life to all of us is a narrow plank placed across a +gulf, which yawns on either side, and if we were perpetually looking +down into it we should fall. So at last, the possibility of disaster +ceased to affright me. I had been brought off safely so many times +when destruction seemed imminent, that I grew hardened, and lay down +quietly at night, although the whim of a madman might to-morrow cast +me on the pavement. Frequently, as I have said, I could not do this, +but I strove to do it, and was able to do it when in health. + +I tried to think about nothing which expressed whatever in the world +may be insoluble or simply tragic. A great change is just beginning +to come over us in this respect. So many books I find are written +which aim merely at new presentation of the hopeless. The +contradictions of fate, the darkness of death, the fleeting of man +over this brief stage of existence, whence we know not, and whither +we know not, are favourite subjects with writers who seem to think +that they are profound, because they can propose questions which +cannot be answered. There is really more strength of mind required +for resolving the commonest difficulty than is necessary for the +production of poems on these topics. The characteristic of so much +that is said and written now is melancholy; and it is melancholy, not +because of any deeper acquaintance with the secrets of man than that +which was possessed by our forefathers, but because it is easy to be +melancholy, and the time lacks strength. + +As I am now setting down, without much order or connection, the +lessons which I had to learn, I may perhaps be excused if I add one +or two others. I can say of them all, that they are not book +lessons. They have been taught me by my own experience, and as a +rule I have always found that in my own most special perplexities I +got but little help from books or other persons. I had to find out +for myself what was for me the proper way of dealing with them. + +My love for Ellen was great, but I discovered that even such love as +this could not be left to itself. It wanted perpetual cherishing. +The lamp, if it was to burn brightly, required daily trimming, for +people became estranged and indifferent, not so much by open quarrel +or serious difference, as by the intervention of trifles which need +but the smallest, although continuous effort for their removal. The +true wisdom is to waste no time over them, but to eject them at once. +Love, too, requires that the two persons who love one another shall +constantly present to one another what is best in them, and to +accomplish this, deliberate purpose, and even struggle, are +necessary. If through relapse into idleness we do not attempt to +bring soul and heart into active communion day by day, what wonder if +this once exalted relationship become vulgar and mean? + +I was much overworked. It was not the work itself which was such a +trial, but the time it consumed. At best, I had but a clear space of +an hour, or an hour and a half at home, and to slave merely for this +seemed such a mockery! Day after day sped swiftly by, made up of +nothing but this infernal drudgery, and I said to myself--Is this +life? But I made up my mind that NEVER WOULD I GIVE MYSELF TONGUE. +I clapped a muzzle on my mouth. Had I followed my own natural bent, +I should have become expressive about what I had to endure, but I +found that expression reacts on him who expresses and intensifies +what is expressed. If we break out into rhetoric over a toothache, +the pangs are not the easier, but the worse to be borne. + +I naturally contracted a habit of looking forward from the present +moment to one beyond. The whole week seemed to exist for the Sunday. +On Monday morning I began counting the hours till Sunday should +arrive. The consequence was, that when it came, it was not enjoyed +properly, and I wasted it in noting the swiftness of its flight. Oh, +how absurd is man! If we were to reckon up all the moments which we +really enjoy for their own sake, how few should we find them to be! +The greatest part, far the greatest part, of our lives is spent in +dreaming over the morrow, and when it comes, it, too, is consumed in +the anticipation of a brighter morrow, and so the cheat is prolonged, +even to the grave. This tendency, unconquerable though it may appear +to be, can to a great extent at any rate, be overcome by strenuous +discipline. I tried to blind myself to the future, and many and many +a time, as I walked along that dreary New Road or Old St. Pancras +Road, have I striven to compel myself not to look at the image of +Hampstead Heath or Regent's Park, as yet six days in front of me, but +to get what I could out of what was then with me. + +The instinct which leads us perpetually to compare what we are with +what we might be is no doubt of enormous value, and is the spring +which prompts all action, but, like every instinct, it is the source +of greatest danger. I remember the day and the very spot on which it +flashed into me, like a sudden burst of the sun's rays, that I had no +right to this or that--to so much happiness, or even so much virtue. +What title-deeds could I show for such a right? Straightway it +seemed as if the centre of a whole system of dissatisfaction were +removed, and as if the system collapsed. God, creating from His +infinite resources a whole infinitude of beings, had created me with +a definite position on the scale, and that position only could I +claim. Cease the trick of contrast. If I can by any means get +myself to consider myself alone without reference to others, +discontent will vanish. I walk this Old St. Pancras Road on foot-- +another rides. Keep out of view him who rides and all persons +riding, and I shall not complain that I tramp in the wet. So also +when I think how small and weak I am. + +How foolish it is to try and cure by argument what time will cure so +completely and so gently if left to itself. As I get older, the +anxiety to prove myself right if I quarrel dies out. I hold my +tongue and time vindicates me, if it is possible to vindicate me, or +convicts me if I am wrong. Many and many a debate too which I have +had with myself alone has been settled in the same way. The question +has been put aside and has lost its importance. The ancient Church +thought, and seriously enough, no doubt, that all the vital interests +of humanity were bound up with the controversies upon the Divine +nature; but the centuries have rolled on, and who cares for those +controversies now. The problems of death and immortality once upon a +time haunted me so that I could hardly sleep for thinking about them. +I cannot tell how, but so it is, that at the present moment, when I +am years nearer the end, they trouble me but very little. If I could +but bury and let rot things which torment me and come to no +settlement--if I could always do this--what a blessing it would be. + + + +CHAPTER IX--HOLIDAYS + + + +I have said that Ellen had a child by her first husband. Marie, for +that was her name, was now ten years old. She was like neither her +mother nor father, and yet was SHOT as it were with strange gleams +which reminded me of her paternal grandmother for a moment, and then +disappeared. She had rather coarse dark hair, small black eyes, +round face, and features somewhat blunt or blurred, the nose in +particular being so. She had a tendency to be stout. For books she +did not care, and it was with the greatest difficulty we taught her +to read. She was not orderly or careful about her person, and in +this respect was a sore disappointment--not that she was positively +careless, but she took no pride in dress, nor in keeping her room and +her wardrobe neat. She was fond of bright colours, which was another +trial to Ellen, who disliked any approach to gaudiness. She was not +by any means a fool, and she had a peculiarly swift mode of +expressing herself upon persons and things. A stranger looking at +her would perhaps have adjudged her inclined to sensuousness, and +dull. She was neither one nor the other. She ate little, although +she was fond of sweets. Her rather heavy face, with no clearly cut +outline in it, was not the typical face for passion; but she was +capable of passion to an extraordinary degree, and what is more +remarkable, it was not explosive passion, or rather it was not +passion which she suffered to explode. I remember once when she was +a little mite she was asked out somewhere to tea. She was dressed +and ready, but it began to rain fast, and she was told she could not +go. She besought, but it was in vain. We could not afford cabs, and +there was no omnibus. Marie, finding all her entreaties were +useless, quietly walked out of the room; and after some little time +her mother, calling her and finding she did not come, went to look +for her. She had gone into the back-yard, and was sitting there in +the rain by the side of the water-butt. She was soaked, and her best +clothes were spoiled. I must confess that I did not take very kindly +to her. I was irritated at her slowness in learning; it was, in +fact, painful to be obliged to teach her. I thought that perhaps she +might have some undeveloped taste for music, but she showed none, and +our attempts to get her to sing ordinary melodies were a failure. +She was more or less of a locked cabinet to me. I tried her with the +two or three keys which I had, but finding that none of them fitted, +I took no more pains about her. + +One Sunday we determined upon a holiday. It was a bold adventure for +us, but we had made up our minds. There was an excursion train to +Hastings, and accordingly Ellen, Marie, and myself were at London +Bridge Station early in the morning. It was a lovely summer's day in +mid-July. The journey down was uncomfortable enough in consequence +of the heat and dust, but we heeded neither one nor the other in the +hope of seeing the sea. We reached Hastings at about eleven o'clock, +and strolled westwards towards Bexhill. Our pleasure was exquisite. +Who can tell, save the imprisoned Londoner, the joy of walking on the +clean sea-sand! What a delight that was, to say nothing of the +beauty of the scenery! To be free of the litter and filth of a +London suburb, of its broken hedges, its brickbats, its torn +advertisements, its worn and trampled grass in fields half given over +to the speculative builder: in place of this, to tread the +immaculate shore over which breathed a wind not charged with soot; to +replace the dull, shrouding obscurity of the smoke by a distance so +distinct that the masts of the ships whose hulls were buried below +the horizon were visible--all this was perfect bliss. It was not +very poetic bliss, perhaps; but nevertheless it is a fact that the +cleanness of the sea and the sea air was as attractive to us as any +of the sea attributes. We had a wonderful time. Only in the country +is it possible to note the change of morning into mid-day, of mid-day +into afternoon, and of afternoon into evening; and it is only in the +country, therefore, that a day seems stretched out into its proper +length. We had brought all our food with us, and sat upon the shore +in the shadow of a piece of the cliff. A row of heavy white clouds +lay along the horizon almost unchangeable and immovable, with their +summit-lines and the part of the mass just below them steeped in +sunlight. The level opaline water differed only from a floor by a +scarcely perceptible heaving motion, which broke into the faintest of +ripples at our feet. So still was the great ocean, so quietly did +everything lie in it, that the wavelets which licked the beach were +as pure and bright as if they were a part of the mid-ocean depths. +About a mile from us, at one o'clock, a long row of porpoises +appeared, showing themselves in graceful curves for half-an-hour or +so, till they went out farther to sea off Fairlight. Some fishing- +boats were becalmed just in front of us. Their shadows slept, or +almost slept, upon the water, a gentle quivering alone showing that +it was not complete sleep, or if sleep, that it was sleep with +dreams. The intensity of the sunlight sharpened the outlines of +every little piece of rock, and of the pebbles, in a manner which +seemed supernatural to us Londoners. In London we get the heat of +the sun, but not his light, and the separation of individual parts +into such vivid isolation was so surprising that even Marie noticed +it, and said it "all seemed as if she were looking through a glass." +It was perfect--perfect in its beauty--and perfect because, from the +sun in the heavens down to the fly with burnished wings on the hot +rock, there was nothing out of harmony. Everything breathed one +spirit. Marie played near us; Ellen and I sat still, doing nothing. +We wanted nothing, we had nothing to achieve; there were no +curiosities to be seen, there was no particular place to be reached, +no "plan of operations," and London was forgotten for the time. It +lay behind us in the north-west, and the cliff was at the back of us +shutting out all thought of it. No reminiscences and no +anticipations disturbed us; the present was sufficient, and occupied +us totally. + +I should like, if I could, to write an essay upon the art of enjoying +a holiday. It is sad to think how few people know how to enjoy one, +although they are so precious. We do not sufficiently consider that +enjoyment of every kind is an art carefully to be learnt, and +specially the art of making the most of a brief space set apart for +pleasure. It is foolish, for example, if a man, city bred, has but +twelve hours before him, to spend more of it in eating and drinking +than is necessary. Eating and drinking produce stupidity, at least +in some degree, which may just as well be reserved for town. It is +foolish also to load the twelve hours with a task--so much to be +done. The sick person may perhaps want exercise, but to the +tolerably healthy the best of all recreation is the freedom from +fetters even when they are self-imposed. + +Our train homewards was due at Bexhill a little after seven. By five +o'clock a change gradual but swift was observed. The clouds which +had charmed us all through the morning and afternoon were in reality +thunder-clouds, which woke up like a surprised army under perfect +discipline, and moved magnificently towards us. Already afar off we +heard the softened echoing roll of the thunder. Every now and then +we saw a sharp thrust of lightning down into the water, and shuddered +when we thought that perhaps underneath that stab there might be a +ship with living men. The battle at first was at such a distance +that we watched it with intense and solemn delight. As yet not a +breath of air stirred, but presently, over in the south-east, a dark +ruffled patch appeared on the horizon, and we agreed that it was time +to go. The indistinguishable continuous growl now became articulated +into distinct crashes. I had miscalculated the distance to the +station, and before we got there the rain, skirmishing in advance, +was upon us. We took shelter in a cottage for a moment in order that +Ellen might get a glass of water--bad-looking stuff it was, but she +was very thirsty--and put on her cloak. We then started again on our +way. We reached the station at about half-past six, before the +thunder was overhead, but not before Ellen had got wet, despite all +my efforts to protect her. She was also very hot from hurrying, and +yet there was nothing to be done but to sit in a kind of covered shed +till the train came up. The thunder and lightning were, however, so +tremendous, that we thought of nothing else. When they were at their +worst, the lightning looked like the upset of a cauldron of white +glowing metal--with such strength, breadth, and volume did it +descend. Just as the train arrived, the roar began to abate, and in +about half-an-hour it had passed over to the north, leaving behind +the rain, cold and continuous, which fell all round us from a dark, +heavy, grey sky. The carnage in which we were was a third-class, +with seats arranged parallel to the sides. It was crowded, and we +were obliged to sit in the middle, exposed to the draught which the +tobacco smoke made necessary. Some of the company were noisy, and +before we got to Red Hill became noisier, as the brandy-flasks which +had been well filled at Hastings began to work. Many were drenched, +and this was an excuse for much of the drinking; although for that +matter, any excuse or none is generally sufficient. At Red Hill we +were stopped by other trains, and before we came to Croydon we were +an hour late. We had now become intolerably weary. The songs were +disgusting, and some of the women who were with the men had also been +drinking, and behaved in a manner which it was not pleasant that +Ellen and Marie should see. The carriage was lighted fortunately by +one dim lamp only which hung in the middle, and I succeeded at last +in getting seats at the further end, where there was a knot of more +decent persons who had huddled up there away from the others. All +the glory of the morning was forgotten. Instead of three happy, +exalted creatures, we were three dejected, shivering mortals, half +poisoned with foul air and the smell of spirits. We crawled up to +London Bridge at the slowest pace, and, finally, the railway company +discharged us on the platform at ten minutes past eleven. Not a +place in any omnibus could be secured, and we therefore walked for a +mile or so till I saw a cab, which--unheard-of expense for me--I +engaged, and we were landed at our own house exactly at half-past +twelve. The first thing to be done was to get Marie to bed. She was +instantly asleep, and was none the worse for her journey. With Ellen +the case was different. She could not sleep, and the next morning +was feverish. She insisted that it was nothing more than a bad cold, +and would on no account permit me even to give her any medicine. She +would get up presently, and she and Marie could get on well enough +together. But when I reached home on Monday evening, Ellen was +worse, and was still in bed. + +I sent at once for the doctor, who would give no opinion for a day or +two, but meanwhile directed that she was to remain where she was, and +take nothing but the lightest food. Tuesday night passed, and the +fever still increased. I had become very anxious, but I dared not +stay with her, for I knew not what might happen if I were absent from +my work. I was obliged to try and think of somebody who would come +and help us. Our friend Taylor, who once was the coal-porter at +Somerset House, came into my mind. He, as I have said when talking +about him, was married, but had no children. To him accordingly I +went. I never shall forget the alacrity with which he prompted his +wife to go, and with which she consented. I was shut up in my own +sufferings, but I remember a flash of joy that all our efforts in our +room had not been in vain. I was delighted that I had secured +assistance, but I do believe the uppermost thought was delight that +we had been able to develop gratitude and affection. Mrs. Taylor was +an "ordinary woman." She was about fifty, rather stout, and entirely +uneducated. But when she took charge at our house, all her best +qualities found expression. It is true enough, omnium consensu capax +imperii nisi imperasset, but it is equally true that under the +pressure of trial and responsibility we are often stronger than when +there is no pressure. Many a man will acknowledge that in difficulty +he has surprised himself by a resource and coolness which he never +suspected before. Mrs. Taylor I always thought to be rather weak and +untrustworthy, but I found that when WEIGHT was placed upon her, she +was steady as a rock, a systematic and a perfect manager. There was +no doubt in a very short time as to the nature of the disease. It +was typhoid fever, the cause probably being the impure water drunk as +we were coming home. I have no mind to describe what Ellen suffered. +Suffice it to say, that her treatment was soon reduced to watching +her every minute night and day, and administering small quantities of +milk. Her prostration and emaciation were excessive, and without the +most constant attention she might at any moment have slipped out of +our hands. I was like a man shipwrecked and alone in a polar +country, whose existence depends upon one spark of fire, which he +tries to cherish, left glimmering in a handful of ashes. Oh those +days, prolonged to weeks, during which that dreadful struggle lasted- +-days swallowed up with one sole, intense, hungry desire that her +life might be spared!--days filled with a forecast of the blackness +and despair before me if she should depart. I tried to obtain +release from the office. The answer was that nobody could of course +prevent my being away, but that it was not usual for a clerk to be +absent merely because his wife was not well. The brute added with a +sneer that a wife was "a luxury" which he should have thought I could +hardly afford. We divided between us, however, at home the twenty- +four hours during which we stood sentinels against death, and +occasionally we were relieved by one or two friends. I went on duty +from about eight in the evening till one in the morning, and was then +relieved by Mrs. Taylor, who remained till ten or eleven. She then +went to bed, and was replaced by little Marie. What a change came +over that child! I was amazed at her. All at once she seemed to +have found what she was born to do. The key had been discovered, +which unlocked and revealed what there was in her, of which hitherto +I had been altogether unaware. Although she was so little, she +became a perfect nurse. Her levity disappeared; she was grave as a +matron, moved about as if shod in felt, never forgot a single +direction, and gave proper and womanly answers to strangers who +called. Faculties unsuspected grew almost to full height in a single +day. Never did she relax during the whole of that dreadful time, or +show the slightest sign of discontent. She sat by her mother's side, +intent, vigilant; and she had her little dinner prepared and taken up +into the sickroom by Mrs. Taylor before she went to bed. I remember +once going to her cot in the night, as she lay asleep, and almost +breaking my heart over her with remorse and thankfulness--remorse, +that I, with blundering stupidity, had judged her so superficially; +and thankfulness, that it had pleased God to present to me so much of +His own divinest grace. Fool that I was, not to be aware that +messages from Him are not to be read through the envelope in which +they are enclosed. I never should have believed, if it had not been +for Marie, that any grown-up man could so love a child. Such love, I +should have said, was only possible between man and woman, or, +perhaps, between man and man. But now I doubt whether a love of that +particular kind could be felt towards any grown-up human being, love +so pure, so imperious, so awful. My love to Marie was love of God +Himself as He is--an unrestrained adoration of an efflux from Him, +adoration transfigured into love, because the revelation had clothed +itself with a child's form. It was, as I say, the love of God as He +is. It was not necessary, as it so often is necessary, to qualify, +to subtract, to consider the other side, to deplore the obscurity or +the earthly contamination with which the Word is delivered to us. +This was the Word itself, without even consciousness on the part of +the instrument selected for its vocalisation. I may appear +extravagant, but I can only put down what I felt and still feel. I +appeal, moreover, to Jesus Himself for justification. I had seen the +kingdom of God through a little child. I, in fact, have done nothing +more than beat out over a page in my own words what passed through +His mind when He called a little child and set him in the midst of +His disciples. How I see the meaning of those words now! and so it +is that a text will be with us for half a lifetime, recognised as +great and good, but not penetrated till the experience comes round to +us in which it was born. + +Six weeks passed before the faint blue point of light which flickered +on the wick began to turn white and show some strength. At last, +however, day by day, we marked a slight accession of vitality which +increased with change of diet. Every evening when I came home I was +gladdened by the tidings which showed advance, and Ellen, I believe, +was as much pleased to see how others rejoiced over her recovery as +she was pleased for her own sake. She, too, was one of those +creatures who always generously admit improvement. For my own part, +I have often noticed that when I have been ill, and have been getting +better, I have refused to acknowledge it, and that it has been an +effort to me to say that things were not at their worst. She, +however, had none of this niggardly baseness, and always, if only for +the sake of her friends, took the cheerful side. Mrs. Taylor now +left us. She left us a friend whose friendship will last, I hope, as +long as life lasts. She had seen all our troubles and our poverty: +we knew that she knew all about us: she had helped us with the most +precious help--what more was there necessary to knit her to us?--and +it is worth noting that the assistance which she rendered, and her +noble self-sacrifice, so far from putting us, in her opinion, in her +debt, only seemed to her a reason why she should be more deeply +attached to us. + +It was late in the autumn before Ellen had thoroughly recovered, but +at last we said that she was as strong as she was before, and we +determined to celebrate our deliverance by one more holiday before +the cold weather came. It was again Sunday--a perfectly still, warm, +autumnal day, with a high barometer and the gentlest of airs from the +west. The morning in London was foggy, so much so that we doubted at +first whether we should go; but my long experience of London fog told +me that we should escape from it with that wind if we got to the +chalk downs away out by Letherhead and Guildford. We took the early +train to a point at the base of the hills, and wound our way up into +the woods at the top. We were beyond the smoke, which rested like a +low black cloud over the city in the north-east, reaching a third of +the way up to the zenith. The beech had changed colour, and glowed +with reddish-brown fire. We sat down on a floor made of the leaves +of last year. At mid-day the stillness was profound, broken only by +the softest of whispers descending from the great trees which spread +over us their protecting arms. Every now and then it died down +almost to nothing, and then slowly swelled and died again, as if the +Gods of the place were engaged in divine and harmonious talk. By +moving a little towards the external edge of our canopy we beheld the +plain all spread out before us, bounded by the heights of Sussex and +Hampshire. It was veiled with the most tender blue, and above it was +spread a sky which was white on the horizon and deepened by degrees +into azure over our heads. The exhilaration of the air satisfied +Marie, although she had no playmate, and there was nothing special +with which she could amuse herself. She wandered about looking for +flowers and ferns, and was content. We were all completely happy. +We strained our eyes to see the furthest point before us, and we +tried to find it on the map we had brought with us. The season of +the year, which is usually supposed to make men pensive, had no such +effect upon us. Everything in the future, even the winter in London, +was painted by Hope, and the death of the summer brought no sadness. +Rather did summer dying in such fashion fill our hearts with repose, +and even more than repose--with actual joy. + + +Here ends the autobiography. A month after this last holiday my +friend was dead and buried. He had unsuspected disease of the heart, +and one day his master, of whom we have heard something, was more +than usually violent. Mark, as his custom was, was silent, but +evidently greatly excited. His tyrant left the room; and in a few +minutes afterwards Mark was seen to turn white and fall forward in +his chair. It was all over! His body was taken to a hospital and +thence sent home. The next morning his salary up to the day of his +death came in an envelope to his widow, without a single word from +his employers save a request for acknowledgment. Towards mid-day, +his office coat, and a book found in his drawer, arrived in a brown +paper parcel, carriage unpaid. + +On looking over his papers, I found the sketch of his life and a mass +of odds and ends, some apparently written for publication. Many of +these had evidently been in envelopes, and had most likely, +therefore, been offered to editors or publishers, but all, I am sure, +had been refused. I add one or two by way of appendix, and hope they +will be thought worth saving. + +R. S. + + + +Footnotes: + +{1} This was written many years ago, but is curiously pertinent to +the discussions of this year.--EDITOR, 1884. + +{2} Not exactly untrue, but it sounds strangely now when socialism, +nationalisation of the land, and other projects have renewed in men +the hope of regeneration by political processes. The reader will, +however, please remember the date of these memoirs.--EDITOR, 1884. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MARK RUTHERFORD'S DELIVERANCE *** + +This file should be named mkrd10.txt or mkrd10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mkrd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mkrd10a.