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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-05 14:54:10 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-05 14:54:10 -0700 |
| commit | 8e9fb868092ff304e992d95cd8379bf00293f043 (patch) | |
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page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; } + div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } + .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; + margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } + .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; + page-break-before: always; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + .pageno {color: #585858; font-size: small; background-color:#ffffff; } + </style> + </head> + + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78612 ***</div> + + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>MY DAYS AND DREAMS</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div id='Frontispiece' class='c002 figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_frontis.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>E. C. (1857), AGE THIRTEEN.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div> + <h1 class='c003'>MY DAYS AND DREAMS<br> <span class='large'>BEING AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOTES</span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div>BY</div> + <div class='c004'><span class='xlarge'>EDWARD CARPENTER</span></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='small'><i>Author of “Towards Democracy” “Civilization: its Cause and Cure,” &c.</i></span></div> + <div class='c004'>WITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='large'>LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.</span></div> + <div>RUSKIN HOUSE      40 MUSEUM STREET W.C.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c002'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='small'><i>First published June 1916</i></span></div> + <div class='line'><span class='small'><i>Second Edition October 1916</i></span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><span class='small'>(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> + <h2 class='c005'>PREFACE</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>Old St. Pancras Churchyard even now, though +dominated by the huge gasometers of Wharf Road +and backed against the roaring traffic of the Midland +Railway, preserves something of the sylvan beauty +which a hundred years ago made it the frequent +trysting-place of Percy Shelley and Mary Godwin. +As it happened, in the summer of 1890, when staying +in London, I used to make the garden my resort for +writing purposes; and one day in July of that year +I started some autobiographical notes. In a very +casual way, and with long intervals between, the +notes have been continued down to the present time. +The volume therefore to which this is the Preface +has been composed in somewhat disjointed fashion; +and the discerning reader will probably perceive +slight differences of style and outlook in its different +portions, and perhaps also experience some uncertainty +as to the proper chronology of the events which +it records. In order to mitigate the latter trouble +I have from time to time inserted in square brackets +the date of the year in which the corresponding +portion was written.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i009.jpg' alt='Edward Carpenter signature' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<p class='c007'><i>May 1916</i></p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c008'>CHAPTER</th> + <th class='c009'> </th> + <th class='c010'>PAGE</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Preface</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>I.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Brighton</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>II.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>My Parents</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_36'>36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>III.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Cambridge</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>IV.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>University Extension and Northern Towns</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>V.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Bradway and “Towards Democracy”</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>VI.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Manual Work and Market-Gardening</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>VII.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Sheffield and Socialism</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_124'>124</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Trade and Philosophy</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>IX.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Millthorpe and Household Life</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>X.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Millthorpiana</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XI.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Story of My Books</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_190'>190</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XII.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Personalities—I.</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_210'>210</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XIII.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Personalities—II.</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_234'>234</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>XIV.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>London and Lectures</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XV.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Translations and Translators</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_269'>269</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XVI.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Rural Conditions</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_282'>282</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>XVII.</td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>How the World Looks at Seventy</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Appendix I. Congratulatory Letter and Reply</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_318'>318</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Appendix II. Bibliography</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Index</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_333'>333</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span> + <h2 class='c005'>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +</div> +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>E. C. (1857), Age Thirteen</span></td> + <td class='c010'><i><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <th class='c009'></th> + <th class='c010'>FACING PAGE</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>My Father, Charles Carpenter</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i039'>36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>My Mother, Sophia Wilson Carpenter</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i049'>44</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>My Sister Lizzie</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i078'>71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Self, in about 1875</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i079'>79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Albert Fearnehough and “Bruno”</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i112'>103</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>E. C. (1887), Age Forty-three</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i120'>109</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>G. E. H.—One of the First “Sheffield Socialists”</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i144'>131</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Hut and The Brook</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i161'>146</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>George Merrill</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i178'>161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Millthorpe Cottage and Orchard</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i187'>168</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>G. M. Feeding the Fowls</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i197'>176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Self in Porch</span> (1905). (<i>Photogravure</i>)</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i231'>208</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Cartoon, “Simplification of Life”</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i282'>257</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Lilly Nadler-Nuellens with Her Daughter</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i299'>272</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Marcelle Senard</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i310'>280</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>E. C. (1910), Age Sixty-six</span></td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#i335'>304</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>MY DAYS AND DREAMS</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span> + <h2 class='c005'>I<br> BRIGHTON</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>My life hitherto [7th July 1890] divides into four +pretty distinct periods—first, my early life up to the +age of twenty, during which time I lived mainly at +Brighton, embedded in a would-be fashionable world +which I hated; secondly, the period from ’64 to +about ’74, during which time I was mostly at Cambridge, +in a more or less intellectual atmosphere; +thirdly, from ’74 to ’81, when I carried on the Extension +lectures and made acquaintance with the manufacturing +centres and commercial society of the North +of England; and fourthly, for the ten years from +’80 and ’81 down to the present time, when I have +lived almost entirely among the working masses, and +been largely engaged in manual labour.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It may seem ungrateful to say so, but my abiding +recollection of early days is one of discomfort. Not +but that I had on the whole good times at school, +in the classes and in the games; not but that at +home I was lapped in the ease and attentive service +of a well-to-do household, and had a hundred advantages +denied to an ordinary child of the people; but +that after all at home I never felt really at home. +Perhaps I was unduly sensitive; anyhow I felt +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>myself an alien, an outcast, a failure, and an object +of ridicule.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The social life which encircled us at Brighton was +artificial enough; but it was the standard which we +children had to live to. My parents were the best +people in the world, but they could not fly out of the +conditions in which they belonged. I hated the life, +was miserable in it—the heartless conventionalities, +silly proprieties—but I never imagined, it never +occurred to me, that there <i>was</i> any other life. To +be pursued by the dread of appearances—what people +would say about one’s clothes or one’s speech—to +be always in fear of committing unconscious trespasses +of invisible rules—this seemed in my childhood +the normal condition of existence; so much +so that I never dreamed of escaping from it. I only +prayed for a time when grace might be given me +to pass by without reproach. I was never a daring +or rumbustious child. Timid and sensitive, my spirit +was sadly lacking in the inestimable virtue of revolt. +I suffered and was stupid enough to think myself +in the wrong.</p> + +<p class='c011'>There was a curate at one of the churches to which +we used to go—a smooth-haired, carefully shaven, +meek young man, probably of feeble mind; but +all I knew was that people praised him: such a +good-looking, well-mannered fellow he was, and +preached such nice sermons! “Happy Mr. +Cass,” I used to think, for even now I remember +his name—“Oh, happy Mr. Cass, if only I could +be like <i>you</i> when I grow up.” I was then about +fourteen, and I fancy that the mere sight of Cass in +his spotless surplice must have worked upon me, +for it was about that time or a little later that I began +to make up my mind to take Orders. No doubt +from the first there was a fatal bias towards religion. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>I remember distinctly—and it must have been about +the same period—thinking as I lay awake in bed +at night that if the house were on fire I would save +my <i>prayer-book</i>! I saw myself in my mind’s eye +in heroic attitude rushing into my mother’s room +where the sacred volume lay, and bearing it out +through flames and smoke into the street. It was +not my mother or sisters that I was going to save ... +but my prayer-book! Alas! what a defect +of nature, or of teaching, must have been there!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Curious, the covered underground life that some +children lead! I never remember, all those years +at Brighton, till I was nineteen or twenty, a single +person older than myself who was my confidant. I +do not remember a single occasion on which in any +trouble or perplexity I was able to go to any one +for help or consolation. My mother, firm, just, and +courageous as she was, and setting her children an +heroic example, belonged to the old school, which +thought any manifestation of feeling unbecoming. +We early learned to suppress and control emotion, +and to fight our own battles alone: in some ways +a good training, but liable in the long run to starve +the emotional nature. Masters at school in those +days did not “draw boys out”; education was +mainly a nipping of buds; older friends outside the +family, who may so often play a useful part in the +development of boy or girl life, never came—that +I remember—to the rescue; and so my abiding +recollection of all that time is one of silent concealment +and loneliness.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nevertheless of course there were joys. Though +a town-house is not a congenial nursery for a child, +yet we were comparatively fortunate. There was +a large space at the back, where we kept, in succession, +endless pets—pigeons, seagulls with clipped +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>wings, rabbits, tortoises, guinea-pigs, and smaller fry +(I was especially fond of an aquarium); while in +front was the large garden of Brunswick Square, +overrun, despite the efforts of the gardener and other +authorities, by all the children of the surrounding +houses. A fearfully active family, boys and girls, +we kept a sort of proud superiority over the other +children in running races, prisoners’ base, etc.; +while inside the house, and for wet weather, we +had a sport entirely our own, and which consisted +in one pursuing the others up the front stairs and +down the back stairs, or <i>vice versa</i>, with endless +shrieks and uproar—a terrible affair, which nothing +but the noblest self-sacrifice could have ever nerved +our parents to endure! Also there was hide-and-seek +in the dark, a grisly game, dangerous both to +limbs and to furniture; and occasionally a battle +of the giants—as when, on one occasion, an elder +sister having with the greatest care built up a beautiful +dummy man round a long smooth pole, my +eldest brother came on the sly and drew the backbone +out! Then there was earth-shaking conflict, +which I, quite a small boy, witnessed from a distance, +and with quaking limbs.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As to school life, I suppose it is a general experience +that what one learns at school does not +count for much. At the age of ten I began at the +Brighton College. My eldest sister had taught me +a little Latin grammar before that. My eldest brother +Charlie was already at the College. He was a kind +of hero there. At that time (or possibly a year +or two later) he was easily first in <i>everything</i>. In +mathematics, classics, foreign languages, in cricket, +football, athletics—no matter what it was—he took +all the prizes. Withal he was so friendly, so sociable, +that he was a universal favorite; so generous and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>so humorous—so naturally full of fun and comedy—that +I really think he disarmed all jealousy in +others—nor felt a spark of jealousy or vanity in +himself. Seldom I should think has there been such +a boy; and when at the age of nineteen or twenty +he took his final leave in order to join the Indian +Civil Service, his memory lingered long and long +behind him in the school.<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c012'><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>My reception under those circumstances was +naturally favorable. One day, shortly after my +arrival, I was playing by myself in a corner of +the entrance hall, when a big boy with a pleasant +face came up to me and, making a suitable gesture, +said, “Sweep up the Chips, sweep up the Chips.” +Then I knew that my nickname was Chips—a family +nickname indeed, since my father and my brothers +at different times bore it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The College was a large school of 150 or 200 +boys—on public school lines. I went through the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>classes in due order from the lowest upwards; and +the personality of each master in turn impressed +its unconscious weight upon me. I remember distinctly +the agonized effort and the triumph of passing +the “Asses’ Bridge” in Euclid. The name of the +master who got me over was Newton, and for some +years I firmly believed that he was no other than +the celebrated Sir Isaac. I joined in the games and +athletics—and not without success, though I was +never very partial to cricket; I climbed slowly up +through the classes; I rubbed shoulders with all +the queer, red-haired, pock-marked, fat, lean, mean, +generous, handsome, clever, tyrannical, cross-eyed, +gentle, good-natured, specimens of fellow humanity—the +other boys—whose influence on one at that +age is so strange and incalculable, and whose characters +and deeds appear at the time so mysterious +and inexplicable; though when one looks back upon +them at a later date, they seem transparently clear +and simple. I cannot remember anything very +heroic that I did, though I can remember some +mean things. I remember joining with the others +in teasing the French master—that ever defenceless +quarry; and I remember what was much worse, +taking a kind of delight in privately tormenting an +idiot boy. That was indeed a strange experience. +I don’t know why the boy was allowed in the school; +he was certainly quite weak-minded and incapable; +and besides there exhaled from him an odd and fearsome +odour. That boy convulsed me with alternate +rage and pity. At one moment I was seized with +the greatest sympathy for his weakness, and the +next I was filled with wrath at his odour and his +idiocy, and found or invented excuses for slapping +him! Then after that I would sometimes lie awake +at night remorseful over my conduct, and planning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>little schemes of reparation; but in the morning +the sight of him would launch me on the waves of +irritation again. It was quite a little tragedy to +me—and I mention it because this savage and instinctive +dislike of anything malformed, which is so +very marked in boys, no doubt accounts for much +of their cruelty. It remains in the mind of course +to a much later age, but is gradually covered over +by the growth of sympathy and understanding. As +a rule my better deeds were done in defence of the +weak. Timid for the most part, I regained my +courage on these occasions—as in delivering a small +boy from a big bully; or once in sticking up for +two brothers, the dirtiest and most stupid boys in +the class, against the gibes of the master; or another +time in helping a poor man in the street with his +bundle—on which last occasion the said Sir Isaac +Newton passing by, instead of scolding me as I +expected, actually said, “That’s right, my boy”—a +remark for which I felt ever so grateful to him—for +indeed I was feeling rather ashamed of myself.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I think that was about the only occasion on which +a master exercised any directly helpful influence. +Schools were odd places in those days. The idea +of really reaching the boy and drawing out his interest +seems never to have occurred to the masters. +When I arrived in the Sixth Form, the Headmaster +was a certain Dr. Griffith—a burly, headstrong, +muddle-headed, perhaps rather good-natured man. +As often as not he would arrive in the class-room +late, with his hair a-tumble, and looking as if he +had not slept all night, would complain that some +naughty boy in the Fourth Form was preoccupying +his mind, and would leave us again alone with our +books. Then presently his study door would open, +and he would push the said boy into the room, saying, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>“I wish one of you gentlemen would <i>cane</i> this +boy,” and throwing a cane in over the boy’s head +would close the door again. Once, drawing a handful +of silver and gold out of his pocket, he asked me +to cane a boy for him—and afterwards I felt sorry +I had not accepted the bargain. I think he must +have been a little touched in the head. It is certainly +aggravating to think that we used to read Homer +and Virgil and the Greek plays, and <i>never</i> that I +remember was any attempt made to make us understand +the subject or the plot or the literary interest +of these works—nothing but grammar and syntax. +As to mathematics the neglect was worse—and I +left school at eighteen or nineteen having done +nothing beyond Euclid and Algebra.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My record in the classes was on the whole, I +suppose, good—though nothing remarkable. I +gained the usual number of prizes, and kept about +an equal interest in classics and mathematics. With +regard to the former, my father—who had progressive +ideas on such subjects—gave me a word for +word <i>crib</i> to Horace, saying that the best way to +learn a language was to use such a crib. Naturally +after that I rejoiced in it freely in my preparation-work +at home of an evening. But one day I could +not resist taking it to school and showing it to some +of my class-mates. Of course we were pounced +upon, and the crib confiscated. The form-master +at that time was E. C. Hawkins—a really fine type +of man, father of Anthony Hope Hawkins the novelist. +But when he asked me where I got the crib from, and +I replied quite truthfully and simply “My father gave +it me,” he was struck dumb! He certainly thought +I was lying, but could make no reply. And for a +long time after that would hardly speak to me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Cricket I never took to much. Being a bad player +<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>I voted it ‘slow.’ Probably it gave too much rope +to my dreamy tendencies, and I got into trouble +missing unexpected catches. But hockey and football +I was fond of, and fives, as being more lively.</p> + +<p class='c011'>When I was about thirteen an event important to +us children happened, which I must not pass by. My +parents determined to spend a year in France, and +they actually transported the whole household, nine +children (i.e. all except my brother Charlie) and +two servants, to Versailles. I remember only too +well that awful night journey by Newhaven and +Dieppe, the raging sea, the arrival drenched, the +dim lights of the Customhouse, the cries of lost +children, the journey by train to Paris and onwards. +How my mother survived it I do not know. We +settled in a house in the Avenue de Sceaux, amid +barracks, and continual fanfaronades and trampings +of military, near the great Palace with its endless +galleries, and the Park with its fountains and music. +All very exciting and delightful. And we found +some good and friendly French neighbours. At first +they did not the least understand our household. It +never occurred to them for a moment that it was all +one family, and for some time it was supposed that +my father and mother kept a school! But when the +truth at last dawned upon them, their delight and +amazement knew no bounds, and we became the +centre of the greatest interest. I and my younger +brother, Alfred, went as day-boys to school at the +Lycée Hoche (then Imperiale)—a great place of five +hundred boys—where we learned French by sheer +necessity. I do not think we learned much else. +In the matter of lessons the instruction was much on +a par with that at the Brighton school, and the playground +life and social organization of the boys were +far less pregnant of good influences.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>I don’t know how the Lycées are now, but at that +time the school methods were only poor. The boys +sat an outrageously long time at their desks—ten +hours a day or more—either construing or preparing +lessons; but got through very little work, spending +most of their time in furtive games or conversations +with each other. Everything was done in set and +military style—marchings along corridors from class-room +to class-room, or from class-room to refectory, +or from refectory to playground. In the latter a +master (always called ‘pion’) was present to see +that there was no bullying, or to disperse knots of +boys (who might of course be talking sedition) or +to prevent individuals approaching the playground +wall within a set distance (lest they should escape). +The games were limited and regulated. Everything +was regulated. It was said that the Minister of +Education at Paris could at any hour of the day +place his finger on the line of Virgil that was being +translated, or the proposition of Geometry that was +being proved at that moment in all the Lycées alike +over the face of the land. One very curious custom +prevailed, which has probably now gone out of date, +but which had a strong suggestion about it of the +Church system of Indulgences. At the end of the +week the marks gained by each boy during the week +were added up and announced by the master. Then +those boys who were credited with more than a +certain number of marks were told they might write +out for themselves a certificate of satisfaction, good +for exemption from one, two, or even three hours’ +punishment, according to circumstances! Great excitement +prevailed. You cut yourself a neat square +of paper, adorned it with lines and flourishes, and +inscribed on it “<span lang="fr">Témoignage de Satisfaction—Elève +Carpenter—bonne à une heure</span>”—and left a space +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>at foot for the signature of the master. When signed +you treasured this up in your desk—and at some +later date when the hour of punishment came, produced +it, and unless your crime was very heinous +were duly let off! It was a curious arrangement, +but one which had perhaps the advantage of discouraging +a boy from being <i>too</i> good—since obviously +it would be a mistake to collect a greater number +of such tickets than you were likely to make use of.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My brother and I, as day-boys, escaped a good +deal of the general school routine and regulation, +and on the whole had not a bad time. The boys +received us decently, and as we could play leap-frog +or prisoners’ base (Les Barres) as well as any of +them, paid us due respect; and one of the masters, +Llandais by name, was quite kind and thoughtful +towards me. Out of hours we careered through the +woods of Satory, watched military evolutions on the +plain above, or at dusk chased and caught the great +stag-beetles—a thrilling joy. We wandered through +the huge statue-adorned Park and the shady Bosquets +of diamond-necklace celebrity, and learned +swimming—as did also my sisters—in the fine open-air +swimming bath, which used to be the bath of +the pages of Louis XIV’s Court. After a year thus +spent, the family returned to England, and we boys +to the Brighton College.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I say, it is probably a common experience that +mere school teaching does not leave a very deep +impression. Probably a good deal really <i>is</i> learned—but +these are the more indirect things which slip +into the background or foundation of the mind and +character and so pass comparatively unobserved. +Only three or four subjects of interest stand out +in my memory as belonging to my school-days, and +these all lay outside school proper. The earliest of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>these was music. At the age of ten I desired mightily +to learn the piano; but music was not considered +appropriate for a boy—besides there were six sisters +who had to be taught, poor things, whether they +liked it or not—and so my appearance on the music +stool was treated rather as an intrusion, and I was +generally hustled off again forthwith. However I +got my way by playing late of an evening, when they +were all upstairs in the drawing-room; I never +had any regular teaching, but my mother took pity +on me and taught me my notes; and from that time +I stumbled through the “Marche des Croates” and +the “Nun’s Prayer” till at last I emerged on the +far borderland of Beethoven’s Sonatas. This hour +of piano practice to myself was for a long time +one of the chief events of my day. Indeed, it is +curious, but I took to composing, or attempting to +compose, music before ever I thought of composing +or attempting to compose poetry. Of course with a +juvenile mind, and no musical training, nor even a +particularly keen ear, my compositions were of no +value, and I hardly ever troubled to write them out; +still the habit of making up pianoforte pieces, and +the love of doing so, continued all my life, and forced +its way out from time to time. It is only in quite +late years that, with more technical knowledge, I +have written some of these down—perhaps twelve or +twenty in all—and even occasionally thought of +printing them.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I was also fortunate enough, when I was about +fifteen, to come in for the reversion of a cupboard +full of chemical apparatus, which had belonged to +my eldest brother, and here in a little room with +retorts and test-tubes I spent many a half-holiday, +carrying out important experiments and prosecuting +valuable inventions, which ended almost invariably +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>in bad smells and worse headaches. Perpetual +motion, as usual in such cases, was one of my chief +objects; and I could not for the life of me tell why +a solid cylinder of wood, placed with its axis horizontal +in the side of a box containing water, and +so carefully fitted that it would turn on its axis +without allowing the water to run out, would not +revolve perpetually—seeing indeed that the one half +of it which was in the water, being lighter than +water, would continually tend to rise, and the other +half of it which was in the air would continually +tend to fall. I invented an arrangement for the +pianoforte after the Morse telegraphic system, by +which extemporaneous effusions could be written +down in the act of playing—an invention which +luckily has not been generally adopted; and was +engaged on various other little patents at different +times. Sometimes I gave a lecture—though it must +be confessed that it was with difficulty that any of +the household could be induced to attend! The +lecture was small, but the danger from explosions +and horrible smells was great. My remarks were +not very lucid or explanatory, but consisted mainly +of expressions like “Now I will show you something +else” or “You needn’t be frightened, there is no +danger.” These investigations were however very +absorbing and excited far more interest in my mind +than anything I learned at school; and I remember +that they led me to think quite seriously about being +a doctor (I suppose from some vague notion about +the connection between chemicals and medicine)—a +profession which my father was inclined to recommend +to me, and which I have sometimes regretted +that I did not adopt.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Towards the later part of my time at Brighton +the natural <i>épanchement</i> of youth led me often to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>seek consolation and an escape from the wounds of +daily life in intercourse with Nature. The Brighton +social life—with its greetings where no kindness is—was +to me chilly in the extreme, and I often used +in later years to feel that I “caught cold” (morally +speaking) whenever I returned to it. The scenery +and surroundings of Brighton are also bare and +chilly enough; and trees, whose friendly covert I +have always loved, do not exist there; but the place +has two Nature-elements in it—and these two singularly +wild and untampered—the Sea and the Downs. +We lived within two hundred yards of the sea, and +its voice was in our ears night and day. On terrific +stormy nights it was a “grisly joy” to go down +to the water’s edge at 10 or 11 p.m.—pitchy darkness—feeling +one’s way with feet or hands, over the +stony beach, hardly able to stand for the wind—and +to watch the white breakers suddenly leap out of +the gulf close upon one—the “scream of the +madden’d beach dragged down by the wave,” the +booming of the wind, like distant guns, and the +occasional light of some vessel laboring for its life +in the surge.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But the Downs were my favorite refuge. On +sunny days I would wander on over them for miles, +not knowing very clearly where I was going—in a +strange broody moony state—glad to find some hollow +(like that described in Jefferies’ <cite>Story of my Heart</cite>) +where one could lie secluded for any length of time +and see only the clouds and the grasses and an occasional +butterfly, or hear the distant bark of a dog +or the far rumble of a railway train. The Downs +twined themselves with all my thought and speculations +of that time. Their chaste subdued gracious +outlines and quiet colour have a peculiar charm. +Their strongest line is generally some white edge +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>of cliffs or curve of the shore itself, their deepest +tint the blue of the sea or occasionally a field of +red clover or one overgrown with charlock. For +the rest they wear the faint blue-green colour of thin +turf through which the chalk almost shows. Over +the velvety sward and among the fine herbage +cropped by plentiful sheep run innumerable tiny +flowers dwarfed by salt wind and scanty soil—thistles, +whose chins rest on the ground out of which they +grow; patches of sweet thyme which the wild bees +love, of pink centaury and thrift and madder and +dwarf-broom, and that sweet yellow lotus or bird’s-foot +trefoil, which runs all over the world, in Siberia +and Alps and Himalayas the same, one of the commonest +and friendliest of all the flowers that grow. +Overhead the lark sings, the clouds drift through +the untampered blue, the bee and the butterfly sweep +past on the breeze. Three or four miles from +Brighton, and one is in a world remote from man. +Except an occasional shepherd there is hardly a +human to be seen. Here and there in a hollow +nestles the tiniest hamlet—an old farmhouse, one or +two cottages, a dwarf church faced with rough work +of flints, a few trees and a well. Taking its character +from the sky—as all chalk and limestone countries +largely do—this land has an ethereal beauty +in summer weather; but on wintry and gray days +it is monotonous and sad. The shepherd then huddles +himself in his cloak in the lee of the gorse-bush, the +cloudy rack drives over the backs of his sheep, line +behind line the Downs stretch, colorless, unbroken +by any hint of tree or habitation; the wind whistles +among the thin grass stems with a peculiar shrill +and mournful pipe, and in its pauses the sullen and +distant roar of the sea is heard.</p> + +<p class='c011'>How can I describe, how shall I not recall, the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>thoughts which came to me as I wandered, towards +the close of my school time, over these same hills—the +brooding ill-defined, half-shapen thoughts? The +Downs were my escape; even in their most chill and +lonely moods they were my escape from a worse coldness +and loneliness, which, except for a few boyfriends +at school, I somehow experienced during all +that time. Nature was more to me, I believe, than +any human attachment, and the Downs were my +Nature. It was among them at a later time that I +first began to write a few verses. But at the time +I mention, and till quite the end of my school days, I +never wrote anything at all. If the thought of writing +had occurred to me I should have deemed it, in my +then state of mind, monstrous presumption—but I +doubt whether the thought ever did occur to me. +I did not even read poetry. Mozart and Beethoven +were familiar to me, but I must have been eighteen +years old before I was roused to any interest in +Tennyson (the poet of the day) by a lecture at +school on “In Memoriam.” After that I read “In +Memoriam” and loved it well. This was followed +(at Cambridge) by Wordsworth; and then by +Shelley, who excited in me the same passionate +attachment that he has excited in so many others. +After that Whitman dominated me. I do not think +any others of the poets—unless Plato should bear +that name—have deeply influenced me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As to friends—that absorbing subject—I can trace +the desire for a passionate attachment in my earliest +boyhood. But the desire had no expression, no +chance of expression. Such things as affection were +never spoken about either at home or at school, and +I naturally concluded that there was no room for +them in the scheme of creation! The glutinous boyfriendships +that one formed in class-room or playground +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>were of the usual type: they staved off a +greater hunger, but they did not satisfy. On the +other hand I worshipped the very ground on which +some, generally elder, boys stood; they were heroes +for whom I would have done anything. I dreamed +about them at night, absorbed them with my eyes +in the day, watched them at cricket, loved to press +against them unnoticed in a football melly, or even +to get accidentally hurt by one of them at hockey, +was glad if they just spoke to me or smiled; but +never got a word farther with it all. What could I +say? Even to one of the masters, I remember, who +was a little kind to me, I felt this unworded devotion; +but he never helped me over the stile, and so I +remained on the farther side.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I often think what a fund of romance, and of +intense feeling, there is in this direction latent in +so many boys and capable even of heroic expression—and +how much will have to be done some day in +the matter of directing and giving a constructive +outlet to it. Already however there is a great difference +in the tone of the public schools themselves on +this subject, from what there was twenty-five or +thirty years ago. The trouble in schools from bad +sexual habits and frivolities arises greatly—though +of course not altogether—from the suppression and +misdirection of the natural emotions of boy-attachment. +I, as a day boy, and one who happened to be +rather pure-minded than otherwise, grew up quite +free from these evils: though possibly it would have +been a good thing if I had had a little more experience +of them than I had. As it was, no elder person +<i>ever</i> spoke to me about sexual matters—no mother, +father, brother, monitor or master ever said a word. +I picked up the usual information from the talk of +my companions, and made up my own mind +<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>unbiased by any person or book. I suppose it was in +consequence of this that I never saw anything repellent +or shameful in sexual acts themselves. From +the earliest time when I thought about these things +they seemed to me natural—like digestion or any +other function—and I remember wondering why +people made such a fuss about the mention of them—why +they told lies rather than speak the truth, why +they were shocked, or why they giggled and stuffed +handkerchiefs in their mouths. It was not till (at +the age of twenty-five) I read Whitman—and then +with a great leap of joy—that I met with the treatment +of sex which accorded with my own sentiments.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nevertheless though these desires were never to +me unclean, yet during all that time of later boyhood +and early university life they were strangely discounted +by that other desire of the heart. I could +not think much of sex while the hunger of the +heart was unsatisfied—and <i>that</i> for the time being +occupied all the foreground of my life. Indeed at +times it threatened to paralyse my mental and +physical faculties. It was like an open wound continually +bleeding. I felt starved and unfed, and +unable to rest in the chilling contacts of ordinary +life. As to the usual attractions set before the eyes +of middle-class youth, the hopeless, helpless young +ladyisms, or the bolder beauties of the gutter, they +were both a detestable boredom to me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For indeed the life, and with it the character, of +the ordinary “young lady” of that period, and of +the sixties generally, was tragic in its emptiness. +The little household duties for women, encouraged +in an earlier and simpler age, had now gone out of +date, while the modern idea of work in the great +world was not so much as thought of. In a place +like Brighton there were hundreds, perhaps, of households, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>in which girls were growing up with but one +idea in life, that of taking their “proper place in +society.” A few meagre accomplishments—plentiful +balls and dinner-parties, theatres and concerts—and +to loaf up and down the parade, criticizing each +other, were the means to bring about this desirable +result! There was absolutely nothing else to do or +live for. It is curious—but it shows the state of +public opinion of that time—to think that my father, +who was certainly quite advanced in his ideas, never +for a moment contemplated that any of his daughters +should learn professional work with a view to their +living—and that in consequence he more than once +drove himself quite ill with worry. Occasionally it +happened that, after a restless night of anxiety over +some failure among his investments, and of dread +lest he should not be able at his death to leave the +girls a competent income, he would come down to +breakfast looking a picture of misery. After a time +he would break out. “Ruin impended over the +family,” securities were falling, dividends disappearing; +there was only one conclusion—“the girls +would have to go out as governesses.” Then silence +and gloom would descend on the household. It +was true; that was the only resource. There was +only one profession possible for a middle-class woman—to +be a governess—and to adopt that was to become +a <i>pariah</i>. But in a little time affairs would brighten +up again. Stocks went up, the domestic panic subsided; +and dinner-parties and balls were resumed +as usual.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As time went by, and I gradually got to know what +life really meant, and to realize the situation, it used +to make me intensely miserable to return home and +see what was going on there. My parents of course +were fully occupied, but for the rest there were six +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>or seven servants in the house, and my six sisters had +absolutely nothing to do except dabble in paints +and music as aforesaid, and wander aimlessly from +room to room to see if by any chance “anything +was going on.” Dusting, cooking, sewing, darning—all +light household duties were already forestalled; +there was no private garden, and if there had been +it would have been “unladylike” to do anything +in it; <i>every</i> girl could not find an absorbing interest +in sol-fa or water-colours; athletics were not invented; +every aspiration and outlet, except in the +direction of dress and dancing, was blocked; and +marriage, with the growing scarcity of men, was +becoming every day less likely, or easy to compass. +More than once girls of whom I least expected it +told me that their lives were miserable “with nothing +on earth to do.” Multiply this picture by thousands +and hundreds of thousands all over the country, and +it is easy to see how, when the causes of the misery +were understood, it led to the powerful growth of +the modern “Women’s Movement.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>During my school-days, however, this tragedy had, +so far as our household was concerned, hardly developed +itself, or at any rate become at all serious; +and a charming recollection of that period is that +of my companionship with two of my elder sisters. +With one of these—my sister Ellen, afterwards Mrs. +Hyett—I used to go long country walks. She had +an eye for landscape and animal painting, and sometimes +brought her sketch-book with her. Occasionally +on hired hacks we rode together over the Downs. +Her mind had an adventurous outdoor quality about +it; and our conversation turned mainly on what we +saw on our explorations, and on speculations about +foreign lands. The other sister (Lizzie, afterwards +Lady Daubeney) was never much of a walker; but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>she stayed at home and played Beethoven’s Sonatas, +and these were a continual delight to me. I stood +quietly by and turned over the pages by the hour. The +“Sonata Appassionata” was a dream of wonder. +This sister had a highly poetic, sensitive temperament. +When the younger ones of the family were children +she told us absorbing fairy-tales. At the time I +speak of she was the one in the household who gave +to the atmosphere a touch of sympathy, tenderness +and romance; which was of priceless value. As +my mind expanded we even talked a little poetic +philosophy together, and discussed Tennyson and +Shakespeare.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My younger brother, Alfred, who was my schoolfellow +at the Lycée at Versailles, went to the Brighton +College with me (I joining for the second time) +when the family returned to Brighton in 1858. But +at an early age (fourteen) he joined the Navy, and +after a preliminary year on board the <i>Britannia</i> +training-ship, went away to sea. Consequently he +was not so much at home during those early years. +The sea-life suited him, I think. With a rather +dare-devil temperament as a boy he was always +getting into scrapes at school. [Once, I remember, +he had the brilliant idea of lighting a fire in his +locker in the schoolroom, and then sitting, all innocence, +on the seat—until the crackling of sticks and +the curling smoke drew all eyes that way, and he was +discovered like the phœnix in apparent peril of being +consumed!] In the Navy, at an early period, he +distinguished himself by saving life under risky circumstances. +In one case a man had fallen overboard +at night in the Tagus from another ship, and in the +darkness was being swept by the current seawards +past the <i>Warrior</i>, on which ship my brother was—when +the latter, who was on deck at the time, jumped +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>in to the rescue, at the same time calling to some +of the bluejackets to man a boat and follow. Of +course he and the drowning man were immediately +lost to sight in the gloom, and when the boat did +get under weigh it was only by his distant shouts +that its crew could be guided. The two men had +drifted half a mile or more before they were picked +up; but it was not too late, and their rescue was +safely effected. In another case off the Falkland +Isles he swam to the rescue of an ordinary seaman +under even more perilous conditions, and for this +act gained the Albert medal—which may be called +the V.C. of life-saving medals.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At a later period [1875–76] my brother Alfred was +lieutenant on board H.M.S. <i>Challenger</i>, and it was +under his management that the deepest sounding +effected up to that period was taken. He obtained +4,475 fathoms, or nearly 27,000 feet in the vicinity +of the Ladrone Islands. After the <i>Challenger</i> he +had several commands in China and elsewhere, including +charge of the Marine Survey of India; and +as commander of the <i>Investigator</i> he spent several +years surveying and making charts of the coasts of +India and the Andaman Islands. In 1885, in connection +with the Burmese expedition against King +Thebaw, the important duty was assigned to him of +leading the War Flotilla up the river Irrawaddy. +As an officer he was well liked, being considerate +of the men under him, but firm in their management, +and in moments of danger plucky and reliable.<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c012'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>In later years he published not a few papers on +nautical and astronomical matters, and in 1915 a +more popular illustrated handbook for travellers, entitled +<cite>Nature Notes for Ocean Voyagers</cite> (Griffin, 5s.).</p> + +<p class='c006'>Such, roughly summed together, are the main outlines +of my early days—full after all of tenderest +recollections. A large family is a roughish training +school, but it is a valuable one. Over-sensitive and +of a clinging disposition by nature, I early learned +the profound lessons of suffering and of self-dependence. +My spirit concentrated itself, and partially +overcame its inherent vagueness and weakness in +years of silence. The tension of those early days, the +unexpressed hatred which I felt, though I did not +understand it, for the social conditions in which I +was born, was destined, when its meaning gradually +realized itself in my consciousness, to become one +of the great directing forces of my after life.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span> + <h2 class='c005'>II<br> MY PARENTS</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>My father (born in 1797) had a curious early life. +He came of a family which had lived in Cornwall +(Launceston) for some generations. He was the +eldest son—though he had three sisters—of an +Admiral in the Navy, and appears to have taken to +his father’s profession, when a boy, as a matter of +course. He was not, however, at all suited to it, for +he was of a rather studious temperament, and the +rough life of the Navy of those days was probably +very distasteful to him. He was in one or two +skirmishes with the French off the American coast, +and I remember his telling me of the painful feeling +which he experienced once when being in a small +boat and coming across some French sailors in +another small boat he had to take aim and fire +at them. To his relief, however, no one was hurt!</p> + +<div id='i039' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i039.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>MY FATHER: CHARLES CARPENTER.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>When he was twenty-three or twenty-four my father +began to learn German and read philosophy in his +spare hours, which did not look as though he were +destined to remain long on board ship! As a matter +of fact he left the Navy when he was about twenty-five. +The bad climate of Trincomalee, where he was +stationed for two years, damaged his health. He +came to London and set about reading for the +Chancery Bar. In due course he was called and for +some years practised with success—so much so indeed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>that on his retirement he was greatly complimented +by the presiding judge. In 1833 he married; and +this it was which, curiously enough, led to his retirement +from the Bar. For his father-in-law—Thomas +Wilson—who had also been in the Navy, and who was +then a widower, only consented to the marriage on +condition that his daughter should remain at home, +and that the married couple should therefore take +up their abode at his house at Walthamstow. This +they did, and the distance from London, a considerable +matter in those days, combined perhaps +with a little anxiety about my father’s health, which +still remained unsatisfactory, brought about the abandonment +of his profession—a great mistake as it +appeared, for of course as soon as he lost his regular +occupation he began to worry badly. Then, when +Mr. Wilson died, in 1843, a move to Brighton (which +just then was growing into importance, and yet +retained some of its old-world character) was thought +advisable, both for my father’s sake and for that +of the little family which now had to be considered. +But as far as my father was concerned this did not +mend matters, and my mother has often told me that +this was the worst period of their married life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He got more and more anxious and restless—to +a degree which seemed almost a danger to his mind—till +at last my mother induced him to let himself be +appointed magistrate and take his seat on the +Brighton bench; after which his serenity returned, +and he remained one of the most active and probably +the most public spirited of the members of the +Brighton and afterwards of the Hove magistracy till +a year or two before his death. The death of his +own father in 1846 freed him from any real cause +for pecuniary anxiety—though from time to time all +through his later life he was liable to fits of considerable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>depression and nervousness about his monetary +concerns. He settled down permanently at Brighton +(No. 45 Brunswick Square) into the life of the +respectable <i>rentier</i>, with its usual aims and ideals as +far as his family was concerned, though for himself +his aims were very different from those of the society +round him, and his conception of life was as broad +as it could well be upon the foundation of that particular +social status to which he belonged.</p> + +<p class='c011'>His early life in the Navy had given my father that +honest, somewhat simple, cast of mind which belongs +to sea-faring folk. He was always ready to be +impressed by a tale of distress—especially if it came +from the lips of one of the fair sex. At the same +time his active brain had carried him far in most +fields of thought. Though having a strong religious +feeling, he soon emancipated himself from current +orthodoxies in religion, and seldom in later life went +to church—a fact which to the mild respectabilities +around us was a sufficient justification for calling +him an Atheist. For Frederick W. Robertson, who +was then preaching at Brighton, and who not unfrequently +came to our house, and for Frederick D. +Maurice, however, he had a great admiration; and +his own views were—as far as I remember what he +said when I was a boy—a kind of Broad Church +mysticism, derived at first from reading S. T. +Coleridge (whom he had met occasionally in former +years in London), and gradually broadening out under +the influence of Eckhardt, Tauler, Kant, Fichte, Hegel +and others into a religious and philosophic mysticism +without much admixture of the Broad Church at all.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In politics he was a strong Liberal—indeed in +his most active period a philosophic Radical of the +Mill school, and gave strong support to Henry +Fawcett during the time when the latter represented +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>Brighton. Though occasionally asked to stand himself +he never as far as I know felt inclined to do so, +and indeed a certain lack of glibness and difficulty +of expression which he experienced always made him +disinclined from taking part in any kind of public +speechifying. In his quite latest years he veered +round to the support of Beaconsfield’s Government; +but this, if partly due to the reactionary tendency +of old age, was also caused by his keen perception +of the hypocrisy (unconscious or otherwise) of Gladstone, +whom in the last few years of his life he never +ceased to vilify.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Almost all general literature interested my father—especially +works on natural history, travels, and +science of any kind; but art and music were never +much in his line. Any tale of heroism, or prodigy +of science would bring ready tears to his eyes; and +his love of reading—as in the case of his own father—lasted +to the latest years of his life; for when he +was over eighty years of age he would not unfrequently +sit up till one or two in the morning, conning +the last new book or running over favorite passages +of his philosophical authors.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In a letter of his (written in ’73) I find the following +passage: “Circumstances have been leading me +to think a good deal lately about Instinct. I do not +see how any distinction can be drawn between what we +call Instinct in the lower animals—such as the insect +when she deposits eggs and then brings to the place +of deposit the food needful for the support of her +offspring grub, and covering them up (eggs and food) +together, flies away to perish—and that power in +Plants that causes them to send forth their roots +often to a great distance and in a special direction, +in search of the material needful for their nutriment, +the mineral perhaps without which they could not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>live. This can only be understood, as it seems to +me, upon the assumption of there being a Life, an +intelligent Life, in the Plant or Insect, of which +they are unconscious. Think of the Swallow going +to Egypt perhaps, and then at proper season returning +to its old nest under the eaves of some cottage in +England. The possession of sense-organs, therefore, +does not expel from the Bird or Fish this Intelligent +Life within them, which orders their migrations, +etc., but of which they are unconscious. And why +should it be otherwise with man? That he should +be conscious of this life will one day be his highest +blessing.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>And in another letter (of 1876): “Surely the true +meaning of Nirvana is that at some future stage +of our being man will be so conscious of the indwelling +and inworking of Deity, that he will ascribe +every movement, whether of his body or mind, to +the One Will, the One <i>Vernunft</i>, the One Life, and +thus think of himself as swallowed up by and +absorbed, as it were, in that Being.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>These extracts will show what a priceless debt +I owe to the early contact with his mind.</p> + +<p class='c006'>How strange and far-back all that early life seems +now—and yet so vivid—I can see it all in brightest +detail! Of an evening, after dinner or supper, how +we sat round the drawing-room table, or in scattered +chairs, reading. My father would get out his Fichte +or his Hartmann and soon become lost in their +perusal. Occasionally he would, when he came to +a striking passage, play a sort of devil’s tattoo with +his fingers on the table, or, getting up, would walk +to and fro quarter-deck fashion, with creaky boots, +and reciting his authors to himself. Then my mother +or perhaps my eldest sister would remonstrate, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>after a time he would settle down again. Sometimes +if he was very quiet one might look up from one’s +book and see from his upturned eyes and half-open +lips that he had lapsed into inner communion and +meditation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>His was a very religious nature, and it was his +habit to think of the divinity as clearly present—as +he would say: “When I am taking my bath +or even when I am breathing I say to myself, ‘This +is God working within and around me.’” In later +years, however, his liability to extreme worry and +anxiety would return; and there were times when +even his books failed to save him from the sleepless +nights and despondent days occasioned by the +failure or possible failure of some Stock Exchange +speculation. At such times reports of railway companies, +maps, gazetteers, newspaper cuttings, etc., +were got out and studied and restudied; I was called +in to take part in the investigations (“put in the +stocks” as I used to call it), and had to sit up till +the small hours of the morning in attitudes of painful +suspense and tension. The troubles, however, would +pass away in due time, and on the whole my father +was (owing chiefly to the care and thought he gave +to them) very successful over his “investments.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>The rest of the family spent the evening, as a +rule, in reading—of which we were all fond. My +sisters would play or sing a little; and when they +ceased, the sound of the near sea would reassert itself, +or the roaring of the wind in the chimney. My +mother sat on a low chair, with a book on her knee +and some knitting in her hands, but occasionally, +tired with the work of the day, would drop asleep; +at ten o’clock the servant brought up wine and +biscuits, and shortly afterwards we would all—except +my father—retire.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>Of my mother’s life how can I say anything? +That which is so vital to one, so intimate, how can +one disengage it from oneself? There was an +unspoken tragedy in those beautiful gazelle-like eyes—the +tragedy as of dumbness itself. The tender +loving spirit which beamed forth from them never +found direct utterance in this world. It was the look +of a prisoner. Her mother was a Scotchwoman. A +baneful parental influence—Scottish pride and puritanism—had +rested on my mother’s young life, making +all expression of tender feeling little short of a sin; +and this reserve, inculcated in youth, became in later +days involuntary and inevitable. My mother had a +sister to whom she was much attached, but who had +offended my grandmother by marrying a man who +was considered undesirable. The sister was never +forgiven, nor even acknowledged again. She died +soon after her marriage; and her death, with all the +accompanying circumstances, was a great blow to +my mother; but of it—as of other things which +touched her nearly—she would never speak.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Her nature was not so much intellectual or imaginative +as practical and prompt to act, with a kingly +sense of duty and courage. Her life was one long +self-sacrifice—first to her parents, then to her husband +and children. All day and much of the night, without +haste and without rest, she went about the house +attending to our young wants, to my father’s comfort, +and to the organization of a large household—wearing +herself daily to a thinner and slighter frame, +which even in age seemed by this means to maintain +its activity—till at last when her children were grown +up, and her husband’s growing infirmities demanded +the services of a trained nurse, there came upon +her the grievous sense—not the less grievous because +wholly unwarranted—that she was “no longer +<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>of any use in the world.” Twice, I remember, +she repeated these fatal words; and then, not long +after, a brief attack of bronchitis parted easily the +thread of life, already worn so fine. The manner of +her death was as heroic as that of her life, with +thought in lucid intervals for all around her, servants, +and everybody in the house; and with closing smile, +and words of calm, “All is as it should be.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>When my mother died (in January 1881) my +father—who had been for the most part absorbed +in business or philosophic speculations, and who had +given indeed too little time to personal matters—suddenly +became aware of the greatness of the loss +he had sustained. He woke up from dreamland +when it was too late. My mother’s silent and untiring +forethought had unconsciously to himself been the +great support and directing power of his life; and +now he ceased not to say, “The mainspring is broken, +the mainspring is broken.” His infirmities, which +at eighty-three years of age were the natural ills +of senile decay, rapidly gained upon him, and a year +afterwards, in April 1882, he died and was laid in +the same grave with her—in Hove cemetery, between +the sea and the Downs, close to the little church to +which, years before, we as children had trudged with +these our parents every Sunday by the fields and footpaths +which then separated the village of Hove from +the growing West of Brighton.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My mother had very gracious manners, of gently-smiling +dignity, yet her inflexible sense of truth and +justice—inflexible especially as regards her own life +and conduct—was easily apparent beneath the gentle +exterior. Her ideas of social demarcation, etc., were +of course of the old school; and she looked upon +it quite as a duty to keep up a certain position in +society—as the phrase is. Indeed, though much of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the social life of Brighton was in reality irksome +to her, I think that she never questioned the duty of +conforming to it. But then—unlike many modern +mistresses—she never questioned the duty of attending +to the wants of dependents; and her care for the +interests of the household servants, and others whom +misfortune might bring to her door, was most unfailing +and most sincere. The servants in fact were +as a rule much devoted to her—though she was by +no means lax in matters of discipline and daily +superintendence.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A great feature of my mother’s character was her +love of animals, especially dogs and horses. Outdoor +and garden occupations she was also fond of—and +I believe her natural inclination would have led +her to a rural life. But Brighton offered nothing in +this direction—and here again the promptings of her +nature were destined only to be thwarted.</p> +<div id='i049' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i049.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>MY MOTHER: SOPHIA WILSON CARPENTER (ABOUT 1864).</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span> + <h2 class='c005'>III<br> CAMBRIDGE</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>Between school and College days I went to Germany +for some months. I was already nineteen when +I left school, full old enough to go to College, but +it did not seem to be decided what was to become +of me. I inclined to go into Orders. Possibly my +father, dreading this, thought Heidelberg would be +an antidote! At any rate I could learn German +there. So off I went, lodged with a professor and +his Frau for five months, wandered through the woods +and over the hills of Heidelberg, heard Bunsen and +Kirchhoff lecture on Physics and Chemistry, attended +the English church on Sundays, and ate sausages +with the Professor and his friends on weekdays. +An odd secluded life, seeing but little of the Germans +and less of the English, what I chiefly remember +of it is those long moony rambles through the woods—not +very clearly thinking about anything that I +can make out, but wondering, and just waiting—and +every now and then chancing in some secluded +glade or gorgeous sunset scene upon something that +caught my breath and held me still. Indeed on one +occasion I perpetrated some rhymes in German about +the Neckar—the first verses that I ever wrote. The +Professor and his wife chaffed me about my odd +ways. I even wore a tall hat to the English church +on Sundays! He argued with me about the Bible +<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>and about the idiotic habits of my countrymen and +women. I resisted his arguments, but secretly they +touched me. Ultimately I gave up attending the +church, and became so disgusted with my tall hat +that when I returned to England I placed it in my +carpet-bag! So I learned something besides German +at Heidelberg.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then came Cambridge. When my father after +some hesitation consented to let me go to Cambridge, +and asked me which College I would prefer, I said +“Trinity Hall,” and for my reason that it was a +<i>gentlemanly</i> college. My father laughed, as he certainly +was justified in doing—and I can only wonder +now what sort of animal I was then. At any rate the +answer shows that notwithstanding all my sufferings +at Brighton I had not yet realized what was the true +cause of them. There were however other reasons for +my choice. One was that Romer, the last Senior +Wrangler, was a “Hall” man; the other was that +the same College was now Head of the River. Both +events had brought Trinity Hall into notice.</p> + +<p class='c011'>So thither I went, and found myself immediately +in the thick of a boating set. The whole College +was given up to boating. Not to row or help in the +rowing in some way or other was rank apostasy. A +few might read besides, and a few—a dozen or +two at most—did so. I boated and talked boating +slang; was made stroke of the second boat, and it +went down several places; became Secretary of the +Boat Club; and for two years wore out the seat of +my breeches and the cuticle beneath with incessant +aquatic service. At the end of that time I got sadly +bored with the business, and gave it up. Indeed I +was obliged to give it up; for reading pretty hard +for my degree, as I was later on, the two strains +together were too much, and my health was breaking +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>down. But so far perhaps boating had not been a +bad thing. It was healthy exercise, and brought +me in with healthy muscular companions who +bothered their heads about no abstruse problems, +and for the most part rarely read a book. Fives and +rackets too occupied some of my time; but in athletic +sports I was not so successful as I had been at school. +At Brighton I had been a good high-jumper, having +cleared 5 ft. 3 or 4, a good height in those days—but +at Cambridge, probably owing to the relaxing +quality of the air, I failed to make any mark. Thus, +with games and wine parties and boat suppers, life +slid easily onward.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Certainly nothing could be more unlike what I +had expected. I had imagined a university where +folk would talk Latin naturally and where I, lamely +taught at school and late coming from loafing in +Germany, would be an outcast and an object of contumely. +I found myself at the end of the first term +easily head of my year in the College examinations. +Myself and another. He, Yate, was the son of a +country doctor—keen on boating, but a fellow of +some originality and thought as well and of singular +gentleness and candour. A friendship sprang up between +us; and for the next year or two we were +always together. In examination honours (such as +they were) we were quits, and it was sincerely I +believe a matter of indifference to both of us which +might win the prize. Then he fell ill of rheumatic +fever, and ultimately died without taking his degree—my +first experience of loss of this kind.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Other friends of this period were Ernest Gray—a +very dear and affectionate creature who afterwards +became the Vicar and very fatherly pastor of a +country parish; Harry Spedding, son of Anthony +Spedding of Bassenthwaite, and nephew of James +<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>Spedding of Baconian fame; and Francis Hyett of +Painswick, who afterwards became my brother-in-law. +Harry Spedding was one of those extraordinary +beings who though quite unable to row himself +cherished an immense enthusiasm for boating. Long +and thin and weak-chested, hard work in the boats +would probably have been fatal to him, but on the +banks, running beside the boats and cheering the +crews in the races, his pluck and lively humour never +failed. Hyett did not take to the river, but kept +to racquets and his law-studies, and was really one +of the few undergraduates who took any interest in +political affairs. In later years he has done much +administrative and literary work in connection with +his own county.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In coming up to Cambridge it had never occurred +to me at the outset to go in for an honour degree; +my opinion of the university was too high for that. +But after a term or two the tutor to my surprise +seriously recommended me to read for the mathematical +tripos. I was of course frightfully behindhand +in my subjects, but I took a private ‘coach,’ +went through the routine of cram, and ultimately +obtained a fellowship.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Mathematics interested me and I read them with +a good deal of pleasure—but I have sometimes regretted +that three years of my life should have been—as +far as study was concerned—nearly entirely +absorbed by so special and on the whole so unfruitful +a subject. I think every boy (and girl) +ought to learn some Geometry and Mechanics; without +these the mind lacks form and definiteness, and +its grip on the external world is not as strong as +it should be; but the higher mathematics (certainly +as they are read at Cambridge) are for the most part +a mere gymnastic exercise unapplied to actual life +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>and facts, and easily liable to become unhealthy, as +all such exercises are.