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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1b5b26 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69825 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69825) diff --git a/old/69825-0.txt b/old/69825-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ce9d897..0000000 --- a/old/69825-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1670 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of An apology for idlers and other -essays, by Robert Louis Stevenson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: An apology for idlers and other essays - -Author: Robert Louis Stevenson - -Release Date: January 18, 2023 [eBook #69825] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - available at The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS AND -OTHER ESSAYS *** - - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - - AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS - - [Illustration] - - - - - ROBERT LOUIS - STEVENSON - - AN - APOLOGY FOR IDLERS - AND OTHER ESSAYS - - [Illustration] - - PORTLAND MAINE - THOMAS B MOSHER - MDCCCCXVI - - - FIRST EDITION, OCTOBER, 1905 - SECOND EDITION, SEPTEMBER, 1908 - THIRD EDITION, SEPTEMBER, 1916 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS 9 - -EL DORADO 35 - -THE ENGLISH ADMIRALS 45 - -CHILD’S PLAY 77 - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS - - -Just now, when every one is bound, under pain of a decree in absence -convicting them of _lèse_-respectability, to enter on some lucrative -profession, and labour therein with something not far short of -enthusiasm, a cry from the opposite party who are content when they have -enough, and like to look on and enjoy in the meanwhile, savours a little -of bravado and gasconade. And yet this should not be. Idleness so -called, which does not consist in doing nothing, but in doing a great -deal not recognised in the dogmatic formularies of the ruling class, has -as good a right to state its position as industry itself. It is admitted -that the presence of people who refuse to enter in the great handicap -race for sixpenny pieces, is at once an insult and a disenchantment for -those who do. A fine fellow (as we see so many) takes his -determination, votes for the sixpences, and in the emphatic Americanism, -“goes for” them. And while such an one is ploughing distressfully up the -road, it is not hard to understand his resentment, when he perceives -cool persons in the meadows by the wayside, lying with a handkerchief -over their ears and a glass at their elbow. Alexander is touched in a -very delicate place by the disregard of Diogenes. Where was the glory of -having taken Rome for these tumultuous barbarians, who poured into the -Senate house, and found the Fathers sitting silent and unmoved by their -success? It is a sore thing to have laboured along and scaled the -arduous hilltops, and when all is done, find humanity indifferent to -your achievement. Hence physicists condemn the unphysical; financiers -have only a superficial toleration for those who know little of stocks; -literary persons despise the unlettered; and people of all pursuits -combine to disparage those who have none. - -But though this is one difficulty of the subject, it is not the -greatest. You could not be put in prison for speaking against industry, -but you can be sent to Coventry for speaking like a fool. The greatest -difficulty with most subjects is to do them well; therefore, please to -remember this is an apology. It is certain that much may be judiciously -argued in favour of diligence; only there is something to be said -against it, and that is what, on the present occasion, I have to say. To -state one argument is not necessarily to be deaf to all others, and that -a man has written a book of travels in Montenegro, is no reason why he -should never have been to Richmond. - -It is surely beyond a doubt that people should be a good deal idle in -youth. For though here and there a Lord Macaulay may escape from school -honours with all his wits about him, most boys pay so dear for their -medals that they never afterwards have a shot in their locker, and begin -the world bankrupt. And the same holds true during all the time a lad is -educating himself, or suffering others to educate him. It must have been -a very foolish old gentleman who addressed Johnson at Oxford in these -words: “Young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of -knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will find that poring upon -books will be but an irksome task.” The old gentleman seems to have been -unaware that many other things besides reading grow irksome, and not a -few become impossible, by the time a man has to use spectacles and -cannot walk without a stick. Books are good enough in their own way, but -they are a mighty bloodless substitute for life. It seems a pity to sit, -like the Lady of Shalott, peering into a mirror, with your back turned -on all the bustle and glamour of reality. And if a man reads very hard, -as the old anecdote reminds us, he will have little time for thought. - -If you look back on your own education, I am sure it will not be the -full, vivid, instructive hours of truantry that you regret; you would -rather cancel some lacklustre periods between sleep and waking in the -class. For my own part, I have attended a good many lectures in my time. -I still remember that the spinning of a top is a case of Kinetic -Stability. I still remember that Emphyteusis is not a disease, nor -Stillicide a crime. But though I would not willingly part with such -scraps of science, I do not set the same store by them as by certain -other odds and ends that I came by in the open street while I was -playing truant. This is not the moment to dilate on that mighty place -of education, which was the favourite school of Dickens and of Balzac, -and turns out yearly many inglorious masters in the Science of the -Aspects of Life. Suffice it to say this: if a lad does not learn in the -streets, it is because he has no faculty of learning. Nor is the truant -always in the streets, for if he prefers, he may go out by the gardened -suburbs into the country. He may pitch on some tuft of lilacs over a -burn, and smoke innumerable pipes to the tune of the water on the -stones. A bird will sing in the thicket. And there he may fall into a -vein of kindly thought, and see things in a new perspective. Why, if -this be not education, what is? We may conceive Mr. Worldly Wiseman -accosting such an one, and the conversation that should thereupon ensue: - -“How now, young fellow, what dost thou here?” - -“Truly, sir, I take mine ease.” - -“Is not this the hour of the class? and should’st thou not be plying thy -Book with diligence, to the end thou mayest obtain knowledge?” - -“Nay, but thus also I follow after Learning, by your leave.” - -“Learning, quotha! After what fashion, I pray thee? Is it mathematics?” - -“No, to be sure.” - -“Is it metaphysics?” - -“Nor that.” - -“Is it some language?” - -“Nay, it is no language.” - -“Is it a trade?” - -“Nor a trade neither.” - -“Why, then, what is’t?” - -“Indeed, sir, as a time may soon come for me to go upon Pilgrimage, I am -desirous to note what is commonly done by persons in my case, and where -are the ugliest Sloughs and Thickets on the Road; as also, what manner -of Staff is of the best service. Moreover, I lie here, by this water, to -learn by root-of-heart a lesson which my master teaches me to call -Peace, or Contentment.” - -Hereupon Mr. Worldly Wiseman was much commoved with passion, and shaking -his cane with a very threatful countenance, broke forth upon this wise: -“Learning, quotha!” said he; “I would have all such rogues scourged by -the Hangman!” - -And so he would go his way, ruffling out his cravat with a crackle of -starch, like a turkey when it spreads its feathers. - -Now this, of Mr. Wiseman’s, is the common opinion. A fact is not called -a fact, but a piece of gossip, if it does not fall into one of your -scholastic categories. An inquiry must be in some acknowledged -direction, with a name to go by; or else you are not inquiring at all, -only lounging; and the workhouse is too good for you. It is supposed -that all knowledge is at the bottom of a well, or the far end of a -telescope. Sainte-Beuve, as he grew older, came to regard all experience -as a single great book, in which to study for a few years ere we go -hence; and it seemed all one to him whether you should read in Chapter -xx, which is the differential calculus, or in Chapter xxxix, which is -hearing the band play in the gardens. As a matter of fact, an -intelligent person, looking out of his eyes and hearkening in his ears, -with a smile on his face all the time, will get more true education than -many another in a life of heroic vigils. There is certainly some chill -and arid knowledge to be found upon the summits of formal and laborious -science; but it is all round about you, and for the trouble of looking, -that you will acquire the warm and palpitating facts of life. While -others are filling their memory with a lumber of words, one-half of -which they will forget before the week be out, your truant may learn -some really useful art: to play the fiddle, to know a good cigar, or to -speak with ease and opportunity to all varieties of men. Many who have -“plied their book diligently,” and know all about some one branch or -another of accepted lore, come out of the study with an ancient and -owl-like demeanour, and prove dry, stockish, and dyspeptic in all the -better and brighter parts of life. Many make a large fortune, who remain -underbred and pathetically stupid to the last. And meantime there goes -the idler, who began life along with them--by your leave, a different -picture. He has had time to take care of his health and his spirits; he -has been a great deal in the open air, which is the most salutary of all -things for both body and mind; and if he has never read the great Book -in very recondite places, he has dipped into it and skimmed it over to -excellent purpose. Might not the student afford some Hebrew roots, and -the business man some of his half-crowns, for a share of the idler’s -knowledge of life at large, and Art of Living? Nay, and the idler has -another and more important quality than these. I mean his wisdom. He who -has much looked on at the childish satisfaction of other people in their -hobbies, will regard his own with only a very ironical indulgence. He -will not be heard among the dogmatists. He will have a great and cool -allowance for all sorts of people and opinions. If he finds no -out-of-the-way truths, he will identify himself with no very burning -falsehood. His way takes him along a by-road, not much frequented, but -very even and pleasant, which is called Commonplace Lane, and leads to -the Belvedere of Commonsense. Thence he shall command an agreeable, if -no very noble prospect; and while others behold the East and West, the -Devil and the Sunrise, he will be contentedly aware of a sort of morning -hour upon all sublunary things, with an army of shadows running speedily -and in many different directions into the great daylight of Eternity. -The shadows and the generations, the shrill doctors and the plangent -wars, go by into ultimate silence and emptiness; but underneath all -this, a man may see, out of the Belvedere windows, much green and -peaceful landscape; many fire-lit parlours; good people laughing, -drinking, and making love as they did before the Flood or the French -Revolution; and the old shepherd telling his tale under the hawthorn. - -Extreme _busyness_, whether at school or college, kirk or market, is a -symptom of deficient vitality; and a faculty for idleness implies a -catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal identity. There is a -sort of dead-alive, hackneyed people about, who are scarcely conscious -of living except in the exercise of some conventional occupation. Bring -these fellows into the country, or set them aboard ship, and you will -see how they pine for their desk or their study. They have no curiosity; -they cannot give themselves over to random provocations; they do not -take pleasure in the exercise of their faculties for its own sake; and -unless Necessity lays about them with a stick, they will even stand -still. It is no good speaking to such folk: they _cannot_ be idle, their -nature is not generous enough; and they pass those hours in a sort of -coma, which are not dedicated to furious moiling in the gold-mill. When -they do not require to go to the office, when they are not hungry and -have no mind to drink, the whole breathing world is a blank to them. If -they have to wait an hour or so for a train, they fall into a stupid -trance with their eyes open. To see them, you would suppose there was -nothing to look at and no one to speak with; you would imagine they were -paralysed or alienated; and yet very possibly they are hard workers in -their own way, and have good eyesight for a flaw in a deed or a turn of -the market. They have been to school and college, but all the time they -had their eye on the medal; they have gone about in the world and mixed -with clever people, but all the time they were thinking of their own -affairs. As if a man’s soul were not too small to begin with, they have -dwarfed and narrowed theirs by a life of all work and no play; until -here they are at forty, with a listless attention, a mind vacant of all -material of amusement, and not one thought to rub against another, while -they wait for the train. Before he was breeched, he might have clambered -on the boxes; when he was twenty, he would have stared at the girls; -but now the pipe is smoked out, the snuff-box empty, and my gentleman -sits bolt upright upon a bench, with lamentable eyes. This does not -appeal to me as being Success in Life. - -But it is not only the person himself who suffers from his busy habits, -but his wife and children, his friends and relations, and down to the -very people he sits with in a railway carriage or an omnibus. Perpetual -devotion to what a man calls his business, is only to be sustained by -perpetual neglect of many other things. And it is not by any means -certain that a man’s business is the most important thing he has to do. -To an impartial estimate it will seem clear that many of the wisest, -most virtuous, and most beneficent parts that are to be played upon the -Theatre of Life are filled by gratuitous performers, and pass, among the -world at large, as phases of idleness. For in that Theatre, not only -the walking gentlemen, singing chambermaids and diligent fiddlers in the -orchestra, but those who look on and clap their hands from the benches, -do really play a part and fulfil important offices towards the general -result. You are no doubt very dependent on the care of your lawyer and -stockbroker, of the guards and signalmen who convey you rapidly from -place to place, and the policemen who walk the streets for your -protection; but is there not a thought of gratitude in your heart for -certain other benefactors who set you smiling when they fall in your -way, or season your dinner with good company? Colonel Newcome helped to -lose his friend’s money; Fred Bayham had an ugly trick of borrowing -shirts; and yet they were better people to fall among than Mr. Barnes. -And though Falstaff was neither sober nor very honest, I think I could -name one or two long-faced Barabbases whom the world could better have -done without. Hazlitt mentions that he was more sensible of obligation -to Northcote, who had never done him anything he could call a service, -than to his whole circle of ostentatious friends; for he thought a good -companion emphatically the greatest benefactor. I know there are people -in the world who cannot feel grateful unless the favour has been done -them at the cost of pain and difficulty. But this is a churlish -disposition. A man may send you six sheets of letter-paper covered with -the most entertaining gossip, or you may pass half an hour pleasantly, -perhaps profitably, over an article of his; do you think the service -would be greater, if he had made the manuscript in his heart’s blood, -like a compact with the devil? Do you really fancy you should be more -beholden to your correspondent, if he had been damning you all the while -for your importunity? Pleasures are more beneficial than duties because, -like the quality of mercy, they are not strained, and they are twice -blest. There must always be two to a kiss, and there may be a score in a -jest; but wherever there is an element of sacrifice, the favour is -conferred with pain, and, among generous people, received with -confusion. There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being -happy. By being happy, we sow anonymous benefits upon the world, which -remain unknown even to ourselves, or when they are disclosed, surprise -nobody so much as the benefactor. The other day, a ragged, barefoot boy -ran down the street after a marble, with so jolly an air that he set -every one he passed into a good humour; one of these persons, who had -been delivered from more than usually black thoughts, stopped the -little fellow and gave him some money with this remark: “You see what -sometimes comes of looking pleased.” If he had looked pleased before, he -had now to look both pleased and mystified. For my part, I justify this -encouragement of smiling rather than tearful children; I do not wish to -pay for tears anywhere but upon the stage; but I am prepared to deal -largely in the opposite commodity. A happy man or woman is a better -thing to find than a five-pound note. He or she is a radiating focus of -goodwill; and their entrance into a room is as though another candle had -been lighted. We need not care whether they could prove the -forty-seventh proposition; they do a better thing than that, they -practically demonstrate the great Theorem of the Liveableness of Life. -Consequently, if a person cannot be happy without remaining idle, idle -he should remain. It is a revolutionary precept; but thanks to hunger -and the workhouse, one not easily to be abused; and within practical -limits, it is one of the most incontestable truths in the whole Body of -Morality. Look at one of your industrious fellows for a moment, I -beseech you. He sows hurry and reaps indigestion; he puts a vast deal of -activity out to interest, and receives a large measure of nervous -derangement in return. Either he absents himself entirely from all -fellowship, and lives a recluse in a garret, with carpet slippers and a -leaden inkpot; or he comes among people swiftly and bitterly, in a -contraction of his whole nervous system, to discharge some temper before -he returns to work. I do not care how much or how well he works, this -fellow is an evil feature in other people’s lives. They would be happier -if he were dead. They could easier do without his services in the -Circumlocution Office, than they can tolerate his fractious spirits. He -poisons life at the well-head. It is better to be beggared out of hand -by a scapegrace nephew, than daily hag-ridden by a peevish uncle. - -And what, in God’s name, is all this pother about? For what cause do -they embitter their own and other people’s lives? That a man should -publish three or thirty articles a year, that he should finish or not -finish his great allegorical picture, are questions of little interest -to the world. The ranks of life are full; and although a thousand fall, -there are always some to go into the breach. When they told Joan of Arc -she should be at home minding women’s work, she answered there were -plenty to spin and wash. And so, even with your own rare gifts! When -nature is “so careless of the single life,” why should we coddle -ourselves into the fancy that our own is of exceptional importance? -Suppose Shakespeare had been knocked on the head some dark night in Sir -Thomas Lucy’s preserves, the world would have wagged on better or worse, -the pitcher gone to the well, the scythe to the corn, and the student to -his book; and no one been any the wiser of the loss. There are not many -works extant, if you look the alternative all over, which are worth the -price of a pound of tobacco to a man of limited means. This is a -sobering reflection for the proudest of our earthly vanities. Even a -tobacconist may, upon consideration, find no great cause for personal -vainglory in the phrase; for although tobacco is an admirable sedative, -the qualities necessary for retailing it are neither rare nor precious -in themselves. Alas and alas! you may take it how you will, but the -services of no single individual are indispensable. Atlas was just a -gentleman with a protracted nightmare! And yet you see merchants who go -and labour themselves into a great fortune and thence into the -bankruptcy court; scribblers who keep scribbling at little articles -until their temper is a cross to all who come about them, as though -Pharaoh should set the Israelites to make a pin instead of a pyramid; -and fine young men who work themselves into a decline, and are driven -off in a hearse with white plumes upon it. Would you not suppose these -persons had been whispered, by the Master of the Ceremonies, the promise -of some momentous destiny? and that this lukewarm bullet on which they -play their farces was the bull’s-eye and centrepoint of all the -universe? And yet it is not so. The ends for which they give away their -priceless youth, for all they know, may be chimerical or hurtful; the -glory and riches they expect may never come, or may find them -indifferent; and they and the world they inhabit are so inconsiderable -that the mind freezes at the thought. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -EL DORADO - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -EL DORADO - - -It seems as if a great deal were attainable in a world where there are -so many marriages and decisive battles, and where we all, at certain -hours of the day, and with great gusto and despatch, stow a portion of -victuals finally and irretrievably into the bag which contains us. And -it would seem also, on a hasty view, that the attainment of as much as -possible was the one goal of man’s contentious life. And yet, as regards -the spirit, this is but a semblance. We live in an ascending scale when -we live happily, one thing leading to another in an endless series. -There is always a new horizon for onward-looking men, and although we -dwell on a small planet, immersed in petty business and not enduring -beyond a brief period of years, we are so constituted that our hopes -are inaccessible, like stars, and the term of hoping is prolonged until -the term of life. To be truly happy is a question of how we begin and -not of how we end, of what we want and not of what we have. An -aspiration is a joy forever, a possession as solid as a landed estate, a -fortune which we can never exhaust and which gives us year by year a -revenue of pleasurable activity. To have many of these is to be -spiritually rich. Life is only a very dull and ill-directed theatre -unless we have some interests in the piece; and to those who have -neither art nor science, the world is a mere arrangement of colours, or -a rough footway where they may very well break their shins. It is in -virtue of his own desires and curiosities that any man continues to -exist with even patience, that he is charmed by the look of things and -people, and that he wakens every morning with a renewed appetite for -work and pleasure. Desire and curiosity are the two eyes through which -he sees the world in the most enchanted colours: it is they that make -women beautiful or fossils interesting: and the man may squander his -estate and come to beggary, but if he keeps these two amulets he is -still rich in the possibilities of pleasure. Suppose he could take one -meal so compact and comprehensive that he should never hunger any more; -suppose him, at a glance, to take in all the features of the world and -allay the desire for knowledge; suppose him to do the like in any -province of experience--would not that man be in a poor way for -amusement ever after? - -One who goes touring on foot with a single volume in his knapsack reads -with circumspection, pausing often to reflect, and often laying the book -down to contemplate the landscape or the prints in the inn parlour; for -he fears to come to an end of his entertainment, and be left -companionless on the last stages of his journey. A young fellow recently -finished the works of Thomas Carlyle, winding up, if we remember aright, -with the ten notebooks upon Frederick the Great. “What!” cried the young -fellow, in consternation, “is there no more Carlyle? Am I left to the -daily papers?” A more celebrated instance is that of Alexander, who wept -bitterly because he had no more worlds to subdue. And when Gibbon had -finished the _Decline and Fall_, he had only a few moments of joy; and -it was with a “sober melancholy” that he parted from his labours. - -Happily we all shoot at the moon with ineffectual arrows; our hopes are -set on inaccessible El Dorado; we come to an end of nothing here below. -Interests are only plucked up to sow themselves again, like mustard. -You would think, when the child was born, there would be an end to -trouble; and yet it is only the beginning of fresh anxieties; and when -you have seen it through its teething and its education, and at last its -marriage, alas! it is only to have new fears, new quivering -sensibilities, with every day; and the health of your children’s -children grows as touching a concern as that of your own. Again, when -you have married your wife, you would think you were got upon a hilltop, -and might begin to go downward by an easy slope. But you have only ended -courting to begin marriage. Falling in love and winning love are often -difficult tasks to overbearing and rebellious spirits; but to keep in -love is also a business of some importance, to which both man and wife -must bring kindness and goodwill. The true love story commences at the -altar, when there lies before the married pair a most beautiful contest -of wisdom and generosity, and a life-long struggle towards an -unattainable ideal. Unattainable? Ay, surely unattainable, from the very -fact that they are two instead of one. - -“Of making books there is no end,” complained the Preacher; and did not -perceive how highly he was praising letters as an occupation. There is -no end, indeed, to making books or experiments, or to travel, or to -gathering wealth. Problem gives rise to problem. We may study forever, -and we are never as learned as we would. We have never made a statue -worthy of our dreams. And when we have discovered a continent, or -crossed a chain of mountains, it is only to find another ocean or -another plain upon the further side. In the infinite universe there is -room for our swiftest diligence and to spare. It is not like the works -of Carlyle, which can be read to an end. Even in a corner of it, in a -private park, or in the neighbourhood of a single hamlet, the weather -and the seasons keep so deftly changing that although we walk there for -a lifetime there will be always something new to startle and delight us. - -There is only one wish realisable on the earth; only one thing that can -be perfectly attained: Death. And from a variety of circumstances we -have no one to tell us whether it be worth attaining. - -A strange picture we make on our way to our chimæras, ceaselessly -marching, grudging ourselves the time for rest; indefatigable, -adventurous pioneers. It is true that we shall never reach the goal; it -is even more than probable that there is no such place; and if we lived -for centuries and were endowed with the powers of a god, we should find -ourselves not much nearer what we wanted at the end. O toiling hands of -mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know not whither! Soon, soon, -it seems to you, you must come forth on some conspicuous hilltop, and -but a little way further, against the setting sun, descry the spires of -El Dorado. Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel -hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to -labour. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -THE ENGLISH ADMIRALS - -[Illustration] - - - - “Whether it be wise in men to - do such actions or no, I am sure it - is so in States to honour them.” - SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE - - - - -[Illustration] - -THE ENGLISH ADMIRALS - - -There is one story of the wars of Rome which I have always very much -envied for England. Germanicus was going down at the head of the legions -into a dangerous river--on the opposite bank the woods were full of -Germans--when there flew out seven great eagles which seemed to marshal -the Romans on their way; they did not pause or waver, but disappeared -into the forest where the enemy lay concealed. “Forward!” cried -Germanicus, with a fine rhetorical inspiration, “Forward! and follow the -Roman birds.” It would be a very heavy spirit that did not give a leap -at such a signal, and a very timorous one that continued to have any -doubt of success. To appropriate the eagles as fellow-countrymen was to -make imaginary allies of the forces of nature; the Roman Empire and its -military fortunes, and along with these the prospects of those -individual Roman legionaries now fording a river in Germany, looked -altogether greater and more hopeful. It is a kind of illusion easy to -produce. A particular shape of cloud, the appearance of a particular -star, the holiday of some particular saint, anything in short to remind -the combatants of patriotic legends or old successes, may be enough to -change the issue of a pitched battle; for it gives to the one party a -feeling that Right and the larger interests are with them. - -If an Englishman wishes to have such a feeling, it must be about the -sea. The lion is nothing to us; he has not been taken to the hearts of -the people, and naturalised as an English emblem. We know right well -that a lion would fall foul of us as grimly as he would of a Frenchman -or a Moldavian Jew, and we do not carry him before us in the smoke of -battle. But the sea is our approach and bulwark; it has been the scene -of our greatest triumphs and dangers; and we are accustomed in lyrical -strains to claim it as our own. The prostrating experiences of -foreigners between Calais and Dover have always an agreeable side to -English prepossessions. A man from Bedfordshire, who does not know one -end of the ship from the other until she begins to move, swaggers among -such persons with a sense of hereditary nautical experience. To suppose -yourself endowed with natural parts for the sea because you are the -countryman of Blake and mighty Nelson, is perhaps just as unwarrantable -as to imagine Scotch extraction a sufficient guarantee that you will -look well in a kilt. But the feeling is there, and seated beyond the -reach of argument. We should consider ourselves unworthy of our descent -if we did not share the arrogance of our progenitors, and please -ourselves with the pretension that the sea is English. Even where it is -looked upon by the guns and battlements of another nation we regard it -as a kind of English cemetery, where the bones of our seafaring fathers -take their rest until the last trumpet; for I suppose no other nation -has lost as many ships, or sent as many brave fellows to the bottom. - -There is nowhere such a background for heroism as the noble, terrifying, -and picturesque conditions of some of our sea fights. Hawke’s battle in -the tempest, and Aboukir at the moment when the French Admiral blew up, -reach the limit of what is imposing to the imagination. And our naval -annals owe some of their interest to the fantastic and beautiful -appearance of old warships and the romance that invests the sea and -everything sea-going in the eyes of English lads on a half-holiday at -the coast. Nay, and what we know of the misery between decks enhances -the bravery of what was done by giving it something for contrast. We -like to know that these bold and honest fellows contrived to live, and -to keep bold and honest, among absurd and vile surroundings. No reader -can forget the description of the _Thunder_ in _Roderick Random_: the -disorderly tyranny; the cruelty and dirt of officers and men; deck after -deck, each with some new object of offence; the hospital, where the -hammocks were huddled together with but fourteen inches space for each; -the cockpit, far under water, where, “in an intolerable stench,” the -spectacled steward kept the accounts of the different messes; and the -canvas enclosure, six feet square, in which Morgan made flip and -salmagundi, smoked his pipe, sang his Welsh songs, and swore his queer -Welsh imprecations. There are portions of this business on board the -_Thunder_ over which the reader passes lightly and hurriedly, like a -traveller in a malarious country. It is easy enough to understand the -opinion of Dr. Johnson: “Why, sir,” he said, “no man will be a sailor -who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail.” You would fancy -any one’s spirit would die out under such an accumulation of darkness, -noisomeness, and injustice, above all when he had not come there of his -own free will, but under the cutlasses and bludgeons of the press-gang. -But perhaps a watch on deck in the sharp sea air put a man on his mettle -again; a battle must have been a capital relief; and prize-money, -bloodily earned and grossly squandered, opened the doors of the prison -for a twinkling. Somehow or other, at least, this worst of possible -lives could not overlie the spirit and gayety of our sailors; they did -their duty as though they had some interest in the fortune of that -country which so cruelly oppressed them, they served their guns merrily -when it came to fighting, and they had the readiest ear for a bold, -honourable sentiment, of any class of men the world ever produced. - -Most men of high destinies have high-sounding names. Pym and Habakkuk -may do pretty well, but they must not think to cope with the Cromwells -and Isaiahs. And you could not find a better case in point than that of -the English Admirals. Drake and Rooke and Hawke are picked names for men -of execution. Frobisher, Rodney, Boscawen, Foul-Weather, Jack Byron, are -all good to catch the eye in a page of a naval history. Cloudesley -Shovel is a mouthful of quaint and sounding syllables. Benbow has a -bulldog quality that suits the man’s character, and it takes us back to -those English archers who were his true comrades for plainness, -tenacity, and pluck. Raleigh is spirited and martial, and signifies an -act of bold conduct in the field. It is impossible to judge of Blake or -Nelson, no names current among men being worthy of such heroes. But -still it is odd enough, and very appropriate in this connection, that -the latter was greatly taken with his Sicilian title. “The -signification, perhaps, pleased him,” says Southey; “Duke of Thunder was -what in Dahomey would have been called a _strong name_; it was to a -sailor’s taste, and certainly to no man could it be more applicable.” -Admiral in itself is one of the most satisfactory of distinctions; it -has a noble sound and a very proud history; and Columbus thought so -highly of it, that he enjoined his heirs to sign themselves by that -title as long as the house should last. - -But it is the spirit of the men, and not their names, that I wish to -speak about in this paper. That spirit is truly English; they, and not -Tennyson’s cotton-spinners or Mr. D’Arcy Thompson’s Abstract Bagman, are -the true and typical Englishmen. There may be more _head_ of bagmen in -the country, but human beings are reckoned by number only in political -constitutions. And the Admirals are typical in the full force of the -word. They are splendid examples of virtue, indeed, but of a virtue in -which most Englishmen can claim a moderate share; and what we admire in -their lives is a sort of apotheosis of ourselves. Almost everybody in -our land, except humanitarians and a few persons whose youth has been -depressed by exceptionally æsthetic surroundings, can understand and -sympathise with an Admiral or a prize-fighter. I do not wish to bracket -Benbow and Tom Cribb; but, depend upon it, they are practically -bracketed for admiration in the minds of many frequenters of ale-houses. -If you told them about Germanicus and the eagles, or Regulus going back -to Carthage, they would very likely fall asleep; but tell them about -Harry Pearce and Jem Belcher, or about Nelson and the Nile, and they put -down their pipes to listen. I have by me a copy of _Boxiana_, on the -fly-leaves of which a youthful member of the fancy kept a chronicle of -remarkable events and an obituary of great men. Here we find piously -chronicled the demise of jockeys, watermen, and pugilists--Johnny Moore, -of the Liverpool Prize Ring; Tom Spring, aged fifty-six; “Pierce Egan, -senior, writer of _Boxiana_ and other sporting works”--and among all -these, the Duke of Wellington! If Benbow had lived in the time of this -annalist, do you suppose his name would not have been added to the -glorious roll? In short, we do not all feel warmly towards Wesley or -Laud, we cannot all take pleasure in _Paradise Lost_; but there are -certain common sentiments and touches of nature by which the whole -nation is made to feel kinship. A little while ago everybody, from -Hazlitt and John Wilson down to the imbecile creature who scribbled his -register on the fly-leaves of _Boxiana_, felt a more or less shamefaced -satisfaction in the exploits of prize-fighters. And the exploits of the -Admirals are popular to the same degree, and tell in all ranks of -society. Their sayings and doings stir English blood like the sound of a -trumpet; and if the Indian Empire, the trade of London, and all the -outward and visible ensigns of our greatness should pass away, we should -still leave behind us a durable monument of what we were in these -sayings and doings of the English Admirals. - -Duncan, lying off the Texel with his own flagship, the _Venerable_, and -only one other vessel, heard that the whole Dutch fleet was putting to -sea. He told Captain Hotham to anchor alongside of him in the narrowest -part of the channel, and fight his vessel till she sank. “I have taken -the depth of the water,” added he, “and when the _Venerable_ goes down, -my flag will still fly.” And you observe this is no naked Viking in a -prehistoric period; but a Scotch member of Parliament, with a smattering -of the classics, a telescope, a cocked hat of great size, and flannel -underclothing. In the same spirit, Nelson went into Aboukir with six -colours flying; so that even if five were shot away, it should not be -imagined he had struck. He too must needs wear his four stars outside -his Admiral’s frock, to be a butt for sharpshooters. “In honour I -gained them,” he said to objectors, adding with sublime illogicality, -“in honour I will die with them.” Captain Douglas of the _Royal Oak_, -when the Dutch fired his vessel in the Thames, sent his men ashore, but -was burned along with her himself rather than desert his post without -orders. Just then, perhaps the Merry Monarch was chasing a moth round -the supper-table with the ladies of his court. When Raleigh sailed into -Cadiz, and all the forts and ships opened fire on him at once, he -scorned to shoot a gun, and made answer with a flourish of insulting -trumpets. I like this bravado better than the wisest dispositions to -insure victory; it comes from the heart and goes to it. God has made -nobler heroes, but he never made a finer gentleman than Walter Raleigh. -And as our Admirals were full of heroic superstitions, and had a -strutting and vainglorious style of fight, so they discovered a -startling eagerness for battle, and courted war like a mistress. When -the news came to Essex before Cadiz that the attack had been decided, he -threw his hat into the sea. It is in this way that a schoolboy hears of -a half-holiday; but this was a bearded man of great possessions who had -just been allowed to risk his life. Benbow could not lie still in his -bunk after he had lost his leg; he must be on deck in a basket to direct -and animate the fight. I said they loved war like a mistress; yet I -think there are not many mistresses we should continue to woo under -similar circumstances. Trowbridge went ashore with the _Culloden_, and -was able to take no part in the battle of the Nile. “The merits of that -ship and her gallant captain,” wrote Nelson to the Admiralty, “are too -well known to benefit by anything I could say. Her misfortune was great -in getting aground, _while her more fortunate companions were in the -full tide of happiness_.” This is a notable expression, and depicts the -whole great-hearted, big-spoken stock of the English Admirals to a hair. -It was to be “in the full tide of happiness” for Nelson to destroy five -thousand five hundred and twenty-five