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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Rutherford +(##2 in our series by Mark Rutherford) + +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: Mark Rutherford's Deliverance + +Author: Mark Rutherford + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5338] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 2, 2002] +[Most recently updated: July 2, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1913 Hodder and Stoughton edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +MARK RUTHERFORD’S DELIVERANCE<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER I - NEWSPAPERS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +When I had established myself in my new lodgings in Camden Town, I found +I had ten pounds in my pocket, and again there was no outlook. +I examined carefully every possibility. At last I remembered that +a relative of mine, who held some office in the House of Commons, added +to his income by writing descriptive accounts of the debates, throwing +in by way of supplement any stray scraps of gossip which he was enabled +to collect. The rules of the House as to the admission of strangers +were not so strict then as they are now, and he assured me that if I +could but secure a commission from a newspaper, he could pass me into +one of the galleries, and, when there was nothing to be heard worth +describing, I could remain in the lobby, where I should by degrees find +many opportunities of picking up intelligence which would pay. +So far, so good; but how to obtain the commission? I managed to +get hold of a list of all the country papers, and I wrote to nearly +every one, offering my services. I am afraid that I somewhat exaggerated +them, for I had two answers, and, after a little correspondence, two +engagements. This was an unexpected stroke of luck; but alas! +both journals circulated in the same district. I never could get +together more stuff than would fill about a column and a half, and consequently +I was obliged, with infinite pains, to vary, so that it could not be +recognised, the form of what, at bottom, was essentially the same matter. +This was work which would have been disagreeable enough, if I had not +now ceased in a great measure to demand what was agreeable. In +years past I coveted a life, not of mere sensual enjoyment - for that +I never cared - but a life which should be filled with activities of +the noblest kind, and it was intolerable to me to reflect that all my +waking hours were in the main passed in merest drudgery, and that only +for a few moments at the beginning or end of the day could it be said +that the higher sympathies were really operative. Existence to +me was nothing but these few moments, and consequently flitted like +a shadow. I was now, however, the better of what was half disease +and half something healthy and good. In the first place, I had +discovered that my appetite was far larger than my powers. Consumed +by a longing for continuous intercourse with the best, I had no ability +whatever to maintain it, and I had accepted as a fact, however mysterious +it might be, that the human mind is created with the impulses of a seraph +and the strength of a man. Furthermore, what was I that I should +demand exceptional treatment? Thousands of men and women superior +to myself, are condemned, if that is the proper word to use, to almost +total absence from themselves. The roar of the world for them +is never lulled to rest, nor can silence ever be secured in which the +voice of the Divine can be heard.<br> +<br> +My letters were written twice a week, and as each contained a column +and a half, I had six columns weekly to manufacture. These I was +in the habit of writing in the morning, my evenings being spent at the +House. At first I was rather interested, but after a while the +occupation became tedious beyond measure, and for this reason. +In a discussion of any importance about fifty members perhaps would +take part, and had made up their minds beforehand to speak. There +could not possibly be more than three or four reasons for or against +the motion, and as the knowledge that what the intending orator had +to urge had been urged a dozen times before on that very night never +deterred him from urging it again, the same arguments, diluted, muddled, +and mispresented, recurred with the most wearisome iteration.<br> +<br> +The public outside knew nothing or very little of the real House of +Commons, and the manner in which time was squandered there, for the +reports were all of them much abbreviated. In fact, I doubt whether +anybody but the Speaker, and one or two other persons in the same position +as myself, really felt with proper intensity what the waste was, and +how profound was the vanity of members and the itch for expression; +for even the reporters were relieved at stated intervals, and the impression +on their minds was not continuous. Another evil result of these +attendances at the House was a kind of political scepticism. Over +and over again I have seen a Government arraigned for its conduct of +foreign affairs. The evidence lay in masses of correspondence +which it would have required some days to master, and the verdict, after +knowing the facts, ought to have depended upon the application of principles, +each of which admitted a contrary principle for which much might be +pleaded. There were not fifty members in the House with the leisure +or the ability to understand what it was which had actually happened, +and if they had understood it, they would not have had the wit to see +what was the rule which ought to have decided the case. Yet, whether +they understood or not, they were obliged to vote, and what was worse, +the constituencies also had to vote, and so the gravest matters were +settled in utter ignorance. This has often been adduced as an +argument against an extended suffrage, but, if it is an argument against +anything, it is an argument against intrusting the aristocracy and even +the House itself with the destinies of the nation; for no dock labourer +could possibly be more entirely empty of all reasons for action than +the noble lords, squires, lawyers, and railway directors whom I have +seen troop to the division bell. There is something deeper than +this scepticism, but the scepticism is the easiest and the most obvious +conclusion to an open mind dealing so closely and practically with politics +as it was my lot to do at this time of my life. Men must be governed, +and when it comes to the question, by whom? I, for one, would far sooner +in the long run trust the people at large than I would the few, who +in everything which relates to Government are as little instructed as +the many and more difficult to move. The very fickleness of the +multitude, the theme of such constant declamation, is so far good that +it proves a susceptibility to impressions to which men hedged round +by impregnable conventionalities cannot yield. <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a><br> +<br> +When I was living in the country, the pure sky and the landscape formed +a large portion of my existence, so large that much of myself depended +on it, and I wondered how men could be worth anything if they could +never see the face of nature. For this belief my early training +on the “Lyrical Ballads” is answerable. When I came +to London the same creed survived, and I was for ever thirsting for +intercourse with my ancient friend. Hope, faith, and God seemed +impossible amidst the smoke of the streets. It was now very difficult +for me, except at rare opportunities, to leave London, and it was necessary +for me, therefore, to understand that all that was essential for me +was obtainable there, even though I should never see anything more than +was to be seen in journeying through the High Street, Camden Town, Tottenham +Court Road, the Seven Dials, and Whitehall. I should have been +guilty of a simple surrender to despair if I had not forced myself to +make this discovery. I cannot help saying, with all my love for +the literature of my own day, that it has an evil side to it which none +know except the millions of sensitive persons who are condemned to exist +in great towns. It might be imagined from much of this literature +that true humanity and a belief in God are the offspring of the hills +or the ocean; and by implication, if not expressly, the vast multitudes +who hardly ever see the hills or the ocean must be without a religion. +The long poems which turn altogether upon scenery, perhaps in foreign +lands, and the passionate devotion to it which they breathe, may perhaps +do good in keeping alive in the hearts of men a determination to preserve +air, earth, and water from pollution; but speaking from experience as +a Londoner, I can testify that they are most depressing, and I would +counsel everybody whose position is what mine was to avoid these books +and to associate with those which will help him in his own circumstances.<br> +<br> +Half of my occupation soon came to an end. One of my editors sent +me a petulant note telling me that all I wrote he could easily find +out himself, and that he required something more “graphic and +personal.” I could do no better, or rather I ought to say, +no worse than I had been doing. These letters were a great trouble +to me. I was always conscious of writing so much of which I was +not certain, and so much which was indifferent to me. The unfairness +of parties haunted me. But I continued to write, because I saw +no other way of getting a living, and surely it is a baser dishonesty +to depend upon the charity of friends because some pleasant, clean, +ideal employment has not presented itself, than to soil one’s +hands with a little of the inevitable mud. I don’t think +I ever felt anything more keenly than I did a sneer from an acquaintance +of mine who was in the habit of borrowing money from me. He was +a painter, whose pictures were never sold because he never worked hard +enough to know how to draw, and it came to my ears indirectly that he +had said that “he would rather live the life of a medieval ascetic +than condescend to the degradation of scribbling a dozen columns weekly +of utter trash on subjects with which he had no concern.” +At that very moment he owed me five pounds. God knows that I admitted +my dozen columns to be utter trash, but it ought to have been forgiven +by those who saw that I was struggling to save myself from the streets +and to keep a roof over my head. Degraded, however, as I might +be, I could not get down to the “graphic and personal,” +for it meant nothing less than the absolutely false. I therefore +contrived to exist on the one letter, which, excepting the mechanical +labour of writing a second, took up as much of my time as if I had to +write two.<br> +<br> +Never, but once or twice at the most, did my labours meet with the slightest +recognition beyond payment. Once I remember that I accused a member +of a discreditable manoeuvre to consume the time of the House, and as +he represented a borough in my district, he wrote to the editor denying +the charge. The editor without any inquiry - and I believe I was +mistaken - instantly congratulated me on having “scored.” +At another time, when Parliament was not sitting, I ventured, by way +of filling up my allotted space, to say a word on behalf of a now utterly +forgotten novel. I had a letter from the authoress thanking me, +but alas! the illusion vanished. I was tempted by this one novel +to look into others which I found she had written, and I discovered +that they were altogether silly. The attraction of the one of +which I thought so highly, was due not to any real merit which it possessed, +but to something I had put into it. It was dead, but it had served +as a wall to re-echo my own voice. Excepting these two occasions, +I don’t think that one solitary human being ever applauded or +condemned one solitary word of which I was the author. All my +friends knew where my contributions were to be found, but I never heard +that they looked at them. They were never worth reading, and yet +such complete silence was rather lonely. The tradesman who makes +a good coat enjoys the satisfaction of having fitted and pleased his +customer, and a bricklayer, if he be diligent, is rewarded by knowing +that his master understands his value, but I never knew what it was +to receive a single response. I wrote for an abstraction; and +spoke to empty space. I cannot help claiming some pity and even +respect for the class to which I belonged. I have heard them called +all kinds of hard names, hacks, drudges, and something even more contemptible, +but the injustice done to them is monstrous. Their wage is hardly +earned; it is peculiarly precarious, depending altogether upon their +health, and no matter how ill they may be they must maintain the liveliness +of manner which is necessary to procure acceptance. I fell in +with one poor fellow whose line was something like my own. I became +acquainted with him through sitting side by side with him at the House. +He lived in lodgings in Goodge Street, and occasionally I walked with +him as far as the corner of Tottenham Court Road, where I caught the +last omnibus northward. He wrote like me a “descriptive +article” for the country, but he also wrote every now and then +- a dignity to which I never attained - a “special” for +London. His “descriptive articles” were more political +than mine, and he was obliged to be violently Tory. His creed, +however, was such a pure piece of professionalism, that though I was +Radical, and was expected to be so, we never jarred, and often, as we +wandered homewards, we exchanged notes, and were mutually useful, his +observations appearing in my paper, and mine in his, with proper modifications. +How he used to roar in the <i>Gazette </i>against the opposite party, +and yet I never heard anything from him myself but what was diffident +and tender. He had acquired, as an instrument necessary to him, +an extraordinarily extravagant style, and he laid about him with a bludgeon, +which inevitably descended on the heads of all prominent persons if +they happened not to be Conservative, no matter what their virtues might +be. One peculiarity, however, I noted in him. Although he +ought every now and then, when the subject was uppermost, to have flamed +out in the <i>Gazette </i>on behalf of the Church, I never saw a word +from him on that subject. He drew the line at religion. +He did not mind acting his part in things secular, for his performances +were, I am sure, mostly histrionic, but there he stopped. The +unreality of his character was a husk surrounding him, but it did not +touch the core. It was as if he had said to himself, “Political +controversy is nothing to me, and, what is more, is so uncertain that +it matters little whether I say yes or no, nor indeed does it matter +if I say yes <i>and </i>no, and I must keep my wife and children from +the workhouse; but when it comes to the relationship of man to God, +it is a different matter.” His altogether outside vehemence +and hypocrisy did in fact react upon him, and so far from affecting +harmfully what lay deeper, produced a more complete sincerity and transparency +extending even to the finest verbal distinctions. Over and over +again have I heard him preach to his wife, almost with pathos, the duty +of perfect exactitude in speech in describing the commonest occurrences. +“Now, my dear, <i>is </i>that so?” was a perpetual remonstrance +with him; and he always insisted upon it that there is no training more +necessary for children than that of teaching them not merely to speak +the truth in the ordinary, vulgar sense of the term, but to speak it +in a much higher sense, by rigidly compelling, point by point, a correspondence +of the words with the fact external or internal. He never would +tolerate in his own children a mere hackneyed, borrowed expression, +but demanded exact portraiture; and nothing vexed him more than to hear +one of them spoil and make worthless what he or she had seen, by reporting +it in some stale phrase which had been used by everybody. This +refusal to take the trouble to watch the presentment to the mind of +anything which had been placed before it, and to reproduce it in its +own lines and colours was, as he said, nothing but falsehood, and he +maintained that the principal reason why people are so uninteresting +is not that they have nothing to say. It is rather that they will +not face the labour of saying in their own tongue what they have to +say, but cover it up and conceal it in commonplace, so that we get, +not what they themselves behold and what they think, but a hieroglyphic +or symbol invented as the representative of a certain class of objects +or emotions, and as inefficient to represent a particular object or +emotion as <i>x</i> or <i>y</i> to set forth the relation of Hamlet +to Ophelia. He would even exercise his children in this art of +the higher truthfulness, and would purposely make them give him an account +of something which he had seen and they had seen, checking them the +moment he saw a lapse from originality. Such was the Tory correspondent +of the <i>Gazette.<br> +<br> +</i>I ought to say, by way of apology for him, that in his day it signified +little or nothing whether Tory or Whig was in power. Politics +had not become what they will one day become, a matter of life or death, +dividing men with really private love and hate. What a mockery +controversy was in the House! How often I have seen members, who +were furious at one another across the floor, quietly shaking hands +outside, and inviting one another to dinner! I have heard them +say that we ought to congratulate ourselves that parliamentary differences +do not in this country breed personal animosities. To me this +seemed anything but a subject of congratulation. Men who are totally +at variance ought not to be friends, and if Radical and Tory are not +totally, but merely superficially at variance, so much the worse for +their Radicalism and Toryism.<br> +<br> +It is possible, and even probable, that the public fury and the subsequent +amity were equally absurd. Most of us have no real loves and no +real hatreds. Blessed is love, less blessed is hatred, but thrice +accursed is that indifference which is neither one nor the other, the +muddy mess which men call friendship.<br> +<br> +M’Kay - for that was his name - lived, as I have said, in Goodge +Street, where he had unfurnished apartments. I often spent part +of the Sunday with him, and I may forestall obvious criticism by saying +that I do not pretend for a moment to defend myself from inconsistency +in denouncing members of Parliament for their duplicity, M’Kay +and myself being also guilty of something very much like it. But +there was this difference between us and our parliamentary friends, +that we always divested ourselves of all hypocrisy when we were alone. +We then dropped the stage costume which members continued to wear in +the streets and at the dinner-table, and in which some of them even +slept and said their prayers.<br> +<br> +London Sundays to persons who are not attached to any religious community, +and have no money to spend, are rather dreary. We tried several +ways of getting through the morning. If we heard that there was +a preacher with a reputation, we went to hear him. As a rule, +however, we got no good in that way. Once we came to a chapel +where there was a minister supposed to be one of the greatest orators +of the day. We had much difficulty in finding standing room. +Just as we entered we heard him say, “My friends, I appeal to +those of you who are parents. You know that if you say to a child +‘go,’ he goeth, and if you say ‘come,’ he cometh. +So the Lord” - But at this point M’Kay, who had children, +nudged me to come out; and out we went. Why does this little scene +remain with me? I can hardly say, but here it stands. It +is remembered, not so much by reason of the preacher as by reason of +the apparent acquiescence and admiration of the audience, who seemed +to be perfectly willing to take over an experience from their pastor +- if indeed it was really an experience - which was not their own. +Our usual haunts on Sunday were naturally the parks and Kensington Gardens; +but artificial limited enclosures are apt to become wearisome after +a time, and we longed for a little more freedom if a little less trim. +So we would stroll towards Hampstead or Highgate, the only drawback +to these regions being the squalid, ragged, half town, half suburb, +through which it was necessary to pass. The skirts of London when +the air is filled with north-easterly soot, grit, and filth, are cheerless, +and the least cheerful part of the scene is the inability of the vast +wandering masses of people to find any way of amusing themselves. +At the corner of one of the fields in Kentish Town, just about to be +devoured, stood a public-house, and opposite the door was generally +encamped a man who sold nothing but Brazil nuts. Swarms of people +lazily wandered past him, most of them waiting for the public-house +to open. Brazil nuts on a cold black Sunday morning are not exhilarating, +but the costermonger found many customers who bought his nuts, and ate +them, merely because they had nothing better to do. We went two +or three times to a freethinking hall, where we were entertained with +demonstrations of the immorality of the patriarchs and Jewish heroes, +and arguments to prove that the personal existence of the devil was +a myth, the audience breaking out into uproarious laughter at comical +delineations of Noah and Jonah. One morning we found the place +completely packed. A “celebrated Christian,” as he +was described to us, having heard of the hall, had volunteered to engage +in debate on the claims of the Old Testament to Divine authority. +He turned out to be a preacher whom we knew quite well. He was +introduced by his freethinking antagonist, who claimed for him a respectful +hearing. The preacher said that before beginning he should like +to “engage in prayer.” Accordingly he came to the +front of the platform, lifted up his eyes, told God why he was there, +and besought Him to bless the discussion in the conversion “of +these poor wandering souls, who have said in their hearts that there +is no God, to a saving faith in Him and in the blood of Christ.” +I expected that some resentment would be displayed when the wandering +souls found themselves treated like errant sheep, but to my surprise +they listened with perfect silence; and when he had said “Amen,” +there were great clappings of hands, and cries of “Bravo.” +They evidently considered the prayer merely as an elocutionary show-piece. +The preacher was much disconcerted, but he recovered himself, and began +his sermon, for it was nothing more. He enlarged on the fact that +men of the highest eminence had believed in the Old Testament. +Locke and Newton had believed in it, and did it not prove arrogance +in us to doubt when the “gigantic intellect which had swept the +skies, and had announced the law which bound the universe together was +satisfied?” The witness of the Old Testament to the New +was another argument, but his main reliance was upon the prophecies. +From Adam to Isaiah there was a continuous prefigurement of Christ. +Christ was the point to which everything tended; and “now, my +friends,” he said, “I cannot sit down without imploring +you to turn your eyes on Him who never yet repelled the sinner, to wash +in that eternal Fountain ever open for the remission of sins, and to +flee from the wrath to come. I believe the sacred symbol of the +cross has not yet lost its efficacy. For eighteen hundred years, +whenever it has been exhibited to the sons of men, it has been potent +to reclaim and save them. ‘I, if I be lifted up,’ +cried the Great Sufferer, ‘will draw all men unto Me,’ and +He has drawn not merely the poor and ignorant but the philosopher and +the sage. Oh, my brethren, think what will happen if you reject +Him. I forbear to paint your doom. And think again, on the +other hand, of the bliss which awaits you if you receive Him, of the +eternal companionship with the Most High and with the spirits of just +men made perfect.” His hearers again applauded vigorously, +and none less so than their appointed leader, who was to follow on the +other side. He was a little man with small eyes; his shaven face +was dark with a black beard lurking under the skin, and his nose was +slightly turned up. He was evidently a trained debater who had +practised under railway arches, discussion “forums,” and +in the classes promoted by his sect. He began by saying that he +could not compliment his friend who had just sat down on the inducements +which he had offered them to become Christians. The New Cut was +not a nice place on a wet day, but he had rather sit at a stall there +all day long with his feet on a basket than lie in the bosom of some +of the just men made perfect portrayed in the Bible. Nor, being +married, should he feel particularly at ease if he had to leave his +wife with David. David certainly ought to have got beyond all +that kind of thing, considering it must be over 3000 years since he +first saw Bathsheba; but we are told that the saints are for ever young +in heaven, and this treacherous villain, who would have been tried by +a jury of twelve men and hung outside Newgate if he had lived in the +nineteenth century, might be dangerous now. He was an amorous +old gentleman up to the very last. (Roars of laughter.) +Nor did the speaker feel particularly anxious to be shut up with all +the bishops, who of course are amongst the elect, and on their departure +from this vale of tears tempered by ten thousand a year, are duly supplied +with wings. Much more followed in the same strain upon the immorality +of the Bible heroes, their cruelty, and the cruelty of the God who sanctioned +it. Then followed a clever exposition of the inconsistencies of +the Old Testament history, the impossibility of any reference to Jesus +therein, and a really earnest protest against the quibbling by which +those who believed in the Bible as a revelation sought to reconcile +it with science. “Finally,” said the speaker, “I +am sure we all of us will pass a vote of thanks to our reverend friend +for coming to see us, and we cordially invite him to come again. +If I might be allowed to offer a suggestion, it would be that he should +make himself acquainted with our case before he pays us another visit, +and not suppose that we are to be persuaded with the rhetoric which +may do very well for the young women of his congregation, but won’t +go down here.” This was fair and just, for the eminent Christian +was nothing but an ordinary minister, who, when he was prepared for +his profession, had never been allowed to see what are the historical +difficulties of Christianity, lest he should be overcome by them. +On the other hand, his sceptical opponents were almost devoid of the +faculty for appreciating the great remains of antiquity, and would probably +have considered the machinery of the Prometheus Bound or of the Iliad +a sufficient reason for a sneer. That they should spend their +time in picking the Bible to pieces when there was so much positive +work for them to do, seemed to me as melancholy as if they had spent +themselves upon theology. To waste a Sunday morning in ridiculing +such stories as that of Jonah was surely as imbecile as to waste it +in proving their verbal veracity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER II - M’KAY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +It was foggy and overcast as we walked home to Goodge Street. +The churches and chapels were emptying themselves, but the great mass +of the population had been “nowhere.” I had dinner +with M’Kay, and as the day wore on the fog thickened. London +on a dark Sunday afternoon, more especially about Goodge Street, is +depressing. The inhabitants drag themselves hither and thither +in languor and uncertainty. Small mobs loiter at the doors of +the gin palaces. Costermongers wander aimlessly, calling “walnuts” +with a cry so melancholy that it sounds as the wail of the hopelessly +lost may be imagined to sound when their anguish has been deadened by +the monotony of a million years.<br> +<br> +About two or three o’clock decent working men in their best clothes +emerge from the houses in such streets as Nassau Street. It is +part of their duty to go out after dinner on Sunday with the wife and +children. The husband pushes the perambulator out of the dingy +passage, and gazes doubtfully this way and that way, not knowing whither +to go, and evidently longing for the Monday, when his work, however +disagreeable it may be, will be his plain duty. The wife follows +carrying a child, and a boy and girl in unaccustomed apparel walk by +her side. They come out into Mortimer Street. There are +no shops open; the sky over their heads is mud, the earth is mud under +their feet, the muddy houses stretch in long rows, black, gaunt, uniform. +The little party reach Hyde Park, also wrapped in impenetrable mud-grey. +The man’s face brightens for a moment as he says, “It is +time to go back,” and so they return, without the interchange +of a word, unless perhaps they happen to see an omnibus horse fall down +on the greasy stones. What is there worth thought or speech on +such an expedition? Nothing! The tradesman who kept the +oil and colour establishment opposite to us was not to be tempted outside. +It was a little more comfortable than Nassau Street, and, moreover, +he was religious and did not encourage Sabbath-breaking. He and +his family always moved after their mid-day Sabbath repast from the +little back room behind the shop up to what they called the drawing-room +overhead. It was impossible to avoid seeing them every time we +went to the window. The father of the family, after his heavy +meal, invariably sat in the easy-chair with a handkerchief over his +eyes and slept. The children were always at the windows, pretending +to read books, but in reality watching the people below. At about +four o’clock their papa generally awoke, and demanded a succession +of hymn tunes played on the piano. When the weather permitted, +the lower sash was opened a little, and the neighbours were indulged +with the performance of “Vital Spark,” the father “coming +in” now and then with a bass note or two at the end where he was +tolerably certain of the harmony. At five o’clock a prophecy +of the incoming tea brought us some relief from the contemplation of +the landscape or brick-scape. I say “some relief,” +for meals at M’Kay’s were a little disagreeable. His +wife was an honest, good little woman, but so much attached to him and +so dependent on him that she was his mere echo. She had no opinions +which were not his, and whenever he said anything which went beyond +the ordinary affairs of the house, she listened with curious effort, +and generally responded by a weakened repetition of M’Kay’s +own observations. He perpetually, therefore, had before him an +enfeebled reflection of himself, and this much irritated him, notwithstanding +his love for her; for who could help loving a woman who, without the +least hesitation, would have opened her veins at his command, and have +given up every drop of blood in her body for him? Over and over +again I have heard him offer some criticism on a person or event, and +the customary chime of approval would ensue, provoking him to such a +degree that he would instantly contradict himself with much bitterness, +leaving poor Mrs. M’Kay in much perplexity. Such a shot +as this generally reduced her to timid silence. As a rule, he +always discouraged any topic at his house which was likely to serve +as an occasion for showing his wife’s dependence on him. +He designedly talked about her household affairs, asked her whether +she had mended his clothes and ordered the coals. She knew that +these things were not what was upon his mind, and she answered him in +despairing tones, which showed how much she felt the obtrusive condescension +to her level. I greatly pitied her, and sometimes, in fact, my +emotion at the sight of her struggles with her limitations almost overcame +me and I was obliged to get up and go. She was childishly affectionate. +If M’Kay came in and happened to go up to her and kiss her, her +face brightened into the sweetest and happiest smile. I recollect +once after he had been unusually annoyed with her he repented just as +he was leaving home, and put his lips to her head, holding it in both +his hands. I saw her gently take the hand from her forehead and +press it to her mouth, the tears falling down her cheek meanwhile. +Nothing would ever tempt her to admit anything against her husband. +M’Kay was violent and unjust at times. His occupation he +hated, and his restless repugnance to it frequently discharged itself +indifferently upon everything which came in his way. His children +often thought him almost barbarous, but in truth he did not actually +see them when he was in one of these moods. What was really present +with him, excluding everything else, was the sting of something more +than usually repulsive of which they knew nothing. Mrs. M’Kay’s +answer to her children’s remonstrances when they were alone with +her always was, “He is so worried,” and she invariably dwelt +upon their faults which had given him the opportunity for his wrath.