</p> + +<p class='c011'>After my degree, though retaining a certain general +interest in the subject, I never again opened a mathematical +book with the intention of seriously pursuing +its study. I worked however at one time on +“Taylor’s theorem” in the Differential Calculus, with +the object of finding a simpler and more direct +proof than Homersham Cox’s (the one usually +adopted). But not being able to complete the proof, +I handed it over to my friend Robert Muirhead, who +has adopted and worked it to its conclusion in a +contribution to the Proceedings of the Edinburgh +Mathematical Society (Vol. 12, Session 1893–4).</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was just about this time of my degree (and +curiously late) that my attention began to be turned +towards literary production. I had won as an undergraduate—and +to my surprise—two College prizes +for English Essays (one, by the way, on Civilization); +and shortly after my degree, in 1870, I was awarded +a university prize (the Burney), £100, for an essay +on “The Religious Influence of Art.” Meanwhile I +kept scribbling, just for my own satisfaction, quantities +of verse, very formless and incoherent—but +which formed an outlet for my own feelings in the +absence of any more tangible way of expressing them.</p> + +<p class='c011'>How well I remember going down, as I so frequently +did, alone to the riverside at night, amid +the hushed reserve and quiet grace of the old College +gardens, and pouring my little soul out to the silent +trees and clouds and waters! I don’t know what +kind of longing it was—something partly sexual, +partly religious, and both, owing to my strangely +slow-growing temperament, still very obscure and +undefined; but anyhow it was something that +brooded about and enveloped my life, and makes +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>those hours still stand out for me as the most pregnant +of my then existence.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Here are some verses (written in ’68) which I give +as a specimen of the kind of thought and the half-formed +emotional atmosphere in which I brooded, +as well as of their juvenile style.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O pale and wan with watching, starless night!</div> + <div class='line in4'>Far, far beyond thy cloudy banks</div> + <div class='line in4'>Pass and repass in serried ranks</div> + <div class='line'>The flaming watchfires of the infinite—</div> + <div class='line'>Gliding and streaming through the realm of space</div> + <div class='line in4'>In breathless adoration round</div> + <div class='line in4'>The burning throne whose base profound</div> + <div class='line'>Knoweth no resting-place.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>To thy deep silence through the moving years</div> + <div class='line in4'>Cometh no cry of misery,</div> + <div class='line in4'>No sound of all the things that be,</div> + <div class='line'>Upborne from this dark field of feverish tears;</div> + <div class='line'>But all the myriad worlds thou dost enfold</div> + <div class='line in4'>Move on before their Monarch hushed,</div> + <div class='line in4'>And, looking forth, my soul is crushed</div> + <div class='line'>Beneath a weight untold.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O great Humanity, that liest spread</div> + <div class='line in4'>Beneath the gaze of the sleepless night,</div> + <div class='line in4'>Who is there who will dare to fight</div> + <div class='line'>To raise the tresses of thy drooping head?</div> + <div class='line'>Who cares through the immensity of suns?</div> + <div class='line in4'>Which of the angels shall arise?</div> + <div class='line in4'>Oh! heavy and dark the burden lies</div> + <div class='line'>On all thy noblest ones.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Far off the morning stars may shout and sing,</div> + <div class='line in4'>For there is Love and Joy and Peace,</div> + <div class='line in4'>And Life—true life that cannot cease—</div> + <div class='line'>But here the ghastly shuddering of Death’s wing.</div> + <div class='line'>And here faint whispers only come to die</div> + <div class='line in4'>Upon the threshold of our hearts,</div> + <div class='line in4'>Voices at which the sad soul starts</div> + <div class='line'>With a half-uttered sigh.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>O hanging cloud, O scarcely stirring trees,</div> + <div class='line in4'>O velvet waters moved to sound</div> + <div class='line in4'>By the gliding fishes’ bound,</div> + <div class='line'>O Willow, whispering to the fitful breeze,</div> + <div class='line'>O gentle touch of the sweet summer air,</div> + <div class='line in4'>O solitary owl, alone,</div> + <div class='line in4'>Nursing thy joy in low weird tone</div> + <div class='line'>Within thy leafy lair!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O one and all, unveil! and let us see</div> + <div class='line in4'>The flaming soul of world-wide Love</div> + <div class='line in4'>Burning behind you, far above,</div> + <div class='line'>Beneath, deep-fountained life, strange mystery!</div> + <div class='line'>Unveil! O night that washest Earth’s dark shore,</div> + <div class='line in4'>O suns, through space that ever roll,</div> + <div class='line in4'>O Love, clasping us body and soul</div> + <div class='line'>For evermore!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Curiously enough, as it happened, I was practically +offered a Fellowship before I took my degree. +The College was in want of an assistant Lecturer. +There were three clerical Fellowships (the others +being connected with the Bar as a profession), and +one of these clerical Fellowships had lately become +vacant by Leslie Stephen, who held it, relinquishing +his Orders. It was understood that I was going +into the Church; it seemed probable that I should +take a fair degree; and for the rest, who could be +found so suitable—so mild, so docile, so decently +mannered and generally unaggressive—as the young +man in question! Accordingly one day the tutor +(Henry Latham) sounded me on the subject. I +conveyed to him that I had not changed my intention +of being ordained, and that I rather liked the prospect +of staying on at Cambridge in connection with +the College; and it became practically understood +that if things turned out favorably that should be +my destiny.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>And things turned out accordingly. In the Mathematical +Tripos of 1868 I came out tenth wrangler, +which was a sufficiently high degree to justify a +Fellowship at a small College; and in the autumn +of that year I came into residence at Trinity Hall +as a Lecturer; shortly afterwards I was elected to +a clerical Fellowship; and in June ’69 I was +ordained Deacon by the Bishop of Ely.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The story of my connection with the Church may +be soon told. Brought up in the philosophical Broad +Churchism of my father, with an ever-expanding +horizon, my mind had at no time undergone any +revulsion of feeling such as could be called a religious +crisis; no sense of antagonism to the Church and +its teachings had been developed. Though quite +aware that my opinions were vastly different from +those of the ordinary Churchman, I perhaps hardly +appreciated <i>how</i> far I had drifted; and with an +easy faith in progress, such as I had, it seemed to +me that anyhow in a few years the Church, widening +and growing from within, would become adapted to +the times, and be a perfectly habitable and a useful +institution.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As soon as I was ordained I had services in the +College Chapel to read, and sermons to preach—with +the usual accompaniment of winks and grins from +the fellow-students, shufflings of hassocks, racings +half-dressed through the prayers on winter mornings, +with clicks of watches timing the performance, and +all the gaping signs of unconcealed boredom; but I +thought I would like to see something more satisfactory +and more definite in the way of Church work than +that, and accordingly took a curacy at St. Edward’s +under a dry evangelical of the steel-knife and lemon-juice +type, named Pearson.</p> + +<p class='c011'>If I had nursed in my mind any sentiment of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>romance in connection with ecclesiastical affairs, it +was soon expelled by these experiences. A peep +behind the scenes was enough. The deadly Philistinism +of a little provincial congregation; the tradesmen +and shopkeepers in their sleek Sunday best; +the petty vulgarities and hypocrisies; the discordant +music of the choir; the ignoble scenes in the vestry +and the resumed saintly expression on returning into +the church; the hollow ring and the sour edge of +the incumbent’s voice; and the fatuous faces upturned +to receive the communion at the altar steps—all +these were worse, considerably worse, than the +undisguised heathenism of the chapel performance.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was not long before I began to have serious +misgivings about the step I had taken. Still I did +not torment myself; and when in the following June +(1870) the time arrived for my ordination as a priest, +I prepared myself quite philosophically to go through +the ceremony.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But here an interesting hitch occurred. In the +Bishop’s examination preparatory to the ordination, +the candidates had among other things to write a +Life of Abraham; and such was my optimistic confidence +in the breadth of the episcopal mind that +I quite candidly and without any particular misgiving +committed to paper the view which I had picked up, +I think from Bunsen the historian, and which is also +adopted by Dean Stanley in his <i>Jewish Church</i>—that +Abraham’s intended immolation of Isaac was a relic +of Moloch-worship, and of the old practice of human +sacrifices, and that the “voice of God” which bade +him substitute the ram did indeed figure the evolution +of the human conscience to a higher ideal of worship +than that in vogue among savage nations. This +paper, containing so dreadful a heresy, I sent up +without a qualm! But on arriving myself some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>days later at the Palace at Ely, the Bishop (Harold +Browne) soon after the first greetings called me +into his study and confronted me with the offending +passage. At first I had some difficulty in understanding +what the trouble was, but when the Bishop in +grave tones began to remind me that the sacrifice +of Isaac was a type—a type and a prefigurement of +that greater sacrifice of Jesus, and that the whole +Biblical scheme of salvation rested four-square upon +this incident (not forgetting the ram), I immediately +saw that the fat was in the fire, and that there +was now no escaping a solemn discussion on the +Atonement.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And to that it came. Our conversation, interrupted +by dinner, was resumed again late in the evening; +and when all the other clerics and candidates had +gone to bed the reverend Father-in-God and I sat +up till past twelve discussing all the main and side +issues of Theology! On the latter he was easy +enough. I told him plainly that I did not believe in +the historical accuracy of the Old Testament; and +he admitted that there were gaps! Even the Thirty-nine +Articles were to be swallowed in the lump, and +not in detail, so to speak. But on the Atonement the +discussion narrowed. Here was a vital point. My +views were woolly in outline, sadly blurred by the +Broad Church mysticism of F. D. Maurice, and I +confess I had some difficulty in formulating them. +The Bishop merely shook his head, asked me to “say +that again,” and declared that he could not understand. +It ended by his requesting me to <i>write out</i> +my doctrine; and going to bed himself he left me +sitting up for a couple of hours more for this purpose! +In the morning I handed him, before breakfast, +my mystic script. After breakfast he once more +called me into his study, said he had read the paper, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>that it was thoughtful and all that, but that he could +not say that he really followed it, and that he was +sure it was <i>not</i> the doctrine of the Church of England.</p> + +<p class='c011'>We were then within a few minutes of the commencement +of the service. I took for granted that +he would not ordain me; but after a pause he said +“I cannot refuse to ordain you; but I do not think +your views are those of the Church.” I think he +hoped that <i>I</i> should then retire of my own accord. +However I said nothing but took it all as settled in +my favour, and in less than an hour the apostolic +hands were on my head.</p> + +<p class='c011'>After luncheon the good old man, not without a +certain anxiety and <i>épanchement</i>, put his arm in +mine and walked with me round the garden. I +remember there was a chaffinch hopping about, and +a longish discourse followed on creation and suffering +and vicarious sacrifice, which I listened to with +due deference; but it did not seem to me to lead to +any conclusion; and soon the time came for us +to leave the palace, and I saw him no more.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It may be imagined that I did not find my profession +any more satisfactory after being made +priest than before. He of the sour knife-edge, my +superincumbent, left St. Edward’s, being translated +into a canon of Carlisle, and was succeeded, curiously +enough, by Maurice himself. That was I think early +in 1871.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Of this transaction, by which F. D. Maurice +became incumbent of St. Edward’s, it may be worth +while to say a few words. Maurice had lately come +to Cambridge as Professor of Moral Philosophy. +As far as his moral worth was concerned, the choice +was a good one. There was an ineffable personal +charm about him, of moral earnestness and deep +feeling, connecting itself somehow with his lofty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>venerable head and extraordinary modesty. But of +his philosophy perhaps the less said the better. He +saw facts which doubtless it is impossible adequately +to translate into language. Certainly it was impossible +for him. To see him struggling with the root-ideas +which he was always trying, and vainly, to +express, to see him perspiring with effort, tapping +his forehead with his fingers, shutting his eyes, and +still only framing broken sentences, was really touching. +The net result among the students was, as I +have hinted, one of personal devotion to him, but +of utter bafflement as to his teaching. It is said that +one student hearing that the great man was giving +a course of lectures on the “I” (as he was), made +his way down to the <i>Physiological</i> schools and after +many inquiries finding that no lectures were being +given on the <i>Eye</i>, came back again with the conclusion +that the whole affair was a myth!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Well, Maurice having expressed a wish to take +some practical “duty” in Cambridge, and the living +of St. Edward’s falling vacant at that time, a movement +was got up in the College to offer the living +to him. The living was in the gift of the Fellows +of Trinity Hall, and most of the Fellows were favorable +to the proposal. But an unexpected difficulty +arose in the person of the Master (Dr. Geldart). +Not that the Master himself (who was an old sporting +man, more than anything else) cared a button +about the matter, but because his wife, Mrs. Geldart, +was accustomed to attend St. Edward’s and fuss +round the parson there, and <i>she</i> strongly disapproved +of any one so heretical as Maurice occupying the +pulpit!</p> + +<p class='c011'>I was a Fellow of the College at the time, and the +scenes round the table as we discussed the knotty +question were most amusing. The obvious embarrassment +<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>of the old Master when the question arose as +to <i>why</i> he thought Maurice so dangerous; his mysterious +references to the opinions of other people (his +wife) and his candid disavowal of any knowledge on +these subjects himself; the guffaws of Henry Fawcett +(then Professor of Political Economy and afterwards +Postmaster-General) as he called for his chop and +settled himself down to enjoy a scene to which his +blindness was little drawback; the quips of H. D. +Warr, one of the Fellows; the muttered blasphemies +of our Dean (Hopkins), who couldn’t think why +we wasted time “over such blasted nonsense”; +the ingenious surmises of the barrister fellows +generally as to what Maurice’s opinions might conceivably +be; and the politic expediencies of the +Tutor (Latham) who at last silenced the Master and +his Missus by producing a letter from the Bishop of +Carlisle (Goodwin) endorsing Maurice with a friendly +pat on the back: all this was as good as a play.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Maurice was installed in the living early in 1871, +and thenceforth read the services and prayed and +preached, with that profundity of earnest innocence +which was so characteristic of him, and which contrasted +strangely with the manner of his election, +and more strangely still with the cheap commercialism +of his congregation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Maurice had no great ear for music. The organist +and choir of flat-singing shop-girls revelled in florid +hymns about the “blood-of-the-Lamb.” Maurice +besought me to alter this and induce them to sing +again those fine old hymns like the “Old Hundredth.” +A nice task for an amiable curate!</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was curious that after having been brought up +in and adopted Maurice’s views, I should now, having +become his curate, feel so uncomfortable as I did. +But so it was. I had had experience in the short +<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>space of a year and a half, of three spiritual superiors—each +in a sense more favorable than the last; and +yet my sense of aggravation continually increased. +I saw a good deal of Maurice. He was kindness +itself. I opened out my difficulties to him; and +he was I think troubled to find I could not reconcile +myself to the position which <i>he</i> occupied apparently +without difficulty. But to me his attitude was +a growing wonder. I could quite understand his +historical-philosophical view of the Creeds and the +Old Testament, and that he could read into them a +deep and necessary meaning, satisfactory to his own +mind; I had in fact been already, long before, +initiated into this Broad Church attitude by my +father. But when it came to standing up oneself +in church and reciting these documents to a congregation +who (as one knew perfectly well) did not +understand a word of them, and practically received +them in their grossest sense and in a spirit of mere +superstition, then I felt it <i>was</i> necessary to draw the +line somewhere! It was not that I then, or at any +time, made a trouble of the conformity of my own +<i>views</i> with those of the Church; for I thought and +I think now, that if a man feels he can do useful +work, and congenial to himself, in that connection, +he had better remain where he is until he is kicked +out; and that seeing the variety of interpretations +that Church doctrines are capable of, it is rather +for the Church to decide whether <i>his</i> interpretations +are within its pale, or not, than for him to do so. +But the trouble to me was a practical one—namely +the insuperable <i>feeling</i> of falsity and dislocation +which I experienced, and which accompanied all +my professional work from the reading of the services +to the visiting of old women in their almshouses—who +were, one could see, goaded on to hypocrisy by +<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>the position in which they were placed—and who +would hastily shuffle a Bible or prayer-book on to +the table, when they saw the parson coming. This +sense of falsity grew on me more and more till I felt +the situation to be intolerable.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is remarkable—certainly I have found it so +in my own life—how little its greater changes are +one’s own choice, and in a sense, how much they are +forced upon one by necessity—sometimes by an outward +necessity, sometimes by an inner and necessary, +though perhaps unconscious evolution of one’s own +nature. No doubt I <i>thought</i> about this matter a +great deal, argued to myself the question of my conformity +to the Church, and the pros and cons of +remaining in it—worried myself, passed sleepless +nights—and felt generally unhinged over it; but +all this conscious argument brought me no nearer +to a decision. Deep below I felt that some sort of +sheer necessity was driving me on. Sometimes when +I was occupied with, and thinking about, quite other +things, a kind of shiver would run down my back: +“You’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” and I felt +as if I was being pushed to the edge of a steep +place.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For it was not altogether easy to face the situation. +I was doing very well, in a pecuniary sense, at Cambridge, +making with my Fellowship and small offices +as lecturer, librarian, etc., £500 or £600 a year, and +prospects good for the future; the abandonment of +my Orders would probably mean the loss of my +Fellowship, and possibly also that I should have to +leave Cambridge altogether. And it did not seem +quite reasonable to risk all this for what might after +all be only a Quixotic fancy.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But blessed is Necessity which cuts all arguments +short! By the middle of May 1871 I felt so ill and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>wretched that I <i>could</i> not stay on even a few weeks +to the end of the term. I begged off my lectures, +left Maurice to find another curate, and ran away!</p> + +<p class='c006'>Meanwhile other threads and clues of life were +developing. Up to my degree (January ’68) I had +lived singularly apart from any intellectual or literary +circles. As an undergraduate my companions had +mostly been boating men. After my degree however +I came naturally into a more literary society, +consisting partly of the younger Fellows of Colleges +and partly of the more go-ahead students who had +not yet taken their degrees. One or two of the +more thoughtful undergrads of my own College also +leaned towards me. I belonged to one or two little +societies which used to meet and discuss literary or +other topics. To one of these, which W. K. Clifford +organized, I used, after I became a curate, to rush +round on Sunday evenings after church—in time to +take part in the reading of Mazzini’s <cite>Duty of Man</cite>; +illustrated by a plentiful accompaniment of claret-cup +and smoke! Clifford was a kind of Socratic presiding +genius at these meetings—with his Satyr-like +face, tender heart, wonderfully suggestive, paradoxical +manner of conversation, and blasphemous +treatment of the existing gods. He invented just +at that time a kind of inverted Doxology which ran:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>O Father, Son and Holy Ghost—</div> + <div class='line'>We wonder which we hate the most.</div> + <div class='line'>Be Hell, which they prepared before,</div> + <div class='line'>Their dwelling now and evermore!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c014'>and his influence, combined with that of Mazzini, +was certainly part of my education at that period. +If it had by any chance come to the Bishop’s ears +that I attended these meetings there is little wonder +about his hesitation to ordain me!</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>There was another Cambridge heretic with whom +I not unfrequently consorted—Lock of King’s—who +certainly by his attainments and ability ought +to have been made a Fellow of his College, but his +views and the audacity with which he ventilated them +proved a fatal obstacle. Having to write a ’Varsity +prize-poem he sat up all the preceding night to do +it, worked himself up into a kind of prophetic frenzy +and managed under cover of a forecast of republican +utopianism to introduce the lines:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Since they traded in holy things, and treated the people like beasts,</div> + <div class='line'>The priests shall be slain and the kings shall be drowned in the blood of the priests.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>I don’t feel so certain of the exact words of the first +line as I do of the second, but I hope the author of +both (who was then, of course, an undergraduate) +will forgive my quotation of them. It is hardly to +be wondered at that in those days he was <i>not</i> made +a Fellow!</p> + +<p class='c011'>One of the undergraduates of my own College +with whom I made quite a friendship at this time was +Edward Anthony Beck. He came up to Cambridge, +a poor student from the country district of Castle +Rising in Norfolk, on the shores of the Wash—he +also with his head full of rhymes and verses, which +he had written since he was a boy of eight or ten, +to the wonderment and delight of his widower father, +who prophesied in no uncertain tone, a nook in Westminster +Abbey for his poet son. Beck was a bright, +capable fellow, with a slight stoop, and a stammer, +and a good-humoured way of laughing at his own +oddities. He took the University by surprise by +carrying off, in his first year, the prize poem on +Dante—having been fain, it is said, to work up the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>subject by reading Cary’s translation (which he could +not afford to buy) on the bookstalls. Then he wrote +another prize poem on Runnymede, which delighted +him chiefly I think on account of a misprint which +occurred in the printed copy. There was an eloquent +passage in the poem, describing the sunrise of freedom +in England, and something about the clouds +heralding the approach of morning:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Streaks rosy-tinted vanward of the sun—</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c014'>which the printer, in a materialistic mood, altered +into:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><i>Steaks</i> rosy-tinted vanward of the sun.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>These rosy-tinted steaks gave Beck, I believe, as +much pleasure as he got from all the <i>kudos</i> of his +poetic success. He worked away at Classics, took +a good first-class, and ultimately became a fellow +and tutor of the College. But his vein of poetic +feeling and romance, possibly too soon ripe, ran +itself out, and he never carried on this line of production +or published anything. His mind, perhaps +from the same cause, took on a slightly cynical +cast; he lapsed into the ordinary channels of lecturing +and coaching, then married and had a large +family, and so gave himself up to the work-a-day +routine of College life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At the time I mention he and I chummed together +a good deal—indeed there was a touch of romance in +our attachment—we compared literary notes, went +abroad together once or twice, and after he was +made a Fellow, had rooms adjoining each other, +and spent many and many an evening in common. +He became a favorite in the general society of the +younger dons and B.A.’s, on account of his brightness, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>naturalness and frankly avowed enjoyment of +the good things of life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As for myself, for a couple of years or so after +my degree I entered with great zest into this +academically intellectual existence—these chit-chat +societies, these little supper parties, these lingerings +over the wine in combination-room after dinner—where +every subject in Heaven and Earth was discussed, +with the university man’s perfect freedom of +thought and utterance, but also with his perfect +absence of practical knowledge or of intention to +apply his theories to any practical issue. It was +helpful no doubt especially as a solvent of old ideas +and prejudices; but after a time it began to pall +upon me and bore me. There was a vein of what +might be called painful earnestness in my character. +These talking machines were, many of them, very +obnoxious to me. And then of what avail was the +brain, when the heart demanded so much, and +demanding was still unsatisfied?</p> + +<p class='c011'>Looking back, I think with regard to this last-mentioned +matter, that the fault was probably a +good deal on my own side. Strong as had been +two or three attachments of this and my earlier +undergraduate period, and deeply as they had moved +me (to a degree indeed which I should be almost +ashamed to confess); yet for the most part, owing +to my reserved habits, and the self-repressive education +I had received—combined with the fatuities of +public opinion—I consumed my own smoke, and did +not give myself the utterance I ought to have given. +By concealing myself I was unfair to my friends, +and at the same time suffered torments which I need +not have suffered.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I have already said, during the time shortly +after my degree I scribbled a great deal in verse +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>form merely as an outlet to my own feelings, and +without much attention to conventionalities of style +and rhythms—though of course along the ordinary +lines of versification. But now came my introduction +to the poet who was destined so deeply to influence +my life. It was in the summer of ’68, I believe +(though it may have been ’69), that one day H. D. +Warr—one of the Fellows of Trinity Hall, and a +very brilliant and amusing man—came into my room +with a blue-covered book in his hands (William +Rossetti’s edition of Whitman’s poems) only lately +published, and said:—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Carpenter, what do you think of this?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>I took it from him, looked at it, was puzzled, and +asked him what he thought of it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Well,” he said, “I thought a good deal of it at +first, but I don’t think I can stand any more of it.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>With those words he left me; and I remember +lying down then and there on the floor and for half +an hour poring, pausing, wondering. I could not +make the book out, but I knew at the end of that +time that I intended to go on reading it. In a +short time I bought a copy for myself, then I got +<cite>Democratic Vistas</cite>, and later on (after three or four +years) <cite>Leaves of Grass</cite> complete.</p> + +<p class='c011'>From that time forward a profound change set +in within me. I remember the long and beautiful +summer nights, sometimes in the College garden +by the riverside, sometimes sitting at my own window +which itself overlooked a little old-fashioned garden +enclosed by grey and crumbling walls; sometimes +watching the silent and untroubled dawn; and feeling +all the time that my life deep down was flowing +out and away from the surroundings and traditions +amid which I lived—a current of sympathy carrying +it westward, across the Atlantic. I wrote to Whitman, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>obtained his books from him, and occasional +postcardial responses. But outwardly, and on the +surface, my life went on as usual.</p> + +<p class='c011'>What made me cling to the little blue book from +the beginning was largely the poems which celebrate +comradeship. That thought, so near and personal +to me, I had never before seen or heard fairly +expressed; even in Plato and the Greek authors +there had been something wanting (so I thought). +If there had only been those few poems they would +have been sufficient to hold me; but there were +other pieces: there was “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” +“Out of the Rocked Cradle,” “President Lincoln’s +Funeral Hymn,” and the prose Preface<a id='r3'></a><a href='#f3' class='c012'><sup>[3]</sup></a>—and then +afterwards <cite>Democratic Vistas</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On the whole at that time I thought most, I +believe, of the prose writings. <cite>Democratic Vistas</cite> +was a mine of new thought. Both this and the +little blue book I read over and over again, and +still they were new. I had read a great deal of +Wordsworth about the time of my degree; then +Shelley captivated and held me for a long time; +portions of Plato and of Shakespeare I had read +repeatedly; but never had I found anything +approaching these writings of Whitman’s for their +inexhaustible quality and power of making one return +to them.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Yet all this time, or for three or four years, I +believe my interest in them was mainly intellectual—that +is, they were producing an intellectual ferment +in me, but I had not distinctly come into touch with +the dominant individuality behind them, nor felt that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>they were reshaping my moral and artistic ideals. +This is partly shown by the fact that I continued +all these years, and up to ’74 or so, writing verse +along the usual lines and upon the usual subjects. +Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” and Shelley’s +“Adonais” and “Prometheus” still ruled my +artistic and emotional conceptions; and withal, +living as I was in an atmosphere of literary criticism +and finesse, mere academic technique seemed to me +a great matter, and I made great struggles to attain +to it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Though I was not particularly successful in these +efforts towards the conventional in literature, yet I +have no doubt they were very helpful in giving me +some sort of training in the power of handling words +and rhythmical forms—and it was a true instinct +which led me through this instead of urging me to +leap at once into the ocean of metrical freedom, so +difficult to navigate with success. Anyhow so it was +that while (in other things as well as in literature) +my inner scarcely conscious nature was setting outwards +in a swift current from the shores of conventionality, +under the influence of its new genius, into +deeps it little divined, my external self was still busy +in a kind of backwater, and working hard if by +any means it might attain to a creditable or even a +possible existence in these channels!</p> + +<p class='c011'>But by ’71 and ’72 I began to feel that continued +existence in my surroundings was becoming impossible +to me. The tension and dislocation of my life +was increasing, and I became aware that a crisis was +approaching. In May of the former year I had taken +a holiday and got away from Cambridge. In October +I returned to my lecturing and College work, but not +to the church duties; and all ’72 I continued on, +going through the daily round—but in a torpid, perfunctory +<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>manner—feeling probably that I ought to +throw it all up, yet without the pluck to do so till I +was fairly forced. By the end of ’72 I was obviously +ill and incapacitated, and when I asked for leave of +absence for a couple of terms it was readily granted—my +own object in asking (so I put it to myself) +being to get quite away and for long enough to be +able to estimate my position and future action fairly +and deliberately.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The year ’73 was an important one for me. Feeling +shattered and exhausted, and with a big holiday +before me, I determined to go to Italy. It was a +new life and I may almost say inspiration. I spent +two months in Rome, a month in the Bay of Naples, +and a month at Florence. I was alone, still alone; +but the healing influences of the air and the sunshine +were upon me. Amid the bright external life of the +day, and the rich records and suggestions of the +past, all the questions which had been tormenting +me faded away. I <i>thought</i> about them no more; but +new elements came into my life which decided them +for me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The Greek sculpture had a deep effect. The other +things, pictures, architecture, etc., interested me much +from an historical or æsthetic point of view; but +this had something more, a germinative influence on +my mind, which adding itself to and corroborating +the effect of Whitman’s poetry, left with me as it were +the seed of new conceptions of life. The marvellous +beauty and cleanliness of the human body as presented +by the Greek mind, the way in which the +noblest passions of the soul—the tender pitying love +of Diana for Endymion, the haughty inspiration of +Juno, the heroic endurance of the fallen warrior, +the childlike gladness of the faun—were united and +blended with the corporeal form—or rather scarcely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>conceived of as separated from it; the emotional +atmosphere which went with this, the Greek ideal of +the free and gracious life of man at one with nature +and the cosmos—so remote from the current ideals +of commercialism and Christianity!—to become +aware of all this in the midst of that “delicate +air” and delightful landscape and climate of Italy, +was indeed a new departure for me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>There are magnificent fragments of Greek sculpture +in the British Museum, not forgetting the priceless +frieze of the Parthenon—things which to a skilled +artistic eye are as suggestive as any that can be +found—but to me the great range and completeness +of the Italian galleries, the almost perfect Cupids, +fauns, Venuses, athletes, warriors, youths, maidens, +sages, gods, in unending procession under that +southern sky, gave a poetic impulse which I could +not, at any rate at that time, have surmised from a +broken marble seen in a London fog!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nor must I omit, as part of the Greek impression, +a visit to the Temples of Pæstum—which helped to +give a habitation in the mind’s eye to those strings +of sculptured figures, exiles in alien Rome, and to +intensify the sense of harmonious life and divine +proportion which they had excited.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I stayed in Italy long enough to see, at Florence, +the fireflies skim and flicker over the blossoming +wheat-fields of May and June, and then returned +home, to find that without worrying about it a change +had taken place in my mental attitude which would +make my return to the Cambridge life impossible.</p> + +<p class='c006'>And here I must not omit to mention another +influence which played a large part in the shaping +of my life at this time. Most men own a deep debt +to women’s influence in the ordering and guidance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>of their lives. I cannot say that I have felt this. +With the exception of my mother and one other +person, I cannot remember a single case in which +a woman came to me as a strong motive-force or +inspiration, or as a help or a guide in doubt or +difficulty. Perhaps on the emotional side women did +not supply what I needed; while on the intellectual +side a woman with decisive, originative, authentic +mind is certainly not often to be met with. Such a +woman, however, of the latter type, was the person +to whom I allude, and whom I may call Olivia +(which indeed was one of her Christian names).</p> + +<p class='c011'>She was a connection by marriage with one of my +sisters, a woman about fifty, still retaining traces of +an exceedingly handsome youth. Married, but separated +from her husband; artistic to the finger-tips; +brought up in Italy, and loving the South; hating +everything British and Philistine and commercial; +detesting the Bible and religion; she had fought her +way through social odium and disability, and then +through severe illness and suffering, till she was but +the wreck (she used to say) of her former self. +Nevertheless a remarkable fire and enthusiasm still +survived in her, and though one of those natures who +see everything rather violently black or white, yet +the decisive artistic quality of her mind was most +refreshing and inspiring. I have given some general +account founded on her life and character in a separate +sketch.<a id='r4'></a><a href='#f4' class='c012'><sup>[4]</sup></a> Sufficient to say here that her conversations +on literature and art, her criticisms of art work (and +of my own efforts), her views on marriage, on religion—though +we disagreed a thousand times and often +saw things from opposite points—were most helpful to +me. They served to liberate my mind, corrected in +many respects the native vagueness of my thought, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>and certainly helped me greatly on the road to choose +my own way in life. I find a scrap of a letter from +her, written during this period of my suffering and +doubt as to my continuance at Cambridge and in +the Church: “I ought not to write this morning, +<i>caro mio</i>, I am too depressed. It is terrible to me +to know how you suffer. Your letter last night made +me cold to the finger-ends. One thing is clear anyhow, +your present life is intolerable, <i>change it you +must</i>.... When you get away from the depressing +influence of your present life with all its worries you +will breathe and clap your hands and thank God!” +It is needless to say that my move to Italy and my +preparations for abandoning Orders were things truly +after her own heart.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And now for the first time I seriously entertained +the idea of taking to literature as a profession. I +saw that my Cambridge career was at an end, and +that I must do something else; and for a time +(though only for a short time) it appeared to me +that I might make a living by writing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I believe I felt that I really had something to write, +that I must write, though certainly my mind and purpose +was only vague as yet; and as to the professional +side of the question, though I realized, I +only partly realized, how difficult it would be to make +writing of any kind ‘pay.’ There were plenty of +‘candid friends’ however to impress <i>that</i> upon me, +and I well remember the derisive chorus of the other +Fellows which greeted (at some College meeting or +other) the announcement of my intention! I stayed +at home, at Brighton, during the summer and autumn +and gathered my verses—those more careful and +academic productions which I had perpetrated in +the late years—together in a volume for publication. +Of course no publisher would take the volume at +his risk, and I was content, after a few efforts, to +pay the piper myself for the pleasure of seeing the +work in print, and on the chance of its leaping to +a world-wide success! The book, under the title +<cite>Narcissus, and other Poems</cite>, was published in +November 1873, and needless to say fell practically +dead—a few notices, mostly depreciatory, in the +papers, a few copies bought by friends, and then it +ceased to stir.</p> + +<div id='i078' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i078.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>MY SISTER LIZZIE.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>Nor was there any reason why it should stir. +There was nothing of any moment in the book; +only a vague sentiment of Nature and humanity +running through, not definite enough at any point to +carry weight; and really not so much of the author’s +own self in it, as of his effort to reach a certain +literary standard. Perhaps one of the best of the +pieces, both in form and intention, was “The Artist +to his Lady”: which I remember expressed in its +indefinite way the dominant feeling which I had +those last years, of being drawn away from my +surroundings by another ideal than that which I +could realize at Cambridge. Of the other pieces, +“The Carpenter and the King”—an extract from +an unfinished revolutionary drama of which the scene +was laid in Austria and Italy in 1848—indicates a +certain advance in political ideas and the germ of +future developments; while “The Angel of Death +and Life” contains in embryo some of the dominant +conceptions of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It so happened that at the time of publication of +<cite>Narcissus</cite>, in November ’73, I was at Cannes, in +the South of France, whither I had gone with my +sister Lizzie (to whom I was much attached) on +account of her illness. I stayed two or three weeks, +and then it became necessary for me to return home, +in order to make preparations for and be present at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>our College Fellows’ meeting at Christmas. It had +of course become quite imperative that I should make +some distinct announcement of my intentions with +regard to the future; and for my part I had now +quite decided that I would relinquish my Orders, +and go through the legal formalities of unfrocking +myself. Sincerely I hoped that this would lead to +my disappearance from Cambridge. If, before, I +had recoiled from such a thought, the torpor and +misery I had experienced since then had quite altered +my point of view.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And in all this matter it was not by any means +only the clerical difficulty that troubled me. As I +have hinted before I had come to feel that the so-called +intellectual life of the University was (to me +at any rate) a fraud and a weariness. These everlasting +discussions of theories which never came anywhere +near actual life, this cheap philosophizing and +ornamental cleverness, this endless book-learning, and +the queer cynicism and boredom underlying—all impressed +me with a sense of utter emptiness. The +prospect of spending the rest of my life in that atmosphere +terrified me; and as I had seemed to see +already the vacuity and falsity of society life at +Brighton, so in another form I seemed to see the +same thing here.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And now it dawned upon me that my abandonment +of Orders, instead of being a thing to be dreaded, +would be my veritable deliverance, and would provide +just that valid excuse for breaking with my +old life, which otherwise might prove hard to find. +When friends, relations, Fellows of the College, and +others, were all urging upon me the folly of committing +professional suicide, I felt that the argument +of <i>conscience</i>—though not really to myself the final +and convincing thing (since that was Necessity)—was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>one which I could make use of, and which I +should <i>have</i> to make use of, since every one, whether +I liked it or not, would credit me with it!</p> + +<p class='c011'>I therefore, to avoid all possible lapses or failures +that might ensue if I left the matter over to a personal +explanation at the College meeting, <i>wrote</i> beforehand +to the Master of Trinity Hall, explaining that I had +entirely made up my mind to formally relinquish my +Orders, and placing my Fellowship in his hands, in +accordance with what I supposed would be necessary +under the circumstances. Then two or three weeks +afterwards I followed in person to join in the Christmas +festivities.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At that time, every year at the Christmas season, +not only did all the Fellows assemble for the transaction +of College business at our meetings, but there +was a week of dinner-parties, with often fifty or sixty +guests each evening (no women) and very serious +junketings! This was, of course, in Commemoration +of the Founder of the College—and with money partly +left for the purpose. We sat down to dinner, a most +extensive one, at six o’clock, which lasted, with the +passing of the loving-cup and the serving of wine and +dessert, till about eight; then we adjourned to the +combination-room to take coffee and to chat for an +hour; after which the elder men generally resolved +themselves into whist parties, while the younger would +retire in batches to college rooms in order to smoke +and drink brandies and soda. Soon after ten <i>supper</i> +was served; and returning to the combination-room +one found a table spread with the traditional boar’s +head, supplemented by oysters, game-pie, and other +little delicacies. In order to stimulate the exhausted +powers, bottled stout was found useful at this period. +Some of the old hands did no scant justice to the +supper; others remained at the whist tables. Finally +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>and as the <i><span lang="fr">coup de grâce</span></i>, about 11.30 hot milk punch +and roast apples appeared!</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was generally the duty of the younger Fellows +to look after the ceremonies a little, to arrange the +whist parties, invite the guests to supper, and ply +them with meat and drink. I remember one evening, +somewhat past midnight, finding the Mayor of Cambridge +(who had been invited) by himself in a remote +corner discussing a roast apple. I went and got +a good big glass of milk-punch, and brought it him, +saying, “Now, Mr. Mayor, I’m sure this will do you +good”—but he waived it away, with a comical gesture, +replying: “No, no more—I <i>can’t</i> drink any +more, thank you; but this apple is delicious!” +Shortly afterwards, leaning on my arm, he was to be +seen carefully descending the stairs to his carriage.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My feelings at this particular Christmas were of +rather a mixed kind. As to the Fellows they were +berating me of one accord for my madness in writing +to the Master and practically resigning my Fellowship +before it was proved needful to do so; also for +my supposed Quixotism in troubling about my Orders. +As to the Dean, being of course in Orders himself +he made short work of the difficulty: “It is all such +tomfoolery,” he said, “that it doesn’t matter whether +you say you believe in it, or whether you say you +don’t. Look at my sermons in chapel now—are they +not models of unaffected piety! You let the matter +drop, and it will all blow over.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Among the Fellows and members of my own and +other colleges with whom at that time I was often +in contact were Henry Fawcett (afterwards Postmaster-General), +Henry Latham (Tutor of Trinity +Hall), Charles Wentworth Dilke, W. K. Clifford, +George Darwin, Robert Romer (afterwards Lord +Justice), Lumley Smith, Henry Fielding Dickens, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>Augustine Birrell, Edward Beck (present Master of +Trinity Hall), and others of course. Most of these—though +not all—did their best from their different +points of view to dissuade me from the course I had +embarked on; but I was not going to be dissuaded +it was obvious to me that half-measures would be +no good, and that if I wanted to make my escape +from Cambridge I must throw the whole thing overboard; +so underneath all the unpleasantness there +was the secret satisfaction of feeling that unknown +to everybody I was really going to gain a point +instead of lose one!</p> + +<p class='c011'>What kind of debates they had in College meeting +over my case I don’t know, for of course I was not +present, but it was conveyed to me that though there +was a general wish that I should stay on as before, +yet if I persisted in relinquishing my Orders, it would +be doubtful if I could be asked to remain in the +College—owing to the scandal of the thing! As to +the question whether my relinquishment of Orders +should involve the loss of my fellowship, that was +adjourned for the present.</p> + +<p class='c011'>So again next term I did not rejoin; but remained +at home, at Brighton, occupied with another important +literary project! <cite>Moses</cite>: a drama. Early one +morning I had woken from sleep in the midst of a +heavy thunderstorm, with an extraordinarily vivid +conception (I don’t know how it came to be there) of +Moses on the top of Sinai. Then and there I wrote +out a long soliloquy (Act II. Sc. 1), which now insisted +on expanding itself into a considerable poem in +dramatic form—the ruling idea being to take the +Bible story, treat it in a rationalistic way, as an +obscure tradition of an actual event, and to show +Moses as a noble but entirely human reformer, embarrassed +in his great enterprise more by the apathy, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>stupidity and superstition of the people he desired +to save than by anything else.<a id='r5'></a><a href='#f5' class='c012'><sup>[5]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>Meanwhile through solicitors I set the ecclesiastical +law in operation with a view to my unfrockment. +The process takes six months for its completion. +It was not necessary for me to see my Bishop again; +but I had one or two gravely regretful letters from +him. I spent the ‘Long’ at Cambridge—July and +August—the last ‘Long’ that I spent there; and +during that time received the legal document which +rendered me once again a layman.</p> + +<p class='c011'>These summer vacations spent at Cambridge were +the part of my university life that—even from my +undergraduate days—I had most enjoyed. Chapels +and lectures were in abeyance, the monotonous +tyranny of boating-practice and training was unknown; +a few students only were up, perhaps twenty +or so at our College—but these would be the more +intelligent and congenial spirits. During the long +morning from nine to two one got through a lot of +reading unhindered by lectures and other interruptions; +then came afternoons canoeing up the river, +two or three together, in the dreamy sheen of the +water and the overhanging willows, or through beds +of iris; or bathing; or playing fives or rackets; or +walking the country lanes, or sitting long on some +turfy bank with a friend. Sometimes we would make +quite a party and go, a fleet of canoes, with provisions, +far up the river and not return till dark. +Then as a rule there were two or three hours more +work in the evening, though sometimes this was +broken through by some little entertainment.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>What a curious romance ran through all that life—and +yet on the whole, with few exceptions, how +strangely unspoken it was and unexpressed! This +succession of athletic and even beautiful faces and +figures, what a strange magnetism they had for me, +and yet all the while how insurmountable for the +most part was the barrier between! It was as if +a magic flame dwelt within one, burning, burning, +which one could not put out, and yet whose existence +one might on no account reveal.<a id='r6'></a><a href='#f6' class='c012'><sup>[6]</sup></a> How the walks +under the avenues of trees at night, and by the riversides, +were haunted full of visionary forms for +which in the actual daylight world there seemed no +place!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Yet as time went on I think it must have become +clearer to me that Cambridge never would afford in +this direction the actual that I wanted. Expectation +grew dry at the fount, and torpor and distress in the +last year or two took the place of the romance of the +years before. Somehow I think I must have dimly +understood that the trouble arose partly from a deep +want of sympathy between myself and the whole +mental attitude, mode of life, and ideals of the university, +and of the gilded or silvered youth who lived +and moved within it; for I remember that on the +memorable journey from Cannes homewards, when I +was revolving the whole situation—the abandonment +of my Orders and Fellowship, the failure (as it +already appeared) of my first literary venture, and +the doubt of what I should or <i>could</i> do in the future, +it suddenly flashed upon me, with a vibration through +my whole body, that I would and must somehow go +and make my life with the mass of the people and +the manual workers.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was in pursuance of this last idea that shortly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>after the eventful College meeting above mentioned +I went to see James Stuart at Trinity, who was just +then organizing the first outlines of the University +Extension Lecturing Scheme, and asked him if he +could find me a place on it. He agreed to do so; +and suggested that I should take the subject of +Astronomy. I consented, and shortly after was +appointed to begin a course of Lectures (in October +1874) at Leeds, Halifax and Skipton.</p> + +<div id='i079' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i079.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>SELF, IN ABOUT 1875</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span> + <h2 class='c005'>IV<br> UNIVERSITY EXTENSION AND NORTHERN TOWNS</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>I sometimes think myself singularly fortunate in +the way in which my dreams of life (the wildest and +most unlikely) have from time to time been realized; +but in this connection I have noticed two things that +have generally happened—one is that the new life-purpose +would come, to begin with, with great force, +making me believe it was going to be realized at +once, and that then it would seem to fail and almost +be abandoned, and then again, some years after, it +<i>would</i> be realized. The second thing is (and this +is in accordance with the general law of the “cussedness +of things”) that just in the moment of the +realization of the first endeavour, <i>another</i> ideal would +make itself felt, which would in some degree supersede +the former.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It had come on me with great force that I would +go and throw in my lot with the mass-people and +the manual workers. I took up the University +Extension work perhaps chiefly because it seemed +to promise this result. As a matter of fact it merely +brought me into the life of the commercial classes; +and for seven years I served—instead of the Rachel +of my heart’s desire—a Leah to whom I was not +greatly attached. Nevertheless this period was of +interest and useful to me. I had never been in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>Northern Towns. I was profoundly ignorant of commercial +life. The manners, customs, ideas, ideals, +the types of people, the trades, manufactures, the +dominance of Dissent, the comparative weakness of +the Established Church, the absence of art, literature +and science, the dirt of the towns, the rough heartiness +and hospitality—all formed a strange contrast +to Cambridge and Brighton.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I spent the two winters ’74–’75 and ’75–’76 at +Leeds—lecturing there, and at Halifax and Skipton—living +in Leeds, in lodgings—and seeing a good +deal of the people (mostly ladies) who were actively +engaged in promoting the Extension lectures. My +subject was Astronomy. It was a curious subject +for these towns where seldom a star could be seen. +As far as the heavens were witness I might have told +any fables. My own knowledge was derived almost +entirely from books, and my pupils’ knowledge was +practically limited to books. Occasionally I used +to drag an evening class onto Woodhouse Moor, at +Leeds, to look at the actual subjects of our discussions, +but the latter generally withdrew themselves +from observation! I don’t know whether this kind +of learning was of much use; but it was on the +same lines as most modern learning. I think the +study of books educates the constructive imagination—and +teaches people to figure to themselves things +and situations they have never seen. That is perhaps +the chief use of it. The bulk of the pupils at this +time and during my later connection with the University +Extension were of the “young lady” class. +These were the main support of the movement, and +they might be said to fall into three groups—namely, +the best scholars from girls’ schools, especially some +very intelligent ones from the Friends’ Schools; girls +living at home and having nothing particular to do; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>and elder women in the same plight. These formed +the great majority of the afternoon classes, and a +considerable fraction of the evening classes; the +remainder being elderly clerks and a few extra-intelligent +young men, and a very small sprinkling +of manual workers.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Though for the most part incapable of any mathematical +processes, I found my students open to simple +geometrical reasoning and consequently able to follow +a great deal of formal Astronomy. They took a real +interest in the work, which carried them on and which +made the teaching a pleasure—a great pleasure in +comparison with my experience of the tuition of +“poll” men at Cambridge, whose dulness and +distaste for their work were crushing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The modern Women’s Movement was just beginning +to take shape at that time. And there was +at Leeds three women—all remarkable characters in +their way—who were very much in evidence in connection +with the University Extension. They were +Miss Lucy Wilson, Miss Heaton, and Miss Theodosia +Marshall. Miss Wilson was Local Secretary to the +University Extension; Miss Heaton and Miss +Marshall both aspired after the dignity and influence +of the position. As may be imagined there +was no love lost between the three, and the cabals +and conflicts were unending and most amusing. At +one time there were two other lecturers from Cambridge +living in Leeds besides myself, namely H. S. +Foxwell (of St. John’s, Cambridge) and E. S. +Thompson (of Christ’s). We used to meet every +day for dinner at each other’s lodgings and had no +end of fun comparing notes of local scandal. Coming +from a distance and being in the position in which +we were, we were naturally the recipients of confidences +from all sides. The three ladies were constantly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>asking one or other of us out to <i><span lang="fr">tête-à-tête</span></i> +breakfasts, lunches, or afternoon teas—pouring out +their grievances against one another, and drawing us +into deadly plots. These we duly compared—not +without hatching comical counterplots of our own.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But Miss Wilson was not to be dislodged; she +was firm in her seat. Extremely good-looking and +capable, and a good organizer, she yet had two +defects. Like many “advanced” women she was +very <i>doctrinaire</i>; and having swallowed a principle +(like a poker) would remain absolutely unbending +and unyielding; and, in the second place, she hated +men. On one occasion she got up a “Women’s +Rights” Meeting in Leeds. It was one of the first +of these meetings—certainly the first I had been to. +It was well attended—by women; Miss Wilson made +a clever speech, full of keen thrusts at the male +portion of mankind. I dare say it was well deserved. +It was very slashing. There were a few of us “lower +animals” huddled near the door. At some final +witticism there was a yell of applause. We shut +our eyes, assured that our last hour had come—but +were ultimately spared for another day.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On another occasion a rather amusing thing happened. +One of the lecturers—not either of those +already mentioned, but one living at Halifax though +also lecturing in Leeds—got himself engaged to be +married. This in itself was perhaps an offence to +Miss Wilson. But what was worse—and certainly +foolish of the young man—he went and fixed his +wedding (in the South of England) for a date in +the middle of the term, and then asked leave to miss +a lecture in order to attend it! Of course Miss +Wilson refused. Then in a day or two he wrote +again. The affair was very pressing, he said, and he +must go. Miss Wilson called her committee together. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>They were inclined to yield to the over-hasty marriage +arrangement—foreseeing no doubt that it was inevitable. +But Miss Wilson was absolute. <i>She</i> would +not yield—a great principle was at stake. “What +if all lecturers,” etc. Of course her word prevailed, +and a refusal was sent. Then the inevitable happened. +The fellow went off without leave, only +leaving <i>me</i>, poor unfortunate! to <i>read</i> his lecture +to his gently smiling class. After that there was a +scene between me and Miss Wilson on which the +curtain had better be drawn! “What business had +I to give my services and help to the rebellious +lecturer?” etc. Sufficient to say that we both survived +it, and were quite good friends afterwards.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On the whole it was an interesting time. It was +at Leeds that I came to know the three sisters Ford +of Adel Grange, whose friendship I have valued +ever since; and it was at Leeds that I resumed +acquaintance, to deepen into intimacy, with C. G. +Oates, of Meanwood Side—a companion of Cambridge +days. But my health was not of the best—a +certain overstrain and tension of the nerves, dating +from Cambridge worries, and carried on and increased +by other causes, was continually pulling me +down, and rendering my life at times quite painful. +It was at this time too that my brother Charlie died +in India (March 1876) quite suddenly, as I have +already explained, through a fall from his horse. He +was just, as it happened, on his way home on furlough +after a long absence, and the shock to my +mother and those at home was very great. And +even I—though I had seen comparatively little of +him—felt it a good deal.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In September 1876 my lecturing beat was changed +from the Leeds district to Nottingham, York and +Hull. I lodged at Nottingham (with a fatuous landlady) +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>for that term and rather enjoyed the brighter +air of Nottingham and brighter spirits of the people, +after Leeds. The Casey family with their simple +rather foreign habits (Mrs. Casey half-English, half-German, +Mr. Casey half-Irish, half-French) were my +chief refuge during that and later visits to Nottingham. +To my Astronomy course, I added Light and +Sound. The limelight lantern became my companion, +and experiments—though they increased the labour +of preparation—made the lectures easier and more +successful. By nature an abominably bad speaker, +I had at first found lecturing extremely difficult and +a great strain. My nervous disorganization increased +the difficulty. Words would not come. I suffered; +and if possible my audiences suffered more! But +by degrees, by very slow degrees, I improved; practice +and hard work over my notes in preparation made +a vocabulary more ready to my tongue; and at last, +by about the end of my seven years, I could get +through an hour’s talk without absolutely disgracing +myself!</p> + +<p class='c011'>In this connection I may tell a story. One term +(a little later on, I think) I was lecturing at Barnsley. +The place was a little local theatre, unused at the +time; but about the middle of the term it was taken +by a traveling company, and we had to move into +another building. The last evening of our occupation, +some scenery was already up, and I, having +affixed my star diagrams to the shifts and side-scenes, +was lecturing from the stage when a belated +stranger, a rough navvy or collier—no doubt attracted +by the theatrical bills already out—came stumping +down the middle gangway and ultimately dropped +into a seat. He remained quiet for a good time; +and then—his patience fairly giving out—he rose +up and spoke. “Look ‘ere,” he said, “I’ve been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>sittin’ ‘ere ’alf an hour—and I haven’t understood +a <i>word</i> of what you’ve been saying, <i>and I don’t +believe you do neither</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>I felt for the poor man—I deeply sympathized. +He had come in no doubt on the expectation of a +theatrical treat—got in too without paying at the +door, which was <i>nuts</i>, as they say—and now—what +had he come to?</p> + +<p class='c011'>There was a scene. Everybody jumped round on +their seats. The local Secretary—a tiny little man, +a Frenchman, a dentist—approached the bold +stranger.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“You must sit down,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“<i>Shan’t</i> sit down!”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Den you must go out of de room.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“<i>Shan’t</i> go out of the room.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Den I shall have to <i>make</i> you.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>The situation was too ludicrous—this tiny Gallic +David and this huge and beery Goliath! What +might have happened we know not. Fortunately +the stranger took the better part, and said—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“I’m sure I don’t want to stay ’ere any longer”—and +left us with contempt to our Astronomy.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In the Spring term, January to April, 1877, I +lodged at York—again an improvement in climate. +The lectures there were largely supported by +Unitarian, Quaker, and other dissenting groups +flourishing in the very shadow of the Cathedral. +There were the Spences, the Smithsons, the Wilkinsons, +and the excellent ‘Mount’ school (‘Friends’) +managed by Miss Rous—whose girls were good pupils +and great chums of mine.</p> + +<p class='c006'>In the end of April that year I went out to +America. This was the accomplishment of a long-slumbering +intention. Ever since, in my rooms at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Cambridge, I had read that little blue book of +Whitman, his writings had been my companions, and +had been working a revolution within me—at first +an intellectual revolution merely—but by degrees the +wonderful personality behind them, glowing through +here and there, became more and more real and +living, and suffusing itself throughout rendered them +transparent to my understanding.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I began in fact to realize that, above all else, I +had come in contact with a great Man; not great +thoughts, theories, views of life, but a great Individuality, +a great Life. I began to see and realize +correspondingly that ‘views’ and intellectual furniture +generally were not the important thing I had +before imagined; that character and the statement +of Self, persistently, under diverse conditions were +all-important; that the body in Man (and this the +Greek statuary had helped me to realize), and the +quality corresponding to body in all art and behaviour, +was radiant in meaning and beautiful beyond +words; and that the production of splendid men and +women was the aim and only true aim of State-policy. +By day and night the presence of this Friend, exhaled +from his own book, had been with me—thus working, +transforming, drawing me wonderfully to seek him. +America too, the United States, began of necessity +to compel my interest, and to form an additional +attraction across the Atlantic. I wrote to Whitman +more than once, and in 1876 obtained from him the +complete (Centennial) Edition of his works published +in that year. Indeed I made every preparation +to go out to the States that summer, but circumstances +rendered the voyage impossible.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This year, however, 1877, gave me the long-desired +opportunity. I have recorded in another place<a id='r7'></a><a href='#f7' class='c012'><sup>[7]</sup></a> the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>main outlines of my visit to Whitman on this occasion, +so on that subject I need not say anything further +here, except that Whitman as a concrete personality +entirely filled out and corroborated the conception of +him which one had derived from reading <cite>Leaves of +Grass</cite>. The Rev. W. H. Channing, who was then +acting as Unitarian Minister at Leeds, insisted on +giving me letters of introduction to various friends +of his on that side—Emerson, O. W. Holmes, Russell +Lowell, Charles Norton of Harvard and others—of +which I made use. Emerson was very charming and +friendly. I stayed one night at his house and dined +with him and his wife and his daughter Ellen. His +failure of memory for names was considerable, and +at times painful, and there was the fixed look of age +often in his eye; but otherwise he was active in +body and full of fun and enjoyment of intellectual +life. His eyes greyish-blue, the corners of his lips +often drawn upward—altogether a wonderful bird-like +look about his face, enhanced by his way of +jerking his head forward—the look sometimes very +straight and intense, then followed by a charming +placid smile like moonlight on the sea. His domestic +life seemed admirable. I took a turn in the garden +with him in the afternoon and a drive afterwards—saw +the ‘Minute Man’ and the ‘old Manse’ where +his grandfather lived. Then in his library he talked +much about books and authors—handling his books +in a caressing loving way—and showed me his +Upanishad translations, and his verses “If the red +slayer thinks he slays,” etc. He expressed his admiration +for Carlyle and Tennyson; his want of +the same for Matthew Arnold; and his plain contempt +of Lewes’ Life of Goethe. His conversation +generally seemed very <i>literary</i> in character and I +could not get him to express any views or ideas +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>about America’s place and progress. When I spoke +of Walt Whitman he made an odd whinnying sound: +“Well, I thought he had some merit at one time: +there was a good deal of promise in the first edition—<i>burt</i> +he is a wayward fanciful man. I saw him +in New York and asked him to dine at my Hotel. +He shouted for a ‘tin mug’ for his beer. Then +he had a <i>noisy</i> fire engine society. And he took +me there and was like a boy over it, as if there had +never been such a thing before.” Emerson also +took exception to Whitman’s metre.