of his fellow-creatures, and have -his own scalp torn open by a piece of langridge shot. Hear him again at -Copenhagen: “A shot through the mainmast knocked the splinters about; -and he observed to one of his officers with a smile, ‘It is warm work, -and this may be the last to any of us at any moment’; and then, stopping -short at the gangway, added, with emotion, ‘_But, mark you--I would not -be elsewhere for thousands._’” - -I must tell one more story, which has lately been made familiar to us -all, and that in one of the noblest ballads in the English language. I -had written my tame prose abstract, I shall beg the reader to believe, -when I had no notion that the sacred bard designed an immortality for -Greenville. Sir Richard Greenville was Vice-Admiral to Lord Thomas -Howard, and lay off the Azores with the English squadron in 1591. He was -a noted tyrant to his crew: a dark, bullying fellow apparently; and it -is related of him that he would chew and swallow wineglasses, by way of -convivial levity, till the blood ran out of his mouth. When the Spanish -fleet of fifty sail came within sight of the English, his ship, the -_Revenge_, was the last to weigh anchor, and was so far circumvented by -the Spaniards, that there were but two courses open--either to turn her -back upon the enemy or sail through one of his squadrons. The first -alternative Greenville dismissed as dishonourable to himself, his -country, and her Majesty’s ship. Accordingly, he chose the latter, and -steered into the Spanish armament. Several vessels he forced to luff and -fall under his lee; until, about three o’clock of the afternoon, a great -ship of three decks of ordnance took the wind out of his sails, and -immediately boarded. Thenceforward, and all night long, the _Revenge_ -held her own single-handed against the Spaniards. As one ship was beaten -off, another took its place. She endured, according to Raleigh’s -computation, “eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many -assaults and entries.” By morning the powder was spent, the pikes all -broken, not a stick was standing, “nothing left overhead either for -flight or defence”; six feet of water in the hold; almost all the men -hurt; and Greenville himself in a dying condition. To bring them to this -pass, a fleet of fifty sail had been mauling them for fifteen hours, the -_Admiral of the Hulks_ and the _Ascension_ of Seville had both gone -down alongside, and two other vessels had taken refuge on shore in a -sinking state. In Hawke’s words, they had “taken a great deal of -drubbing.” The captain and crew thought they had done about enough; but -Greenville was not of this opinion; he gave orders to the master gunner, -whom he knew to be a fellow after his own stamp, to scuttle the -_Revenge_ where she lay. The others, who were not mortally wounded like -the Admiral, interfered with some decision, locked the master gunner in -his cabin, after having deprived him of his sword, for he manifested an -intention to kill himself if he were not to sink the ship; and sent to -the Spaniards to demand terms. These were granted. The second or third -day after, Greenville died of his wounds aboard the Spanish flagship, -leaving his contempt upon the “traitors and dogs” who had not chosen to -do as he did, and engage fifty vessels, well found and fully manned, -with six inferior craft ravaged by sickness and short of stores. He at -least, he said, had done his duty as he was bound to do, and looked for -everlasting fame. - -Some one said to me the other day that they considered this story to be -of a pestilent example. I am not inclined to imagine we shall ever be -put into any practical difficulty from a superfluity of Greenvilles. And -besides, I demur to the opinion. The worth of such actions is not a -thing to be decided in a quaver of sensibility or a flush of righteous -commonsense. The man who wished to make the ballads of his country, -coveted a small matter compared to what Richard Greenville accomplished. -I wonder how many people have been inspired by this mad story, and how -many battles have been actually won for England in the spirit thus -engendered. It is only with a measure of habitual foolhardiness that you -can be sure, in the common run of men, of courage on a reasonable -occasion. An army or a fleet, if it is not led by quixotic fancies, will -not be led far by terror of the Provost Marshal. Even German warfare, in -addition to maps and telegraphs, is not above employing the _Wacht am -Rhein_. Nor is it only in the profession of arms that such stories may -do good to a man. In this desperate and gleeful fighting, whether it is -Greenville or Benbow, Hawke or Nelson, who flies his colours in the -ship, we see men brought to the test and giving proof of what we call -heroic feeling. Prosperous humanitarians tell me, in my club -smoking-room, that they are a prey to prodigious heroic feelings, and -that it costs them more nobility of soul to do nothing in particular, -than would carry on all the wars, by sea or land, of bellicose -humanity. It may very well be so, and yet not touch the point in -question. For what I desire is to see some of this nobility brought face -to face with me in an inspiriting achievement. A man may talk smoothly -over a cigar in my club smoking-room from now to the Day of Judgment, -without adding anything to mankind’s treasury of illustrious -and encouraging examples. It is not over the virtues of a -curate-and-tea-party novel, that people are abashed into high -resolutions. It may be because their hearts are crass, but to stir them -properly they must have men entering into glory with some pomp and -circumstance. And that is why these stories of our sea-captains, -printed, so to speak, in capitals, and full of bracing moral influence, -are more valuable to England than any material benefit in all the books -of political economy between Westminster and Birmingham. Greenville -chewing wineglasses at table makes no very pleasant figure, any more -than a thousand other artists when they are viewed in the body, or met -in private life; but his work of art, his finished tragedy, is an -eloquent performance; and I contend it ought not only to enliven men of -the sword as they go into battle, but send back merchant clerks with -more heart and spirit to their bookkeeping by double entry. - -There is another question which seems bound up in this; and that is -Temple’s problem: whether it was wise of Douglas to burn with the _Royal -Oak_? and, by implication, what it was that made him do so? Many will -tell you that it was the desire of fame. - -“To what do Cæsar and Alexander owe the infinite grandeur of their -renown, but to fortune? How many men has she extinguished in the -beginning of their progress, of whom we have no knowledge; who brought -as much courage to the work as they, if their adverse hap had not cut -them off in the first sally of their arms? Amongst so many and so great -dangers, I do not remember to have anywhere read that Cæsar was ever -wounded; a thousand have fallen in less dangers than the least of these -he went through. A great many brave actions must be expected to be -performed without witness, for one that comes to some notice. A man is -not always at the top of a breach, or at the head of an army in the -sight of his general, as upon a platform. He is often surprised between -the hedge and the ditch; he must run the hazard of his life against a -henroost; he must dislodge four rascally musketeers out of a barn; he -must prick out single from his party, as necessity arises, and meet -adventures alone.” - -Thus far Montaigne, in a characteristic essay on _Glory_. Where death -is certain, as in the cases of Douglas or Greenville, it seems all one -from a personal point of view. The man who lost his life against a -henroost is in the same pickle with him who lost his life against a -fortified place of the first order. Whether he has missed a peerage or -only the corporal’s stripes, it is all one if he has missed them and is -quietly in the grave. It was by a hazard that we learned the conduct of -the four marines of the _Wager_. There was no room for these brave -fellows in the boat, and they were left behind upon the island to a -certain death. They were soldiers, they said, and knew well enough it -was their business to die; and as their comrades pulled away, they stood -upon the beach, gave three cheers, and cried “God bless the king!” Now, -one or two of those who were in the boat escaped, against all -likelihood, to tell the story. That was a great thing for us; but -surely it cannot, by any possible twisting of human speech, be construed -into anything great for the marines. You may suppose, if you like, that -they died hoping their behaviour would not be forgotten; or you may -suppose they thought nothing on the subject, which is much more likely. -What can be the signification of the word “fame” to a private of -marines, who cannot read and knows nothing of past history beyond the -reminiscences of his grandmother? But whichever supposition you make, -the fact is unchanged. They died while the question still hung in the -balance; and I suppose their bones were already white, before the winds -and the waves and the humour of Indian chiefs and Spanish governors had -decided whether they were to be unknown and useless martyrs or honoured -heroes. Indeed, I believe this is the lesson: if it is for fame that -men do brave actions, they are only silly fellows after all. - -It is at best but a pettifogging, pickthank business to decompose -actions into little personal motives, and explain heroism away. The -Abstract Bagman will grow like an Admiral at heart, not by ungrateful -carping, but in a heat of admiration. But there is another theory of the -personal motive in these fine sayings and doings, which I believe to be -true and wholesome. People usually do things, and suffer martyrdoms, -because they have an inclination that way. The best artist is not the -man who fixes his eye on posterity, but the one who loves the practice -of his art. And instead of having a taste for being successful merchants -and retiring at thirty, some people have a taste for high and what we -call heroic forms of excitement. If the Admirals courted war like a -mistress; if, as the drum beat to quarters, the sailors came gaily out -of the forecastle,--it is because a fight is a period of multiplied and -intense experiences, and, by Nelson’s computation, worth “thousands” to -any one who has a heart under his jacket. If the marines of the _Wager_ -gave three cheers and cried “God bless the king,” it was because they -liked to do things nobly for their own satisfaction. They were giving -their lives, there was no help for that; and they made it a point of -self-respect to give them handsomely. And there were never four happier -marines in God’s world than these four at that moment. If it was worth -thousands to be at the Baltic, I wish a Benthamite arithmetician would -calculate how much it was worth to be one of these four marines; or how -much their story is worth to each of us who read it. And mark you, -undemonstrative men would have spoiled the situation. The finest action -is the better for a piece of purple. If the soldiers of the _Birkenhead_ -had not gone down in line, or these marines of the _Wager_ had walked -away simply into the island, like plenty of other brave fellows in the -like circumstances, my Benthamite arithmetician would assign a far lower -value to the two stories. We have to desire a grand air in our heroes; -and such a knowledge of the human stage as shall make them put the dots -on their own i’s, and leave us in no suspense as to when they mean to be -heroic. And hence, we should congratulate ourselves upon the fact that -our Admirals were not only great-hearted but big-spoken. - -The heroes themselves say, as often as not, that fame is their object; -but I do not think that is much to the purpose. People generally say -what they have been taught to say; that was the catchword they were -given in youth to express the aims of their way of life; and men who are -gaining great battles are not likely to take much trouble in reviewing -their sentiments and the words in which they were told to express them. -Almost every person, if you will believe himself, holds a quite -different theory of life from the one on which he is patently acting. -And the fact is, fame may be a forethought and an afterthought, but it -is too abstract an idea to move people greatly in moments of swift and -momentous decision. It is from something more immediate, some -determination of blood to the head, some trick of the fancy, that the -breach is stormed or the bold word spoken. I am sure a fellow shooting -an ugly weir in a canoe has exactly as much thought about fame as most -commanders going into battle; and yet the action, fall out how it will, -is not one of those the muse delights to celebrate. Indeed it is -difficult to see why the fellow does a thing so nameless and yet so -formidable to look at, unless on the theory that he likes it. I suspect -that is why; and I suspect it is at least ten per cent. of why Lord -Beaconsfield and Mr. Gladstone have debated so much in the House of -Commons, and why Burnaby rode to Khiva the other day, and why the -Admirals courted war like a mistress. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHILD’S PLAY - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CHILD’S PLAY - - -The regret we have for our childhood is not wholly justifiable: so much -a man may lay down without fear of public ribaldry; for although we -shake our heads over the change, we are not unconscious of the manifold -advantages of our new state. What we lose in generous impulse, we more -than gain in the habit of generously watching others; and the capacity -to enjoy Shakespeare may balance a lost aptitude for playing at -soldiers. Terror is gone out of our lives, moreover; we no longer see -the devil in the bed-curtains nor lie awake to listen to the wind. We go -to school no more; and if we have only exchanged one drudgery for -another (which is by no means sure), we are set free forever from the -daily fear of chastisement. And yet a great change has overtaken us; -and although we do not enjoy ourselves less, at least we take our -pleasure differently. We need pickles nowadays to make Wednesday’s cold -mutton please our Friday’s appetite; and I can remember the time when to -call it red venison, and tell myself a hunter’s story, would have made -it more palatable than the best of sauces. To the grown person, cold -mutton is cold mutton all the world over; not all the mythology ever -invented by man will make it better or worse to him; the broad fact, the -clamant reality, of the mutton carries away before it such seductive -figments. But for the child it is still possible to weave an enchantment -over eatables; and if he has but read of a dish in a story-book, it will -be heavenly manna to him for a week. - -If a grown man does not like eating and drinking and exercise, if he is -not something positive in his tastes, it means he has a feeble body and -should have some medicine; but children may be pure spirits, if they -will, and take their enjoyment in a world of moonshine. Sensation does -not count for so much in our first years as afterwards; something of the -swaddling numbness of infancy clings about us; we see and touch and hear -through a sort of golden mist. Children, for instance, are able enough -to see, but they have no great faculty for looking; they do not use -their eyes for the pleasure of using them, but for by-ends of their own; -and the things I call to mind seeing most vividly, were not beautiful in -themselves, but merely interesting or enviable to me as I thought they -might be turned to practical account in play. Nor is the sense of touch -so clean and poignant in children as it is in a man. If you will turn -over your old memories, I think the sensations of this sort you -remember will be somewhat vague, and come to not much more than a blunt, -general sense of heat on summer days, or a blunt, general sense of -wellbeing in bed. And here, of course, you will understand pleasurable -sensations; for overmastering pain--the most deadly and tragical element -in life, and the true commander of man’s soul and body--alas! pain has -its own way with all of us; it breaks in, a rude visitant, upon the -fairy garden where the child wanders in a dream, no less surely than it -rules upon the field of battle, or sends the immortal war-god whimpering -to his father; and innocence, no more than philosophy, can protect us -from this sting. As for taste, when we bear in mind the excesses of -unmitigated sugar which delight a youthful palate, “it is surely no very -cynical asperity” to think taste a character of the maturer growth. -Smell and hearing are perhaps more developed; I remember many scents, -many voices, and a great deal of spring singing in the woods. But -hearing is capable of vast improvement as a means of pleasure; and there -is all the world between gaping wonderment at the jargon of birds, and -the emotion with which a man listens to articulate music. - -At the same time, and step by step with this increase in the definition -and intensity of what we feel which accompanies our growing age, another -change takes place in the sphere of intellect, by which all things are -transformed and seen through theories and associations as through -coloured windows. We make to ourselves day by day, out of history, and -gossip, and economical speculations, and God knows what, a medium in -which we walk and through which we look abroad. We study shop windows -with other eyes than in our childhood, never to wonder, not always to -admire, but to make and modify our little incongruous theories about -life. It is no longer the uniform of a soldier that arrests our -attention; but perhaps the flowing carriage of a woman, or perhaps a -countenance that has been vividly stamped with passion and carries an -adventurous story written in its lines. The pleasure of surprise is -passed away; sugar-loaves and water-carts seem mighty tame to encounter; -and we walk the streets to make romances and to sociologise. Nor must we -deny that a good many of us walk them solely for the purposes of transit -or in the interest of a livelier digestion. These, indeed, may look back -with mingled thoughts upon their childhood, but the rest are in a better -case; they know more than when they were children, they understand -better, their desires and sympathies answer more nimbly to the -provocation of the senses, and their minds are brimming with interest -as they go about the world. - -According to my contention, this is a flight to which children cannot -rise. They are wheeled in perambulators or dragged about by nurses in a -pleasing stupour. A vague, faint, abiding wonderment possesses them. -Here and there some specially remarkable circumstance, such as a -water-cart or a guardsman, fairly penetrates into the seat of thought -and calls them, for half a moment, out of themselves; and you may see -them, still towed forward sideways by the inexorable nurse as by a sort -of destiny, but still staring at the bright object in their wake. It may -be some minutes before another such moving spectacle reawakens them to -the world in which they dwell. For other children, they almost -invariably show some intelligent sympathy. “There is a fine fellow -making mud pies,” they seem to say; “that I can understand, there is -some sense in mud pies.” But the doings of their elders, unless where -they are speakingly picturesque or recommend themselves by the quality -of being easily imitable, they let them go over their heads (as we say) -without the least regard. If it were not for this perpetual imitation, -we should be tempted to fancy they despised us outright, or only -considered us in the light of creatures brutally strong and brutally -silly; among whom they condescended to dwell in obedience like a -philosopher at a barbarous court. At times, indeed, they display an -arrogance of disregard that is truly staggering. Once, when I was -groaning aloud with physical pain, a young gentleman came into the room -and nonchalantly inquired if I had seen his bow and arrow. He made no -account of my groans, which he accepted, as he had to accept so much -else, as a piece of the inexplicable conduct of his elders; and like a -wise young gentleman, he would waste no wonder on the subject. Those -elders, who care so little for rational