<br> +<br> +I think M’Kay’s treatment of her wholly wrong. I think +that he ought not to have imposed himself upon her so imperiously. +I think he ought to have striven to ascertain what lay concealed in +that modest heart, to have encouraged its expression and development, +to have debased himself before her that she might receive courage to +rise, and he would have found that she had something which he had not; +not <i>his</i> something perhaps, but something which would have made +his life happier. As it was, he stood upon his own ground above +her. If she could reach him, well and good, if not, the helping +hand was not proffered, and she fell back, hopeless. Later on +he discovered his mistake. She became ill very gradually, and +M’Kay began to see in the distance a prospect of losing her. +A frightful pit came in view. He became aware that he could not +do without her. He imagined what his home would have been with +other women whom he knew, and he confessed that with them he would have +been less contented. He acknowledged that he had been guilty of +a kind of criminal epicurism; that he rejected in foolish, fatal, nay, +even wicked indifference, the bread of life upon which he might have +lived and thriven. His whole effort now was to suppress himself +in his wife. He read to her, a thing he never did before, and +when she misunderstood, he patiently explained; he took her into his +counsels and asked her opinion; he abandoned his own opinion for hers, +and in the presence of her children he always deferred to her, and delighted +to acknowledge that she knew more than he did, that she was right and +he was wrong. She was now confined to her house, and the end was +near, but this was the most blessed time of her married life. +She grew under the soft rain of his loving care, and opened out, not, +indeed, into an oriental flower, rich in profound mystery of scent and +colour, but into a blossom of the chalk-down. Altogether concealed +and closed she would have remained if it had not been for this beneficent +and heavenly gift poured upon her. He had just time enough to +see what she really was, and then she died. There are some natures +that cannot unfold under pressure or in the presence of unregarding +power. Hers was one. They require a clear space round them, +the removal of everything which may overmaster them, and constant delicate +attention. They require too a recognition of the fact, which M’Kay +for a long time did not recognise, that it is folly to force them and +to demand of them that they shall be what they cannot be. I stood +by the grave this morning of my poor, pale, clinging little friend now +for some years at peace, and I thought that the tragedy of Promethean +torture or Christ-like crucifixion may indeed be tremendous, but there +is a tragedy too in the existence of a soul like hers, conscious of +its feebleness and ever striving to overpass it, ever aware that it +is an obstacle to the return of the affection of the man whom she loves.<br> +<br> +Meals, as I have said, were disagreeable at M’Kay’s, and +when we wanted to talk we went out of doors. The evening after +our visit to the debating hall we moved towards Portland Place, and +walked up and down there for an hour or more. M’Kay had +a passionate desire to reform the world. The spectacle of the +misery of London, and of the distracted swaying hither and thither of +the multitudes who inhabit it, tormented him incessantly. He always +chafed at it, and he never seemed sure that he had a right to the enjoyment +of the simplest pleasures so long as London was before him. What +a farce, he would cry, is all this poetry, philosophy, art, and culture, +when millions of wretched mortals are doomed to the eternal darkness +and crime of the city! Here are the educated classes occupying +themselves with exquisite emotions, with speculations upon the Infinite, +with addresses to flowers, with the worship of waterfalls and flying +clouds, and with the incessant portraiture of a thousand moods and variations +of love, while their neighbours lie grovelling in the mire, and never +know anything more of life or its duties than is afforded them by a +police report in a bit of newspaper picked out of the kennel. +We went one evening to hear a great violin-player, who played such music, +and so exquisitely, that the limits of life were removed. But +we had to walk up the Haymarket home, between eleven and twelve o’clock, +and the violin-playing became the merest trifling. M’Kay +had been brought up upon the Bible. He had before him, not only +there, but in the history of all great religious movements, a record +of the improvement of the human race, or of large portions of it, not +merely by gradual civilisation, but by inspiration spreading itself +suddenly. He could not get it out of his head that something of +this kind is possible again in our time. He longed to try for +himself in his own poor way in one of the slums about Drury Lane. +I sympathised with him, but I asked him what he had to say. I +remember telling him that I had been into St. Paul’s Cathedral, +and that I pictured to myself the cathedral full, and myself in the +pulpit. I was excited while imagining the opportunity offered +me of delivering some message to three or four thousand persons in such +a building, but in a minute or two I discovered that my sermon would +be very nearly as follows: “Dear friends, I know no more than +you know; we had better go home.” I admitted to him that +if he could believe in hell-fire, or if he could proclaim the Second +Advent, as Paul did to the Thessalonians, and get people to believe, +he might change their manners, but otherwise he could do nothing but +resort to a much slower process. With the departure of a belief +in the supernatural departs once and for ever the chance of regenerating +the race except by the school and by science. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a> +However, M’Kay thought he would try. His earnestness was +rather a hindrance than a help to him, for it prevented his putting +certain important questions to himself, or at any rate it prevented +his waiting for distinct answers. He recurred to the apostles +and Bunyan, and was convinced that it was possible even now to touch +depraved men and women with an idea which should recast their lives. +So it is that the main obstacle to our success is a success which has +preceded us. We instinctively follow the antecedent form, and +consequently we either pass by, or deny altogether, the life of our +own time, because its expression has changed. We never do practically +believe that the Messiah is not incarnated twice in the same flesh. +He came as Jesus, and we look for Him as Jesus now, overlooking the +manifestation of to-day, and dying, perhaps, without recognising it.<br> +<br> +M’Kay had found a room near Parker Street, Drury Lane, in which +he proposed to begin, and that night, as we trod the pavement of Portland +Place, he propounded his plans to me, I listening without much confidence, +but loth nevertheless to take the office of Time upon myself, and to +disprove what experience would disprove more effectually. His +object was nothing less than gradually to attract Drury Lane to come +and be saved.<br> +<br> +The first Sunday I went with him to the room. As we walked over +the Drury Lane gratings of the cellars a most foul stench came up, and +one in particular I remember to this day. A man half dressed pushed +open a broken window beneath us, just as we passed by, and there issued +such a blast of corruption, made up of gases bred by filth, air breathed +and rebreathed a hundred times, charged with odours of unnameable personal +uncleanness and disease, that I staggered to the gutter with a qualm +which I could scarcely conquer. At the doors of the houses stood +grimy women with their arms folded and their hair disordered. +Grimier boys and girls had tied a rope to broken railings, and were +swinging on it. The common door to a score of lodgings stood ever +open, and the children swarmed up and down the stairs carrying with +them patches of mud every time they came in from the street. The +wholesome practice which amongst the decent poor marks off at least +one day in the week as a day on which there is to be a change; when +there is to be some attempt to procure order and cleanliness; a day +to be preceded by soap and water, by shaving, and by as many clean clothes +as can be procured, was unknown here. There was no break in the +uniformity of squalor; nor was it even possible for any single family +to emerge amidst such altogether suppressive surroundings. All +self-respect, all effort to do anything more than to satisfy somehow +the grossest wants, had departed. The shops were open; most of +them exhibiting a most miscellaneous collection of goods, such as bacon +cut in slices, fire-wood, a few loaves of bread, and sweetmeats in dirty +bottles. Fowls, strange to say, black as the flagstones, walked +in and out of these shops, or descended into the dark areas. The +undertaker had not put up his shutters. He had drawn down a yellow +blind, on which was painted a picture of a suburban cemetery. +Two funerals, the loftiest effort of his craft, were depicted approaching +the gates. When the gas was alight behind the blind, an effect +was produced which was doubtless much admired. He also displayed +in his window a model coffin, a work of art. It was about a foot +long, varnished, studded with little brass nails, and on the lid was +fastened a rustic cross stretching from end to end. The desire +to decorate existence in some way or other with more or less care is +nearly universal. The most sensual and the meanest almost always +manifest an indisposition to be content with mere material satisfaction. +I have known selfish, gluttonous, drunken men spend their leisure moments +in trimming a bed of scarlet geraniums, and the vulgarest and most commonplace +of mortals considers it a necessity to put a picture in the room or +an ornament on the mantelpiece. The instinct, even in its lowest +forms, is divine. It is the commentary on the text that man shall +not live by bread alone. It is evidence of an acknowledged compulsion +- of which art is the highest manifestation - to <i>escape</i>. +In the alleys behind Drury Lane this instinct, the very salt of life, +was dead, crushed out utterly, a symptom which seemed to me ominous, +and even awful to the last degree. The only house in which it +survived was in that of the undertaker, who displayed the willows, the +black horses, and the coffin. These may have been nothing more +than an advertisement, but from the care with which the cross was elaborated, +and the neatness with which it was made to resemble a natural piece +of wood, I am inclined to believe that the man felt some pleasure in +his work for its own sake, and that he was not utterly submerged. +The cross in such dens as these, or, worse than dens, in such sewers! +If it be anything, it is a symbol of victory, of power to triumph over +resistance, and even death. Here was nothing but sullen subjugation, +the most grovelling slavery, mitigated only by a tendency to mutiny. +Here was a strength of circumstance to quell and dominate which neither +Jesus nor Paul could have overcome - worse a thousandfold than Scribes +or Pharisees, or any form of persecution. The preaching of Jesus +would have been powerless here; in fact, no known stimulus, nothing +ever held up before men to stir the soul to activity, can do anything +in the back streets of great cities so long as they are the cesspools +which they are now.<br> +<br> +We came to the room. About a score of M’Kay’s own +friends were there, and perhaps half-a-dozen outsiders, attracted by +the notice which had been pasted on a board at the entrance. M’Kay +announced his errand. The ignorance and misery of London he said +were intolerable to him. He could not take any pleasure in life +when he thought upon them. What could he do? that was the question. +He was not a man of wealth. He could not buy up these hovels. +He could not force an entrance into them and persuade their inhabitants +to improve themselves. He had no talents wherewith to found a +great organisation or create public opinion. He had determined, +after much thought, to do what he was now doing. It was very little, +but it was all he could undertake. He proposed to keep this room +open as a place to which those who wished might resort at different +times, and find some quietude, instruction, and what fortifying thoughts +he could collect to enable men to endure their almost unendurable sufferings. +He did not intend to teach theology. Anything which would be serviceable +he would set forth, but in the main he intended to rely on holding up +the examples of those who were greater than ourselves and were our redeemers. +He meant to teach Christ in the proper sense of the word. Christ +now is admired probably more than He had ever been. Everybody +agrees to admire Him, but where are the people who really do what He +did? There is no religion now-a-days. Religion is a mere +literature. Cultivated persons sit in their studies and write +overflowingly about Jesus, or meet at parties and talk about Him; but +He is not of much use to me unless I say to myself, <i>how is it with +thee</i>? unless I myself become what He was. This was the meaning +of Jesus to the Apostle Paul. Jesus was in him; he had put on +Jesus; that is to say, Jesus lived in him like a second soul, taking +the place of his own soul and directing him accordingly. That +was religion, and it is absurd to say that the English nation at this +moment, or any section of it, is religious. Its educated classes +are inhabited by a hundred minds. We are in a state of anarchy, +each of us with a different aim and shaping himself according to a different +type; while the uneducated classes are entirely given over to the “natural +man.” He was firmly persuaded that we need religion, poor +and rich alike. We need some controlling influence to bind together +our scattered energies. We do not know what we are doing. +We read one book one day and another book another day, but it is idle +wandering to right and left; it is not advancing on a straight road. +It is not possible to bind ourselves down to a certain defined course, +but still it is an enormous, an incalculable advantage for us to have +some irreversible standard set up in us by which everything we meet +is to be judged. That is the meaning of the prophecy - whether +it will ever be fulfilled God only knows - that Christ shall judge the +world. All religions have been this. They have said that +in the midst of the infinitely possible - infinitely possible evil and +infinitely possible good too - we become distracted. A thousand +forces good and bad act upon us. It is necessary, if we are to +be men, if we are to be saved, that we should be rescued from this tumult, +and that our feet should be planted upon a path. His object, therefore, +would be to preach Christ, as before said, and to introduce into human +life His unifying influence. He would try and get them to see +things with the eyes of Christ, to love with His love, to judge with +His judgment. He believed Christ was fitted to occupy this place. +He deliberately chose Christ as worthy to be our central, shaping force. +He would try by degrees to prove this; to prove that Christ’s +way of dealing with life is the best way, and so to create a genuinely +Christian spirit, which, when any choice of conduct is presented to +us, will prompt us to ask first of all, <i>how would Christ have it</i>? +or, when men and things pass before us, will decide through him what +we have to say about them. M’Kay added that he hoped his +efforts would not be confined to talking. He trusted to be able, +by means of this little meeting, gradually to gain admittance for himself +and his friends into the houses of the poor and do some practical good. +At present he had no organisation and no plans. He did not believe +in organisation and plans preceding a clear conception of what was to +be accomplished. Such, as nearly as I can now recollect, is an +outline of his discourse. It was thoroughly characteristic of +him. He always talked in this fashion. He was for ever insisting +on the aimlessness of modern life, on the powerlessness of its vague +activities to mould men into anything good, to restrain them from evil +or moderate their passions, and he was possessed by a vision of a new +Christianity which was to take the place of the old and dead theologies. +I have reported him in my own language. He strove as much as he +could to make his meaning plain to everybody. Just before he finished, +three or four out of the half-a-dozen outsiders who were present whistled +with all their might and ran down the stairs shouting to one another. +As we went out they had collected about the door, and amused themselves +by pushing one another against us, and kicking an old kettle behind +us and amongst us all the way up the street, so that we were covered +with splashes. Mrs. M’Kay went with us, and when we reached +home, she tried to say something about what she had heard. The +cloud came over her husband’s face at once; he remained silent +for a minute, and getting up and going to the window, observed that +it ought to be cleaned, and that he could hardly see the opposite house. +The poor woman looked distressed, and I was just about to come to her +rescue by continuing what she had been saying, when she rose, not in +anger, but in trouble, and went upstairs.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER III - MISS LEROY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +During the great French war there were many French prisoners in my native +town. They led a strange isolated life, for they knew nothing +of our language, nor, in those days, did three people in the town understand +theirs. The common soldiers amused themselves by making little +trifles and selling them. I have now before me a box of coloured +straw with the date 1799 on the bottom, which was bought by my grandfather. +One of these prisoners was an officer named Leroy. Why he did +not go back to France I never heard, but I know that before I was born +he was living near our house on a small income; that he tried to teach +French, and that he had as his companion a handsome daughter who grew +up speaking English. What she was like when she was young I cannot +say, but I have had her described to me over and over again. She +had rather darkish brown hair, and she was tall and straight as an arrow. +This she was, by the way, even into old age. She surprised, shocked, +and attracted all the sober persons in our circle. Her ways were +not their ways. She would walk out by herself on a starry night +without a single companion, and cause thereby infinite talk, which would +have converged to a single focus if it had not happened that she was +also in the habit of walking out at four o’clock on a summer’s +morning, and that in the church porch of a little village not far from +us, which was her favourite resting-place, a copy of the <i>De Imitatione +Christi </i>was found which belonged to her. So the talk was scattered +again and its convergence prevented. She used to say doubtful +things about love. One of them struck my mother with horror. +Miss Leroy told a male person once, and told him to his face, that if +she loved him and he loved her, and they agreed to sign one another’s +foreheads with a cross as a ceremony, it would be as good to her as +marriage. This may seem a trifle, but nobody now can imagine what +was thought of it at the time it was spoken. My mother repeated +it every now and then for fifty years. It may be conjectured how +easily any other girls of our acquaintance would have been classified, +and justly classified, if they had uttered such barefaced Continental +immorality. Miss Leroy’s neighbours were remarkably apt +at classifying their fellow-creatures. They had a few, a very +few holes, into which they dropped their neighbours, and they must go +into one or the other. Nothing was more distressing than a specimen +which, notwithstanding all the violence which might be used to it, would +not fit into a hole, but remained an exception. Some lout, I believe, +reckoning on the legitimacy of his generalisation, and having heard +of this and other observations accredited to Miss Leroy, ventured to +be slightly rude to her. What she said to him was never known, +but he was always shy afterwards of mentioning her name, and when he +did he was wont to declare that she was “a rum un.” +She was not particular, I have heard, about personal tidiness, and this +I can well believe, for she was certainly not distinguished when I knew +her for this virtue. She cared nothing for the linen-closet, the +spotless bed-hangings, and the bright poker, which were the true household +gods of the respectable women of those days. She would have been +instantly set down as “slut,” and as having “nasty +dirty forrin ways,” if a peculiar habit of hers had not unfortunately +presented itself, most irritating to her critics, so anxious promptly +to gratify their philosophic tendency towards scientific grouping. +Mrs. Mobbs, who lived next door to her, averred that she always slept +with the window open. Mrs. Mobbs, like everybody else, never opened +her window except to “air the room.” Mrs. Mobbs’ +best bedroom was carpeted all over, and contained a great four-post +bedstead, hung round with heavy hangings, and protected at the top from +draughts by a kind of firmament of white dimity. Mrs. Mobbs stuffed +a sack of straw up the chimney of the fireplace, to prevent the fall +of the “sutt,” as she called it. Mrs. Mobbs, if she +had a visitor, gave her a hot supper, and expected her immediately afterwards +to go upstairs, draw the window curtains, get into this bed, draw the +bed curtains also, and wake up the next morning “bilious.” +This was the proper thing to do. Miss Leroy’s sitting-room +was decidedly disorderly; the chairs were dusty; “yer might write +yer name on the table,” Mrs. Mobbs declared; but, nevertheless, +the casement was never closed night nor day; and, moreover, Miss Leroy +was believed by the strongest circumstantial evidence to wash herself +all over every morning, a habit which Mrs. Mobbs thought “weakening,” +and somehow connected with ethical impropriety. When Miss Leroy +was married, and first as an elderly woman became known to me, she was +very inconsequential in her opinions, or at least appeared so to our +eyes. She must have been much more so when she was younger. +In our town we were all formed upon recognised patterns, and those who +possessed any one mark of the pattern, had all. The wine-merchant, +for example, who went to church, eminently respectable, Tory, by no +means associating with the tradesfolk who displayed their goods in the +windows, knowing no “experience,” and who had never felt +the outpouring of the Spirit, was a specimen of a class like him. +Another class was represented by the dissenting ironmonger, deacon, +presiding at prayer-meetings, strict Sabbatarian, and believer in eternal +punishments; while a third was set forth by “Guffy,” whose +real name was unknown, who got drunk, unloaded barges, assisted at the +municipal elections, and was never once seen inside a place of worship. +These patterns had existed amongst us from the dimmest antiquity, and +were accepted as part of the eternal order of things; so much so, that +the deacon, although he professed to be sure that nobody who had not +been converted would escape the fire - and the wine-merchant certainly +had not been converted - was very far from admitting to himself that +the wine-merchant ought to be converted, or that it would be proper +to try and convert him. I doubt, indeed, whether our congregation +would have been happy, or would have thought any the better of him, +if he had left the church. Such an event, however, could no more +come within the reach of our vision than a reversal of the current of +our river. It would have broken up our foundations and party-walls, +and would have been considered as ominous, and anything but a subject +for thankfulness. But Miss Leroy was not the wine-merchant, nor +the ironmonger, nor Guffy, and even now I cannot trace the hidden centre +of union from which sprang so much that was apparently irreconcilable. +She was a person whom nobody could have created in writing a novel, +because she was so inconsistent. As I have said before, she studied +Thomas à Kempis, and her little French Bible was brown with constant +use. But then she read much fiction in which there were scenes +which would have made our hair stand on end. The only thing she +constantly abhorred in books was what was dull and opaque. Yet, +as we shall see presently, her dislike to dulness, once at least in +her life, notably failed her. She was not Catholic, and professed +herself Protestant, but such a Protestantism! She had no sceptical +doubts. She believed implicitly that the Bible was the Word of +God, and that everything in it was true, but her interpretation of it +was of the strangest kind. Almost all our great doctrines seemed +shrunk to nothing in her eyes, while others, which were nothing to us, +were all-important to her. The atonement, for instance, I never +heard her mention, but Unitarianism was hateful to her, and Jesus was +her God in every sense of the word. On the other hand, she was +partly Pagan, for she knew very little of that consideration for the +feeble, and even for the foolish, which is the glory of Christianity. +She was rude to foolish people, and she instinctively kept out of the +way of all disease and weakness, so that in this respect she was far +below the commonplace tradesman’s wife, who visited the sick, +sat up with them, and, in fact, never seemed so completely in her element +as when she could be with anybody who was ill in bed.