</p> + +<p class='c011'>O. W. Holmes did not please me so well—a good-natured +little spiteful creature, one might say, with +shovel underlip and bright grey-blue eyes under a +low brow, a dapper active man of seventy—his vanity +qualified by geniality and humour. No ideas whatever +about America. “As to Whitman, well, Lord +Napier said <i>He</i> was the one thing that interested +him in the States. And then Lord Houghton at +dinner one day came plump out in his favour—but +Willie Everett made such a fierce attack in reply that +conversation was silenced.” And he knew that +Rossetti and others in England thought much of +him; but he could only say that in America he was +not known. Then he told the story about him and +Lowell and Longfellow sitting in judgment on Walt +Whitman!<a id='r8'></a><a href='#f8' class='c012'><sup>[8]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>One of the men who interested me most in Boston +neighborhood was Professor Benjamin Pierce—Astronomical +Professor at Harvard—a fine capable +man. We had a long talk on Astronomy, very helpful, +and he gave me a fine set of drawings published +by the Observatory.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One day at New York I met Bryant the poet. It +was at his editorial office. Though eighty-four years +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>old he was walking down there daily and getting +through much work. He was infirm and aged-looking +of course, but still wonderfully active; forehead +narrowing above, and high like a sort of promontory, +straight brow, and eyes sunken but opening out on +you occasionally, straight nose inclining to a hook, +and high bridge, white hair like a thin fall of spray +over neck, ears and mouth. A very literary person—and +manners extremely undemonstrative, even unsympathetic.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But it was Whitman I came out to see, and he in +interest and grandeur of personality out-towered +them all.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The other thing that fascinated me in America +was Niagara. I stayed there four days all alone, +looking at the Falls all the time, <i>feeling</i> their earth-shaking +roar under my feet by day and in bed at +night, and watching that strange calm sentinel, that +column of white spray which, like a great spirit, +exhales itself into the immense height of the sky +over the roaring gulf, and which, rainbow-tinted in +the sun, or glistening mysterious in the moon by +night, seems to overlook the land for far and wide +around. It was the only thing I saw which seemed +quite to match Whitman in spirit.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For the rest the broad, free life—Washington, New +York, Philadelphia, Boston, Albany, and the rivers +and steamboats—the rough freedom and ease and +independence—rougher and better a good deal than +exists now—the hearty welcomes and general friendliness +were pleasant and inspiring.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On my way down the Hudson I stopped at Esopus +and stayed with John Burroughs a night or two. +We took a long walk in the primitive woods back +of his house, while he talked of Whitman and bird-lore—a +tough reserved farmer-like exterior, some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>old root out of the woods one might say—obdurate +to wind and weather—but a keen quick observer close +to Nature and the human heart, and worth a good +many Holmes and Lowells.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I was alone all this time, and felt lonely, among +all these people; but as it was the same in England +there was nothing remarkable about it! I returned +in July to my life of lodgings and lectures; and +in September was put on another lecturing round—to +Sheffield, Chesterfield, and part of the time York +and Barnsley.</p> + +<p class='c006'>This itinerant life in lodgings was a little dull +and unfruitful it must be confessed; the only relief +from the importunities of lodging-landladies being +the futile hospitalities of commercial villa-dom. Both +experiences however had their comic side. At Nottingham +my landlady—a widow of course—used to +aggravate me much, when I first came downstairs +of a morning, by jumping out upon me from a side-door +with “What’ll you have for dinner to-day?” +This query, unannounced by any morning greeting +or salutation, and flung at me <i>every day</i> even before +I had had breakfast, was a complete poser. If I +suggested anything, the suggestion was met by insuperable +difficulties. <i>She</i> made no suggestions. +And there we used to stand staring at each other +in a kind of dismay which at that early hour in the +morning was sadly demoralizing! On one occasion +I wanted a box made—for some of my books—and +I asked this foolish widow to recommend me a +joiner for the purpose. She mentioned some man’s +name; and I, to make sure, queried: “Is he a +good workman? would he make a strong and serviceable +article?” “He made my husband’s coffin, +Sir,” she replied with an air of triumph! And once +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>more I was completely silenced—for I really could +not ask whether it had lasted well or otherwise.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My first experiences of lodging in Sheffield were +about equally bad. I took a lodging at the top end +of Glossop Road. It was a good part of the town; +but the weather was awful. For three successive +days it rained blacks mingled with water! The sky +was dark. Lamps had to be lighted indoors. Then +my lodging-place people were most doleful—three +timid little old maids, like bunnie-rabbits. No. 1, +the youngest and most presentable, waited on me; +No. 3 I never saw, she lived in the kitchen below; +No. 2 haunted in the passage or on the stairs half-way +between. No. 1 would come in and ask me +what I would have for dinner. “Chop and potatoes,” +I would say. Then she would put her head out of +the door and say to the one in the passage “The +gentleman says he will have chop and potatoes.” +Then I could hear the one in the passage say to +No. 3 in the kitchen “The gentleman says he will +have chop and potatoes.” Then a sort of echo came +up from below in a deep tone “Chop and potatoes.” +Then No. 1 would begin again with the second +course. “Rice pudding.” “The gentleman says +he will have rice pudding.” And so it went on, also +for three days, everything that I said was circulated +round the house and echoed back again from below! +It was too much. If this was Sheffield I could stand +it no longer—and I fled away and took rooms at +Chesterfield—dullest alas! of earthly places, but with +a rather better climate.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Perhaps I rather liked the quietude of Chesterfield—where +it was hardly necessary to know anybody. +There were good country walks out towards +the moors, and once or twice I got as far as Barlow, +half-way to Millthorpe—of which place, needless to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>say, I had then never heard. I penetrated, during +my stay in Chesterfield, into the cottage of a plasterer, +a dear old man, S. Ashmore, and became familiar +in his household—the only permanent alliance I made +in Chesterfield.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The next winter—1878–9—I really did manage to +settle in Sheffield, in Holland Terrace, Highfields—three +old maids again for landladies!—but rather +better conditions generally. I lectured at Nottingham +and Hull and Chesterfield, so had a good deal +of traveling, and added a new course of lectures—“Pioneers +of Science”—which was popular on +account of its more discursive character: a brief +history of scientific progress illustrated by biographies +of the great men. The courses on “Sound” and +“Light” went on as well; also that on +“Astronomy”—which last was a popular subject +in Sheffield. <cite>Omne ignotum pro magnifico.</cite> The +evening students were very enthusiastic. Many of +them bought telescopes, and we had outdoor meetings +at night, with all sorts of optical gear, for the purpose +of observing the heavenly bodies. One elderly +enthusiast was quite sure he had discovered a comet, +and was not satisfied till he had written to Greenwich +Observatory, and even then (seeing that they could +not find it) he was not satisfied. The Sheffield +students too formed a Students’ Association, and +discussed subjects among themselves, organized +excursions, and hunted up fresh pupils—all very +good. From the first I was taken with the Sheffield +people. Rough in the extreme, twenty or thirty +years in date behind other towns, and very uneducated, +there was yet a heartiness about them, not +without shrewdness, which attracted me. I felt more +inclined to take root here than in any of the Northern +towns where I had been.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>But during all this lecturing period my health +had been bad, and getting worse instead of better; +and now I was approaching a crisis in regard to +it. The state of my nerves was awful; they were +really in a quite shattered condition. My eyes, which +even in Cambridge days had been weak, kept getting +worse. There was no disease or defect—I had been +to three first-rate oculists and they all agreed about +that. It was simply extreme sensitiveness—probably +the optic nerve itself. A strong light from a lamp +or candle was quite painful. I could hardly read +more than an hour a day—certainly not two hours. +It caused a pain in the nerve, which seemed to +mount to and disorganize the brain. I was conscious +that the refusal of my eyes to read was in +all probability a kindly indication that I would +be much better without reading—but this would +mean giving up the lectures—so here I was +again!</p> + +<p class='c011'>As long as the lectures went on I was in perpetual +suffering with my eyes, and anxiety—sometimes being +really unable to prepare the work before me. Then +on this came the strain of lecturing—traveling to a +place with a great box of apparatus, arriving there +three or four hours before the time of the meeting, +getting all one’s apparatus and experiments ready +(in some wretched schoolroom with <i>no</i> assistance), +having often in those days to make my oxygen gas +myself for the lantern; to rush out when all was +ready for a cup of tea, to return in time to take +an hour’s preliminary <i>class</i>, and then to give the +lecture; all this was terribly exhausting. But +it by no means ended there. After the lecture some +local manufacturer and patron would carry one off +to his residence for the night, there to meet a few +friends at supper, and to talk and be talked to till +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>the small hours of the morning. When one got to +bed—a vibrating mass of nerves—sleep was out of +the question. There were all the pupils and their +faces, and their needs and their personalities; there +were the tiresome patrons and committee people, in +endless dance on my brain. Often and often I never +slept a wink—only to get up the next day and go +through a similar round. Often and often when I +got back to my lodgings I had to lie on my back +on the sofa for hours—not even then to sleep—but +simply to rest and soothe the nerve-pain throughout +my body. I felt my life was becoming wrecked +and I remember at last swearing a great oath to +myself that somehow or other I would get out of +it and find my health again.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And behind it all there was that other need—which +I have already mentioned more than once—that of +my affectional nature, that hunger which had indeed +hunted me down since I was a child. I can hardly +bear even now to think of my early life, and of +the idiotic social reserve and Britannic pretence +which prevailed over all that period, and still indeed +to a large extent prevails—especially among the so-called +well-to-do classes of this country—the denial +and systematic ignoring of the obvious facts of the +heart and of sex, and the consequent desolation +and nerve-ruin of thousands and thousands of women, +and even of a considerable number of men. I came +home in the summer to Brighton to find my sisters, +for the most part unmarried, wearing out their lives +and their affectional capacities with nothing to do, +and nothing to care for: a little music, a little +painting, a walk up and down the Promenade; but +the primal needs of life unspoken and unallowed; +suffering (as one can now see all this commercial age +has been doomed to suffer) from a state of society +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>which has set up gold and gain in the high place of +the human heart, and to make more room for these +has disowned and dishonoured love. It is curious—and +interesting in its queer way—to think that almost +the central figure of the drawing-room in that later +Victorian age (and one may see it illustrated in the +pages of <cite>Punch</cite> of that period) was a young or +middle-aged woman lying supine on a couch—while +round her, amiably conveying or consuming tea and +coffee, stood a group of quasi-artistic or intellectual +men. The conversation ranged, of course, over +artistic and literary topics, and the lady did her best +to rise to it; but the effort probably did her no +good. For the real trouble lay far away. It was +of the nature of <i>hysteria</i>—and its meaning is best +understood by considering the derivation of that +word. I had two sisters—who each of them for +some twenty years led that supine, and one may +say tragic, life; so I had good occasion—beside +what may have lain within my own experience—to +understand it pretty thoroughly. Certainly the +disparity of the sexes and the absolute non-recognition +of sexual needs—non-recognition either in life +or in thought—weighed terribly hard upon the women +of that period.<a id='r9'></a><a href='#f9' class='c012'><sup>[9]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>Another cause, increasing the hardship of disparity, +was the growing disinclination of men (of the upper +classes) to get married. Partly this arose, no doubt, +from their growing realization of the perils and complications +of matrimony; but partly also it arose +from an increase in the number of men of what may +be called an intermediate type, whose temperament +did not lead them very decisively in the direction +of marriage—or even led them away from it; men +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>who did not feel the romance in that direction which +alone can make marriage attractive, and perhaps +justifiable. There have of course been, in all ages, +thousands and thousands of women who have not +felt that particular sort of romance and attraction +towards men, but only to their own kind; and in +all ages there have been thousands and thousands +of men similarly constituted in the reverse way; +but they have been, by the majority, little understood +and recognized. Now however it is coming +to be seen that they also—both classes—have their +part to play in the world.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For my part I have always had excellent and +enduring alliances among women, and life would +indeed be sadly wanting and impoverished without +their friendship and society; but since the days +when I sat a boy of nine or ten under the table, +apparently playing with my marbles, while my elder +sisters and their girl friends were talking freely and +unconsciously with each other about some ball of +the night before, and their partners in the dances, +and their conversations—the workings of the feminine +mind and nature have always been perfectly open and +clear to me. By a sort of intuition (partly no +doubt inborn) I never had any difficulty in following +these workings. They enshrined no mystery for +me. This fact has always caused me to find women’s +society interesting; but naturally it did not conduce +to headlong adorations and marriage! The romance +of my life went elsewhere.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Whether such a state of affairs may be desirable +or undesirable, whether it may indicate a high moral +nature or a low moral nature, and so forth, are +questions which (in a land where <i>everything</i> is either +moral or immoral) are sure to be asked. But in a +sense they are quite beside the mark. They do not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>alter the fact; and that has always been the same +since my earliest days.<a id='r10'></a><a href='#f10' class='c012'><sup>[10]</sup></a> But it will be evident enough—to +any one who takes the trouble to think what +these things mean—that to a person of my emotional +nature the conditions which brought about—to a comparatively +late age—the absence of marriage, or its +equivalent, were a fruitful source of trouble and +nervous prostration. I realized in my own person +some of the sufferings which are endured by an +immense number of modern women, especially of +the well-to-do classes, as well as by that large class +of men of whom I have just spoken, and to whom +the name of Uranians is often given.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Certainly my isolation was in a sense my own +fault—due partly to reserve and partly to ignorance. +When at a later time I broke through this double +veil, I soon discovered that others of like temperament +to myself were abundant in all directions, and +to be found in every class of society; and I need +not say that from that time forward life was changed +for me. I found sympathy, understanding, love, in +a hundred unexpected forms, and my world of the +heart became as rich in that which it needed as +before it had seemed fruitless and barren.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The Uranian temperament in Man closely resembles +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>the normal temperament of Women in this +respect, that in both Love—in some form or other—is +the main object of life. In the normal Man, +ambition, moneymaking, business, adventure, etc., +play their part—love is as a rule a secondary matter. +The majority of men (for whom the physical side +of sex, if needed, is easily accessible) do not for +a moment realize the griefs endured by thousands +of girls and women—in the drying up of the well-springs +of affection as well as in the crucifixion of +their physical needs. But as these sufferings of +women, of one kind or another, have been the great +inspiring cause and impetus of the Women’s Movement—a +movement which is already having a great +influence in the reorganization of society; so I do +not practically doubt that the similar sufferings of +the Uranian class of men are destined in their turn +to lead to another wide-reaching social organization +and forward movement in the direction of Art +and Human Compassion.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span> + <h2 class='c005'>V<br> BRADWAY AND <cite>TOWARDS DEMOCRACY</cite></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>Everything, one sometimes thinks, has its Compensation. +The soul of man is so vast, so endless, +that no matter on what side or sides it be hemmed +in or thwarted, it will find its outlet in some fresh +direction—all the more powerfully perhaps for its +temporary and local obstruction. This is true of +bodies of people, and it is true also of individuals.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The sufferings of these years, the emotional distress +and tension which I had experienced, poured +themselves out in poetical effusions, outbursts, ejaculations—I +know not what to call them. Sometimes +lying full length in the train coming home at midnight +from some lecture engagement, hardly able +to move; sometimes in the morning with a sense +of restoration, flying over the fields in the sunlight; +sometimes in my little lodging; sometimes on a +long country walk—I wrote just what the necessity +of my feelings compelled—formless scraps, cries, +prophetic assurances—in no available metre, or shape, +just as they came. In no shape that they could be +given to the world; but they were a relief to me, +and a consolation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Afterwards, when I found as it were the keynote +which harmonized these disjointed utterances, I made +use of them; and they were mostly embodied and +embedded and adapted into the structure of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>I say my nerves had come to such a pass of +dislocation, that I was nearly breaking down; and +I had sworn a great oath to myself to mend matters +somehow. The year 1879 was in many ways the dim +dawn or beginning of a new life to me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Early in that year I made my first valid essays +in the direction of a reform in diet. I may have +tentatively experimented in vegetarianism before that, +but ineffectually and in ignorance. Once I remember +boldly dining off nothing but a vegetable marrow. +Of course, disastrous defeat and dismay immediately +followed! Practically I had always lived along the +usual régime, of plentiful meat, washed down with +beer or wine; and probably the sick headaches and +nervous tension of my early years were to a considerable +extent due to this excess of stimulation. +Now, the vegetarian ideal, for many reasons, began +to commend itself to me; and though I did not +abandon meat at once, I gradually pushed along +this line—slowly as my way is, but steadily—so that +after four or five years, that is, by ’83 or ’84, I +practically was able to dispense with meat (and +alcoholics) altogether—and did so dispense, often for +months at a time.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A word here about my vegetarian practice +generally. I find now [1899] that though I have +lived, as said, for months at a time without meat +or fish of <i>any kind</i>, and have enjoyed in so doing +infinitely better health than ever before—and though +I feel as if I could continue in this diet indefinitely +and much prefer it—I have yet never made any absolute +rule against flesh-eating, and have as a matter +of fact eaten a very little every now and then—just, +as it were, to see how it tasted, or to avoid giving +trouble in Philistine households, and so forth. Having +a strong (perhaps a too strong) objection to <i>principles</i> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>generally, I have disliked the idea of making +any absolute rule in the matter. Briefly I find the +vegetarian diet—fruit and grains and vegetables, +nuts, eggs, and milk—pleasant, clean, healthful in +every way, and grateful to one’s sense of decency +and humanity. It is a real pleasure to live among +those who adopt it. But having spent my time for +the most part embedded among folk who favour +meat, I have not always kept to my own choice, +but have given in at times to a supposed convenience +or necessity. Perhaps I should have done better, +for myself and others, if I had been more resolute, +but such are the facts.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In the year 1879 also the absolute necessity for +a more open-air life began to make itself felt. I +had always lived in towns, and though fond of the +country I looked on the town as my natural home. +Now I began to long for a country home. I took +long walks round Sheffield, and bitterly regretted +having to come <i>back</i> in the evening, instead of staying +permanently outside. I began to revolve how a +change might be possible. Manual work, too, in +contradistinction to the mere ‘exercise’ (riding or +cricket or athletics) which takes the place of work +among the well-to-do classes, began to have a +fascination for me. I think it was in this summer +[1879] that being at Brighton, I worked for a couple +of months in a joiner’s shop, regularly, from 6.30 +to 8.30 every morning; I used to make panel doors, +and got a good experience, so far, of the trade.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Also as I continued to make Sheffield the headquarters +of my lectures, I was taking definite root +there, and reaching down partly through my classes, +partly through explorations of my own, into the +actual society of the manual workers; and beginning +to knit up alliances more satisfactory to me than +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>any I had before known. Railway men, porters, +clerks, signalmen, ironworkers, coach-builders, +Sheffield cutlers, and others came within my ken, +and from the first I got on excellently and felt +fully at home with them—and I believe, in most +cases, they with me. I felt I had come into, or at +least in sight of, the world to which I belonged, +and to my natural <i>habitat</i>.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was about this time that I made the acquaintance +of a man who for some years after was a +good deal associated with me—Albert Fearnehough. +He came up one evening after a lecture, and gave +me his name (I remember thinking how strange it +was) and address; and asked me if I would come +and see him some time. Later, meeting me in the +street, he renewed the request, telling me that his +friend who came with him to the lectures was a +young farmer who was well up in ‘book-learning’ +(which he himself was not)—that they both lived in +the country, he in a cottage on the farm of which +Fox, his friend, was owner; and that they would +both gladly entertain me any time that I cared for +a country walk. Here was exactly my opportunity. +I accepted the invitation, and not long afterwards +went to visit the two friends at the little hamlet of +Bradway, four or five miles from Sheffield, on the +charming outskirts of Beauchief Abbey.</p> +<div id='i112' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i112.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>ALBERT FEARNEHOUGH AND “BRUNO.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Fearnehough was a scythe-maker, a riveter, a +muscular, powerful man of about my age, quite ‘uneducated’ +in the ordinary sense (since indeed at the +age of nine he had pushed a handcart about the +streets of Sheffield) but well-grown and finely built, +with a good practical capacity though slow brain, +and something of the latent fire and indomitableness +of the iron-worker—a man whose ideal was the rude +life of the backwoods, and who hated the shams of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>commercialism. Indeed he was always getting into +coils with his employers because he would not scamp +and hurry over his work, as occasion demanded; +and with his workmates because he would not +countenance their doing so. In many ways he was +delightful to me, as the one ‘powerful uneducated’ +and natural person I had as yet, in all my life, +met with. Moreover there was a touch of pathos +in his inarticulate ways and in his own sense of +inability to compete with the cheapjack commercialism +of the day. He lived in a tiny little +cottage, on Fox’s farm as I have said, with his wife, +a good patient worker, and two children. And many +a Saturday or Sunday afternoon I came up there +and had tea with them, or roamed about the +fields.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Charles Fox was a very singular character—a +bachelor, with a good brain, curiously fond of +mathematics in his boyhood, quite an original thinker +in his way—yet to look at, a mere clodhopping +farmer with inexpressive face, humped shoulders, and +beetle-like gait. He was not ill-looking, but decidedly +quaint, with his florid, shaven face, and only +the sharp gleam of his eye to show you his shrewdness. +Most of the country-folk thought him a little +touched in the head, for his odd Socratic humour; +and never fathomed in the least his real ability. He +lived on the farm left him by his father, with an +unmarried cousin of his, Miss Fox, for housekeeper, +and with <i>her</i> son Teddie for his farm-lad and helper; +and with a brother, Owen, who certainly <i>was</i> weak +in the head and feeble, and of no practical use in +the establishment. Between Teddie and his uncle +quite an affection existed; but of the household, +and especially of Charles Fox I have given some +account in a separate paper, under the title of <cite>Martin +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>Turner</cite><a id='r11'></a><a href='#f11' class='c012'><sup>[11]</sup></a>; and what I have there said I need not +repeat.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My acquaintance with these two men had its +inevitable effect on me. I saw at last my way of +escape out of that dingy wilderness, that <i>selva +oscura</i>, in which I had wandered lost, from childhood +even down to the very middle of life’s journey. +They represented at any rate for me a deliverance +from the idiotic fatuous life I had been submerged +in all my boyhood at Brighton, and more or less +ever since. They represented, if nothing more, a +life close to Nature and actual materials, shrewd, +strong, manly, independent, not the least polite or +proper, thoroughly human and kindly, and spent for +the most part in the fields and under the open sky.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My visits to little Bradway and the farm became +more and more frequent. I was accepted cordially +by both households. I joined in the farm work, and +spent long evenings with the boy and his uncle in the +cowhouse or with the two families round their kitchen +fire—quaint scenes of fun and merriment which are +graven on my mind, but which it would take too long +to recount here. I soon formed a plan of coming +to live if possible with these good people, and carrying +on my lectures even from this distance out in the +country.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It took a little time to arrange anything, but +after some months it was agreed that Fearnehough +should move into another cottage a little distance off +(since the one he occupied was so small) and that I +should lodge with him for a time. Accordingly (in +May 1880) he migrated with his family to the neighboring +parish of Totley, and I joined them there; +but in March of the following year, the adjacent +<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>cottage to the old one on Fox’s land having become +vacant, and Fox having thrown the two into one, +we returned to Bradway and resumed our old relations +on the farm.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I had managed to carry on my lectures from Totley—indeed +I had added a new course, on the “History +of Music,” and one that interested me much, to my +former ones; but it was certainly inconvenient, carrying +on the work from such a distance in the country; +and new interests and forces were growing within me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The life, especially since our return to Bradway, +was so different from anything to which I had before +been accustomed, it was so congenial in many +respects, so native, so unrestrained, it seemed to +liberate the pent-up emotionality of years. All the +feelings which had sought, in suffering and in distress, +their stifled expression within me during the +last seven or eight years, gathered themselves together +to a new and more joyous utterance. My physical +health was every day becoming better. There was +a new beauty over the world. Everywhere I paused, +in the lanes or the fields, or on my way to or from +the station, to catch some magic sound, some intimation +of a perpetual freedom and gladness such as +earth and its inhabitants (it seemed to me) had +hardly yet dreamed of. I remember that, all that +time, I was haunted by an image, a vision within +me, of something like the bulb and bud, with short +green blades, of a huge hyacinth just appearing +above the ground. I knew that it represented vigour +and abounding life. But now I seem to see that, in +the strange emblematic way in which the soul sometimes +speaks, this image may have been a sign of +the fact that my life had really at last taken root, +and was beginning rapidly to grow.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another thing happened about this time. On the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>25th January 1881 my mother died. Her death +affected me profoundly. Though there had been +(as I have explained elsewhere) so little in the way +of spoken confidences between us, we were united +by a strong invisible tie. For months, even years, +after her death, I seemed to feel her, even see her, +close to me—always figuring as a semi-luminous +presence, very real, but faint in outline, larger than +mortal. It was an inexpressibly tender and consoling +relation. Gradually, in the course of years, +the presence, or the sense of it, faded away, becoming +less and less objective, into the background of my +mind, where it remains now, more as it were an actual +part of myself than it was then.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Her death at this moment exercised perhaps a +great etherealizing influence on my mind, exhaling +the great mass of feelings, intuitions, conceptions, +and views of life and the world which had formed +within me, into another sphere. The <cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite> +about the same time falling into my hands gave me +a keynote. And all at once I found myself in touch +with a mood of exaltation and inspiration—a kind of +super-consciousness—which passed all that I had experienced +before, and which immediately harmonized +all these other feelings, giving to them their place, +their meaning and their outlet in expression.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And so it was that <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> came to +birth. I was in fact completely taken captive by +this new growth within me, and could hardly finish +my course of lectures for the preoccupation. Already +I was speculating how I could cut myself free. No +sooner were the lectures over (about the end of April +1881) than I began writing <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. +It seemed all ready there. I never hesitated for a +moment. Day by day it came along from point to +point. I did not hurry: I expressed everything +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>with slow care and to my best; I utilized former +material which I had by me; but the one illuminating +mood remained and everything fell into place under +it; and rarely did I find it necessary to remodel, +or rearrange to any great extent, anything that I +had once written.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I soon saw that the whole utterance would take a +long time. I decided to give up my lecturing work +so as to be quite unhampered. And I did so. +What with my savings from Cambridge days, and +a small income of fifty or sixty pounds a year springing +from them, I knew I could live well enough for +a few years—and so I felt supremely happy. It +became necessary also to have some place in which +to sit many hours a day writing—and so I knocked +together a kind of wooden sentinel-box, placed it +in a quiet corner of the garden, overlooking far +fields, and thither resorted all through the summer, +and into the autumn, and far away through the winter.</p> + +<p class='c011'>What sweet times were those! all the summer to +the hum of the bees in the leafage, the robins and +chaffinches hopping around, an occasional large bird +flying by, the men away at work in the fields, the +consuming pressure of the work within me, the wonderment +how it would turn out; the days there in +the rain, or in the snow; nights sometimes, with +moonlight or a little lamp to write by; far far +away from anything polite or respectable, or any +sign or symbol of my hated old life. Then the afternoons +at work with my friends in the fields, hoeing +and singling turnips or getting potatoes, or down in +Sheffield on into the evenings with new companions +among new modes of life and work—everything +turning and shaping itself into material for my poem. +There was a sense to me of inevitableness in it all, +and of being borne along, which gave me good +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>courage, notwithstanding occasional natural doubts; +and a sense too of unspeakable relief and deliverance, +after all those long years of gestation, as of +a woman with her child.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In about a year, that is, by early in 1882, <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>—that is the long first poem which bears +that name—was completed except for some technical +revisions. The child, conceived and carried in pain +and anguish, was at last brought into the world.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Some further details with regard to the genesis of +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite> were given in a short paper in +the <cite>Labour Prophet</cite> for May 1894, and are now +reprinted as a Note to the editions of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>; and the history of its publication is +given in Chapter XI below.</p> +<div id='i120' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i120.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>E. C. (1887), AGE 43.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span> + <h2 class='c005'>VI<br> MANUAL WORK AND MARKET-GARDENING</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>In April 1882 my father died; and I was at once +whirled out of my land of dreams into a very different +sphere. It became necessary for me to return home, +to Brighton, and handle, as executor, a considerable +estate—divisible among ten children. The investments +were chiefly in American securities—and they +gave a lot of trouble! I stayed at Brighton four or +five months, dealing with solicitors, brokers, officials, +relatives—selling, negotiating, dividing, transferring +without end—doing the work of a lawyer’s clerk in +fact. Indeed our solicitor remarked one day, perhaps +rather plaintively, that it was lucky I had had +the time to spare, as it had saved the family no doubt +some hundreds of pounds! Of course the work was +not really finished for three or four years, but the +thick of it was got through that summer, and after +that I returned to my beloved Bradway.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My forced stay at Brighton brought out into strong +relief the contrast between the old life and the new. +I felt more than ever the futility and irksomeness +of the old order. I missed my companions of the +North, I grieved more than ever over the wasted +lives around me in the South—but it was with a new +sense, the knowledge that there was something better. +I employed my spare time in writing shorter pieces +in the style of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> and revising +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>what I had already written, using my new surroundings +again as a point of view under the great light +of my main inspiration. My unmarried sisters remained +on for a few years at Brighton after my +father’s death, keeping the house together much as +of old. Then they removed to London, and at last +(in 1886) the old house and furniture were sold +and its doors closed on the family who had occupied +it for forty years.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At the end of the summer of which I am speaking—about +September 1882—I returned to my home at +Bradway. My father’s death had left me (more or +less prospectively) possessor of about £6,000—which +with my little savings of earlier years, seemed quite +a large fortune—too large indeed—it rather weighed +on my mind!<a id='r12'></a><a href='#f12' class='c012'><sup>[12]</sup></a> My lectures were over and done +with; some years of literary work were before me, +but obviously not of a paying sort, either in the way +of wages or fame. The question was What should I +do?</p> + +<p class='c011'>I might have simply settled down into an armchair +literary life. I really don’t know exactly why +I didn’t. But the fancy for manual work had seized +me, and for some reason or other, nothing but a life +of that kind would satisfy me—only it must be in +the open air. No sooner had my father died than I +made up my mind to buy a piece of land and work +on it as a market-gardener.</p> + +<p class='c011'>No doubt it was a healthy instinct. The motive +was in the main a purely personal one. I felt (and +rightly) the need of physical work, of open-air life +and labour—something primitive to restore my overworn +constitution. I felt the need directly and +instinctively, not as a thing argued out and intellectually +<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>concluded. I have sometimes been credited with +making this move onto the land in pursuance of +some great theory or scheme of social salvation! +But it was not so. There was no idea of this kind +in it, or if there was, it was of a very secondary +character. My thought was my own need. But I +may have had some feeling that a life of this kind +was more honest than the alternative, and I think +also that I felt it would bring me more decisively +into touch with the great body of the people (a +strong motive at the time)—and so far I believe these +two motives had some secondary play.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At any rate I never felt much doubt about the +move. I persuaded Fearnehough, after a little time, +to join me if I should settle anywhere; and then I +set looking out for a bit of land. But that was not +easy to find. At intervals for many months I scoured +the country in the neighborhood of Sheffield, but +could find nothing there except the small holding +at Millthorpe, which though good land and in a +lovely situation, with water, etc., seemed too far +from town to be available for market purposes. Then +I went down into Worcestershire; but in truth the +difficulty of finding a small freehold anywhere in +England—especially with good soil and near a market—is +great; and being no more successful in Worcestershire +I returned to Sheffield. Ultimately and +being (as usual in such things) more compelled by +necessity than of my own choice, I fell back on the +seven acres at Millthorpe which I now occupy. Of +course I could not help rejoicing in the lovely necessity +of living in such a place—the charming brook +running at the foot of my three fields, the beautiful +wooded valley, and the close proximity, a mile or so +off, of the open moors. But I had some misgiving, +not only about the market side of the question, but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>about living so completely gulfed in the country—eight +or nine miles from a town centre—for I had +never tried anything of the kind before.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I spent the winter of ’82 and ’83 mostly at Bradway, +continuing my writing and other life there, in +the intervals of the search for land. About Easter +’83 I came to terms for the purchase of the three +fields at Millthorpe, and soon after that I set to +house-building. The house was finished by the end +of the summer, and in October ’83 the Fearnehoughs +and I moved in. About the same time I published +through John Heywood of Manchester, my first poem +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was a small thin volume of 110 pages, meant +for the pocket. It was sent out to the Press, but +excited very little comment, except as the ravings of +some anonymous author. Yet after a time, faithful +to its charge, it came back to me, bringing dear +and true friends from all sorts of unlikely places +and distant parts of the world; and has not ceased +to do so since. Not long after its publication Havelock +Ellis picked it up on a second-hand bookstall +in London, and wrote to me; and he again brought +me into communication with Olive Schreiner, whose +<cite>African Farm</cite> was then beginning to attract attention.</p> + +<p class='c011'>That winter, of ’83–’84, was spent in hard work, +getting the house and the yard and out-buildings +in order, laying out the garden ground, digging +up the grass-land, planting fruit and other trees, etc. +And so were the summers and winters following, for +four or five years.</p> + +<p class='c011'>That strange œstrum of hard manual work, and +digging down to the very roots of things, spurred me +on. I hardly know how to account for it. It possessed +me. Every habit, every custom or practice +of daily life—house-arrangement, diet, dress, medicine, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>etc., was overhauled and rigorously scrutinized. +I worked for hours and for whole days together out +in the open field, or garden, or digging drains with +pick and shovel, or carting along the roads; going +into Chesterfield and loading and fetching manure, +or to the coalpit for coal, grooming and bedding +down the horse, or getting off to market at 6 a.m. +with vegetables and fruit, and standing in the market +behind a stall till 1 or 2 p.m.; I was not satisfied +but I must do everything that was necessary to be +done, myself.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was a considerable strain. With my somewhat +vague aspiring mind, to be imprisoned in the rude +details of a most material life was often irksome. +Yet a consuming passion drove me on—a desire to +know, to do something real, an evil conscience perhaps +of the past unreality of my existence. I was +compelled to eat it all out.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I carried on, for those first three or four years, +the superintendence (of course with the help of my +friend and his wife) of house and garden, with their +manifold points of detail. I went on with my writing—adding +essays on social subjects (“England’s +Ideal” and others) to my poems; and I started +lecturing on similar topics.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was too much. I remember that period as a +time of great strain. I felt indeed the isolation of +the country—gulfed as I was among a perfectly +illiterate unprogressive country population (much +more so than at Bradway), with my friend and his +family, who though good and true people were also +quite limited to material interests. There was no +one to whom I could talk, who could give me any +help. My Sheffield friends were far away, only to +be seen once a week or so, and (in the early years +at any rate) visitors at Millthorpe were rare. It was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>too much, and my health suffered a little; and yet +(as I have said) I was driven to it. It is strange +how unaccounted impulses and instincts underlie the +evolution of one’s life. Certainly during those years +I (in some ways the most unlikely person to do so) +bottomed out the whole of the material and +mechanical ways of life—from the details of household +life to the processes of agriculture and of a +great number of other trades and industries. It +was a training such as no university could give. +And if my health suffered now and then from the +strain, <i>on the whole</i> it improved immensely during +this period; so that after five or six years I threw +off completely my nerve troubles, and became stronger +than I had ever been before in my life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Two other things happened in 1883 besides my +migration to Millthorpe, and publication of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>—namely, my first acquaintance with the +Socialist movement, and my reading of Thoreau’s +<cite>Walden</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c006'>Of course, in a vague form, my ideas had been +taking a socialistic shape for many years; but they +were lacking in definite outline—that definition which +is so necessary for all action. That outline as regards +the industrial situation was given me by reading +Hyndman’s <cite>England for All</cite>. However open to criticism +the Marxian theory of surplus-value may be +(and <i>every</i> theory must ultimately succumb to criticism), +it certainly fulfilled a want for the time by +giving a definite text for the social argument. The +instant I read that chapter in <cite>England for All</cite>—the +mass of floating impressions, sentiments, ideals, etc., +in my mind fell into shape—and I had a clear line of +social reconstruction before me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I gave my first semi-socialistic lecture (though I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>think this was before reading the above book)—on +“Co-operative Production”—in that year; and later +on in the same year I one evening looked in at a +committee meeting of the Social Democratic Federation +in Westminster Bridge Road. It was in the +basement of one of those big buildings facing the +Houses of Parliament that I found a group of conspirators +sitting. There was Hyndman, occupying +the chair, and with him round the table, William +Morris, John Burns, H. H. Champion, J. L. Joynes, +Herbert Burrows (I think) and others. After that, +though I did not actually join the S.D.F., I kept in +touch with them, and was able at a later time to +render material help in the establishment of <i>Justice</i> +as their organ.</p> + +<p class='c011'>From that time forward I worked definitely along +the Socialist line: with a drift, as was natural, +towards Anarchism. I do not know that at any +time I looked upon the Socialist programme or doctrines +as final, and it is certain that I never anticipated +a cast-iron regulation of industry, but I saw +that the current Socialism afforded an excellent text +for an attack upon the existing competitive system, +and a good means of rousing the slumbering consciences—especially +of the rich; and in that view I +have worked for it and the Anarchist ideal consistently.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The other thing that happened in 1883 was my +reading of Thoreau’s <cite>Walden</cite>. Just about the very +day that I got into my new house and onto my plot +of land—the realization of the plotting and scheming +of some years—that book fell into my hands, which +took the bottom completely out of my little bucket! +Having just committed myself to all the exasperations +of carrying on a house and market-garden and the +petty but innumerable bothers of ‘trade,’ the charming +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>ideal of a simplification of life below the level +of all such things was opened out before me—and +for the time I felt almost paralyzed.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Whatever the practical value of the Walden experiment +may be, there is no question that the book is +one of the most vital and pithy ever written. Its +ideal of life spent with Nature on the very ground-plane +of simplicity (though probably only permanently +realizable by a highly cultured humanity, +having access to all the results of art and science, +as Thoreau had at Concord) has yet shattered the +conventional views of thousands of people. It helped, +I must confess, to make me uncomfortable for some +years. I felt that I had aimed at a natural life and +completely failed—that I might somehow have +escaped from this blessed civilization altogether—and +now I was tied up worse than ever, on its +commercial side.</p> + +<p class='c011'>What sort of line my life would have taken if +Thoreau had come to me a year earlier, I cannot tell. +It is certain that there would have been a considerable +difference. Perhaps it is lucky I was not drifted +away by him and stranded, too far from the currents +of ordinary life. At any rate I do not regret now +that things happened as they did. Instead of +escaping into solitude and the wilds of nature—which +would have satisfied one side—but perhaps not the +most persistent—of my character, I was tied to the +traffic of ordinary life, and thrown inevitably into +touch with all sorts of people.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Early in 1883, as I have said, I gave my first +lecture on social questions, and from that time forward +I spoke on these subjects. In the summer of +’84 I went again to the United States, my chief +object again being to see Whitman—though I had +also friends to visit. I crossed the Atlantic as a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>steerage passenger—in a big Inman boat, the <cite>City +of Berlin</cite>—with seven or eight hundred other +steerage passengers. It was a great experience. I +have described it in my poem “On an Atlantic +Steamship.” The fact of my venturing it shows +the determination with which I was working down +into a knowledge of the life of the people. Besides, +I had crossed as a <i>saloon</i> passenger before, and I +felt that <i>that</i> was intolerable! The experience was +not nearly so rude as I had expected. We had +good weather, which of course is everything, and +were on deck all day; the nationalities, Swedes, +German, Irish, English, etc., were kept apart from +each other below; I secured a cabin with a very +decent set of young English fellows, and we got on +first-rate. The food was quite clean and good. So +well satisfied was I that I actually <i>returned</i> (from +Quebec) in the steerage section!</p> + +<p class='c011'>I spent three or four days in Philadelphia and saw +Whitman each day (of which I have given an account +elsewhere<a id='r13'></a><a href='#f13' class='c012'><sup>[13]</sup></a>); and then went on to Massachusetts. +The visit to Whitman did not help me so much as +the first time. He was very friendly; he gave me +introductions to Dr. Bucke in Canada, and to W. +Sloane Kennedy, and was generally kind; but his +self-centredness (arising no doubt largely from +physical causes) had increased, and seemed difficult +to overcome.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In Massachusetts I stayed with my friends the +Rileys, who had at one time been on St. George’s +farm (Ruskin’s) near Sheffield. They were now +on a farm near Townsend Centre, and I remained +with them about three weeks, joining in the life, +doing a bit on the farm with them, and seeing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>something of the neighbours. George Riley, the son, +and I were chums, and spent some of the time +walking together—on one occasion a two days ‘out’ +to Wachusett, mountain and lake, a charming neighborhood. +During the time I also visited Sloane +Kennedy, at Belmont, and together we went to +Walden pond, bathed in it, and added a stone to +Thoreau’s cairn. Thence to Pennsylvania, beyond +Pittsburg, to stay with Mrs. Hardy and her three +daughters—also people I had known in Sheffield—who +together were ‘running’ a big farm and making +it pay well, an excellent example of female management. +Thence, after a pleasant stay of four or five +days, across Lake Erie to Toronto and so to London, +to see Dr. Bucke. Dr. Bucke was acting as head and +superintendent of a large Asylum for Insane folk—over +a thousand patients—which he managed excellently. +I found him very interesting. We had +long talks about Whitman; he showed me his Whitman +books, pictures, etc., and then after another four +or five days I got the steamer at Toronto, and +went down the St. Lawrence to Quebec. The Lake +itself, the passages of the thousand islands and of +the successive rapids, were a great delight. I had +only an hour or two at Quebec, unfortunately—not +time to see much of the town; and then I embarked +on the <i>Parisian</i> for home. Here again the lower +reaches of this magnificent river, the coast of Gaspé, +and of Labrador, the hundreds of icebergs we saw +that day, becalmed in a glassy blue sea, and in +blazing sunlight, were most interesting. We slipped +through the straits of Belle-Isle and had an enjoyable +passage to Liverpool.</p> + +<p class='c006'>It was, I think, some little time before the events +recorded in the first part of this chapter—though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>I cannot be quite sure about the date—that I had +the signal experience of meeting with Edward J. +Trelawny, the devoted friend of Shelley and the +companion of Byron. For years and years—until +indeed the star of Whitman rose in the West—Shelley +had been my own ideal. To grasp Trelawny’s hand +was to gain an unexpected link with a far remote past.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Trelawny’s life had been one of extraordinary +adventure. To understand even a part of it one must +read his <cite>Adventures of a Younger Son</cite> (largely his +own story), and his book <cite>Records of Shelley, Byron, +and the Author</cite> (1858 and 1878). Born in 1792 +of a well-known Cornish family he joined the Navy +as a mere boy, and then at an early age <i>deserted</i> and +took up, according to his own account, with a pirate +gang among the seas of Java and Borneo. After +some amazing adventures, he returned in about 1813 +to Europe; and soon after married an English lady. +Of this period however, between 1813 and 1820, +very little seems to be known, except that he himself +says: “I became a shackled, careworn and spirit-broken +married man of the civilized West!” It +was in 1820 at Lausanne that a German bookseller +chanced to show him <cite>Queen Mab</cite>; and a little later, +at Geneva, that he met Thomas Medwin, Shelley’s +cousin. The reading of the book and the conversations +with Medwin convinced Trelawny that here +was a man worth knowing; and he did not rest till +a year or two later he went to Pisa and actually made +Shelley’s acquaintance (early in 1822). The two +were about the same age; and it shows something +of what manner of man Trelawny was, that he so +quickly recognized the quality of Shelley; and something +of what Shelley was that he so soon commanded +the admiration of this buccaneer and man of adventure. +After Shelley’s death Trelawny was with Byron +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>a great deal, both as Captain of Byron’s yacht and +companion in his expedition to Greece; but he never +expressed a great regard for Byron—perhaps indeed +he hardly did the latter justice. Byron died at +Missolonghi in 1824; but Trelawny stayed on in +Greece, joined the Greek cause against the Turks, +took to wife the sister of Ulysses, or Odysseus, a +Greek chieftain, lived for some time with him and +his guerilla band in a cave on Mount Parnassus, and +was nearly killed there by a bullet from a spy. These +and many other things are written in the <cite>Records</cite> +above mentioned.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Later, after his return to England, and somewhere +about 1840, Trelawny fell in love with a certain +Lady Goring, and finally induced her to leave her +husband and live with him. And it was this, curiously +enough, which at a later period led to my acquaintance +with him. Lady Goring’s son, by the old Sir +Harry, married a cousin of mine, and when a boy +of sixteen or seventeen I used occasionally to go and +stay with the young pair at Highden near Worthing +where they lived, and where I was initiated in the +mysteries of coursing, ferreting, etc., which were +very much in the order of the day there. Charles +Goring, my cousin’s husband, was the very type of +the “bold bad baronet” of the shilling novels—a +type fairly common then, though almost extinct now—a +rather handsome man with fierce twirlable moustache, +and thoroughly bearish manners, given to +swearing and drinking, and devoted to his dogs and +guns. Whatever induced my cousin—who was the +sweetest and gentlest of girls—to marry him I do +not know. But that is always the way: the mild and +forgiving women marry the wicked men, and of +course make the latter all the wickeder by doing so! +In course of time he grew a little tired of his wife +<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>(there were no children) and behaved badly towards +her. Then his mother died—whom he had not seen +since she ran away with Trelawny, some twenty-five +or more years before; and so, seized with some sort +of compunction after all this time, Charles Goring +went on a pilgrimage to his mother’s adopted home; +found there Trelawny <i>and</i> his mother’s daughter by +Trelawny—his own stepsister, by that time a rather +beautiful girl or young woman.</p> + +<p class='c011'>From all this complications arose, which I need +not go into, but which ultimately in an indirect way +led to a somewhat celebrated affair in the Divorce +Courts—the Goring Case of the year 1878. Suffice +it to say that soon after these unfortunate squabbles +were over, Charles Goring had the grace to die, and +my cousin (who had obtained a separation order) +was left quite free. It was then that I asked her +one day to give me an introduction to Edward +Trelawny, which she willingly did.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I found him at the house which he was then +occupying in Pelham Crescent, S.W.—No. 7 I think—a +quite old man of about eighty-seven or eighty-eight, +rugged to a degree, with sunken eyes and projecting +cheek-bones, but with a strange gleam of +fire about him even at that age—not unlike some +semi-extinct volcano—and the appearance of what +had once been a rather massive and powerful frame. +He was sitting in a high chair near the fire with a +pile of books on the floor beside him. “You are +interested in Shelley,” he said. And then without +waiting for a reply: “He was our greatest poet +since Shakespeare.” And then: “He couldn’t have +been the poet he was if he had not been an Atheist.” +That was a pretty good beginning; he rolled out the +“Atheist” with evident satisfaction. He went on +to express his contempt for the contemporary poets, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>like Tennyson and Browning; then returned to +Shelley: “I am not sure he wasn’t the greatest man +we have ever had: all these others just tinker with +the surface; Shelley goes down to the roots.” We +talked a little about individual poems, but I forget +what. Then he took up one of the books beside +him—a Godwin’s <cite>Political Justice</cite>, and read extracts +from it—always with a choice which showed his +hatred of modern Civilization. (And this was interesting +from one who had seen so much of the world +outside the bounds of our civilization.) Indeed there +was something astonishing in this old man’s intensity +of rebelliousness, which extreme age had apparently +done nothing to reduce. He directed my attention to +an oil-portrait over the mantelpiece: “Do you know +who that is?” I guessed. It was a portrait—apparently +not a very good one—of Mary, Percy Shelley’s +wife<a id='r14'></a><a href='#f14' class='c012'><sup>[14]</sup></a>: the face rather milk-and-watery in expression. +“She did him no good,” he said—“was always +a drag on him—shackling him with jealousies and +the conventions of social life.” [Trelawny was never +quite fair to any one he did not like, and it was +evident he did not like Mary—though in the earlier +days of their acquaintance he had certainly been fond +of her.] “Poets,” he continued, “ought never to +marry. It’s the greatest mistake. A poet ought to +be free as air—free to say and do what he pleases—and +he cannot be free if he is married.” This was +pretty good from a man who had been so very <i>much</i> +married as Trelawny!</p> + +<p class='c011'>He had had four wives at least—no one knew how +many more. His first wife (as appears also from +<cite>The Younger Son</cite>) was a girl of Borneo. The second +was the lady who filled somehow the gap between +1813 and 1820. The third, as we have seen, was a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Greek, the sister of Odysseus; the fourth was the +former Lady Goring. There were many stories about +him in the family, mostly no doubt somewhat embellished. +His second wife, it was said, was only a +small woman, and when she was “naughty” he +would dangle her by the scruff of her neck <i>out of +the window</i>, until she was good again. He had +various dried heads, of pirates and others, among his +treasures; and swords and daggers stained with the +blood of enemies! Our conversation rambled on, +but at this distance of time I forget details. As +I say, it gave me a strange thrill on leaving (and +he died soon after) to grasp the hand of one who had +been so near to Shelley, and whose character undoubtedly +had a great fascination for the poet. In +Shelley’s <cite>Fragments of an Unfinished Drama</cite> (in +which the Pirate on the Enchanted Isle is generally +supposed to represent Trelawny), the poet says—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,</div> + <div class='line'>As terrible and lovely as a tempest.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c014'>On the other hand Trelawny in the Preface to his +<cite>Records</cite> says of Shelley: “After glancing one day +at an old Italian romance, in which a knight of Malta +throws down the gauntlet defying all infidels, Shelley +remarked: ‘<i>I</i> should have picked it up. All our +knowledge is derived from infidels.’” These two +quotations give a good idea of the relation between +the two men.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span> + <h2 class='c005'>VII<br> SHEFFIELD AND SOCIALISM</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>During my absence in the United States, my friend +Harold Cox, who had just left Cambridge, came +down to Millthorpe and spent a good part of the +summer there—remaining a bit after my return home. +He wanted to get manual and farm and garden +experience, and that same autumn he plunged into +farming—took a farm at Tilford in Surrey, and inducted +a little colony into it. But the land was +mere sand, and the experience of one winter and +spring was enough! In less than a year he gave +the place up, and went out, by way of a change, +to India, to the Anglo-Mohammedan College at +Futtehgur. While in India he went in ’85 or ’86 +for a tour in Cashmere, and from Cashmere he sent +me a pair of Indian sandals. I had asked him, +before he went out, to send some likely pattern of +sandals, as I felt anxious to try some myself. I +soon found the joy of wearing them. And after +a little time I set about making them. I got two +or three lessons from W. Lill, a bootmaker friend +in Sheffield, and soon succeeded in making a good +many pairs for myself and various friends. Since +then the trade has grown into quite a substantial +one. G. Adams took it up at Millthorpe in 1889; +making, I suppose, about a hundred or more pairs +a year; and since his death it has been carried on +at the Garden City, Letchworth.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>In 1885 I published the second edition of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>—still through John Heywood; and early +in ’86 quite an important local event occurred in +the establishment of our Sheffield Socialist Society. +One or two of us beat round the town and got +together a few Socialists and advanced Radicals; +we persuaded William Morris to come down (early +in March)—and the result of that was the formation +of the Society.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At that time, William Morris, having with a few +others parted from Hyndman and the S.D.F., had +founded the Socialist League—branches of which were +springing up merrily all over the country. And it +was William Morris’s great hope, often expressed +in the <cite>Commonweal</cite> and elsewhere, that these +branches growing and spreading, would before long +“reach hands” to each other and form a network +over the land—would constitute in fact “the New +Society” within the framework of the old, and +destined ere long to replace the old. No doubt the +forces of reaction—the immense apathy of the masses, +the immense resistance of the official and privileged +classes, entrenched behind the Law and the State, +and the immense and growing power of Money—were +things not then fully realized and understood. There +seemed a good hope for the realization of Morris’ +dream—and we most of us shared in it. But History +is a difficult horse to drive. In this matter of the +Socialist movement, as in other matters, it has always +been liable to take the most unexpected turns; and +the little League societies after flourishing gaily for +a few years—suddenly began to wane and die out; +I believe indeed that at this moment there is not +one of them left. Morris saw with some sadness +that his hope was not going to be fulfilled—and +though I do not think that he altogether lost heart +<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>he was fain in his last years to bury his disappointment +in a return to his art work, and even to favour +as a forlorn hope the Parliamentary side in revolutionary +politics! It is curious indeed in this matter +to see how, of all the innumerable little societies—of +the S.D.F., the League, the Fabians, the Christian +Socialists, the Anarchists, the Freedom groups, the +I.L.P., the Clarion societies, and local groups of +various names—all supporting one side or another +of the general Socialist movement—not one of them +has grown to any great volume, or to commanding +and permanent influence; and how yet, and at the +same time, the general teaching and ideals of the +movement have permeated society in the most remarkable +way, and have deeply infected the views +of all classes, as well as general literature and even +municipal and imperial politics. Perhaps it is a +matter for much congratulation that things have +turned out so. If the movement had been pocketed +by any one man or section it would have been +inevitably narrowed down. As it is, it has taken on +something of an oceanic character; and if by its +very lack of narrowness it has lost a little in immediate +results, its ultimate success we may think is +all the more assured.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The real value of the modern Socialist movement—it +has always seemed to me—has not lain so much +in its actual constructive programme as (1) in the +fact that it has provided a text for a searching +criticism of the old society and of the lives of the +rich, and (2) the fact that it has enshrined a most +glowing and vital enthusiasm towards the realization +of a new society. It is these two points which have +always drawn and attached me to it. The constructive +details of the future are things about which +there may and indeed must be different opinions. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>The necessity of organization in society, and of united +action, the avoidance of officialism and bureaucracy, +the handling of the land so as to afford the most +general access to it, the barring of monopolies and +of all industrial parasitism, the liberation of labour +to dignity and self-reliance, the conduct of public +ownership, the questions of taxation, representation, +education, etc.—these are all most complex affairs +whose united and detailed solution can only proceed +step by step, by slow trial and experience. We +must expect mistakes and differences of opinion here. +Nevertheless I think we may say that in the broad +lines of its constructive policy Socialism has taken +the right course and the one which time will justify. +It has laid down in fact once for all the principles +that parasitism and monopoly must cease, and it +has set before itself the ideal of a society which +while it accords to every individual as full scope +as possible for the exercise of his faculties and enjoyment +of the fruits of his own labour, will in return +expect from the individual his hearty contribution +to the general well-being, and at least to claim +nothing for his own which (or the value of which) +he has not by his own effort produced. Towards +the fulfilment of these aims Socialism has proposed +a guarded public ownership of land and of some +of the more important industries (guarded, that is, +against the dangers of officialism), and it seems +likely that this general programme is the one along +which western society will work in the near future; +that is, till such time as the State, quâ State, and +all efficient Government, are superseded by the voluntary +and instinctive consent and mutual helpfulness +of the people—when of course the more especially +Anarchist ideal would be realized.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I say, while there is practically no dissent +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>about the future form of society as one which shall +embody to the fullest extent the two opposite poles +of Communism and Individualism in one vital unity, +there may and naturally must be differences on the +question of the detailed working out of the problem, +and indeed it may well be that the solution will take +somewhat different forms in different places and +among different peoples.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It has not been, I repeat, the belief in special +constructive details as panaceas which has led me +into the Socialist camp, so much as the fact that the +movement has been a distinct challenge to the old +order and a call to the rich and those in power to +remodel society and their own lives; and that other +fact that within the Socialist camp has burned that +wonderful enthusiasm and belief in a new ideal of +fraternity—which however crude and inexperienced +it may at times appear is surely destined to conquer +and rule the world at last.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is this latter side of the movement which +by the outsider is so little known and understood. +Those who stand outside a revolutionary agitation, +or who look down on it from above, necessarily +only see the defiant subversive elements of it, they +do not guess the glowing heart within. To me, +passing from time to time from one stratum of life +to quite another, it was a strange experience and +not without its comic side, to see the wildly different +features which one and the same movement wore +to those within and those without; to hear Socialism +spoken of from above, as nothing but an envious +shriek and a threat, a gospel of bread and butter, +a grab, a “divide up all round”—the work of unscrupulous +demagogues and tinsel politicians; and +then the next moment to pass into the heart of +the thing and to find oneself in an atmosphere of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>the most simple fraternity and idealism, where the +coming of the kingdom of Heaven, a kingdom of +social order and decency, was entertained with a +childlike faith that might almost make one smile; +where it seemed only necessary to go out into the +streets and preach the better ideals for crowds to flock +to the standard; and where, if a betterment of +conditions was the main thing sought for, it was +a betterment of social life and a satisfaction of the +needs of the heart fully as much as an increased +allowance of bread and butter. It was a strange +experience to pass from cold to hot, and from hot +to cold, as it were, and to realize how little those +in the one current could understand what was going +on in the other.