enjoyment, and are even the -enemies of rational enjoyment for others, he had accepted without -understanding and without complaint, as the rest of us accept the scheme -of the universe. - -We grown people can tell ourselves a story, give and take strokes until -the bucklers ring, ride far and fast, marry, fall, and die; all the -while sitting quietly by the fire or lying prone in bed. This is exactly -what a child cannot do, or does not do, at least, when he can find -anything else. He works all with lay figures and stage properties. When -his story comes to the fighting, he must rise, get something by way of a -sword and have a set-to with a piece of furniture, until he is out of -breath. When he comes to ride with the king’s pardon, he must bestride -a chair, which he will so hurry and belabour and on which he will so -furiously demean himself, that the messenger will arrive, if not bloody -with spurring, at least fiery red with haste. If his romance involves an -accident upon a cliff, he must clamber in person about the chest of -drawers and fall bodily upon the carpet, before his imagination is -satisfied. Lead soldiers, dolls, all toys, in short, are in the same -category and answer the same end. Nothing can stagger a child’s faith; -he accepts the clumsiest substitutes and can swallow the most staring -incongruities. The chair he has just been besieging as a castle, or -valiantly cutting to the ground as a dragon, is taken away for the -accommodation of a morning visitor, and he is nothing abashed; he can -skirmish by the hour with a stationary coal-scuttle; in the midst of -the enchanted pleasance, he can see, without sensible shock, the -gardener soberly digging potatoes for the day’s dinner. He can make -abstraction of whatever does not fit into his fable; and he puts his -eyes into his pocket, just as we hold our noses in an unsavory lane. And -so it is, that although the ways of children cross with those of their -elders in a hundred places daily, they never go in the same direction -nor so much as lie in the same element. So may the telegraph wires -intersect the line of the high-road, or so might a landscape painter and -a bagman visit the same country, and yet move in different worlds. - -People struck with these spectacles, cry aloud about the power of -imagination in the young. Indeed there may be two words to that. It is, -in some ways, but a pedestrian fancy that the child exhibits. It is the -grown people who make the nursery stories; all the children do, is -jealously to preserve the text. One out of a dozen reasons why _Robinson -Crusoe_ should be so popular with youth, is that it hits their level in -this matter to a nicety; Crusoe was always at makeshifts and had, in so -many words, to _play_ at a great variety of professions; and then the -book is all about tools, and there is nothing that delights a child so -much. Hammers and saws belong to a province of life that positively -calls for imitation. The juvenile lyrical drama, surely of the most -ancient Thespian model, wherein the trades of mankind are successively -simulated to the running burthen “On a cold and frosty morning,” gives a -good instance of the artistic taste in children. And this need for overt -action and lay figures testifies to a defect in the child’s imagination -which prevents him from carrying out his novels in the privacy of his -own heart. He does not yet know enough of the world and men. His -experience is incomplete. That stage-wardrobe and scene-room that we -call the memory is so ill provided, that he can overtake few -combinations and body out few stories, to his own content, without some -external aid. He is at the experimental stage; he is not sure how one -would feel in certain circumstances; to make sure, he must come as near -trying it as his means permit. And so here is young heroism with a -wooden sword, and mothers practice their kind vocation over a bit of -jointed stick. It may be laughable enough just now; but it is these same -people and these same thoughts, that not long hence, when they are on -the theatre of life, will make you weep and tremble. For children think -very much the same thoughts, and dream the same dreams, as bearded men -and marriageable women. No one is more romantic. Fame and honour, the -love of young men and the love of mothers, the business man’s pleasure -in method, all these and others they anticipate and rehearse in their -play hours. Upon us, who are further advanced and fairly dealing with -the threads of destiny, they only glance from time to time to glean a -hint for their own mimetic reproduction. Two children playing at -soldiers are far more interesting to each other than one of the scarlet -beings whom both are busy imitating. This is perhaps the greatest oddity -of all. “Art for art” is their motto; and the doings of grown folk are -only interesting as the raw material for play. Not Théophile Gautier, -not Flaubert, can look more callously upon life, or rate the -reproduction more highly over the reality; and they will parody an -execution, a deathbed, or the funeral of the young man of Nain, with -all the cheerfulness in the world. - -The true parallel for play is not to be found, of course, in conscious -art, which, though it be derived from play, is itself an abstract, -impersonal thing, and depends largely upon philosophical interests -beyond the scope of childhood. It is when we make castles in the air and -personate the leading character in our own romances, that we return to -the spirit of our first years. Only, there are several reasons why the -spirit is no longer so agreeable to indulge. Nowadays, when we admit -this personal element into our divagations we are apt to stir up -uncomfortable and sorrowful memories, and remind ourselves sharply of -old wounds. Our day-dreams can no longer lie all in the air like a story -in the _Arabian Knights_; they read to us rather like the history of a -period in which we ourselves had taken part, where we come across many -unfortunate passages and find our own conduct smartly reprimanded. And -then the child, mind you, acts his parts. He does not merely repeat them -to himself; he leaps, he runs, and sets the blood agog over all his -body. And so his play breathes him; and he no sooner assumes a passion -than he gives it vent. Alas! when we betake ourselves to our -intellectual form of play, sitting quietly by the fire or lying prone in -bed, we rouse many hot feelings for which we can find no outlet. -Substitutes are not acceptable to the mature mind, which desires the -thing itself; and even to rehearse a triumphant dialogue with one’s -enemy, although it is perhaps the most satisfactory piece of play still -left within our reach, is not entirely satisfying, and is even apt to -lead to a visit and an interview which may be the reverse of triumphant -after all. - -In the child’s world of dim sensation, play is all in all. “Making -believe” is the gist of his whole life, and he cannot so much as take a -walk except in character. I could not learn my alphabet without some -suitable _mise-en-scène_, and had to act a business man in an office -before I could sit down to my book. Will you kindly question your -memory, and find out how much you did, work or pleasure, in good faith -and soberness, and for how much you had to cheat yourself with some -invention? I remember, as though it were yesterday, the expansion of -spirit, the dignity and self-reliance, that came with a pair of -mustachios in burnt cork, even when there was none to see. Children are -even content to forego what we call the realities, and prefer the shadow -to the substance. When they might be speaking intelligibly together, -they chatter senseless gibberish by the hour, and are quite happy -because they are making believe to speak French. I have said already -how even the imperious appetite of hunger suffers itself to be gulled -and led by the nose with the fag-end of an old song. And it goes deeper -than this: when children are together even a meal is felt as an -interruption in the business of life; and they must find some -imaginative sanction, and tell themselves some sort of story, to account -for, to colour, to render entertaining, the simple processes of eating -and drinking. What wonderful fancies I have heard evolved out of the -pattern upon tea-cups!--from which there followed a code of rules and a -whole world of excitement, until tea-drinking began to take rank as a -game. When my cousin and I took our porridge of a morning, we had a -device to enliven the course of the meal. He ate his with sugar, and -explained it to be a country continually buried under snow. I took mine -with milk, and explained it to be a country suffering gradual -inundation. You can imagine us exchanging bulletins; how here was an -island still unsubmerged, here a valley not yet covered with snow; what -inventions were made; how his population lived in cabins on perches and -travelled on stilts, and how mine was always in boats; how the interest -grew furious, as the last corner of safe ground was cut off on all sides -and grew smaller every moment; and how, in fine, the food was of -altogether secondary importance, and might even have been nauseous, so -long as we seasoned it with these dreams. But perhaps the most exciting -moments I ever had over a meal, were in the case of calves’ feet jelly. -It was hardly possible not to believe--and you may be sure, so far from -trying, I did all I could to favour the illusion--that some part of it -was hollow, and that sooner or later my spoon would lay open the secret -tabernacle of the golden rock. There, might some miniature _Red Beard_ -await his hour; there, might one find the treasures of the _Forty -Thieves_, and bewildered Cassim beating about the walls. And so I -quarried on slowly, with bated breath, savouring the interest. Believe -me, I had little palate left for the jelly; and though I preferred the -taste when I took cream with it, I used often to go without, because the -cream dimmed the transparent fractures. - -Even with games, this spirit is authoritative with right-minded -children. It is thus that hide-and-seek has so pre-eminent a -sovereignty, for it is the wellspring of romance, and the actions and -the excitement to which it gives rise lend themselves to almost any sort -of fable. And thus cricket, which is a mere matter of dexterity, -palpably about nothing and for no end, often fails to satisfy infantile -craving. It is a game, if you like, but not a game of play. You cannot -tell yourself a story about cricket; and the activity it calls forth can -be justified on no rational theory. Even football, although it admirably -simulates the tug and the ebb and flow of battle, has presented -difficulties to the minds of young sticklers after verisimilitude; and I -knew at least one little boy who was mightily exercised about the -presence of the ball, and had to spirit himself up, whenever he came to -play, with an elaborate story of enchantment, and take the missile as a -sort of talisman bandied about in conflict between two Arabian nations. - -To think of such a frame of mind, is to become disquieted about the -bringing up of children. Surely they dwell in a mythological epoch, and -are not the contemporaries of their parents. What can they think of -them? what can they make of these bearded or petticoated giants who look -down upon their games? who move upon a cloudy Olympus, following unknown -designs apart from rational enjoyment? who profess the tenderest -solicitude for children, and yet every now and again reach down out of -their altitude and terribly vindicate the prerogatives of age? Off goes -the child, corporally smarting, but morally rebellious. Were there ever -such unthinkable deities as parents? I would give a great deal to know -what, in nine cases out of ten, is the child’s unvarnished feeling. A -sense of past cajolery; a sense of personal attraction, at best very -feeble; above all, I should imagine, a sense of terror for the untried -residue of mankind: go to make up the attraction that he feels. No -wonder, poor little heart, with such a weltering world in front of him, -if he clings to the hand he knows! The dread irrationality of the whole -affair, as it seems to children, is a thing we are all too ready to -forget. “O, why,” I remember passionately wondering, “why can we not all -be happy and devote ourselves to play?” And when children do -philosophise, I believe it is usually to very much the same purpose. - -One thing, at least, comes very clearly out of these considerations; -that whatever we are to expect at the hands of children, it should not -be any peddling exactitude about matters of fact. They walk in a vain -show, and among mists and rainbows; they are passionate after dreams and -unconcerned about realities; speech is a difficult art not wholly -learned; and there is nothing in their own tastes or purposes to teach -them what we mean by abstract truthfulness. When a bad writer is -inexact, even if he can look back on half a century of years, we charge -him with incompetence and not with dishonesty. And why not extend the -same allowance to imperfect speakers? Let a stockbroker be dead stupid -about poetry, or a poet inexact in the details of business, and we -excuse them heartily from blame. But show us a miserable, unbreeched -human entity, whose whole profession it is to take a tub for a fortified -town and a shaving-brush for the deadly stiletto, and who passes -three-fourths of his time in a dream and the rest in open -self-deception, and we expect him to be as nice upon a matter of fact as -a scientific expert bearing evidence. Upon my heart, I think it less -than decent. You do not consider how little the child sees, or how swift -he is to weave what he has seen into bewildering fiction; and that he -cares no more for what you call truth, than you for a gingerbread -dragoon. - -I am reminded, as I write, that the child is very inquiring as to the -precise truth of stories. But indeed this is a very different matter, -and one bound up with the subject of play, and the precise amount of -playfulness, or playability, to be looked for in the world. Many such -burning questions must arise in the course of nursery education. Among -the fauna of this planet, which already embraces the pretty soldier and -the terrifying Irish beggarman, is, or is not, the child to expect a -Bluebeard or a Cormoran? Is he, or is he not, to look out for magicians, -kindly and potent? May he, or may he not, reasonably hope to be cast -away upon a desert island, or turned to such diminutive proportions that -he can live on equal terms with his lead soldiery, and go a cruise in -his own toy schooner? Surely all these are practical questions to a -neophyte entering upon life with a view to play. Precision upon such a -point, the child can understand. But if you merely ask him of his past -behaviour, as to who threw such a stone, for instance, or struck such -and such a match; or whether he had looked into a parcel or gone by a -forbidden path,--why, he can see no moment in the inquiry, and it is ten -to one, he has already half forgotten and half bemused himself with -subsequent imaginings. - -It would be easy to leave them in their native cloudland, where they -figure so prettily--pretty like flowers and innocent like dogs. They -will come out of their gardens soon enough, and have to go into offices -and the witness-box. Spare them yet a while, O conscientious parent! Let -them doze among their playthings yet a little! for who knows what a -rough, warfaring existence lies before them in the future? - -[Illustration] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS AND OTHER -ESSAYS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: An apology for idlers and other essays</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Robert Louis Stevenson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 18, 2023 [eBook #69825]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images available at The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS AND OTHER ESSAYS ***</div> -<hr class="full"> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" -height="500" -alt=""><br><br><br> -<img src="images/i001-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""> -<br><br> -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS -<br><br> -<img src="images/i001-b.png" -width="90" -alt=""></p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="c"> -<span class="big">ROBERT LOUIS<br> -STEVENSON</span></p> - -<hr> - -<h1>AN<br> -APOLOGY FOR IDLERS<br> -AND OTHER ESSAYS<br></h1> -<hr> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/colophon.png" -width="85" -alt=""></p> - -<hr> - -<p class="c">PORTLAND MAINE<br> -THOMAS B MOSHER<br> -MDCCCCXVI<br> -</p> -</div> - -<table> -<tr><td>FIRST EDITION,</td><td>OCTOBER, 1905</td></tr> -<tr><td>SECOND EDITION,</td><td>SEPTEMBER, 1908</td></tr> -<tr><td>THIRD EDITION,</td><td>SEPTEMBER, 1916</td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a id="CONTENTS"></a><img src="images/i005-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""><br><br>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td><a href="#AN_APOLOGY_FOR_IDLERS"><span class="smcap">An Apology for Idlers</span></a></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#EL_DORADO"><span class="smcap">El Dorado</span></a></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_ENGLISH_ADMIRALS"><span class="smcap">The English Admirals</span></a></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#CHILDS_PLAY"><span class="smcap">Child’s Play</span></a></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/i005-b.png" -width="85" -alt=""></p> - -<h2> -<a id="AN_APOLOGY_FOR_IDLERS"></a><img src="images/i007-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""> -<br> -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS<br> -<img src="images/i007-b.png" -width="85" -alt=""><br><br></h2> - -<p class="c"><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_9">{9}</a></span><br><br> -<img src="images/i009.png" -width="300" -alt=""><br><br> -AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">J</span>UST now, when every one is bound, under pain of a decree in absence -convicting them of <i>lèse</i>-respectability, to enter on some lucrative -profession, and labour therein with something not far short of -enthusiasm, a cry from the opposite party who are content when they have -enough, and like to look on and enjoy in the meanwhile, savours a little -of bravado and gasconade. And yet this should not be. Idleness so -called, which does not consist in doing nothing, but in doing a great -deal not recognised in the dogmatic formularies of the ruling class, has -as good a right to state its position as industry itself. It is admitted -that the presence of people who refuse to enter in the great handicap -race for sixpenny pieces, is at once an insult and a disenchantment for -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_10">{10}</a></span>those who do. A fine fellow (as we see so many) takes his -determination, votes for the sixpences, and in the emphatic Americanism, -“goes for” them. And while such an one is ploughing distressfully up the -road, it is not hard to understand his resentment, when he perceives -cool persons in the meadows by the wayside, lying with a handkerchief -over their ears and a glass at their elbow. Alexander is touched in a -very delicate place by the disregard of Diogenes. Where was the glory of -having taken Rome for these tumultuous barbarians, who poured into the -Senate house, and found the Fathers sitting silent and unmoved by their -success? It is a sore thing to have laboured along and scaled the -arduous hilltops, and when all is done, find humanity indifferent to -your achievement. Hence physicists condemn the unphysical; financiers -have only a superficial toleration for those who know little of stocks; -literary per<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_11">{11}</a></span>sons despise the unlettered; and people of all pursuits -combine to disparage those who have none.</p> - -<p>But though this is one difficulty of the subject, it is not the -greatest. You could not be put in prison for speaking against industry, -but you can be sent to Coventry for speaking like a fool. The greatest -difficulty with most subjects is to do them well; therefore, please to -remember this is an apology. It is certain that much may be judiciously -argued in favour of diligence; only there is something to be said -against it, and that is what, on the present occasion, I have to say. To -state one argument is not necessarily to be deaf to all others, and that -a man has written a book of travels in Montenegro, is no reason why he -should never have been to Richmond.