<br> +<br> +Miss Leroy’s father was republican, and so was my grandfather. +My grandfather and old Leroy were the only people in our town who refused +to illuminate when a victory was gained over the French. Leroy’s +windows were spared on the ground that he was not a Briton, but the +mob endeavoured to show my grandfather the folly of his belief in democracy +by smashing every pane of glass in front of his house with stones. +This drew him and Leroy together, and the result was, that although +Leroy himself never set foot inside any chapel or church, Miss Leroy +was often induced to attend our meeting-house in company with a maiden +aunt of mine, who rather “took to her.” Now comes +the for ever mysterious passage in history. There was amongst +the attendants at that meeting-house a young man who was apprentice +to a miller. He was a big, soft, quiet, plump-faced, awkward youth, +very good, but nothing more. He wore on Sunday a complete suit +of light pepper-and-salt clothes, and continued to wear pepper-and-salt +on Sunday all his life. He taught in the Sunday-school, and afterwards, +as he got older, he was encouraged to open his lips at a prayer-meeting, +and to “take the service” in the village chapels on Sunday +evening. He was the most singularly placid, even-tempered person +I ever knew. I first became acquainted with him when I was a child +and he was past middle life. What he was then, I am told, he always +was; and I certainly never heard one single violent word escape his +lips. His habits, even when young, had a tendency to harden. +He went to sleep after his mid-day dinner with the greatest regularity, +and he never could keep awake if he sat by a fire after dark. +I have seen him, when kneeling at family worship and praying with his +family, lose himself for an instant and nod his head, to the confusion +of all who were around him. He is dead now, but he lived to a +good old age, which crept upon him gradually with no pain, and he passed +away from this world to the next in a peaceful doze. He never +read anything, for the simple reason that whenever he was not at work +or at chapel he slumbered. To the utter amazement of everybody, +it was announced one fine day that Miss Leroy and he - George Butts +- were to be married. They were about the last people in the world, +who, it was thought, could be brought together. My mother was +stunned, and never completely recovered. I have seen her, forty +years after George Butts’ wedding-day, lift up her hands, and +have heard her call out with emotion, as fresh as if the event were +of yesterday, “What made that girl have George I can <i>not </i>think +- but there!” What she meant by the last two words we could +not comprehend. Many of her acquaintances interpreted them to +mean that she knew more than she dared communicate, but I think they +were mistaken. I am quite certain if she had known anything she +must have told it, and, in the next place, the phrase “but there” +was not uncommon amongst women in our town, and was supposed to mark +the consciousness of a prudently restrained ability to give an explanation +of mysterious phenomena in human relationships. For my own part, +I am just as much in the dark as my mother. My father, who was +a shrewd man, was always puzzled, and could not read the riddle. +He used to say that he never thought George could have “made up” +to any young woman, and it was quite clear that Miss Leroy did not either +then or afterwards display any violent affection for him. I have +heard her criticise and patronise him as a “good soul,” +but incapable, as indeed he was, of all sympathy with her. After +marriage she went her way and he his. She got up early, as she +was wont to do, and took her Bible into the fields while he was snoring. +She would then very likely suffer from a terrible headache during the +rest of the day, and lie down for hours, letting the house manage itself +as best it could. What made her selection of George more obscure +was that she was much admired by many young fellows, some of whom were +certainly more akin to her than he was; and I have heard from one or +two reports of encouraging words, and even something more than words, +which she had vouchsafed to them. A solution is impossible. +The affinities, repulsions, reasons in a nature like that of Miss Leroy’s +are so secret and so subtle, working towards such incalculable and not-to-be-predicted +results, that to attempt to make a major and minor premiss and an inevitable +conclusion out of them would be useless. One thing was clear, +that by marrying George she gained great freedom. If she had married +anybody closer to her, she might have jarred with him; there might have +been collision and wreck as complete as if they had been entirely opposed; +for she was not the kind of person to accommodate herself to others +even in the matter of small differences. But George’s road +through space lay entirely apart from hers, and there was not the slightest +chance of interference. She was under the protection of a husband; +she could do things that, as an unmarried woman, especially in a foreign +land, she could not do, and the compensatory sacrifice to her was small. +This is really the only attempt at elucidation I can give. She +went regularly all her life to chapel with George, but even when he +became deacon, and “supplied” the villages round, she never +would join the church as a member. She never agreed with the minister, +and he never could make anything out of her. They did not quarrel, +but she thought nothing of his sermons, and he was perplexed and uncomfortable +in the presence of a nondescript who did not respond to any dogmatic +statement of the articles of religion, and who yet could not be put +aside as “one of those in the gallery” - that is to say, +as one of the ordinary unconverted, for she used to quote hymns with +amazing fervour, and she quoted them to him with a freedom and a certain +superiority which he might have expected from an aged brother minister, +but certainly not from one of his own congregation. He was a preacher +of the Gospel, it was true; and it was his duty, a duty on which he +insisted, to be “instant in season and out of season” in +saying spiritual things to his flock; but then they were things proper, +decent, conventional, uttered with gravity at suitable times - such +as were customary amongst all the ministers of the denomination. +It was not pleasant to be outbid in his own department, especially by +one who was not a communicant, and to be obliged, when he went on a +pastoral visit to a house in which Mrs. Butts happened to be, to sit +still and hear her, regardless of the minister’s presence, conclude +a short mystical monologue with Cowper’s verse -<br> +<br> +<br> +“Exults our rising soul,<br> + Disburdened of her load,<br> +And swells unutterably full<br> + Of glory and of God.”<br> +<br> +<br> +This was <i>not </i>pleasant to our minister, nor was it pleasant to +the minister’s wife. But George Butts held a responsible +position in our community, and the minister’s wife held also a +responsible position, so that she taxed all her ingenuity to let her +friends understand at tea-parties what she thought of Mrs. Butts without +saying anything which could be the ground of formal remonstrance. +Thus did Mrs. Butts live among us, as an Arabian bird with its peculiar +habits, cries, and plumage might live in one of our barn-yards with +the ordinary barn-door fowls.<br> +<br> +I was never happier when I was a boy than when I was with Mrs. Butts +at the mill, which George had inherited. There was a grand freedom +in her house. The front door leading into the garden was always +open. There was no precise separation between the house and the +mill. The business and the dwelling-place were mixed up together, +and covered with flour. Mr. Butts was in the habit of walking +out of his mill into the living-room every now and then, and never dreamed +when one o’clock came that it was necessary for him to change +his floury coat before he had his dinner. His cap he also often +retained, and in any weather, not extraordinarily cold, he sat in his +shirtsleeves. The garden was large and half-wild. A man +from the mill, if work was slack, gave a day to it now and then, but +it was not trimmed and raked and combed like the other gardens in the +town. It was full of gooseberry trees, and I was permitted to +eat the gooseberries without stint. The mill-life, too, was inexpressibly +attractive - the dark chamber with the great, green, dripping wheel +in it, so awfully mysterious as the central life of the whole structure; +the machinery connected with the wheel - I knew not how; the hole where +the roach lay by the side of the mill-tail in the eddy; the haunts of +the water-rats which we used to hunt with Spot, the black and tan terrier, +and the still more exciting sport with the ferrets - all this drew me +down the lane perpetually. I liked, and even loved Mrs. Butts, +too, for her own sake. Her kindness to me was unlimited, and she +was never overcome with the fear of “spoiling me,” which +seemed the constant dread of most of my hostesses. I never lost +my love for her. It grew as I grew, despite my mother’s +scarcely suppressed hostility to her, and when I heard she was ill, +and was likely to die, I went to be with her. She was eighty years +old then. I sat by her bedside with her hand in mine. I +was there when she passed away, and - but I have no mind and no power +to say any more, for all the memories of her affection and of the sunny +days by the water come over me and prevent the calmness necessary for +a chronicle. She with all her faults and eccentricities will always +have in my heart a little chapel with an ever-burning light. She +was one of the very very few whom I have ever seen who knew how to love +a child.<br> +<br> +Mrs. Butts and George had one son who was named Clement. He was +exactly my own age, and naturally we were constant companions. +We went to the same school. He never distinguished himself at +his books, but he was chief among us. He had a versatile talent +for almost every accomplishment in which we delighted, but he was not +supreme in any one of them. There were better cricketers, better +football players, better hands at setting a night-line, better swimmers +than Clem, but he could do something, and do it well, in all these departments. +He generally took up a thing with much eagerness for a time, and then +let it drop. He was foremost in introducing new games and new +fashions, which he permitted to flourish for a time, and then superseded. +As he grew up he displayed a taste for drawing and music. He was +soon able to copy little paintings of flowers, or even little country +scenes, and to play a piece of no very great difficulty with tolerable +effect. But as he never was taught by a master, and never practised +elementary exercises and studies, he was deficient in accuracy. +When the question came what was to be done with him after he left school, +his father naturally wished him to go into the mill. Clem, however, +set his face steadily against this project, and his mother, who was +a believer in his genius, supported him. He actually wanted to +go to the University, a thing unheard of in those days amongst our people; +but this was not possible, and after dangling about for some time at +home, he obtained the post of usher in a school, an occupation which +he considered more congenial and intellectual than that of grinding +flour. Strange to say, although he knew less than any of his colleagues, +he succeeded better than any of them. He managed to impress a +sense of his own importance upon everybody, including the headmaster. +He slid into a position of superiority. above three or four colleagues +who would have shamed him at an examination, and who uttered many a +curse because they saw themselves surpassed and put in the shade by +a stranger, who, they were confident, could hardly construct a hexameter. +He never quarrelled with them nor did he grossly patronise them, but +he always let them know that he considered himself above them. +His reading was desultory; in fact, everything he did was desultory. +He was not selfish in the ordinary sense of the word. Rather was +he distinguished by a large and liberal open-handedness; but he was +liberal also to himself to a remarkable degree, dressing himself expensively, +and spending a good deal of money in luxuries. He was specially +fond of insisting on his half French origin, made a great deal of his +mother, was silent as to his father, and always signed himself C. Leroy +Butts, although I don’t believe the second Christian name was +given him in baptism. Notwithstanding his generosity he was egotistical +and hollow at heart. He knew nothing of friendship in the best +sense of the word, but had a multitude of acquaintances, whom he invariably +sought amongst those who were better off than himself. He was +popular with them, for no man knew better than he how to get up an entertainment, +or to make a success of an evening party. He had not been at his +school for two years before he conceived the notion of setting up for +himself. He had not a penny, but he borrowed easily what was wanted +from somebody he knew, and in a twelvemonth more he had a dozen pupils. +He took care to get the ablest subordinates he could find, and he succeeded +in passing a boy for an open scholarship at Oxford, against two competitors +prepared by the very man whom he had formerly served. After this +he prospered greatly, and would have prospered still more, if his love +of show and extravagance had not increased with his income. His +talents were sometimes taxed when people who came to place their sons +with him supposed ignorantly that his origin and attainments were what +might be expected from his position; and poor Chalmers, a Glasgow M.A., +who still taught, for £80 a year, the third class in the establishment +in which Butts began life, had some bitter stories on that subject. +Chalmers was a perfect scholar, but he was not agreeable. He had +black finger-nails, and wore dirty collars. Having a lively remembrance +of his friend’s “general acquaintance” with Latin +prosody, Chalmers’ opinion of Providence was much modified when +he discovered what Providence was doing for Butts. Clem took to +the Church when he started for himself. It would have been madness +in him to remain a Dissenter. But in private, if it suited his +purpose, he could always be airily sceptical, and he had a superficial +acquaintance, second-hand, with a multitude of books, many of them of +an infidel turn. I once rebuked him for his hypocrisy, and his +defence was that religious disputes were indifferent to him, and that +at any rate a man associates with gentlemen if he is a churchman. +Cultivation and manners he thought to be of more importance than Calvinism. +I believe that he partly meant what he said. He went to church +because the school would have failed if he had gone to chapel; but he +was sufficiently keen-sighted and clever to be beyond the petty quarrels +of the sects, and a song well sung was of much greater moment to him +than an essay on pædo-baptism. It was all very well of Chalmers +to revile him for his shallowness. He was shallow, and yet he +possessed in some mysterious way a talent which I greatly coveted, and +which in this world is inestimably precious - the talent of making people +give way before him - a capacity of self-impression. Chalmers +could never have commanded anybody. He had no power whatever, +even when he was right, to put his will against the wills of others, +but yielded first this way and then the other. Clem, on the contrary, +without any difficulty or any effort, could conquer all opposition, +and smilingly force everybody to do his bidding.<br> +<br> +Clem had a peculiar theory with regard to his own rights and those of +the class to which he considered that he belonged. He always held +implicitly and sometimes explicitly that gifted people live under a +kind of dispensation of grace; the law existing solely for dull souls. +What in a clown is a crime punishable by the laws of the land might +in a man of genius be a necessary development, or at any rate an excusable +offence. He had nothing to say for the servant-girl who had sinned +with the shopman, but if artist or poet were to carry off another man’s +wife, it might not be wrong.<br> +<br> +He believed, and acted upon the belief, that the inferior ought to render +perpetual incense to the superior, and that the superior should receive +it as a matter of course. When his father was ill he never waited +on him or sat up a single night with him. If duty was disagreeable +to him Clem paid homage to it afar off, but pleaded exemption. +He admitted that waiting on the sick is obligatory on people who are +fitted for it, and is very charming. Nothing was more beautiful +to him than tender, filial care spending itself for a beloved object. +But it was not his vocation. His nerves were more finely ordered +than those of mankind generally, and the sight of disease and suffering +distressed him too much. Everything was surrendered to him in +the houses of his friends. If any inconvenience was to be endured, +he was the first person to be protected from it, and he accepted the +greatest sacrifices, with a graceful acknowledgment, it is true, but +with no repulse. To what better purpose could the best wine be +put than in cherishing his imagination. It was simple waste to +allow it to be poured out upon the earth, and to give it to a fool was +no better. After he succeeded so well in the world, Clem, to a +great extent, deserted me, although I was his oldest friend and the +friend of his childhood. I heard that he visited a good many rich +persons, that he made much of them, and they made much of him. +He kept up a kind of acquaintance with me, not by writing to me, but +by the very cheap mode of sending me a newspaper now and then with a +marked paragraph in it announcing the exploits of his school at a cricket-match, +or occasionally with a report of a lecture which he had delivered. +He was a decent orator, and from motives of business if from no other, +he not unfrequently spoke in public. One or two of these lectures +wounded me a good deal. There was one in particular on <i>As You +Like It, </i>in which he held up to admiration the fidelity which is +so remarkable in Shakespeare, and lamented that in these days it was +so rare to find anything of the kind, he thought that we were becoming +more indifferent to one another. He maintained, however, that +man should be everything to man, and he then enlarged on the duty of +really cultivating affection, of its superiority to books, and on the +pleasure and profit of self-denial. I do not mean to accuse Clem +of downright hypocrisy. I have known many persons come up from +the country and go into raptures over a playhouse sun and moon who have +never bestowed a glance or a thought on the real sun and moon to be +seen from their own doors; and we are all aware it by no means follows +because we are moved to our very depths by the spectacle of unrecognised, +uncomplaining endurance in a novel, that therefore we can step over +the road to waste an hour or a sixpence upon the unrecognised, uncomplaining +endurance of the poor lone woman left a widow in the little villa there. +I was annoyed with myself because Clem’s abandonment of me so +much affected me. I wished I could cut the rope and carelessly +cast him adrift as he had cast me adrift, but I could not. I never +could make out and cannot make out what was the secret of his influence +over me; why I was unable to say, “If you do not care for me I +do not care for you.” I longed sometimes for complete rupture, +so that we might know exactly where we were, but it never came. +Gradually our intercourse grew thinner and thinner, until at last I +heard that he had been spending a fortnight with some semi-aristocratic +acquaintance within five miles of me, and during the whole of that time +he never came near me. I met him in a railway station soon afterwards, +when he came up to me effusive and apparently affectionate. “It +was a real grief to me, my dear fellow,” he said, “that +I could not call on you last month, but the truth was I was so driven: +they would make me go here and go there, and I kept putting off my visit +to you till it was too late.” Fortunately my train was just +starting, or I don’t know what might have happened. I said +not a word; shook hands with him; got into the carriage; he waved his +hat to me, and I pretended not to see him, but I did see him, and saw +him turn round immediately to some well-dressed officer-like gentleman +with whom he walked laughing down the platform. The rest of that +day was black to me. I cared for nothing. I passed away +from the thought of Clem, and dwelt upon the conviction which had long +possessed me that I was <i>insignificant, </i>that there was <i>nothing +much in me, </i>and it was this which destroyed my peace. We may +reconcile ourselves to poverty and suffering, but few of us can endure +the conviction that there is <i>nothing in us, </i>and that consequently +we cannot expect anybody to gravitate towards us with any forceful impulse. +It is a bitter experience. And yet there is consolation. +The universe is infinite. In the presence of its celestial magnitudes +who is there who is really great or small, and what is the difference +between you and me, my work and yours? I sought refuge in the +idea of GOD, the God of a starry night with its incomprehensible distances; +and I was at peace, content to be the meanest worm of all the millions +that crawl on the earth.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IV - A NECESSARY DEVELOPMENT<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +The few friends who have read the first part of my autobiography may +perhaps remember that in my younger days I had engaged myself to a girl +named Ellen, from whom afterwards I parted. After some two or +three years she was left an orphan, and came into the possession of +a small property, over which unfortunately she had complete power. +She was attractive and well-educated, and I heard long after I had broken +with her, and had ceased to have intercourse with Butts, that the two +were married. He of course, living so near her, had known her +well, and he found her money useful. How they agreed I knew not +save by report, but I was told that after the first child was born, +the only child they ever had, Butts grew indifferent to her, and that +she, to use my friend’s expression, “went off,” by +which I suppose he meant that she faded. There happened in those +days to live near Butts a small squire, married, but with no family. +He was a lethargic creature, about five-and-thirty years old, farming +eight hundred acres of his own land. He did not, however, belong +to the farming class. He had been to Harrow, was on the magistrates’ +bench, and associated with the small aristocracy of the country round. +He was like every other squire whom I remember in my native county, +and I can remember scores of them. He read no books and tolerated +the usual conventional breaches of the moral law, but was an intense +worshipper of respectability, and hated a scandal. On one point +he differed from his neighbours. He was a Whig and they were all +Tories. I have said he read no books, and this, on the whole, +is true, but nevertheless he did know something about the history of +the early part of the century, and he was rather fond at political gatherings +of making some allusion to Mr. Fox. His father had sat in the +House of Commons when Fox was there, and had sternly opposed the French +war. I don’t suppose that anybody not actually <i>in it</i> +- no Londoner certainly - can understand the rigidity of the bonds which +restricted county society when I was young, and for aught I know may +restrict it now. There was with us one huge and dark exception +to the general uniformity. The earl had broken loose, had ruined +his estate, had defied decorum and openly lived with strange women at +home and in Paris, but this black background did but set off the otherwise +universal adhesion to the Church and to authorised manners, an adhesion +tempered and rendered tolerable by port wine. It must not, however, +be supposed that human nature was different from the human nature of +to-day or a thousand years ago. There were then, even as there +were a thousand years ago, and are to-day, small, secret doors, connected +with mysterious staircases, by which access was gained to freedom; and +men and women, inmates of castles with walls a yard thick, and impenetrable +portcullises, sought those doors and descended those stairs night and +day. But nobody knew, or if we did know, the silence was profound. +The broad-shouldered, yellow-haired Whig squire, had a wife who was +the opposite of him. She came from a distant part of the country, +and had been educated in France. She was small, with black hair, +and yet with blue eyes. She spoke French perfectly, was devoted +to music, read French books, and, although she was a constant attendant +at church, and gave no opportunity whatever for the slightest suspicion, +the matrons of the circle in which she moved were never quite happy +about her. This was due partly to her knowledge of French, and +partly to her having no children. Anything more about her I do +not know. She was beyond us, and although I have seen her often +enough I never spoke to her. Butts, however, managed to become +a visitor at the squire’s house. Fancy <i>my </i>going to +the squire’s! But Butts did, was accepted there, and even +dined there with a parson, and two or three half-pay officers. +The squire never called on Butts. That was an understood thing, +nor did Mrs. Butts accompany her husband. That also was an understood +thing. It was strange that Butts could tolerate and even court +such a relationship. Most men would scorn with the scorn of a +personal insult an invitation to a house from which their wives were +expressly excluded. The squire’s lady and Clem became great +friends. She discovered that his mother was a Frenchwoman, and +this was a bond between them. She discovered also that Clem was +artistic, that he was devotedly fond of music, that he could draw a +little, paint a little, and she believed in the divine right of talent +wherever it might be found to assert a claim of equality with those +who were better born. The women in the country-side were shy of +her; for the men she could not possibly care, and no doubt she must +at times have got rather weary of her heavy husband with his one outlook +towards the universal in the person of George James Fox, and the Whig +policy of 1802. I am under some disadvantage in telling this part +of my story, because I was far away from home, and only knew afterwards +at second hand what the course of events had been; but I learned them +from one who was intimately concerned, and I do not think I can be mistaken +on any essential point. I imagine that by this time Mrs. Butts +must have become changed into what she was in later years. She +had grown older since she and I had parted; she had seen trouble; her +child had been born, and although she was not exactly estranged from +Clem, for neither he nor she would have admitted any coolness, she had +learned that she was nothing specially to him. I have often noticed +what an imperceptible touch, what a slight shifting in the balance of +opposing forces, will alter the character. I have observed a woman, +for example, essentially the same at twenty and thirty - who is there +who is not always essentially the same? - and yet, what was a defect +at twenty, has become transformed and transfigured into a benignant +virtue at thirty; translating the whole nature from the human to the +divine. Some slight depression has been wrought here, and some +slight lift has been given there, and beauty and order have miraculously +emerged from what was chaotic. The same thing may continually +be noticed in the hereditary transmission of qualities. The redeeming +virtue of the father palpably present in the son becomes his curse, +through a faint diminution of the strength of the check which caused +that virtue to be the father’s salvation. The propensity, +too, which is a man’s evil genius, and leads him to madness and +utter ruin, gives vivid reality to all his words and thoughts, and becomes +all his strength, if by divine assistance it can just be subdued and +prevented from rising in victorious insurrection. But this is +a digression, useful, however, in its way, because it will explain Mrs. +Butts when we come a little nearer to her in the future.<br> +<br> +For a time Clem’s visits to the squire’s house always took +place when the squire was at home, but an amateur concert was to be +arranged in which Clem was to take part together with the squire’s +lady. Clem consequently was obliged to go to the Hall for the +purpose of practising, and so it came to pass that he was there at unusual +hours and when the master was afield. These morning and afternoon +calls did not cease when the concert was over. Clem’s wife +did not know anything about them, and, if she noticed his frequent absence, +she was met with an excuse. Perhaps the worst, or almost the worst +effect of relationships which we do not like to acknowledge, is the +secrecy and equivocation which they beget. From the very first +moment when the intimacy between the squire’s wife and Clem began +to be anything more than harmless, he was compelled to shuffle and to +become contemptible. At the same time I believe he defended himself +against himself with the weapons which were ever ready when self rose +against self because of some wrong-doing. He was not as other +men. It was absurd to class what he did with what an ordinary +person might do, although externally his actions and those of the ordinary +person might resemble one another. I cannot trace the steps by +which the two sinners drew nearer and nearer together, for the simple +reason that this is an autobiography, and not a novel. I do not +know what the development was, nor did anybody except the person concerned. +Neither do I know what was the mental history of Mrs. Butts during this +unhappy period. She seldom talked about it afterwards. I +do, however, happen to recollect hearing her once say that her greatest +trouble was the cessation, from some unknown cause, of Clem’s +attempts - they were never many - to interest and amuse her. It +is easy to understand how this should be. If a man is guilty of +any defection from himself, of anything of which he is ashamed, everything +which is better becomes a farce to him. After he has been betrayed +by some passion, how can he pretend to the perfect enjoyment of what +is pure? The moment he feels any disposition to rise, he is stricken +through as if with an arrow, and he drops. Not until weeks, months, +and even years have elapsed, does he feel justified in surrendering +himself to a noble emotion. I have heard of persons who have been +able to ascend easily and instantaneously from the mud to the upper +air, and descend as easily; but to me at least they are incomprehensible. +Clem, less than most men, suffered permanently, or indeed in any way +from remorse, because he was so shielded by his peculiar philosophy; +but I can quite believe that when he got into the habit of calling at +the Hall at mid-day, his behaviour to his wife changed.<br> +<br> +One day in December the squire had gone out with the hounds. Clem, +going on from bad to worse, had now reached the point of planning to +be at the Hall when the squire was not at home. On that particular +afternoon Clem was there. It was about half-past four o’clock, +and the master was not expected till six. There had been some +music, the lady accompanying, and Clem singing. It was over, and +Clem, sitting down beside her at the piano, and pointing out with his +right hand some passage which had troubled him, had placed his left +arm on her shoulder, and round her neck, she not resisting. He +always swore afterwards that never till then had such a familiarity +as this been permitted, and I believe that he did not tell a lie. +But what was there in that familiarity? The worst was already +there, and it was through a mere accident that it never showed itself. +The accident was this. The squire, for some unknown reason, had +returned earlier than usual, and dismounting in the stable-yard, had +walked round the garden on the turf which came close to the windows +of the ground floor. Passing the drawing-room window, and looking +in by the edge of the drawn-down blind, he saw his wife and Clem just +at the moment described. He slipped round to the door, took off +his boots so that he might not be heard, and as there was a large screen +inside the room he was able to enter it unobserved. Clem caught +sight of him just as he emerged from behind the screen, and started +up instantly in great confusion, the lady, with greater presence of +mind, remaining perfectly still. Without a word the squire strode +up to Clem, struck out at him, caught him just over the temple, and +felled him instantaneously. He lay for some time senseless, and +what passed between husband and wife I cannot say. After about +ten minutes, perhaps, Clem came to himself; there was nobody to be seen; +and he managed to get up and crawl home. He told his wife he had +met with an accident; that he would go to bed, and that she should know +all about it when he was better. His forehead was dressed, and +to bed he went. That night Mrs. Butts had a letter. It ran +as follows:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“MADAM, - It may at first sight seem a harsh thing for me to write +and tell you what I have to say, but I can assure you I do not mean +to be anything but kind to you, and I think it will be better, for reasons +which I will afterwards explain, that I should communicate with you +rather than with your husband. For some time past I have suspected +that he was too fond of my wife, and last night I caught him with his +arms round her neck. In a moment of not unjustifiable anger I +knocked him down. I have not the honour of knowing you personally, +but from what I have heard of you I am sure that he has not the slightest +reason for playing with other women. A man who will do what he +has done will be very likely to conceal from you the true cause of his +disaster, and if you know the cause you may perhaps be able to reclaim +him. If he has any sense of honour left in him, and of what is +due to you, he will seek your pardon for his baseness, and you will +have a hold on him afterwards which you would not have if you were in +ignorance of what has happened. For him I do not care a straw, +but for you I feel deeply, and I believe that my frankness with you, +although it may cause you much suffering now, will save you more hereafter. +I have only one condition to make. Mr. Butts must leave this place, +and never let me see his face again. He has ruined my peace. +Nothing will be published through me, for, as far as I can prevent it, +I will have no public exposure. If Mr. Butts were to remain here +it would be dangerous for us to meet, and probably everything, by some +chance, would become common property. - Believe me to be, Madam, with +many assurances of respect, truly yours, - .”