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Certainly from what experience I have had of +a movement at one time thought very revolutionary, +I am inclined to think that most revolutions must +have been pretty well justified before they took place. +One hears of dangerous mobs led by demagogues and +fed on fancied wrongs; and of course there are +such things in every movement as self-seeking +blusterers, or designing misleaders; there is +ignorance and non-reasoning exasperation; but my +experience of the (British) masses is that instead +of being too inflammable, they are surely only too +<i>slow</i> to move, too slow to perceive the burdens +which they bear, or to point out the cause of their +own suffering; and—in the Socialist agitation—the +number and influence of the blusterers and self-seekers +compared with the genuine leaders has +always been very small. No, revolutions do not take +place without cause; and I doubt whether in any +case the excesses accompanying a rising have exceeded +the cruelties and injuries of the preceding +tyranny. There is such a heart of tenderness and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>patient common sense in the mass of the people—everywhere +I believe—as to convince one that, notwithstanding +the slanders that have been heaped up +by the armchair historian, they are really more inclined +to endure than to accuse, more ready to forgive +than retaliate. No—the general Socialist movement +(including therein the Anarchist) has done and is +still doing a great and necessary work—and I am +proud to have belonged to it. It has defined a +dream and an ideal, that of the common life conjoined +to the free individuality, which somewhere +and somewhen must be realized, because it springs +from and is the expression of the very root-nature +of Man.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Our “Sheffield Socialists,” though common working +men and women, understood well enough the +broad outlines of this ideal. They hailed William +Morris and his work with the most sincere appreciation. +I found among them the most interesting +personalities, saturated for the most part, as I have +said, with the thought of fraternity and fellowship; +and I made one or two lifelong friends.</p> +<div id='i144' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i144.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>G. E. H.<br> <br> (One of the first “Sheffield Socialists.”)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>We organized lectures, addresses, pamphlets, with +a street-corner propaganda which soon brought us +in amusing and exciting incidents in the way of +wrangles with the police and the town-crowds. At first +an atmosphere of considerable suspicion rested upon +the movement, and dynamite and daggers were +assumed by outsiders to be indispensable parts of +our equipment; but as time went on, and after a +few years, this died away—and where there had been +only jeers or taunts at first, crowds came to listen +with serious and sympathetic mien. A dozen or +twenty at most formed the moving and active element +of our society—though its membership may have been +a hundred or more; and these disposed themselves +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>to their various functions. Mrs. Usher, large-bosomed +and large-hearted, would move on the outskirts +of our open-air meetings, armed with a bundle +of literature. She was an excellent saleswoman and +few could resist her hearty appeal “Buy this +pamphlet, love, it will do you good!” Even in +the streets or the tramcars the most solemn and +substantial old gentlemen fell a prey to her. Her +brothers, the two Binghams, were among our two +speakers, and both of them pretty effective, the one +in a logical, the other in a more oratorical way. +They were provision merchants in the town; and +their business suffered at first, but afterwards gained, +by the connection. Then there was Shortland, +handsome, fiery and athletic, an engine fitter, +always ready for a row and to act as ‘chucker +out’ if required. Or J. M. Brown, who took quite +an opposite part. He (tailor by trade) the very +picture of kindness and broad good-nature would +move among the crowd as if he hardly belonged to +us, and engaging persuasively in conversation, first +with one and then with another, would draw many +a doubter into the fold; or George E. Hukin, with +his Dutch-featured face and Dutch build—no speaker, +nor prominent in public—but though young an excellent +help at our committee meetings, where his +shrewd strong brain and tactful nature gave his +counsels much weight; and always from the +beginning a special ally of mine; or George Adams, +afterwards associated with me at Millthorpe, with +his amusing quips and sallies, and plucky +antagonisms, a good friend and a good hater, +and always ready for an adventurous bout; or +Raymond Unwin, who would come over from +Chesterfield to help us, a young man of cultured +antecedents, of first-rate ability and good sense, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>healthy, democratic, vegetarian, and now I need not +say a well-known architect and promoter of Garden +Cities.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then at one time there was Fred Charles—who was +afterwards accused of an anarchist plot and sentenced, +most unfairly, to ten years’ hard labour. He was +already leaning to the Anarchist side of the movement, +but was ready to work with us; and certainly was one +of the most devoted of workers. No surrender or +sacrifice for the ‘cause’ was too great for him; +and as to his own earnings (as clerk) or possessions, +he practically gave them all away to tramps or the +unemployed. The case was tried at Stafford in +March ’92 by Justice Hawkins, and though the +incriminating evidence was quite slender yet, there +being a panic on at the time with regard to +Anarchism, there was an obvious determination to +convict. I appeared in the box to testify to Charles’ +excellent character and public spirit, but needless to +say without success. Or there was Burton, enginetenter, +rather a type of the stout, somewhat self-satisfied +and ignorant street-speaker, who would get us +into trouble shouting “The land for the people!” +or other cant phrases of the period, with really no +clear idea of what they meant, and would have to +be rescued when attacked or challenged by some +keener critic among the audience; or again, Jonathan +Taylor, the very opposite in type to these, tall, +lean, logical and conclusive to the last degree; +who with a kind of homely unconquerable humour, +compelled his hearers from finger to finger, and from +point to point, of his argument, and somehow always +succeeded in holding the most restive crowd, and +for any period. He had been on the school-board at +one time, and was useful to us also by his knowledge +of local and municipal expediencies. Or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>again, John Furniss: he was a remarkable man, +and perhaps the very first to preach the modern +Socialism in the streets of Sheffield. A quarryman +by trade, keen and wiry both in body and in mind, +a thorough-going <i>Christian</i> Socialist, and originally +I believe a bit of a local preacher; he had somehow +at an early date got hold of the main ideas +of the movement; and in the early ’eighties used +to stride in—he and his companion George Pearson—five +or six miles over the Moors, to Sheffield in order +to speak at the Pump or the Monolith; and then +stride out again in the middle of the night. And +this he kept up for years and years, and when later +he migrated to another quarry about the same +distance from Chesterfield did exactly the same thing +there; for perhaps twenty years, with marvellous +energy and perseverance, he must have kept up this +propaganda; and the amount of effective influence +he must have exercised would be hard to reckon.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Such were some of the characters with whom I +found myself associated, and for five or six years +we carried on the Society with the utmost friendliness, +accord and enthusiasm. It was a most interesting +time. I knew all those mentioned and many +others, very intimately, was familiar in their houses, +stayed with them, knew all their goings-out and +comings-in, and something of the details of their +various trades.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In 1887 we took a large house and shop in +Scotland Street, a poor district of the town; and +opened a café, using the large room above for a +meeting and lecture room, and the house for a joint +residence for some of us who were more immediately +concerned in carrying on the business. We had +all sorts of social gatherings, lectures, teas, entertainments +in the Hall—the wives and sisters of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>“comrades” helping, especially in the social work; +we had Annie Besant, Charlotte Wilson, Kropotkin, +Hyndman, and other notables down to speak for +us; we gave teas to the slum-children who dwelt +in the neighboring crofts and alleys (but these had +at first to be given up on account of the poor +little things tearing themselves and each other to +pieces, perfect mobs of them, in their frantic attempts +to gain admittance—a difficulty which no arrangement +of tickets or of personal supervision seemed to +obviate); and we organized excursions into municipal +politics; and country propaganda. This last +was often amusing as well as interesting. While, in +the towns, as time went on, audiences grew in +numbers and attentiveness, it still remained very +difficult to capture the country districts. The miners +would really not be uninterested, but in their sullen +combative way they would take care not to show +it. Many a time we have gone down to some mining +village and taken up our stand on some heap of +slag or broken wall, and the miners would come +round and stand about or sit down deliberately <i>with +their backs to the speaker</i>, and spit, and converse, +as if quite heedless of the oration going on. But +after a time, and as speaker succeeded speaker, one +by one they would turn round—their lower jaws +dropping—fairly captivated by the argument. It was +much the same with the country rustics—but as a +rule less successful. I remember on one occasion +seven or eight of us, armed with literature, going +for a long country walk to Hathersage in the Derbyshire +dales. We had Tom Maguire with us, from +Leeds, an excellent speaker, full of Irish wit and +persuasiveness. We set him upon a stoneheap in +the middle of the village and standing round him +ourselves while he spoke, acted as decoy ducks to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>bring the villagers together. The latter full of +curiosity came, in moderate numbers, but not one +of them would approach nearer than a distance of +twenty or thirty yards—just far enough to make the +speaker despair of really reaching them. In vain +we separated and going round tried to coax them +to come nearer. In vain the speaker shouted himself +hoarse and fired off his best jokes. Not a +bit of it—they weren’t going to be fooled by us! +and at last red in the face and out of breath and +with a string of curses, Tom descended from his +cairn, and we all, shaking the dust of the village +off our feet, departed!</p> + +<p class='c011'>I meanwhile and during these years, not only took +part in our local work, but spoke and lectured in +the Socialist connection all round the country—at +Bradford, Halifax, Leeds, Glasgow, Dundee, Edinburgh, +Hull, Liverpool, Nottingham and other places—my +subjects the failures of the present Commercial +system, and the possible reorganization of the +future. As to the Café, we were only able to hold +to it for a year. Though quite a success from the +propagandist point of view, financially it was a +failure. The refreshment department was not +patronized nearly enough to make it pay. The neighborhood +was an exceedingly poor one. And so +we were obliged to surrender the place, and retire +to smaller quarters. During that year however I +really lived most of the time at the Scotland Street +place. I occupied a large attic at the top of the +house, <i>almost</i> high enough to escape the smells of +the street below, but exposed to showers of blacks +which fell from the innumerable chimneys around. +In the early morning at 5 a.m. there was the strident +sound of the ‘hummers’ and the clattering of innumerable +clogs of men and girls going to their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>work, and on till late at night there were drunken +cries and shouting. Far around stretched nothing +but factory chimneys and foul courts inhabited by +the wretched workers. It was, I must say, frightfully +depressing; and all the more so because of +tragic elements in my personal life at the time. +Only the enthusiasm of our social work, and the +abiding thoughts which had inspired <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite> kept me going. I spent my spare +time during the year in arranging and editing the +collection of songs and music called <cite>Chants of +Labour</cite>—a thing which might have been much better +done by some one else, but I could find no one +to do it. And it was a queer experience, collecting +these songs of hope and enthusiasm, and composing +such answering tunes and harmonies as I could, in +the midst of these gloomy and discordant conditions.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I say, we only stayed a year here, and as far +as my health was concerned I don’t think I could +have endured it much longer. I realized the terrible +drawback to health and vitality consequent on living +in these slums of manufacturing towns, and the way +these conditions are inevitably sapping the strength +of our populations.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span> + <h2 class='c005'>VIII<br> TRADE AND PHILOSOPHY</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>In 1887 or 1888 I turned over the organization and +commercial side of the garden at Millthorpe to my +friend Albert Fearnehough. During the first four +years or so I had taken the responsibility, and +by many mistakes bought some valuable experience—but +now I found that my literary and social work +demanded so much time that I wanted my brain free +from agricultural cares. So after this, while still contributing +a fair amount of manual labour I left the +organization alone.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I cannot say that, adopting the commercial +standard, the experiment at Millthorpe could at any +time be called <i>paying</i>. At the same time it was +never (to me) disheartening. Taking strawberries +as our main crop, we found, with several years’ +experience, that £40 per acre was a fair estimate +of the gross produce. (And I do not think that +this is excessive since I know that £60 or £70 is +a not uncommon estimate.) If we had put, say, +5 acres out of our 7½ under strawberries, this would +have yielded £200 a year, which, allowing for extra +labour, manure, etc., would still have maintained a +man and his family; 100 fowls would probably +have paid the rent (if it had not been a freehold); +and the 2½ acres would have gone far to keep a +horse or pony. But I had not the time to give to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>a complete organization, nor perhaps felt the necessary +interest in it; and my friend had hardly the +required energy; so we just paddled along, keeping +two or three acres only under spade cultivation, and +making a small sum, but not sufficient to meet +expenses. I think, as I say, that the thing might +have been made to pay in the commercial sense—but +there is no doubt that under prevailing conditions +and prices in England, agriculture of any +kind requires pretty hard work and long hours to +make it fairly successful. One of the reasons of +this is the want of a prosperous country population +and the local markets which this would afford. With +industrial villages scattered over the land, eggs, fruits, +vegetables would be in great demand—even in country +districts—prices would be fair, the middleman would +be dispensed with; even the horse and cart might +not be needed. But it is quite a different matter +when the stuff has to be sent to a distant market, +there to be bought by hucksters, and to feed middlemen +and railway shareholders, before it feeds either +the producer or consumer. This trouble is really +one of the great troubles of modern civilization—and +while there is no doubt a certain advantage gained by +division of labour among nations and provinces, and +by the raising of products in the most suitable localities, +it is a matter quite open to question whether +the enormous expenses of the present world-wide +exchange and the maintenance of these swarms of +merchants, traders, shipping and railroad companies, +with their innumerable shareholders and employees, +does not quite obliterate or absorb the advantage +so gained. Indeed when one thinks of the immense +numbers of people in this way withdrawn from any +direct service in production and made systematically +dependent on the others, one may question whether +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>the gain does not at times come very near a loss; +and one ceases to wonder that the condition of the +actual producers, agricultural and others, remains +so poor and unimproved.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In ’86 and ’87 I prepared for the Press and +published the volume called <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>. The +papers composing it had been written at different +times during the two or three years preceding—some +of them at Brighton, during intervals when family +affairs had taken me back there for a time. +Especially I remember writing <cite>Desirable Mansions</cite> +in this way in an interval when I was tangled in +family business and the idiotic life of the place—and +with a kind of savage glee as I sought to tear +the whole sickly web to pieces. Descended from +the transcendental generative thought of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite> on the one hand, and my new-found +acquaintance with intensely practical life on the +other, these papers, though crude in some respects, +bear I believe a certain impetus about them. Once +or twice, by the violent opposition they have excited +(always a reassuring thing for an author), I have +had evidence of this. When <cite>Desirable Mansions</cite> +was first issued, as a separate pamphlet, I received +a copy, anonymously sent and written all over with +the most furious and scurrilous denials, challenges, +abuse, etc.; and after the publication of <cite>England’s +Ideal</cite> as a volume, a friend of mine had a letter +from a lady, in which she said that her husband +had been reading the book, and that she had got +hold of it and “poked it into the fire, as she found +it was unsettling him so!” I have always regretted +that I did not get hold of that letter, with leave +to publish it. It would have made such a splendid +advertisement.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The influences of Ruskin, in style and moral bias, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>and of Marx in economics, are very apparent in +the volume; and though I do not think that I +ever gave myself ‘hand and foot’ to Marx in his +views; yet I was very willing to adopt his theory +of surplus value as a working hypothesis. The +truth is that though no exact measure of ‘surplus +value’ or of the amount of which the workman +is ‘defrauded’ by the capitalist, is possible—and +though any theory which attempts to exactly define +this amount is sure to be open to criticism<a id='r15'></a><a href='#f15' class='c012'><sup>[15]</sup></a>; yet, +the general fact of surplus value, namely that the +workman does <i>not</i> get the full value of his labours, +and that he is taken advantage of by the capitalist +is obvious—and serious—enough. And it is on this +general position that <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>—like the whole +Socialist movement—is founded. The seriousness of +the matter may be seen from the fact that from this +original falsity (of the appropriation of other folks’ +labour) are flowing to-day by a perfectly logical evolution +two other great falsities or failures—Commercial +Crises and shopkeeping Imperialism—which are +now threatening ruin to all the Western Civilizations.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Commercial Crises, as has been often explained +(see <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>, pp. 42, 43) flow primarily from +the fact that the working masses for their wages +only receive a fraction of the value of the goods +produced, and therefore can only <i>buy back</i> a +fractional part of the same, while the capitalist +classes (though with their share of the swag they +<i>could</i> buy back the remainder) do not want more +than a part of the remainder. Consequently there +occurs every year on the one hand an accumulation +of goods unused and on the other an accumulation +of capital waiting for reinvestment; and these two +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>things from time to time clog the Commercial +Machine so as to render it hardly workable, and will +probably in the end bring it to a standstill. As to +modern Imperialism it is a logical outcome of the last-mentioned +item, the accumulation of capital waiting +for reinvestment. For all the openings for capital +in the mother country having been filled up there +remains nothing but to invest it in manufactures +abroad. And since other Western countries are +similarly filled up, there further remains nothing but +to go to savage and outlying nations and force <i>them</i> +to become our employees and our customers. But to +do this with safety requires military occupation +and the country’s flag. Hence in a nutshell the +flag-waving and Imperialism of the day.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In 1889 I got off <cite>Civilization: Its Cause and +Cure</cite>—another series of reprints. And here too the +philosophical position, though often crudely expressed, +and with more attempt at <i>suggestion</i> than +finish, is I think in the main well-founded and +valuable. The attacks on Civilization and on Modern +Science were both wrung from me, as it were by +some inner evolution or conviction and against my +will; but in both cases the position once taken +became to me fully justified. In neither case did +I take any great precautions to guard against misunderstanding, +and in consequence I have been freely +accused of blinding myself—in respect of Civilization—to +modern progress, and of desiring to return +to the state of primitive man; and in respect to +Science—of preferring ignorance to intelligence. But +no careful reader would make these mistakes. The +monumental, patient, one may almost say heroic, work +which has been done by Science during the nineteenth +century, in the way of exact observation, +classification, and detailed practical application, can +<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>never be ignored and can hardly be over-estimated. +None the less the very decided criticism in <cite>Civilization: +Its Cause and Cure</cite>, of the limits of scientific +theorizing and authority has been quite necessary; +as well as the forcible insistence on the fact that +Science only deals with the surface of life and not +with its substance. As to Civilization the advances +of Humanity during the Civilization period have been +largely bound up with the advance of Science and +have chiefly consisted perhaps in increase of technical +mastery over Nature and materials. Like every +increase of power this has led to greater opportunity +of good and greater opportunity of evil. On +the moral side however, we may believe that men’s +sympathies <i>have</i> broadened and widened during the +civilization period—so that there is a larger and more +general sense of Humanity. On the other hand +during this period something of the intensity of the +old tribal kinship and community of life has been +lost, as well as something of the instinctive kinship +of each individual to Nature. It is obvious enough +that there can be no <i>return</i> to pre-scientific or pre-civilization +conditions—though it may be hoped that +a later age may combine some of the virtues of +the more primitive man with the powers that have +been gained during civilization.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In the year following [1890] something happened +which in a curious vague way I had been expecting +to happen for some time. It almost amounted to +my making the acquaintance of a pre-civilization +man of a very high type. I have mentioned how +the <cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite> falling into my hands at a certain +date, gave the clue to and precipitated the crystallization +of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. From that time of +course I was intensely interested in the wise men +of the East, and that germinal thought which in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>various ages of the world has become the nucleus +and impulse of new movements. During the years +’80 to ’90 there was a great deal of Theosophy +and Oriental philosophy of various sorts current in +England, and much talk and speculation, sometimes +very ill-founded, about ‘adepts,’ ‘mahatmas,’ and +‘gurus.’ I too felt a great desire to see for myself +one of these representatives of the ancient wisdom. +But it did not seem very clear how the thing would +come about. However at last there came a very +pressing letter from my friend Arunáchalam in Ceylon +(the very friend who had given me the <cite>Bhagavat +Gita</cite> at an earlier date), asking me to come out +and meet a certain Gñani to whose discourses and +teaching he was himself already deeply indebted, +and who was willing to give some time to me if +I should come. So the way was made plain, and +I immediately made arrangements to go.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I have given a careful account of this Gñani, his +personality and teaching, in my book <cite>Adam’s Peak +to Elephanta</cite>—and I need not repeat the material +here. As I say, he was in some respects a high +type of pre-civilization man. For, like most men +of this class in India, he identified himself so closely +with the ancient religious tradition that one could +almost feel him to be one of the old Vedic race of +two thousand or three thousand years back. His +modes of thought, appearance, personality, all suggested +this. And here in this man it was of absorbing +interest to feel one came in contact with the +root-thought of all existence—the intense <i>consciousness</i> +(not conviction merely) of the oneness of all +life—the germinal idea which in one form or another +has spread from nation to nation, and become the +soul and impulse of religion after religion. However +one might differ from him in points of detail, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>in matters of modern science or of politics, one +felt that he, and his predecessors three thousand +years ago, had seized the central stronghold, and +were possessors of an outlook and of intuitions which +the modern might truly envy. After seeing Whitman, +the amazing representative of the same spirit in all +its voluminous modern unfoldment—seven years +before—this visit to the Eastern sage was like going +back to the pure lucid intensely transparent source +of some mighty and turbulent stream. It was a +returning from West to East, and a completing of +the circle of the Earth.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is curious that <i>his</i> teacher (Tilleinathan Swamy) +seems to have told this Gñani many years before +that an Englishman or Englishmen would come to +him. Probably he foresaw, from the growth of the +English mind, that the time was not very far distant +when the English would rise to an understanding +of the great Indian tradition and would come over +to study it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Looking back now [1901] after ten years, on +my personal experiences of the Eastern teachings, +I seem to realize more and more that the true line +is that (first adequately pointed out by Whitman) +which consists in combining and harmonizing <i>both</i> +body and soul, the outer and the inner. They are +the eternal and needful complements of each other. +The Eastern teaching has or has had a tendency +to err on one side, the Western on the other. The +Indian methods and attitude cause an ingathering +and quiescence of the mind, accompanied often by +great illumination; but if carried to excess they +result in over-quiescence, and even torpor. The +Western habits tend towards an over-activity and +external distraction of the mind, which may result +in disintegration. The true line (as in other cases) +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>is not in mediocrity, but in a bold and sane acceptance +of both sides, so as to make them offset and +balance each other, and indeed so that each shall +make the extension of the other more and more +possible. Growth is the method and the solution. +The soul goes out and returns, goes out and returns; +and this is its daily, almost hourly, action—just as +it is an epitome of the æonian life-history of every +individual.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This visit to the East in some sense completed +the circle of my experiences. It took two or three +years for its results to soak and settle into my mind; +but by that time I felt that my general attitude +towards the world was not likely to change +much, and that it only remained to secure and +define what I had got hold of, and to get it +decently built out if possible into actual life and +utterance.</p> + +<p class='c006'>With regard to this process of “building out” +into the actual world I should feel very ungrateful +if I did not acknowledge my indebtedness to the +Nature-conditions around me. For any sustained +and more or less original work it seems almost necessary +that one should have the quietude and strength +of Nature at hand, like a great reservoir from which +to draw. The open air, and the physical and mental +health that goes with it, the sense of space and +freedom in the Sky, the vitality and amplitude of +the Earth—these are real things from which one +can only cut oneself off at serious peril and risk +to one’s immortal soul. And there is somewhat of +the same potency and vitality in the very life of the +mass-peoples who are in touch with these foundation-facts +and outdoor occupations. It was a true +instinct or a gracious Fate—and I realized this more +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>and more—which had compelled me to locate myself +in the midst of such surroundings.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I should feel ungrateful too if I did not express +my indebtedness to the lovely little stream which +like a live thing ran night and day, winter and +summer, full of grace and music at the foot of my +garden. It entered into my life and became part +of it.<a id='r16'></a><a href='#f16' class='c012'><sup>[16]</sup></a> The hut, which I had built at Bradway +to write the earlier part of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> in, +I transported with me to Millthorpe, and planked +it down on the edge of the brook, facing the sun +and the south; and thenceforth it served a double +purpose—that of a study in which, a hundred yards +away from the house, I could write in comparative +safety from interruption; and that of a bathing +shelter with its feet almost in the water. Here +through uncounted hours I continued the production +of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> and my other books, +avoiding always the act of writing within the house +except when absolutely forced to retire by stress +of weather or other causes, and rejoicing always +to get the sentiment of the open free world into +my pages; and here I came, either alone or with +friends, to rest from labour in the garden, or to +bathe and be refreshed after the heat of the day.</p> +<div id='i161' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i161.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>THE HUT AND THE BROOK.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span> + <h2 class='c005'>IX<br> MILLTHORPE AND HOUSEHOLD LIFE</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>It must be admitted, however, that the acclimatization +to the new and somewhat limited and strenuous +life at Millthorpe did not take place all at once; and +perhaps the fact of my having burnt my boats, as +it were, and committed myself as I had done, was +after all a good thing. For some little time I +felt restive and unsettled at the enchainment—partly, +as I have said, because the Thoreau ideal, opening +out <i>underneath</i>, took the bottom out of the commercial +and rather materialistic life in the way of +Trade in which I was embarking; and partly +because anyhow the latter sort of life—though +valuable as an experience—was not by its nature +likely to hold my interest for long. The rustics +too and farmfolk around me were on my first arrival +a little strange, and inclined, as often happens in +such cases, to hold off and be suspicious of a newcomer; +my reputation as a Socialist alarmed them; +there was none of the cordiality of little Bradway; +the climate was damp and the winters were long; +and I had occasional relapses of feeling about +it all.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Yet if I <i>had</i> cut the painter and floated my little +boat away onto the great deep I doubt whether the +result would have been favorable. After all, all +life means a denial of <i>part</i> of oneself. It is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>obviously impossible to find a situation or conditions +which will satisfy <i>all the demands</i> of one’s nature—millionfold +complex as they are. Some must be +sacrificed. To moan over that necessity or to pose +as a martyr is absurd. All one can reasonably +do is to find a situation which will satisfy the <i>root</i>-demands, +and the <i>rooting</i> demands—those that have +the power of growth in them. Then the seed, though +it seem to die in its prison-house, will assuredly +find its outlet and quicken into a new life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I could not complain in this case that the root-needs +of my temperament were unsatisfied. Quite +the contrary. I was plunged in the very heart of +Nature—that Nature which for many years I had +felt the need of—in a singularly beautiful Derbyshire +valley with plentiful woods, streams and moors; +I had already become familiar with the mass-folk +of Sheffield, and found friends among the workers +in many trades; and was beginning to know the +rustics of my own neighborhood. I was leading +an outdoor life, and my health was every day +becoming firmer and more consolidated. I had +escaped from the domination of Civilization in its +two most fatal and much-detested forms, respectability +and cheap intellectualism. In my happy valley +there was no resident squire of any kind, nor even +a single “villa,” while the church, more than a +mile distant, was quite amiably remote! We were +just a little population of manual workers, sincerely +engrossed in our several occupations. And finally, +and perhaps more than all, I had found a firm +basis and secure vantage-ground for my literary and +productive work.</p> + +<p class='c011'>People have often asked me if I did not miss +the life I had left behind. I cannot truly say that +I ever did. At Brighton and at Cambridge and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>partly in London I had had my fill of balls and +dinner-parties and the usual entertainments, and when +at the close of those two dispensations (somewhere +in the early ’eighties) <cite>I gave my dress clothes away</cite>, +I did so without any misgiving and without any fear +that I should need them again. The fact is that +though it is perfectly true that by steadily and persistently +going to evening parties and social functions +one may come into touch with interesting or remarkable +people of sorts, yet the game is hardly worth +the candle. Through leagues of boredom, platitudes +and general futility one occasionally has the satisfaction +of exchanging a wink of recognition, so to +speak, with some really congenial and original woman +or man; but at all such functions the severe flow +of amiable nonsense soon cuts any real conversation +short, and if one wants to continue the latter the +only way is to arrange a meeting quite outside and +apart—which after all one might have done in other +and simpler ways. As to the matter of dress, the +adoption of a pleasant yet not strictly conventional +evening garb of one’s own has the useful effect of +automatically closing doors which are not “worth +while” and opening those that <i>are</i>—so in that way +it is much to be recommended!</p> + +<p class='c011'>On the whole, though just the first few years +at Millthorpe were somewhat isolated I believe my +independent life there has really enabled me to +see more of the great world than I should otherwise +have done. Visitors from a distance have often +many and intimate things to tell one, and questions +can be discussed in a more leisurely way than in +a great centre where every one stands watch in hand, +counting the minutes. And on the other hand, by +going myself to London for a fortnight or so three +or four times a year, I found I could get into touch +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>with all sorts of cliques and circles—such as I perhaps +should not have cared to be involved in if I had +been permanently living there! The country became +a splendid basis for literary work, with the opportunity +it afforded (so priceless to me) of writing +in the open air and in close contact with the ordinary +realities of life; it supplied a good basis for my +lecturing and other excursions into the Northern +Towns; and with its market-gardening and sandal +trades kept my hands busy when my head required +a rest.</p> + +<p class='c006'>Of the many years mainly spent here at Millthorpe, +the first fifteen—from 1883 to 1898—were somewhat +handicapped for me by the presence of a small +working-family in the house; first, for ten years, +the Fearnehoughs of whom I have already spoken; +and afterwards, for five years, the Adams’. No +other arrangement was at that time possible. Both +families were charming and interesting in their +different ways; but necessarily they hampered my +freedom a good deal. With children in the house +(in both cases) the domestic arrangements had +largely to be suited to their necessities and convenience, +and my interests had to come very decidedly +second. This did not so much matter at +the beginning of the time, but later with the expansion +of my own sphere of operations a different +household arrangement became imperative.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Fearnehough, as I have said, was of a “powerful +uneducated” type—a good specimen of the British +worker—a bit slow in brain, but exceedingly thorough +and downright in all his dealings. His wife possessed +the infinite patience and kindliness of the household +guardian—going always about her work with untiring +forethought and industry—even when, as often happened, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>she was silently suffering from bad headaches. +There was a certain native grace about her, and +dignity about him, which well became them. The +two children, boy and girl of about nine and ten +when they first arrived, were sensible and natural +too. To have this family living with me—though +it may have been hampering in some ways—was for +some years very helpful. Whether at meals, or +working in the fields, or sitting round the fire of +an evening, to be in close touch with so sane and +simple an outlook on life, and one so entirely +different from that to which I had generally been +accustomed, was in itself an education. The very +downrightness of daily existence among those who +live close upon absolute necessity is a thing hardly +realized even by the most well-meaning of the well-to-do, +unless they positively share that existence. +Of course it cuts away a vast deal of sentimentalism, +æstheticism, and all that. But on the whole it is +rather healthy.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I remember one day—in later years when Annie, +the daughter, had gone away to work in Sheffield—speaking +to her mother about the girl (whose absence +I knew she felt) and saying rather sentimentally, +“I expect you miss Annie a good deal nowadays.” +The answer was characteristic, and in its way quite +lovely: “<cite>Yes, I do miss her—especially on washing +days!</cite>” It was not that Mrs. Fearnehough cared +one whit less for her daughter than many a very +cultured mother might, but simply that her answer +allowed the bed-rock of human nature to be seen. +At any rate it took the wind out of my sentimentality! +Not long ago I was asking a neighboring farmer—whose +son had just got married and migrated on +to a little farm of his own—how the son “liked +his new place.” “Like it?” said the old man with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>a dryish sort of laugh—“well, I guess he’ll like it +if he can any way make a living out of it—and if +he can’t he won’t; he’ll be better able to say in +a year or two.” It is from answers like these that +one perceives how close on the rocks the lives of +the mass peoples are thrust—too close indeed to allow +much scope for expression of their real life or liking.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Fearnehough and I stumbled away at our market-gardening +for a good many years. Being both to +begin with quite ignorant of the trade we made our +full complement of mistakes and purchased our experience +sometimes dearly. Yet by degrees we got +the land into good order. We dug it over, made +drains to carry off the water, planted a hundred or +two of fruit and forest trees, built bits of walls and +fences, kept a horse, and fowls, and grew our crops, +and took our produce into market—a strenuous time, +but greatly interesting in its way. My commercial +instinct was weak, but Albert’s was perhaps even +weaker! With his real love of good work he would +spend as much time preparing an onion-bed as could +only be paid for by ten times the value of the crop; +and at one period he insisted on rooting every bit of +rock and stone out of the subsoil so persistently that I +began to think the garden would be turned into a +quarry! It was characteristic of him when I remonstrated, +to say: “I can’t help it—if I didn’t do my +work thorough when I’m at it, I should only keep +awake at night thinking about it.” I have already +given some of the general results and conclusions +of our labours of that time. When the period of +our experiment came to an end, Fearnehough returned +again to his scythe-making trade in Sheffield, which +he still carries on, hale and hearty, down to this day +[1915].</p> + +<p class='c011'>I cannot pass this period by without dwelling for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>a moment on another friend at that time a member +of the household. I mean my dog Bruno<a id='r17'></a><a href='#f17' class='c012'><sup>[17]</sup></a>—so called +not from his colour, for he was a very handsome +black spaniel, but from some fanciful association +with Giordano Bruno the Italian. That dog—like so +many black animals, black horses, black cats, black +poodles, black-plumaged birds, rooks, jackdaws, starlings, +and so forth—had something <i>demonic</i> about +him. The tenderness and gentleness of his spirit, +combined with a penetrative vision which searched +one’s very soul, was almost superhuman. I came +first to know him when he was merely a puppy at +a friend’s house. We almost fell in love with each +other then and there, and I was not altogether surprised +when a few weeks afterwards he arrived at +my door, sent on as a present from the said friends. +He never doubted for a moment that he had come +to his true home, and he settled down at once, a most +loving member of the household. The Fearnehoughs +took to him right cordially, and Albert himself a year +or so later had the great satisfaction of saving him +from a horrible death.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I had been out somewhere on foot with Bruno +and arriving back within a couple of hundred yards +of my gate I perceived the local pack of foxhounds +(the pests of this as of all countrysides!) scattered +about the road between me and home—the huntsmen +having gone into the public-house for a moment to +have a drink. But that moment was more than +sufficient—for hounds are dangerous things unless +under severe control. Something occurred—I know +not what. A hound gave cry; the others joined in; +and in an instant, to my horror and despair, the whole +pack was yelling in pursuit, and Bruno flying for +his life—in the only direction he <i>could</i> at the moment +<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>fly, away from home! The dog was swift and active, +but what chance had he? I gave him up for lost. +With extraordinary agility however and much +presence of mind he doubled and, clearing ever so +many garden walls and gates, dashed through the +little hamlet back again, finally racing across one +of my fields with the whole pack close behind and +of course gaining on him. Most luckily Albert was +in our yard at the moment, and hearing the hullabaloo +rushed out with a pitchfork in his hand, just +in time to check the ravening horde while Bruno +rushed past him to safety. A moment more and the +dog would have been torn to fragments.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Bruno showed in high degree that curious quality +resembling <i>conscience</i> in man, by which dogs, having +contracted and adopted a new standard of life from +their masters, betray an emotional conflict going on +within them. Sometimes—as is often the case where +fowls are kept—we would have a nest of newly-hatched +chicks being kept warm and dry in a basket +on the hearth. On such occasions Bruno was torn +by conflicting passions. The very sight and smell +of the chicks roused the old primitive hunting instinct, +and he would creep nearer and nearer to the +basket in a very ecstasy of excitement—his limbs +trembling and his nose quivering as he sniffed the +prey. Yet he knew perfectly well that he must not +touch; and his fidelity was so absolute that I firmly +believe he harboured no intention of doing so. But +who can tell? We felt that possibly a sudden frenzy +of the animal nature might overtake him; and we +could not do otherwise than keep on the watch. As +a matter of fact he never did do anything rash; +but the tension on him, poor dog, was so great that +sometimes for two or three days he would hardly +touch his food, and he positively grew quite thin +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>under the strain. It was really a relief for all of +us when the hatching days were over.</p> + +<p class='c011'>There is something strangely touching in the fact +that dogs not only thus develop a conscience and +a morality foreign to their canine nature, but that +also from their intense devotion to their so-called +‘masters’ they are severed and alienated to some +degree from the natural loves of their race—at any +rate on the affectional side. I think Bruno nourished +in his heart a strange susceptibility to beauty. His +amours with other dogs were only of the ordinary +kind; but he cherished for a certain white kitten +a positive adoration. The kitten was certainly beautiful—snow-white +and graceful to a degree—and to +Bruno obviously a goddess; but alas! like other +goddesses only too fickle and even cruel. When +Bruno arrived on the scene, the kitten would skip on +to the vantage-ground of a chair-seat; and from +thence torment the pathetic and pleading nose of +the dog with naughty scratches. Again and again +would Bruno—wounded in his heart as well as in +his head—return to his ineffectual suit, only to have +his advances rejected as before. At last he had to +abandon this quest, but it was curious that a year +or two later he fell in love with <i>another</i> white kitten +in much the same way and with much the same +result.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Everything however comes to him who waits”; +and the most curious and pathetic part of this story +is its ending. For, a good many years afterwards +when Bruno had become quite an old dog and had +lost much of his activity, a <i>cat</i> came and fell in +love with him! This cat used to come from a +neighboring farm and spend much of its time with +the dog, and frequently at night would stay with +him in the little outhouse which he used as a kennel, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>sleeping between the dog’s paws. Ultimately the +cat was there when Bruno died.</p> + +<p class='c006'>Fearnehough’s place, when he returned to Sheffield, +was taken by George Adams, who (also with wife +and two children) came to share the Millthorpe +Cottage with me. Adams was in most ways the +very reverse of Albert Fearnehough. Town bred, +rather slight and thin, with a forward stoop and a +shock of black hair, he was of an impetuous humorous +and rather artistic temperament—not too exact or +precise about details, but one who could cover a +good deal of ground in a day. Born in the poorest +slums of Sheffield he told me more than once how, +after his mother died, he was left alone a mere urchin +in a tiny lodging with his father. His father was a +cobbler by trade rather given to drink, and in the +habit of going out early of a morning to work as +a wage-slave in some shop, and returning late. When +he went out he left a <i>halfpenny</i> on the table for the +boy to find his food with during the day! Not a +very good start in life. The boy roamed about, +half-starved, cadging or ‘snaking’ what he could—but +developed, perhaps in consequence, a singular +resourcefulness. When about thirteen his father died, +and he was left absolutely alone in the world. The +neighbours may have been kind in their way, but he +was alone and without refuge to flee to. Then something +pathetic happened. An orphanage for little +<i>girls</i> had lately been opened in the neighborhood, +and the boy knew one or two of these girls. One +evening, at closing time, the matron discovered among +her little flock this large-eyed, thin-legged almost +rickety ragamuffin sitting! Asked what he was +doing there he replied that he wanted to be taken +in. “But the orphanage is for girls only,” said +<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>the matron, “and you are not a girl.” It was no +use, he would not go; tears ran down his face; he +told his plight; and they were fain to find him a +bed in an attic for the night. Needless to say he +remained a second and a third night. The pale +mobile face made friends; and the end of it was +that a boys’ <i>side</i> was created in the orphanage and +added to that of the girls!</p> + +<p class='c011'>After remaining in the orphanage for a year or +two a place was found for George Adams in the +villa-residence of a Sheffield manufacturer, where he +went first as knife and boot boy and afterwards +as under-gardener. The good people of the villa +discovered his taste for drawing and painting, and +sent him to a School of Art for lessons; and so +when at the age of twenty or so he left ‘service’ +and started for himself as an insurance-collector +(most depressing of occupations) he had a fair knowledge +of gardening and a fair artistic ability at his +command. He married, and joining the Socialist +movement became one of our most lively and adventurous +spirits. The departure of the Fearnehoughs +gave me the opportunity of offering their place at +Millthorpe to him (and his family)—which he +accepted as a joyful exchange from the dismal +trade of eternally dunning the needy denizens of +mean streets for their funeral and coffin monies.</p> + +<p class='c011'>With his arrival at Millthorpe things took on a +more lively air there. His knowledge of gardening +was a decided help, and the financial side of the +venture—if not exactly a success from the purely +commercial point of view—did certainly under the +circumstances (absence of any rent, etc.) yield a +small profit to the good. He took up cordially with +the sandal-making, which I had at first carried on +alone, and which came in useful in winter when the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>outdoor work was slack; and he added bee-keeping +to our activities. My literary work and connections +were increasing, and the place became more social, +and more especially socialistic, than it had been +before—so much so indeed that the country folk (or +some of them at any rate) became a little alarmed!</p> + +<p class='c011'>A year or two after George Adams’ arrival the +Parish Councils Act came into operation, and the +first election was the cause of much excitement in +the villages. Adams and I—though knowing perfectly +well that we had no chance of success—decided—chiefly +for the fun of the thing—to come forward +as candidates; and almost a panic ensued among +the larger farmers and the parson as to what we +might possibly do or propose. Strange stories were +circulated of the Socialist programme, and of the +expenses into which the community would certainly +be plunged if it were adopted. But the finishing +touch to our chances was given by an election address +printed and circulated by one candidate of decidedly +Conservative type, in which he did not hesitate to say +that “it is reported publicly in Holmesfield that one +of our opponents advocates the burning of the Bible, +and also working on the Sabbath Day.” After that +we had no prospect of success! <i>Which</i> of us two +was really pointed at in this accusation we never quite +knew, though we entered into a sort of friendly +rivalry for the honour. But the printed card containing +the address I retain to this day, and it is a +treasured possession.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Adams was certainly not mealy-mouthed, and I +am afraid he made very blasphemous remarks at +times, but his intense sense of fun and his twinkling +delight over ‘good stories’ quite redeemed any such +deficiencies. His courageous humour was all the +more remarkable because, poor thing, he was always +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>suffering from ill-health. Dating from the early life +which I have described, his internal arrangements, +as can easily be imagined, never worked really +properly; and at times he would suffer a lot of +pain, and become seriously emaciated. How he +managed to keep up his gardening and other activities +in spite of frequent illness was always a wonder; +but his vivid imagination carried him on, and if he +were downcast at times, new plans and enterprises +were sure to come in and disperse the pessimistic +mood.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The gardening work, however, at Millthorpe <i>was</i> +too much for his slight frame; and after some five +years’ stay there he elected to retire with his family +into a cottage not far off in the same parish and +devote himself to the sandal-trade and to the occasional +sale of his water-colour drawings. This he +did; and after remaining for four or five years moved +on to the Letchworth Garden City where his labours +and his personality were much appreciated, and where +he occupied a little home of his own until his death +in 1910.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The Adams’ left Millthorpe early in February ’98; +and the next day—trundling with the help of two +boys all his worldly goods in a handcart over the +hills, and through a disheartening blizzard of snow—George +Merrill arrived. This extraordinary being, +in many ways so kindred a spirit to my own, had +now been known to me for some years. I had met +him first on the outskirts of Sheffield immediately +after my return from India, and had recognized at +once a peculiar intimacy and mutual understanding. +Bred in the slums quite below civilization, but of +healthy parentage of comparatively rustic origin, he +had grown so to speak entirely out of his own roots; +and a singularly affectionate, humorous, and swiftly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>intuitive nature had expanded along its own lines—subject +of course to some of the surrounding conditions, +but utterly untouched by the prevailing +conventions and proprieties of the upper world. +Always—even in utmost poverty—clean and sweet in +person and neat in attire, he was attractive to most +people; and children (of whom he was especially +fond) would congregate round him. Yet being by +temperament loving and even passionate—to a degree +indeed which sometimes scandalized the “unco’ guid”—he +was, it may safely be said, never ‘respectable.’ +Fortunately he was either too careless or too unconscious +of public opinion to trouble much about that; +and despite the shafts of occasional criticism he remained +always fairly assured of himself—with the same +sort of unconscious assurance that a plant or an animal +may have in its own nature. What struck me most, +however, on my first meeting with him, was the +pathetic look of wistfulness in his face. Whatever +his experiences up to then may have been, it assured +me that the desire of his <i>heart</i> was still unsatisfied.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To George Merrill the arrival at Millthorpe was +the fulfilment of a dream; and a blizzard ten times +as bad as the actual one would not I believe have +daunted him. The departure of the Adams’ had +left the house largely denuded of furniture, and for +some days we bivouacked with a trestle table for +meals and a sanded floor. By degrees we got things +into order, acquired the necessaries of life and +comfort; and started housekeeping on a new +footing. For seven years the possibility of this +arrangement had I believe wavered before George’s +eyes, and it had certainly been considered by me. +But we had hardly spoken about it. It was too +remote. On my side other arrangements and engagements +precluded the plan; on his, the various situations +he had found—once in a newspaper office, once +in an hotel, and lastly in an ironworks—were not +to be lightly thrown aside. It was only now, when +the Adams’ were leaving and George at the same +time was out of work, that the Fates pointed +favorably and the thing was done.</p> + +<div id='i178' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i178.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>GEORGE MERRILL.<br> <br> (<cite>Photo: Lena Connell.</cite>)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>If the Fates pointed favorably I need hardly +say that my friends (with a few exceptions) pointed +the other way! I knew of course that George had +an instinctive genius for housework, and that in all +probability he would keep house better than most +women would. But most of my friends thought +otherwise. They drew sad pictures of the walls +of my cottage hanging with cobwebs, and of the +master unfed and neglected while his assistant amused +himself elsewhere. They neither knew nor understood +the facts of the case. Moreover they had sad +misgivings about the moral situation. A youth who +had spent much of his early time in the purlieus of +public-houses and in society not too reputable would +do me no credit, and would only by my adoption +be confirmed in his own errant ways. Such was +their verdict. For myself if I entertained any of +these misgivings it was but very faintly. Of the +fellow’s essential goodness I felt no doubt. What +rather troubled me was the question whether <i>he</i> +would be able to endure the dulness and quiet of +a country life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>With a remarkably good ear for music, and a +sympathetic baritone voice, he had a ready talent +which would have taken him far on the music-hall +stage. In fact I hardly know how it was that he +did not find a vocation on that stage. Anyhow he +was known in not a few circles for his musical +quips and his comic or sentimental songs; and was +pretty familiar with the doings and <i>personnel</i> of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>the theatres. To take such an one away into the +depths of rustic life might have been a great mistake. +Probably if this had been the prevailing side +of his character it <i>would</i> have been a mistake. As +it was the move proved a complete success. In +a few months or a year my friend was quite +acclimatized, and while enjoying (like myself) a day +or two in town was always genuinely glad to +get back again to our little home in Cordwell +Valley.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I have said, the families I had with me before +were both kindly and good sorts, and in their different +ways helpful and useful. But a time had come +with the growing expansion of my work when it +became quite impossible to continue running things +on the old footing, and quite necessary for me to +have the house really at my own command. The +arrival of George Merrill rendered this possible. And +immediately a new order of things began. Merrill +from the first developed quite a talent for housework. +He soon picked up the necessary elements of +cookery, vegetarian or otherwise; he carried on the +arts of washing, baking and so forth with address +and dispatch; he took pride in making the place +look neat and clean, and insisted on decorating every +room that was in use with flowers. I, for my part, +finally gave up the market garden business and contracted +the garden ground into merely sufficient to +supply the needs of the house. This I cultivated +partly myself and partly with the occasional help +of an outsider; and in addition I made it a rule +to dust my own study and light the fire in it every +morning. These little garden and household works—if +not amounting to much—I have still always +found very helpful and rather pleasant—as giving the +bodily side of life some decent expression, and at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>the same time rendering the mental perspective more +just.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Thus we settled down, two bachelors: keeping +the mornings intact for pretty close and rigorous +work; and the afternoons and evenings for more +social recreation. As a rule I find the housekeeper +who is a little particular and ‘house-proud’ is inclined, +not unnaturally, to be somewhat set against +visitors—especially those who may bring some amount +of dirt and dishevelment with them. But George—though +occasionally disposed that way—was so +genuinely sociable and affectionate by nature that +the latter tendency overcame the former. The only +people he could not put up with were those whom +he suspected (sometimes unjustly) of being pious +or puritanical. For these he had as keen a <i>flair</i> +as the orthodox witch-finder used to have for +heretics; and I am afraid he was sometimes rude +to them. On one occasion he was standing at the +door of our cottage, looking down the garden brilliant +in the sun, when a missionary sort of man arrived +with a tract and wanted to put it in his hand. +“Keep your tract,” said George. “I don’t want +it.” “But don’t you wish to know the way to +heaven?” said the man. “No, I don’t,” was the +reply, “can’t you see that <i>we’re in heaven here</i>—we +don’t <i>want</i> any better than this, so go away!” +And the man turned and fled. Like the archdeacon +in Eden Phillpotts’ <cite>Human Boy</cite> “he flew and was +never heard of again.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>No doubt his objection to the pious and puritanical +was returned with interest by their objection to him. +Whatever faults or indiscretions he may have been +guilty of, they were occasionally (in true provincial +style) fastened on and magnified and circulated +about as grave scandals. It was on such occasions +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>however that the real affection of the country people +for us showed itself, and they breathed slaughter +against our assailants. George in fact was accepted +and one may say beloved by both my manual worker +friends and my more aristocratic friends. It was +only the middling people who stumbled over him; +and they did not so much matter! Anyhow our +lives had become necessary to each other, so that +what any one said was of little importance.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It thus became possible to realize in some degree +a dream which I had had in mind for some time—that +of making Millthorpe a <i>rendezvous</i> for all +classes and conditions of society. I had by this +time made acquaintances and friends among all the +tribes and trades of manual workers, as well as +among learned and warlike professions. Architects, +railway clerks, engine-drivers, signalmen, naval and +military officers, Cambridge and Oxford dons, +students, advanced women, suffragettes, professors +and provision-merchants, came into touch in my +little house and garden; parsons and positivists, +printers and authors, scythesmiths and surgeons, bank +managers and quarrymen, met with each other. +Young colliers from the neighboring mines put on +the boxing-gloves with sprigs of aristocracy; learned +professors sat down to table with farm-lads. Not, +thank heaven! that this happened all in the lump; +but little by little and year by year my friends of +various degrees and shades got to know each other—and +this was a real satisfaction to me. Many +lady friends also came to stay with us—some of +them unmarried (which may, who knows? have been +a cause for scandal); and not a few married couples +who liked our way of life and enjoyed talking +over questions of household arrangement and +simplification.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>Of course, after reading Thoreau’s <cite>Walden</cite>, whatever +simplifications I may have effected in my own +household management seemed very negligible and +unimportant. Still I felt that some move in that +direction, and some propaganda on the subject, was +really needed. I tried hard to get some lady friend +or other—who would probably understand household +affairs much better than I—to write about the subject; +but tried in vain. None would take it up. +And so ultimately I was reduced to writing on the +question myself—in <cite>England’s Ideal</cite> and elsewhere.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To-day I feel the importance of the subject as +much as—perhaps more than—I did then. I certainly +often wish that our household life, plain as it is, +was even more plain. But I find that Time—mere +Time—has a sinister effect in complicating life. +Things arrive, and cannot so easily be got rid of +again. Presents are made by well-meaning people, +and cannot very well be returned to the donors; +new habitudes of life are grafted on the old ones +without actually displacing the latter; the wheel +of life turns one way, like a ratchet, but will not +turn back again; and so the complications grow +and the embarrassments multiply—often to such a +degree that they become almost unendurable; and +one realizes at last why Death came into the world, +and how necessary as a Deliverer of souls and a +loosener of mortal knots he is. For myself I can +truly say that the Waste Paper Basket stands as a +signal of one of my greatest pleasures; and that +when I feel depressed (which is not very often) +I go about the house and hunt up things to destroy +or give away—after which ritual act I feel ever so +much better and happier.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Simplicity and plainness of life are necessary, on +account of the frightful waste of time and strength +<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>which the opposite policy entails—a waste which is +obviously becoming daily worse and worse. Nor +is it necessary to point out that if you employ +<i>servants</i> to keep all these beggarly elements of life +in order for you, instead of looking after them yourself, +you still only waste your time and strength +in securing (or appropriating in some way) the +money with which you pay those servants, as well +as in the extra labour and anxiety of looking after +the said servants—a state of affairs probably worse +than the first.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Plainness again is necessary from foundation considerations +of humanity and democracy. To live in +opulent and luxurious surroundings is to erect a fence +between yourself and the mass-world which no selfrespecting +manual worker will pass. It is consequently +to stultify yourself and to lose some of the +best that the world can give.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Thirdly, from mere considerations of health the +thing is necessary. My Japanese friend, Sanshiro +Ishikawa, calls our houses <i>prisons</i>. Plain food, the +open air, the hardiness of sun and wind, are things +practically unobtainable in a complex ménage.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And lastly, and most important, the complexity +of material possessions and demands all around one +almost inevitably has the effect of stifling the life +of the heart and of the spirit. “The thorns sprang +up and choked them.” The endless distraction of +material cares, the endless temptation of material +pleasures, inevitably has the effect of paralysing the +great free life of the affections and of the soul. +One loses the most precious thing the world can +give—the great freedom and romance of finding +expression and utterance for one’s most intimate self +in the glorious presence of Nature and one’s fellows.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span> + <h2 class='c005'>X<br> MILLTHORPIANA</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>What I have just said might seem to suggest a +sort of perpetual garden-party going on at Millthorpe. +But this of course was by no means the +case, and for weeks at a time we would often be +quiet enough. A distance of four miles from the +nearest railway-station is a good defence; especially +in winter with snow on the ground; also the +general rule of not seeing visitors till the afternoon. +Still we were liable to incursions. To Job are +ascribed the pregnant words (xxxi. 35) “O that +mine adversary had written a book!” And I am +afraid that I had in some such way laid myself +open to attack. The ubiquitous American who (to +adopt the style of Bernard Shaw) only stayed in +England to visit Millthorpe and Stratford-on-Avon, +was much in evidence. And faddists of all sorts +and kinds considered me their special prey. I don’t +know what I had done to deserve this—but so it was. +Vegetarians, dress reformers, temperance orators, +spiritualists, secularists, anti-vivisectionists, socialists, +anarchists—and others of very serious mien and character—would +call and insist in the most determined +way on my joining their crusades—so that sometimes +I had almost to barricade myself against them. +A friend suggested (and the idea was not a bad one) +that I should put up at the gate a board bearing the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>legend “To the Asylum” on it. Then the real +lunatics would probably avoid the neighborhood.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nevertheless on the whole we got a good deal of +fun out of these incursions, and occasionally some +real and solid advance.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On one occasion—it was when the Fearnehoughs +were living with me—we were sitting quietly at our +humble dinner of carrots or what-not, in the middle +of the day, when I saw two young ladies pass the +window. There came a knock at the door, and I +opened it. There stood a very good-looking +elegantly dressed girl of twenty-three or twenty-four, +with terracotta frock and gainsborough hat, rather +Londony in style; with a less showy companion +beside her. Said number one: “Does Mr. +Carp——” and then breaking off, “Oh! I see +you are Mr. Carpenter. You know, I heard you +once speak at the Fabian Society. I belong to +the Fabian Society. And my cousin and I were +near here, and thought perhaps we might call.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Very glad to see you, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“And is this <i>really</i> where you carry on your +Simplification of Life? Oh! Madge! isn’t it interesting” +(this last thrown in as an interjection).</p> + +<p class='c011'>“I don’t know about that; but won’t you come +in and sit down?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Thank you so much, I should be glad of a rest.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Will you have a bit of cake and a glass of +milk?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Oh no! but I <i>should</i> like a piece of dry bread.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Well, you need not ‘simplify’ so much as that.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Oh! but I am so <i>fond</i> of dry bread!”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then it came out that the Uncle and Aunt were +waiting outside, so they had to be got in, and ultimately +the party were all safely landed in my study—where +after the simplification trouble had been +got over, we made a reasonable acquaintance with +each other.</p> + +<div id='i187' class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i187.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>MILLTHORPE COTTAGE AND ORCHARD.<br> <br> (Holmesfield on the hill above.)