</p> - -<p>It is surely beyond a doubt that people should be a good deal idle in -youth. For though here and there a Lord Macaulay may<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_12">{12}</a></span> escape from school -honours with all his wits about him, most boys pay so dear for their -medals that they never afterwards have a shot in their locker, and begin -the world bankrupt. And the same holds true during all the time a lad is -educating himself, or suffering others to educate him. It must have been -a very foolish old gentleman who addressed Johnson at Oxford in these -words: “Young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of -knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will find that poring upon -books will be but an irksome task.” The old gentleman seems to have been -unaware that many other things besides reading grow irksome, and not a -few become impossible, by the time a man has to use spectacles and -cannot walk without a stick. Books are good enough in their own way, but -they are a mighty bloodless substitute for life. It seems a pity to sit, -like<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_13">{13}</a></span> the Lady of Shalott, peering into a mirror, with your back turned -on all the bustle and glamour of reality. And if a man reads very hard, -as the old anecdote reminds us, he will have little time for thought.</p> - -<p>If you look back on your own education, I am sure it will not be the -full, vivid, instructive hours of truantry that you regret; you would -rather cancel some lacklustre periods between sleep and waking in the -class. For my own part, I have attended a good many lectures in my time. -I still remember that the spinning of a top is a case of Kinetic -Stability. I still remember that Emphyteusis is not a disease, nor -Stillicide a crime. But though I would not willingly part with such -scraps of science, I do not set the same store by them as by certain -other odds and ends that I came by in the open street while I was -playing truant. This is not the moment to dilate<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_14">{14}</a></span> on that mighty place -of education, which was the favourite school of Dickens and of Balzac, -and turns out yearly many inglorious masters in the Science of the -Aspects of Life. Suffice it to say this: if a lad does not learn in the -streets, it is because he has no faculty of learning. Nor is the truant -always in the streets, for if he prefers, he may go out by the gardened -suburbs into the country. He may pitch on some tuft of lilacs over a -burn, and smoke innumerable pipes to the tune of the water on the -stones. A bird will sing in the thicket. And there he may fall into a -vein of kindly thought, and see things in a new perspective. Why, if -this be not education, what is? We may conceive Mr. Worldly Wiseman -accosting such an one, and the conversation that should thereupon ensue:</p> - -<p>“How now, young fellow, what dost thou here?”</p> - -<p>“Truly, sir, I take mine ease.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_15">{15}</a></span>”</p> - -<p>“Is not this the hour of the class? and should’st thou not be plying thy -Book with diligence, to the end thou mayest obtain knowledge?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, but thus also I follow after Learning, by your leave.”</p> - -<p>“Learning, quotha! After what fashion, I pray thee? Is it mathematics?”</p> - -<p>“No, to be sure.”</p> - -<p>“Is it metaphysics?”</p> - -<p>“Nor that.”</p> - -<p>“Is it some language?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, it is no language.”</p> - -<p>“Is it a trade?”</p> - -<p>“Nor a trade neither.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then, what is’t?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, sir, as a time may soon come for me to go upon Pilgrimage, I am -desirous to note what is commonly done by persons in my case, and where -are the ugliest Sloughs and Thickets on the Road; as also, what manner -of Staff is of the best service. Moreover, I lie here, by this water, to -learn by<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_16">{16}</a></span> root-of-heart a lesson which my master teaches me to call -Peace, or Contentment.”</p> - -<p>Hereupon Mr. Worldly Wiseman was much commoved with passion, and shaking -his cane with a very threatful countenance, broke forth upon this wise: -“Learning, quotha!” said he; “I would have all such rogues scourged by -the Hangman!”</p> - -<p>And so he would go his way, ruffling out his cravat with a crackle of -starch, like a turkey when it spreads its feathers.</p> - -<p>Now this, of Mr. Wiseman’s, is the common opinion. A fact is not called -a fact, but a piece of gossip, if it does not fall into one of your -scholastic categories. An inquiry must be in some acknowledged -direction, with a name to go by; or else you are not inquiring at all, -only lounging; and the workhouse is too good for you. It is supposed -that all knowledge is at the bottom of a well, or the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_17">{17}</a></span> far end of a -telescope. Sainte-Beuve, as he grew older, came to regard all experience -as a single great book, in which to study for a few years ere we go -hence; and it seemed all one to him whether you should read in Chapter -xx, which is the differential calculus, or in Chapter xxxix, which is -hearing the band play in the gardens. As a matter of fact, an -intelligent person, looking out of his eyes and hearkening in his ears, -with a smile on his face all the time, will get more true education than -many another in a life of heroic vigils. There is certainly some chill -and arid knowledge to be found upon the summits of formal and laborious -science; but it is all round about you, and for the trouble of looking, -that you will acquire the warm and palpitating facts of life. While -others are filling their memory with a lumber of words, one-half of -which they will forget before<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_18">{18}</a></span> the week be out, your truant may learn -some really useful art: to play the fiddle, to know a good cigar, or to -speak with ease and opportunity to all varieties of men. Many who have -“plied their book diligently,” and know all about some one branch or -another of accepted lore, come out of the study with an ancient and -owl-like demeanour, and prove dry, stockish, and dyspeptic in all the -better and brighter parts of life. Many make a large fortune, who remain -underbred and pathetically stupid to the last. And meantime there goes -the idler, who began life along with them—by your leave, a different -picture. He has had time to take care of his health and his spirits; he -has been a great deal in the open air, which is the most salutary of all -things for both body and mind; and if he has never read the great Book -in very recondite places, he has dipped into it and skimmed it<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_19">{19}</a></span> over to -excellent purpose. Might not the student afford some Hebrew roots, and -the business man some of his half-crowns, for a share of the idler’s -knowledge of life at large, and Art of Living? Nay, and the idler has -another and more important quality than these. I mean his wisdom. He who -has much looked on at the childish satisfaction of other people in their -hobbies, will regard his own with only a very ironical indulgence. He -will not be heard among the dogmatists. He will have a great and cool -allowance for all sorts of people and opinions. If he finds no -out-of-the-way truths, he will identify himself with no very burning -falsehood. His way takes him along a by-road, not much frequented, but -very even and pleasant, which is called Commonplace Lane, and leads to -the Belvedere of Commonsense. Thence he shall command an agreeable, if -no very noble pros<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_20">{20}</a></span>pect; and while others behold the East and West, the -Devil and the Sunrise, he will be contentedly aware of a sort of morning -hour upon all sublunary things, with an army of shadows running speedily -and in many different directions into the great daylight of Eternity. -The shadows and the generations, the shrill doctors and the plangent -wars, go by into ultimate silence and emptiness; but underneath all -this, a man may see, out of the Belvedere windows, much green and -peaceful landscape; many fire-lit parlours; good people laughing, -drinking, and making love as they did before the Flood or the French -Revolution; and the old shepherd telling his tale under the hawthorn.</p> - -<p>Extreme <i>busyness</i>, whether at school or college, kirk or market, is a -symptom of deficient vitality; and a faculty for idleness implies a -catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal identity. There is a -sort of dead-alive, hackneyed<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_21">{21}</a></span> people about, who are scarcely conscious -of living except in the exercise of some conventional occupation. Bring -these fellows into the country, or set them aboard ship, and you will -see how they pine for their desk or their study. They have no curiosity; -they cannot give themselves over to random provocations; they do not -take pleasure in the exercise of their faculties for its own sake; and -unless Necessity lays about them with a stick, they will even stand -still. It is no good speaking to such folk: they <i>cannot</i> be idle, their -nature is not generous enough; and they pass those hours in a sort of -coma, which are not dedicated to furious moiling in the gold-mill. When -they do not require to go to the office, when they are not hungry and -have no mind to drink, the whole breathing world is a blank to them. If -they have to wait an hour or so for a train, they fall into a stupid<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_22">{22}</a></span> -trance with their eyes open. To see them, you would suppose there was -nothing to look at and no one to speak with; you would imagine they were -paralysed or alienated; and yet very possibly they are hard workers in -their own way, and have good eyesight for a flaw in a deed or a turn of -the market. They have been to school and college, but all the time they -had their eye on the medal; they have gone about in the world and mixed -with clever people, but all the time they were thinking of their own -affairs. As if a man’s soul were not too small to begin with, they have -dwarfed and narrowed theirs by a life of all work and no play; until -here they are at forty, with a listless attention, a mind vacant of all -material of amusement, and not one thought to rub against another, while -they wait for the train. Before he was breeched, he might have clambered -on the boxes; when he was twenty, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_23">{23}</a></span> would have stared at the girls; -but now the pipe is smoked out, the snuff-box empty, and my gentleman -sits bolt upright upon a bench, with lamentable eyes. This does not -appeal to me as being Success in Life.</p> - -<p>But it is not only the person himself who suffers from his busy habits, -but his wife and children, his friends and relations, and down to the -very people he sits with in a railway carriage or an omnibus. Perpetual -devotion to what a man calls his business, is only to be sustained by -perpetual neglect of many other things. And it is not by any means -certain that a man’s business is the most important thing he has to do. -To an impartial estimate it will seem clear that many of the wisest, -most virtuous, and most beneficent parts that are to be played upon the -Theatre of Life are filled by gratuitous performers, and pass, among the -world at large, as phases of idle<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_24">{24}</a></span>ness. For in that Theatre, not only -the walking gentlemen, singing chambermaids and diligent fiddlers in the -orchestra, but those who look on and clap their hands from the benches, -do really play a part and fulfil important offices towards the general -result. You are no doubt very dependent on the care of your lawyer and -stockbroker, of the guards and signalmen who convey you rapidly from -place to place, and the policemen who walk the streets for your -protection; but is there not a thought of gratitude in your heart for -certain other benefactors who set you smiling when they fall in your -way, or season your dinner with good company? Colonel Newcome helped to -lose his friend’s money; Fred Bayham had an ugly trick of borrowing -shirts; and yet they were better people to fall among than Mr. Barnes. -And though Falstaff was neither sober nor very honest, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_25">{25}</a></span> think I could -name one or two long-faced Barabbases whom the world could better have -done without. Hazlitt mentions that he was more sensible of obligation -to Northcote, who had never done him anything he could call a service, -than to his whole circle of ostentatious friends; for he thought a good -companion emphatically the greatest benefactor. I know there are people -in the world who cannot feel grateful unless the favour has been done -them at the cost of pain and difficulty. But this is a churlish -disposition. A man may send you six sheets of letter-paper covered with -the most entertaining gossip, or you may pass half an hour pleasantly, -perhaps profitably, over an article of his; do you think the service -would be greater, if he had made the manuscript in his heart’s blood, -like a compact with the devil? Do you really fancy you should be more<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_26">{26}</a></span> -beholden to your correspondent, if he had been damning you all the while -for your importunity? Pleasures are more beneficial than duties because, -like the quality of mercy, they are not strained, and they are twice -blest. There must always be two to a kiss, and there may be a score in a -jest; but wherever there is an element of sacrifice, the favour is -conferred with pain, and, among generous people, received with -confusion. There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being -happy. By being happy, we sow anonymous benefits upon the world, which -remain unknown even to ourselves, or when they are disclosed, surprise -nobody so much as the benefactor. The other day, a ragged, barefoot boy -ran down the street after a marble, with so jolly an air that he set -every one he passed into a good humour; one of these persons, who had -been delivered from<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_27">{27}</a></span> more than usually black thoughts, stopped the -little fellow and gave him some money with this remark: “You see what -sometimes comes of looking pleased.” If he had looked pleased before, he -had now to look both pleased and mystified. For my part, I justify this -encouragement of smiling rather than tearful children; I do not wish to -pay for tears anywhere but upon the stage; but I am prepared to deal -largely in the opposite commodity. A happy man or woman is a better -thing to find than a five-pound note. He or she is a radiating focus of -goodwill; and their entrance into a room is as though another candle had -been lighted. We need not care whether they could prove the -forty-seventh proposition; they do a better thing than that, they -practically demonstrate the great Theorem of the Liveableness of Life. -Consequently, if a person cannot be happy without remaining idle, idle<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_28">{28}</a></span> -he should remain. It is a revolutionary precept; but thanks to hunger -and the workhouse, one not easily to be abused; and within practical -limits, it is one of the most incontestable truths in the whole Body of -Morality. Look at one of your industrious fellows for a moment, I -beseech you. He sows hurry and reaps indigestion; he puts a vast deal of -activity out to interest, and receives a large measure of nervous -derangement in return. Either he absents himself entirely from all -fellowship, and lives a recluse in a garret, with carpet slippers and a -leaden inkpot; or he comes among people swiftly and bitterly, in a -contraction of his whole nervous system, to discharge some temper before -he returns to work. I do not care how much or how well he works, this -fellow is an evil feature in other people’s lives. They would be happier -if he were dead. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_29">{29}</a></span> could easier do without his services in the -Circumlocution Office, than they can tolerate his fractious spirits. He -poisons life at the well-head. It is better to be beggared out of hand -by a scapegrace nephew, than daily hag-ridden by a peevish uncle.</p> - -<p>And what, in God’s name, is all this pother about? For what cause do -they embitter their own and other people’s lives? That a man should -publish three or thirty articles a year, that he should finish or not -finish his great allegorical picture, are questions of little interest -to the world. The ranks of life are full; and although a thousand fall, -there are always some to go into the breach. When they told Joan of Arc -she should be at home minding women’s work, she answered there were -plenty to spin and wash. And so, even with your own rare gifts! When -nature is “so careless of the single life,” why should we coddle -ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_30">{30}</a></span> into the fancy that our own is of exceptional importance? -Suppose Shakespeare had been knocked on the head some dark night in Sir -Thomas Lucy’s preserves, the world would have wagged on better or worse, -the pitcher gone to the well, the scythe to the corn, and the student to -his book; and no one been any the wiser of the loss. There are not many -works extant, if you look the alternative all over, which are worth the -price of a pound of tobacco to a man of limited means. This is a -sobering reflection for the proudest of our earthly vanities. Even a -tobacconist may, upon consideration, find no great cause for personal -vainglory in the phrase; for although tobacco is an admirable sedative, -the qualities necessary for retailing it are neither rare nor precious -in themselves. Alas and alas! you may take it how you will, but the -services of no single individual are indispensable. Atlas was just a -gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_31">{31}</a></span> with a protracted nightmare! And yet you see merchants who go -and labour themselves into a great fortune and thence into the -bankruptcy court; scribblers who keep scribbling at little articles -until their temper is a cross to all who come about them, as though -Pharaoh should set the Israelites to make a pin instead of a pyramid; -and fine young men who work themselves into a decline, and are driven -off in a hearse with white plumes upon it. Would you not suppose these -persons had been whispered, by the Master of the Ceremonies, the promise -of some momentous destiny? and that this lukewarm bullet on which they -play their farces was the bull’s-eye and centrepoint of all the -universe? And yet it is not so. The ends for which they give away their -priceless youth, for all they know, may be chimerical or hurtful; the -glory and riches they expect may never come, or may<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_32">{32}</a></span> find them -indifferent; and they and the world they inhabit are so inconsiderable -that the mind freezes at the thought.