<br> +<br> +<br> +I cannot distinguish the precise proportion of cruelty in this letter. +Did the writer designedly torture Butts by telling his wife, or did +he really think that she would in the end be happier because Butts would +not have a secret reserved from her, - a temptation to lying - and because +with this secret in her possession, he might perhaps be restrained in +future? Nobody knows. All we know is that there are very +few human actions of which it can be said that this or that taken by +itself produced them. With our inborn tendency to abstract, to +separate mentally the concrete into factors which do not exist separately, +we are always disposed to assign causes which are too simple, and which, +in fact, have no being <i>in rerum natura</i>. Nothing in nature +is propelled or impeded by one force acting alone. There is no +such thing, save in the brain of the mathematician. I see no reason +why even motives diametrically opposite should not unite in one resulting +deed, and think it very probable that the squire was both cruel and +merciful to the same person in the letter; influenced by exactly conflicting +passions, whose conflict ended <i>so.<br> +<br> +</i>As to the squire and his wife, they lived together just as before. +I do not think, that, excepting the four persons concerned, anybody +ever heard a syllable about the affair, save myself a long while afterwards. +Clem, however, packed up and left the town, after selling his business. +He had a reputation for restlessness; and his departure, although it +was sudden, was no surprise. He betook himself to Australia, his +wife going with him. I heard that they had gone, and heard also +that he was tired of school-keeping in England, and had determined to +try his fortune in another part of the world. Our friendship had +dwindled to nothing, and I thought no more about him. Mrs. Butts +never uttered one word of reproach to her husband. I cannot say +that she loved him as she could have loved, but she had accepted him, +and she said to herself that as perhaps it was through her lack of sympathy +with him that he had strayed, it was her duty more and more to draw +him to herself. She had a divine disposition, not infrequent amongst +women, to seek in herself the reason for any wrong which was done to +her. That almost instinctive tendency in men, to excuse, to transfer +blame to others, to be angry with somebody else when they suffer from +the consequences of their own misdeeds, in her did not exist.<br> +<br> +During almost the whole of her married life, before this affair between +the squire and Clem, Mrs. Butts had had much trouble, although her trouble +was, perhaps, rather the absence of joy than the presence of any poignant +grief. She was much by herself. She had never been a great +reader, but in her frequent solitude she was forced to do something +in order to obtain relief, and she naturally turned to the Bible. +It would be foolish to say that the Bible alone was to be credited with +the support she received. It may only have been the occasion for +a revelation of the strength that was in her. Reading, however, +under such circumstances, is likely to be peculiarly profitable. +It is never so profitable as when it is undertaken in order that a positive +need may be satisfied or an inquiry answered. She discovered in +the Bible much that persons to whom it is a mere literature would never +find. The water of life was not merely admirable to the eye; she +drank it, and knew what a property it possessed for quenching thirst. +No doubt the thought of a heaven hereafter was especially consolatory. +She was able to endure, and even to be happy because the vision of lengthening +sorrow was bounded by a better world beyond. “A very poor, +barbarous gospel,” thinks the philosopher who rests on his Marcus +Antoninus and Epictetus. I do not mean to say, that in the shape +in which she believed this doctrine, it was not poor and barbarous, +but yet we all of us, whatever our creed may be, must lay hold at times +for salvation upon something like it. Those who have been plunged +up to the very lips in affliction know its necessity. To such +as these it is idle work for the prosperous and the comfortable to preach +satisfaction with the life that now is. There are seasons when +it is our sole resource to recollect that in a few short years we shall +be at rest. While upon this subject I may say, too, that some +injustice has been done to the Christian creed of immortality as an +influence in determining men’s conduct. Paul preached the +imminent advent of Christ and besought his disciples, therefore, to +watch, and we ask ourselves what is the moral value to us of such an +admonition. But surely if we are to have any reasons for being +virtuous, this is as good as any other. It is just as respectable +to believe that we ought to abstain from iniquity because Christ is +at hand, and we expect to meet Him, as to abstain from it because by +our abstention we shall be healthier or more prosperous. Paul +had a dream - an absurd dream let us call it - of an immediate millennium, +and of the return of his Master surrounded with divine splendour, judging +mankind and adjusting the balance between good and evil. It was +a baseless dream, and the enlightened may call it ridiculous. +It is anything but that, it is the very opposite of that. Putting +aside its temporary mode of expression, it is the hope and the prophecy +of all noble hearts, a sign of their inability to concur in the present +condition of things.<br> +<br> +Going back to Clem’s wife; she laid hold, as I have said, upon +heaven. The thought wrought in her something more than forgetfulness +of pain or the expectation of counterpoising bliss. We can understand +what this something was, for although we know no such heaven as hers, +a new temper is imparted to us, a new spirit breathed into us; I was +about to say a new hope bestowed upon us, when we consider that we live +surrounded by the soundless depths in which the stars repose. +Such a consideration has a direct practical effect upon us, and so had +the future upon the mind of Mrs. Butts. “Why dost thou judge +thy brother,” says Paul, “for we shall all stand before +the judgment-seat of God.” Paul does not mean that God will +punish him and that we may rest satisfied that our enemy will be turned +into hell fire. Rather does he mean, what we, too, feel, that, +reflecting on the great idea of God, and upon all that it involves, +our animosities are softened, and our heat against our brother is cooled.<br> +<br> +One or two reflections may perhaps be permitted here on this passage +in Mrs. Butts’ history.<br> +<br> +The fidelity of Clem’s wife to him, if not entirely due to the +New Testament, was in a great measure traceable to it. She had +learned from the Epistle to the Corinthians that charity beareth all +things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things; +and she interpreted this to mean, not merely charity to those whom she +loved by nature, but charity to those with whom she was not in sympathy, +and who even wronged her. Christianity no doubt does teach such +a charity as this, a love which is to be: independent of mere personal +likes and dislikes, a love of the human in man. The natural man, +the man of this century, uncontrolled by Christianity, considers himself +a model of what is virtuous and heroic if he really loves his friends, +and he permits all kinds of savage antipathies to those of his fellow +creatures with whom he is not in harmony. Jesus on the other hand +asks with His usual perfect simplicity, “If ye love them which +love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the publicans the same?” +It would be a great step in advance for most of us to love anybody, +and the publicans of the time of Jesus must have been a much more Christian +set than most Christians of the present day; but that we should love +those who do not love us is a height never scaled now, except by a few +of the elect in whom Christ still survives. In the gospel of Luke, +also, Mrs. Butts read that she was to hope for nothing again from her +love, and that she was to be merciful, as her Father in heaven is merciful. +That is really the expression of the <i>idea </i>in morality, and incalculable +is the blessing that our great religious teacher should have been bold +enough to teach the idea, and not any limitation of it. He always +taught it, the inward born, the heavenly law towards which everything +strives. He always trusted it; He did not deal in exceptions; +He relied on it to the uttermost, never despairing. This has always +seemed to me to be the real meaning of the word faith. It is permanent +confidence in the idea, a confidence never to be broken down by apparent +failure, or by examples by which ordinary people prove that qualification +is necessary. It was precisely because Jesus taught the idea, +and nothing below it, that He had such authority over a soul like my +friend’s, and the effect produced by Him could not have been produced +by anybody nearer to ordinary humanity.<br> +<br> +It must be admitted, too, that the Calvinism of those days had a powerful +influence in enabling men and women to endure, although I object to +giving the name of Calvin to a philosophy which is a necessity in all +ages. “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one +of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.” +This is the last word which can be said. Nothing can go beyond +it, and at times it is the only ground which we feel does not shake +under our feet. All life is summed up, and due account is taken +of it, according to its degree. Mrs. Butts’ Calvinism, however, +hardly took the usual dogmatic form. She was too simple to penetrate +the depths of metaphysical theology, and she never would have dared +to set down any of her fellow creatures as irrevocably lost. She +adapted the Calvinistic creed to something which suited her. For +example, she fully understood what St. Paul means when he tells the +Thessalonians that <i>because </i>they were called, <i>therefore </i>they +were to stand fast. She thought with Paul that being called; having +a duty plainly laid upon her; being bidden as if by a general to do +something, she <i>ought </i>to stand fast; and she stood fast, supported +against all pressure by the consciousness of fulfilling the special +orders of One who was her superior. There is no doubt that this +dogma of a personal calling is a great consolation, and it is a great +truth. Looking at the masses of humanity, driven this way and +that way, the Christian teaching is apt to be forgotten that for each +individual soul there is a vocation as real as if that soul were alone +upon the planet. Yet it is a fact. We are blinded to it +and can hardly believe it, because of the impotency of our little intellects +to conceive a destiny which shall take care of every atom of life on +the globe: we are compelled to think that in such vast crowds of people +as we behold, individuals must elude the eye of the Maker, and be swept +into forgetfulness. But the truth of truths is that the mind of +the universe is not our mind, or at any rate controlled by our limitations.<br> +<br> +This has been a long digression which I did not intend; but I could +not help it. I was anxious to show how Mrs. Butts met her trouble +through her religion. The apostle says that “<i>they drank +of that spiritual Rock which followed them, and that Rock was Christ</i>.” +That was true of her. The way through the desert was not annihilated; +the path remained stony and sore to the feet, but it was accompanied +to the end by a sweet stream to which she could turn aside, and from +which she could obtain refreshment and strength.<br> +<br> +Just about the time that we began our meetings near Drury Lane, I heard +that Clem was dead; that he had died abroad. I knew nothing more; +I thought about him and his wife perhaps for a day, but I had parted +from both long ago, and I went on with my work.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER V - WHAT IT ALL CAME TO<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +For two years or thereabouts, M’Kay and myself continued our labours +in the Drury Lane neighbourhood. There is a proverb that it is +the first step which is the most difficult in the achievement of any +object, and the proverb has been altered by ascribing the main part +of the difficulty to the last step. Neither the first nor the +last has been the difficult step with me, but rather what lies between. +The first is usually helped by the excitement and the promise of new +beginnings, and the last by the prospect of triumph; but the intermediate +path is unassisted by enthusiasm, and it is here we are so likely to +faint. M’Kay nevertheless persevered, supporting me, who +otherwise might have been tempted to despair, and at the end of the +two years we were still at our posts. We had, however, learned +something. We had learned that we could not make the slightest +impression on Drury Lane proper. Now and then an idler, or sometimes +a dozen, lounged in, but what was said was strange to them; they were +out of their own world as completely as if they were in another planet, +and all our efforts to reach them by simplicity of statement and by +talking about things which we supposed would interest them utterly failed. +I did not know, till I came in actual contact with them, how far away +the classes which lie at the bottom of great cities are from those above +them; how completely they are inaccessible to motives which act upon +ordinary human beings, and how deeply they are sunk beyond ray of sun +or stars, immersed in the selfishness naturally begotten of their incessant +struggle for existence and the incessant warfare with society. +It was an awful thought to me, ever present on those Sundays, and haunting +me at other times, that men, women, and children were living in such +brutish degradation, and that as they died others would take their place. +Our civilisation seemed nothing but a thin film or crust lying over +a volcanic pit, and I often wondered whether some day the pit would +not break up through it and destroy us all. Great towns are answerable +for the creation and maintenance of the masses of dark, impenetrable, +subterranean blackguardism, with which we became acquainted. The +filthy gloom of the sky, the dirt of the street, the absence of fresh +air, the herding of the poor into huge districts which cannot be opened +up by those who would do good, are tremendous agencies of corruption +which are active at such a rate that it is appalling to reflect what +our future will be if the accumulation of population be not checked. +To stand face to face with the insoluble is not pleasant. A man +will do anything rather than confess it is beyond him. He will +create pleasant fictions, and fancy a possible escape here and there, +but this problem of Drury Lane was round and hard like a ball of adamant. +The only thing I could do was faintly, and I was about to say stupidly, +hope - for I had no rational, tangible grounds for hoping - that some +force of which we are not now aware might some day develop itself which +will be able to resist and remove the pressure which sweeps and crushes +into a hell, sealed from the upper air, millions of human souls every +year in one quarter of the globe alone.<br> +<br> +M’Kay’s dreams therefore were not realised, and yet it would +be a mistake to say that they ended in nothing. It often happens +that a grand attempt, although it may fail - miserably fail - is fruitful +in the end and leaves a result, not the hoped for result it is true, +but one which would never have been attained without it. A youth +strives after the impossible, and he is apt to break his heart because +he has never even touched it, but nevertheless his whole life is the +sweeter for the striving; and the archer who aims at a mark a hundred +yards away will send his arrow further than he who sets his bow and +his arm for fifty yards. So it was with M’Kay. He +did not convert Drury Lane, but he saved two or three. One man +whom we came to know was a labourer in Somerset House, a kind of coal +porter employed in carrying coals into the offices there from the cellars +below, and in other menial duties. He had about fifteen or sixteen +shillings a week, and as the coals must necessarily be in the different +rooms before ten o’clock in the morning, he began work early, +and was obliged to live within an easy distance of the Strand. +This man had originally been a small tradesman in a country town. +He was honest, but he never could or never would push his trade in any +way. He was fond of all kinds of little mechanical contrivings, +disliked his shop, and ought to have been a carpenter or cabinet-maker +- not as a master but as a journeyman, for he had no ability whatever +to control men or direct large operations. He was married, and +a sense of duty to his wife - he fortunately had no children - induced +him to stand or sit behind his counter with regularity, but people would +not come to buy of him, because he never seemed to consider their buying +as any favour conferred on him; and thus he became gradually displaced +by his more energetic or more obsequious rivals. In the end he +was obliged to put up his shutters. Unhappily for him, he had +never been a very ardent attendant at any of the places of religious +worship in the town, and he had therefore no organisation to help him. +Not being master of any craft, he was in a pitiable plight, and was +slowly sinking, when he applied to the solicitor of the political party +for which he had always voted to assist him. The solicitor applied +to the member, and the member, much regretting the difficulty of obtaining +places for grown-up men, and explaining the pressure upon the Treasury, +wrote to say that the only post at his disposal was that of labourer. +He would have liked to offer a messengership, but the Treasury had hundreds +of applications from great people who wished to dispose of favourite +footmen whose services they no longer required. Our friend Taylor +had by this time been brought very low, or he would have held out for +something better, but there was nothing to be done. He was starving, +and he therefore accepted; came to London; got a room, one room only, +near Clare Market, and began his new duties. He was able to pick +up a shilling or two more weekly by going on errands for the clerks +during his slack time in the day, so that altogether on the average +he made up about eighteen shillings. Wandering about the Clare +Market region on Sunday he found us out, came in, and remained constant. +Naturally, as we had so few adherents, we gradually knew these few very +intimately, and Taylor would often spend a holiday or part of the Sunday +with us. He was not eminent for anything in particular, and an +educated man, selecting as his friends those only who stand for something, +would not have taken the slightest notice of him. He had read +nothing particular, and thought nothing particular - he was indeed one +of the masses - but in this respect different, that he had not the tendency +to association, aggregation, or clanship which belong to the masses +generally. He was different, of course, in all his ways from his +neighbours born and bred to Clare Market and its alleys. Although +commonplace, he had demands made upon him for an endurance by no means +commonplace, and he had sorrows which were as exquisite as those of +his betters. He did not much resent his poverty. To that +I think he would have submitted, and in fact he did submit to it cheerfully. +What rankled in him was the brutal disregard of him at the office. +He was a servant of servants. The messengers, who themselves were +exposed to all the petty tyrannies of the clerks, and dared not reply, +were Taylor’s masters, and sought a compensation for their own +serfdom by making his ten times worse. The head messenger, who +had been a butler, swore at him, and if Taylor had “answered” +he would have been reported. He had never been a person of much +importance, but at least he had been independent, and it was a new experience +for him to feel that he was a thing fit for nothing but to be cuffed +and cursed. Upon this point he used to get eloquent - as eloquent +as he could be, for he had small power of expression, and he would describe +to me the despair which came over him down in those dark vaults at the +prospect of life continuing after this fashion, and with not the minutest +gleam of light even at the very end. Nobody ever cared to know +the most ordinary facts about him. Nobody inquired whether he +was married or single; nobody troubled himself when he was ill. +If he was away, his pay was stopped; and when he returned to work nobody +asked if he was better. Who can wonder that at first, when he +was an utter stranger in a strange land, he was overcome by the situation, +and that the world was to him a dungeon worse than that of Chillon? +Who can wonder that he was becoming reckless? A little more of +such a life would have transformed him into a brute. He had not +the ability to become revolutionary, or it would have made him a conspirator. +Suffering of any kind is hard to bear, but the suffering which especially +damages character is that which is caused by the neglect or oppression +of man. At any rate it was so in Taylor’s case. I +believe that he would have been patient under any inevitable ordinance +of nature, but he could not lie still under contempt, the knowledge +that to those about him he was of less consequence than the mud under +their feet. He was timid and, after his failure as a shopkeeper, +and the near approach to the workhouse, he dreaded above everything +being again cast adrift. Strange conflict arose in him, for the +insults to which he was exposed drove him almost to madness; and yet +the dread of dismissal in a moment checked him when he was about to +“fire up,” as he called it, and reduced him to a silence +which was torture. Once he was ordered to bring some coals for +the messenger’s lobby. The man who gave him the order, finding +that he was a long time bringing them, went to the top of the stairs, +and bawled after him with an oath to make haste. The reason of +the delay was that Taylor had two loads to bring up - one for somebody +else. When he got to the top of the steps, the messenger with +another oath took the coals, and saying that he “would teach him +to skulk there again,” kicked the other coal-scuttle down to the +bottom. Taylor himself told me this; and yet, although he would +have rejoiced if the man had dropped down dead, and would willingly +have shot him, he was dumb. The check operated in an instant. +He saw himself without a penny, and in the streets. He went down +into the cellar, and raged and wept for an hour. Had he been a +workman, he would probably have throttled his enemy, or tried to do +it, or what is more likely, his enemy would not have dared to treat +him in such fashion, but he was powerless, and once losing his situation +he would have sunk down into the gutter, whence he would have been swept +by the parish into the indiscriminate heap of London pauperism, and +carted away to the Union, a conclusion which was worse to him than being +hung.<br> +<br> +Another of our friends was a waiter in one of the public-houses and +chop-houses combined, of which there are so many in the Strand. +He lived in a wretched alley which ran from St. Clement’s Church +to Boswell Court - I have forgotten its name - a dark crowded passage. +He was a man of about sixty - invariably called John, without the addition +of any surname. I knew him long before we opened our room, for +I was in the habit of frequently visiting the chop-house in which he +served. His hours were incredible. He began at nine o’clock +in the morning with sweeping the dining-room, cleaning the tables and +the gas globes, and at twelve business commenced with early luncheons. +Not till three-quarters of an hour after midnight could he leave, for +the house was much used by persons who supped there after the theatres. +During almost the whole of this time he was on his legs, and very often +he was unable to find two minutes in the day in which to get his dinner. +Sundays, however, were free. John was not a head waiter, but merely +a subordinate, and I never knew why at his time of life he had not risen +to a better position. He used to say that “things had been +against him,” and I had no right to seek for further explanations. +He was married, and had had three children, of whom one only was living +- a boy of ten years old, whom he hoped to get into the public-house +as a potboy for a beginning. Like Taylor, the world had well-nigh +overpowered John entirely - crushed him out of all shape, so that what +he was originally, or might have been, it was almost impossible to tell. +There was no particular character left in him. He may once have +been this or that, but every angle now was knocked off, as it is knocked +off from the rounded pebbles which for ages have been dragged up and +down the beach by the waves. For a lifetime he had been exposed +to all sorts of whims and caprices, generally speaking of the most unreasonable +kind, and he had become so trained to take everything without remonstrance +or murmuring that every cross in his life came to him as a chop alleged +by an irritated customer to be raw or done to a cinder. Poor wretch! +he had one trouble, however, which he could not accept with such equanimity, +or rather with such indifference. His wife was a drunkard. +This was an awful trial to him. The worst consequence was that +his boy knew that his mother got drunk. The neighbours kindly +enough volunteered to look after the little man when he was not at school, +and they waylaid him and gave him dinner when his mother was intoxicated; +but frequently he was the first when he returned to find out that there +was nothing for him to eat, and many a time he got up at night as late +as twelve o’clock, crawled downstairs, and went off to his father +to tell him that “she was very bad, and he could not go to sleep.” +The father, then, had to keep his son in the Strand till it was time +to close, take him back, and manage in the best way he could. +Over and over again was he obliged to sit by this wretched woman’s +bedside till breakfast time, and then had to go to work as usual. +Let anybody who has seen a case of this kind say whether the State ought +not to provide for the relief of such men as John, and whether he ought +not to have been able to send his wife away to some institution where +she might have been tended and restrained from destroying, not merely +herself, but her husband and her child. John hardly bore up under +this sorrow. A man may endure much, provided he knows that he +will be well supported when his day’s toil is over; but if the +help for which he looks fails, he falls. Oh those weary days in +that dark back dining-room, from which not a square inch of sky was +visible! weary days haunted by a fear that while he was there unknown +mischief was being done! weary days, whose close nevertheless he dreaded! +Beaten down, baffled, disappointed, if we are in tolerable health we +can contrive to live on some almost impossible chance, some most distant +flicker of hope. It is astonishing how minute a crack in the heavy +uniform cloud will relieve us; but when with all our searching we can +see nothing, then at last we sink. Such was John’s case +when I first came to know him. He attracted me rather, and bit +by bit he confided his story to me. He found out that I might +be trusted, and that I could sympathise, and he told me what he had +never told to anybody before. I was curious to discover whether +religion had done anything for him, and I put the question to him in +an indirect way. His answer was that “some on ’em +say there’s a better world where everything will be put right, +but somehow it seemed too good to be true.” That was his +reason for disbelief, and heaven had not the slightest effect on him. +He found out the room, and was one of our most constant friends.