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>But I never afterwards quite forgot that expression +“Is this where you <i>carry on</i> your?” etc.—as if +one hung a flag out of the window.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On another occasion, it being summer-time, a party +of forty Spiritualists came over from Manchester to +spend Sunday at a neighboring farmhouse, and with +the intention of digging me out in the course of the +afternoon. Providence however interposed and sent +<i>pelting</i> rain all day, and the poor things having to +walk several miles from the station arrived at their +farmhouse simply drenched; and when they had +had their dinner, and partially dried their clothes, +were naturally in no mood or condition to turn out +again—with the exception of ten or twelve of the +more heroic, who came on and called on me. What +I had done to merit this honour I do not know, as +I had had very little experience of Spiritualism; but +they sat round and told me all sorts of wonderful +stories. In the middle of it all, a plashing was heard +outside in the rain, a knock at the door, and a young +lady <i>sandal</i>-enthusiast arrived. She was a neatlooking +well-made girl, in sandals, with bare, unstockinged +feet, and she wore a simple navy blue +serge dress; but of course she was wringing wet. +We had not seen her before; her name was Swanhilda +Something (somehow it sounded appropriate); +she had set out to walk all the way from Sheffield +(nine miles). On the way the rain had come on, +and the sandals had nearly come off. She had no +umbrella or waterproof; and she was decidedly more +than damp. Mrs. Adams, who was then in charge +of our ménage, took her upstairs and gave her a +change, and she presently joined the Spiritualist +party, looking it must be confessed somewhat like +<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>a ghost; but full of spirit and pluck. Her pluck +(as I found afterwards) as a dress-reformer was +really splendid. On this occasion, after tea, she +refused all offers of a bed for the night, donned her +still damp clothes and her sandals, and joining the +forty Spiritualists, they all splashed back across the +hills to the station.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One of the pathetic things of the Socialist movement +is the way in which it has caused not a few +people of upper class birth and training to try and +leave their own ranks and join those of the workers, +when—by their very birth and training being unable +to bridge the gulf—the result has been that they, +belonging neither to one class nor the other, outcasts +from one, and more or less pitied or ridiculed by +the other, have fallen into a kind of limbo between. +I have known several cases of young men of this +kind. One of them I may describe under the name +of ‘Bryan.’ His father, being a country squire, +wanted Bryan to go into the army. The boy had +ideas of his own about the matter, and simply refused. +Differences ensued, and ultimately the father offered +him £100 a year for three years, and told him to +find his <i>own</i> way into life. The youth drifted to +London, fell in with the Socialists at a street corner, +became inspired with their ‘cause,’ and sought to +identify himself thenceforth with the working class. +He came and spent a year or more in our neighborhood +at Millthorpe. He was a good fellow—his +heart, as they say, in the right place; but whether +owing to the wretched character of his training, or +to native want of skill or perseverance, he never could +or would shape himself to do any solid work. He +would dabble a little at the joiner’s bench, or in the +garden, or with the woodmen in the woods—but only +a little. When we urged him to learn some one trade +<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>thoroughly—if only cobbling or cabinet-making—he +would always say “Ah! but things will be different +when the Revolution comes—we shall all go +barefoot, or these things will be done by machinery”; +and so one got no nearer any practical result. On +one occasion being in the neighborhood of his family +home, I went and called on his father, thinking I +might be of some use, but found him in a state of +despair.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Oh, Bryan,” he said, “I don’t know what has +taken the boy. Why the other day he came to see +us in our London house, and the first thing he said +was ‘Father, all these houses ought to be burnt +down.’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘Burnt down,’ I replied; ‘are you mad?’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘Well, they <i>ought</i> to be,’ he said, ‘and the people +made to do some honest work instead of idling their +lives away on other folk’s labour.’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘And pray what sort of work would you set +them to, young man?’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘Oh, anything,’ he said, ‘any straightforward +work like mending the roads or breaking stones.’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘Then I suppose you Socialists would take an +old man like me, seventy years of age, and turn me +out of house and home, and set me to break stones +on the roads—nice “saviours of society” you +are!’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“‘Well,’ he replied, ‘of course there would be +exceptions—I daresay we should allow you a pension, +say £100 a year, on account of your age and +infirmity!’</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Think of that, Mr. Carpenter, think of your own +son offering you £100 a year, and in the name of +these rascally Socialists!”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Needless to say I deeply sympathized—(I don’t +think in fact he suspected me of being a Socialist)—but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>I saw that nothing useful could be done, and at +an early opportunity I retired.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Bryan drifted out to Topolobampo, a socialist +colony on the Gulf of California; and when that +broke up he floated about the borders of Mexico and +California, living on chance luck and occasional remittances +until family changes brought him finally +home.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another case of a somewhat similar kind was that +of a young R.E. captain, Captain Peterson, let us +call him, who had read Tolstoy and convinced himself +that a military life was wrong, and that he must leave +the Army. Being at the time Adjutant of Volunteers +in a neighboring town, he used to come up to +Millthorpe to discuss these questions and as to how +he should ordain his life when once free. I admired +his enthusiasm, but felt obliged to warn him not +to be in too great a hurry; for it was easy to see +that in practical matters he was a mere babe. Certainly +the Army was not the place for him. Anything +but ‘correct’ in dress, with generally a large gap +between his waistcoat and his trousers, and again +another between his trousers and his boots, with projecting +schoolboy ears and red nose, he was just the +man who would be unmercifully chaffed or even +‘ragged’ by his fellow-officers. But on the other +hand his capacity for battling his way in the world, +or for earning his own living, was evidently of the +smallest; and his schemes for the future were of the +most wild-cat kind. He was going to build a house—but +as he would have no money to pay for it, +he should get together a little group of workmen +(who desired to improve their minds) on the condition +that he should teach them elementary mathematics, +surveying, etc., during one half of the day, +while they should set bricks and mortar for him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>during the other half! (A charming scheme! but +I think I see the British workman agreeing to it!) +His house, according to the plan which he drew out of +his pocket, was more like a greenhouse than anything +else—with walls and roof largely glass; and when I +suggested that it might prove rather hot in +summer (!) he seemed to have no difficulty in +imagining plentiful vines trailing overhead, with +foliage and hanging bunches of grapes, to ward +off the sun’s rays. For the floor of his room he had +a device of which he was quite proud. “It is often +convenient,” he said, “to have <i>two</i> carpets—a rough +one for ordinary use, and a better one for special +occasions.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>I assented to this rather dubious premise, for the +sake of seeing what would follow!</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Well” he continued “my idea is to sew these +two carpets together like a roller towel, and have +them passing over rollers at the two opposite ends +of the room, so that one carpet should be <i>on</i> the +floor, and the other <i>underneath</i>. Then, you know, +when you saw visitors coming, all you would have +to do would be to turn the crank (suiting the action +to the word), and you would have your best carpet +on in a jiffey!”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Too amazed and speechless to make any objection, +I could only see with my mind’s eye, a cottage +piano and a table and an armchair or two gaily sailing +across the room, as the crank was being turned.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Meanwhile” he went on “as carpets are always +wanting brushing I intend to have brushes <i>fixed</i> +underneath the floor, so that every time the carpet +is changed it will be automatically brushed. Nothing +could be simpler.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>It would have been cruel to make further objections +to schemes so indeed transparently simple. But +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>they will give the reader an idea of the difficulties and +dangers attending the metamorphosis from the condition +of an army officer to that of a private in the +peaceful regiments of humanity. What has become +now of our friend Peterson I cannot certainly say. +That he nobly and consistently abandoned his life +in the army I know; but whether he succeeded in +getting a house built on the Principles of Euclid is +doubtful.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Peterson was also connected with an occurrence +which at the time was rather mysterious, and caused +us some puzzlement. My friend George Merrill had +come to live with me, and we two were occupying +the house alone. One evening, late in the summer, +we had just returned from Sheffield, and tired had +thrown ourselves for a moment into chairs, when +almost at once a knock came at the door—so soon +indeed that we wondered how the visitor could have +been so close behind. George went to the door and +then turning to me said “A lady wants to see you.” +At once a voice from outside said very distinctly, +“A <i>woman</i>, if you please.” Roused to a sense of +serious events impending, I went forward, and saw, +as well as the falling dusk would allow, what +appeared to be a fairly pleasant-looking woman of +about thirty-five, but somewhat dishevelled and +untidy in dress; and said—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Can I do anything for you?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“You can,” she replied, “I’m lost, I’m an outcast +from the world, will you befriend me?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“I will if I can,” I said, “but tell me first about +yourself—what is your name? do you come from +Sheffield?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“You,” she exclaimed, “Mr. Carpenter, the author +of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>—and you won’t help me, till +you know my name and all about me!”</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>I looked at George with a wild surmise. “Certainly,” +I said, “I can’t very well help you till I +know what is the matter.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“I tell you,” she rejoined with increasing emphasis, +“I’m lost, I’m an outcast, I can never go back to the +world again. Ah!” (pointing to the garden and the +rising moon) “if I could only live here in this beautiful +scene, with you, far away from the town and +all its belongings. Mr. Carpenter, will you befriend +me?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>What an appeal to a lone bachelor! Luckily I +resisted the temptation to a too ready sympathy, and +leaning forward said again, “But still you have not +told me anything about yourself and your troubles.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I did so I caught a distinct and strong waft of +liquor.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Is it not enough that I am lost?” she replied.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The situation was really embarrassing. At last I +said:—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Well, you know, I and my friend have only just +come back from Sheffield, and are very tired; will +you come again to-morrow, or any day you like to +name, when we shall have more time, and tell me +your whole story.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>At this she threw up her head with a kind of snort, +and said: “And you are Mr. Carpenter! and you +say come to-morrow—and to-morrow perhaps I shall +be <i>dead</i>!” And thus saying she strode off to the +gate with the air of a tragedy queen.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nevertheless for some days we could not help feeling +a little uncomfortable. The people at the neighboring +inn told us that she had come from the +Sheffield direction during the afternoon, and had +been hanging about waiting for our return for some +hours, doubtless had been in the garden on our +arrival—which accounted for her sudden appearance—but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>no one knew who she was; nor did tidings of +her, or of any mischance to her, reach us for some +weeks—till at last the memory of the incident died +out.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then one afternoon, the said Captain Peterson +having turned up and being engaged in expounding +his theories over a cup of tea—my attention (which +had quite wandered from his conversation) was suddenly +caught by the words “and there’s that woman, +she gets drunk, and then comes to my house, and +won’t go away—it’s very awkward!—and she has +read your <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> too.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“That’s the woman,” I exclaimed, “tell me about +her!” and a few explanations soon disclosed the +fact that my mysterious visitor was the wife of +Peterson’s colour-sergeant—a decent sort of body +apparently, and all right except for occasional +drinking-bouts, when she became liable to these +vespertinal excursions!</p> + +<p class='c006'>During the first year or so after Merrill’s arrival, +and for a year or two before that, we had a young +Russian, or Russian Jew, staying in the house. Invalided +with consumption he had somehow taken +refuge with us. He went by the name of Max Flint. +He was of that fine and delicate type of Jew (somewhat +perhaps like Mordecai in George Eliot’s <cite>Daniel +Deronda</cite>) which one associates with Polish origin—a +sensitive face with slender nose (not the Jewish +proboscis), arched fine eyebrows and brown pensive +eyes, well-formed features on the whole, and hands +the same—something refined and almost womanly +about him. He was handy in a house, and skilful +with a needle; for indeed he was a tailor by trade. +His history is worth relating if only because +typical of hundreds and thousands of similar cases.</p> +<div id='i197' class='figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i197.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>G. M. FEEDING THE FOWLS.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>His father, who was a Jewish butcher by trade, +“very religious” according to Max “and always +lending money and always losing it,” lived at +Slobodka across the river from Kovno, and not far +from the German frontier. Slobodka was the Jewish +quarter and consisted of small wooden houses, two +stories at most, but even so not unfrequently each +occupied by more than one family. Noah Flynck +however and his wife and the eight children were +proud to have a house all to themselves. The mother +died early but Max remembered her telling stories in +which she recalled the subjugation of Poland. How +Polish ‘gentlemen,’ landowners, took refuge in +Slobodka, were hunted down by the Russian soldiers +and <i>hanged</i>, and their lands appropriated—especially +one well-known old story of a Polish noble who concealed +himself in the interior of a haystack. The +troops surrounded and searched his house and farmyard, +but could not find him, till at last his little +dog (who had smelt him out) was seen scratching +and routing on the top of the stack, and he was +betrayed!</p> + +<p class='c011'>When Max was about sixteen or seventeen the +terror of the Russian conscription came upon him. +Few people realize what this nightmare is to the +Russian peasantry. Even in the late Japanese war, +villages were surrounded at midnight by Cossacks +and police, houses if not opened immediately were +broken into, men roused from sleep, and all between +the ages of twenty-one and forty-three taken away, +in most cases never to be heard of again! In Max’s +time it was as bad, if not worse. The same thing +went on. At any moment, at dead of night, the +home might be broken into and plundered—the young +men snatched away for ever. Bribes might defer +your fate for a time—but only for a time. As to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>passports, you could not move without a passport—even +to go from one village to another.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Max determined—even against old Noah’s wish—to +get away to England; and he managed to +effect the escape. There are of course professional +smugglers who undertake this business for you; and +Max often told the story of how he paid three roubles +to one of these for the job. He was instructed to be +at a certain village close to the river Memel on a +certain evening. He gave his family the slip, and +arrived there to time; met the agent all right, +and with twenty others bound on the same errand +was packed in a stable for the night. Half of the +company went off in the small hours of the morning, +but Max and the remaining half had to remain there +all the next day and night till 2 a.m., when the man +came and gave them the signal to follow. They +crept through the deserted street and along the road +till they came to the bridge which alone divided +them from Germany. But how to cross this in face +of the Russian sentinel keeping watch at the near +end? Needless to say it was a question of bribes. +Of the three roubles the soldier was to have one. +And Max with a kind of glee used to describe how +he saw the man sitting there in his box as they crept +by, and pretending to be asleep, yet visibly peeping +with one eye through his fingers to see that <i>only the +bargained number got through</i>. Once on the German +side they were all right, and could breathe again +freely. They met at an inn, counted up their +remaining monies, and went on in parties together.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Max came to Leeds. Of the hundreds of Russian +Jews there he knew a little about some. He +changed his name from Flynck to Flint, to suit the +English ear, and soon settled down into sweated +work in a Jewish tailors’ den.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>One must hope and suppose that the move was +for the better; but what a long crucifixion is the +life of the people! You escape from the horrors +of the Russian army—from being preyed upon by +human and insect vermin, as well as becoming food +for powder—only to sit cross-legged for the rest +of your life in a dirty, evil-smelling workshop, with +gas flaring, stoves superheated (for making the irons +hot), and windows all tightly shut—and that, in the +heart of a sad-eyed smoke-ridden manufacturing town +in the North of England. The wages I believe, in +Max’s case, were not so bad as in some such dens, +but the ‘drive’ and the pressure were incessant, +the machine-work was exhausting, and the hours +amounted to ten and a half per day. Little wonder +that in a few years he developed the seeds of phthisis, +and was practically marked down as its victim.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Turning into a rebel and a hater of the present +order (or disorder) of things, he joined the Socialist +club in Leeds and became a worker in the cause. +That led to his abandoning his own religion, +lodging with Christians, and doing such outrageous +things as poking the fire or preparing his own meals +on the Sabbath Day—which in turn led to the Jewish +community slandering and persecuting <i>him</i>! They +threw mud and stones at him in the streets; and +he became an outcast among his own people. The +Jewish girl he was courting refused to consort with +him any more and went off with another man, driving +him so mad that (as Max told me himself) he on +one occasion nearly killed her.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was somewhere about this time that, in connection +with the said Socialist club, I happened to +meet him. It was at the deathbed of another +Socialist; and perceiving his distress and evident +need of a change I asked him for a short holiday +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>to Millthorpe. After that he came again, and again. +There was something so gentle and helpful about +him that he was always gratefully received by my +friends; and the stories of his life and times were +always interesting. Once or twice I wrote—in my +best German—to his father<a id='r18'></a><a href='#f18' class='c012'><sup>[18]</sup></a>; and the innocent joy +of the old man (in his replies) was touching. But +naturally Max did not get stronger—and a time came +when after being here a week or two he obviously +could not go to work again and had to stay on +rather indefinitely. The Adams’ and he became great +friends, and he even helped a little in the sandalwork. +Then later, when this was too laborious for +him, he took up basket-making, and turned out quite +a number of useful baskets; and as many of these +were “waste-paper baskets,” one must feel that in +this alone—in the providing receptacles for the printed +rubbish of the day—he performed a useful service! +Gradually however he got weaker, and had to give +up all work. Then it became necessary for him to +go to a convalescent Home at Bournemouth; and +there after some months he died.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is often the case that invalids and old people +feel themselves a burden on the household in which +they live, think they are no good in the world, and +wish themselves out of the way; and yet all the +time the opposite may be the fact. Often they form +a point of real interest in the house, they call out +people’s sympathy and helpfulness, and their own +pluck and sociability under failing health gives +courage to others who are stronger. Something of +this was true of Max. Though depressed at times +his quaint and delicate humour was a joy to his +friends and acquaintances. One event, which might +<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>have proved prematurely fatal to him, he would +frequently recount with pleasure. It was one +Christmas; a time when the Village Band is in +the habit of coming round to each house in turn +and playing its rather fearsome tunes! As it happened +Max’s bedroom, being at one end of the house, +was over a more or less open shed. It was evening +and he was composing himself to sleep; when the +band arrived. But, snow being on the ground, their +footsteps were not heard; and the bandmen very +naturally disposed themselves, for more shelter, inside +the shed, quite unconscious of course that they were +exactly underneath the bed on which an invalid was +sleeping. All of a sudden they struck up with a +tremendous blare “Christians, Awake!” or some +such tune. It was like St. Jerome hearing the last +Trump. Poor Max was nearly lifted out of bed +by the shock. For a moment he did not know +whether he was in this world or the next. When +he concluded in favour of this one he found himself +lying there in the old bedroom, but his heart palpitating +so violently that, combined with the fit of +laughter which also seized him, he was quite a wreck +for some days after.</p> + +<p class='c011'>There was something ironical in the idea of a +Christian hymn proving so nearly fatal to a Jew; +but a similar irony, curiously enough, pursued him +to his end at Bournemouth. At the Home there—in +order to avoid unpleasant questionings, and also +because to him the matter was of no importance—he +had said nothing about his Jewish connection +but had declared himself a Christian, and had +received in a friendly way the visits of the chaplain. +When he died the Home made the usual arrangements +for his interment in the Protestant Cemetery. +But—and the story shows how the Jewish community +<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>hangs together—the Jews at Leeds and Manchester +got to know somehow about it all, and telegraphed +to the synagogue at Southampton to stop the infamy +of Christian burial. A deputation came over from +Southampton and arrived at the Bournemouth home +only an hour or two before the funeral—to claim +the body for removal to Southampton and burial +with Jewish rites. I of course was on the spot; +and a nice position I was in! The matron of the +Home and the Chaplain on the one hand had +“always understood” that he was a Christian; the +Chief Rabbi and his friends insisted absolutely that +he was a Jew; the funeral car was already waiting +in the yard; and Max himself lay there in the +mortuary chapel with his features in death finer and +paler than ever, and wearing such an expression +of high calm and indifference as might well represent +his own actual feeling in the matter. I, of +course, to all the parties concerned was obviously +the “guilty” person—guilty of having got them into +such a coil—and they looked at me with eyes of +blame. But—though really just as indifferent as Max +himself—I thought it best to ‘play the game’; and +insisted that as he had openly declared himself a +Christian he <i>was</i> a Christian and should be buried +as such. The Jewish party on its side brought +arguments to show that a mere declaration on such +a matter counted for nothing; and soon we plunged +into a long discussion which I kept up for some +time in order (partly) to hear what they would say. +When I perceived however how tremendously +seriously the Jews took the whole matter, and reflected +also that Max’s father would be broken-hearted +if he heard that his son had been put in a +Christian grave, I thought it best to give way. The +Chaplain and the matron agreed, and were indeed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>quite sensible about it all—and finally poor Max’s +mortal remains were carried off in triumph by his +own people.</p> + +<p class='c006'>In conclusion of this chapter I may relate a curious +story which perhaps helps to show how the elements +of real inspiration and of mental aberration may +sometimes get mixed up in the same person.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I had received a letter from London from a man +who described himself as a gold-miner from the +Sierra Nevada, saying that he had just arrived in +England, and was wishful to see me, as he had a +message to deliver, and proposing to come on immediately +to Millthorpe. As it happened I was just +starting for Glasgow and Edinburgh on a lecturing +tour. So I wrote at once telling him to wait a +week for my return, and to employ his time meanwhile +in sight-seeing. But on my return I found +to my surprise that he had already been in the +village some days, that he had taken a lodging, +and was awaiting my arrival. The next day, +November 21, 1910, he walked into my yard—obviously +an American of a manual worker type, +thin, sandy-haired and tall, with dark clothes and +black slouch hat, somewhat horny-handed, but +with a certain refinement of figure and physiognomy. +Also there was a slightly “fallen in” +and tired look about him which puzzled me +at the moment, but was soon explained. He +began almost immediately—as soon as we were sat +down—telling me a long story—of which I can only +give the outlines.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It seemed that he had been working for a good +many years in a gold-mine (probably as part-owner +of it)—a mine up 10,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada. +One day—six years before the events which he was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>about to narrate—a strange vision came to him. He +had lost his way on the Nevada sandhills, and was +searching about in some anxiety, when a sudden +transformation of the landscape occurred, and he +was transported into a new world, which he could +only describe as ‘heaven.’ On several succeeding +occasions the same vision came to him. Meanwhile, +he said, he had been fighting hard against the three +great temptations of a miner’s life—drink, tobacco, +and an irascible temper. Each of these troubles in +turn disappeared finally with a sudden deliverance +and certain assurance of success. Then, only a +couple of months before coming to England, more +frequent visions came to him, accompanied by voices; +and the affair culminated in his getting hold of +Dr. Bucke’s book on <cite>Cosmic Consciousness</cite> when +he read the chapters about Buddha and Jesus. Then +followed what he described as “seven days of +ecstasy, agonizing ecstasy—tears of peace and joy +streaming down my face—in which I saw <i>everything, +everything</i>.” After that he read one day in the +same book the chapter on E. C.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then one morning—as he was going up the +mountain to his work from the camp below (Victor, +Colorado), he heard the voices again shouting: +“They came surging up close to my ears, and then +faded away into the far distance, and then came +close again—and two of the voices were God’s, and +one was my own [!], and they were shouting <cite>Edward +Carpenter, Edward Carpenter, go and see E. C., +go and see</cite>, etc., etc. And I at the same time +was shouting <cite>Brother E. C.—God’s beloved Son, I +am coming to you</cite>.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>[George and I looked at each other again with a +wild surmise! Another case for the Asylum!]</p> + +<p class='c011'>“And all this,” he continued, “kept being repeated +<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>as I walked up the hill, over and over again, +till at last it faded away in the distance. And all +the morning over my work I was in tears—tears of +joy and pain—and had to conceal my face from +my mates. But as I turned the crusher I felt +enormous strength, and was quite unconscious of +effort.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then followed all sorts of stories about God telling +him to do this and that, and the Devil telling him +to do this and that, and of temptations and <i>tests</i> +to which he had been subjected. But in the end, +he said, he had been impelled to come and see me, +and he had come. One day he just threw down +his tools and left them lying there, went and said +good-bye to his mother (and she evidently did not +want him to go) and set sail for England. And +now we two (he and I) were to lead a mission +round the world—he had some idea about a new +Messiah—and to preach and convert the nations +together.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Things were evidently getting serious! Yet I +hardly knew what to do. He was such a very +decent fellow, quiet and kindly and essentially +reasonable, and by no means a fanatic; and most +obviously genuine and spontaneous. I hardly knew +how to attack him.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then George Merrill saved the situation. He +asked Grogan (C. E. Grogan was his name) to have +some tea; and the answer gave the needed clue.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Tea? No, thank you, I haven’t taken tea or +any food for three weeks.” [Afterwards on inquiry +at his village-lodgings I found his landlady had been +dreadfully disturbed at his not touching a crumb +of anything all the time he was there.]</p> + +<p class='c011'>“But if you won’t eat, you’ll have a cup of tea, +or something to drink?”</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>“No, nothing—except a glass of water—I haven’t +eaten anything for three weeks, and I don’t think +I shall ever eat again.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>The cat was out; and the line of action was +clear.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Look here!” I said, “I quite understand you, +and sympathize with your experiences—and I think +indeed you have had some very real experiences, +and some realizations of another kind of consciousness; +but you must be careful, and have some idea +of what you are doing. There is no doubt that +sometimes abstinence from food will help to develop +internal faculties. On the other hand to go too far +and to weaken the body, perhaps permanently, may +be most foolish, and dangerous. The body is there +to give expression to the soul, and if you have any +important spiritual revelation to express you want +all the faculties of your body in good order for the +purpose. Starvation, it is well known, engenders +visions and voices, often of a very delusive character. +You must not give yourself away to all that. How +do you know that what you say is of God is not +of the Devil; and <i>vice versâ</i>? And how do <i>I</i> +know?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>So I went on at him; making him plainly understand +that I was not going to join in his crusade—whatever +it was. “Besides,” I said, “I still do +not see what made you come here. You say you +have not read any of my writing—except what was +contained in Dr. Bucke’s book. <cite>What do you know +about me?</cite>”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Then he leaped out again. “Oh, I know all +about you. <cite>I know that you will never die!</cite>”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“That is not a very cheerful prospect,” said I, +gently laughing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Oh, well,” he replied, “you will at any rate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>live four hundred years. It is like this: The earth +and all that are in it, are from this day passing +gradually into a new and higher plane of existence. +That process will complete itself in four hundred +years, and at the end of that time the earth will be +absorbed into the Sun and the ethereal life. A +wonderful period of new life will arrive; and all +those who are living then will be transformed without +passing through Death.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>He spoke earnestly and with conviction. I did +not oppose him; but warned him again about going +too far with his abstinence, and advised deliberation +in his conclusions. He did not seem inclined to +give way about food—said he thought he should +never require it again, and maintained that the +internal breathing (<i>prana</i>) came to him with a +wonderful sense of fragrance and refreshment.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He was extraordinarily good; for though I had +refused, almost rudely, to join in his schemes, he +took no offence—simply said that he was satisfied +now, that he had given the message he had been +told to give, and would return to America “to-morrow.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Having then made my negative attitude quite clear, +so that there should be no misunderstanding, I now +adopted a positive line; and talked to him for some +little time about experiences of the kind he had +described. Then I went and fetched some books—the +<cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite>, some of the Upanishads, and +other works. He had never even heard their names. +I opened the <cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite>, almost at random, and +pointed him out a passage. He almost clapped his +hands for joy. “Oh yes, that is exactly what I +feel.” He seized the book, and turned over the +pages, pouncing on passage after passage with +delight. “Yes, yes, that is just it!” There was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>no doubt about his sincere and instant appreciation. +Then I showed him the passage in the <cite>Bhagavat +Gita</cite> about moderation in eating and moderation in +abstinence; but he did not seem inclined to agree. +“I just do what God tells me.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Finally I <i>gave</i> him the <cite>Gita</cite>, and some other +books of similar character. And he on his side +decided to return to America “to-morrow”—and insisted +on my writing at once for a cab. I did not +attempt to dissuade him—feeling that perhaps he was +right—also that his friends in America would be +more satisfied if he returned.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Meanwhile he <i>looked</i> ever so much better than +when he came into the house—and evidently was so—“glad +to have carried out what he had to do,” +he said. I told him that on board ship his mind +would settle itself; and he went off.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He wrote from Liverpool next day, saying he was +very happy; and a month or so later from Colorado—in +which letter he said, “The <i>unseen force</i> which +caused me to quit eating caused me to begin again +(as suddenly as I quit). My fast was merely a +part of the <i>lesson</i> which is continually before me.” +Since then I have heard from him from time to time. +In one letter he says: “I am feeling fine, and +slowly but surely am I (as a child) permitted to +learn the <i>a, b, c</i> of <i>real life</i>. It is my belief that +we are all permitted to pierce the veil that conceals +<i>real Life</i> from our view, only accordingly as our +minds are ready to absorb the knowledge gained +thereby. From a point of view of Cosmic Consciousness +I am beginning my life all over again, +and am only beginning in a small way to see and +understand some of the simpler truths of the same; +but I have lost much of that feeling of haste, and +learning with the idea in mind that I have all eternity +<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>to learn in. My folk and relatives all glad that I +am home and quit my wanderings for the present. +I think I shall engage in mining again in a small +way. This mining camp is about 10,000 feet altitude, +and the weather is beautiful, plenty sunshine, +and not cold winter weather.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>In his latest to me he says: “You will remember +when I visited you I said you would never die. +I still feel same way and see no chance of my +dying, personally it is a matter of indifference whether +I live or die. If I must die in order to live again, +so be it, but may we not be permitted to enjoy +eternal life here and now? I think so. I think +the Harvest of the world is ripe, but such great +changes are slow and almost unnoticeable and I +think overlap each other, so that <i>harvest</i> or death +of one thing is the Birth of another, that is consciousness +of Eternal Life becoming more general. Well, +I think that I have written enough that you may see +the drift of my mind, and I think that is what you +want. Love to Mr. Merrill and yourself, yours truly, +<span class='sc'>C. E. Grogan</span>.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>To which words of Grogan’s I would only add: +“No doubt we <i>are</i> permitted to enjoy eternal life +here and now—even in this tiniest corner, wherever +it may be, of space and time.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XI<br> THE STORY OF MY BOOKS</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>The fate of my books has been interesting—at any +rate to myself! Leaving aside <cite>Narcissus and Other +Poems</cite>, and <cite>Moses: a Drama</cite>—which were written in +early days at Cambridge, and were only, so to speak, +exercises in literature and efforts to vie with then-accepted +models—<cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, of course, has +been the start-point and kernel of all my later work, +the centre from which the other books have radiated. +Whatever obvious weaknesses and defects it may +present, I have still always been aware that it was +written from a different <i>plane</i> from the other works, +from some predominant mood or consciousness superseding +the purely intellectual. Indeed, so strong has +been this feeling that, though tempted once or twice +to make alterations from the latter point of view, I +have never really ventured to do so; and now, after +more than thirty years since the inception of the +book, I am entirely glad to think that I have not.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is a curious question—and one which literary +criticism has never yet tackled—why it is that certain +books, or certain passages in books, will bear reading +over and over again without becoming stale; that +you can return to them after months or years and +find entirely new meanings in them which had escaped +you on the first occasion; and that this can even go +on happening time after time, while other books and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>passages are exhausted at the first reading and need +never be looked at again. How is it possible that +the same phrase or concatenation of words should +bear within itself meaning behind meaning, horizon +after horizon of significance and suggestion? Yet +such undoubtedly is the case. Portions of the poetic +and religious literature of most countries, and large +portions of books like <cite>Leaves of Grass</cite>, the <cite>Bhagavat +Gita</cite>, Plato’s <cite>Banquet</cite>, Dante’s <cite>Divina Commedia</cite>, +have this inexhaustible germinative quality. One +returns to them again and again, and continually +finds fresh interpretations lurking beneath the old +and familiar words.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I imagine that the explanation is somewhat on this +wise: That in the case of passages that are exhausted +at a first reading (like statements say of Church +doctrine or political or scientific theory) we are simply +being presented with an intellectual ‘view’ of some +fact; but that in the other cases in some mysterious +way the words succeed in conveying the fact itself. +It is like the difference between the actual solid shape +of a mountain and the different views of the mountain +obtainable from different sides. They are two things +of a different order and dimension. It almost seems +as if some mountain-facts of our experience <i>can</i> be +imaged forth by words in such a way that the phrases +themselves retain this quality of solidity, and consequently +their outlines of meaning vary according +to the angle at which the reader approaches them +and the variation of the reader’s mind. None of the +outlines are final, and the solid content of the phrase +remains behind and eludes them all. Anyhow the +matter is a most mysterious one; but as a fact it +remains, and demands explanation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I have felt somehow with regard to <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite> that—while my other books were merely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>subsidiary and mainly represented ‘views’ and +‘aspects’—this one (with all its imperfections) had +that central quality and kind of other-dimensional +solidity to which I have been alluding. And my +experiences in writing it have corroborated that +feeling.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I have spoken elsewhere about the considerable +period of gestation and suffering which preceded the +birth of this book; nor were its troubles over when +it made its first appearance in the world. The first +edition, printed and published by John Heywood of +Manchester, at my own expense, fell quite flat. The +infant showed hardly any signs of life. The Press +ignored the book or jeered at it. I can only find +one notice by a London paper of the first year of +its publication, and that is by the old sixpenny +<cite>Graphic</cite> (of August 11, 1883), saying—not without +a sort of pleasant humour—that the phrases are +“suggestive of a lunatic Ollendorf, with stage +directions,” and ending up with the admission that +“the book is truly mystic, wonderful—like nothing +so much as a nightmare after too earnest a study +of the Koran!” The <cite>Saturday Review</cite> got hold +of the <i>second</i> edition, and devoted a long article +(March 27, 1886) to slating it and my socialist +pamphlets (<cite>Desirable Mansions</cite>, etc.) as instances of +“the kind of teaching which is now commonly set +before the more ignorant classes, and which is probably +accepted in good faith by not a few among +them. A haphazard collection of fallacies, to which +the semblance of a basis is given by half a dozen +truisms, flavored by a little Carlylese, or by diluted +extracts of Walt Whitman ... such is the compound +which ‘cultivated’ Socialism offers as a new +and saving faith to the working classes, and of which +the works before us offer a good example.” Then +<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>follow severe comments on my absurd views about +Usury and the manners and customs of the Rich, +and finally a long quotation from <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>; of which book the writer says: “And +this sort of thing goes on through two hundred and +fifty pages, the blank monotony of which is only +relieved here and there by a few passages which +it would be undesirable to quote, and which it is +not wholesome to read.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>The London Press—when it did deign to notice +my work—followed the same sort of lead; and it +was left (as usual) to comparative outsiders to +make any real discovery in the matter. Curiously +enough, a very young man (George Moore-Smith) in +a long article in the <cite>Cambridge Review</cite> of November +14, 1883, led the way in drawing serious attention +to the first edition. The <cite>Indian Review</cite> (Wm. +Digby) of May 1885 had a remarkably sympathetic +and intelligent notice of the second edition, and I owe +much to my friend W. P. Byles’ introduction of the +book to Northern readers through the <cite>Bradford +Observer</cite> (of March 19, 1886); also to an article +by H. Rowlandson in <cite>The Dublin University Review</cite> +for April, 1886.</p> + +<p class='c011'>With the third edition (1892) a certain amount +of timid acknowledgment set in. Notices in a few +more or less well-known papers were friendly though +brief and cautious, as with a scent of danger. The +fourth and complete edition did not appear till ten +years later (1902), and by that time the book had +established itself. It had ceased to demand Press-appreciations, +favorable or otherwise; and so the +critics—<i>very luckily for themselves</i>—escaped, and have +escaped, without ever having had to give any sort +of full pronouncement or verdict on the book!</p> + +<p class='c011'>To return to the first edition. I had only five +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>hundred copies printed; but at the end of two years +when I had gathered material enough for a second +edition, there was still a hundred or so of these on +hand. All the same I did not feel any serious misgiving. +I caused a thousand copies to be printed of +the second edition (260 pp.), sent them round to the +Press again, and waited. This was in 1885. If +anything the reception accorded was worse than +before—in a sense worse—because there was more +of it! By 1892—when I needed to print a third +edition—only some seven hundred copies of the second +edition had gone. Seven hundred in seven years! +The prospects were not good, yet I did not feel +depressed. I had certainly not expected any great +sale; and there were even signs of improvement. +My <i>other</i> books were beginning to attract a little +attention. It was obviously also hard on this book +to have it published in Manchester. So I determined +to go to London. There was no possible +chance of getting a publisher there to take it as his +own speculation; so I went to Mr. Fisher Unwin +and asked him to print at my expense and sell it +on commission—which he naturally was quite willing +to do! The book had now grown to 368 pp., and +its price had to be raised from 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d.; +but its sales actually improved, and for two or three +years ranged at about two hundred copies a year. +I began to think it was just possible that my little +bark would navigate itself, that it would float out +on deeper waters and into the world-current; when +something disastrous happened which left it in the +shallows for quite a few years longer.</p> + +<p class='c011'>That something was the Oscar Wilde trial or trials, +which took place in the spring of 1895; but to +understand how they affected <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> +I must go back a little. Early in 1894 I started +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>writing a series of pamphlets on sex-questions—those +questions which at that time were generally tabooed +and practically not discussed at all, though they now +have become almost an obsession of the public mind. +As pamphlets of that kind would have no chance +with the ordinary publishers, I got them printed +and issued by the Manchester Labour Press—a little +association for the spread of Socialist literature, on +the committee of which I was. The pamphlets were +<cite>Sex-love</cite>, <cite>Woman</cite>, and <cite>Marriage</cite>; and they sold +pretty well—three or four thousand copies each. +Encouraged by their success I began early in ’95 +to put them together, and add fresh matter to them, +till I had a book ready for publication—which I +afterwards entitled <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>. This +book I offered to Fisher Unwin (as he was already +selling <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>) and he accepted it—undertaking +to produce the book himself and give +me a fair Royalty. His Agreement was signed in +June 1895.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Meanwhile, in January 1895 (though dated 1894) +I issued from the Labour Press, and in the same +connection as the other pamphlets, a fourth one, +entitled <cite>Homogenic Love</cite>—which I suppose was +among the first attempts in this country to deal +at all publicly with the problems of the Intermediate +Sex. I placed “printed for private circulation only” +on the Title-page, and had only a comparatively +small number of copies struck off—which were not +sold but sent round pretty freely to those who I +thought would be interested in the subject or able +to contribute views or information upon it. My +object in fact was to get in touch with others and +to obtain material for future study or publication. +Even in this quiet way the pamphlet created some +alarm—and in the dove-cotes of Fleet Street (as I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>heard) caused no little fluttering and agitation; but it +is quite possible the matter would have ended there, if +it had not been for the Oscar Wilde troubles. Wilde +was arrested in April 1895 and from that moment +a sheer panic prevailed over <i>all</i> questions of sex, +and especially of course questions of the Intermediate +Sex.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I did not include <cite>Homogenic Love</cite> in my proposed +new book, nor had I any intention of including +it; but when the mere existence of the thing came +to the knowledge of Fisher Unwin he was so perturbed +that he actually cancelled his Agreement with +me, with regard to the book <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>, +and broke loose from it. It was in vain that I +tried to restrain him. He had got his leg over the +trace, as it were, and was ‘off.’ Indeed, he was +quite willing to sacrifice the expense he had already +incurred (for the book was now partly set up) rather +than go on with it. Under the circumstances I +could not, of course, very well compel him to publish. +Moreover I felt sorry for his perturbation, +and quite understood some of its causes. The extent +of it was finally shown by his going so far as to +turn <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> out of his shop, and refuse +to publish <i>that</i> any longer!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Thus my two books <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> and +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite>—like two poor little orphans—were +both out on the wide world again.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For the moment I will go on with <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>. +Being routed by Fisher Unwin, I went +to Sonnenschein, Bertram Dobell, and others—altogether +five or six publishers—but they all +shook their heads. The Wilde trial had done its +work; and silence must henceforth reign on sex-subjects.<a id='r19'></a><a href='#f19' class='c012'><sup>[19]</sup></a> +There was nothing left for me but to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>return to my little Labour Press at Manchester, and +get the book printed and published from there—which +I did, the first edition being issued in 1896.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is curious to think that that was not twenty +years ago, and what a landslide has occurred since +then! In ’96 no ‘respectable’ publisher would touch +the volume, and yet to-day [1915] the tide of such +literature has flowed so full and fast that my book +has already become quite a little old-fashioned and +demure! But the severe resistance and rigidity of +public opinion at the time made the volume very +difficult to write. The readiness, the absolute determination +of people to <i>misunderstand</i> if they +possibly could, rendered it very difficult to guard +against misunderstandings, and as a matter of fact +nearly every chapter in the book was written four +or five times over before I was satisfied with it.</p> + +<p class='c011'><cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> ought of course (like some +parts of <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>) to have been written by +a woman; but, though I tried, I could not get any +of my women-friends to take the subject up, and +so had to deal with it myself. Ellen Key, in Sweden, +began—I fancy about the same period—writing that +fine series of books on <i>Love</i>, <cite>Marriage</cite>, <cite>Childhood</cite>, +and so forth, which have done so much to illuminate +the Western World; but at that time I knew nothing +of her and her work.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My book circulated almost immediately to some +extent in the Socialistic world, where my name was +fairly well known; but some time elapsed before +it penetrated into more literary and more ‘respectable’ +circles. One of the first signs of its succeeding +in the latter direction took a rather amusing +shape. I had, one day, to call upon a well-known +London publisher (who was already publishing some +of my books, though he had refused this particular +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>one) on business, and having discussed the matters +immediately in hand, he presently turned to me and +inquired how my <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> was selling. +I of course gave a fairly favorable account. “I +think,” said he in a somewhat chastened tone “that +perhaps we made rather a mistake in refusing some +little time back to take it up. A Sunday or two +ago I was at church [probably a Congregational +or Unitarian Chapel], and the minister quoted a +page or two from your book, and spoke very highly +of it, and actually gave the published address and +price, and all; and I saw quite a lot of people +noting the references down.” He paused, and then +added, “Quite a good advertisement—worth thirty +or forty copies I daresay.” I could not help smiling. +No wonder he was sorry! But the story gave +promise of better things to come.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In 1902 the said publishing firm was glad to +tale the book up and publish it on commission for +me—which they (and their successors) have done +ever since. And its sale in England (though not +phenomenal like that of the German translation) +has, I must say, been very good.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To return to <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. Considering +its expulsion from Mr. Fisher Unwin’s shop and +the generally panicky condition of the book market +in London, there seemed nothing to do but to return +to Manchester and place it also in the hands of the +little Labour Press for publication. The two +thousand or so copies remaining in Unwin’s hands +were my property, and I had only to remove them +to Manchester, get a new title-page printed, and +have them issued from there. This I accordingly +did, and in ’96 the Labour Press edition appeared—368 +pp., the same as Fisher Unwin’s. Naturally +the Labour Press connection was not very favorable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>as regards circulation, and the price (3s. 6d.) +was high for Socialist and Labour circles. The +spread of the book remained slow—slower of course +than it had been with Unwin, and hardly amounted +to a hundred copies a year.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This was bad; but worse remained behind. +Somewhere early in 1901 the Labour Press—whose +financial affairs had never been very satisfactory—went +bankrupt! I knew of course what was pending; +and as the stock of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> +belonged to <i>me</i>, and I knew that if left at the +Press it would be in danger of falling into the +creditors’ hands, there was nothing left but to +smuggle it away as soon as I could into some place +of safe keeping. Mr. James Johnston, City Councillor, +always a good friend, came to the rescue and +offered me storage room in his office. I hired a +dray. And so one foggy day, with a good part +of a ton of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> on board—which I +helped to load and unload—I jogged with the drayman +through the streets of Manchester amid the +huge turmoil of the cotton goods and other traffic. +A strange load—and I never before realized how +heavy the book was!</p> + +<p class='c011'>It lay there for some months, and then about +July of the same year I made arrangements with +Sonnenschein & Co. for them to sell the book on +commission, and the stock was transferred into their +hands. From that time its sales slowly went forward—from +a hundred or a hundred and fifty per annum +in 1902, to eight hundred or nine hundred in 1910, +when the Sonnenschein business, and with it my book, +passed into the hands of George Allen & Co. In +1902 the fourth part of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, i.e. +“Who shall command the Heart” was published; +and in 1905 this was incorporated with the three +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>former parts in one complete volume. Later in the +same year I succeeded (a long cherished project) +in producing a pocket edition of the whole on India +paper, which has ever since sold alongside and <i>pari +passu</i> with the Library edition. Thus after twenty-one +years (in 1902) these writings (begun in 1881) +came to an end; and three years later the book +took its definite and permanent form in print and +binding, and some sort of rather indefinite place +in the world of letters.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Talking about their place in the world of letters, +some of my books have, I fear, puzzled the public +by their titles. <cite>Ioläus</cite> has been much of an offender +in this way. The uncertainty as to who or what +Ioläus might be, the difficulty of knowing how to +spell the word, and the impossibility of pronouncing +it, proved at one time such obstacles that they quite +adversely affected the sales. On one occasion I +received a telegram from a firm asking me to send +at once two hundred Oil-cans. My puzzlement was +great, as I had indeed never embarked in the oil +trade, nor in my wildest dreams thought of doing +so—till suddenly it flashed upon me that the message, +having had to pass through a rustic post-office, had +been transformed on the way, and that the romantic +friend and companion of Hercules had been turned +into a paraffin tin! After that I modified the title +so as to avoid any such sacrilege in the future.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Coming back to <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> again, I do +not know that I have ever seen a very serious +estimate or criticism of that book in any well-known +literary paper. Like others of my works +it has come into the literary sheep-fold not through +the accepted gate but “some other way, like a thief +or a robber.” It has been generally ignored—as +already explained—by the guardians of the gate, yet +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>it has quietly and decisively established itself, and +the ‘sheep’ somehow have taken kindly to the +‘robber.’ And perhaps the matter is best so. A +book of that kind is not easy to criticize; it cannot +be dispatched by a snap phrase; it does not belong +to any distinct class or school; its form is open +to question; its message is at once too simple and +too intricate for public elucidation—even if really +understood by the interpreter. That it should go +its own way quietly, neither applauded by the crowd, +nor barked at by the dogs, but knocking softly here +and there at a door and finding friendly hospitality—is +surely its most gracious and satisfying destiny.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But though the ignoring by the critics of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite> has seemed natural and proper, I confess +I have been somewhat surprised by their non-recognition +or non-discussion of the questions dealt +with in the other books; because, as I have said +these books are on a different plane from <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>. They deal with theories or views which +flow (as I think) perfectly logically from the central +idea of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>—just as the different +views or aspects of a mountain flow perfectly logically +from the mountain-fact itself. We cannot discuss +the central idea, but we can discuss the aspects, +because they come within the range of intellectual +apprehension and definition. If the world—it seems +to me—should ever seize the central fact of such +books as <cite>Leaves of Grass</cite> and <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, +it must inevitably formulate new views of life on +almost every conceivable subject: the aspects of +all life will be changed. And the discussion and +definition of these views ought to be extraordinarily +interesting. It is therefore surprising I say that no +serious discussion of the underlying or implicit +assumptions of these two books has yet taken place. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>It is true, of course, that to-day the world is witnessing +a strange change of attitude on almost all +questions, and a vague feeling after the new aspects +to which I am alluding; but it does not concatenate +these views on to any central fact, and therefore +cannot deal with them adequately or effectively. It +is as if people, having taken drawings of a hitherto +undiscovered mountain from many different sides, +and comparing them together, should not realize that +it is the <i>same</i> mountain which they have been +observing all the time, and that there <i>is</i> a unity +and a reality there which will explain and concatenate +all the outlines. I say it is a little disappointing +that this point has not yet been reached, because it +would make the discussion and definition of the +new views so wonderfully interesting. On the other +hand it is obvious that in the midst of the enormous +output and rush of modern literature, critics generally +have thrown up the sponge, and are content to +get through their work perfunctorily or as best they +can, without the added labour of tackling, or +attempting to tackle, a great new synthesis.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The attempt made a quarter of a century ago—in +<cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>—to define the characteristics +of (modern) civilization, and to show the +civilization-period as a distinct stage in social evolution, +destined to pass away and to be succeeded by +a later stage—of which later stage even now some +of the features may be indicated—has never as far +as I know been seriously taken up and worked out. +The Socialists of course have certain views on the +subject, but they are limited to the economic field, +and do not by any means cover the whole ground; +and various doctrinaire sets and sects are nibbling +at the problem from different sides; but a real statement +and investigation of the whole question, and a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>linking of it up to deepest spiritual facts, would +obviously be absorbingly interesting. I first read +the paper which bears the above name at the Fabian +Society (? in 1888), and, needless to say, it was +jeered at on all sides; but since then, somehow, a +change has come, and even Sidney Webb and Bernard +Shaw, who most attacked me at the time, have +ceased to use the word ‘Civilization’ in its old +optimistic and mid-Victorian sense. What we want +now is a real summing-up and settling of what the +word connotes—both from the historical point of +view, and with regard to the future.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another paper in the same book, which shocked +a good many of my Cambridge friends, was my +“Criticism of Modern Science.” The Victorian +age glorified modern Science—not only in respect +of its patient and assiduous observation of facts, +which every one allows, but also on account +of the supposed Laws of Nature which it had +discovered, and which were accounted immutable +and everlasting. A light arising from some quite +other source convinced me that this infallibility of +the scientific “Laws” was an entire illusion. I +had been brought up on mathematics and physical +science. I had lectured for years on the latter. But +now the reaction set in; and—rather rudely and +crudely it must be confessed—I turned on my old +teacher to rend her! I published in 1885, and in +Manchester, a shilling pamphlet called <cite>Modern +Science: A Criticism</cite>, and sent it round to my +mathematical and scientific friends. I think most +of them thought I had gone daft! But, after all, +the whirligig of Time has brought its revenge, and +the inevitable evolution of human thought has done +its work; and now, one may ask, where <i>are</i> the +airy fairy laws and theories of the Science of the last +<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>century? The great stores of observations and facts +are certainly there, and so are the marvellous applications +of these things to practical life—but where are +the immutable Laws?—where are the clean-cut +systems of the families and species of plants and +animals? where is Boyle’s law of gases? where the +stability of the planetary orbits? where the permanence +and indestructibility of the atom? where is +the theory of gravitation, where the theory of light, +the theory of electricity? the law of supply and +demand in Political Economy, of Natural Selection +in Biology? of the fixity of the Elements in +Chemistry, or the succession of the strata in Geology? +All gone into the melting-pot—and quickly losing +their outlines!</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is true that in the great brew which is being +thus formed, rags and chunks of the old “Laws of +Nature” are still discernible; but no one supposes +they are there for long, and on all sides it is obvious +that the scientific world is giving up the search for +them, and the expectation (in the face of such things +as radium, Hertzian waves, Karyokinesis and so forth) +of ever reconstituting Science again on the old Victorian +basis. These fixed ‘Laws,’ it is pretty evident, +and their remaining débris, will melt away, till out +of the seething brew something entirely different +and unexpected emerges. And that will be?... +Yes, what indeed out of such a Cauldron <i>might</i> be +expected to emerge—a strange and wonderful Figure, +a living Form!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Yet the curious thing is that while this process of +the dissolution of scientific theory is going on before +our eyes, and on all sides, no one seems to be aware +of it—at any rate no one sums it up, gives it outline +and definition, or tackles its meaning and result. +Tolstoy was pleased with the attacks on Modern +<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>Science contained in <cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>, +wrote to me about it, and had the chapter printed in +Russian, with a preface by himself. But his point +of view was that Science being a serious enemy to +Religion anything which bombarded and crippled +Science would help to free Religion. That was +not my point of view. I do not regard Science—or +rather Intellectualism—as the foe of Religion, +but more as a stage which <i>has to be passed through</i> +on the way to a higher order of perception or consciousness—which +might possibly be termed Religion—only +the word religion is too vague to be very +applicable here.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another airy castle which is obviously fading away +before our eyes is that of the “Laws” of Morality. +The whole structure of civilization-morality is being +rapidly undermined. The moral aspects of Property, +Commerce, Class-relations, Sex-relations, Marriage, +Patriotism, and so forth, are shifting like dissolving +views. Nietzsche has scorched up the old Christian +altruism; Bernard Shaw has burned the Decalogue. +Yet (in this country and according to our custom) +we jog along and pretend not to see what is happening. +No body of people faces out the situation, +or attempts to foretell its future. The Ethical society +professes to substitute Ethics for Religion, as a basis +of social life; yet never once has it informed us what +it means by Ethics! The Law courts go mumbling +on over ancient measures of right and wrong which +the man in the street has long ago discarded. Much +less has any group attempted to foreshadow the new +Morality, and concatenate it on to the great root-fact +of existence. In my “Defence of Criminals: a +Criticism of Morality,”<a id='r20'></a><a href='#f20' class='c012'><sup>[20]</sup></a> I gave an outline and an +indication of what was happening, and of the way +<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>out into the future; but that paper, as far as I +know, has never been seriously discussed.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nevertheless under the surface new ideas are forming, +the lines of the coming life are spreading. The +book <cite>Civilization</cite>—first published by Sonnenschein, +in 1889—has had a good circulation, and been translated +into many languages. Though somewhat hastily +and crudely put together, yet owing to a certain <i>élan</i> +about it, and probably largely owing to the fact that +it gives expression to the main issues above-mentioned, +it has been well received.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One idea, which runs all through the book—namely, +that of there being three great stages of +Consciousness: the simple consciousness (of the +animal or of primitive man), the self-consciousness +(of the civilized or intellectual man), and the mass-consciousness +or cosmic consciousness of the coming +man, is only roughly sketched there, but is developed +more fully in <cite>The Art of Creation</cite>. It is of course +deeply germane to <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. And though +we may not yet be in a position to define the conception +very exactly, still it is quite evident, I think, that +some such evolution into a further order of consciousness +is the key to the future, and that many æons to +come (of human progress) will be ruled by it. Dr. +Richard Bucke, by the publication (in 1901) of his +book <cite>Cosmic Consciousness</cite> made a great contribution +to the cause of humanity. The book was a bit +casual, hurried, doctrinaire, un-literary, and so forth, +but it brought together a mass of material, and +did the inestimable service of being the first to +systematically consider and analyse the subject. +Strangely here again we find that his book—though +always spreading and circulating about the world, +beneath the surface—has elicited no serious recognition +or response from the accredited authorities, philosophers, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>psychologists, and so forth; and the subject +with which it deals is in such circles practically +ignored—though in comparatively unknown coteries +it may be warmly discussed. So the world goes on—the +real expanding vital forces being always +beneath the surface and hidden, as in a bud, while +the accepted forms and conclusions are little more +than a vari-coloured husk, waiting to be thrown off.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Relating itself closely and logically with the idea +(1) of the three stages of Consciousness is that +(2) of the Berkeleyan view of matter—the idea that +matter in itself is an illusion, being only a film +between soul and soul: <i>called</i> matter when the film +is opaque to the perceiving soul, but called mind +when the latter sees through to the intelligence behind +it. And these stages again relate logically to the +idea (3) of the Universal or Omnipresent Self. The +<cite>Art of Creation</cite> was written to give expression to +these three ideas and the natural deductions from +them.