</p> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/i032.png" -width="95" -alt=""></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_33">{33}</a></span></p> -<h2><a id="EL_DORADO"></a> -<img src="images/i033-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""><br> -EL DORADO<br><br> -<img src="images/i033-b.png" -width="85" -alt=""><br>EL DORADO</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_34">{34}</a></span>  </p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_35">{35}</a></span>  </p> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/i035.png" -width="300" -alt=""><br><br> -EL DORADO</p> -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T seems as if a great deal were attainable in a world where there are -so many marriages and decisive battles, and where we all, at certain -hours of the day, and with great gusto and despatch, stow a portion of -victuals finally and irretrievably into the bag which contains us. And -it would seem also, on a hasty view, that the attainment of as much as -possible was the one goal of man’s contentious life. And yet, as regards -the spirit, this is but a semblance. We live in an ascending scale when -we live happily, one thing leading to another in an endless series. -There is always a new horizon for onward-looking men, and although we -dwell on a small planet, immersed in petty business and not enduring -beyond a brief period of years, we are so constituted that our hopes -are<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_36">{36}</a></span> inaccessible, like stars, and the term of hoping is prolonged until -the term of life. To be truly happy is a question of how we begin and -not of how we end, of what we want and not of what we have. An -aspiration is a joy forever, a possession as solid as a landed estate, a -fortune which we can never exhaust and which gives us year by year a -revenue of pleasurable activity. To have many of these is to be -spiritually rich. Life is only a very dull and ill-directed theatre -unless we have some interests in the piece; and to those who have -neither art nor science, the world is a mere arrangement of colours, or -a rough footway where they may very well break their shins. It is in -virtue of his own desires and curiosities that any man continues to -exist with even patience, that he is charmed by the look of things and -people, and that he wakens every morning with a renewed appetite for -work<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_37">{37}</a></span> and pleasure. Desire and curiosity are the two eyes through which -he sees the world in the most enchanted colours: it is they that make -women beautiful or fossils interesting: and the man may squander his -estate and come to beggary, but if he keeps these two amulets he is -still rich in the possibilities of pleasure. Suppose he could take one -meal so compact and comprehensive that he should never hunger any more; -suppose him, at a glance, to take in all the features of the world and -allay the desire for knowledge; suppose him to do the like in any -province of experience—would not that man be in a poor way for -amusement ever after?</p> - -<p>One who goes touring on foot with a single volume in his knapsack reads -with circumspection, pausing often to reflect, and often laying the book -down to contemplate the landscape or the prints in the inn parlour; for -he fears<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_38">{38}</a></span> to come to an end of his entertainment, and be left -companionless on the last stages of his journey. A young fellow recently -finished the works of Thomas Carlyle, winding up, if we remember aright, -with the ten notebooks upon Frederick the Great. “What!” cried the young -fellow, in consternation, “is there no more Carlyle? Am I left to the -daily papers?” A more celebrated instance is that of Alexander, who wept -bitterly because he had no more worlds to subdue. And when Gibbon had -finished the <i>Decline and Fall</i>, he had only a few moments of joy; and -it was with a “sober melancholy” that he parted from his labours.</p> - -<p>Happily we all shoot at the moon with ineffectual arrows; our hopes are -set on inaccessible El Dorado; we come to an end of nothing here below. -Interests are only plucked up to sow themselves again, like mustard. -You<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_39">{39}</a></span> would think, when the child was born, there would be an end to -trouble; and yet it is only the beginning of fresh anxieties; and when -you have seen it through its teething and its education, and at last its -marriage, alas! it is only to have new fears, new quivering -sensibilities, with every day; and the health of your children’s -children grows as touching a concern as that of your own. Again, when -you have married your wife, you would think you were got upon a hilltop, -and might begin to go downward by an easy slope. But you have only ended -courting to begin marriage. Falling in love and winning love are often -difficult tasks to overbearing and rebellious spirits; but to keep in -love is also a business of some importance, to which both man and wife -must bring kindness and goodwill. The true love story commences at the -altar, when there lies before the married pair a most beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_40">{40}</a></span> contest -of wisdom and generosity, and a life-long struggle towards an -unattainable ideal. Unattainable? Ay, surely unattainable, from the very -fact that they are two instead of one.</p> - -<p>“Of making books there is no end,” complained the Preacher; and did not -perceive how highly he was praising letters as an occupation. There is -no end, indeed, to making books or experiments, or to travel, or to -gathering wealth. Problem gives rise to problem. We may study forever, -and we are never as learned as we would. We have never made a statue -worthy of our dreams. And when we have discovered a continent, or -crossed a chain of mountains, it is only to find another ocean or -another plain upon the further side. In the infinite universe there is -room for our swiftest diligence and to spare. It is not like the works -of Carlyle, which can be read to an end. Even in a corner<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_41">{41}</a></span> of it, in a -private park, or in the neighbourhood of a single hamlet, the weather -and the seasons keep so deftly changing that although we walk there for -a lifetime there will be always something new to startle and delight us.</p> - -<p>There is only one wish realisable on the earth; only one thing that can -be perfectly attained: Death. And from a variety of circumstances we -have no one to tell us whether it be worth attaining.</p> - -<p>A strange picture we make on our way to our chimæras, ceaselessly -marching, grudging ourselves the time for rest; indefatigable, -adventurous pioneers. It is true that we shall never reach the goal; it -is even more than probable that there is no such place; and if we lived -for centuries and were endowed with the powers of a god, we should find -ourselves not much nearer what we wanted at the end. O toiling hands of -mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_42">{42}</a></span> not whither! Soon, soon, -it seems to you, you must come forth on some conspicuous hilltop, and -but a little way further, against the setting sun, descry the spires of -El Dorado. Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel -hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to -labour.</p> -<p class="c"><img src="images/i042.png" -width="85" -alt=""></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_43">{43}</a></span>  </p> - -<h2><a id="THE_ENGLISH_ADMIRALS"></a> -<img src="images/i043-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""> -<br><br> -THE ENGLISH ADMIRALS<br><br> -<img src="images/i043-b.png" -width="85" -alt=""><br> -</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_44">{44}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">“Whether it be wise in men to<br></span> -<span class="i0">do such actions or no, I am sure it<br></span> -<span class="i0">is so in States to honour them.”<br></span> -<span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Sir William Temple</span><br></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_45">{45}</a></span></p> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/i045.png" -width="300" -alt=""><br><br> -THE ENGLISH ADMIRALS</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is one story of the wars of Rome which I have always very much -envied for England. Germanicus was going down at the head of the legions -into a dangerous river—on the opposite bank the woods were full of -Germans—when there flew out seven great eagles which seemed to marshal -the Romans on their way; they did not pause or waver, but disappeared -into the forest where the enemy lay concealed. “Forward!” cried -Germanicus, with a fine rhetorical inspiration, “Forward! and follow the -Roman birds.” It would be a very heavy spirit that did not give a leap -at such a signal, and a very timorous one that continued to have any -doubt of success. To appropriate the eagles as fellow-countrymen was to -make imaginary allies of the forces of nature;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_46">{46}</a></span> the Roman Empire and its -military fortunes, and along with these the prospects of those -individual Roman legionaries now fording a river in Germany, looked -altogether greater and more hopeful. It is a kind of illusion easy to -produce. A particular shape of cloud, the appearance of a particular -star, the holiday of some particular saint, anything in short to remind -the combatants of patriotic legends or old successes, may be enough to -change the issue of a pitched battle; for it gives to the one party a -feeling that Right and the larger interests are with them.</p> - -<p>If an Englishman wishes to have such a feeling, it must be about the -sea. The lion is nothing to us; he has not been taken to the hearts of -the people, and naturalised as an English emblem. We know right well -that a lion would fall foul of us as grimly as he would of a Frenchman -or a Moldavian Jew, and we do not carry<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_47">{47}</a></span> him before us in the smoke of -battle. But the sea is our approach and bulwark; it has been the scene -of our greatest triumphs and dangers; and we are accustomed in lyrical -strains to claim it as our own. The prostrating experiences of -foreigners between Calais and Dover have always an agreeable side to -English prepossessions. A man from Bedfordshire, who does not know one -end of the ship from the other until she begins to move, swaggers among -such persons with a sense of hereditary nautical experience. To suppose -yourself endowed with natural parts for the sea because you are the -countryman of Blake and mighty Nelson, is perhaps just as unwarrantable -as to imagine Scotch extraction a sufficient guarantee that you will -look well in a kilt. But the feeling is there, and seated beyond the -reach of argument. We should consider ourselves unworthy of our descent<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_48">{48}</a></span> -if we did not share the arrogance of our progenitors, and please -ourselves with the pretension that the sea is English. Even where it is -looked upon by the guns and battlements of another nation we regard it -as a kind of English cemetery, where the bones of our seafaring fathers -take their rest until the last trumpet; for I suppose no other nation -has lost as many ships, or sent as many brave fellows to the bottom.</p> - -<p>There is nowhere such a background for heroism as the noble, terrifying, -and picturesque conditions of some of our sea fights. Hawke’s battle in -the tempest, and Aboukir at the moment when the French Admiral blew up, -reach the limit of what is imposing to the imagination. And our naval -annals owe some of their interest to the fantastic and beautiful -appearance of old warships and the romance that invests the sea and -everything sea-going in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_49">{49}</a></span> eyes of English lads on a half-holiday at -the coast. Nay, and what we know of the misery between decks enhances -the bravery of what was done by giving it something for contrast. We -like to know that these bold and honest fellows contrived to live, and -to keep bold and honest, among absurd and vile surroundings. No reader -can forget the description of the <i>Thunder</i> in <i>Roderick Random</i>: the -disorderly tyranny; the cruelty and dirt of officers and men; deck after -deck, each with some new object of offence; the hospital, where the -hammocks were huddled together with but fourteen inches space for each; -the cockpit, far under water, where, “in an intolerable stench,” the -spectacled steward kept the accounts of the different messes; and the -canvas enclosure, six feet square, in which Morgan made flip and -salmagundi, smoked his pipe, sang his Welsh songs, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_50">{50}</a></span> swore his queer -Welsh imprecations. There are portions of this business on board the -<i>Thunder</i> over which the reader passes lightly and hurriedly, like a -traveller in a malarious country. It is easy enough to understand the -opinion of Dr. Johnson: “Why, sir,” he said, “no man will be a sailor -who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail.” You would fancy -any one’s spirit would die out under such an accumulation of darkness, -noisomeness, and injustice, above all when he had not come there of his -own free will, but under the cutlasses and bludgeons of the press-gang. -But perhaps a watch on deck in the sharp sea air put a man on his mettle -again; a battle must have been a capital relief; and prize-money, -bloodily earned and grossly squandered, opened the doors of the prison -for a twinkling. Somehow or other, at least, this worst of possible -lives could not overlie the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_51">{51}</a></span> spirit and gayety of our sailors; they did -their duty as though they had some interest in the fortune of that -country which so cruelly oppressed them, they served their guns merrily -when it came to fighting, and they had the readiest ear for a bold, -honourable sentiment, of any class of men the world ever produced.</p> - -<p>Most men of high destinies have high-sounding names. Pym and Habakkuk -may do pretty well, but they must not think to cope with the Cromwells -and Isaiahs. And you could not find a better case in point than that of -the English Admirals. Drake and Rooke and Hawke are picked names for men -of execution. Frobisher, Rodney, Boscawen, Foul-Weather, Jack Byron, are -all good to catch the eye in a page of a naval history. Cloudesley -Shovel is a mouthful of quaint and sounding syllables. Benbow has a -bulldog quality that suits<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_52">{52}</a></span> the man’s character, and it takes us back to -those English archers who were his true comrades for plainness, -tenacity, and pluck. Raleigh is spirited and martial, and signifies an -act of bold conduct in the field. It is impossible to judge of Blake or -Nelson, no names current among men being worthy of such heroes. But -still it is odd enough, and very appropriate in this connection, that -the latter was greatly taken with his Sicilian title. “The -signification, perhaps, pleased him,” says Southey; “Duke of Thunder was -what in Dahomey would have been called a <i>strong name</i>; it was to a -sailor’s taste, and certainly to no man could it be more applicable.” -Admiral in itself is one of the most satisfactory of distinctions; it -has a noble sound and a very proud history; and Columbus thought so -highly of it, that he enjoined his heirs to sign themselves by that -title as long as the house should last.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_53">{53}</a></span></p> - -<p>But it is the spirit of the men, and not their names, that I wish to -speak about in this paper. That spirit is truly English; they, and not -Tennyson’s cotton-spinners or Mr. D’Arcy Thompson’s Abstract Bagman, are -the true and typical Englishmen. There may be more <i>head</i> of bagmen in -the country, but human beings are reckoned by number only in political -constitutions. And the Admirals are typical in the full force of the -word. They are splendid examples of virtue, indeed, but of a virtue in -which most Englishmen can claim a moderate share; and what we admire in -their lives is a sort of apotheosis of ourselves. Almost everybody in -our land, except humanitarians and a few persons whose youth has been -depressed by exceptionally æsthetic surroundings, can understand and -sympathise with an Admiral or a prize-fighter. I do not wish to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_54">{54}</a></span> bracket -Benbow and Tom Cribb; but, depend upon it, they are practically -bracketed for admiration in the minds of many frequenters of ale-houses. -If you told them about Germanicus and the eagles, or Regulus going back -to Carthage, they would very likely fall asleep; but tell them about -Harry Pearce and Jem Belcher, or about Nelson and the Nile, and they put -down their pipes to listen. I have by me a copy of <i>Boxiana</i>, on the -fly-leaves of which a youthful member of the fancy kept a chronicle of -remarkable events and an obituary of great men. Here we find piously -chronicled the demise of jockeys, watermen, and pugilists—Johnny Moore, -of the Liverpool Prize Ring; Tom Spring, aged fifty-six; “Pierce Egan, -senior, writer of <i>Boxiana</i> and other sporting works”—and among all -these, the Duke of Wellington! If Benbow had lived in the time of this<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_55">{55}</a></span> -annalist, do you suppose his name would not have been added to the -glorious roll? In short, we do not all feel warmly towards Wesley or -Laud, we cannot all take pleasure in <i>Paradise Lost</i>; but there are -certain common sentiments and touches of nature by which the whole -nation is made to feel kinship. A little while ago everybody, from -Hazlitt and John Wilson down to the imbecile creature who scribbled his -register on the fly-leaves of <i>Boxiana</i>, felt a more or less shamefaced -satisfaction in the exploits of prize-fighters. And the exploits of the -Admirals are popular to the same degree, and tell in all ranks of -society. Their sayings and doings stir English blood like the sound of a -trumpet; and if the Indian Empire, the trade of London, and all the -outward and visible ensigns of our greatness should pass away, we should -still leave behind us a durable monument of what we<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_56">{56}</a></span> were in these -sayings and doings of the English Admirals.</p> - -<p>Duncan, lying off the Texel with his own flagship, the <i>Venerable</i>, and -only one other vessel, heard that the whole Dutch fleet was putting to -sea. He told Captain Hotham to anchor alongside of him in the narrowest -part of the channel, and fight his vessel till she sank. “I have taken -the depth of the water,” added he, “and when the <i>Venerable</i> goes down, -my flag will still fly.” And you observe this is no naked Viking in a -prehistoric period; but a Scotch member of Parliament, with a smattering -of the classics, a telescope, a cocked hat of great size, and flannel -underclothing. In the same spirit, Nelson went into Aboukir with six -colours flying; so that even if five were shot away, it should not be -imagined he had struck. He too must needs wear his four stars outside -his Admiral’s frock, to be a butt for sharpshooters. “In honour I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_57">{57}</a></span> -gained them,” he said to objectors, adding with sublime illogicality, -“in honour I will die with them.” Captain Douglas of the <i>Royal Oak</i>, -when the Dutch fired his vessel in the Thames, sent his men ashore, but -was burned along with her himself rather than desert his post without -orders. Just then, perhaps the Merry Monarch was chasing a moth round -the supper-table with the ladies of his court. When Raleigh sailed into -Cadiz, and all the forts and ships opened fire on him at once, he -scorned to shoot a gun, and made answer with a flourish of insulting -trumpets. I like this bravado better than the wisest dispositions to -insure victory; it comes from the heart and goes to it. God has made -nobler heroes, but he never made a finer gentleman than Walter Raleigh. -And as our Admirals were full of heroic superstitions, and had a -strutting and vainglorious style of fight, so they<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_58">{58}</a></span> discovered a -startling eagerness for battle, and courted war like a mistress. When -the news came to Essex before Cadiz that the attack had been decided, he -threw his hat into the sea. It is in this way that a schoolboy hears of -a half-holiday; but this was a bearded man of great possessions who had -just been allowed to risk his life. Benbow could not lie still in his -bunk after he had lost his leg; he must be on deck in a basket to direct -and animate the fight. I said they loved war like a mistress; yet I -think there are not many mistresses we should continue to woo under -similar circumstances. Trowbridge went ashore with the <i>Culloden</i>, and -was able to take no part in the battle of the Nile. “The merits of that -ship and her gallant captain,” wrote Nelson to the Admiralty, “are too -well known to benefit by anything I could say. Her misfortune was great -in getting<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_59">{59}</a></span> aground, <i>while her more fortunate companions were in the -full tide of happiness</i>.” This is a notable expression, and depicts the -whole great-hearted, big-spoken stock of the English Admirals to a hair. -It was to be “in the full tide of happiness” for Nelson to destroy five -thousand five hundred and twenty-five of his fellow-creatures, and have -his own scalp torn open by a piece of langridge shot. Hear him again at -Copenhagen: “A shot through the mainmast knocked the splinters about; -and he observed to one of his officers with a smile, ‘It is warm work, -and this may be the last to any of us at any moment’; and then, stopping -short at the gangway, added, with emotion, ‘<i>But, mark you—I would not -be elsewhere for thousands.