<br> +<br> +Another friend was of a totally different type. His name was Cardinal. +He was a Yorkshireman, broad-shouldered, ruddy in the face, short-necked, +inclined apparently to apoplexy, and certainly to passion. He +was a commercial traveller in the cloth trade, and as he had the southern +counties for his district, London was his home when he was not upon +his journeys. His wife was a curious contrast to him. She +was dark-haired, pinched-up, thin-lipped, and always seemed as if she +suffered from some chronic pain or gnawing - not sufficient to make +her ill, but sufficient to make her miserable. They had no children. +Cardinal in early life had been a member of an orthodox Dissenting congregation, +but he had fallen away. He had nobody to guide him, and the position +into which he fell was peculiar. He never busied himself about +religion or philosophy; indeed he had had no training which would have +led him to take an interest in abstract questions, but he read all kinds +of romances and poetry without any order and upon no system. He +had no discriminating faculty, and mixed up together the most heterogeneous +mass of trumpery novels, French translations, and the best English authors, +provided only they were unworldly or sentimental. Neither did +he know how far to take what he read and use it in his daily life. +He often selected some fantastical motive which he had found set forth +as operative in one of his heroes, and he brought it into his business, +much to the astonishment of his masters and customers. For this +reason he was not stable. He changed employers two or three times; +and, so far as I could make out, his ground of objection to each of +the firms whom he left might have been a ground of dislike in a girl +to a suitor, but certainly nothing more. During the intervals +of his engagements, unless he was pressed for money, he did nothing +- not from laziness, but because he had got a notion in his head that +his mind wanted rest and reinvigoration. His habit then was to +consume the whole day - day after day - in reading or in walking out +by himself. It may easily be supposed that with a temperament +like his, and with nobody near him to take him by the hand, he made +great mistakes. His wife and he cared nothing for one another, +but she was jealous to the last degree. I never saw such jealousy. +It was strange that, although she almost hated him, she watched him +with feline sharpness and patience, and would even have killed any woman +whom she knew had won his affection. He, on the other hand, openly +avowed that marriage without love was nothing, and flaunted without +the least modification the most ideal theories as to the relation between +man and woman. Not that he ever went actually wrong. His +boyish education, his natural purity, and a fear never wholly suppressed, +restrained him. He exasperated people by his impracticability, +and it must be acknowledged that it is very irritating in a difficult +complexity demanding the gravest consideration - the balancing of this +against that - to hear a man suddenly propose some naked principle with +which everybody is acquainted, and decide by it solely. I came +to know him through M’Kay, who had known him for years; but M’Kay +at last broke out against him, and called him a stupid fool when he +threw up a handsome salary and refused to serve any longer under a house +which had always treated him well, because they, moving with the times, +had determined to offer their customers a cheaper description of goods, +which Cardinal thought was dishonest. M’Kay said, and said +truly, that many poor persons would buy these goods who could buy nothing +else, and that Cardinal, before yielding to such scruples, ought to +satisfy himself that, by yielding, he would not become a burden upon +others less fanciful. This was just what happened. Cardinal +could get no work again for a long time, and had to borrow money. +I was sorry; but for my part, this and other eccentricities did not +disturb my confidence in him. He was an honest, affectionate soul, +and his peculiarities were a necessary result of the total chaos of +a time without any moral guidance. With no church, no philosophy, +no religion, the wonder is that anybody on whom use and wont relax their +hold should ever do anything more than blindly rove hither and thither, +arriving at nothing. Cardinal was adrift, like thousands and hundreds +of thousands of others, and amidst the storm and pitchy darkness of +the night, thousands and hundreds of thousands of voices offer us pilotage. +It spoke well for him that he did nothing worse than take a few useless +phantoms on board which did him no harm, and that he held fast to his +own instinct for truth and goodness. I never let myself be annoyed +by what he produced to me from his books. All that I discarded. +Underneath all that was a solid worth which I loved, and which was mostly +not vocal. What was vocal in him was, I am bound to say, not of +much value.<br> +<br> +About the time when our room opened, Mrs. Cardinal had become almost +insupportable to her husband. Poor woman; I always pitied her; +she was alone sometimes for a fortnight at a stretch; she read nothing; +there was no child to occupy her thoughts; she knew that her husband +lived in a world into which she never entered, and she had nothing to +do but to brood over imaginary infidelities. She was literally +possessed, and who shall be hard upon her? Nobody cared for her; +everybody with whom her husband associated disliked her, and she knew +perfectly well they never asked her to their houses except for his sake. +Cardinal vowed at last he would endure her no longer, and that they +must separate. He was induced one Sunday morning, when his resolution +was strong within him, and he was just about to give effect to it, to +come with us. The quiet seemed to soothe him, and he went home +with me afterwards. He was not slow to disclose to me his miserable +condition, and his resolve to change it. I do not know now what +I said, but it appeared to me that he ought not to change it, and that +change would be for him most perilous. I thought that with a little +care life might become at least bearable with his wife; that by treating +her not so much as if she were criminal, but as if she were diseased, +hatred might pass into pity, and pity into merciful tenderness to her, +and that they might dwell together upon terms not harder than those +upon which many persons who have made mistakes in youth agree to remain +with each other; terms which, after much consideration, they adjudge +it better to accept than to break loose, and bring upon themselves and +those connected with them all that open rupture involves. The +difficulty was to get Cardinal to give up his theory of what two abstract +human beings should do between whom no love exists. It seemed +to him something like atheism to forsake his clearly-discerned, simple +rule for a course which was dictated by no easily-grasped higher law, +and it was very difficult to persuade him that there is anything of +equal authority in a law less rigid in its outline. However, he +went home. I called on him some time afterwards, and saw that +a peace, or at any rate a truce, was proclaimed, which lasted up to +the day of his death. M’Kay and I agreed to make as much +of Mrs. Cardinal as we could, and yielding to urgent invitation, she +came to the room. This wonderfully helped to heal her. She +began to feel that she was not overlooked, put on one side, or despised, +and the bonds which bound her constricted lips into bitterness were +loosened.<br> +<br> +Another friend, and the last whom I shall name, was a young man named +Clark. He was lame, and had been so from childhood. His +father was a tradesman, working hard from early morning till late at +night, and burdened with a number of children. The boy Richard, +shut out from the companionship of his fellows, had a great love of +books. When he left school his father did not know what to do +with him - in fact there was only one occupation open to him, and that +was clerical work of one kind or another. At last he got a place +in a house in Fleet Street, which did a large business in those days +in sending newspapers into the country. His whole occupation all +day long was to write addresses, and for this he received twenty-five +shillings a week, his hours being from nine o’clock till seven. +The office in which he sat was crowded, and in order to squeeze the +staff into the smallest space, rent being dear, a gallery had been run +round the wall about four feet from the ceiling. This was provided +with desks and gas lamps, and up there Clark sat, artificial light being +necessary four days out of five. He came straight from the town +in which his father lived to Fleet Street, and once settled in it there +seemed no chance of change for the better. He knew what his father’s +struggles were; he could not go back to him, and he had not the energy +to attempt to lift himself. It is very doubtful too whether he +could have succeeded in achieving any improvement, whatever his energy +might have been. He had got lodgings in Newcastle Street, and +to these he returned in the evening, remaining there alone with his +little library, and seldom moving out of doors. He was unhealthy +constitutionally, and his habits contributed to make him more so. +Everything which he saw which was good seemed only to sharpen the contrast +between himself and his lot, and his reading was a curse to him rather +than a blessing. I sometimes wished that he had never inherited +any love whatever for what is usually considered to be the Best, and +that he had been endowed with an organisation coarse and commonplace, +like that of his colleagues. If he went into company which suited +him, or read anything which interested him, it seemed as if the ten +hours of the gallery in Fleet Street had been made thereby only the +more insupportable, and his habitual mood was one of despondency, so +that his fellow clerks who knew his tastes not unnaturally asked what +was the use of them if they only made him wretched; and they were more +than ever convinced that in their amusements lay true happiness. +Habit, which is the saviour of most of us, the opiate which dulls the +otherwise unbearable miseries of life, only served to make Clark more +sensitive. The monotony of that perpetual address-copying was +terrible. He has told me with a kind of shame what an effect it +had upon him - that sometimes for days he would feed upon the prospect +of the most childish trifle because it would break in some slight degree +the uniformity of his toil. For example, he would sometimes change +from quill to steel pens and back again, and he found himself actually +looking forward with a kind of joy - merely because of the variation +- to the day on which he had fixed to go back to the quill after using +steel. He would determine, two or three days beforehand, to get +up earlier, and to walk to Fleet Street by way of Great Queen Street +and Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and upon this he would subsist till +the day came. He could make no longer excursions because of his +lameness. All this may sound very much like simple silliness to +most people, but those who have not been bound to a wheel do not know +what thoughts come into the head of the strongest man who is extended +on it. Clark sat side by side in his gallery with other young +men of rather a degraded type, and the confinement bred in them a filthy +grossness with which they tormented him. They excited in him loathsome +images, from which he could not free himself either by day or night. +He was peculiarly weak in his inability to cast off impressions, or +to get rid of mental pictures when once formed, and his distress at +being haunted by these hateful, disgusting thoughts was pitiable. +They were in fact almost more than thoughts, they were transportations +out of himself - real visions. It would have been his salvation +if he could have been a carpenter or a bricklayer, in country air, but +this could not be.<br> +<br> +Clark had no power to think connectedly to a conclusion. When +an idea came into his head, he dwelt upon it incessantly, and no correction +of the false path upon which it set him was possible, because he avoided +society. Work over, he was so sick of people that he went back +to himself. So it came to pass that when brought into company, +what he believed and cherished was frequently found to be open to obvious +objection, and was often nothing better than nonsense which was rudely, +and as he himself was forced to admit, justly overthrown. He ought +to have been surrounded with intelligent friends, who would have enabled +him to see continually the other side, and who would have prevented +his long and useless wanderings. Like many other persons, too, +whom I have known - just in proportion to his lack of penetrative power +was his tendency to occupy himself with difficult questions. By +a cruel destiny he was impelled to dabble in matters for which he was +totally unfitted. He never could go beyond his author a single +step, and he lost himself in endless mazes. If he could but have +been persuaded to content himself with sweet presentations of wholesome +happy existence, with stories and with history, how much better it would +have been for him! He had had no proper training whatever for +anything more, he was ignorant of the exact meaning of the proper terminology +of science, and an unlucky day it was for him when he picked up on a +bookstall some very early translation of some German book on philosophy. +One reason, as may be conjectured, for his mistakes was his education +in dissenting Calvinism, a religion which is entirely metaphysical, +and encourages, unhappily, in everybody a taste for tremendous problems. +So long as Calvinism is unshaken, the mischief is often not obvious, +because a ready solution taken on trust is provided; but when doubts +arise, the evil results become apparent, and the poor helpless victim, +totally at a loss, is torn first in this direction and then in the other, +and cannot let these questions alone. He has been taught to believe +they are connected with salvation, and he is compelled still to busy +himself with them, rather than with simple external piety.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VI - DRURY LANE THEOLOGY<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Such were some of our disciples. I do not think that church or +chapel would have done them much good. Preachers are like unskilled +doctors with the same pill and draught for every complaint. They +do not know where the fatal spot lies on lung or heart or nerve which +robs us of life. If any of these persons just described had gone +to church or chapel they would have heard discourses on the usual set +topics, none of which would have concerned them. Their trouble +was not the forgiveness of sins, the fallacies of Arianism, the personality +of the Holy Ghost, or the doctrine of the Eucharist. They all +<i>wanted </i>something distinctly. They had great gaping needs +which they longed to satisfy, intensely practical and special. +Some of these necessities no words could in any way meet. It was +obvious, for instance, that Clark must at once be taken away from his +gallery and his copying if he was to live - at least in sanity. +He had fortunately learned shorthand, and M’Kay got him employment +on a newspaper. His knowledge of his art was by no means perfect +at first, but he was sent to attend meetings where <i>verbatim </i>reports +were not necessary, and he quickly advanced. Taylor, too, we tried +to remove, and we succeeded in attaching him to a large club as an out-of-doors +porter. The poor man was now at least in the open air, and freed +from insolent tyranny. This, however, was help such as anybody +might have given. The question of most importance is, What gospel +had we to give? Why, in short, did we meet on the Sunday? +What was our justification? In the first place, there was the +simple quietude. The retreat from the streets and from miserable +cares into a place where there was peace and room for reflection was +something. It is all very well for cultivated persons with libraries +to scoff at religious services. To the poor the cathedral or the +church might be an immense benefit, if only for the reason that they +present a barrier to worldly noise, and are a distinct invitation by +architecture and symbolic decoration to meditation on something beyond +the business which presses on them during the week. Poor people +frequently cannot read for want of a place in which to read. Moreover, +they require to be provoked by a stronger stimulus than that of a book. +They willingly hear a man talk if he has anything to say, when they +would not care to look at what he said if it were printed. But +to come more closely to the point. Our main object was to create +in our hearers contentment with their lot; and even some joy in it. +That was our religion; that was the central thought of all we said and +did, giving shape and tendency to everything. We admitted nothing +which did not help us in that direction, and everything which did help +us. Our attempts, to any one who had not the key, may have seemed +vague and desultory. We might by a stranger have been accused +of feeble wandering, of idle dabbling, now in this subject and now in +that, but after a while he would have found that though we were weak +creatures, with no pretence to special knowledge in any subject, we +at least knew what we meant, and tried to accomplish it. For my +own part, I was happy when I had struck that path. I felt as if +somehow, after many errors, I had once more gained a road, a religion +in fact, and one which essentially was not new but old, the religion +of the Reconciliation, the reconciliation of man with God; differing +from the current creed in so far as I did not lay stress upon sin as +the cause of estrangement, but yet agreeing with it in making it my +duty of duties to suppress revolt, and to submit calmly and sometimes +cheerfully to the Creator. This surely, under a thousand disguises, +has been the meaning of all the forms of worship which we have seen +in the world. Pain and death are nothing new, and men have been +driven into perplexed scepticism, and even insurrection by them, ever +since men came into being. Always, however, have the majority, +the vast majority of the race, felt instinctively that in this scepticism +and insurrection they could not abide, and they have struggled more +or less blindly after explanation; determined not to desist till they +had found it, and reaching a result embodied in a multitude of shapes +irrational and absurd to the superficial scoffer, but of profound interest +to the thoughtful. I may observe, in passing, that this is a reason +why all great religions should be treated with respect, and in a certain +sense preserved. It is nothing less than a wicked waste of accumulated +human strivings to sneer them out of existence. They will be found, +every one of them, to have incarnated certain vital doctrines which +it has cost centuries of toil and devotion properly to appreciate. +Especially is this true of the Catholic faith, and if it were worth +while, it might be shown how it is nothing less than a divine casket +of precious remedies, and if it is to be brutally broken, it will take +ages to rediscover and restore them. Of one thing I am certain, +that their rediscovery and restoration will be necessary. I cannot +too earnestly insist upon the need of our holding, each man for himself, +by some faith which shall anchor him. It must not be taken up +by chance. We must fight for it, for only so will it become <i>our +</i>faith. The halt in indifference or in hostility is easy enough +and seductive enough. The half-hearted thinks that when he has +attained that stage he has completed the term of human wisdom. +I say go on: do not stay there; do not take it for granted that there +is nothing beyond; incessantly attempt an advance, and at last a light, +dim it may be, will arise. It will not be a completed system, +perfect in all points, an answer to all our questions, but at least +it will give ground for hope.<br> +<br> +We had to face the trials of our friends, and we had to face death. +I do not say for an instant that we had any effectual reply to these +great arguments against us. We never so much as sought for one, +knowing how all men had sought and failed. But we were able to +say there is some compensation, that there is another side, and this +is all that man can say. No theory of the world is possible. +The storm, the rain slowly rotting the harvest, children sickening in +cellars are obvious; but equally obvious are an evening in June, the +delight of men and women in one another, in music, and in the exercise +of thought. There can surely be no question that the sum of satisfaction +is increasing, not merely in the gross but for each human being, as +the earth from which we sprang is being worked out of the race, and +a higher type is being developed. I may observe, too, that although +it is usually supposed, it is erroneously supposed, that it is pure +doubt which disturbs or depresses us. Simple suspense is in fact +very rare, for there are few persons so constituted as to be able to +remain in it. It is dogmatism under the cloak of doubt which pulls +us down. It is the dogmatism of death, for example, which we have +to avoid. The open grave is dogmatic, and we say <i>that man has +gone</i>, but this is as much a transgression of the limits of certitude +as if we were to say <i>he is an angel in bliss</i>. The proper +attitude, the attitude enjoined by the severest exercise of the reason +is, <i>I do not know</i>; and in this there is an element of hope, now +rising and now falling, but always sufficient to prevent that blank +despair which we must feel if we consider it as settled that when we +lie down under the grass there is an absolute end.<br> +<br> +The provision in nature of infinity ever present to us is an immense +help. No man can look up to the stars at night and reflect upon +what lies behind them without feeling that the tyranny of the senses +is loosened, and the tyranny, too, of the conclusions of his logic. +The beyond and the beyond, let us turn it over as we may, let us consider +it as a child considers it, or by the light of the newest philosophy, +is a constant, visible warning not to make our minds the measure of +the universe. Underneath the stars what dreams, what conjectures +arise, shadowy enough, it is true; but one thing we cannot help believing +as irresistibly as if by geometrical deduction - that the sphere of +that understanding of ours, whose function it seems to be to imprison +us, is limited.<br> +<br> +Going through a churchyard one afternoon I noticed that nearly all the +people who were buried there, if the inscriptions on the tombstones +might be taken to represent the thoughts of the departed when they were +alive, had been intent solely on their own personal salvation. +The question with them all seemed to have been, shall <i>I </i>go to +heaven? Considering the tremendous difference between heaven and +hell in the popular imagination, it was very natural that these poor +creatures should be anxious above everything to know whether they would +be in hell or heaven for ever. Surely, however, this is not the +highest frame of mind, nor is it one to be encouraged. I would +rather do all I can to get out of it, and to draw others out of it too. +Our aim ought not so much to be the salvation of this poor petty self, +but of that in me which alone makes it worth while to save me; of that +alone which I hope will be saved, immortal truth. The very centre +of the existence of the ordinary chapel-goer and church-goer needs to +be shifted from self to what is outside self, and yet is truly self, +and the sole truth of self. If the truth lives, <i>we </i>live, +and if it dies, we are dead. Our theology stands in need of a +reformation greater than that of Luther’s. It may be said +that the attempt to replace the care for self in us by a care for the +universal is ridiculous. Man cannot rise to that height. +I do not believe it. I believe we can rise to it. Every +ordinary unselfish act is a proof of the capacity to rise to it; and +the mother’s denial of all care for her own happiness, if she +can but make her child happy, is a sublime anticipation. It may +be called an instinct, but in the course of time it will be possible +to develop a wider instinct in us, so that our love for the truth shall +be even maternally passionate and self-forgetting.<br> +<br> +After all our searching it was difficult to find anything which, in +the case of a man like John the waiter, for example, could be of any +service to him. At his age efficient help was beyond us, and in +his case the problem presented itself in its simple nakedness. +What comfort is there discoverable for the wretched which is not based +upon illusion? We could not tell him that all he endured was right +and proper. But even to him we were able to offer something. +We did all we could to soothe him. On the Sunday, at least, he +was able to find some relief from his labours, and he entered into a +different region. He came to see us in the afternoon and evening +occasionally, and brought his boy. Father and son were pulled +up out of the vault, brought into the daylight, and led into an open +expanse. We tried above everything to interest them, even in the +smallest degree, in what is universal and impersonal, feeling that in +that direction lies healing. We explained to the child as well +as we could some morsels of science, and in explaining to him we explained +to the father as well. When the anguish begotten by some outbreak +on the part of the wife more violent than usual became almost too much +to bear, we did our best to counsel, and as a last consolation we could +point to Death, divine Death, and repose. It was but for a few +more years at the utmost, and then must come a rest which no sorrow +could invade. “Having death as an ally, I do not tremble +at shadows,” is an immortal quotation from some unknown Greek +author. Providence, too, by no miracle, came to our relief. +The wife died, as it was foreseen she must, and that weight being removed, +some elasticity and recoil developed itself. John’s one +thought now was for his child, and by means of the child the father +passed out of himself, and connected himself with the future. +The child did in fact teach the father exactly what we tried to teach, +and taught it with a power of conviction which never could have been +produced by any mere appeals to the reason. The father felt that +he was battered, useless, and a failure, but that in the boy there were +unknown possibilities, and that he might in after life say that it was +to this battered, useless failure of a father he owed his success. +There was nothing now that he would not do to help Tom’s education, +and we joyfully aided as best we could. So, partly I believe by +us, but far more by nature herself, John’s salvation was wrought +out at least in a measure; discord by the intervention of another note +resolved itself into a kind of harmony, and even through the skylight +in the Strand a glimpse of the azure was obtained.<br> +<br> +I hope my readers, if I should ever have any, will remember that what +I wish to do is to give some account of the manner in which we sought +to be of service to the small and very humble circle of persons whom +we had collected about us. I have preserved no record of anything; +I am merely putting down what now comes into my mind - the two or three +articles, not thirty-nine, nor, alas! a third of that number - which +we were able to hold. I recollect one or two more which perhaps +are worth preservation. In my younger days the aim of theologians +was the justification of the ways of God to man. They could not +succeed. They succeeded no better than ourselves in satisfying +the intellect with a system. Nor does the Christian religion profess +any such satisfaction. It teaches rather the great doctrine of +a Remedy, of a Mediator; and therein it is profoundly true. It +is unphilosophical in the sense that it offers no explanation from a +single principle, and leaves the ultimate mystery as dark as before, +but it is in accordance with our intuitions. Everywhere in nature +we see exaction of penalties down to the uttermost farthing, but following +after this we discern forgiveness, obliterating and restorative. +Both tendencies exist. Nature is Rhadamanthine, and more so, for +she visits the sins of the fathers upon the children; but there is in +her also an infinite Pity, healing all wounds, softening all calamities, +ever hastening to alleviate and repair. Christianity in strange +historical fashion is an expression of nature, a projection of her into +a biography and a creed.<br> +<br> +We endeavoured to follow Christianity in the depth of its distinction +between right and wrong. Herein this religion is of priceless +value. Philosophy proclaims the unity of our nature. To +philosophy every passion is as natural as every act of saintlike negation, +and one of the usual effects of thinking or philosophising is to bring +together all that is apparently contrary in man, and to show how it +proceeds really from one centre. But Christianity had not to propound +a theory of man; it had to redeem the world. It laid awful stress +on the duality in us, and the stress laid on that duality is the world’s +salvation. The words right and wrong are not felt now as they +were felt by Paul. They shade off one into the other. Nevertheless, +if mankind is not to be lost, the ancient antagonism must be maintained. +The shallowest of mortals is able now to laugh at the notion of a personal +devil. No doubt there is no such thing existent; but the horror +at evil which could find no other expression than in the creation of +a devil is no subject for laughter, and if it do not in some shape or +other survive, the race itself will not survive. No religion, +so far as I know, has dwelt like Christianity with such profound earnestness +on the bisection of man - on the distinction within him, vital to the +very last degree, between the higher and the lower, heaven and hell. +What utter folly is it because of an antique vesture to condemn as effete +what the vesture clothes! Its doctrine and its sacred story are +fixtures in concrete form of precious thoughts purchased by blood and +tears.