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The doctrine of the Universal Self is obviously +fundamental; and it is clear that once taken hold +of and adopted it must inevitably revolutionize all +our views of Morality—since current morality is +founded on the separation of self from self; and +must revolutionize too all our views of Science. Such +matters as the Transmutation of Chemical Elements, +the variation of biological Species, the unity of +Health, the unity of Disease, our views of Political +Economy and Psychology; Production for Use +instead of for Profit, Communism, Telepathy; the +relation between Psychology and Physiology, and +so forth, must take on quite a new complexion when +the idea which lies at the root of them is seized. +This idea must enable us to understand the continuity +of Man with the Protozoa, the relation of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>the physiological centres, on the one hand to the +individual Man and on the other to the Race from +which he springs, the meaning of Reincarnation, and +the physical conditions of its occurrence. It must +have eminently practical applications; as in the +bringing of the Races of the world together, the +gradual evolution of a Non-governmental form of +Society, the Communalization of Land and Capital, +the freeing of Woman to equality with Man, the +extension of the monogamic Marriage into some kind +of group-alliance, the restoration and full recognition +of the heroic friendships of Greek and primitive +times; and again in the sturdy Simplification and +debarrassment of daily life by the removal of those +things which stand between us and Nature, between +ourselves and our fellows—by plain living, friendship +with the Animals, open-air habits, fruitarian +food, and such degree of Nudity as we can reasonably +attain to.</p> + +<p class='c011'>These mental and social changes and movements +and many others which are all around us waiting +for recognition, will clearly, when they ripen, constitute +a revolution in human life deeper and more +far-reaching than any which we know of belonging +to historical times. Even any <i>one</i> of them, worked +out practically, would be fatal to most of our existing +institutions. Together they would form a revolution +so great that to call it a mere extension or +outgrowth of Civilization would be quite inadequate. +Rather we must look upon them as the preparation +for a stage entirely different from and beyond Civilization. +To tackle these things in advance, to prepare +for them, study them, understand them is clearly +absolutely necessary. It is a duty which—however +burked or ignored for a time—will soon be forced +upon us by the march of events. And it is a duty +which cannot effectively be fulfilled piecemeal, but +only by regarding all these separate movements of +the human mind, and of society, as part and parcel +of one great underlying movement—one great new +disclosure of the human Soul.</p> + +<div id='i231' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i231.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>Self in Porch<br> <br> 1905</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>My little covey of books, dating from <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>, has been hatched mainly for the purpose +of giving expression to these and other various questions +which—raised in my mind by the writing of +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite>—demanded clearer statement +than they could find there. <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> +came first, as a Vision, so to speak, and a revelation—as +a great body of feeling and intuition which I +<i>had</i> to put into words as best I could. It carried +with it—as a flood carries trees and rocks from +the mountains where it originates—all sorts of +assumptions and conclusions. Afterwards—for my +own satisfaction as much as for the sake of others—I +had to examine and define these assumptions and +conclusions.</p> + +<p class='c011'>That was the origin of my prose writings—most +of them—of <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>, <cite>Civilization</cite>, <cite>The Art +of Creation</cite>, <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>, <cite>The Intermediate +Sex</cite>, <cite>The Drama of Love and Death</cite>, <cite>Angels’ Wings</cite>, +<cite>Non-governmental Society</cite>,<a id='r21'></a><a href='#f21' class='c012'><sup>[21]</sup></a> <cite>A Visit to a Gñani</cite>,<a id='r22'></a><a href='#f22' class='c012'><sup>[22]</sup></a> and +so forth. They, like the questions they deal with, +have led a curious underground life in the literary +world, spreading widely as a matter of fact, yet +not on the surface. Like old moles they have worked +away unseen and unobserved, yet in such a manner +as to throw up heaps here and there and in the most +unlikely places, and bring back friends to me on all +sides—lovely and beautiful friends for whom I cannot +sufficiently thank them.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XII<br> PERSONALITIES—I</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>It is curious that, with my somewhat antinomian +tendencies, I should have gone to Trinity Hall—which +was, and is, before all a Law College—and +should thus have been thrown into close touch with +the <i>legal</i> element in life. As an undergraduate, +whose days were consumed in boating and mathematics, +this was not noticeable; but it was not +entirely after my heart when I became a Fellow, to +find myself in a society which was almost wholly +composed of barristers; and in after life to discover +that my friends of early days had nearly all become +eminent K.C.’s and Judges!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Just before my entering Trinity Hall, an undergraduate +of that College, Robert Romer, had become +Senior Wrangler—and I really believe this had something +to do with my selecting the College for myself. +The ‘Hall’ men were hugely delighted, as this distinction +in the Tripos had never come to the College +before—the more so, because Romer was a boating +man and rowed in the First Boat; and a myth grew +up (possibly encouraged by the subject himself, and +in order to show how easily a real boating man +can do anything he turns himself to!) that he passed +his examinations by the light of nature, and never +needed to ‘swot’ like an ordinary mortal. Others +however said—and this was a more likely explanation—that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>he used to sit at his study table with a +pot of beer and a sporting journal before him, while +in the open drawer of the table lay his mathematical +books and papers. When a knock came at the +door it was the simplest thing in the world to close +the drawer, and be found consuming his ale! After +his degree he remained at Cambridge for a time +as mathematical coach, but was by no means a +success in that line. He could not sympathize with +a learner’s difficulties; and when a pupil came to +him with a problem which he could not understand, +Romer would say “What? You can’t +understand that? You can’t understand that?—then +God help you, I can’t!” Naturally he +soon gave up teaching and took to the Bar. After +<i>my</i> degree—when we were Fellows of the College +together—I saw quite a little of him: a rough, muscular-brained, +“damn-your-eyes” type of man, and +as may be imagined quite ignorant of art and literature, +but good-natured and healthy. Later however +the sheer physical force of his mentality took him +to the highest reaches of the legal profession (Lord +Justice of Appeal) and he passed out of my +sphere.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another Senior Wrangler whom I knew fairly well, +as he headed the Tripos in my own year (1868), +and who afterwards became Lord Justice (in the +Court of Patents) was J. Fletcher Moulton. He +was one of those people who without any great depth +of intellect or even of character possessed an extraordinary +rapidity of mind. His information was +encyclopædic, and in examinations he threw off his +papers with the airy ease of a tree throwing off +its dead leaves in autumn; to the wonderment indeed +both of examiners and fellow-students. Yet I am +not aware that he ever contributed anything very +<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>original in the study of mathematics or law—or in +any other department of human thought.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Great success in examinations does naturally not +as a rule go with originality of thought. W. K. +Clifford who had undoubtedly one of the finest mathematical, +scientific, and philosophical minds of the +period of which I am speaking was only Second +Wrangler; and my friend Robert F. Muirhead who, +as Smith’s Prizeman and later, has contributed important +papers on mathematical subjects, was nowhere +to speak of in his Tripos. One could hardly of +course expect that originality and the pigeon-hole +mind should go together.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To return to our Judges. That men like Romer +and Moulton should attain the highest places in their +profession is natural; but I confess I have been +surprised (having known them so well in boating +days) at the kind of men who are commonly made +High Court or County Court Judges. I will not mention +names (!)—but here is one, for instance, who +was Captain of the boat-club in my time—a physically +powerful, but mentally quite muddle-headed person; +here is another, whose <i>forte</i> was <i>boxing</i> (no harm +in that, but one might have wished that he had +other interests besides)—a rather brutish and decidedly +illiterate type; a third, whose constitution, +both physical and mental, was feeble, but who had +powerful relatives in the legal profession. All these +were of the kind that have considerable difficulty in +passing their elementary examinations. And there +were many more of the same kind. Nevertheless, +having once got their feet on the ladder, they have +slowly and gradually—by family influence or sheer +physical health (an important thing)—climbed nearly +to the top. No blame to them, certainly; but one +cannot help asking—and I put the question especially +<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>to Labour M.P.’s: Are these the sort of men we +really require for such posts? Let alone their want +of bookish culture—which perhaps does not so much +matter—we cannot but ask: What do men of this +class—who have been brought up at a public school, +who have worked hard at boating or cricket at the +University, who afterwards have buried themselves +in law-chambers and the purlieus of the Courts—and +whose acquaintance with manual workers is +pretty well confined to ‘scouts’ and ‘gyps’ and +an occasional gamekeeper in the country—what do +they know about the great mass-people on whom +they have to sit in judgment, about the habits and +temperament and customs of life of the latter? and +how on earth are they qualified to bring order +and good sense and real sympathy and understanding +into that most important branch of public life—the +administration of the law? These are indeed questions +to which serious answers will have to be given +ere long.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I have already mentioned Henry Fawcett (afterwards +Postmaster-General) who was a Fellow of +Trinity Hall at the time of which I am speaking. +The story of his blindness is well known. It was +only just after his degree that he was out pheasant-shooting +with his father. In a rather thick covert +the father fired at a bird, unknowing that his son +was standing in the line of fire. Two small shot +struck the latter—one entering into each eye—a +strange and fatal chance. It was the father, I think, +who told me that as soon as Henry knew that he +was permanently blinded he said “Well, it shan’t +make any difference in my plans of life!” And +certainly it made very little. As may be guessed +from that, Fawcett was a man of astounding pluck +and vitality—a vitality which would have been almost +<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>overbearing if it had not been tempered by extreme +good nature—and his force of character, combined +with very democratic sympathies, enabled him despite +his blindness to do valuable work in Parliament and +in connection with the Post Office. The adoring +gratitude of the father at the public success of the +son whom he had so badly crippled was most +touching, and he would follow his son about the +country and attend his public meetings for the mere +pleasure of witnessing his success. As Fawcett was +member for Brighton—and my father lent his support +to his candidature—he, and Mrs. Fawcett, used frequently +to dine with us at Brunswick Square, and +I saw a good deal of them both at Brighton and at +Cambridge. Fawcett’s pluck and vitality were however +sometimes a trial to his friends. I have a +rather <i>too</i> vivid recollection of riding with him, over +the Brighton Downs or along the green lanes of +Cambridgeshire. “Carpenter,” he would say, “this +is a nice piece of grass, isn’t it? Let’s have a +canter.” Then he would set off at an amazing rate, +and I would have to keep close alongside of him, +with a sharp look-out and warning for unexpected +ditches and stoneheaps, and in momentary fear of +a headlong fall—which for a man of his weight +would have been a terrible thing! Or he would +insist on my coming to skate with him, in winter, +on the Cam. We would go five or six miles down +the river, and back—he holding one end of a stick +and I the other. That was all very well if the ice +was sound, but every one knows what river ice is; +and I have often skated with him when I, being a +light weight, passed over easily, while he, holding +on to the stick and a pace or two behind, was cracking +through at every other step. The prospect of +having to fish a public man, weighty in every sense, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>out of a flowing river was certainly not pleasant. +However I am happy to say that I was not present +with him at any disaster. Except once. That was +at a public meeting when he was speaking, at +Brighton. I was on the platform. A stone was +thrown by some one at the back of the hall, which +struck him on the forehead, causing blood to flow. +Great sensation ensued. For the moment he felt a +little faint and relapsed into a chair. Ladies rushed +up on all sides with smelling salts. However in a +few minutes he was all right, and resumed his +speech. Afterwards he said to me “I didn’t mind +the stone; but those scent-bottles made me sick!” +So it will be seen that he and I had points in +common! Since his death Mrs. Fawcett and I have +still met not unfrequently—generally perhaps as joint +speakers on some Women’s Suffrage platform.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Charles Wentworth Dilke was a ‘Hall’ man. He +had just taken his degree when I arrived as a +‘freshman’; but he stayed up in College for a +year or so more on account of some law-examination +or other. He never became a Fellow, but was +an enthusiastic lover of his College; and was always +very good to us undergraduates. I remember breakfasting +with him at his rooms, and his showing me, +pencilled on his door-jamb, the record of his hours +of work, day by day, for the last year or so—<i>seventy +hours per week</i>, as regular as clockwork! He was, +then and afterwards, always an amazing worker—his +room even in those youthful days pigeon-holed +all over with notes and documents. He was also +a man with a high sense of chivalry and honour, +and I have no doubt that the <i>contretemps</i> which +threw him for a time out of public life—and which +his chivalry forbade him to explain—weighed pretty +heavily on him. His love of facts and statistics, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>so conspicuous throughout his political life, was +shared by his brother Assheton; and it used to +be said that the two brothers never enjoyed themselves +more thoroughly than when sitting knee to +knee they spent an hour or so in ‘imparting facts +to each other’!</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another politician of my time, though a little +younger than myself, was Augustine Birrell. Even +in those days he was chiefly known for his quaint +humours and jokes—though the term ‘birrelling’ had +not then been adopted. But being, as an undergraduate, +somewhat interested in politics and not +at all interested in rowing, he did not bulk largely +in the eyes of his contemporaries, and I fear was +a little neglected. In a late letter to me he chaffs me +in his own native style on my academic and clerical +past, saying “I have the most vivid recollection of +you as Junior Tutor. The marvellous neatness of +your now discarded <i>white tie</i> lives especially in my +untidy mind!”</p> + +<p class='c006'>Socialism and Millthorpe, I need hardly say, swept +me out of these academic and semi-political surroundings +into a different world—the world of a new +society which was arising and forming within the +structure of the old. William Morris represented +this new society more effectively and vitally than +any one else of that period; because away and +beyond the scientific forecast he gave expression to +the emotional presentment and ideal of a sensible +free human brotherhood—as in <cite>John Ball</cite>, or <cite>News +from Nowhere</cite>. His sturdy, brusque, sea-captain-like +figure, with his fine-outlined face and tossing +hair, his forcible unpolished speech, yet all so direct, +sincere, enthusiastic—brought inspiration and confidence +wherever he went; and for a time, as I have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>already said, there was a widespread belief that the +Socialist League was going to knit up all the United +Kingdom in one bond of new life.<a id='r23'></a><a href='#f23' class='c012'><sup>[23]</sup></a> Having set the +“Sheffield Socialists” going in ’86, he came one +day not long after to speak at Chesterfield, and +stayed at Millthorpe a night or two. I remember +his arriving from the train with Jefferies’ book <cite>After +London</cite> in his hands—which had just come out. The +book delighted him with its prophecy of an utterly +ruined and deserted London, gone down in swamps +and malaria, with brambles and weeds spreading +through slum streets and fashionable squares, and +pet dogs reverting to wolfish and carrion-hunting +lives. And he read page after page of it to us +with glee that evening as we sat round the fire. +He hated modern civilization, and London as its +representative, with a fierce hatred—its shams, its +hypocrisies, its stuffy indoor life, its cheapjack style, +its mean and mongrel ideals; with a hatred indeed +which, I cannot but think, thousands and hundreds +of thousands following him will one day share. +Once he said to me, talking about his own life: +“I have spent, I know, a vast amount of time +designing furniture and wall-papers, carpets and +curtains; but after all I am inclined to think that +sort of thing is mostly rubbish, and I would prefer +for my part to live with the plainest whitewashed +walls and wooden chairs and tables.” He certainly +was no drawing-room sort of man. His immense +energy did not run to small talk. As a rule in +conversation, seized by his subject, and oblivious of +the arguments of others, he would jump from his +chair and stride up and down the room in ardent +monologue—condemning the present or picturing the +future or the past. I once asked his daughter, May, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>what he did in the way of recreation. “My father +never takes any recreation,” she said, “he <i>merely +changes his work</i>.” And so it was. When he had +been toiling at Merton Abbey all day, and preaching +Socialism at a street corner all the evening, then +at night—sick of the ugly life around him—he would +come home and dream himself away into the fourteenth +century, and for his recreation produce a +masterpiece like <cite>John Ball</cite>. Be it said, nevertheless, +that he did sometimes relax, and that when in the +humour, no one enjoyed a pipe and a glass and the +jovial company of friends and the telling of good +stories, more than William Morris.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He certainly did not like anything resembling +sentimentality. A friend tells me that he used to +recite the following stanza, apparently delighting in +its quaintness—but whether Morris composed it himself +or had found it elsewhere he does not know:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>I sits with my feet in a brook,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And if any one asks me for why,</div> + <div class='line'>I hits him a crack with my crock,</div> + <div class='line in2'>For it’s sentiment kills me, says I.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Among those who came from time to time to speak +for our Socialist group in Sheffield or to stay at +our “Commonwealth” Café were, besides William +Morris, two notable personalities—Peter Kropotkin +and Annie Besant. Their work and influence, both +world-wide—the one in the Anarchist, and the other +in the Theosophist, field—have been really important. +Though never myself strictly identified with either +of these movements I have been in touch with them, +and consequently in more or less friendly relation +with their two leading spirits during a long period—now +nearly thirty years. Both characters are +certainly remarkable for their vigour, their sincerity, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>their ability and devotion. Kropotkin at the age +of seventy and after fifty years of passionate conflict +with ‘government’ and ‘authority’ still retains +his sunny and almost childlike temperament and +still believes in the speedy oncoming of an age of +perfectly voluntary and harmonious co-operation in +the human race. Indeed it is mainly due to him +that this magnificent dream has spread so far and +wide over the world, and has done so much as it +has towards its own realization. The dramatic +circumstances too of Kropotkin’s own life have greatly +helped—his early escapes from prison and from +death, his abandonment of a princely inheritance to +become the companion and fellow-prisoner of +criminals and outcasts, his later life spent in poverty +and among obscure circles of enthusiasts—these things +combined with encyclopædic knowledge and a high +scientific reputation have compelled attention and +respect. As in the case of many ardent social +reformers, and certainly in the case of most notorious +Anarchists, there is a charming naïveté about Kropotkin. +It is so easy—if you believe that all human +evil is summed up in the one fatal word ‘government’ +(or it may be that the word is ‘white-slave-traffic,’ +or ‘war,’ or ‘drink,’ or anything else)—to +order your life and your theories accordingly. +Everything is explained by its relation to one thing. +It is easy, but it is misleading. And Kropotkin’s +writings, despite their erudition, suffer from this +naïveté. Whether it be History (his <cite>French Revolution</cite>), +or Natural History (his <cite>Mutual Aid</cite>) or +economic theory (his <cite>Paroles d’un Revolté</cite>) the +reader finds one solution for everything, and the +countervailing facts and principles consistently—though +certainly not intentionally—ignored. This +detracts from the value of the writings; though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>in justice it should be said that the principles on +which Kropotkin so vigorously insists—i.e. individual +liberty and free association—<i>are</i> of foundational importance. +In a country like Russia—obsessed by +authority and officialism—it is not unnatural that its +reformers, such as Tolstoy and Kropotkin, should +be almost over-conscious of the governmental evil; +and this fact rather encourages the hope that Russia +may one day after all be the leader in the great +European reaction towards a freer and more +voluntary state of society.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The naïveté of the social reformer explains too +the common fact that the Anarchist who is in theory +“thirsting for the blood of kings” and occasionally +perhaps capable of perpetrating a deed of violence +himself, is generally (like Kropotkin) the gentlest +and mildest of men, who “would not hurt a fly.” +It is only such men—having the love of humanity +in their hearts—who are able to believe in the speedy +realization of an era of universal goodwill; and +again it is only such men—being innocent enough +to believe that the only impediment to the realization +of this era is a certain wicked person in +‘authority’—who can spur themselves on to the +bloody dispatch of such person.</p> + +<p class='c011'>If the career of Kropotkin has been romantically +varied in one way, that of Mrs. Besant has been +equally so in another. To begin as a curate’s wife, +with a vivid strain of religious devotion; to break +away into Broad Churchism and then into boundless +disbelief; to become an ardent Secularist, companion +of Bradlaugh and propagandist of antipopulation +doctrines; to suffer imprisonment, +persecution, and embitterment of spirit; to espouse +the cause of Socialism and do battle in the ranks +of Labour; to float into the haven of Theosophy and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>be made the mouthpiece of invisible Mahatmas and +of the by no means invisible Mme. Blavatsky; +and finally to complete this quaint circle by becoming +the high-priestess of a religious movement and the +guardian of the herald of the coming Christ—such +a career ought to satisfy the most picturesque ambition. +Yet it would be unfair to doubt Annie Besant’s +sincerity. Having known her so long as I have +I feel sure that she has been urged onward from +point to point by a perfectly genuine mental evolution, +largely directed no doubt at each turn of the +road by some dominant mind whom she has met, +and largely coloured by that naïveté of which we +have already spoken—a naïveté indeed which has +made it possible for her to take herself very seriously +and to fulfil her adopted rôle always with a strong +sense of duty and a comparatively weak perception +of the humour of the situation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>From the hour when, alone in the pulpit of her +husband’s church, Annie Besant discovered her own +great oratorical gift, her future career, one may say, +was decided. With an excellent capacity for logical +and clear statement she became the exponent in +succession of large and important blocks of modern +thought. She helped to batter down the ruins and +remains of the stupefied old Anglican Church; she +gave the general mind a wholesome shock on the +Malthusian question; she dotted out clearly the main +lines of the Socialist movement; she formed a new +channel for religious thought by making the words +‘Karma’ and ‘re-incarnation’ familiar; and she +sought to bring the Western public into touch with +the great age-long ideas and inspirations of the old +Indian sages. In all these ways she has done +splendid work, and helped vastly in the construction +of that great twentieth century bridge which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>will in its due time lead us into another world. Only +in the last item—her touch upon the ideas and +inspirations of the ancient East—does she seem to +me, curiously enough, to have failed. With all her +enthusiasm for the subject, Mrs. Besant does not +appear to have the intuitive perception, the mystic +quality of mind, which should enable her to reach +the very heart of the old Vedantic teaching. Her +intellect, clear and systematic in its structure, has +little of the poetic or original or inspirational in +its composition, and it may be doubted whether it +has ever quite fathomed the religious writings with +which it has been so much occupied. Anyhow Mrs. +Besant’s own writings on these subjects are—unlike +her general lectures—dull to a degree. She analyses +the composition of the human personality, or the +order of general creation, or the various life-rounds +of our mortal race; but in all she seems to be +repeating or corroborating some pre-established formula, +never to be describing something which she has +herself perceived; system and formula prevail, unseen +‘authorities’ are hinted at, the pages bristle with +sanskrit jargon, but no living or creative <i>idea</i> moves +among them, and the reader rises from their perusal +void of inspiration or of any really vital impulse +towards new fields of thought and life. Nevertheless, +taking it all in all, and especially in her expositions +of Socialism and Theosophy, Mrs. Besant has +done, as I have said, a great work; and one cannot +sufficiently admire the courage with which she has +carried it through, as well as her kindliness and helpfulness +towards others, and—in later years—her own +inner mental calm, contrasting with the somewhat +restless bitterness of an earlier time.</p> + +<p class='c006'>In 1884 or so the founding of the <cite>New Fellowship</cite> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>in London (from which afterwards the Fabian Society +sprang) brought me into touch with Havelock Ellis +and Olive Schreiner. As I think I have already said, +Ellis discovered in the proverbial penny box of a +second-hand publisher, and soon after its publication, +the little first edition of my <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>; +and rescuing it wrote to me. Thus began my +friendship with him, and afterwards with the authoress +of <cite>The Story of An African Farm</cite>. A prophet is +seldom acclaimed in his own country; and the work +which Ellis has done in that most important field +of Sexual Psychology is even yet by no means recognized +in England as it ought to be—even though +the subject is becoming extremely ‘actual’ here in +the present day, and though elsewhere over the world +his pioneer work is most honorably received and +respected. The six massive volumes of his <cite>Studies +in the Psychology of Sex</cite> form a masterpiece of +large-minded and yet extremely detailed observation +and generalization, and provide a survey of the +most impartial character over this vast realm, and +such as can be obtained nowhere else. For though +the Germans have written extensively in this field +their books—<i>more Teutonico</i>—are generally overladen +with detail, huge jungles through which it is +difficult to find one’s way. Ellis combines with the +Englishman’s perspicacity and love of order a remarkable +erudition and command of particulars. +And at the present juncture when the world is waking +up to the absolute necessity of a reasonable understanding +and frank recognition of sex-things, the +appearance of his book may almost be characterized +as ‘providential.’ This quality may indeed be suspected +in the fact that the author began making +notes for his <i>magnum opus</i> at a very early age, +driven thereto by some sort of instinct, nor finished +<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>his work till he was about fifty. I know of few +things in literature more touching than the postscript +to his last volume—the <cite>Nunc Dimittis</cite> after some +thirty years of toil: “It was perhaps fortunate for +my peace that I failed at the outset to foresee all +the perils that beset my path. I knew indeed that +those who investigate sincerely and intimately any +subject which men are accustomed to pass by on the +other side lay themselves open to misunderstanding +and even obloquy. But I supposed that a secluded +student who approached vital social problems with +precaution, making no direct appeal to the general +public, but only to the public’s teachers, and who +wrapped up the results of his inquiries in technically +written volumes open to few—I supposed that such +a student was at all events secure from any gross +form of attack on the part of the police or the +government under whose protection he imagined that +he lived. That proved to be a mistake. When only +one volume of these <cite>Studies</cite> had been written and +published in England, a prosecution instigated by +the Government put an end to the sale of that volume +in England, and led me to resolve that the subsequent +volumes should not be published in my own country.<a id='r24'></a><a href='#f24' class='c012'><sup>[24]</sup></a> +I do not complain. I am grateful for the early and +generous sympathy with which my work was received +in Germany and the United States, and I recognize +that it has had a wider circulation, both in English +and the other chief languages of the world, than +would have been possible by the modest method +of issue which the government of my own country +induced me to abandon. Nor has the effort to crush +my work resulted in any change in that work by +so much as a single word. With help, or without it, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>I have followed my own path to the end.... He +who follows in the steps of Nature after a law that +was not made by man, and is above and beyond +man, has time as well as eternity on his side, and +can afford to be both patient and fearless. Men +die, but the ideas they seek to kill <i>live</i>. Our books +may be thrown to the flames, but in the next generation +those flames become human souls.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>The personality of Havelock Ellis is that of +a student, thoughtful, preoccupied, bookish, deliberate; +yet unlike most students he has a sort +of grand air of Nature about him—a fine free head +and figure as of some great god Pan, with distant +relations among the Satyrs.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Those early meetings of the New Fellowship were +full of hopeful enthusiasms—life simplified, a humane +diet and a rational dress, manual labour, democratic +ideals, communal institutions. Indeed one or two +little practical efforts towards colony groups were +at that time made.<a id='r25'></a><a href='#f25' class='c012'><sup>[25]</sup></a> Herbert Rix, W. J. Jupp, +Percival Chubb, Edith Lees (afterwards Mrs. Ellis), +Mrs. Hinton, widow of James Hinton, Caroline Haddon, +Ernest Rhys were among the early members.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Edith Lees was one of the most active and vigorous +of this group. She helped to organize and to carry +on for some time a joint dwelling or co-operative +boarding-house near Mecklenburgh Square, where +eight or ten members of the Fellowship dwelt in +a kind of communistic Utopia. Naturally the arrangement +gave rise to some rather amusing and some +almost tragic episodes, which she has recorded for +us in a little story entitled <cite>Attainment</cite>. After her +marriage she took a farm near St. Ives in Cornwall, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>which became a helpful retreat for her husband as +well as herself from the strenuousness of London +life. With her extraordinary energy and directness +she plunged into and soon mastered all the details +of cattle and pig breeding and farming; and I +shall never forget the impression she produced on +one occasion when staying with me at Millthorpe, +when we took her round to the public-house in the +evening. The delight and amazement of the farm +men at finding some one more or less resembling a +lady who really understood and would talk freely +about such things, and her at-home-ness among that +company were most refreshing. They were fascinated +by the directness of her intense blue eyes, her +sturdy figure, her vigorous gestures, and the evident +equality of her comradeship with them. And to this +day they not unfrequently ask us, “When is that little +lady coming again, with that curly hair, like a lad’s, +and them blue eyes, what talked about pigs and +cows? I shall never forget her.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Edith Ellis not only became a help to her husband +in his literary work, but herself spoke and wrote on +subjects of Eugenics and Sex-psychology. Of late +years she has made a considerable study of James +Hinton, and has done me the honour to associate +my name with his and with Nietzsche’s in a little +book entitled <cite>Three Modern Seers</cite>.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One evening as we sat round a table (in Rix’s +rooms at Burlington House) I saw a charming girl-face, +of <i>riant</i> Italian type, smiling across to me. It +was Olive Schreiner. She had arrived from South +Africa only a few months before, had published +her <cite>African Farm</cite>, and though only twenty-one or +twenty-two years of age was already famous as its +authoress. Juvenile in some ways as that book was, +somewhat incoherent and disjointed in structure, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>written by a mere girl of eighteen or nineteen, and +with a title which gave no idea of its real content, +yet its intensity was such that it seized almost at +once on the public mind. The African sun was +in its veins—fire and sweetness, intense love of beauty, +fierce rebellion against the things that be, passion and +pity and the pride of Lucifer combined. These things +too Olive Schreiner’s face and figure revealed—a +wonderful beauty and vivacity, a lightning-quick +mind, fine eyes, a resolute yet mobile mouth, a +determined little square-set body. It was right—since +alliances are so often knit by contrast—that +she and Havelock Ellis should have become friends +and maintained a close correspondence with each +other for over thirty years; and it was a privilege +to me to share in the friendship of them both.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Naturally, with such gifts of body and mind the +arrival of the authoress of the <cite>African Farm</cite> excited +almost a <i>furore</i> of interest. Quite a procession of +the young literary men of the day arrived in hansom-cabs +at the door of her Bloomsbury lodgings to pay +their homage to the new genius, and Olive herself +often told me with considerable amusement of the +dismay and severe disapproval of more than one of +her landladies, who certainly were not inclined to +believe that mere literary talent could cause so much +attraction! Anyhow, at that time of day, before the +suffragette had arrived, and when ‘ladies’ took the +greatest care to bridle in their chins and speak in +mincing accents, a young and pretty woman of apparently +lady-like origin who did not wear a veil and +seldom wore gloves, and who talked and laughed +even in the streets quite naturally and unaffectedly, +was an unclassifiable phenomenon, and laid herself +open to the gravest suspicions! We may congratulate +ourselves that the pioneer women of to-day have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>made a return to some of these inhumanities of the +Victorian era impossible.</p> + +<p class='c011'>During that Bloomsbury period and afterwards +I saw Olive Schreiner fairly frequently—that is, +when she was in England (or Europe). I saw her +in Paris early in ’87, and at Todmorden and Whitby +later in the same year; also at Alassio where she +stayed for two or three months in ’88. Those two +years ’87 and ’88 were a period of considerable +suffering for her. In 1893 she was in England again, +and spent three months during the summer in a little +cottage in my valley. After ’93, what with her +marriage to S. C. Cronwright, and what with the +outbreak of the Boer War and all the tragedies +attendant upon that, she did not come to England for +a long period, and it was on the last day of 1913 +that I saw her again, after a twenty years’ absence.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Her father was a German Free Church Missionary—of +the most tender self-forgetful type—the original +doubtless of the German overseer in <cite>The African +Farm</cite>. Olive herself has often told me how he +would give away his last coin to any one he deemed +to be in need. His wife would say to him:—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“John, where is that best Sunday coat of yours?” +And he would say:—</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Is it not upstairs in the chest, as usual?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“No, John, I have been looking for it everywhere.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“How very strange” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Now, John, I believe you have given it away!”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“No, surely, my dear, I could not have given +<i>that</i> away—at least I think not.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“John! now tell me true, did you not give it to +that <i>tramp</i> that came yesterday?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Well, my dear, now you mention it I think I <i>may</i> +have done so; it is just possible you are right, but +I am sure I hardly remember.”</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>“Oh John! John! you are indeed incorrigible.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>That was the picture of the father—soft, pitiful +and dreamy. The mother, Rebecca Lyndall by her +maiden name, was of English descent, keen, intellectual, +fine featured and somewhat self-willed. The +two types were combined in their daughter; and +she again in writing her novel divided them up. +‘Waldo’ represented one side of her own character, +‘Lyndall’ the other.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Perhaps there was a tragic element in the combination +of two such different hereditary strains in +the one person; perhaps there were other causes. +Certain it is that beneath the mobile and almost +merry-seeming exterior of Olive Schreiner there ran +a vein of intense determination, and that this again +was crossed and countered by an ineradicable pessimism. +<cite>The Story of an African Farm</cite>, despite +its magical and beautiful pictures, is painful to +read; and the same may be said of her other books. +They realize and force the reader to realize almost +<i>too</i> keenly the pain and evil of the world—too keenly +I mean for truth and fact. Yet what is fact but +what we feel; and if Olive Schreiner <i>feels</i> things +so, so far her presentment is true. I have seen her +shake her little fist at the Lord in heaven, and curse +him down from his throne, with a vibrating force +and intensity which surely must have been felt (and +surely also with healthy result) in the Highest Circles.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A lady who had spent forty years of her life +working in the Mission Schools of South Africa +once said to me—and this was quite in her old age, +when she was nearing eighty—“Ah!” she said, +“the Kaffirs are the finest people on earth. You +English think a lot about yourselves, but I tell +you, you are not to be compared with the Kaffirs.” +Olive Schreiner was born in Basuto Land. She +<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>grew up and spent her early life among the natives, +and in many ways her verdict was the same as that +just quoted. She loved the dark folk and their land, +and she has never ceased to love them. It has been +one of the tragedies of her life that she has been +compelled to stand by and witness the crushing of +this free and fine-souled people beneath the sordid +heel of Western Commercialism—or let us say “the +attempted crushing,” for indeed (thank heaven!) +the process is not yet complete. It has been her +agony to see them at every moment cajoled and +betrayed of their lands, broken with labour in the +mines, deceived with drink, and mowed down with +machine-guns—and all this by the very Christian +race that ought to have lent them a helping hand; +and to have been able to do so little (as it would +seem to her) for their salvation. But even though +it would seem little, the fact that one woman in South +Africa has thus prophet-like stood up and (much of +the time) singly opposed Rhodes and the shoddy +Imperialism of which he was the mouthpiece, <i>has</i> +had an influence deep and wide reaching and such +as will be felt far down the years.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another thing that has formed almost a tragedy +in Olive Schreiner’s life has been her dedication to +the Cause of Women. No one can read her <cite>Three +Dreams in a Desert</cite> or her <cite>Woman and Labour</cite> +without feeling how in the consciousness of the sufferings +of Woman the iron has entered into her soul. +If she had only been content—like some of the wilder +spirits of the movement—to unload on <i>men</i> the vials +of her wrath, and to saddle on <i>man</i>kind alone the +responsibility for these sufferings, her strain in the +cause would have had more of the delight of battle +in it. But she was too large-minded not to see that +if there is to be any blame in such a matter, the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>blame must be accepted by Woman herself just as +much as by Man. The two sexes are joined together, +and if Man has been unworthy has it not been because +Woman his mother has made him so? If Woman has +played the parasite has that not resulted in her injuring +Man? Olive Schreiner’s perception of the +slow inevitable strain and suffering inseparable from +Evolution itself in this matter of the emancipation +of women, has had a complexion of tragedy in it. +She has seen her dearest friends, like Constance +Lytton and others, crippled and broken for life by +their heroic struggles and undaunted resolution in +face of prison-horrors; and yet she has felt that +the evil lay deeper than any accusation against men +(taken by itself) could explain, or any mere reform +of the suffrage could mend.</p> + +<p class='c006'>It is curious how South Africa, to those who know +the country well, carries with it a fascination and an +attraction which time and again draws them back +to its soil. A friend of mine who lived for some +years around Lake Nyassa told me that after his +return to England he frequently dreamt at night +of all that wild region and its primitive animal life. +On more than one occasion he dreamed that he was +wrecked at sea, and swam desperately to the African +coast, if only he might die as it were in the arms of +his beloved; or he would make an imaginary pilgrimage +from London to the very shores of the +Lake, and there in a kind of ecstasy would take +the water up in his palms and wash it over his +face and head—only to wake up and find his features +wet with his own tears.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This was Henry B. Cotterill—a schoolfellow of +mine at the Brighton College—where indeed his +father was headmaster. About the time (1875 or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>so) when I was lecturing Astronomy at Leeds, +Livingstone’s book came out exposing the horrors +of the black slave traffic around Lakes Tanganyika +and Nyassa—a region at that time entirely, except +by Livingstone himself, unexplored by white men. +The book bit deeply into Cotterill’s heart and soul. +It said that the only cure for the Mahomedan or +Arabian trade in slaves would be the introduction +of a trade by white men in the legitimate articles +of commerce; and from that moment Cotterill could +not rest, goaded on by the thought that <i>he</i> must +undertake this work. At the time he was acting as +an assistant master at Harrow School. He started +lecturing there and at other places round the country +on the subject. He collected a fund; the Harrow +boys and masters gave him a steel launch or cutter +which could be taken up country in sections and +screwed together; he came to Leeds and spoke +there, as well as at places like Edinburgh, Manchester, +Liverpool; the fund grew; and I remember +going with him to some African warehouse in London +City, where he bought bales of cotton cloth, and +hundredweights of beads, and quantities of scarlet +shell-jackets (especially coveted by African chieftains +as their sole garment) for purposes of barter +up country. Thus off his own bat, as it were, he +got up this strange mission, and leaving Harrow +and pedagogy behind, embarked on a career of considerable +adventure and danger. The mission succeeded, +ordinary traders followed in his footsteps, and +within a few years the slave-trade engineered by +Moors and Arabs died out in the land. It was +followed, it is true, by the almost equal horrors of +that commercial civilization which has since been +introduced by Europeans; but I suppose one must +be thankful in the slow and age-long evolution of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>human affairs for even one small step towards better +things.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At a later time Cotterill returned to England, +but unable, like many another traveler and lover +of the wild, to endure the smug Philistinism of +British life, he ultimately settled on the Continent—or +rather led a somewhat roving life there, chiefly +in France, Germany and Italy—supporting himself +and a small family by the not too lucrative pursuits +of literature and the teaching of languages. He has +written and edited many books, to which his encyclopædic +knowledge and command of six or seven languages +have contributed; but undoubtedly his great +and monumental work has been the translation of +the Odyssey of Homer complete into English hexameters.<a id='r26'></a><a href='#f26' class='c012'><sup>[26]</sup></a> +Daring is the man who ventures on that +exceedingly boggy ground of the English hexameter, +and many are those who have gone under and been +gulfed in the attempt. By lightness and speed of +movement only can one keep going; but in those +qualities—so characteristic of the Greek—this translation +is supremely successful; its verbal fidelity +is amazing; its presentation of the old warrior and +tribal life (made possible as he himself says by his +intimate knowledge of African customs) is such as +no armchair scholar could attain to; and the result +is a gift to the whole English-speaking world—a +rendering of the immortal classic that one may read +with unflagging joy and zest from cover to cover.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XIII<br> PERSONALITIES—II</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>The part that Olive Schreiner played in trying to +avert the Boer War, and to expose the scoundrelly +commercial machinations which led to it, is well +known. Curiously enough, while England was being +worked up by a lying Press into a fury of indignation +against President Krüger I knew already early in +1899 about the real state of affairs and the plot of the +financiers to force on a reckless and selfish war—not +only from Olive Schreiner herself but from a man who +came at that time to Millthorpe from Johannesburg.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This was Lisle March-Phillipps—who afterwards +wrote <cite>With Rimington</cite> and other books about the +war. He was a young man of about thirty, who +after an upper-class education on the usual lines +had had the good sense to go abroad and see a +little of the world for himself; had drifted out to +South Africa, and had actually worked in the mines +and shared the life of the miners. Disgusted with +what he saw of the Beit and Joel and Rhodes and +Barney Barnato gang—their meanness to their employees, +their slanders against Krüger, their nonsense +lies about British “women and children,” and +foreseeing the inevitable conflict, he hurried home—thinking +doubtless also that he might do something +to make the actual truth known in England. For +some reason, not very clear to me as we had had +no previous communication, he came straight to Millthorpe, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>and walking in one afternoon sat a long time +telling me all about the affair. I saw at once that +his errand was authentic and that he knew what he +was talking about, and from that time did my best +in my small way, at public meetings and lectures, +to get the matter seen in its true light, and to check +the rising war-tide. All of no use of course. The +gulled sentimental sloppy British public poured itself +out in a torrent of rubbish—as a broken reservoir +might pour through the slums and alleys of a manufacturing +town; and it was hopeless even to protest. +It is one of the saddest things to find how easily +the great majority of a nation may be caught and +swept away by some trumped-up catchword, often +of the most flimsy character. I wrote a warning +leaflet entitled <cite>Boer and Briton</cite> and circulated some +twenty thousand copies of it. I spoke with L. H. +Courtney (now Lord Courtney) and others at a public +meeting at Bradford, and at various other meetings. +Mr. W. T. Stead did his best to warn the nation as +to what was happening; Cronwright-Schreiner came +over from the Cape, and later H. W. Nevinson also, +in a crusade through England and Scotland. To +no purpose: they only got mobbed and insulted for +their pains. Finally March-Phillipps, anxious to see +at close quarters all that was going on and unable +to get a billet as war-correspondent, went out again +and joined Rimington’s Scouts; and after the war +was over—returning to Millthorpe and taking a +cottage there—remained near us a good part of the +summer and wrote his very graphic and interesting +account of the campaign as witnessed and taken +part in by him.<a id='r27'></a><a href='#f27' class='c012'><sup>[27]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>It was at an early period of the Socialist movement—in +1884 I think—that I first came across +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>Henry Salt and his gifted life-companion and wife, +and it is to their initiative that I owe the gain of +a close and long-enduring friendship. Salt and his +brother-in-law, J. L. Joynes, were two young Eton +masters who had in their time been collegers and +scholars of Eton and afterwards graduates of King’s +College, Cambridge. Carried along on the rising +tide of Socialism they both (much to their credit) +broke away from the highly respectable traditions +of these foundations. Henry George of Land Tax +fame was in the country, and Joynes actually associated +himself with George, and went with him in +1881 or ’82 on a propagandist campaign to Ireland. +This might well have passed unobserved at Eton, +had it not happened that at some obscure place he +and George were both temporarily arrested and had +to spend the night under lock and key. The notoriety +this gave to Joynes was fatal to his career, +and he had to resign his mastership. Henry Salt +and his wife about the same time gave almost worse +offence. They adopted vegetarianism—a thing almost +unheard of at Eton except in the dubious connection +of Shelley; they revolted in their personal habits +from the luxury and indulgence of the life there; +and they protested against the coursing of hares, +and other inhumanities favored by both boys and +masters. It soon became clear to them that they +could not remain in surroundings so uncongenial, +and that they too would have to sacrifice a professional +career and comparative affluence for the greater +blessings of liberty and a simple living; and it was +at the time when they were revolving their schemes +of liberation and of migration into other spheres of +life that I came—through Jim Joynes—to know them.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Joynes and his sister were singularly unlike externally, +yet singularly alike in the depths of their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>hearts and in their devotion to each other. Both +were tall and long-limbed: she dark, raven-haired, +with large eyes and sensitive, somewhat sad, Dante-like +profile; he red-haired, with high complexion, +small bluish eyes, heavy features. She was intensely +emotional, too emotional, but—as such people often +are—highly musical; and her literary gift was certainly +one of the most remarkable I have known—though +unfortunately, except in her letters, rarely +utilized. He was intensely logical, concentrated, +determined—though underneath ran a strong current +of poetic feeling—as witness his little book of +excellent verses <cite>On Lonely Shores</cite> (1892). Both +of them did good work in connection with the +Socialist and Labour movement, he more especially +by lecturing and writing for the Social Democratic +Federation and other such organizations; and she +rather more by personal sympathy and helpful friendship +towards the rank and file of the workers; both +of them were devoted lovers of Nature, and of a +natural plain way of life; and their devotion to each +other only ended with his too early death in 1893.</p> + +<p class='c011'>These two and Henry Salt were among the +pioneers in the early eighties of the great Socialist +and Humanitarian and Nature movements which are +destined to play such an important part in the new +Democracy. Henry Salt’s work in founding the +Humanitarian League (in 1891) and presiding over +its very various activities has been so really extensive +and far-reaching that it is difficult to estimate—the +more so because unlike so many leaders of +movements he has always kept his own name consistently +in the background. As a matter of fact +he has not only been the main originator of the +important work done, but has been the guiding hand +and inspirer of the many committees which have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>had to be formed in order to deal with the various +subjects—with Vivisection, Blood Sports, ‘Murderous +Millinery,’ Reform of the Prisons, the Game +Laws, Slaughter-house Reform, Corporal Punishment, +Diet Reform, Rights of Native Races, and so forth. +Besides this the long list of his publications—on +Shelley, on James Thomson (B.V.), on H. D. +Thoreau, Richard Jefferies, Lucretius, etc., shows +the trend of his mind and his liberating influence +in the matters of religion and social freedom and a +large-minded Nature-study.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At one time he and I composed jointly “A +Church Service for the use of the Respectable +Classes”—which I am afraid however has never +yet been properly published. It consisted of a +Preface, in the manner of our Prayer-book Preface +of 1661, of a sort of Athanasian Creed (on the +Trinity of Land, Capital and Interest) called the +creed of St. Avaritius, of a Litany (on the lines of +salvation through dividends and social advancement), +and a final Processional Hymn. Of this last, as it +has already been printed among some of Salt’s verses, +the two first stanzas may here be given:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>Respectables are we</div> + <div class='line in2'>And you presently will see</div> + <div class='line'>Why we confidently claim to be respected:</div> + <div class='line in2'>In well-ordered homes we dwell</div> + <div class='line in2'>And discharge our duties well—</div> + <div class='line'>Well dressed, well fed, well mannered, well connected.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in2'>We have heard the common cant</div> + <div class='line in2'>About poverty and want</div> + <div class='line'>And all that is distressing and unhealthy;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Some cases may be sad,</div> + <div class='line in2'>But the system can’t be bad</div> + <div class='line'>Which affords such satisfaction to the Wealthy.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>And so on.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>On one occasion a boy brought to Mrs. Salt a +young rook which had been hurt (so he said) by +falling out of its nest, and as she and her husband +had been staying with us, the bird became for some +time an inmate of our establishment. But though +it became familiar, as was natural, with us, and +would fly in and out of the door or window, and +perch on hand or head quite freely, its devotion +to Mrs. Salt was something almost uncanny. Indoors +or outdoors it <i>would</i> be with her; and if +she went into town for a few hours, or anywhere +that she could not take the bird, she had to escape +by ruse, or by simply caging the creature first. +When she sat on the lawn it would delight to play +and dance around, and to pick daisies with its beak +and place them in her lap, or bright and shining +pebbles from the gravel walk. Anything more like +an engaging human child it would be hard to imagine. +And it certainly seemed to know by some intuition +of her return after absence along the road, and if +caged would become very restless, or if free would +fly to meet her. Once after a long absence, when +she appeared once more—in the midst, as it happened, +of a small crowd of people—the bird with +a loud cry suddenly flew down from a tall tree and +alighted forthwith upon her shoulder—much to the +astonishment of the onlookers. Later, and after +some months of this kind of life, the bird one day +disappeared; nor could we ever find out what had +happened to it—whether an accident or the mere +“call of the wild” back to rook-land. It was +seen no more, alive or dead; and one human heart +at any rate felt the loss very deeply.</p> + +<p class='c006'>I have mentioned 1881 as the year in which +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite> ‘came to me,’ and insisted +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>on being given form and expression. It is curious +that the same year (or 1882) saw the inception of +a number of new movements or enterprises tending +towards the establishment of mystical ideas and a +new social order. Mother Shipton’s prophecy with +its strange prognostication of mechanically propelled +cars and flying machines ended up with the +words:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And the world to an end shall come</div> + <div class='line'>In eighteen hundred and eighty-one.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The world did not come to an end, but in a certain +sense a new one began; and just in those two years +quite a number of societies were started with objects +of the kind indicated. Hyndman’s Democratic +Federation, Edmund Gurney’s Society for Psychical +Research, Mme. Blavatsky’s Theosophical Society, +the Vegetarian Society, the Anti-vivisection movement, +and many other associations of the same kind +marked the coming of a great reaction from the +smug commercialism and materialism of the mid-Victorian +epoch, and a preparation for the new +universe of the twentieth century. Amongst these +was one which especially claimed to fulfil the prophecies +of Mother Shipton and to be the herald of +a New Age. This was the Hermetic Society. It +consisted practically of two people—Edward Maitland +and Anna Kingsford; for though there was +a nominal membership I think it may be said that the +other members had little or no voice in it. And its +idea was to read into the stories of Jesus, and of +Moses and Abraham and so forth, their inner significations, +to interpret in fact much of the New +and Old Testaments not as historical matter but +rather as eternal truths, allegories and emblems of +the drama of each human soul. Thus the miraculous +<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>birth of Jesus, his exile in Egypt, his temptation in +the wilderness, his toils and sufferings, his Betrayal, +Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension were not external +histories of a certain man, but inner histories +of you and me and all mankind.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This method of interpreting the myths of past +days, which we now in the twentieth century so +well understand, and which explains for us the origin +of a vast number of legends and at the same time +accounts for their popularity, was in 1881—except +for some few previous hints by Swedenborg and +others—quite unrecognized. And we owe much to +Edward Maitland and Anna Kingsford that they +gave it, as well as some valuable collateral matter, +to the world. Of course they did not fully recognize—though +they did in part—how much of the +story of Jesus, for instance, <i>is</i> purely legendary and +mythical. But even if they had known it to be +entirely legendary, that would not probably have +greatly altered their views—though it would certainly +have deprived their gospel of the supernatural +halo with which they delighted to invest it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It was this affectation, if I may use the term, +of a supernatural mission which rather spoilt the +work of these two well-meaning people—as it has +spoiled alas! the work of so many ‘prophets’ and +teachers in the past. To the egotism of the human +being there is no end; and if such an one can only +persuade others that he has some supernatural source +of knowledge and power, or persuade himself (or +herself) of the same, there is no limit to the devilry +or folly into which he will plunge—as witness the +history of the priesthood all down the centuries. +In the case of Anna Kingsford and Edward Maitland +it was not devilry which was the trouble, but +the other thing! Having reached a certain insight +<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>or intuition, or whatever you may call it, into the +inner meanings of life, they both became so inflated +with heavenly conceit over their discovery that they +really grew quite foolish and intolerable. As it +happened I had known Maitland since I was a boy. +When I was eighteen or twenty years of age he +a grown man, and known in the literary world as +the author of <cite>The Pilgrim and the Shrine</cite>, used +sometimes to come to my father’s house at Brighton. +He was an interesting talker, well up in literature +and science, and always keen on some new idea or +discovery; but even then somewhat egotistically +absorbed in his own thoughts and conversation. +When he met the lady, however, who became his +great life-inspiration, it must be said that he submerged +all his own claims to prophetic gifts in a +whole-hearted recognition of hers. He laid his soul +at her feet.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Anna Kingsford was certainly a remarkable +woman. As a young girl she had had strange +visions. When Maitland met her (she being twenty-seven) +she must from all descriptions have been +singularly beautiful. He describes her as “tall, +slender and graceful in form; fair and exquisite +in complexion; bright and sunny in expression. The +hair long and golden, but the brows and lashes +dark, and the eyes deep-set and hazel, and by turns +dreamy and penetrating. The mouth rich, full, and +exquisitely formed.” While Mrs. Fenwick Miller +says: “I thought her the most faultlessly beautiful +woman I ever beheld; her hair is like the sunlight, +her features are exquisite, and her complexion—I can +use no other term than faultless—not a spot, not a +flaw, not a shade.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Add to these natural gifts a good medical training +in the Schools of Paris, a fair knowledge of Greek +<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>and Latin, considerable literary ability and a generous +and undisguised use of cosmetics, and you have a +strange but powerful combination. Edward Maitland +met her in 1874 (he was then fifty and she +twenty-eight), and practically thenceforward dedicated +his life to her. (It must however be remembered +that the intimacy caused no estrangement from +Mr. Kingsford, the husband, who remained a close +friend to them both.) The reinforcement of Anna +Kingsford’s intuitive and prophetic gift by Maitland’s +incisive and logical mentality certainly had a valuable +result, and their combined work left a notable +mark on the time. Jointly from 1881 (to 1888 +when Anna Kingsford died) they carried on a +strong Crusade against Vivisection—one of the +earliest protests made; and they published besides +a series of works—<cite>The Perfect Way</cite>, <cite>Clothed with +the Sun</cite>, <cite>The Virgin of the World</cite>, etc.—bearing the +esoteric and theosophic message to which I have +already alluded. Of these <cite>The Perfect Way</cite>, which +shows both the systematic clearness of the one mind +and the inspiration of the other, is perhaps the most +important. It embodies in fairly clear outline those +ideas of Indian and Gnostic origin which were at +that time curiously descending upon the Western +world, and which no doubt quite independently began +about the same time to be spread abroad by Mme. +Blavatsky and the Theosophic Society. Portions of +this book, and large portions of <cite>Clothed with the +Sun</cite> were apparently spoken by Mrs. Kingsford under +trance conditions, and have a certain fine quality +and atmosphere about them. They seem to indicate +things actually seen in the inner world of being; +but they suffer, as such communications must do, +from the medium through which they come. Large +portions of <cite>The Perfect Way</cite> degenerate into mere +<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>drivel, and large portions of <cite>Clothed with the Sun</cite> +are offensive (as their authoress herself often personally +was) with a kind of spiritual arrogance. +It is curious that those two prophetesses Anna Kingsford +and Sophie Blavatsky—though so very different +in personal exterior—should have been so like each +other in many respects. Both undoubtedly had access +to trance-conditions and to some region of astral +intelligence or earth memory; both (as happens in +such cases) dug out for us some shining jewels of +truth, but mixed at the same time with a huge mass +of rubbish. (No words can describe the general +rot and confusion of Blavatsky’s <cite>Secret Doctrine</cite>.) +Both were emotional in their different ways to an +abnormal degree; and both were, fortunately for +themselves, associated with coadjutors of cool and +intellectual temperament—Mrs. Kingsford with Maitland, +and Blavatsky with Mrs. Besant. Both had +really great and remarkable gifts; and both, notwithstanding +their high calling, descended to strange +and unworthy subterfuges—Blavatsky to common +juggleries and Anna Kingsford to a most deliberate +and disagreeable ‘pose.’ At the Hermetic Society’s +meetings the latter would take the chair in state—after +the style of the Great Panjandrum—and if any +humble member of the audience asked a simple +question like “Do you think, Mrs. Kingsford, that +the soul survives after death?”—she would draw +herself up, close her eyes, and say “<i>I know</i>,” and +sit down again! On one celebrated occasion I remember +that at the close of the meeting, Edward +Maitland rose and referring to the epoch-making +speech of the Lady-president on “The finding of the +Christ,” pointed out that that very meeting was indeed +a world-event. For just as the <i>Kings</i> of the East +came across the <i>ford</i> of the Jordan to lay their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>treasures at the feet of the infant Saviour, so now +the treasures of Eastern thought were being brought +across the world for the birth of a new Redeemer +in the West, and by one whose name was most +appropriately and prophetically none other than +<i>Kingsford</i>!! After that we could naturally do +nothing but dissolve along our different lines—in +tears, or laughter, or through the doorways and +passages, as the case might be. We poor little +mortals must be grateful for what illuminations we +can get, however quaint or queer the mediating personalities +may be.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The years from 1881 onward were certainly a +new era for me. They not only brought me <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite>, but they marked the oncoming of a +great new tide of human life over the Western World, +and so—partly through the book itself—brought me +into touch with a number of people and movements. +It was a fascinating and enthusiastic period—preparatory, +as we now see, to even greater developments +in the twentieth century. The Socialist and +Anarchist propaganda, the Feminist and Suffragist +upheaval, the huge Trade-union growth, the Theosophic +movement, the new currents in the Theatrical, +Musical and Artistic worlds, the torrent even of +change in the Religious world—all constituted so +many streams and headwaters converging, as it were, +to a great river. To be in fairly close touch, as +time went on, with these movements and their +(English) representatives—with men and women like +John Burns, Cunninghame Graham, Mrs. Despard, +H. M. Hyndman, Bernard Shaw, Keir Hardie, the +Bruce Glasiers, Pete Curran, Ramsay Macdonald, +Walter Crane, Sydney Olivier, H. W. Nevinson, +H. G. Wells, Annie Besant, F. R. Benson, Granville +Barker, Iden Payne, Mona Limerick, Isadora Duncan, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Margaret Macmillan, Lowes Dickinson, G. P. Gooch, +G. M. Trevelyan, Roger Fry, Rutland Boughton, +Granville Bantock, Laurence Housman, William +Rothenstein, R. J. Campbell, E. W. Lewis, the Sidney +Webbs, Olive Schreiner, Isabel Margesson, Edith +Ellis, Alfred Russel Wallace, Oliver Lodge, George +Barnes of the A.S.E., C. T. Cramp of the A.S.R.S., +Stephen Reynolds of the Fisheries, Raymond Unwin +of Garden Suburbs, Cecil Reddie of Abbotsholme, +James Devon of the Prisons Commission, Edward +Westermarck, Havelock Ellis, and so forth—was indeed +an extraordinary inspiration and encouragement. +Practically all these (and I have not mentioned the +foreign friends and coadjutors) were giving their +lives to the furtherance of some tributary of the +great movement, and each of them represented +hundreds or perhaps thousands of others who were +doing the same. One felt that something massive +must surely emerge from it all.