</i>’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>I must tell one more story, which has lately been made familiar to us -all, and that in one of the noblest ballads in the English lan<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_60">{60}</a></span>guage. I -had written my tame prose abstract, I shall beg the reader to believe, -when I had no notion that the sacred bard designed an immortality for -Greenville. Sir Richard Greenville was Vice-Admiral to Lord Thomas -Howard, and lay off the Azores with the English squadron in 1591. He was -a noted tyrant to his crew: a dark, bullying fellow apparently; and it -is related of him that he would chew and swallow wineglasses, by way of -convivial levity, till the blood ran out of his mouth. When the Spanish -fleet of fifty sail came within sight of the English, his ship, the -<i>Revenge</i>, was the last to weigh anchor, and was so far circumvented by -the Spaniards, that there were but two courses open—either to turn her -back upon the enemy or sail through one of his squadrons. The first -alternative Greenville dismissed as dishonourable to himself, his -country, and her<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_61">{61}</a></span> Majesty’s ship. Accordingly, he chose the latter, and -steered into the Spanish armament. Several vessels he forced to luff and -fall under his lee; until, about three o’clock of the afternoon, a great -ship of three decks of ordnance took the wind out of his sails, and -immediately boarded. Thenceforward, and all night long, the <i>Revenge</i> -held her own single-handed against the Spaniards. As one ship was beaten -off, another took its place. She endured, according to Raleigh’s -computation, “eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many -assaults and entries.” By morning the powder was spent, the pikes all -broken, not a stick was standing, “nothing left overhead either for -flight or defence”; six feet of water in the hold; almost all the men -hurt; and Greenville himself in a dying condition. To bring them to this -pass, a fleet of fifty sail had been mauling them for fifteen hours, the -<i>Admiral of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_62">{62}</a></span> the Hulks</i> and the <i>Ascension</i> of Seville had both gone -down alongside, and two other vessels had taken refuge on shore in a -sinking state. In Hawke’s words, they had “taken a great deal of -drubbing.” The captain and crew thought they had done about enough; but -Greenville was not of this opinion; he gave orders to the master gunner, -whom he knew to be a fellow after his own stamp, to scuttle the -<i>Revenge</i> where she lay. The others, who were not mortally wounded like -the Admiral, interfered with some decision, locked the master gunner in -his cabin, after having deprived him of his sword, for he manifested an -intention to kill himself if he were not to sink the ship; and sent to -the Spaniards to demand terms. These were granted. The second or third -day after, Greenville died of his wounds aboard the Spanish flagship, -leaving his contempt upon the “traitors and dogs” who<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_63">{63}</a></span> had not chosen to -do as he did, and engage fifty vessels, well found and fully manned, -with six inferior craft ravaged by sickness and short of stores. He at -least, he said, had done his duty as he was bound to do, and looked for -everlasting fame.</p> - -<p>Some one said to me the other day that they considered this story to be -of a pestilent example. I am not inclined to imagine we shall ever be -put into any practical difficulty from a superfluity of Greenvilles. And -besides, I demur to the opinion. The worth of such actions is not a -thing to be decided in a quaver of sensibility or a flush of righteous -commonsense. The man who wished to make the ballads of his country, -coveted a small matter compared to what Richard Greenville accomplished. -I wonder how many people have been inspired by this mad story, and how -many battles have been actually won for England in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_64">{64}</a></span> spirit thus -engendered. It is only with a measure of habitual foolhardiness that you -can be sure, in the common run of men, of courage on a reasonable -occasion. An army or a fleet, if it is not led by quixotic fancies, will -not be led far by terror of the Provost Marshal. Even German warfare, in -addition to maps and telegraphs, is not above employing the <i>Wacht am -Rhein</i>. Nor is it only in the profession of arms that such stories may -do good to a man. In this desperate and gleeful fighting, whether it is -Greenville or Benbow, Hawke or Nelson, who flies his colours in the -ship, we see men brought to the test and giving proof of what we call -heroic feeling. Prosperous humanitarians tell me, in my club -smoking-room, that they are a prey to prodigious heroic feelings, and -that it costs them more nobility of soul to do nothing in particular, -than would carry on all the wars,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_65">{65}</a></span> by sea or land, of bellicose -humanity. It may very well be so, and yet not touch the point in -question. For what I desire is to see some of this nobility brought face -to face with me in an inspiriting achievement. A man may talk smoothly -over a cigar in my club smoking-room from now to the Day of Judgment, -without adding anything to mankind’s treasury of illustrious and -encouraging examples. It is not over the virtues of a -curate-and-tea-party novel, that people are abashed into high -resolutions. It may be because their hearts are crass, but to stir them -properly they must have men entering into glory with some pomp and -circumstance. And that is why these stories of our sea-captains, -printed, so to speak, in capitals, and full of bracing moral influence, -are more valuable to England than any material benefit in all the books -of political economy between West<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_66">{66}</a></span>minster and Birmingham. Greenville -chewing wineglasses at table makes no very pleasant figure, any more -than a thousand other artists when they are viewed in the body, or met -in private life; but his work of art, his finished tragedy, is an -eloquent performance; and I contend it ought not only to enliven men of -the sword as they go into battle, but send back merchant clerks with -more heart and spirit to their bookkeeping by double entry.</p> - -<p>There is another question which seems bound up in this; and that is -Temple’s problem: whether it was wise of Douglas to burn with the <i>Royal -Oak</i>? and, by implication, what it was that made him do so? Many will -tell you that it was the desire of fame.</p> - -<p>“To what do Cæsar and Alexander owe the infinite grandeur of their -renown, but to fortune? How many men has she extinguished in the -beginning of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_67">{67}</a></span> progress, of whom we have no knowledge; who brought -as much courage to the work as they, if their adverse hap had not cut -them off in the first sally of their arms? Amongst so many and so great -dangers, I do not remember to have anywhere read that Cæsar was ever -wounded; a thousand have fallen in less dangers than the least of these -he went through. A great many brave actions must be expected to be -performed without witness, for one that comes to some notice. A man is -not always at the top of a breach, or at the head of an army in the -sight of his general, as upon a platform. He is often surprised between -the hedge and the ditch; he must run the hazard of his life against a -henroost; he must dislodge four rascally musketeers out of a barn; he -must prick out single from his party, as necessity arises, and meet -adventures alone.”</p> - -<p>Thus far Montaigne, in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_68">{68}</a></span> characteristic essay on <i>Glory</i>. Where death -is certain, as in the cases of Douglas or Greenville, it seems all one -from a personal point of view. The man who lost his life against a -henroost is in the same pickle with him who lost his life against a -fortified place of the first order. Whether he has missed a peerage or -only the corporal’s stripes, it is all one if he has missed them and is -quietly in the grave. It was by a hazard that we learned the conduct of -the four marines of the <i>Wager</i>. There was no room for these brave -fellows in the boat, and they were left behind upon the island to a -certain death. They were soldiers, they said, and knew well enough it -was their business to die; and as their comrades pulled away, they stood -upon the beach, gave three cheers, and cried “God bless the king!” Now, -one or two of those who were in the boat escaped, against all -likelihood, to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_69">{69}</a></span> tell the story. That was a great thing for us; but -surely it cannot, by any possible twisting of human speech, be construed -into anything great for the marines. You may suppose, if you like, that -they died hoping their behaviour would not be forgotten; or you may -suppose they thought nothing on the subject, which is much more likely. -What can be the signification of the word “fame” to a private of -marines, who cannot read and knows nothing of past history beyond the -reminiscences of his grandmother? But whichever supposition you make, -the fact is unchanged. They died while the question still hung in the -balance; and I suppose their bones were already white, before the winds -and the waves and the humour of Indian chiefs and Spanish governors had -decided whether they were to be unknown and useless martyrs or honoured -heroes. Indeed, I believe this is the lesson:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_70">{70}</a></span> if it is for fame that -men do brave actions, they are only silly fellows after all.</p> - -<p>It is at best but a pettifogging, pickthank business to decompose -actions into little personal motives, and explain heroism away. The -Abstract Bagman will grow like an Admiral at heart, not by ungrateful -carping, but in a heat of admiration. But there is another theory of the -personal motive in these fine sayings and doings, which I believe to be -true and wholesome. People usually do things, and suffer martyrdoms, -because they have an inclination that way. The best artist is not the -man who fixes his eye on posterity, but the one who loves the practice -of his art. And instead of having a taste for being successful merchants -and retiring at thirty, some people have a taste for high and what we -call heroic forms of excitement. If the Admirals courted<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_71">{71}</a></span> war like a -mistress; if, as the drum beat to quarters, the sailors came gaily out -of the forecastle,—it is because a fight is a period of multiplied and -intense experiences, and, by Nelson’s computation, worth “thousands” to -any one who has a heart under his jacket. If the marines of the <i>Wager</i> -gave three cheers and cried “God bless the king,” it was because they -liked to do things nobly for their own satisfaction. They were giving -their lives, there was no help for that; and they made it a point of -self-respect to give them handsomely. And there were never four happier -marines in God’s world than these four at that moment. If it was worth -thousands to be at the Baltic, I wish a Benthamite arithmetician would -calculate how much it was worth to be one of these four marines; or how -much their story is worth to each of us who read it. And mark you, -undemonstrative men<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_72">{72}</a></span> would have spoiled the situation. The finest action -is the better for a piece of purple. If the soldiers of the <i>Birkenhead</i> -had not gone down in line, or these marines of the <i>Wager</i> had walked -away simply into the island, like plenty of other brave fellows in the -like circumstances, my Benthamite arithmetician would assign a far lower -value to the two stories. We have to desire a grand air in our heroes; -and such a knowledge of the human stage as shall make them put the dots -on their own i’s, and leave us in no suspense as to when they mean to be -heroic. And hence, we should congratulate ourselves upon the fact that -our Admirals were not only great-hearted but big-spoken.</p> - -<p>The heroes themselves say, as often as not, that fame is their object; -but I do not think that is much to the purpose. People generally say -what they have been taught to say; that was the catch<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_73">{73}</a></span>word they were -given in youth to express the aims of their way of life; and men who are -gaining great battles are not likely to take much trouble in reviewing -their sentiments and the words in which they were told to express them. -Almost every person, if you will believe himself, holds a quite -different theory of life from the one on which he is patently acting. -And the fact is, fame may be a forethought and an afterthought, but it -is too abstract an idea to move people greatly in moments of swift and -momentous decision. It is from something more immediate, some -determination of blood to the head, some trick of the fancy, that the -breach is stormed or the bold word spoken. I am sure a fellow shooting -an ugly weir in a canoe has exactly as much thought about fame as most -commanders going into battle; and yet the action, fall out how it will, -is not one of those the muse<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_74">{74}</a></span> delights to celebrate. Indeed it is -difficult to see why the fellow does a thing so nameless and yet so -formidable to look at, unless on the theory that he likes it. I suspect -that is why; and I suspect it is at least ten per cent. of why Lord -Beaconsfield and Mr. Gladstone have debated so much in the House of -Commons, and why Burnaby rode to Khiva the other day, and why the -Admirals courted war like a mistress.</p> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/i074.png" -width="85" -alt=""><br><br><br> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_75">{75}</a></span><br><br> -</p> - -<h2><a id="CHILDS_PLAY"></a> -<img src="images/i075-a.png" -width="175" -alt=""><br><br> -CHILD’S PLAY<br><br> -<img src="images/i075-b.png" -width="85" -alt=""> -</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_76">{76}</a></span>  </p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_77">{77}</a></span>  </p> -<p class="c"><img src="images/i077.png" -width="300" -alt=""> -<br><br> -CHILD’S PLAY</p> -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE regret we have for our childhood is not wholly justifiable: so much -a man may lay down without fear of public ribaldry; for although we -shake our heads over the change, we are not unconscious of the manifold -advantages of our new state. What we lose in generous impulse, we more -than gain in the habit of generously watching others; and the capacity -to enjoy Shakespeare may balance a lost aptitude for playing at -soldiers. Terror is gone out of our lives, moreover; we no longer see -the devil in the bed-curtains nor lie awake to listen to the wind. We go -to school no more; and if we have only exchanged one drudgery for -another (which is by no means sure), we are set free forever from the -daily fear of chastisement. And yet a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_78">{78}</a></span> great change has overtaken us; -and although we do not enjoy ourselves less, at least we take our -pleasure differently. We need pickles nowadays to make Wednesday’s cold -mutton please our Friday’s appetite; and I can remember the time when to -call it red venison, and tell myself a hunter’s story, would have made -it more palatable than the best of sauces. To the grown person, cold -mutton is cold mutton all the world over; not all the mythology ever -invented by man will make it better or worse to him; the broad fact, the -clamant reality, of the mutton carries away before it such seductive -figments. But for the child it is still possible to weave an enchantment -over eatables; and if he has but read of a dish in a story-book, it will -be heavenly manna to him for a week.</p> - -<p>If a grown man does not like eating and drinking and exercise, if he is -not something positive in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_79">{79}</a></span> his tastes, it means he has a feeble body and -should have some medicine; but children may be pure spirits, if they -will, and take their enjoyment in a world of moonshine. Sensation does -not count for so much in our first years as afterwards; something of the -swaddling numbness of infancy clings about us; we see and touch and hear -through a sort of golden mist. Children, for instance, are able enough -to see, but they have no great faculty for looking; they do not use -their eyes for the pleasure of using them, but for by-ends of their own; -and the things I call to mind seeing most vividly, were not beautiful in -themselves, but merely interesting or enviable to me as I thought they -might be turned to practical account in play. Nor is the sense of touch -so clean and poignant in children as it is in a man. If you will turn -over your old memories, I think the sensa<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_80">{80}</a></span>tions of this sort you -remember will be somewhat vague, and come to not much more than a blunt, -general sense of heat on summer days, or a blunt, general sense of -wellbeing in bed. And here, of course, you will understand pleasurable -sensations; for overmastering pain—the most deadly and tragical element -in life, and the true commander of man’s soul and body—alas! pain has -its own way with all of us; it breaks in, a rude visitant, upon the -fairy garden where the child wanders in a dream, no less surely than it -rules upon the field of battle, or sends the immortal war-god whimpering -to his father; and innocence, no more than philosophy, can protect us -from this sting. As for taste, when we bear in mind the excesses of -unmitigated sugar which delight a youthful palate, “it is surely no very -cynical asperity” to think taste a character of the maturer growth. -Smell and hearing are<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_81">{81}</a></span> perhaps more developed; I remember many scents, -many voices, and a great deal of spring singing in the woods. But -hearing is capable of vast improvement as a means of pleasure; and there -is all the world between gaping wonderment at the jargon of birds, and -the emotion with which a man listens to articulate music.