<br> +<br> +I fancy I see the sneer of theologians and critics at our efforts. +The theologians will mock us because we had nothing better to say. +I can only reply that we did our best. We said all we knew, and +we would most thankfully have said more, had we been sure that it must +be true. I would remind, too, those of our judges who think that +we were such wretched mortals, blind leaders of the blind, that there +have been long ages during which men never pretended to understand more +than we professed to understand. To say nothing of the Jews, whose +meagre system would certainly not have been thought either satisfying +or orthodox by modern Christians, the Greeks and Romans lived in no +clearer light than that which shines on me. The critics, too, +will condemn because of our weakness; but this defect I at once concede. +The severest critic could not possibly be so severe as I am upon myself. +I <i>know </i>my failings. He, probably, would miss many of them. +But, again I urge that men are not to be debarred by reason of weakness +from doing what little good may lie within reach of their hands. +Had we attempted to save scholars and thinkers we should have deserved +the ridicule with which no doubt we shall be visited. We aspired +to save nobody. We knew no salvation ourselves. We ventured +humbly to bring a feeble ray of light into the dwellings of two or three +poor men and women; and if Prometheus, fettered to his rock, dwelt with +pride on the blind hopes which he had caused to visit mortals, the hopes +which “stopped the continued anticipation of their destiny,” +we perhaps may be pardoned if at times we thought that what we were +doing was not altogether vanity.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VII - QUI DEDIT IN MARI VIAM<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +From time to time I received a newspaper from my native town, and one +morning, looking over the advertisements, I caught sight of one which +arrested me. It was as follows:-<br> +<br> +<br> +“A Widow Lady desires a situation as Daily Governess to little +children. Address E. B., care of Mrs. George Andrews, Fancy Bazaar, +High Street.”<br> +<br> +<br> +Mrs. George Andrews was a cousin of Ellen Butts, and that this was her +advertisement I had not the slightest doubt. Suddenly, without +being able to give the least reason for it, an unconquerable desire +to see her arose within me. I could not understand it. I +recollected that memorable resolution after Miss Arbour’s story +years ago. How true that counsel of Miss Arbour’s was! and +yet it had the defect of most counsel. It was but a principle; +whether it suited this particular case was the one important point on +which Miss Arbour was no authority. What <i>was </i>it which prompted +this inexplicable emotion? A thousand things rushed through my +head without reason or order. I begin to believe that a first +love never dies. A boy falls in love at eighteen or nineteen. +The attachment comes to nothing. It is broken off for a multitude +of reasons, and he sees its absurdity. He marries afterwards some +other woman whom he even adores, and he has children for whom he spends +his life; yet in an obscure corner of his soul he preserves everlastingly +the cherished picture of the girl who first was dear to him. She, +too, marries. In process of time she is fifty years old, and he +is fifty-two. He has not seen her for thirty years or more, but +he continually turns aside into the little oratory, to gaze upon the +face as it last appeared to him when he left her at her gate and saw +her no more. He inquires now and then timidly about her whenever +he gets the chance. And once in his life he goes down to the town +where she lives, solely in order to get a sight of her without her knowing +anything about it. He does not succeed, and he comes back and +tells his wife, from whom he never conceals any secrets, that he has +been away on business. I did not for a moment confess that my +love for Ellen had returned. I knew who she was and what she was, +and what had led to our separation; but nevertheless, all this obstinately +remained in the background, and all the passages of love between us, +all our kisses, and above everything, her tears at that parting in her +father’s house, thrust themselves upon me. It was a mystery +to me. What should have induced that utterly unexpected resurrection +of what I believed to be dead and buried, is beyond my comprehension. +However, the fact remains. I did not to myself admit that this +was love, but it <i>was </i>love, and that it should have shot up with +such swift vitality merely because I had happened to see those initials +was miraculous. I pretended to myself that I should like once +more to see Mrs. Butts - perhaps she might be in want and I could help +her. I shrank from writing to her or from making myself known +to her, and at last I hit upon the expedient of answering her advertisement +in a feigned name, and requesting her to call at the King’s Arms +hotel upon a gentleman who wished to engage a widow lady to teach his +children. To prevent any previous inquiries on her part, I said +that my name was Williams, that I lived in the country at some little +distance from the town, but that I should be there on business on the +day named. I took up my quarters at the King’s Arms the +night before. It seemed very strange to be in an inn in the place +in which I was born. I retired early to my bedroom, and looked +out in the clear moonlight over the river. The landscape seemed +haunted by ghosts of my former self. At one particular point, +so well known, I stood fishing. At another, equally well known, +where the water was dangerously deep, I was examining the ice; and round +the corner was the boathouse where we kept the little craft in which +I had voyaged so many hundreds of miles on excursions upwards beyond +where the navigation ends, or, still more fascinating, down to where +the water widens and sails are to be seen, and there is a foretaste +of the distant sea. It is no pleasure to me to revisit scenes +in which earlier days have been passed. I detest the sentimental +melancholy which steals over me; the sense of the lapse of time, and +the reflection that so many whom I knew are dead. I would always, +if possible, spend my holiday in some new scene, fresh to me, and full +of new interest. I slept but little, and when the morning came, +instead of carrying out my purpose of wandering through the streets, +I was so sick of the mood by which I had been helplessly overcome, that +I sat at a distance from the window in the coffee-room, and read diligently +last week’s <i>Bell’s Weekly Messenger</i>. My reading, +however, was nothing. I do not suppose I comprehended the simplest +paragraph. My thoughts were away, and I watched the clock slowly +turning towards the hour when Ellen was to call. I foresaw that +I should not be able to speak to her at the inn. If I have anything +particular to say to anybody, I can always say it so much better out +of doors. I dreaded the confinement of the room, and the necessity +for looking into her face. Under the sky, and in motion, I should +be more at liberty. At last eleven struck from the church in the +square, and five minutes afterwards the waiter entered to announce Mrs. +Butts. I was therefore right, and she was “E. B.” +I was sure that I should not be recognised. Since I saw her last +I had grown a beard, my hair had got a little grey, and she was always +a little short-sighted. She came in, and as she entered she put +away over her bonnet her thick black veil. Not ten seconds passed +before she was seated on the opposite side of the table to that on which +I was sitting, but I re-read in her during those ten seconds the whole +history of years. I cannot say that externally she looked worn +or broken. I had imagined that I should see her undone with her +great troubles, but to some extent, and yet not altogether, I was mistaken. +The cheek-bones were more prominent than of old, and her dark-brown +hair drawn tightly over her forehead increased the clear paleness of +the face; the just perceptible tint of colour which I recollect being +now altogether withdrawn. But she was not haggard, and evidently +not vanquished. There was even a gaiety on her face, perhaps a +trifle enforced, and although the darkness of sorrow gleamed behind +it, the sorrow did not seem to be ultimate, but to be in front of a +final background, if not of joy, at least of resignation. Her +ancient levity of manner had vanished, or at most had left nothing but +a trace. I thought I detected it here and there in a line about +the mouth, and perhaps in her walk. There was a reminiscence of +it too in her clothes. Notwithstanding poverty and distress, the +old neatness - that particular care which used to charm me so when I +was little more than a child, was there still. I was always susceptible +to this virtue, and delicate hands and feet, with delicate care bestowed +thereon, were more attractive to me than slovenly beauty. I noticed +that the gloves, though mended, fitted with the same precision, and +that her dress was unwrinkled and perfectly graceful. Whatever +she might have had to endure, it had not destroyed that self-centred +satisfaction which makes life tolerable.<br> +<br> +I was impelled at once to say that I had to beg her pardon for asking +her there. Unfortunately I was obliged to go over to Cowston, +a village which was about three miles from the town. Perhaps she +would not mind walking part of the way with me through the meadows, +and then we could talk with more freedom, as I should not feel pressed +for time. To this arrangement she at once agreed, and dropping +her thick veil over her face, we went out. In a few minutes we +were clear of the houses, and I began the conversation.<br> +<br> +“Have you been in the habit of teaching?”<br> +<br> +“No. The necessity for taking to it has only lately arisen.”<br> +<br> +“What can you teach?”<br> +<br> +“Not much beyond what children of ten or eleven years old are +expected to know; but I could take charge of them entirely.”<br> +<br> +“Have you any children of your own?”<br> +<br> +“One.”<br> +<br> +“Could you take a situation as resident teacher if you have a +child?”<br> +<br> +“I must get something to do, and if I can make no arrangement +by which my child can live with me, I shall try and place her with a +friend. I may be able to hear of some appointment as a daily governess.”<br> +<br> +“I should have thought that in your native town you would have +been easily able to find employment - you must be well known?”<br> +<br> +There was a pause, and after a moment or so she said:-<br> +<br> +“We were well known once, but we went abroad and lost all our +money. My husband died abroad. When I returned, I found +that there was very little which my friends could do for me. I +am not accomplished, and there are crowds of young women who are more +capable than I am. Moreover, I saw that I was becoming a burden, +and people called on me rather as a matter of duty than for any other +reason. You don’t know how soon all but the very best insensibly +neglect very poor relatives if they are not gifted or attractive. +I do not wonder at being made to feel this, nor do I blame anybody. +My little girl is a cripple, my rooms are dull, and I have nothing in +me with which to amuse or entertain visitors. Pardon my going +into this detail. It was necessary to say something in order to +explain my position.”<br> +<br> +“May I ask what salary you will require if you live in the house?”<br> +<br> +“Five-and-thirty pounds a year, but I might take less if I were +asked to do so.”<br> +<br> +“Are you a member of the Church of England?”<br> +<br> +“No.”<br> +<br> +“To what religious body do you belong?”<br> +<br> +“I am an Independent, but I would go to Church if my employers +wished it.”<br> +<br> +“I thought the Independents objected to go to Church.”<br> +<br> +“They do; but I should not object, if I could hear anything at +the Church which would help me.”<br> +<br> +“I am rather surprised at your indifference.”<br> +<br> +“I was once more particular, but I have seen much suffering, and +some things which were important to me are not so now, and others which +were not important have become so.”<br> +<br> +I then made up a little story. My sister and I lived together. +We were about to take up our abode at Cowston, but were as yet strangers +to it. I was left a widower with two little children whom my sister +could not educate, as she could not spare the time. She would +naturally have selected the governess herself, but she was at some distance. +She would like to see Mrs. Butts before engaging her finally, but she +thought that as this advertisement presented itself, I might make some +preliminary inquiries. Perhaps, however, now that Mrs. Butts knew +the facts, she would object to living in the house. I put it in +this way, feeling sure that she would catch my meaning.<br> +<br> +“I am afraid that this situation will not suit me. I could +not go backwards and forwards so far every day.”<br> +<br> +“I understand you perfectly, and feared that this would be your +decision. But if you hesitate, I can give you the best of references. +I had not thought of that before. References of course will be +required by you as well as by me.”<br> +<br> +I put my hand in my pocket for my pocket-book, but I could not find +it. We had now reached a part of our road familiar enough to both +of us. Along that very path Ellen and I had walked years ago. +Under those very trees, on that very seat had we sat, and she and I +were there again. All the old confidences, confessions, tendernesses, +rushed upon me. What is there which is more potent than the recollection +of past love to move us to love, and knit love with closest bonds? +Can we ever cease to love the souls who have once shared all that we +know and feel? Can we ever be indifferent to those who have our +secrets, and whose secrets we hold? As I looked at her, I remembered +what she knew about me, and what I knew about her, and this simple thought +so overmastered me, that I could hold out no longer. I said to +her that if she would like to rest for one moment, I might be able to +find my papers. We sat down together, and she drew up her veil +to read the address which I was about to give her. She glanced +at me, as I thought, with a strange expression of excited interrogation, +and something swiftly passed across her face, which warned me that I +had not a moment to lose. I took out one of my own cards, handed +it to her, and said, “Here is a reference which perhaps you may +know.” She bent over it, turned to me, fixed her eyes intently +and directly on mine for one moment, and then I thought she would have +fallen. My arm was around her in an instant, her head was on my +shoulder, and my many wanderings were over. It was broad, high, +sunny noon, the most solitary hour of the daylight in those fields. +We were roused by the distant sound of the town clock striking twelve; +we rose and went on together to Cowston by the river bank, returning +late in the evening.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VIII - FLAGELLUM NON APPROQUINABIT TABERNACULO TUO<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +I suppose that the reason why in novels the story ends with a marriage +is partly that the excitement of the tale ceases then, and partly also +because of a theory that marriage is an epoch, determining the career +of life after it. The epoch once announced, nothing more need +be explained; everything else follows as a matter of course. These +notes of mine are autobiographical, and not a romance. I have +never known much about epochs. I have had one or two, one specially +when I first began to read and think; but after that, if I have changed, +it has been slowly and imperceptibly. My life, therefore, is totally +unfitted to be the basis of fiction. My return to Ellen, and our +subsequent marriage, were only partially an epoch. A change had +come, but it was one which had long been preparing. Ellen’s +experiences had altered her position, and mine too was altered. +She had been driven into religion by trouble, and knowing nothing of +criticism or philosophy, retained the old forms for her religious feeling. +But the very quickness of her emotion caused her to welcome all new +and living modes of expressing it. It is only when feeling has +ceased to accompany a creed that it becomes fixed, and verbal departures +from it are counted heresy. I too cared less for argument, and +it even gave me pleasure to talk in her dialect, so familiar to me, +but for so many years unused.<br> +<br> +It was now necessary for me to add to my income. I had nothing +upon which to depend save my newspaper, which was obviously insufficient. +At last, I succeeded in obtaining some clerical employment. For +no other work was I fit, for my training had not been special in any +one direction. My hours were long, from ten in the morning till +seven in the evening, and as I was three miles distant from the office, +I was really away from home for eleven hours every day, excepting on +Sundays. I began to calculate that my life consisted of nothing +but the brief spaces allowed to me for rest, and these brief spaces +I could not enjoy because I dwelt upon their brevity. There was +some excuse for me. Never could there be any duty incumbent upon +man much more inhuman and devoid of interest than my own. How +often I thought about my friend Clark, and his experiences became mine. +The whole day I did nothing but write, and what I wrote called forth +no single faculty of the mind. Nobody who has not tried such an +occupation can possibly forecast the strange habits, humours, fancies, +and diseases which after a time it breeds. I was shut up in a +room half below the ground. In this room were three other men +besides myself, two of them between fifty and sixty, and one about three +or four-and-twenty. All four of us kept books or copied letters +from ten to seven, with an interval of three-quarters of an hour for +dinner. In all three of these men, as in the case of Clark’s +companions, there had been developed, partly I suppose by the circumstance +of enforced idleness of brain, the most loathsome tendency to obscenity. +This was the one subject which was common ground, and upon which they +could talk. It was fostered too by a passion for beer, which was +supplied by the publican across the way, who was perpetually travelling +to and fro with cans. My horror when I first found out into what +society I was thrust was unspeakable. There was a clock within +a hundred yards of my window which struck the hours and quarters. +How I watched that clock! My spirits rose or fell with each division +of the day. From ten to twelve there was nothing but gloom. +By half-past twelve I began to discern dinner time, and the prospect +was brighter. After dinner there was nothing to be done but doggedly +to endure until five, and at five I was able to see over the distance +from five to seven. My disgust at my companions, however, came +to be mixed with pity. I found none of them cruel, and I received +many little kindnesses from them. I discovered that their trade +was largely answerable for the impurity of thought and speech which +so shocked me. Its monotony compelled some countervailing stimulus, +and as they had never been educated to care for anything in particular, +they found the necessary relief in sensuality. At first they “chaffed” +and worried me a good deal because of my silence, but at last they began +to think I was “religious,” and then they ceased to torment +me. I rather encouraged them in the belief that I had a right +to exemption from their conversation, and I passed, I believe, for a +Plymouth brother. The only thing which they could not comprehend +was that I made no attempt to convert them.<br> +<br> +The whole establishment was under the rule of a deputy-manager, who +was the terror of the place. He was tall, thin, and suffered occasionally +from spitting of blood, brought on no doubt from excitement. He +was the strangest mixture of exactitude and passion. He had complete +mastery over every detail of the business, and he never blundered. +All his work was thorough, down to the very bottom, and he had the most +intolerant hatred of everything which was loose and inaccurate. +He never passed a day without flaming out into oaths and curses against +his subordinates, and they could not say in his wildest fury that his +ravings were beside the mark. He was wrong in his treatment of +men - utterly wrong - but his facts were always correct. I never +saw anybody hated as he was, and the hatred against him was the more +intense because nobody could convict him of a mistake. He seemed +to enjoy a storm, and knew nothing whatever of the constraints which +with ordinary men prevent abusive and brutal language to those around +them. Some of his clerks suffered greatly from him, and he almost +broke down two or three from the constant nervous strain upon them produced +by fear of his explosions. For my own part, although I came in +for a full share of his temper, I at once made up my mind as soon as +I discovered what he was, not to open my lips to him except under compulsion. +My one object now was to get a living. I wished also to avoid +the self-mortification which must ensue from altercation. I dreaded, +as I have always dreaded beyond what I can tell, the chaos and wreck +which, with me, follows subjugation by anger, and I held to my resolve +under all provocation. It was very difficult, but how many times +I have blessed myself for adhesion to it. Instead of going home +undone with excitement, and trembling with fear of dismissal, I have +walked out of my dungeon having had to bite my lips till the blood came, +but still conqueror, and with peace of mind.<br> +<br> +Another stratagem of defence which I adopted at the office was never +to betray to a soul anything about myself. Nobody knew anything +about me, whether I was married or single, where I lived, or what I +thought upon a single subject of any importance. I cut off my +office life in this way from my life at home so completely that I was +two selves, and my true self was not stained by contact with my other +self. It was a comfort to me to think the moment the clock struck +seven that my second self died, and that my first self suffered nothing +by having anything to do with it. I was not the person who sat +at the desk downstairs and endured the abominable talk of his colleagues +and the ignominy of serving such a chief. I knew nothing about +him. I was a citizen walking London streets; I had my opinions +upon human beings and books; I was on equal terms with my friends; I +was Ellen’s husband; I was, in short, a man. By this scrupulous +isolation, I preserved myself, and the clerk was not debarred from the +domain of freedom.<br> +<br> +It is very terrible to think that the labour by which men are to live +should be of this order. The ideal of labour is that it should +be something in which we can take an interest and even a pride. +Immense masses of it in London are the merest slavery, and it is as +mechanical as the daily journey of the omnibus horse. There is +no possibility of relieving it, and all the ordinary copybook advice +of moralists and poets as to the temper in which we should earn our +bread is childish nonsense. If a man is a painter, or a physician, +or a barrister, or even a tradesman, well and good. The maxims +of authors may be of some service to him, and he may be able to exemplify +them; but if he is a copying clerk they are an insult, and he can do +nothing but arch his back to bear his burden and find some compensation +elsewhere. True it is, that beneficent Nature here, as always, +is helpful. Habit, after a while, mitigated much of the bitterness +of destiny. The hard points of the flint became smoothed and worn +away by perpetual tramping over them, so that they no longer wounded +with their original sharpness; and the sole of the foot was in time +provided with a merciful callosity. Then, too, there was developed +an appetite which was voracious for all that was best. Who shall +tell the revulsion on reaching home, which I should never have known +had I lived a life of idleness! Ellen was fond of hearing me read, +and with a little care I was able to select what would bear reading +- dramas, for example. She liked the reading for the reading’s +sake, and she liked to know that what I thought was communicated to +her; that she was not excluded from the sphere in which I lived. +Of the office she never heard a word, and I never would tell her anything +about it; but there was scarcely a single book in my possession which +could be read aloud, that we did not go through together in this way. +I don’t prescribe this kind of life to everybody. Some of +my best friends, I know, would find it intolerable, but it suited us. +Philosophy and religion I did not touch. It was necessary to choose +themes with varying human interest, such as the best works of fiction, +a play, or a poem; and these perhaps, on the whole, did me more good +at that time than speculation. Oh, how many times have I left +my office humiliated by some silently endured outbreak on the part of +my master, more galling because I could not put it aside as altogether +gratuitous; and in less than an hour it was two miles away, and I was +myself again. If a man wants to know what the potency of love +is, he must be a menial; he must be despised. Those who are prosperous +and courted cannot understand its power. Let him come home after +he has suffered what is far worse than hatred - the contempt of a superior, +who knows that he can afford to be contemptuous, seeing that he can +replace his slave at a moment’s notice. Let him be trained +by his tyrant to dwell upon the thought that he belongs to the vast +crowd of people in London who are unimportant; almost useless; to whom +it is a charity to offer employment; who are conscious of possessing +no gift which makes them of any value to anybody, and he will then comprehend +the divine efficacy of the affection of that woman to whom he is dear. +God’s mercy be praised ever more for it! I cannot write +poetry, but if I could, no theme would tempt me like that of love to +such a person as I was - not love, as I say again, to the hero, but +love to the Helot. Over and over again, when I have thought about +it, I have felt my poor heart swell with a kind of uncontrollable fervour. +I have often, too, said to myself that this love is no delusion. +If we were to set it down as nothing more than a merciful cheat on the +part of the Creator, however pleasant it might be, it would lose its +charm. If I were to think that my wife’s devotion to me +is nothing more than the simple expression of a necessity to love somebody, +that there is nothing in me which justifies such devotion, I should +be miserable. Rather, I take it, is the love of woman to man a +revelation of the relationship in which God stands to him - of what +<i>ought </i>to be, in fact. In the love of a woman to the man +who is of no account God has provided us with a true testimony of what +is in His own heart. I often felt this when looking at myself +and at Ellen. “What is there in me?” I have said, +“is she not the victim of some self-created deception?” +and I was wretched till I considered that in her I saw the Divine Nature +itself, and that her passion was a stream straight from the Highest. +The love of woman is, in other words, a living witness never failing +of an actuality in God which otherwise we should never know. This +led me on to connect it with Christianity; but I am getting incoherent +and must stop.<br> +<br> +My employment now was so incessant, for it was still necessary that +I should write for my newspaper - although my visits to the House of +Commons had perforce ceased - that I had no time for any schemes or +dreams such as those which had tormented me when I had more leisure. +In one respect this was a blessing. Destiny now had prescribed +for me. I was no longer agitated by ignorance of what I ought +to do. My present duty was obviously to get my own living, and +having got that, I could do little besides save continue the Sundays +with M’Kay.<br> +<br> +We were almost entirely alone. We had no means of making any friends. +We had no money, and no gifts of any kind. We were neither of +us witty nor attractive, but I have often wondered, nevertheless, what +it was which prevented us from obtaining acquaintance with persons who +thronged to houses in which I could see nothing worth a twopenny omnibus +fare. Certain it is, that we went out of our way sometimes to +induce people to call upon us whom we thought we should like; but, if +they came once or twice, they invariably dropped off, and we saw no +more of them. This behaviour was so universal that, without the +least affectation, I acknowledge there must be something repellent in +me, but what it is I cannot tell. That Ellen was the cause of +the general aversion, it is impossible to believe. The only theory +I have is, that partly owing to a constant sense of fatigue, due to +imperfect health, and partly to chafing irritation at mere gossip, although +I had no power to think of anything better, or say anything better myself, +I was avoided both by the commonplace and those who had talent. +Commonplace persons avoided me because I did not chatter, and persons +of talent because I stood for nothing. “There was nothing +in me.” We met at M’Kay’s two gentlemen whom +we thought we might invite to our house. One of them was an antiquarian. +He had discovered in an excavation in London some Roman remains. +This had led him on to the study of the position and boundaries of the +Roman city. He had become an authority upon this subject, and +had lectured upon it. He came; but as we were utterly ignorant, +and could not, with all our efforts, manifest any sympathy which he +valued at the worth of a pin, he soon departed, and departed for ever. +The second was a student of Elizabethan literature, and I rashly concluded +at once that he must be most delightful. He likewise came. +I showed him my few poor books, which he condemned, and I found that +such observations as I could make he considered as mere twaddle. +I knew nothing, or next to nothing, about the editions or the curiosities, +or the proposed emendations of obscure passages, and he, too, departed +abruptly. I began to think after he had gone that my study of +Shakespeare was mere dilettantism but I afterwards came to the conclusion +that if a man wishes to spoil himself for Shakespeare, the best thing +he can do is to turn Shakespearian critic.