</p> + +<p class='c006'>It was no wonder that Hyndman—whose name I +have put near the beginning of this list—becoming +conscious as early as 1881 of the new forces all +around in the social world was filled with a kind +of fervour of revolutionary anticipation. We used +to chaff him because at every crisis in the industrial +situation he was confident that the Millennium was at +hand—that the S.D.F. would resolve itself into a +Committee of Public Safety, and that it would be +for him as Chairman of that body to guide the ship +of the State into the calm haven of Socialism! The +S.F.D. was constituted in the early eighties; when +1889 was impending it was obvious that that year, +as centenary of the first outbreak of the French +Revolution would be the fateful date. I remember +his telling me, not without gleeful rubbing of hands, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>that the whole Society of London Stevedores (whom +he had been addressing at the Docks) was behind +him to a man, and would come without fail to his +support. 1889 however passed, with nothing more +effectual than the Socialist Congress at Paris—at +which a great deal of dissension and difference of +opinion was manifested. Then came ’99, the last +year of the century and clearly big with destiny; +and he piled his hopes upon that. But it alas! +only gave birth to the Boer War—which put things +back for many a year. And after that 1909 and +other dates did but provide further material for disappointment. +And yet all the time the Socialist +clock was really going forward, and though there +was no sudden revolution or conversion, the nation +steadily and almost unconsciously became saturated +with the new ideas. Hyndman—though no doubt +disappointed from time to time—stuck gamely to his +‘cause’—and it was largely through his personal +exertions that the educational work begun by him +in ’81 was carried to such fruition that in 1914 +with the German War the Government and the +country suddenly adopted large sections of the +Socialist programme (without calling them Socialist +of course) as the most natural thing in the world!</p> + +<p class='c011'>That neither Hyndman in his time, nor Morris in +his, nor the Fabian Society in theirs, nor Keir Hardie, +nor Kropotkin, nor Blatchford, nor any other individual +or body, succeeded in capturing the social +movement during these years and moulding it to his +or their hearts’ desire, must always be matter for +congratulation. For once pocketed by any clique +it would have pined and dwindled into an insignificant +thing; but, as I have just tried to show, the +real movement of this period has been far too great +for such a destiny. It is like a great river, fed by +<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>currents and streams flowing into it from the most +various directions and gathering a force which no +man can now control and a volume too great to be +confined.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One regrets that Hyndman’s efforts to get into +Parliament have never been crowned with success. +Not that he would have been any use in the House +as a party-leader (Labour or Socialist). Much the +reverse; for though personally the most good-natured +man in the world he had an extraordinary +gift for falling foul of all his friends in the political +arena. But because it would have been a satisfaction—and +there would have been a certain poetical +justice in it—to see Hyndman face to face with the +bogeys of his own propaganda, the representatives +of the established order, and trouncing them to his +heart’s content. With an excellent command of +statistics and finance, a good knowledge of political +conditions and the diplomatic <i>personnel</i> over Europe, +two great causes close to his heart in the championship +of our colored subjects in India and our white +wage-slaves at home, and with a vigorous and ready +tongue, he would surely, off his own bat, have made +the House sit up, and compelled its attention to some +neglected things. Nevertheless he would never I +think under any circumstances have been a great +force in politics; for curiously enough notwithstanding +his mental vigour and energy there was a certain +want of <i>weight</i> about his personality which prevented +his influence carrying very far. On the platform, +with his waving beard and flowing frock-coat, his +high and spacious forehead and head somewhat low +and weak behind, he gave one rather the impression +of a shop whose goods are all in the front window; +and though a good and incisive speaker his frequent +gusts of invective seemed out of keeping with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>obvious natural kindliness of the man and rather +suggested the idea that he was lashing himself up +with his own tail.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The frock-coat and tall hat were always of course +<i>de rigueur</i> with him—not I imagine that they were +particularly congenial to his Socialist ideals, but +because they were a necessary part of his outfit and +‘make-up’ on the stage of the Stock Exchange; +for no doubt the Stock Exchange as the centre of +our Commercial system will cling to these old +symbols of the industrial capitalist era to the +very last.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A young friend of mine, who was at one time +clerk to Albert Grant of City fame, told me the +following story. One day while he was sitting in +Grant’s office H. M. Hyndman was announced, and +walked in, frock-coat and all. My friend left the +room while the two conferred—the well-known +Socialist with the even more well-known German +Jew and Company-promoter. Grant’s reputation was +not of the highest—or if it could be called “high” +at all it was only in the sense in which game is +sometimes so called. When the visitor was gone and +my young friend returned to the room, Grant said, +rubbing his hands “Do you know who that is? +Do you know who that is? That is Mr. Hyndman, +the great Socialist. You see, you see, with all their +talk, even <i>they</i> cannot get on without <i>me</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>I do not for a moment suppose that Hyndman’s +dealings on this occasion were anything to be +ashamed of; but Albert Grant’s transactions were +commonly thought to be of a shady character. +Perhaps to make up for that, he bought with some +of his gains the site of Leicester Square, converted +it into a public garden, and presented it to the +public. In consideration of this, and possibly other +<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>things, he was made a Baron—Baron Grant. Whereupon +some wag wrote the following distich:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Princes can Rank confer, but Honour can’t;</div> + <div class='line'>Rank without honour is a barren (Baron) grant.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>I have mentioned Walt Whitman more than once +in the foregoing pages, and I think I ought not +to let this chapter pass without referring to the +ardent little coterie at Bolton in Lancashire who +for many years celebrated his birthday with songs +and speeches and recitations, with decorations of lilac-boughs +and blossoms and the passing of loving cups +to his memory. J. W. Wallace was the president, +and Dr. Johnston, Fred. Wild, J. W. Dixon, +Charles F. Sixsmith, were some of the earlier +members of this little club, which met quite frequently +from 1885 onward for twenty years or more. +If there was a somewhat Pickwickian note about its +revels still no one could doubt the sincerity of its +enthusiasm. It helped largely to spread the study +and appreciation of Whitman’s work in the North of +England; it welcomed Dr. Bucke on his arrival from +Canada with congratulatory addresses and hymns of +its own composing; some of its members (the two +first-mentioned) crossed the Atlantic on a pilgrimage +to the good grey poet; and Dr. Johnston wrote a quite +excellent little book <cite>A Visit to Walt Whitman</cite> descriptive +of Whitman’s personality and surroundings, which +I believe is now being reissued from the Press in +conjunction with some Notes on the same subject +by Wallace. In later years I have been able to +count Dr. Johnston and Charlie Sixsmith among my +own constant friends.</p> + +<p class='c006'>I will conclude this chapter with a few brief notes +on my almost lifelong friend Arunáchalam. I feel +<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>that I owe a great debt to him because long ago, +in ’80 perhaps or ’81 he gave me a translation of +a book, then little known in England, the <cite>Bhagavat +Gita</cite>—the reading of which as I think I have said +before, curiously liberated and set in movement the +mass of material which had already formed within +me, and which was then waiting to take shape as +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. As when a ship is ready to +launch, a very little thing, the mere knocking away +of a prop, will set her going; so—though it was +something more than that—did the push of the +<cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite> act on <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>. It gave +me the needed cue, and concatenated my work to +the Eastern tradition.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I first came across Arunáchalam at a meeting of +the <i>Chitchat</i> or some such society at Cambridge, +when he was an undergraduate of Christ’s and I +a newly made Fellow of Trinity Hall. As in the +case of other Hindus his extraordinary quickness +and receptiveness of mind had very quickly rendered +him <i>au fait</i> in all our British ways and institutions. +With engagingly good and natural manners, +humorous and with some of the Tamil archness and +bedevilment about him, he was already a favorite +in his own college—and at that time these early +comers to the Universities from India were certainly +received by our students with more friendliness and +sense of equality than they are to-day. His father +having been a wealthy man and occupying a good +position in Ceylon, Arunáchalam had received a good +education and was fairly well up in Greek and Latin, +French and German, and their literatures, besides his +own Eastern languages, like Tamil and Sanskrit. +Altogether he was a very taking, all-round sort of +fellow, capable of talking on most subjects, and full +of interested inquiry about all. Many were the afternoons +<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>or evenings we spent together—walking or +boating or sitting by the fireside in College rooms—and +I learned much from him about the literature +of India and the manners and customs of the mainland +and Ceylon. When he left Cambridge he went +to London and studied Law for some years, and then +going out to Ceylon joined the Civil Service there, +and in due time became Judge, Registrar-General, +and finally Member of the Legislative Council. +In 1890 he wrote to me about the Gñani Ramaswamy +whose acquaintance he had made, and asked +me to come out and meet him; and I gladly went—for +it just chimed in with my wishes at the time; +and, as I have told in my <cite>Visit to a Gñani</cite> and +elsewhere, for six weeks or so we called on the +Guru every day and absorbed all he had to say +on the traditional esoteric philosophy of India in +general and of the Tamils in particular. After +settling in Ceylon, Arunáchalam paid from time to +time various visits to England, at one time to bring +his wife over, at another to put his sons to College, +and so on. The last occasion was in 1913 when +he received a tardy recognition of his really important +services to the Crown in the form of a knighthood.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On these occasions, whether he was conversing +with the humblest of my friends at Millthorpe or +at Sheffield, or with high officials and “great ladies” +in London his manners had always just the same +charming frankness and grace about them, which +established at once the <i>human</i> relation as the paramount +thing. And yet this man, whose artistic +culture and practical knowledge of the world was +miles above most people he met, had often to suffer +from the boorish rudeness of Anglo-Indians in his +own land, or of belated Britishers on board ship. +Alas, for the vulgarity of my countrymen!</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>I cannot leave him without one little anecdote. +Being a guest on some occasion at a Mansion House +dinner he was duly of course introduced to the various +bigwigs present, and took his seat with the rest; +but immediately caused consternation (being a vegetarian) +by refusing turtle-soup and other carnivorous +dishes in favour of spinach, potatoes and the like, +and finally nearly wrecked the whole show by asking +for a glass of water! Such a thing had never been +heard of before. Waiters hurried to and fro, but +water could not be found; and at last, with many +apologies, he was asked to put up with a bottle of +Apollinaris (“Whiskey, sir, with it?” “No, thank +you”)!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XIV<br> LONDON AND LECTURES</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>Having many friends in London, and a good many +relations, I naturally, during all the years of my +sojourn at Millthorpe, have been in the habit of +paying fairly frequent visits to the big city. It +is good to have one’s roots in the country, but it +is also necessary to have one’s branches in the great +towns where one can come into contact with the +winds and storms of human life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A considerable social storm at which I was present +was that of the so-called “Bloody Sunday” in +November ’87. A socialist meeting had been announced +for 3 p.m. in Trafalgar Square, to protest +against the Irish policy of the Government, and the +authorities (for conscience doth make cowards of +us all) probably thinking Socialism a much greater +‘terror’ than it really was, had vetoed the meeting +and drawn a ring of police, two deep, all round +the interior part of the Square. Of course the +Socialists had to make an active protest, if only +in order to bring the case into court; and three +leading members of the S.D.F.—Hyndman, John +Burns and Cunninghame Graham—agreed to march +up arm-in-arm and force their way if possible into +the charmed circle. Somehow Hyndman was lost +in the crowd on the way to the battle, but Graham +and Burns pushed their way through, challenged the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>forces of ‘Law and Order,’ came to blows, and +were duly mauled by the police, arrested, and +locked up.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I was in the Square at the time, and like most +of the crowd there more as a sightseer than anything +else. Indeed, though a large crowd it was +of a most good-humored and peaceable kind; but +the way in which it was ‘worked up,’ provoked +and irritated by the authorities, was a caution; and +gave me the strongest impression that this was done +purposely, with the intention of leading to a collision. +If this was not so the only explanation must be +that abject <i>fear</i>, on the part of the authorities, was +the moving cause. As I say, the crowd was a most +good-humored, easy-going, smiling crowd; but +presently it was transformed. A regiment of +mounted police came cantering up. The order +had gone forth that we were to be ‘kept moving.’ +To keep a crowd moving is I believe a technical +term for the process of riding roughshod in all +directions, scattering, frightening and batoning the +people—the idea no doubt being to prevent the formation +of knots or the consolidation of organized +bodies among the crowd. In this case there was +really no sign of any organized movement on the +part of the people against the police, nor had I +heard of any plan to that effect, further than the +march-up of the three leaders already mentioned. +I was standing—with my friend Robert Muirhead, +Cambridge mathematician and Smith’s Prizeman, two +peaceable enough members of society as may be +supposed—on an island-refuge just where the Strand +debouches into Trafalgar Square, when we found +ourselves violently pushed about by mounted and +foot police and told to ‘move on.’ Whether Muirhead +did not move on fast enough, or what the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>trouble was, was never explained; but the next +moment I saw him seized by the collar by a mounted +man and dragged along, apparently towards a police-station, +while a bobby on foot aided in the arrest. +I jumped to the rescue and slanged the two +constables, for which I got a whack on the cheekbone +from a baton (which distressed the more +respectable members of my family for some weeks +after), but Muirhead was released, and we soon regained +our footing on the refuge, from which for +some time we watched the police continuing, at considerable +risk to life and limb, to circle round and +insult the ‘mob.’ I mention these little details just +to show the kind of thing that happens. Purely +as the result of this ill-timed action there were +one or two ugly rushes I believe and a few broken +heads; but the damage of ‘Bloody Sunday’ did not +after all amount to much.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The case came into Court afterwards, and Burns +and Graham were sentenced to six weeks’ imprisonment +each for “unlawful assembly.” I was asked +to give evidence in favour of the defendants, and +gladly consented—though I had not much to say, +except to testify to the peaceable character of the +crowd and the high-handed action of the police. +In cross-examination I was asked whether I had +not seen any rioting; and when I replied in a +very pointed way “Not on the part of the <i>people</i>!” +a large smile went round the Court, and I was not +plied with any more questions.</p> + +<div id='i282' class='c002 figcenter id003'> +<img src='images/i282.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p><cite>MORNING LEADER</cite> CARTOON, 13 MARCH, 1906.<br> <br> “If Society people had to make their own clothes there would be some curious scenes in<br> the streets, and many would go about attired in simply an Indian blanket.”—Mr. <span class='sc'>Edwd.<br> Carpenter</span> at the meeting of the Humanitarian League at Essex Hall.<br> <br> (By courtesy of the <cite>Daily News</cite>.)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>At an early period of my Millthorpe days (about +1885 I think) two young Cambridge men who had +only just taken their degrees, Lowes Dickinson and +Roger Fry, came down to see me—two gentle, +humorous and charming creatures, who have since +<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>made their mark in Literature and Art, and whose +friendship has remained with me, I am happy to say, +all these years. Dickinson as a writer of pure +English is I should say far ahead of any of his +contemporaries. In contrast with the Meredithian, +Henry Jamesian, Chestertonian, and other literary +gymnastics of the day, his style flows along, pellucid +with pure grace and purpose, saying exactly what +is needed, no more and no less. It has the quality +of ‘the absolute in style’—which is very different +from, though sometimes mistaken for, absence of +style. Nothing could be more charming and to +the point than his <cite>Letters of John Chinaman</cite> (or +<cite>From a Chinese Official</cite>) and his <cite>Greek View of +Life</cite>. With regard to the former he told me an +amusing story about W. J. Bryan, candidate more +than once for the Presidency of the United States. +Being an American Mr. Bryan, perhaps naturally, +did not perceive (the English being so perfect) that +no Chinaman could possibly have written the book, +and being also somewhat shocked at some of the +remarks in it about the common infidelities of +matrimonial life in England and America, he quite +innocently published an article rebutting these +charges and explaining that if the author (the supposed +Chinese official) had had the advantage of +being brought up in an Anglo-Saxon household he +would never have made such mistakes! Dickinson +had consequently to write to Mr. Bryan, and, breaking +his incognito, to inform him that the author <i>had</i> +had the said advantage, and really knew what he +was talking about!</p> + +<p class='c011'>From 1885 onwards I lectured pretty frequently +in London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Bristol, Leeds, +Birmingham, Bradford, and so forth—chiefly at first +in connection with the various Socialist societies and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>groups in those places. The subjects treated of +were those which are now so well recognized and +understood everywhere that there is no need to insist +on them, though at that time they were only +beginning to appear on the social horizon—the evils +of Competition, Adulteration, Falsification of goods, +Waste, the scramble for Dividends, the iron Law +of Wages, and so forth. Afterwards the lectures +branched out a little more widely into literary and +philosophical subjects, and with more general +audiences.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In 1891, as I have already said, the Humanitarian +League was founded. And later on I gave addresses +on various occasions in connection with the League’s +meetings; one at an early date (about ’92 or ’93) +on Vivisection—in conjunction with Edward Maitland; +another on the same subject some years later; +one in ’97 on the Prisons; one in ’98 on what +might be called “Humane Science”; and one in +1906 on “Simplification of Life,” and others. In +the last-mentioned lecture I referred to the complexity +of life among our well-to-do classes which +arises from the fact of their being able to <i>pay</i> +servants for doing things for them, and pointed out +(supposing the bottom ever fell out of the bucket +of modern society, and these people really had to +produce their own food, clothing, etc.) how <i>simple</i> +their lives would probably become—and how interesting +it would be to see them going about barefoot +and clothed in flour-sacks, rather than do the +hard work of cobbling and tailoring for themselves.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The <cite>Morning Leader</cite> took the idea up, and brought +out a Cartoon illustration of the lecture, showing +the London Club men promenading in Hyde Park +with only Indian blankets and flour-bags for covering, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>though still clinging religiously to their old +umbrellas and tall hats!</p> + +<p class='c011'>For the Theosophist societies I spoke occasionally, +in Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield, and +elsewhere—weaving in some amount of Indian +philosophy (the Upanishads, etc.) with talk on social +subjects; also for the Ethical societies in much +the same way; and for Charles Rowley’s Sunday +afternoons at Ancoats, Manchester. In 1905 I took +up the question of Small Holdings and the Co-operative +Colonization of the Land—a question which +had by that time become actual through the Small +Holdings Acts of 1892 and 1907, and which will +have to be still more seriously considered in the +future; and spoke on the subject in Holmesfield +and other villages in my neighborhood, as well as +in Oxford, Glasgow and other large centres. Joseph +Fels was very keen at that time on the subject; +and I went with him to view his group of a dozen +or so five-acre holdings at Maylands in Essex. Unfortunately +the experiment did not turn out a success. +He had bought some very heavy clay land at an +absurdly low price, £7 an acre, and had spent +£20 per acre on it in breaking up and burning the +clay and heavily manuring, thus making the real +initial cost of the land £27 per acre; and had +then planted the ground with fruit-trees and had +suitable cottages built on it. Reckoning up the +total cost of each holding he offered them at a +low rental, some 3 per cent. or 4 per cent. on the +capital invested, and took some care besides in the +choice of tenants, feeling confident that with proper +handling the places would prove remunerative. +Unfortunately they did not do so. Probably it had +been a mistake to speculate on such extremely poor +land as this was to begin with. Anyhow it never +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>yielded the crops expected; and one by one the +tenants disheartened abandoned their holdings, and +the whole scheme fell to the ground.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Having always a good many friends among the +Railway-men I was not unfrequently asked to speak +at their clubs and branch meetings. On one +occasion in November 1907, in conjunction with +George Barnes, C. T. Cramp, Pete Curran and +Victor Grayson, I addressed an A.S.R.S. meeting +of over three thousand in the Sheffield Corn-Exchange. +George Barnes always strikes me as a +fine, solid and sensible man; Charlie Cramp the +same; and indeed the railway-men generally—perhaps +from their close and constant contact with +the flow of humanity—have a discernment and +reasonableness of outlook which is quite peculiar. +Victor Grayson, the course of whose political career +was so brief and so meteoric, was a most humorous +creature. His fund of anecdotes was inexhaustible, +and rarely could a supper party of which he was a +member get to bed before three in the morning. +On the platform for detailed or constructive argument +he was no good, but for criticism of the +enemy he was inimitable—the shafts of his wit played +like lightning round him, and with his big mouth +and flexible upper lip he seemed to be simply +browsing off his opponents and eating them up. His +disappearance from public life has been quite a loss.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In some ways these large audiences are easier +to speak to than small ones. Consciousness of +personalities—either one’s own or of members of +the audience—disappears; the great broad human +interests come forward; finesse and detailed argument +are of little account; the reverberation of +emotion is great, and that carries the speaker on; +but of course much depends on conditions. To +<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>hold a large audience in the open air is difficult +work, but it is good practice. Concatenation and +logical continuity are of no great importance, but +every word must be distinct, every phrase must tell, +every point be made clear and attractive, else the +congregation will evaporate even while you talk to +it, and condense again round the nearest coster’s +barrow.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In a closed room or hall you have your hearers +more at command. They cannot easily escape, and +you may become dull without knowing it! But here +again much depends on circumstances. I find a +room (of the common type) with level floor and +high raised platform at one end rather trying. It +is difficult to get <i>at</i> an audience so much below +you, and as the voice tends to rise the more <i>distant</i> +listeners seem unreachable. Worse still is a flat +room where you stand on the floor without <i>any</i> +platform; for then you cannot see your flock, and +you lose all command over it. Personally I like +an amphitheatre lecture-hall with rising tiers of seats +one behind the other; or best of all an ordinary +theatre with pit and galleries, so that from the +stage one is nearly on a level with the great bulk +of those present. I have spoken (on <cite>The Larger +Socialism</cite> or cognate subjects) to audiences of two +thousand or more at various theatres—the ‘Grand,’ +Manchester (November 1908 and November 1909), +the ‘Prince’s,’ Blackburn (October 1910), the +‘Metropole,’ Glasgow (November 1910), and others, +and with a satisfactory sense in general of being +able to reach my hearers.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On November 11, 1910, I gave an address +to the Literary and Philosophical Society at +Greenock on <cite>State-Interference with Industry</cite>, +which was repeated afterwards at Cambridge, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>Oxford, and elsewhere. The subject was much +to the fore at that time, and from opposite points +of view, owing to prevalent strikes and lock-outs. +The Clyde shipping strike was on, and there was +a good deal of indignation expressed up and down +the country at the conduct of the men in the shipyards, +who had refused to take up their tools and +go to work again, even after their leaders had counselled +and urged them to do so. I was as much +in the dark as most others about the cause of this +strange refusal—until I reached Greenock; and then +I soon heard from various quarters, both of men +and masters, the real reason. It was not a question +of wages or of hours. Those matters had so far +been settled satisfactorily. The real grievance was +a personal one. The men had been affronted by +the overbearing conduct of the Chairman of the +Employers’ Association, the insulting manner in +which he had behaved to their representatives, and +so forth; and they were not going to put up with +this without a protest. They wanted to be treated +in a gentlemanly way. It was encouraging and +refreshing to find that this was so; and the fact +that it was so lets a good deal of light into a +frequent cause of labour troubles and dissensions. +But of course in this case at Greenock, as in so +many others, the Press all over the country had +got on the wrong tack, and the public never knew +the real rights of the matter.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On October 24, 1908, the Women’s Suffrage +party held a great demonstration in Manchester, +which like others of their functions was a miracle +of organization. There were to be ten platforms, +and the mere getting together of ten distinct bodies +of processionists at their respective starting-stations +in the neighborhood of the Town Hall, and marching +<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>them off to the appointed time, was no light +matter. However it was done; and with Mrs. +Despard walking gallantly at the head, supported +by Margaret Ashton, Miss Abadam, Dr. Helen +Wilson, Isabella Ford, Mrs. Swanwick, Mrs. K. D. +Courtney, Mrs. Billington Greig, Councillor James +Johnston, Professor Chapman, Canon Hicks and +myself, a solid phalanx nearly a mile long, with +bands and banners complete, walked all the way +to Alexandra Park, three miles out! The immense +crowd which came forth to witness the demonstration, +and which lined both sides of the road, did +not say much; it did not cheer to any great extent, +nor did it scoff; it was simply deeply impressed. +A large part of it followed on the route and collected +round the ten platforms—about a thousand listeners +to each. Each platform dealt with a separate subject—mine, +in conjunction with Mrs. Greig and Miss +Margaret Robertson, took <cite>Prison Reform</cite>. A cornet +finally gave the signal for a joint resolution to be +proposed in favour of the Suffrage, which was of +course carried by acclamation, and the crowd +dispersed.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Mrs. Despard’s work in the two related causes +of Women and Labour has been splendid. Her +ardour and indomitable resolution, despite the +drawback of advancing years, have been almost +miraculous, and I always see her in my mind’s eye +marching gloriously to some encounter, and resembling +the horse (in the words of the book of +Job) “who saith among the trumpets Ha! ha! +and sniffeth the battle from afar!” It has been +an honour and a pleasure to me to speak on many +a platform with Mrs. Despard—in Trafalgar Square +and elsewhere. In October 1912 I took the chair at +a meeting of the Sheffield Women’s Freedom League, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>when she lectured on the subject of Shelley’s <cite>Prometheus +Unbound</cite>. It is characteristic of her that +this poem was a favorite of hers from earliest girlhood; +and in a sustained address that evening she +quoted very large portions of it by heart, holding +her audience for nearly two hours in rapt accord +and attention. Mrs. Despard was, I need hardly +say, like Shelley himself, an ardent vegetarian—though +Shelley, owing to circumstances and conditions, +often probably found it difficult to live quite +up to the mark of his wishes in this respect.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In October 1909 I was honoured by being made +President of the Vegetarian Congress at Manchester +for that year—notwithstanding my own occasional +derelictions from the ideal standard—and I found +myself in the chair at an interesting meeting supported +by well-known pillars of the movement like +Professor J. E. Mayor of Cambridge, Dr. E. A. +Axon of Manchester, Dr. Lybeck of Helsingfors, and +others. The thing that struck me most about the +meeting was the extraordinary number of extremely +ancient looking patriarchs present with long white +hair and beards; and I very nearly disgraced +myself in my opening speech by expressing a doubt +whether in view of this result Vegetarianism was a +thing really to be desired or recommended! Some +kind presiding spirit however saved me from this +ineptitude, and I reached the end of my discourse +safely and without succumbing to the temptation.</p> + +<p class='c006'>A subject on which I have often spoken—though +always with the sense of only touching the fringe +of it—is that of the connection between Sun worship +and Christianity. The existing books on the subject +are quite unsatisfactory, being very limited in their +outlook. Some day it will have to be worked out +<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>more thoroughly. It is a most interesting subject, +but as it involves a good deal of historical and +antiquarian information and some technical knowledge +of Astronomy besides reference to early sexual +rites, it is not a very easy one to put before a general +audience. I gave a lecture on it for the Sheffield +Ethical Society in December 1908 and for J. R. +Campbell’s “Progressive League” at the City +Temple in November 1909, as well as in other +places; but it really would require a series of +lectures for anything like adequate presentment. +The <i>continuity</i> of Christianity with the religions of +the old world and its ordered evolution from them +is the idea which we now require to realize. We +have had enough of its portrayal as a miraculous +and exceptional stage in human development; and +now that the world is coming round again to a +concrete appreciation of the value and beauty of +actual life, and to a sort of neo-Pagan point of +view, it is above all important that we should understand +the sources from which Christianity sprang +in the past, and what germs of a world-religion +it may bear within itself for the future, when it +shall have cast off the crude and gothic elements +of its mediæval development.</p> + +<p class='c011'>My friend Edward Lewis, himself a writer on The +New Paganism, was in 1912 and 1913 minister of +the King’s Weigh House Church, Duke Street, W., +and he and R. J. Campbell not unfrequently interchanged +pulpits at that time. Lewis persuaded me +to speak at his church; and on two occasions +(November 1912 and October 1913) I did so. His +congregation, largely trained no doubt and educated +by his discourses, was an intelligent and sympathetic +one, and though I had some misgivings on +my first visit in speaking on so abstruse a subject +<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>as “The Nature of the Self”—illustrated as it was +by numerous quotations from the Upanishads and +from <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>—I felt no misgiving on +the second occasion, when my subject (similarly +illustrated) was “Rest.” These lectures were repeated +at the Lyceum (women’s) Club, Piccadilly, +at Croydon, Eastbourne and elsewhere; and the +fact that audiences like these, of a rather popular +character, could listen with deep understanding and +sympathy to the unfolding of innermost psychological +teachings has convinced me that the germs of a +new and democratic religion are only waiting among +our mass-peoples for the day and the stimulus which +will bring them to birth and development.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Edward Lewis, being vigorous in heart and brain, +and a real man, naturally could not continue very +long in a profession like “the ministry” which +entailed his ascending the pulpit three or four times +a week and not only giving ‘edifying’ counsel to +his congregation but confining his own life within +a corresponding circle of inanity. Such a career +would inevitably have sapped and ruined his manhood; +and with true instinct he threw up his +five or six hundred a year and retired into the +wilderness. The members of his congregation were +duly shocked and grieved in their different ways, +according to the views they took of his lapse or +lapses from holiness; but if, as is likely, the +quondam Christian minister should become the missionary +and apostle of a new and vital Paganism, +the world will be very much the gainer.</p> + +<p class='c006'>The War, now going on [1915] is not only acting +already very directly on the industrial life of the +nations concerned but is pointing pretty clearly +towards a remodelling of our general conception of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>Industry for the future. It is fairly certain that +somehow or other the gloomy and depressing wage-slavery +of the present day—so intimately bound up +with the Commercial régime—will have to give way; +and productive work will have to regain the +characters of spontaneity and gladness which surely +are of the essence of its nature, and which are the +necessary roots of all Art and of all Beauty and +Joy in life. With that transformation of industry +all life will be transformed, and the neo-Pagan ideal +will become a thing possible of realization.</p> + +<p class='c011'>For some years, from 1910 onwards I have +spoken on this idea—entitling my lectures “Freedom +in Industry,” “Beauty in Civic Life” and so +forth, and delivering them before various bodies and +in various places—as at Caxton Hall, London, for +the Humanitarian League; at Crosby Hall, Chelsea, +for the University Settlement there; for the Fabian +Society at Oxford; for the Arts Club at Leeds; +for the Progressive and Town-planning League at +Bolton; for the N.U.T. Association at Chesterfield; +and for many Adult Schools, I.L.P. Clubs and +Ethical and Theosophist societies in different parts +of the country.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To produce for Use; that production should really +take place for the benefit of the Consumer; to concentrate +not on Profit to individuals, but on advantage +and gain to the Community; to drop in one inspired +moment the whole mad sequence of cut-throat +Rivalry, insane Waste, disgusting Fraud, and inane +Uselessness, which constitute modern Industry; all +this would mean such an enormous liberation of +Power, such an incalculable increase in general +Wealth, that the spectre of poverty would be exorcised +for ever, and the numbing anxiety which +weighs so heavily now on the lives of millions would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>be lifted away like an evil cloud. Joy would descend +upon life, and the ordinary occupations would become +free, spontaneous and beautiful.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Our powers of production to-day are so immense +that even in the midst of the present frightful War +we (on this little island) can spare millions of our +best men for fighting, and millions more for the +work of providing those fighters with engines of death +and destruction, and <i>yet</i> with the residue can calmly +and easily keep the nation going. What our powers +and our achievement might be if once those eight +millions or so—whose work is now only destructive—were +turned on to the great positive task of social +reconstruction and sensible human emancipation, it +really passes imagination to conceive. The age-long +world-dream of Paradise Regained would at last be +within our reach. We can see that the War is even +now forcing the modern peoples to take stock of +their boasted Civilization, to reckon up the gains +to Humanity which it represents—and the losses; +to find out and decide in what direction they are +really moving, and in what direction they want to +move. If an event so great, so colossal, as this +does not shatter the old order of profit-grinding +and wage-slavery and wake a new ideal of life in +the heart of the nations, one would say there is +little hope for the world. But surely it will do so.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XV<br> TRANSLATIONS AND TRANSLATORS</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>Among the many good things in my life which I +owe to my books by no means the least has been +my introduction through them to dear and valued +foreign friends.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One day in March 1901 there called upon me a +young Hungarian—Ervin Batthyány by name—a +modest, sturdy and almost rustic-looking youth of +about twenty-three. He proved to be a member +of the well-known Batthyány family, whose influence +in Hungarian politics, on the Liberal as well +as on the Conservative side, has always been considerable; +but he was by no means conservative +in his outlook or ultra-aristocratic in his leanings.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It happened at the moment of his appearance that +I was doing some gardening and trundling about +a wheelbarrow. “Oh,” he said at once, “do let +me wheel that barrow for you; I do like so much +to do that sort of work, but I have no chance at +home—I am so <i>civilized</i> you know.” For a moment +I thought he was chaffing; then the next moment +I saw he was quite sincere. I believe I let him +trundle the barrow for a bit; then we sat down +and talked.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It turned out that he was expecting in the following +year to come into large landed estates in +Hungary; that he had studied and thought about +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>Socialism to some extent; and that among other +things he wanted to consult me about the administration +of his property when he should have the management +of it. It appeared that with the almost feudal +system still prevailing in that part, the cottagers and +labourers working on such estates were practically +attached to the soil and frequently transferred with +it from owner to owner; that they were employed +by the farm-bailiffs in gangs for the benefit of the +estate; that they received next to no monetary +wages, but were paid in pork or flour or the poor +tenements they inhabited—that is, they were paid +by a small share of the wealth they had themselves +created; that they had no means of earning anything +independently; and that they had little or +no education—the schools being all under the thumb +of the Catholic priests.</p> + +<p class='c011'>We talked over possible reforms—of a mild kind +of course, as anything drastic would be out of the +question; and when he went away he said with +the same charming simplicity as before “The next +time I see you I hope I shall not be so <i>civilized</i>.” +The next time proved to be some three years later.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He returned to Buda-Pesth shortly after his visit +to Millthorpe; and took as it happened a copy of +<cite>Towards Democracy</cite> with him, which he gave to a +lady friend there—a certain Madame Nadler—knowing +that she was interested and indeed accomplished +in English literature. Madame Nadler took warmly +to the book, and before long it came about that +she and the young Count, who was a frequent visitor +at her house, spent a large part of their time together +in reading and discussing it—with the not unnatural +result that they became warmly interested in each +other.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Meanwhile he, the young man, plunged into the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>administration of his newly acquired estate, and in +the course of two or three years made useful changes. +He founded an undenominational school, with a workshop +for instructing the peasants in various crafts, +and a reading-room provided with more or less +socialistic literature—an innocent enough proceeding +as we should think, but it turned the whole Clerical +party against him, and terrified the aristocratic landowners +of the neighborhood out of their wits, as +with the shadow of a coming revolution! All this, +together with his journalistic work in connection with +various anti-militarist and Anarchist papers brought +him into conflict with his family and the authorities, +with the result that a sequestration of his property +took place, and for a couple of years he was subject +to a good deal of annoyance. During that period, +curiously enough, little Millthorpe became the chief +means of communication between the two friends—for +I was in touch with them both, while their +local and more direct letters were liable to be intercepted. +They were thus able to concert plans to +frustrate the enemy, which they did with such success +that at the end of the period mentioned Ervin resumed +work on his estates—though not without some +risk, as may be imagined, of renewed attacks.</p> + +<p class='c011'>After these events <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> became +more than ever a link between the two friends. They +determined to translate the book—not into Hungarian +but into German (as being a more widely received +language), and they set to work upon it in real +earnest. Mme. Nadler’s competence for this labour +was quite exceptional. With a great enthusiasm for +the book and a quick appreciation of its meanings, +she combined a very fine literary sense and aptness +of phrase; while Ervin with his rather encyclopædic +brain was able to interpret all sorts of references +<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>to trades and Nature-processes. In 1906 the +translation of Part I was published in Berlin; and +Parts II, III and IV followed in separate editions +in the three following years, 1907, 1908, and 1909.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But meanwhile (early I think in 1904) Mme. +Nadler having decided to give her children the +advantage of an English education, and at the same +time to save them from the hatefulness of enforced +military service, migrated to this country; and so +it came to pass that I made the personal acquaintance +of this remarkable and beautiful woman—an +acquaintance which, I need not say, soon ripened +into friendship. Ervin, too, finding his native land +not very congenial came over to England; and +thus it happened that after the lapse of three years +he and I resumed the conversations which we had +first begun over the wheelbarrow. I did not notice +that he was notably less ‘civilized’ than before, +but his experiences had very obviously altered his +political and social outlook, and his general views +were decidedly more anti-governmental than they +had been at the earlier date.</p> + +<p class='c006'>These translations by Madame Nadler were, however, +by no means the first to be made into German. +In 1901 or so Herr Karl Federn had come over +from Vienna and spent a day or two at Millthorpe. +In 1902 he placed his translation of <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> +with a Leipzig publisher, and the book almost +immediately had a good reception. It passed +through several editions, and when a few years later, +in 1912, the first German Women’s Congress was +held in Berlin the book curiously enough became +a sort of bone of contention, dividing the advanced +party who took it as their text-book, from the more +conservative party who anathematized it. In proportion +as controversy raged around it the work +became more notorious, a cheap edition was printed, +and before the Great War broke out some fifty +thousand copies had been sold.</p> + +<div id='i299' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i299.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>LILLY NADLER-NUELLENS WITH HER DAUGHTER.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>Herr Federn was not very fortunate in his choice +of a title. <cite>Wenn die Menschen reif zur Liebe +werden</cite> is only a rather heavy paraphrase of +<cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>, and the text of the book +itself suffers from a certain heaviness and diffuseness. +Still to Herr Federn himself I feel I owe a +considerable debt, not only for introducing my work +to the German public, but for the general fidelity +of his translations and the loyalty of his dealings +on my account with the German publishers. In +1903 he published also in Leipzig his translation +of <cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>; and in 1905, +in Jena, the translation of <cite>The Art of Creation</cite> (<cite>Die +Schöpfung als Kunstwerk</cite>). This last was issued +in rather elaborate <i>format</i> by the well-known firm, +Eugen Diederichs, but has never reached the +circulation of the other two.</p> + +<p class='c006'>In the Spring of 1909 I was at Florence for +some weeks; and there—largely through my friend +Professor Herron—I came into touch with an interesting +circle of young Italian <i>literati</i> and artists; +especially interesting to me because they represented +a strong reaction away from the very +bourgeois and commercialized Italian art-ideals of +the later nineteenth century, and towards the ideals +of John Ruskin and William Morris—ideals founded +on the socialization of human activities and the intimate +relationship of all true literary and artistic +work to the actual life of the mass-peoples.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The group included such men as Riccardo +Nobili, probably the best living exponent of Fourteenth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>Century Italian art, whose charming little +story <cite>A Modern Antique</cite> delightfully exposes the +fakes of Florentine art-dealers and the gorgeous +gullibility of American globe-trotters; Roberto +Assagioli, the young philosopher, editor of <cite>Psiche</cite>—a +psychological Review—and author of an illuminating +tract on the Talking Horses of Elberfeldt<a id='r28'></a><a href='#f28' class='c012'><sup>[28]</sup></a>; +Guido Ferrando, author of a couple of tracts +on <cite>La Coscienza Universale</cite> and <cite>La Nuova Psicologia</cite> +(Florence 1908)—who has done me the honour to +translate my <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> and my <cite>Art of +Creation</cite> into Italian; Count Auteri, the Sicilian +architect and sculptor; Giuseppe Rambelli, the artist, +and others.</p> + +<p class='c011'>More or less associated with this group—and on +a second visit—I made the acquaintance of Teresina +Bagnoli, a gifted young woman who had already +been in correspondence with me with regard to a +translation of <cite>T. D.</cite> (of which she sent me batches +from time to time for criticism and revision). I +found her swift and penetrating and original, and +verging on Anarchism in her political and philosophic +outlook; and I have to thank her for her excellent +little volume <cite>Verso la Democrazia</cite><a id='r29'></a><a href='#f29' class='c012'><sup>[29]</sup></a> which has +brought me into touch with Italian readers in that +intimate field.</p> + +<p class='c006'>It is curious, but perhaps not unexpected, that +my best translators have been women. To a third +lady friend, Mademoiselle Senard, I owe a very excellent +version of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> into French +(Parts III and IV only). After some little preliminary +correspondence Mlle. Senard came over from +Paris in the summer of 1913 and spent a couple +<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>of months in the country in my neighborhood. +Sprung from an old-fashioned and rather aristocratic +family in Burgundy she had managed at a comparatively +early age to emancipate herself from a convent +school and education, and by her resolution had +almost compelled her parents to find for her a way +out into the great world. She had become a perfect +linguist in English, German and Italian; and I found +her a fine-looking and attractive person of thirty-five +or so, always, like a true Frenchwoman, perfectly +dressed and <i>chic</i>, yet simply dressed and absolutely +natural in her conversation and movements. +It was a pleasure to spend many a morning or +afternoon with her, looking over her translation +work or rambling through the garden and the +fields.</p> + +<p class='c011'>However well one may know a foreign language +it is rarely possible to follow every <i>nuance</i> of meaning +or to succeed entirely in avoiding errors; and +a foreigner dealing with English has perhaps all +the more difficulty in that way on account of the +idiomatic and irregular character of our language. +I have not always cared so much about the other +books, but with <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> I have been +very anxious that the renderings should be faithful; +and it has been fortunate for me that in these three +cases I have had such very competent translators, +and been sufficiently versed myself in the languages +concerned to be able to assist them in doubtful +places.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Marcelle Senard wrote also a little brochure of +her own on <cite>Edward Carpenter et sa Philosophie</cite>,<a id='r30'></a><a href='#f30' class='c012'><sup>[30]</sup></a> +which shows the clearness and penetration of a +well-balanced French mind. Then, on the outbreak +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>of the War in 1914 she took up Nursing work, and +with extraordinary energy and devotion organized +and helped to equip a new Hospital for the Wounded +at Nevers, south of Paris, where she remained for +a year as Manageress and Secretary, till exhausted +with the incessant labour she was at last compelled +to relinquish the post.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In connection with French translations I must not +forget to mention my friend Paul Le Rouge who is +now assistant judge in French Morocco, and who +translated and published my <cite>Prisons, Police and +Punishment</cite> in Paris some ten years ago. I am +sorry to say I have not found an English judge or +police-magistrate who has taken an equal interest +in the original book!</p> + +<p class='c006'>Early in 1910 I received one or two letters from +a young Japanese illustrating the sad state of commercial +slavery and militarism into which Japan had +fallen since the Russo-Japanese War. Women and +children as well as men were being worked twelve +hours or more a day in the factories which were +springing up on all sides, and for a miserable +pittance; there were no regulations to curb the greed +of employers; and any public protest was treated +as anti-governmental Socialism, with the result that +papers were suppressed in the most arbitrary way, +and speakers committed to prison. A Japanese lady, +Mme. Fukuda, had been imprisoned for five years +for thus voicing the wrongs of the workers; and +my correspondent, Sanshiro Ishikawa, was awaiting +trial on a similar charge. He had, being a fair +English scholar, been interested in my work for +some time; and told me (what I had heard before) +that a translation of my Civilization book had circulated +pretty widely in his country at a quite early +<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>date. That translation, however, had gone out of +print, and he, Ishikawa, was preparing a new one +for the press, when—the Japanese Censor interfered +and forbade its publication!</p> + +<p class='c011'>This shows up pretty clearly the state of darkness +which had descended on the land of the Rising +Sun! It was not of course on account of his +interest in my book that he had been arrested, but +on account of his general work in the cause of +Labour.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The result of his trial was that he was sent to +prison for three months, and that on his emergence +he had to keep rather quiet on account of the attentions +of the Police. He retained however his interest +in my writings, made translations of portions of +them, and embodied these together with some +biographical matter in a book of some three hundred +pages beautifully printed in Japanese characters and +published in Tokyo in 1912; but of course for +the most part a sealed book to me. Some small +portions, however, are printed in our language and +characters, including a letter from myself written +to him while he was in prison—which I may as +well reproduce here as it serves to throw light on +the situation:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-l c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Dear Friend Ishikawa Sanshiro</span>,</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c007'>Just a line to cheer you in prison—though you will be nearly +coming out when this reaches you. I received your letter of March +27 with much pleasure. You were to go to prison next day. They +seem to be very severe and despotic in Japan, when one cannot +even publish <cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite> there. But your +countrymen are too sensible to bear this sort of treatment for very +long. I suppose it is <i>patriotism</i> which is so very strong in the nation +just now, and which forms an excuse for anti-socialism. King +Edward VII’s death is causing a great wave of patriotism here; yet +the future of mankind is leading us beyond patriotism to <i>humanity</i>.</p> + +<p class='c007'>I cannot write much now, but thought I would send you a few +<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>lines. I believe I did send you my photograph. If it did not reach +you let me know, and I will send another.</p> + +<p class='c007'>With hearty greetings and thanks to you for what you have done +in the great Cause.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-r c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Yours very truly,</div> + <div class='line in8'><span class='sc'>Edwd. Carpenter</span>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-l c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><i>21 May, 1910.</i></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>After a time—I hardly know whether on account +of troubles in Japan or of attractions towards +Europe—Sanshiro determined to come to these +Western lands; and one day in the autumn of 1913, +as I happened to be in London, he came to call +on me there. Anything less dangerous-looking as +a revolutionary it would be hard to imagine. Small +in stature, timid in manner, and with a very gentle +voice, he seemed the embodiment of quietude and +sympathy. It was not difficult however in his case, +as in that of many Japanese, to discern, beneath +that composed exterior, a strong undercurrent of +resolution and courage.</p> + +<p class='c011'>He read English with ease, but spoke it rather +slowly and with difficulty, was intelligent, and like +many Orientals skilful with his fingers and apt at +housework. We tried to find him employment and +a means of living in our neighborhood or in Sheffield +or Manchester, but without success, and after similar +efforts in London he migrated to Brussels where he +knew of a friend in Paul Reclus, son of Elie and +nephew of Elisée Reclus, and where he obtained +occupation in decorative painting. This was early +in 1914. In August, of course, the War broke out, +and a few weeks later the Germans entered Brussels. +The Reclus family—before their entry I imagine—retired +to Paris; but Sanshiro remained in Brussels—I +believe as caretaker of their apartments. It +was a somewhat risky position. The Germans drew +<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>a cordon round the city, and ruled severely within it. +Once or twice only he got messages through to me.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But as the weeks went by he began to feel that +he must escape at all costs; and in the end he +succeeded in doing so—by representations I believe +to the Japanese Government, which led to his liberty +being granted in exchange for a German prisoner +taken at Kiao-chow; but of this I am not certain. +I have not seen him since, but anyhow he got to +Liancourt (near Paris) where he now is [1915].</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another Japanese friend, Mr. Saikwa Tomita, the +youthful author of <cite>The Matanjitenshô</cite> or <cite>Psalm of +the Last Day</cite>, has translated and published large +portions of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> in current Japanese +magazines, and intends apparently to bring the whole +out in book form—as well as versions of <cite>The Art +of Creation</cite> and some of my other works. Speaking +(in a letter) of the present War, he says: “Japan +is at her crisis as well as Europe is. Here in this +country, as you well know, he who is for the lower +classes and vagabonds, or who is for [the] cosmopolitanism, +is treated by the authorities under the +name of ill-fame and has to suffer from a bitter +experience.” And Sanshiro Ishikawa above-mentioned +speaks likewise: “Is not this a terrible +epoch, that the violent force only holds the supreme +power in this world, and humanity has no influence, +at least in [the] international affairs. The present +situation of Japan is in most dangerous step [stage]; +many peoples are becoming admirers of militarism. +Commercialism is already too powerful; and I feel +a duty that I must fight with full-hearted spirit +against them.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>Let us pray that these true-hearted fighters for +Internationalism may prevail—all over the world, and +among all nations!</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>I am proud to find that among the Bulgarians—who +are supposed just now to be our enemies—I +have many friends. Messrs. Vaptzaroff and Dosseff, +editors of the magazine called <cite>Renaissans</cite> at Burgas +and Tchirpan, published in it shortly before the War +various chapters of <cite>Civilization</cite>, including “The +Defence of Criminals,” “Custom,” “Modern +Science,” etc., and later the whole of that book, +and of <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>. With the outbreak of the +war however they retired to Maikop in the Kuban +Territory (east of the Black Sea), being in touch +there with another friend of mine, the Russian novelist +and mystic, Ivan Najívin. M. Najívin, who makes +his home apparently in the country near Novorossisk +on the shores of the Euxine—working there among +his bees, and in his vineyard and vegetable garden—has +written to me for some years, chiefly about +Cosmic Consciousness and Sandals! He is, as may +be imagined, particularly interested in the Indian +Sannyasis and mystics, and was lately much surprised +to find that some of the Russian peasant sects +(notably the <i>Stranniks</i>) among whom he had lived +so long were all the time unbeknown to him holding +views and favouring practices very similar to those +of the Hindu mystics. “<span lang="fr">Bientôt je vous écrirai des +choses extraordinaires à propos du <i>gñanam</i> et +<i>samadhi</i>, etc. Tout cela existe parmi le bas peuple +et les moines Russes!</span>” (letter of May 1913). He +has translated my <cite>Visit to a Gñani</cite> into Russian under +the title <cite>I Am</cite>, also large portions of <cite>Towards +Democracy</cite> and the whole of <cite>Civilization</cite>. Besides +M. Najívin I am indebted to M. Sergius Orlovski +and M. G. Rapoport and others for introductions to +the Russian public.</p> + +<div id='i310' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i310.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>MARCELLE SENARD.<br> <br> (<cite>Photo: L. Fréon, Neuilly, Paris.</cite>)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>To my young friend Illit Gröndahl of Kloften, +Norway, I owe the circulation of my works in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>Norway, especially in Bergen. In Amsterdam a +translation of <cite>Civilization</cite> (<cite>De Beschaving: hare +oorzaak en hare Genesing</cite>) was issued as long ago +as 1899—with Preface by Leo Tolstoy (the same +preface which Tolstoy wrote to the chapter on +Modern Science<a id='r31'></a><a href='#f31' class='c012'><sup>[31]</sup></a>); and in the same city a translation +of <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite> (<cite>Liefde’s Meerderjarigheid</cite>) +was issued in 1904.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XVI<br> RURAL CONDITIONS</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>In contrast with the Artisans and Town-workers +whom I had got to know so well, the farm-populations +and rustics among whom I found myself +embedded when I settled at Millthorpe were decidedly +interesting. In the working masses of the towns—at +any rate of the Northern towns—what attracted +one was the ferment of the New Life coming on: +the social dreams of a better future; the efforts to +realize such dreams, even in a small way; the push +towards independence; the greater alertness and +education; the busy hum and activity of Trades +Unions and all manner of Labour Associations. What +interested me in the country was something quite +different. It was in fact the Old Life—the old +immemorial rustic existence still going on, still there +though giving signs of passing of course. As it +happened, I could hardly have found a more old-world, +purely agricultural parish, if I had searched +for it—certainly not in the North of England—than +Holmesfield when I first came there. (Now—oh, +irony!—it is already beginning to be civilized!) It +was all in the old rural style—the leisurely long day +with its varied occupations and interests, the life of +the open air and the fields, the cattle and the crops, +the barn and the public-house; the absolute acceptance +of things as they are, complete non-interest in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>reform, positive indifference to anything not patently +visible to the eye, or to abstractions of any kind. +The good folk would talk about a particular field—and +really with amazing detail about its history, its +climate, its soil, its suitability for such and such +crops, and so forth; but if you broached any phase +of the Land Question (however really important to +them)—their eyes would soon glaze and their conversation +revert to their pigs or potatoes.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A few years after my arrival at Millthorpe, having +found out some facts about the Commons Enclosures +in the neighborhood, I wrote a four-page tract +entitled <cite>Our Parish and our Duke</cite>—giving some +account of the circumstances under which our +common lands were eaten up by our local landlords +early last century—and circulated it around. It was +printed in the London <cite>Star</cite> (July 8, 1889) and +quoted and commented on in other papers; and it +sold and circulated in leaflet form some twenty +thousand or more copies; but in the Parish itself +it elicited no response! One old farmer whom I +knew pretty well said “It’s very well put together, +Mister, and it’s just exactly true”—and that was +all the backing I got. Probably if there were others +that approved they did not dare to say so. The fact +that it challenged a Duke gave them pause! The +tract, somewhat enlarged and altered and under the +title <cite>The Village and the Landlord</cite>, is now published +by the Fabian Society (Tract No. 136, 1d.).<a id='r32'></a><a href='#f32' class='c012'><sup>[32]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c011'>Thus, as I think I have said before, on first +coming to Millthorpe I experienced a certain sense +of isolation among the people there. Whereas in +Sheffield and even at little Bradway I was received +<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>as a friend and commonly called by my christian +name, at Millthorpe I was a stranger—and like all +strangers an object of suspicion—and was addressed +as “Mister.” It was a curious situation, and I +found myself leading a double and divided life. How +I came in the end to bridge the gulf and (so far) +to overpass it I hardly know; but Time does +wonders, and by slow degrees the rustics have +accepted me almost as one of themselves and given +me, some of them, their warm friendship. I am +indeed bound to say that despite the great differences +between them and the town-workers, and the greater +general intelligence and alertness of the latter, I +admire the character of the country-folk most—their +extraordinary serenity and good humour, their +tenacity, sincerity, and real affectionateness. Even +their silent ways—though irritating at times—are a +relief from the eternal gabble of the cities. Said +a farmer youth to me one day—after we had been +listening for some time to the rather cheap talk +of an elderly and radical “citizen”—“They do talk, +those townsfolk,” he said; and then after a pause—“them +as talks so much <i>they must tell a lot o’ +lies</i>.” And I entirely agreed with him.</p> + +<p class='c006'>Talking about the gulf fixed between the Old +and the New, and especially between the mentality +of the downright manual worker and that of the +artist—at one time we had an artist friend staying +with us who was rather down on his luck and making +only a poor living. He was working on a landscape +picture, and every morning used to sit in one of +my fields and close to the wall which divided it +from the high-road. An old road-mender (the same +who had told me years before how he remembered +the Commons “going in” i.e. being enclosed)—a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>good old man but bowed with age and labour—used +to come that way every morning to his work; +and every morning, as sure as Fate, made some +patronizing remark to the painter, which at last +enraged the latter beyond endurance. “That’s a +nice pastime for you, young man.” And then the +next morning, “I see you’re amusin’ yoursen again, +young man”; and so on. (“Pastime, indeed! +amusing myself! I wish the old fool had to do it +instead of me. But I’ll be even with him yet!”) +So the next morning the artist inveigled the old +man into conversation, and after submitting meekly +to more patronage, said: “Well you see I have +to do this for my living.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Do it for your livin’, do ye?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Do you sell them paintin’s, then?”</p> + +<p class='c011'>“Of course I do.”</p> + +<p class='c011'><i>Old Man</i> (a little taken aback): “And how +much might you get for a thing like that?”</p> + +<p class='c011'><i>Artist</i> (stretching a point): “Well I might get +ten pounds.”</p> + +<p class='c011'><i>Old Man</i> (astonished): “Ten pun! well I +never!”</p> + +<p class='c011'><i>Artist</i> (following up): “Or I might get more +of course.”</p> + +<p class='c011'><i>Old Man</i> (thoughtfully and with deep respect): +“Ten pun! Well, I never—<i>and sittin’ down to it +too</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c006'>But Hodge is passing away. The old agricultural +population (farmer and labourer) is changing under +the pressure of modern life; and soon—for good +or evil—will be a thing of the past. The motor-car +and the cycle, the telephone and the daily paper, +are ploughing up the country districts, torrents of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>townsfolk pour over the land on holidays, and the +seeds of new ideas are being sown. Already I can +see, even in this little corner of the land, a new +type of native arising.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The great drawback of the country folk in England +(worse here no doubt than in Ireland) is their want +of initiative. Centuries of smothered life under the +incubus of the Landlord and the Parson have had +their inevitable effect. They never <i>will</i> speak their +minds, or commit themselves to any action which +is not entirely customary and approved by the powers +that be. It may be different in other parts of the +country, but here the one answer to any question +of importance (especially if put by a stranger) is +“I don’t know—I don’t know.” So fearful have +they been for generations lest their words should +be by chance reported in ruling quarters that the +habit of concealment has at last got into their blood. +One sees from this how paralysing our land system +is towards all manhood and resourceful initiative in +the country.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Nor is the matter much different in many other +lands. When in Sicily (in 1909) we found that +among the peasants the children were systematically +taught to <i>lie</i>, and punished by their parents for +truth-speaking. And for a very simple reason. For +if a stranger came along and asked questions of a +child—“How much land has your father?”—“How +many goats does he keep?”—ten to one that stranger +was an emissary of the Church (the chief landlord +of the old days), or a taxgatherer, and so an +emissary of the State; and the truth would mean +more rent or more taxes. Thus deceit was the +only salvation, and lying the chief foundation of +“Morality.” Here in England the parson and the +landlord have a similar paralysing influence; and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>whether they actively and consciously are conspiring +against the people, or whether their questionings (as +sometimes may happen) are inspired by pure kindness, +the result is the same—namely the corruption +of the people; and perhaps a worse corruption in +the second case than in the first.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Still the new life must come, and has to come, +and is coming. Small Holdings—either freehold or +with a secure tenancy under a public body—give +perhaps the best chance of breeding a spirit of +independence in the people. Co-operation trains them +in adaptability and resource.