</p> - -<p>At the same time, and step by step with this increase in the definition -and intensity of what we feel which accompanies our growing age, another -change takes place in the sphere of intellect, by which all things are -transformed and seen through theories and associations as through -coloured windows. We make to ourselves day by day, out of history, and -gossip, and economical speculations, and God knows what, a medium in -which we walk and through which we look abroad. We study shop windows -with other eyes than in our childhood,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_82">{82}</a></span> never to wonder, not always to -admire, but to make and modify our little incongruous theories about -life. It is no longer the uniform of a soldier that arrests our -attention; but perhaps the flowing carriage of a woman, or perhaps a -countenance that has been vividly stamped with passion and carries an -adventurous story written in its lines. The pleasure of surprise is -passed away; sugar-loaves and water-carts seem mighty tame to encounter; -and we walk the streets to make romances and to sociologise. Nor must we -deny that a good many of us walk them solely for the purposes of transit -or in the interest of a livelier digestion. These, indeed, may look back -with mingled thoughts upon their childhood, but the rest are in a better -case; they know more than when they were children, they understand -better, their desires and sympathies answer more nimbly to the -provocation of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_83">{83}</a></span> senses, and their minds are brimming with interest -as they go about the world.</p> - -<p>According to my contention, this is a flight to which children cannot -rise. They are wheeled in perambulators or dragged about by nurses in a -pleasing stupour. A vague, faint, abiding wonderment possesses them. -Here and there some specially remarkable circumstance, such as a -water-cart or a guardsman, fairly penetrates into the seat of thought -and calls them, for half a moment, out of themselves; and you may see -them, still towed forward sideways by the inexorable nurse as by a sort -of destiny, but still staring at the bright object in their wake. It may -be some minutes before another such moving spectacle reawakens them to -the world in which they dwell. For other children, they almost -invariably show some intelligent sympathy. “There is a fine fellow -making<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_84">{84}</a></span> mud pies,” they seem to say; “that I can understand, there is -some sense in mud pies.” But the doings of their elders, unless where -they are speakingly picturesque or recommend themselves by the quality -of being easily imitable, they let them go over their heads (as we say) -without the least regard. If it were not for this perpetual imitation, -we should be tempted to fancy they despised us outright, or only -considered us in the light of creatures brutally strong and brutally -silly; among whom they condescended to dwell in obedience like a -philosopher at a barbarous court. At times, indeed, they display an -arrogance of disregard that is truly staggering. Once, when I was -groaning aloud with physical pain, a young gentleman came into the room -and nonchalantly inquired if I had seen his bow and arrow. He made no -account of my groans, which he accepted,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_85">{85}</a></span> as he had to accept so much -else, as a piece of the inexplicable conduct of his elders; and like a -wise young gentleman, he would waste no wonder on the subject. Those -elders, who care so little for rational enjoyment, and are even the -enemies of rational enjoyment for others, he had accepted without -understanding and without complaint, as the rest of us accept the scheme -of the universe.</p> - -<p>We grown people can tell ourselves a story, give and take strokes until -the bucklers ring, ride far and fast, marry, fall, and die; all the -while sitting quietly by the fire or lying prone in bed. This is exactly -what a child cannot do, or does not do, at least, when he can find -anything else. He works all with lay figures and stage properties. When -his story comes to the fighting, he must rise, get something by way of a -sword and have a set-to with a piece of furniture, until he is out of -breath.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_86">{86}</a></span> When he comes to ride with the king’s pardon, he must bestride -a chair, which he will so hurry and belabour and on which he will so -furiously demean himself, that the messenger will arrive, if not bloody -with spurring, at least fiery red with haste. If his romance involves an -accident upon a cliff, he must clamber in person about the chest of -drawers and fall bodily upon the carpet, before his imagination is -satisfied. Lead soldiers, dolls, all toys, in short, are in the same -category and answer the same end. Nothing can stagger a child’s faith; -he accepts the clumsiest substitutes and can swallow the most staring -incongruities. The chair he has just been besieging as a castle, or -valiantly cutting to the ground as a dragon, is taken away for the -accommodation of a morning visitor, and he is nothing abashed; he can -skirmish by the hour with a stationary coal-scuttle; in the midst of -the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_87">{87}</a></span> enchanted pleasance, he can see, without sensible shock, the -gardener soberly digging potatoes for the day’s dinner. He can make -abstraction of whatever does not fit into his fable; and he puts his -eyes into his pocket, just as we hold our noses in an unsavory lane. And -so it is, that although the ways of children cross with those of their -elders in a hundred places daily, they never go in the same direction -nor so much as lie in the same element. So may the telegraph wires -intersect the line of the high-road, or so might a landscape painter and -a bagman visit the same country, and yet move in different worlds.</p> - -<p>People struck with these spectacles, cry aloud about the power of -imagination in the young. Indeed there may be two words to that. It is, -in some ways, but a pedestrian fancy that the child exhibits. It is the -grown people who make the nursery stories; all<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_88">{88}</a></span> the children do, is -jealously to preserve the text. One out of a dozen reasons why <i>Robinson -Crusoe</i> should be so popular with youth, is that it hits their level in -this matter to a nicety; Crusoe was always at makeshifts and had, in so -many words, to <i>play</i> at a great variety of professions; and then the -book is all about tools, and there is nothing that delights a child so -much. Hammers and saws belong to a province of life that positively -calls for imitation. The juvenile lyrical drama, surely of the most -ancient Thespian model, wherein the trades of mankind are successively -simulated to the running burthen “On a cold and frosty morning,” gives a -good instance of the artistic taste in children. And this need for overt -action and lay figures testifies to a defect in the child’s imagination -which prevents him from carrying out his novels in the privacy of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_89">{89}</a></span> -own heart. He does not yet know enough of the world and men. His -experience is incomplete. That stage-wardrobe and scene-room that we -call the memory is so ill provided, that he can overtake few -combinations and body out few stories, to his own content, without some -external aid. He is at the experimental stage; he is not sure how one -would feel in certain circumstances; to make sure, he must come as near -trying it as his means permit. And so here is young heroism with a -wooden sword, and mothers practice their kind vocation over a bit of -jointed stick. It may be laughable enough just now; but it is these same -people and these same thoughts, that not long hence, when they are on -the theatre of life, will make you weep and tremble. For children think -very much the same thoughts, and dream the same dreams, as bearded men -and marriageable<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_90">{90}</a></span> women. No one is more romantic. Fame and honour, the -love of young men and the love of mothers, the business man’s pleasure -in method, all these and others they anticipate and rehearse in their -play hours. Upon us, who are further advanced and fairly dealing with -the threads of destiny, they only glance from time to time to glean a -hint for their own mimetic reproduction. Two children playing at -soldiers are far more interesting to each other than one of the scarlet -beings whom both are busy imitating. This is perhaps the greatest oddity -of all. “Art for art” is their motto; and the doings of grown folk are -only interesting as the raw material for play. Not Théophile Gautier, -not Flaubert, can look more callously upon life, or rate the -reproduction more highly over the reality; and they will parody an -execution, a deathbed, or the funeral of the young man<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_91">{91}</a></span> of Nain, with -all the cheerfulness in the world.</p> - -<p>The true parallel for play is not to be found, of course, in conscious -art, which, though it be derived from play, is itself an abstract, -impersonal thing, and depends largely upon philosophical interests -beyond the scope of childhood. It is when we make castles in the air and -personate the leading character in our own romances, that we return to -the spirit of our first years. Only, there are several reasons why the -spirit is no longer so agreeable to indulge. Nowadays, when we admit -this personal element into our divagations we are apt to stir up -uncomfortable and sorrowful memories, and remind ourselves sharply of -old wounds. Our day-dreams can no longer lie all in the air like a story -in the <i>Arabian Knights</i>; they read to us rather like the history of a -period in which we ourselves had taken part, where we come across<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_92">{92}</a></span> many -unfortunate passages and find our own conduct smartly reprimanded. And -then the child, mind you, acts his parts. He does not merely repeat them -to himself; he leaps, he runs, and sets the blood agog over all his -body. And so his play breathes him; and he no sooner assumes a passion -than he gives it vent. Alas! when we betake ourselves to our -intellectual form of play, sitting quietly by the fire or lying prone in -bed, we rouse many hot feelings for which we can find no outlet. -Substitutes are not acceptable to the mature mind, which desires the -thing itself; and even to rehearse a triumphant dialogue with one’s -enemy, although it is perhaps the most satisfactory piece of play still -left within our reach, is not entirely satisfying, and is even apt to -lead to a visit and an interview which may be the reverse of triumphant -after all.</p> - -<p>In the child’s world of dim sensation, play is all in all. “Making<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_93">{93}</a></span> -believe” is the gist of his whole life, and he cannot so much as take a -walk except in character. I could not learn my alphabet without some -suitable <i>mise-en-scène</i>, and had to act a business man in an office -before I could sit down to my book. Will you kindly question your -memory, and find out how much you did, work or pleasure, in good faith -and soberness, and for how much you had to cheat yourself with some -invention? I remember, as though it were yesterday, the expansion of -spirit, the dignity and self-reliance, that came with a pair of -mustachios in burnt cork, even when there was none to see. Children are -even content to forego what we call the realities, and prefer the shadow -to the substance. When they might be speaking intelligibly together, -they chatter senseless gibberish by the hour, and are quite happy -because they are making believe to speak<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_94">{94}</a></span> French. I have said already -how even the imperious appetite of hunger suffers itself to be gulled -and led by the nose with the fag-end of an old song. And it goes deeper -than this: when children are together even a meal is felt as an -interruption in the business of life; and they must find some -imaginative sanction, and tell themselves some sort of story, to account -for, to colour, to render entertaining, the simple processes of eating -and drinking. What wonderful fancies I have heard evolved out of the -pattern upon tea-cups!—from which there followed a code of rules and a -whole world of excitement, until tea-drinking began to take rank as a -game. When my cousin and I took our porridge of a morning, we had a -device to enliven the course of the meal. He ate his with sugar, and -explained it to be a country continually buried under <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_95">{95}</a></span>snow. I took mine -with milk, and explained it to be a country suffering gradual -inundation. You can imagine us exchanging bulletins; how here was an -island still unsubmerged, here a valley not yet covered with snow; what -inventions were made; how his population lived in cabins on perches and -travelled on stilts, and how mine was always in boats; how the interest -grew furious, as the last corner of safe ground was cut off on all sides -and grew smaller every moment; and how, in fine, the food was of -altogether secondary importance, and might even have been nauseous, so -long as we seasoned it with these dreams. But perhaps the most exciting -moments I ever had over a meal, were in the case of calves’ feet jelly. -It was hardly possible not to believe—and you may be sure, so far from -trying, I did all I could to favour the illusion—that some part of it -was hollow, and that sooner or later<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_96">{96}</a></span> my spoon would lay open the secret -tabernacle of the golden rock. There, might some miniature <i>Red Beard</i> -await his hour; there, might one find the treasures of the <i>Forty -Thieves</i>, and bewildered Cassim beating about the walls. And so I -quarried on slowly, with bated breath, savouring the interest. Believe -me, I had little palate left for the jelly; and though I preferred the -taste when I took cream with it, I used often to go without, because the -cream dimmed the transparent fractures.</p> - -<p>Even with games, this spirit is authoritative with right-minded -children. It is thus that hide-and-seek has so pre-eminent a -sovereignty, for it is the wellspring of romance, and the actions and -the excitement to which it gives rise lend themselves to almost any sort -of fable. And thus cricket, which is a mere matter of dexterity, -palpably about nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_97">{97}</a></span> and for no end, often fails to satisfy infantile -craving. It is a game, if you like, but not a game of play. You cannot -tell yourself a story about cricket; and the activity it calls forth can -be justified on no rational theory. Even football, although it admirably -simulates the tug and the ebb and flow of battle, has presented -difficulties to the minds of young sticklers after verisimilitude; and I -knew at least one little boy who was mightily exercised about the -presence of the ball, and had to spirit himself up, whenever he came to -play, with an elaborate story of enchantment, and take the missile as a -sort of talisman bandied about in conflict between two Arabian nations.</p> - -<p>To think of such a frame of mind, is to become disquieted about the -bringing up of children. Surely they dwell in a mythological epoch, and -are not the contemporaries of their parents. What<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_98">{98}</a></span> can they think of -them? what can they make of these bearded or petticoated giants who look -down upon their games? who move upon a cloudy Olympus, following unknown -designs apart from rational enjoyment? who profess the tenderest -solicitude for children, and yet every now and again reach down out of -their altitude and terribly vindicate the prerogatives of age? Off goes -the child, corporally smarting, but morally rebellious. Were there ever -such unthinkable deities as parents? I would give a great deal to know -what, in nine cases out of ten, is the child’s unvarnished feeling. A -sense of past cajolery; a sense of personal attraction, at best very -feeble; above all, I should imagine, a sense of terror for the untried -residue of mankind: go to make up the attraction that he feels. No -wonder, poor little heart, with such a weltering world in front of him, -if he clings to the hand he knows!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_99">{99}</a></span> The dread irrationality of the whole -affair, as it seems to children, is a thing we are all too ready to -forget. “O, why,” I remember passionately wondering, “why can we not all -be happy and devote ourselves to play?” And when children do -philosophise, I believe it is usually to very much the same purpose.</p> - -<p>One thing, at least, comes very clearly out of these considerations; -that whatever we are to expect at the hands of children, it should not -be any peddling exactitude about matters of fact. They walk in a vain -show, and among mists and rainbows; they are passionate after dreams and -unconcerned about realities; speech is a difficult art not wholly -learned; and there is nothing in their own tastes or purposes to teach -them what we mean by abstract truthfulness. When a bad writer is -inexact, even if he can look back on half a century of years, we charge -him with incompetence and not with dis<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_100">{100}</a></span>honesty. And why not extend the -same allowance to imperfect speakers? Let a stockbroker be dead stupid -about poetry, or a poet inexact in the details of business, and we -excuse them heartily from blame. But show us a miserable, unbreeched -human entity, whose whole profession it is to take a tub for a fortified -town and a shaving-brush for the deadly stiletto, and who passes -three-fourths of his time in a dream and the rest in open -self-deception, and we expect him to be as nice upon a matter of fact as -a scientific expert bearing evidence. Upon my heart, I think it less -than decent. You do not consider how little the child sees, or how swift -he is to weave what he has seen into bewildering fiction; and that he -cares no more for what you call truth, than you for a gingerbread -dragoon.</p> - -<p>I am reminded, as I write, that the child is very inquiring as to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_101">{101}</a></span> the -precise truth of stories. But indeed this is a very different matter, -and one bound up with the subject of play, and the precise amount of -playfulness, or playability, to be looked for in the world. Many such -burning questions must arise in the course of nursery education. Among -the fauna of this planet, which already embraces the pretty soldier and -the terrifying Irish beggarman, is, or is not, the child to expect a -Bluebeard or a Cormoran? Is he, or is he not, to look out for magicians, -kindly and potent? May he, or may he not, reasonably hope to be cast -away upon a desert island, or turned to such diminutive proportions that -he can live on equal terms with his lead soldiery, and go a cruise in -his own toy schooner? Surely all these are practical questions to a -neophyte entering upon life with a view to play. Precision upon such a -point, the child can under<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_102">{102}</a></span>stand. But if you merely ask him of his past -behaviour, as to who threw such a stone, for instance, or struck such -and such a match; or whether he had looked into a parcel or gone by a -forbidden path,—why, he can see no moment in the inquiry, and it is ten -to one, he has already half forgotten and half bemused himself with -subsequent imaginings.</p> - -<p>It would be easy to leave them in their native cloudland, where they -figure so prettily—pretty like flowers and innocent like dogs. They -will come out of their gardens soon enough, and have to go into offices -and the witness-box. Spare them yet a while, O conscientious parent! Let -them doze among their playthings yet a little! for who knows what a -rough, warfaring existence lies before them in the future?</p> - -<p class="c"><img src="images/i102.png" -width="85" -alt=""></p> -<hr class="full"> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN APOLOGY FOR IDLERS AND OTHER ESSAYS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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