<br> +<br> +My worst enemy at this time was ill health, and it was more distressing +than it otherwise would have been, because I had such responsibilities +upon me. When I lived alone I knew that if anything should happen +to me it would be of no particular consequence, but now whenever I felt +sick I was anxious on account of Ellen. What would become of her +- this was the thought which kept me awake night after night when the +terrors of depression were upon me, as they often were. But still, +terrors with growing years had lost their ancient strength. My +brain and nerves were quiet compared with what they were in times gone +by, and I had gradually learned the blessed lesson which is taught by +familiarity with sorrow, that the greater part of what is dreadful in +it lies in the imagination. The true Gorgon head is seldom seen +in reality. That it exists I do not doubt, but it is not so commonly +visible as we think. Again, as we get older we find that all life +is given us on conditions of uncertainty, and yet we walk courageously +on. The labourer marries and has children, when there is nothing +but his own strength between him and ruin. A million chances are +encountered every day, and any one of the million accidents which might +happen would cripple him or kill him, and put into the workhouse those +who depend upon him. Yet he treads his path undisturbed. +Life to all of us is a narrow plank placed across a gulf, which yawns +on either side, and if we were perpetually looking down into it we should +fall. So at last, the possibility of disaster ceased to affright +me. I had been brought off safely so many times when destruction +seemed imminent, that I grew hardened, and lay down quietly at night, +although the whim of a madman might to-morrow cast me on the pavement. +Frequently, as I have said, I could not do this, but I strove to do +it, and was able to do it when in health.<br> +<br> +I tried to think about nothing which expressed whatever in the world +may be insoluble or simply tragic. A great change is just beginning +to come over us in this respect. So many books I find are written +which aim merely at new presentation of the hopeless. The contradictions +of fate, the darkness of death, the fleeting of man over this brief +stage of existence, whence we know not, and whither we know not, are +favourite subjects with writers who seem to think that they are profound, +because they can propose questions which cannot be answered. There +is really more strength of mind required for resolving the commonest +difficulty than is necessary for the production of poems on these topics. +The characteristic of so much that is said and written now is melancholy; +and it is melancholy, not because of any deeper acquaintance with the +secrets of man than that which was possessed by our forefathers, but +because it is easy to be melancholy, and the time lacks strength.<br> +<br> +As I am now setting down, without much order or connection, the lessons +which I had to learn, I may perhaps be excused if I add one or two others. +I can say of them all, that they are not book lessons. They have +been taught me by my own experience, and as a rule I have always found +that in my own most special perplexities I got but little help from +books or other persons. I had to find out for myself what was +for me the proper way of dealing with them.<br> +<br> +My love for Ellen was great, but I discovered that even such love as +this could not be left to itself. It wanted perpetual cherishing. +The lamp, if it was to burn brightly, required daily trimming, for people +became estranged and indifferent, not so much by open quarrel or serious +difference, as by the intervention of trifles which need but the smallest, +although continuous effort for their removal. The true wisdom +is to waste no time over them, but to eject them at once. Love, +too, requires that the two persons who love one another shall constantly +present to one another what is best in them, and to accomplish this, +deliberate purpose, and even struggle, are necessary. If through +relapse into idleness we do not attempt to bring soul and heart into +active communion day by day, what wonder if this once exalted relationship +become vulgar and mean?<br> +<br> +I was much overworked. It was not the work itself which was such +a trial, but the time it consumed. At best, I had but a clear +space of an hour, or an hour and a half at home, and to slave merely +for this seemed such a mockery! Day after day sped swiftly by, +made up of nothing but this infernal drudgery, and I said to myself +- Is this life? But I made up my mind that <i>never would I give +myself tongue</i>. I clapped a muzzle on my mouth. Had I +followed my own natural bent, I should have become expressive about +what I had to endure, but I found that expression reacts on him who +expresses and intensifies what is expressed. If we break out into +rhetoric over a toothache, the pangs are not the easier, but the worse +to be borne.<br> +<br> +I naturally contracted a habit of looking forward from the present moment +to one beyond. The whole week seemed to exist for the Sunday. +On Monday morning I began counting the hours till Sunday should arrive. +The consequence was, that when it came, it was not enjoyed properly, +and I wasted it in noting the swiftness of its flight. Oh, how +absurd is man! If we were to reckon up all the moments which we +really enjoy for their own sake, how few should we find them to be! +The greatest part, far the greatest part, of our lives is spent in dreaming +over the morrow, and when it comes, it, too, is consumed in the anticipation +of a brighter morrow, and so the cheat is prolonged, even to the grave. +This tendency, unconquerable though it may appear to be, can to a great +extent at any rate, be overcome by strenuous discipline. I tried +to blind myself to the future, and many and many a time, as I walked +along that dreary New Road or Old St. Pancras Road, have I striven to +compel myself not to look at the image of Hampstead Heath or Regent’s +Park, as yet six days in front of me, but to get what I could out of +what was then with me.<br> +<br> +The instinct which leads us perpetually to compare what we are with +what we might be is no doubt of enormous value, and is the spring which +prompts all action, but, like every instinct, it is the source of greatest +danger. I remember the day and the very spot on which it flashed +into me, like a sudden burst of the sun’s rays, that I had no +right to this or that - to so much happiness, or even so much virtue. +What title-deeds could I show for such a right? Straightway it +seemed as if the centre of a whole system of dissatisfaction were removed, +and as if the system collapsed. God, creating from His infinite +resources a whole infinitude of beings, had created me with a definite +position on the scale, and that position only could I claim. Cease +the trick of contrast. If I can by any means get myself to consider +myself alone without reference to others, discontent will vanish. +I walk this Old St. Pancras Road on foot - another rides. Keep +out of view him who rides and all persons riding, and I shall not complain +that I tramp in the wet. So also when I think how small and weak +I am.<br> +<br> +How foolish it is to try and cure by argument what time will cure so +completely and so gently if left to itself. As I get older, the +anxiety to prove myself right if I quarrel dies out. I hold my +tongue and time vindicates me, if it is possible to vindicate me, or +convicts me if I am wrong. Many and many a debate too which I +have had with myself alone has been settled in the same way. The +question has been put aside and has lost its importance. The ancient +Church thought, and seriously enough, no doubt, that all the vital interests +of humanity were bound up with the controversies upon the Divine nature; +but the centuries have rolled on, and who cares for those controversies +now. The problems of death and immortality once upon a time haunted +me so that I could hardly sleep for thinking about them. I cannot +tell how, but so it is, that at the present moment, when I am years +nearer the end, they trouble me but very little. If I could but +bury and let rot things which torment me and come to no settlement - +if I could always do this - what a blessing it would be.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER IX - HOLIDAYS<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +I have said that Ellen had a child by her first husband. Marie, +for that was her name, was now ten years old. She was like neither +her mother nor father, and yet was <i>shot </i>as it were with strange +gleams which reminded me of her paternal grandmother for a moment, and +then disappeared. She had rather coarse dark hair, small black +eyes, round face, and features somewhat blunt or blurred, the nose in +particular being so. She had a tendency to be stout. For +books she did not care, and it was with the greatest difficulty we taught +her to read. She was not orderly or careful about her person, +and in this respect was a sore disappointment - not that she was positively +careless, but she took no pride in dress, nor in keeping her room and +her wardrobe neat. She was fond of bright colours, which was another +trial to Ellen, who disliked any approach to gaudiness. She was +not by any means a fool, and she had a peculiarly swift mode of expressing +herself upon persons and things. A stranger looking at her would +perhaps have adjudged her inclined to sensuousness, and dull. +She was neither one nor the other. She ate little, although she +was fond of sweets. Her rather heavy face, with no clearly cut +outline in it, was not the typical face for passion; but she was capable +of passion to an extraordinary degree, and what is more remarkable, +it was not explosive passion, or rather it was not passion which she +suffered to explode. I remember once when she was a little mite +she was asked out somewhere to tea. She was dressed and ready, +but it began to rain fast, and she was told she could not go. +She besought, but it was in vain. We could not afford cabs, and +there was no omnibus. Marie, finding all her entreaties were useless, +quietly walked out of the room; and after some little time her mother, +calling her and finding she did not come, went to look for her. +She had gone into the back-yard, and was sitting there in the rain by +the side of the water-butt. She was soaked, and her best clothes +were spoiled. I must confess that I did not take very kindly to +her. I was irritated at her slowness in learning; it was, in fact, +painful to be obliged to teach her. I thought that perhaps she +might have some undeveloped taste for music, but she showed none, and +our attempts to get her to sing ordinary melodies were a failure. +She was more or less of a locked cabinet to me. I tried her with +the two or three keys which I had, but finding that none of them fitted, +I took no more pains about her.<br> +<br> +One Sunday we determined upon a holiday. It was a bold adventure +for us, but we had made up our minds. There was an excursion train +to Hastings, and accordingly Ellen, Marie, and myself were at London +Bridge Station early in the morning. It was a lovely summer’s +day in mid-July. The journey down was uncomfortable enough in +consequence of the heat and dust, but we heeded neither one nor the +other in the hope of seeing the sea. We reached Hastings at about +eleven o’clock, and strolled westwards towards Bexhill. +Our pleasure was exquisite. Who can tell, save the imprisoned +Londoner, the joy of walking on the clean sea-sand! What a delight +that was, to say nothing of the beauty of the scenery! To be free +of the litter and filth of a London suburb, of its broken hedges, its +brickbats, its torn advertisements, its worn and trampled grass in fields +half given over to the speculative builder: in place of this, to tread +the immaculate shore over which breathed a wind not charged with soot; +to replace the dull, shrouding obscurity of the smoke by a distance +so distinct that the masts of the ships whose hulls were buried below +the horizon were visible - all this was perfect bliss. It was +not very poetic bliss, perhaps; but nevertheless it is a fact that the +cleanness of the sea and the sea air was as attractive to us as any +of the sea attributes. We had a wonderful time. Only in +the country is it possible to note the change of morning into mid-day, +of mid-day into afternoon, and of afternoon into evening; and it is +only in the country, therefore, that a day seems stretched out into +its proper length. We had brought all our food with us, and sat +upon the shore in the shadow of a piece of the cliff. A row of +heavy white clouds lay along the horizon almost unchangeable and immovable, +with their summit-lines and the part of the mass just below them steeped +in sunlight. The level opaline water differed only from a floor +by a scarcely perceptible heaving motion, which broke into the faintest +of ripples at our feet. So still was the great ocean, so quietly +did everything lie in it, that the wavelets which licked the beach were +as pure and bright as if they were a part of the mid-ocean depths. +About a mile from us, at one o’clock, a long row of porpoises +appeared, showing themselves in graceful curves for half-an-hour or +so, till they went out farther to sea off Fairlight. Some fishing-boats +were becalmed just in front of us. Their shadows slept, or almost +slept, upon the water, a gentle quivering alone showing that it was +not complete sleep, or if sleep, that it was sleep with dreams. +The intensity of the sunlight sharpened the outlines of every little +piece of rock, and of the pebbles, in a manner which seemed supernatural +to us Londoners. In London we get the heat of the sun, but not +his light, and the separation of individual parts into such vivid isolation +was so surprising that even Marie noticed it, and said it “all +seemed as if she were looking through a glass.” It was perfect +- perfect in its beauty - and perfect because, from the sun in the heavens +down to the fly with burnished wings on the hot rock, there was nothing +out of harmony. Everything breathed one spirit. Marie played +near us; Ellen and I sat still, doing nothing. We wanted nothing, +we had nothing to achieve; there were no curiosities to be seen, there +was no particular place to be reached, no “plan of operations,” +and London was forgotten for the time. It lay behind us in the +north-west, and the cliff was at the back of us shutting out all thought +of it. No reminiscences and no anticipations disturbed us; the +present was sufficient, and occupied us totally.<br> +<br> +I should like, if I could, to write an essay upon the art of enjoying +a holiday. It is sad to think how few people know how to enjoy +one, although they are so precious. We do not sufficiently consider +that enjoyment of every kind is an art carefully to be learnt, and specially +the art of making the most of a brief space set apart for pleasure. +It is foolish, for example, if a man, city bred, has but twelve hours +before him, to spend more of it in eating and drinking than is necessary. +Eating and drinking produce stupidity, at least in some degree, which +may just as well be reserved for town. It is foolish also to load +the twelve hours with a task - so much to be done. The sick person +may perhaps want exercise, but to the tolerably healthy the best of +all recreation is the freedom from fetters even when they are self-imposed.<br> +<br> +Our train homewards was due at Bexhill a little after seven. By +five o’clock a change gradual but swift was observed. The +clouds which had charmed us all through the morning and afternoon were +in reality thunder-clouds, which woke up like a surprised army under +perfect discipline, and moved magnificently towards us. Already +afar off we heard the softened echoing roll of the thunder. Every +now and then we saw a sharp thrust of lightning down into the water, +and shuddered when we thought that perhaps underneath that stab there +might be a ship with living men. The battle at first was at such +a distance that we watched it with intense and solemn delight. +As yet not a breath of air stirred, but presently, over in the south-east, +a dark ruffled patch appeared on the horizon, and we agreed that it +was time to go. The indistinguishable continuous growl now became +articulated into distinct crashes. I had miscalculated the distance +to the station, and before we got there the rain, skirmishing in advance, +was upon us. We took shelter in a cottage for a moment in order +that Ellen might get a glass of water - bad-looking stuff it was, but +she was very thirsty - and put on her cloak. We then started again +on our way. We reached the station at about half-past six, before +the thunder was overhead, but not before Ellen had got wet, despite +all my efforts to protect her. She was also very hot from hurrying, +and yet there was nothing to be done but to sit in a kind of covered +shed till the train came up. The thunder and lightning were, however, +so tremendous, that we thought of nothing else. When they were +at their worst, the lightning looked like the upset of a cauldron of +white glowing metal - with such strength, breadth, and volume did it +descend. Just as the train arrived, the roar began to abate, and +in about half-an-hour it had passed over to the north, leaving behind +the rain, cold and continuous, which fell all round us from a dark, +heavy, grey sky. The carnage in which we were was a third-class, +with seats arranged parallel to the sides. It was crowded, and +we were obliged to sit in the middle, exposed to the draught which the +tobacco smoke made necessary. Some of the company were noisy, +and before we got to Red Hill became noisier, as the brandy-flasks which +had been well filled at Hastings began to work. Many were drenched, +and this was an excuse for much of the drinking; although for that matter, +any excuse or none is generally sufficient. At Red Hill we were +stopped by other trains, and before we came to Croydon we were an hour +late. We had now become intolerably weary. The songs were +disgusting, and some of the women who were with the men had also been +drinking, and behaved in a manner which it was not pleasant that Ellen +and Marie should see. The carriage was lighted fortunately by +one dim lamp only which hung in the middle, and I succeeded at last +in getting seats at the further end, where there was a knot of more +decent persons who had huddled up there away from the others. +All the glory of the morning was forgotten. Instead of three happy, +exalted creatures, we were three dejected, shivering mortals, half poisoned +with foul air and the smell of spirits. We crawled up to London +Bridge at the slowest pace, and, finally, the railway company discharged +us on the platform at ten minutes past eleven. Not a place in +any omnibus could be secured, and we therefore walked for a mile or +so till I saw a cab, which - unheard-of expense for me - I engaged, +and we were landed at our own house exactly at half-past twelve. +The first thing to be done was to get Marie to bed. She was instantly +asleep, and was none the worse for her journey. With Ellen the +case was different. She could not sleep, and the next morning +was feverish. She insisted that it was nothing more than a bad +cold, and would on no account permit me even to give her any medicine. +She would get up presently, and she and Marie could get on well enough +together. But when I reached home on Monday evening, Ellen was +worse, and was still in bed.<br> +<br> +I sent at once for the doctor, who would give no opinion for a day or +two, but meanwhile directed that she was to remain where she was, and +take nothing but the lightest food. Tuesday night passed, and +the fever still increased. I had become very anxious, but I dared +not stay with her, for I knew not what might happen if I were absent +from my work. I was obliged to try and think of somebody who would +come and help us. Our friend Taylor, who once was the coal-porter +at Somerset House, came into my mind. He, as I have said when +talking about him, was married, but had no children. To him accordingly +I went. I never shall forget the alacrity with which he prompted +his wife to go, and with which she consented. I was shut up in +my own sufferings, but I remember a flash of joy that all our efforts +in our room had not been in vain. I was delighted that I had secured +assistance, but I do believe the uppermost thought was delight that +we had been able to develop gratitude and affection. Mrs. Taylor +was an “ordinary woman.” She was about fifty, rather +stout, and entirely uneducated. But when she took charge at our +house, all her best qualities found expression. It is true enough, +<i>omnium consensu capax imperii nisi imperasset</i>, but it is equally +true that under the pressure of trial and responsibility we are often +stronger than when there is no pressure. Many a man will acknowledge +that in difficulty he has surprised himself by a resource and coolness +which he never suspected before. Mrs. Taylor I always thought +to be rather weak and untrustworthy, but I found that when <i>weight +</i>was placed upon her, she was steady as a rock, a systematic and +a perfect manager. There was no doubt in a very short time as +to the nature of the disease. It was typhoid fever, the cause +probably being the impure water drunk as we were coming home. +I have no mind to describe what Ellen suffered. Suffice it to +say, that her treatment was soon reduced to watching her every minute +night and day, and administering small quantities of milk. Her +prostration and emaciation were excessive, and without the most constant +attention she might at any moment have slipped out of our hands. +I was like a man shipwrecked and alone in a polar country, whose existence +depends upon one spark of fire, which he tries to cherish, left glimmering +in a handful of ashes. Oh those days, prolonged to weeks, during +which that dreadful struggle lasted - days swallowed up with one sole, +intense, hungry desire that her life might be spared! - days filled +with a forecast of the blackness and despair before me if she should +depart. I tried to obtain release from the office. The answer +was that nobody could of course prevent my being away, but that it was +not usual for a clerk to be absent merely because his wife was not well. +The brute added with a sneer that a wife was “a luxury” +which he should have thought I could hardly afford. We divided +between us, however, at home the twenty-four hours during which we stood +sentinels against death, and occasionally we were relieved by one or +two friends. I went on duty from about eight in the evening till +one in the morning, and was then relieved by Mrs. Taylor, who remained +till ten or eleven. She then went to bed, and was replaced by +little Marie. What a change came over that child! I was +amazed at her. All at once she seemed to have found what she was +born to do. The key had been discovered, which unlocked and revealed +what there was in her, of which hitherto I had been altogether unaware. +Although she was so little, she became a perfect nurse. Her levity +disappeared; she was grave as a matron, moved about as if shod in felt, +never forgot a single direction, and gave proper and womanly answers +to strangers who called. Faculties unsuspected grew almost to +full height in a single day. Never did she relax during the whole +of that dreadful time, or show the slightest sign of discontent. +She sat by her mother’s side, intent, vigilant; and she had her +little dinner prepared and taken up into the sickroom by Mrs. Taylor +before she went to bed. I remember once going to her cot in the +night, as she lay asleep, and almost breaking my heart over her with +remorse and thankfulness - remorse, that I, with blundering stupidity, +had judged her so superficially; and thankfulness, that it had pleased +God to present to me so much of His own divinest grace. Fool that +I was, not to be aware that messages from Him are not to be read through +the envelope in which they are enclosed. I never should have believed, +if it had not been for Marie, that any grown-up man could so love a +child. Such love, I should have said, was only possible between +man and woman, or, perhaps, between man and man. But now I doubt +whether a love of that particular kind could be felt towards any grown-up +human being, love so pure, so imperious, so awful. My love to +Marie was love of God Himself as He is - an unrestrained adoration of +an efflux from Him, adoration transfigured into love, because the revelation +had clothed itself with a child’s form. It was, as I say, +the love of God as He is. It was not necessary, as it so often +is necessary, to qualify, to subtract, to consider the other side, to +deplore the obscurity or the earthly contamination with which the Word +is delivered to us. This was the Word itself, without even consciousness +on the part of the instrument selected for its vocalisation. I +may appear extravagant, but I can only put down what I felt and still +feel. I appeal, moreover, to Jesus Himself for justification. +I had seen the kingdom of God through a little child. I, in fact, +have done nothing more than beat out over a page in my own words what +passed through His mind when He called a little child and set him in +the midst of His disciples. How I see the meaning of those words +now! and so it is that a text will be with us for half a lifetime, recognised +as great and good, but not penetrated till the experience comes round +to us in which it was born.<br> +<br> +Six weeks passed before the faint blue point of light which flickered +on the wick began to turn white and show some strength. At last, +however, day by day, we marked a slight accession of vitality which +increased with change of diet. Every evening when I came home +I was gladdened by the tidings which showed advance, and Ellen, I believe, +was as much pleased to see how others rejoiced over her recovery as +she was pleased for her own sake. She, too, was one of those creatures +who always generously admit improvement. For my own part, I have +often noticed that when I have been ill, and have been getting better, +I have refused to acknowledge it, and that it has been an effort to +me to say that things were not at their worst. She, however, had +none of this niggardly baseness, and always, if only for the sake of +her friends, took the cheerful side. Mrs. Taylor now left us. +She left us a friend whose friendship will last, I hope, as long as +life lasts. She had seen all our troubles and our poverty: we +knew that she knew all about us: she had helped us with the most precious +help - what more was there necessary to knit her to us? - and it is +worth noting that the assistance which she rendered, and her noble self-sacrifice, +so far from putting us, in her opinion, in her debt, only seemed to +her a reason why she should be more deeply attached to us.<br> +<br> +It was late in the autumn before Ellen had thoroughly recovered, but +at last we said that she was as strong as she was before, and we determined +to celebrate our deliverance by one more holiday before the cold weather +came. It was again Sunday - a perfectly still, warm, autumnal +day, with a high barometer and the gentlest of airs from the west. +The morning in London was foggy, so much so that we doubted at first +whether we should go; but my long experience of London fog told me that +we should escape from it with that wind if we got to the chalk downs +away out by Letherhead and Guildford. We took the early train +to a point at the base of the hills, and wound our way up into the woods +at the top. We were beyond the smoke, which rested like a low +black cloud over the city in the north-east, reaching a third of the +way up to the zenith. The beech had changed colour, and glowed +with reddish-brown fire. We sat down on a floor made of the leaves +of last year. At mid-day the stillness was profound, broken only +by the softest of whispers descending from the great trees which spread +over us their protecting arms. Every now and then it died down +almost to nothing, and then slowly swelled and died again, as if the +Gods of the place were engaged in divine and harmonious talk. +By moving a little towards the external edge of our canopy we beheld +the plain all spread out before us, bounded by the heights of Sussex +and Hampshire. It was veiled with the most tender blue, and above +it was spread a sky which was white on the horizon and deepened by degrees +into azure over our heads. The exhilaration of the air satisfied +Marie, although she had no playmate, and there was nothing special with +which she could amuse herself. She wandered about looking for +flowers and ferns, and was content. We were all completely happy. +We strained our eyes to see the furthest point before us, and we tried +to find it on the map we had brought with us. The season of the +year, which is usually supposed to make men pensive, had no such effect +upon us. Everything in the future, even the winter in London, +was painted by Hope, and the death of the summer brought no sadness. +Rather did summer dying in such fashion fill our hearts with repose, +and even more than repose - with actual joy.<br> +<br> +<br> +Here ends the autobiography. A month after this last holiday my +friend was dead and buried. He had unsuspected disease of the +heart, and one day his master, of whom we have heard something, was +more than usually violent. Mark, as his custom was, was silent, +but evidently greatly excited. His tyrant left the room; and in +a few minutes afterwards Mark was seen to turn white and fall forward +in his chair. It was all over! His body was taken to a hospital +and thence sent home. The next morning his salary up to the day +of his death came in an envelope to his widow, without a single word +from his employers save a request for acknowledgment. Towards +mid-day, his office coat, and a book found in his drawer, arrived in +a brown paper parcel, carriage unpaid.<br> +<br> +On looking over his papers, I found the sketch of his life and a mass +of odds and ends, some apparently written for publication. Many +of these had evidently been in envelopes, and had most likely, therefore, +been offered to editors or publishers, but all, I am sure, had been +refused. I add one or two by way of appendix, and hope they will +be thought worth saving.<br> +<br> +R. S.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Footnotes:<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> This was +written many years ago, but is curiously pertinent to the discussions +of this year. - EDITOR, 1884.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a> Not exactly +untrue, but it sounds strangely now when socialism, nationalisation +of the land, and other projects have renewed in men the hope of regeneration +by political processes. 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