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At one time—seeing the waste of energy resulting +from the twenty or so small farmers in our valley +each making their separate few pats of butter weekly +(and bad butter at that!) I got a dozen or more of +them together and put the case for co-operative milk-selling +before them. They all agreed that it was +the right thing to do, that milk-selling paid much +better than butter-making and that the cost of +transit to town (by motor-car or country cart) could +be recouped with profit. We went into the figures +and were satisfied. But when it came to actual +operations the paralysis of lack of initiative was on +them, and no one would stir a finger! If <i>I</i> had +arranged a whole scheme and set it in operation I +have no doubt they would have fallen in with it. +But, as I said, I had my own work to do, and had +no intention of giving up a large part of the day +to their affairs. The only one who volunteered to +do anything practically—and this illustrates the +difference between the agricultural and the other +workers—was curiously enough a <i>navvy</i>. He had +only a very small farm which he carried on side +by side with his navvy work, but he immediately +took practical steps and would I believe have carried +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>a scheme through but for an illness which just then +overtook him.</p> + +<p class='c011'>A supply of Small Holdings (holdings say up +to thirty acres in size<a id='r33'></a><a href='#f33' class='c012'><sup>[33]</sup></a>) on a really secure basis +would do an immense work in liberating the social +life of the rural workers. For the first time in his +history one of the most important types of man in +the country would be able to hold up his head, +face his ‘superiors,’ and give some kind of utterance +and expression to his own ideals. At present +agricultural life is hugely dull from its mere +uniformity and want of variety under the all-pervading +foot-rule of the landowner and his faithful +servant the parson. A greater supply of small +holdings would also, I need hardly say, be valuable +from the economic point of view, and the greater +variety it would encourage in the culture of the soil.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Of course what we now especially want, and what +happily people are beginning to <i>feel</i> the want of, +is the establishment of large co-operative farms over +the face of the land—somewhat on the model of the +Danish farms. When it is remembered what the +Danes have done, with an originally quite poor soil, +by their organized co-operative methods—how they +have renewed the prosperity of their own country +and created a new invasion of Britain by their agricultural +products—it seems astonishing that we over +here still remain in the muddy ruts of our old ways. +Supposing for example that by co-operative or +governmental purchase, or even (if it can be +imagined) by gift from a large landowner, an extensive +farm of some two thousand acres were +acquired; supposing that suitable portions of the +farm were broken up into twenty small holdings +<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>of ten or twenty acres each; and that the remaining +body of the land were farmed in thorough style +under a skilled manager—the workers on the central +farm being the small holders themselves, who would +thus work partly for themselves on an individualistic +basis and partly collectively for wages; supposing +that the manager was given by the co-operators a +certain amount of authority for the purposes of work +and organization, and that on the other hand he +was there to <i>advise</i> the small holders to a certain +extent as to their work and crops; supposing that +he organized co-operative arrangements for the +members of the society, both for the purchase of +necessary materials and the sale of their products; +suppose that a joint council arranged the matters +of wages and dividends, and the establishment of +creameries, cheese and butter-making apparatus, egg-collecting +systems, and so forth; surely it is not +very difficult to see that in some such roughly indicated +way a great new departure might be made +in the agricultural development of the United +Kingdom. If a thousandth, if a twenty thousandth +part of what is spent in the mad destruction of +a great war were spent on some such constructive +work, ten times the number of people now employed +in agriculture might be placed productively on the +land, and the output of wealth and home-grown +food (so important to our island) might be +enormously increased.</p> + +<p class='c006'>About nine years ago—in 1906—I began to pull +the farm lads and men together to form a little +Club at Millthorpe. For some years we had a difficulty +in finding a place for it, and had to be content +with a very small room in a cottage. But here +came in the advantage of the small holder. A +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>silversmith who lives in the locality—the only man +beside myself who has two or three acres of freehold +and who is not tied to a landlord—having joined +the Club, and seeing our difficulty, offered a fine +and large barn belonging to him for our use. If +it had not been for him we should have had to go, +cap in hand, to some local owner or cleric and +could never have developed freely. As it is, the +place has been a great success. Managed in an +easy-going sort of way by the men themselves (and +I am happy to say that my share now of the management +is very small) the Club has taken its own lines +quite naturally. In order to avoid ill-feeling and +competition with the public-house—which is close at +hand—we have no drink, except tea and coffee. +Whist, lectures, readings, whist drives, dances, socials, +billiards, are the chief amusements, and the place +serves occasionally for discussion of local affairs. +Theatricals, in a small way, now and then. And +the balance of our weekly subscriptions goes in winter +to a Christmas supper, and in summer to an excursion +by rail or brake.</p> + +<p class='c011'>With small people secure in their tenure, such +Clubs would grow up pretty abundantly and would +become the start-points of co-operative movements, +creameries, agricultural Banks, and so forth. The +great thing is that they should <i>not</i> be managed by +benevolent superiors, for the management of their +own concerns is after all the chief and most important +item of a people’s education. There is however +a place in our countrysides—and a need—for +people of a rather wider knowledge and outlook +than the general rustics to come and live among +them simply as friends (and not as benefactors). +People of this kind can certainly contribute <i>something</i>—even +though their ‘wider knowledge’ be as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>a rule rather vague and bookish. They have information +about what is going on elsewhere, and they +often are good at organizing. A new <i>kind</i> of parson, +democratic-minded and really in touch with the +people, and not attached to any ‘church,’ and a +man with a <i>little</i> leisure at his command, might be +greatly helpful. Why do not the thousands of young +men (or women) who are thus qualified rush in to +fill this void?</p> + +<p class='c006'>At one time, as I think I have already mentioned, +I was a member of the Parish Council, but +the hopelessness of getting any result therefrom, +combined with the waste of time connected with +it, caused me after a few years to abandon the +position. The four or five farmers, all in terror +of their landlords, and the parson (bound by golden +chains to the Lord of the Manor) formed a solid +phalanx against any progressive proposal. Perhaps +I ought to have fought things out a little more, but +wrangling is an occupation which I detest, and to +fight questions to a practical finish always means +the expenditure of much time—time which I with +my agricultural, literary and other labours could ill +afford. The one prevailing idea with the Council +was not to spend <i>any</i> money if possible; and even +the few shillings necessary for the repair of a small +length of public footpath would be debated over +with a tenacity and miserliness of outlook which +made one despair; while the Vicar (not without +laudable presence of mind) would resign himself to +slumber in the Chair!</p> + +<p class='c011'>About the only thing of use I was able to do was +to save from loss or destruction the Award Book—that +is the book which records the enclosure, early last +century, of the Common Lands of Holmesfield Parish, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>and specifies the details of their assignment to the +various proprietors then holding land in the parish. +And this I only did with difficulty and after the +labours of many months. When the Award was +completed (in 1820) the said Award Book naturally +and rightly was handed over, not to the Church or +the Squire, but to one of the Trustees who represented +the Parish generally—a farmer, who of course +kept the book at his farm under lock and key, but +with permission to the parishioners to inspect it at +convenient seasons. In course of time the farmer +died, and his son following in the same farm, +became custodian of the book. Later on and after +many years, the son died, and the son’s widow became +custodian. By that time most people in the parish +had forgotten, or were utterly ignorant of the +existence of such a book. It might easily have +happened that the widow or <i>her</i> son, migrating to +another part of the country, should have taken the +book with them among their household goods—in +which case it might have been lost for ever to our +Parish. Such or something similar <i>has</i> happened +frequently of course. It happened to the Minute +Book of the Courts Baron of Holmesfield—a manuscript +record of the meetings of the said Court all +the way from 1588 to 1800, and a most valuable +and interesting document. In some unknown way +the book disappeared; but by a piece of good luck, +it has now come into the possession of the Free +Library at Sheffield, where it can easily be inspected, +and where it is safer perhaps than it would have +been in the village to which it refers.</p> + +<p class='c011'>To return to our Award Book, the Parish Councils +Acts very wisely gave all such documents into the +custody of the Parish Council to be kept in a Parish +room or Chest. But the difficulty was to make +<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>our Council take any active interest in the fate of +the book. Moreover it possessed no Parish Room +or Parish chest, and when the question came before +it of having a chest made, even that appeared to +some of the members a serious and unnecessary +expense. Questions of the dimensions of the chest, +the material of which it should be constructed, the +number of locks it should carry, the selection of +the joiner who should be entrusted with the precious +work and so forth, were endlessly debated; the +Council meetings took place only at long intervals +and it seemed at last as if the chest never <i>would</i> +get made. I mention these details merely to show +the kind of thing that happens in country villages. +Meanwhile the Vicar went to the said widow and +(not without remonstrance from her) succeeded in +obtaining the Award Book; and placed it in the +<i>Vestry</i>. A faction then arose in the Council who +maintained that the book was quite secure in the +Vestry safe; and that no Parish Chest was needed! +It had then to be pointed out that the Act did not +<i>allow</i> such books to be kept in the Vestry, and +that the Council would be responsible if it did not +keep the thing in its own custody. And so the +game went on. Ultimately after a full year of +similar imbecility, the chest really got itself made; +the Award Book and some other documents were +placed within, and now repose there in waiting for +the Day of Judgment. Exhausted by the labours +connected with the affair, and hopeless of ever +getting any useful activity out of the P.C., I shortly +afterwards retired from it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Of course these conditions are not the same in +all parishes. Where there are mining or artisan +populations there is often a good deal of briskness +and movement; but in the agricultural regions and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>the South of England affairs are somewhat as I +have described. The District Councils are a shade +better than the Parish Councils; but the membership +of them falls largely into the hands of small +shopkeepers and a middling class of folk who are +very philistine and wanting in æsthetic perception, +and as a rule rather ignorant except in matters of +business. They make hard and fast rules and regulations—often +suggested by the conditions existing +in the jerry-built slum-areas of the smaller towns—and +by enforcing these regulations in country districts +where they are not needed do seriously hamper +the expansion of rural life. Such are some of the +regulations about the height and cubic space of +rooms, which desirable though they be in slum-tenements +are quite out of place and the cause of +needlessly high rents in country cottages; such also +the barring of wooden dwellings, on account of fire, +in many rural and even isolated regions where there +is no public danger from this cause; and again the +vexatious restrictions set upon the use of vans and +tents. In these respects the work of the District +Councils is really helping towards the increase of +an existing evil, the depopulation of the countrysides.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On the other hand the composition of these +Councils makes them absurdly deferent to big commercial +and aristocratic interests, and the money of +the ratepayers gets poured out like water on schemes +in which under cover of public works private interests +are largely concerned. As I have had occasion to +explain in the Fabian Tract above-mentioned—<cite>The +Village and the Landlord</cite>—our local District Council, +having decided that a reservoir was needed, applied +to the then Duke of Rutland for the purchase of +a suitable area on the moors above us. The land +<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>in question had before 1820 been part of the +Common Lands of the parish, and was now, as the +ducal private property, paying rates on an <i>estimated +rental</i> of less than 2s. 6d. per acre. It could not +therefore be supposed to be worth much more than +£3 per acre, capital value; and it might <i>almost</i> +have been expected that in consideration of the +history of the Enclosure transactions, and of the +additional fact that the land was wanted for an +important public purpose (water supply), the area +necessary for the reservoir would have been granted +free. Far from that happening, as a matter of fact the +amount actually charged was at a rate of about £150 +per acre! The sad thing about such a levy on the +public purse is not only that the ducal people should +have charged it, but that the District Council should +have paid it! If the latter had had the gumption +to offer a bold resistance, to decide for themselves +what was a reasonable payment, and to bring the +whole matter before the public, the case for the +former would probably have collapsed. But there’s +the rub—the want of spirit and pluck in these public +bodies; and considering these and similar things +one seems to see very plainly that what really matters +in the life of a nation is not so much the exact form +of its institutions as the general level of education, +alertness, and public spirit among its people. With +these latter advantages defective institutions may still +be made to serve; without them the best will soon +become corrupt. It may however be said that some +institutions are naturally more favorable than others +to the growth of public spirit, and that is a +consideration worth remembering.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One of the few native institutions of long standing +in this locality is the Well-dressing—which takes place +in some of the neighboring villages once a year, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>during the feast-week of the village, and is accompanied +with dancing and other festivities. The village +fountain or spring is decorated with flowers—sometimes +in quite elaborate and ornamental designs—and +the festival evidently dates from very early or +pre-Christian times when the divinities of the streams +and water-sources were recognized and worshipped. +When I first came, in 1883, into these parts, there +were along all the lane sides numbers of the most +charming stone cisterns and water-troughs bubbling +with clean water and overhung with maiden-hair +ferns; and it was part of the habits of the country-folk +to keep these places in order—a joy to human +beings and to animals. Now we have a reservoir +as above-mentioned. The Well-dressings truly +remain as a yearly function; but the divinities +whom they used to celebrate have fled. The cisterns +and troughs all over the country are neglected. They +are cracked and dried up and full of potsherds and +salmon-tins; wayfaring men and animals go thirsty; +and the public spirit and service of the water-gods +has vanished. We are told that water conducted +through miles of iron tubes and lengths of lead +piping is much more ‘sanitary’ than the water from +field springs and wells. It may be. But I prefer +the latter. At one time there were so many cases +of lead-poisoning in the Sheffield district, traceable +to lead connections, that the matter excited serious +attention. It was decided that the trouble was due +to a certain acid in the moor water, which dissolved +the lead, and consequently large filter-beds charged +with chalk and lime were made in connection with +the reservoirs, which neutralized the acid. The +water was freed from this danger, but it became +saturated with lime; and the people died from stone +in the bladder instead of lead-poisoning! Personally +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>I would prefer to take my risk of a microbe in a +flowing cistern. And with an alert country-population, +assisted by an occasional inspector, such a risk +would certainly be small.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But we are told that public spirit ought to make +us join these reservoir schemes; and pressure is +put on us by the ‘authorities’ to do so. I do not +by any means agree. Though no doubt there are +cases in which local storage is advisable or necessary, +the unbridled transfer of water over immense +distances is attended by serious evils. The beautiful +Thirlmere is turned into a mere water-tank in order +to supply Manchester; the lovely dales of Derbyshire +are disfigured beyond recognition so that they +may quench the thirst of Birmingham. In other +words, in order to encourage the growth of a hideous +and dirty city with an unclean and poverty-stricken +population a tract of clean and gracious land a +hundred miles off is cleared of <i>its</i> population and +also rendered hideous! And all this at a huge and +incalculable expense. We do not want these great +congested and unhealthy centres, and we do want +our streams and springs and the gods who dwell +among them. Let the people come out for the water +if they want it; but let them come with forethought +and reverence.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Another native institution managed, like the well-dressing, +by the people themselves is the Ploughing +Match. There <i>is</i> a Farmers’ Association which of +course ought to be a kind of Trade-union for the +promotion and protection of farming interests. +Perhaps once it was alive; but now and ever since +I have known anything about the matter it has +become hopelessly futile and decadent. It has a +dinner at some public-house once a year and gets +thoroughly drunk—and that is about all it does! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>But the Ploughing-Match Association, which was +originally I suppose an offshoot of the Farmers’ +Association, <i>is</i> alive—possibly because it has nothing +whatever to do with politics. The farmers and their +sons and the small holders (such as there are) join +in and organize the affair; and it is a pretty sight +to see in two adjacent fields perhaps twenty teams +of men or boys with their shining ploughs and their +beribboned horses going to and fro each on their +appointed strip of land; the turning of the animals +at the extremities; the clicks and calls; the marvellous +accuracy of the furrows; the groups of +critics and the judges. Going among them all one +perceives what splendid material there is here among +the English countrysides; and also one grieves to +think how it is paralysed from development and +expansion by our absurd land-system and generally +apathetic way of conducting ourselves towards the +most important of all industries. We have at +Holmesfield the champion ploughman of the neighborhood, +who takes the prizes at the village matches +for many miles round. He is a great friend of +mine. And I am also proud to say that at our +Association Committee meetings my professional +opinion is sometimes consulted, and I may occasionally +be seen amid the fumes of smoke and beer +occupying the Chair and keeping a dozen or twenty +farmers in order, or bringing them back to the +practical point of discussion when (as they generally +do) they wander afar from it—a sufficiently humorous +situation for a so-called “poet and prophet”!</p> + +<p class='c006'>But the most important village institution after +all—and more important perhaps than the Church—is +the Public-house. Here is the natural centre of +the Village life, and here the village Opinion—if +<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>there is any—is collected and consolidated. It is a +great pleasure to me to sit occasionally in our “Royal +Oak” among the rustics whom I know so well. +Their quaint humour, their shrewd judgments, their +shy silences, their naughty stories, are a continual +recreation. Unfortunately, like so much else in rural +life, the Pub. has in general been allowed to go to +decay; and instead of being the village meeting-place +and centre of sociability it has too often become +a mere resort of drink and imbecility. “Tied” to +a Brewery, and at an exorbitant rent, the Publican +has no alternative but to sell as much as he can +of the vile decoction supplied to him. He encourages +booze but does not encourage sociable converse. The +Brewer rises to wealth and obtains a seat in the +House of Lords; the villager sinks slowly but +surely poisoned in body and atrophied in mind, and +dies in a ditch.</p> + +<p class='c011'>One of the very first things to be done for the +restoration of the rural life is the reorganization of +the Public-house—or rather its liberation. The +clutch of the Brewers upon the drink trade should +be cut off decisively and finally. The manufacture +of beer ought either to be a State monopoly or it +ought to be absolutely free, without licence, and +subject only to a severe inspection. There has been +a great deal of talk lately about the intemperance +of the workers, and the abolition or serious restriction +of the drink traffic; but the real root of the +evil (certainly as regards beer) is the badness and +poisonous character of the liquor supplied. See to +it that that is clean and wholesome—that the lager-beers, +small beers, teas and temperance drinks are +not sophisticated with harmful chemicals—and for +the rest leave the houses free. Leave the publican +to use his good sense and authority, and make him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>responsible for not keeping order. If that policy +is carried out there will not be much to complain +of. The sale of actual <i>spirits</i> in drinking shops is +another question, and that might well be restricted +or abolished.</p> + +<p class='c011'>The village pub. ought to be a place where pleasant +and decent refreshment of various kinds is provided—especially +of drink which is a first necessity for +tired workers. It ought to be clean and fairly comfortable +and provided with games, papers, and +similar means of recreation. On the other hand it +should have no suspicion of genteel or missionary +purpose about it. If the manual worker cannot talk +freely and feel himself at home in the place he +decidedly will not come to it; and it is certainly +better that he should be a bit rough and rowdy than +that he should feel that he is being ‘improved.’ +What the rural worker wants above all—and what +it is very necessary that he should have—is a place +where he can be at ease, converse freely, exchange +ideas, and <i>develop out of his own roots</i>. The town +worker has now, in his trade unions, his various clubs +and societies, got something of the kind. The rural +worker is a poor lost thing; he has no centre of +growth. The Church is absolutely of no use to +him in that respect; for the Parson practically +paralyses his flock. The Chapel is better, for there +the Chapel-folk organize themselves and carry out +in an authentic way many a little scheme for their +own satisfaction or entertainment. The Village +Club and the Village Co-operative society are just +beginning in many places to show an independent +and progressive life; but after all the Village Pub. +strikes its roots deepest and widest, and if on a +healthy basis is the natural meeting-place where all +these other movements germinate and from whence +they spring.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span> + <h2 class='c005'>XVII<br> HOW THE WORLD LOOKS AT SEVENTY</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c006'>I remember having often wondered, in earlier days, +what would be the answer to this question. And +now I have the privilege of myself standing on the +pinnacle of age—and of being in the position where +some kind of verdict may be given.</p> + +<p class='c011'>There are two verses about David and Solomon—whose +origin I have not been able to trace, but +which run as follows:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>King David and King Solomon</div> + <div class='line in2'>Led very merry lives</div> + <div class='line'>With many many concubines</div> + <div class='line in2'>And many many wives.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>But when old age came on them</div> + <div class='line in2'>With many many qualms,</div> + <div class='line'>King Solomon wrote the Proverbs</div> + <div class='line in2'>And David wrote the Psalms.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Perhaps this gives the most general and accepted +view on the subject—a view of old age as something +a little dull, a little ineffectual, consoling itself +with verses and good advice and other second-hand +joys. On the whole perhaps a fairly correct view; and +yet I cannot but think that it misses something very +important, something which in earlier days one does +not associate with old age—the sense of adventure. +Youth is full of acknowledged adventure; the campaigns +<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>of Love and of War are thrilling and absorbing; +but youth does not know—or at any rate only +faintly surmises—how absorbing may be the great +adventure of Death.</p> + +<p class='c011'>On the whole I am struck by the singularly <i>little</i> +difference I feel in myself, as I realize it now, from +what I was when a boy—say of eighteen or twenty. +In the deeps of course. Superficially there are +plenty of differences, but they relate mostly to superficial +things like success in games, examinations and +so forth. I used to go and sit on the beach at +Brighton and dream, and now I sit on the shore of +human life and dream practically the same dreams. +I remember about the time that I mention—or it +may have been a trifle later—coming to the distinct +conclusion that there were only two things really +worth living for—the glory and beauty of Nature, +and the glory and beauty of human love and friendship. +And to-day I still feel the same. What else +indeed <i>is</i> there? All the nonsense about riches, +fame, distinction, ease, luxury and so forth—how little +does it amount to! It really is not worth wasting +time over. These things are so obviously second-hand +affairs, useful only and in so far as they may +lead to the first two, and short of their doing that +liable to become odious and harmful. To become +united and in line with the beauty and vitality of +Nature (but, Lord help us! we are far enough off +from that at present), and to become united with +those we love—what other ultimate object in life <i>is</i> +there? Surely all these other things—these games +and examinations, these churches and chapels, these +district councils and money markets, these top-hats +and telephones and even the general necessity of +earning one’s living—if they are not ultimately for +that, <i>what are they for</i>?</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>At any rate that is how I feel about it now. I +feel that the object of life at seventy is practically +the same as it was at twenty. Only one thing has +been added. One thing. Beneath the surface waves +and storms of youth, beneath the backward and +forward fluctuations, deep down, there has been +added the calm of inner realization and union. I +know now that these two primordial and foundational +things (or perhaps they are one) <i>are</i> there. Our +union with Nature and humanity is a <i>fact</i>, which—whether +we recognize it or not—is at the base of +our lives; slumbering, yet ready to wake in our +consciousness when the due time arrives.</p> + +<p class='c011'>With this assurance one certainly discovers that +life—even in old age—may be delightful. What one +loses in the keenness and passion of sensual and +external things one gains in the inward world—in +calm and strength and the deep certainties of life. +One can hardly expect to have it both ways. We +may concentrate mainly (though not exclusively) on +the outer life, or we may concentrate mainly on +the inner life, but hardly on both at the same time. +And the latter alternative has its advantages. +Socrates, in reply to a friend who condoled with him +on the waning of his sexual passion, asked whether +he would not consider a man happy who had escaped +from the clutches of a fierce tiger. “Certainly I +should,” answered the friend. “Then why,” retorted +Socrates, “do you not congratulate instead +of commiserating <i>me</i>?”</p> + +<p class='c006'>I find there are compensations and consolations +in old age. People feel kindly towards you—partly +because they consider you harmless and not likely +to injure them, partly because they are not envious +of your condition. They pity you a little in fact—which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>pleases them and does no harm to you. I +find I am a little hard of hearing, and people are +good enough—in fact they are compelled—to speak +up and speak distinctly. They have the pleasure +of helping me over my deafness, and I have the +satisfaction of getting them out of their mumbling +habits of conversation—a satisfaction so great that +were I really not a bit deaf I feel that I should +have to pretend to be! As I think I have said +before<a id='r34'></a><a href='#f34' class='c012'><sup>[34]</sup></a> old people and infirm folk and chronic +invalids and the like often get needlessly depressed +over the impression that they are a burden and an +affliction to their friends, whereas in very truth by +calling out the sympathies, the energy, the resource +and the consideration of those around them they are +really conferring the greatest of benefits; and many +a household is really supported and held together +by the one who to all outward appearance seems to +be the most frail and useless member of it. As +Lâo-tsze says “The thirty spokes of a carriage-wheel +uniting at the nave are made useful by the +hole in the centre,<a id='r35'></a><a href='#f35' class='c012'><sup>[35]</sup></a> where nothing exists,” and “To +teach without words and to be useful without action, +few among men are capable of this.”</p> + +<p class='c006'>After the fuss and flurry of all the good folk who +go about “doing good,” to find that you can perhaps +be most useful by being a “hole in the centre” +is very refreshing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Unfortunately the world is very unwilling to allow +this privilege, and as a rule in a quite automatic +way accords to the aged a good deal of respect +and influence, pushing them up into positions of +power and notoriety. This is all right if you are +quite worthy of it, but dangerous if you are not. +And naturally if you <i>desire</i> power (and notoriety) +you are not likely to be worthy of it.</p> + +<div id='i335' class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i335.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +<div class='ic001'> +<p>E. C. (1910), AGE 66.<br> <br> (<cite>Photo: Elliott & Fry.</cite>)</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>On August 29, 1914, being my seventieth birthday, +some of my friends were good enough to +present me with a congratulatory Address couched +in very friendly and affectionate terms. Though I +cannot say that I desired the thing beforehand—seeing +that there is always something painful in the +very idea of being singled out in any such way—yet +I must confess that, being done, it was a consolation +and a pleasure to me.<a id='r36'></a><a href='#f36' class='c012'><sup>[36]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c006'>There is one thing however that I think I have +not sufficiently dwelt on as a valid and permanent +object of Life—though perhaps in some subtle way +it may be implied in what I have said before. I +mean Self-Expression. Constructive expression of +oneself is one of the greatest joys, and one of the +greatest <i>needs</i> of life; and as long as one’s Life +exists—in this or any other sphere—so long I imagine +will that need be present, and the joy in its fulfilment. +It is a foundation-urge of all Creation. At +first sight this seems contrary, and indeed hostile, +to the hole-in-the-centre theory; but probably it will +be found not to be so. Probably it is only a +question of the <i>depth</i> at which the Self is functioning. +Near the surface the self is very definite and +constructive in <i>this</i> or <i>that</i> direction; it is limited +in its aims and operations, and so far its activity +seems to be at variance with other aims and operations. +At the centre it is neither this nor that, +because it is All. It vanishes from sight because +it has become the Whole.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>Most healthy work is generated from a desire +for, or an effort towards, self-expression. If one’s +feet suffer from cold and exposure to injury one +makes boots to protect and cover them. If boots +prove painful and confining one designs sandals in +order to free them. Having made these for oneself +first, other people desire them and adopt the same +devices. One’s work, begun for a private purpose +and to satisfy one’s own wants, is continued for +public ends and becomes a kind of extended selfishness. +It is the same with the institutions of society. +Finding that they maim and confine you personally, +the best thing you can do is to liberate yourself by +reshaping them. In reshaping them you liberate +others, and are accounted a reformer and general +benefactor. But I imagine that no one is really +a useful reformer who does not begin the work +from his own private need, since that is the only +way in which he can understand the true inwardness +of the work to be done. And the accusation +of selfishness, which may be preferred against him, +saves him from the awful danger of becoming, or +posing as, a public benefactor.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is truly wonderful to see what activity, what +enthusiasm, vast numbers of people throw into +public work of one kind or another. Let us hope +they all do so from the underlying ground of some +personal need which makes them unhappy in the +existing conditions and impels them for their own +personal satisfaction to alter those conditions. If +so their work will probably be healthful and successful. +It will not wait on results but will bring +its own results with it. Still there is a paradox in +all such action. I cannot personally be comfortable +in a society which makes a fetish, say, of what +H. G. Wells calls The Misery of Boots. Therefore +<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>I work for a future society where people shall go +barefoot or freely wear such footgear as suits them. +But by the time such state of society arrives, where +shall “I” be? That is the question. What is +the good of my working for a state of things which +will certainly not come in my lifetime? What is +the impelling force which <i>causes</i> me so to work +when it would be so much easier not to work, and +merely to let things slide? If, as one must suppose, +it is something organic in Nature, it must be that +I “myself” <i>will</i> be there. I, the superficial one, +am working now for the other “I,” the deeper one—who +is also really present even at this moment +(although he lies low and says nothing about it) and +who in due time will consume the fruits which he +is now preparing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>I find at the age of seventy that I am getting +nearer to that place in the centre where nothing +exists and yet all is done—and <i>that</i> I suppose is +satisfactory. A very simple round of life contents +me. As long as I can have my friend (or friends) +and my little corner of Nature, and my little pastime +of constructive work, I really do not know what to +wish for more. (And surely every one ought to +be able to command these.)</p> + +<p class='c006'>We are up—my friend and I—at about 7 a.m. in +summer, about 8.0 in winter. In summer a wash +and a sunbath on the lawn, for half an hour, are +very much in the order of the day. Then, for me, +there is my study to tidy up and dust and (in winter) +my fire to light; there is the front of the house +to sweep, wood to chop, and so forth. George has +his kitchen to attend to, coals to get in, the chickens +to feed, and preparations to make for the work of +the day—baking or washing or whatever it may be. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>I remember the time when I used to think that to +get up early, perhaps by candlelight, go down into +a dishevelled sitting-room, clean out the grate and +light up the fire would surely be the most dismal +of occupations; as a matter of fact I find these +little preliminary duties quite interesting. They stir +one’s limbs and one’s interest in the world, and +help to peel off the thin but clinging veil of sleep.</p> + +<p class='c011'>By 8.30 I find I can settle down to work, either +in my study or, if the weather allows, outside in +my little veranda or porch. I thus get a couple of +hours fairly undisturbed. At 10.30 we have breakfast—or +what is called ‘brunch,’ a combination of +breakfast and lunch—a good meal of coffee and milk, +oatmeal porridge, an omelet, stewed fruit, or similar +provender, and which one enjoys all the more for +its being the first in the day. Brunch and reading +the daily paper occupy an hour; and at 11.30 I +am able to start work again and go on to 1.30 or +2.0. I thus get a good four hours or more in the +morning for solid literary work, to some extent +broken into at times by mere business matters and +correspondence, but generally the most satisfactory +period of work in the day.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At two or so one goes easy. By the ruse of +‘brunch’ one has avoided that deadly snare, the +midday meal. Is it not Thoreau who says that one +should pass by the one o’clock dinner “tied to the +mast, like Ulysses, and deaf to the voice of the +Siren”? Certainly George and I never cease to +congratulate ourselves on this arrangement by which +the painful density and lethargy of that period is +escaped. It seems to place the day in its proper +order and perspective; and we only regret that +most people owing to professional hours and public +duties are not able to conform to it. From 2.0 or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>2.30 to 5.0 one can make a change. There are oddments +of work to do in the garden, there are little +outdoor renewals and repairs round the house, there +are visitors and casual guests; at 4.0 or so there +is the sociability of afternoon tea. At 5.0 there +are letters to get ready for the post, which goes +at 6.30. At 7.0 there is supper, which is generally +a rather more substantial meal than brunch. Sometimes +tea and supper are combined in one intermediate +meal, which of course goes by the name of +‘tupper.’ In the evening there are friends to see, +books to read, notes to make; there is the public-house, +which is an unfailing joy, and the farm-lads’ +Club, which is always homely and cheering. What +can one wish for more? It is hard to say.</p> + +<p class='c006'>Yet I ought to say—and it would be less than +candid not to say—that there have been times all +through my life when the necessity of escaping into +an altogether bigger world than that provided by +my native land has come upon me with a kind of +Berserker rage. As I think I have said, I come +of Cornish ancestry—and my private opinion is that +I was left on the coast of Cornwall some three +thousand years ago by a Phœnician trader. At any +rate the leaden skies of England, and something (if I +may say so) rather grey and leaden about the <i>people</i>, +have since early days had the effect of making me +feel not quite at home in my own country. I +longed for more sunshine, and for something corresponding +to sunshine in human nature—more gaiety, +vivacity of heart and openness to ideas. But everything +has its compensation, and the result of being +pinned down so much to a limited and local life on +the land has been that every three or four years I +have been able to ‘stick it’ no longer, and have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>been compelled in the intervals of my work to make +a dash for some warmer and brighter climate. In +this way it has come about that I have seen quite +a little of other lands—not only of the usual resorts +in Switzerland and Italy, but of places like Morocco, +Sicily, Corsica, Spain, besides (as already mentioned) +the United States and Ceylon and India. Having +a talent for economical travel I have been able to +do this at singularly small expense. And my knowledge +of agriculture and of the working life of the +people at home has in such cases opened up a world +of interest in the comparison of these with the corresponding +things abroad—a world which as a rule +is a sealed book to the ordinary tourist. In many +cases my companions have themselves been manual +workers, and I have found the vivacity of their +interest in foreign fields and crops or in town-trades +and workshops both encouraging and amazing.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At the age of seventy one does not bother so +much about the exceptional feats, about great +exploits, the climbing of the highest mountains. The +ordinary levels of life seem sufficient. I confess +that excessive cleverness and all that sort of thing +bores me rather than otherwise. I seem to see +in the general average of human life, in the ordinary +daily needs, a steady force pushing mankind onwards, +or rather, gradually unfolding through mankind—the +liberation of a core of goodness and worth which +is undeniable, impossible to ignore, and daily coming +more and more into evidence. I say this deliberately +and with full recognition all the time of the vast +masses of cheap and nasty people as well as of cheap +and nasty things which are washed up in the ordinary +current of this our modern life, and with recognition +also of the huge whirlpools of popular madness +which occasionally arise, and which accompany crises +<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>like that from which we are now suffering [1915]. +Perhaps the madness and the blind passion—the +loosening of the torrents of hate and revenge, and +of the pent-up waters of prejudice and ignorance—are, +after all, better than the dreary stagnation of +the cheap and nasty. The whole commercial period +through which we, here in the West, have been +passing for the last hundred years has undoubtedly +bred, both in men and goods, a lamentable commonplaceness +and cheapness—a low level and a paltry +standard of human value. Perhaps even the madness +of warfare is better than that.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is curious that for the last twenty years or +more there has been a general feeling—especially +among the Socialists and Internationalists of the +various countries—that society was approaching a +critical period of transformation. It had become +obvious that the existing order of things—in Government, +Law, Finance, Industry, Commerce, Morality, +Religion, the Capitalist Wage system, the Rivalry +of nation with nation, the administration and cultivation +of the Land, and so forth—could not continue +much longer. In each one and all of these matters +we have been heading towards an <i>impasse</i>, a block, +a point at which further progress in the old direction +must cease, and a new departure begin. We have +seen this; and yet we have been unable to say, for +the most part, or even surmise, <i>how</i> the change +would come, what catastrophe would upset the +balance of our highly artificial Commercial Civilization, +or in what way a new order of life, and +a more human and rational order, might begin to +establish itself. The Catastrophe has come. We +are already in the welter of a World-war which in +magnitude exceeds anything that has ever occurred +in the past, or even been imagined. The nations +<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>are in the melting-pot; the institutions of society +are threatened in every direction. But at present +we are still unable to see the outcome, or even to +guess what it will be. The lineaments of the new +world are hidden from us. That the outcome will +be far, far greater and grander than we now suppose, +I do not doubt—also that it will take far longer +than we generally think to define itself.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Beneath all the madness of the present conflict—the +raging passions, the insane folly, the frantic +delusions, the devilish concentration of all the wit +and ingenuity of man towards purposes of death +and torture, there is, I firmly believe, a method and +a meaning. A new life is preparing to show itself—coming +to the surface of society, as it were, out of +the deeps, showing indeed the strangest and most +violent agitation of that surface just before its appearance. +Having lived so long as I have done among +the downright manual workers of our towns and +the agricultural rustics—primitives as they are in +many ways and belonging to a period “before civilization”—I +do not feel at all alarmed. I know +that the lives of these good solid folk, founded as +they are upon the primal facts of Nature, will not +in any case suffer a very great change. If the +whole of our Banking and Financial system collapsed +and fell in, if world-wide Commerce came +to a standstill, if the Capital necessary for huge +armaments and general ironworks was not forthcoming, +if Law and Government were paralysed, old-age +insurances ceased to be paid, and Landlords +were unable to collect their rents—if all this and +much more happened, my friend who ploughs the +fields near my cottage would go out next morning +with his team to his usual work, and scarcely know +the difference. <cite>If anything he would decidedly feel +<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>more cheerful and hopeful.</cite> Some other friend who +forges and tempers table-knives by the score would +continue to forge and temper them. The knives +would still be wanted, the power to make them would +still be there. And if at any point combined labour +were needed, as to build a workshop or carry +through a steel-making process, the men who do +these things now in forced and servile toil under +the Capitalist system would do them ten times better +and more heartily in free co-operation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>No, if all this jerry-built cheapjack Commercial +Civilization collapsed it would not much matter. The +longer I live the more I am convinced of its essential +pettiness and unimportance. The great foundational +types, the real workers of the world—whether in +England or Germany or France, or Turkey or +Bulgaria or Egypt—will remain, and indeed must +remain because the primal facts of Nature, the sun +and the earth and the needs of human life, continually +generate them. They will remain and, once +freed (as one may hope) from the burden of the +futile and idiotic superstructure which they have to +support, will rise to a far finer standard of being +than they can now realize. The cheap and aimless +types belonging to the mercantile and middle classes +will disappear with the world to which they belong.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Let me say however, for the consolation of some, +that it is not necessary to suppose that the transformation +of Civilization of which I speak—and which +is even now preparing—must necessarily mean that +all Law and Government, and world-wide Commerce +and Finance and huge organization of Industry, and +even present-day Art and Morality and Religion, +will collapse and become non-existent. In a sense +they will do so, and in a sense they will not. “In +the twinkling of an eye they will be changed.” In +<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>some sense the outer forms of these things will +remain; but the Spirit will be changed; and so +greatly changed that their shapes also will be profoundly +modified. When Industry exists really for +the supply of good and useful things and not for +the manufacture of profit; when High Finance is +not for gambling, but for the insurance and security +of everybody; when Courts of Law are for the +uplifting and not for the downcasting of criminals, +and so on; then the forms of these institutions will +be as different from what they are now as the organs +of a Dragonfly are different from those of the Waterbeetle +from which it sprang.</p> + +<p class='c011'>But before this great and wonderful Transformation +takes place, there must—it is abundantly +evident—be great sacrifices. No such huge change +could happen without. Some of the functions and +activities of the present Society must perish; and +with them must perish those who are engaged in +these functions. Thousands and millions of individuals +must die in the mere effort to create and +establish a new collective order. Heroisms, exceeding +those of the past, will be needed and will be +supplied. We need not fear. We know the great +heart of humanity.</p> + +<p class='c011'>It is amazing to see, in the present war, the high +spirits, the courage, the devotion, the loyalty to each +other of the combatants in each nation; and these +things would be utterly unintelligible were it not for +the fact that each people (and we need make no exception) +thinks and believes in some obscure way that +the cause for which it is fighting is a noble and +an honorable one. Terrible as war is, and terrible +the apparent folly of mankind which allows it to +continue, still it is to my mind obvious that those +engaged in it could not give their lives, as they so +<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>constantly do, not only with conscious devotion to +some high purpose, but even with an instinctive +exultation and savage joy in the very act of death, +if they were not impelled to do so by the insurgence +of a greater life within—a life within each one more +vivid and even more tremendous than that which he +throws away. The willing sacrifice of life, and the +ecstasy of it, would be unintelligible if Death did +not indeed mean Transformation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In my little individual way I experience something +of the same kind. I feel a curious sense of +joy in observing—as at my age one is sometimes +compelled to do—the natural and inevitable decadence +of some portion of the bodily organism, the failures +of sight and hearing, the weakening of muscles, the +aberrations even of memory—a curious sense of +liberation and of obstacles removed. I acknowledge +that the experience—the satisfaction and the queer +sense of elation—seems utterly unreasonable, and not +to be explained by any of the ordinary theories of +life; but it is there, and it may, after all, have +some meaning.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span> + <h2 class='c005'>APPENDICES</h2> +</div> +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span> + <h3 class='c016'>CONGRATULATORY LETTER</h3> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>(<cite>August 29, 1914</cite>).</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>In offering you our congratulations on the completion of your +seventieth year, we would express to you (and we speak, we are +sure, the thoughts of a very large number of other readers and +friends) the feelings of admiration and gratitude with which we +regard your life-work.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Your books, with no aid but that of their own originality and +power, have found their way among all classes of people in our +own and many other lands, and they have everywhere brought with +them a message of fellowship and gladness. At a time when +society is confused and overburdened by its own restlessness and +artificiality, your writings have called us back to the vital facts +of Nature, to the need of simplicity and calmness; of just dealing +between man and man; of free and equal citizenship; of love, +beauty, and humanity in our daily life.</p> + +<p class='c011'>We thank you for the genius with which you have interpreted +great spiritual truths; for the deep conviction underlying all your +teaching that wisdom must be sought not only in the study of +external nature, but also in a fuller knowledge of the human heart; +for your insistence upon the truth that there can be no real wealth +or happiness for the individual apart from the welfare of his +fellows; for your fidelity and countless services to the cause of the +poor and friendless; for the light you have thrown on so many +social problems; and for the equal courage, delicacy, and directness +with which you have discussed various questions of sex, the +study of which is essential to a right understanding of human +nature.</p> + +<p class='c011'>We have spoken of your many readers and friends, but in your +case, to a degree seldom attained by writers, your readers are your +friends, for your works have that rare quality which reveals “the +man behind the book,” and that personal attraction which results +only from the widest sympathy and fellow-feeling. For this, most +of all, we thank you—the spirit of comradeship which has endeared +your name to all who know you, and to many who to yourself +are unknown.</p> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span> + <h3 class='c016'>REPLY</h3> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-r c004'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Millthorpe, Holmesfield,</span></div> + <div class='line in10'><span class='sc'>Derbyshire</span>,</div> + <div class='line in16'><i>1st September, 1914</i>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>In thanking my friends on the occasion of my seventieth birthday +(29th August) for the many hearty letters of congratulation +I have received, and in particular for the widely signed and very +friendly Address which on the same occasion has been presented to +me, I should like to say a few words.</p> + +<p class='c011'>At a moment like this when Europe is plunged in a monstrous +war one naturally does not wish to dwell on one’s own affairs. Yet +some of us who have worked for thirty years or more in connection +with the great Labour Movement at home and abroad may perhaps +be excused if we cannot help looking on the strange events of the +last few weeks in a somewhat personal light. For those events +surely connect themselves by a kind of logical fatality with that +very Labour Movement. They seem to point to the break-up all +over Europe of the old framework of society, and (like the +Napoleonic wars of a century ago) to bear within themselves the +seeds of a new order of things.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Insane commercial and capitalistic rivalry, the piling up of power +in the hands of mere speculators and financiers, and the actual +trading for dividends in the engines of death—all these inevitable +results of our present industrial system—have now for years been +leading up to this war; and in that sense indeed all the nations +concerned are responsible for it—England no less than the others. +But the mad vanity of the Prussian military clique, and its brutal +eagerness for imperial expansion at all costs, have precipitated the +fatal move. The German Government is now involved in a conflict +which the more socialistic section of its population absolutely +detests, and for which its masses have little desire or enthusiasm; +it is alienating from itself the loyalty of the warm-hearted and very +human and brotherly folk whom it professes to represent; and +is sowing the seed of its own destruction. Curiously enough too, +by supplying the Russian Autocracy with an excuse for gratifying +<i>its</i> lust of conquest (an excuse which is welcome no doubt as a +means of discounting the revolutionary movement at home) this +action of Germany is destined to lead to a disorganization of Russia +similar to that which awaits herself.</p> + +<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>On the other hand, the same action has already caused an extraordinary +and astounding development of solidarity and enthusiasm +among the more pacific peoples of Western Europe—this partly +no doubt in sheer self-defence, but even more, I think, as an +expression of their hatred of militarism and bullying Imperialism. +The enormous growth during the past few years of democratic and +communal thought and organization on the Continent generally +is well known; and the events of which we are speaking have +suddenly crystallized that into definite consciousness and into a +fresh resolve for the future—the resolve that never again shall the +peoples be plunged in the senseless bloodshed of war to suit the +ambition or the private interests of ruling classes. Furthermore, in +Britain, where, for so long, the forward movement has seemed to +hang fire and fail to define itself, we have developed—most swiftly +and in almost miraculous fashion—a whole programme of socialist +institutions, and (what is more important) a powerful and democratic +sentiment of public honour and duty.</p> + +<p class='c011'>In view of all this it is impossible, as I have said, not to hope for +a great move forward—when this present nightmare madness is +over—among the Western States of Europe towards the consolidation +of their respective democracies and the establishment of a +great Federation on a Labour basis among them; as well as to +expect a sturdy reaction, perhaps amounting to revolution, among +the Central and Eastern peoples against the military despotism and +bureaucracy from which they have so long suffered. In both these +directions, in aiding the Federation of the democracies of the West +and in hastening the disruption of the military bureaucracies of the +East, England—if she rises to her true genius, and to a far grander +conception of foreign policy than she has of late years favoured—will +have a great work to do. Nor is it possible to doubt that the +new order thus arriving will largely be the outcome of those years +of work all over Europe in which the ideal of a generous Common +Life has been preached and propagated as against the sordid and +self-seeking Commercialism of the era that is passing away.</p> + +<p class='c011'>If in my small way I have done anything towards the social +evolution of which I speak, it is I think chiefly due to the fact +that I was born in the midst of that Commercial Era, and that +consequently my early days were days of considerable suffering. +The iron of it, I suppose, entered into my soul. Coming to my first +consciousness, as it were, of the world at the age of sixteen (at Brighton +in 1860) I found myself—and without knowing where I was—in the +middle of that strange period of human evolution the Victorian +<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>Age, which in some respects, one now thinks, marked the lowest +ebb of modern civilized society: a period in which not only +commercialism in public life, but cant in religion, pure materialism +in science, futility in social conventions, the worship of stocks and +shares, the starving of the human heart, the denial of the human +body and its needs, the huddling concealment of the body in +clothes, the “impure hush” on matters of sex, class-division, +contempt of manual labour, and the cruel barring of women from +every natural and useful expression of their lives, were carried to an +extremity of folly difficult for us now to realize.</p> + +<p class='c011'>As I say, I did not know where I was. I had no certain tidings +of any other feasible state of society than that which loafed along +the Brighton parade or tittle-tattled in drawing-rooms. I only +knew I hated my surroundings. I even sometimes, out of the +midst of that absurd life, looked with envy I remember on the men +with pick and shovel in the roadway and wished to join in their +labour; but between of course was a great and impassable gulf +fixed, and before I could cross that I had to pass through many +stages. I only remember how the tension and pressure of those +years grew and increased—as it might do in an old boiler when the +steamports are closed and the safety-valve shut down; till at last, +and when the time came that I could bear it no longer, I was +propelled with a kind of explosive force, and with considerable +velocity, right out of the middle of the nineteenth century and far +on into the twentieth!</p> + +<p class='c011'>My friends speak of gratitude, and I am touched by these +expressions, because I do indeed think the genuine feeling of +gratitude is a very human and lovable thing—blessing in a sense +both him that gives and him that takes. Yet I confess that somehow, +when directed towards myself, I find the feeling difficult to +realize. After all, what a man does he does out of the necessity of +his nature: one can claim no credit for it, for one could hardly +do otherwise. I have sometimes, for instance, been accused of +taking to a rather plain and Bohemian kind of life, of associating with +manual workers, of speaking at street corners, of growing fruit, +making sandals, writing verses, or what not, as at great cost to my +own comfort, and with some ulterior or artificial purpose—as of +reforming the world. But I can safely say that in any such case +I have done the thing primarily and simply because of the joy I had +in doing it, and to please myself. If the world or any part of it +should in consequence insist on being reformed, that is not my +fault. And this perhaps after all is a good general rule: namely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>that people should endeavour (more than they do) to express or +liberate their <i>own</i> real and deep-rooted needs and feelings. Then +in doing so they will probably liberate and aid the expression of +the lives of thousands of others; and so will have the pleasure of +helping, without the unpleasant sense of laying any one under an +obligation.</p> + +<p class='c011'>And here I think I ought to say (lest by concealing the fact +I should seem to be laying my friends under an obligation and +obtaining their seventieth-birthday congratulations under false +pretences) that only two or three years ago a horny-handed son +of toil—a gold-miner from the wilds of South Nevada—came all the +way direct to Millthorpe on purpose to tell me that I should yet +live for four hundred years! He stayed, curiously enough, but a +very few days in this country, and having delivered his message +set sail again the next morning but one for his gold-mines and his +quartz-crushing. The prophecy I confess was one of rather doubtful +comfort either to myself or my friends, but in order to avoid +disappointment in case of its fulfilment I think perhaps I ought to +mention it.</p> + +<p class='c011'>Anyhow, referring back to those early Victorian days, I now +seem plainly to see that if what was working then in my little soul +could have been realized in society at large there would have been +no need for you to address me the special letter or letters which +I have just received—pleasant though they are to me—because you +would have understood that in all reason letters equally grateful +and full of recognition ought to be addressed to the joiner, the +farm-labourer, the dairy-maid, and the washerwoman of your village, +or to the soldier fighting now in the ranks. You would have +realized that the lives of all of us are so built and founded one +on the work of another that it is impossible to assign any credit to +one whose name happens to be known, which is not equally due to +the thousands or millions of nameless and unknown ones who really +have contributed to his work. We literary folk, I need hardly say, +think a great deal too much about ourselves and our importance.</p> + +<p class='c011'>This is of course so very obvious that I am persuaded that most +of the signatories on this occasion will understand the matter so. +And on that understanding I may say to my friends: I accept +your expressions with the greatest pleasure. I appreciate the +extraordinarily tender and gracious wording of the Address, and +I thank you from my heart.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>EDWARD CARPENTER.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span> + <h2 class='c005'>APPENDIX II</h2> +</div> +<h3 class='c017'>BIBLIOGRAPHY</h3> + +<p class='c018'><strong>The Religious Influence of Art</strong>: being the Burney Prize Essay for 1869. +Cambridge, Deighton, Bell & Co., 1870.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Narcissus and other Poems.</strong> London, Henry S. King & Co., 1873.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Moses: A Drama in Five Acts.</strong> London, E. Moxon, 1875.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Reprinted with alterations and republished as <cite>The Promised +Land</cite>. Sonnenschein, 1910. George Allen & Unwin, 1916.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Syllabuses of University Extension Lectures.</strong> (Astronomy, Sound, Light, +Pioneers of Science, Science and History of Music, &c.) 1874–1881.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Towards Democracy</strong> (Part I). First edition. John Heywood, Manchester, +1883.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span> (including Parts I and II). John Heywood, Manchester, 1885.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span> (including Parts I, II, and III). Fisher Unwin, London, 1892.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span> (with new Title-page). The Labour Press, Manchester, 1896.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span> (Part IV only, “Who Shall Command the Heart”). London, +Swan Sonnenschein; Manchester, S. Clarke, 1902.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span> (Four Parts complete in one vol.). London and Manchester, +Sonnenschein and S. Clarke, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Complete Library Edition, with two portraits. Same +publishers, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same</span>, on India paper (pocket edition), without portraits, but with +Note at end, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c021'>Later issues the same as the last two. Sixteenth Thousand, 1916.</p> + +<p class='c021'>American Edition: T.D. complete. New York, Mitchell Kennerley, +1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>England’s Ideal</strong> and other Papers on Social Subjects. London, Swan +Sonnenschein (Social Science Series). First edition, 1887.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Thirteenth Thousand. Published by George Allen and +Unwin, London, 1916; New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Civilization: its Cause and Cure.</strong> And other Essays. London, Swan +Sonnenschein (Social Science Series). First edition, 1889.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Fourteenth Thousand. London, George Allen & Unwin, +1916; New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Chants of Labour.</strong> Edited by Edward Carpenter. With music; and +Frontispiece by Walter Crane. First edition. London, Swan Sonnenschein, +1888.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Seventh Thousand. London, George Allen & Unwin, 1916.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>From Adam’s Peak to Elephanta</strong>: being Sketches in Ceylon and India. +With illustrations. First edition, London, Sonnenschein, 1892; +New York, Macmillan Co.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, enlarged, 1903.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition, revised, 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>A Visit to a Gn̄ani</strong>: being four chapters from the above, in separate +volume, with two photogravure portraits. George Allen & Co., 1911.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Authorized American edition. Published by A. B. Stockham +& Co., Chicago, 1900.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Pirated and mutilated. Published by the Yogi Publication +Society, Masonic Temple, Chicago, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Love’s Coming-of-Age</strong>: a Series of Papers on the Relations of the Sexes. +First edition, The Labour Press, Manchester, 1896.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1897.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition. Swan Sonnenschein, London; S. Clarke, +Manchester, 1902.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Fifth edition, enlarged, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Fourteenth Thousand. London, George Allen & Unwin, + 1916.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Note on Preventive Checks omitted. London, Methuen. +Shilling edition, 1914.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> American edition. Stockham Publishing Company, Chicago, +1902.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Published by Mitchell Kennerley, New York, 1911.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Forecasts of the Coming Century</strong>: by Alfred Russel Wallace, Tom Mann, +H. Russell Smart, William Morris, H. S. Salt, Enid Stacy, Margaret +McMillan, Grant Allen, Bernard Shaw and Edward Carpenter. +Edited by E. C., and published by the Labour Press, Manchester, 1897.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Story of Eros and Psyche from Apuleius</strong>, and the first book of the +Iliad of Homer, done into English by Edward Carpenter. London, +Sonnenschein, 1900.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Angels’ Wings</strong>: Essays on Art and its Relation to Life. With nine full-page +Plates and Appendix. First edition. London, Sonnenschein, 1898; +New York, Macmillan Co.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1899.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Ioläus</strong>: an Anthology of Friendship, in old Caslon type, with red initials and +side-notes. First edition. London, Sonnenschein, 1902; Boston, +U.S.A., Ch. A. Goodspeed.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Author’s edition, 1902, bound in white and blue calf; 150 +copies only.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, enlarged. Forty pages added; black initials +and notes. Sonnenschein, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition. Title changed to <strong>Anthology of Friendship +(Ioläus)</strong>. Published by George Allen & Unwin, 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span><strong>The Art of Creation</strong>: Essays on the Self and its Powers. First edition. +London, George Allen, 1904.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, enlarged, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition. George Allen & Unwin, 1916.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Prisons, Police, and Punishment</strong>: an Inquiry into the Causes and Treatment +of Crime and Criminals. London, Fifield, 1905.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Simplification of Life</strong>: being selections from the writings of E. C. +by Harry Roberts. Published by Anthony Treherne, London, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c020'>Second edition. George Allen & Unwin, January 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Days with Walt Whitman</strong>: with some Notes on his Life and Work, and +three Portraits. London, George Allen, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Sketches from Life in Town and Country</strong>: Some Verses, and a Portrait of +the Author. London, George Allen, 1908.      [<i>Out of print.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Intermediate Sex</strong>: a Study of some Transitional Types of Men and +Women. First edition. London, Sonnenschein; Manchester, Clarke, +1908.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third edition. George Allen & Co., 1912.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Fourth edition. London, George Allen & Unwin, 1916.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> American edition. Published by Mitchell Kennerley, New +York, 1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Drama of Love and Death</strong>: a Study of Human Evolution and Transfiguration. +London, George Allen & Co., April 1912.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, August 1912.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> American edition. New York, Mitchell Kennerley, 1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Intermediate Types among Primitive Folk</strong>: a Study in Social Evolution. +London, George Allen, 1914.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> American edition. New York, Mitchell Kennerley, 1914.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Healing of Nations</strong>: and the Hidden Sources of their Strife. First +edition. London, George Allen & Unwin, March 1915. Reprinted +April and October 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Story of My Books.</strong> London, George Allen & Unwin, March 1916.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>My Days and Dreams</strong>: being Autobiographical Notes by Edward Carpenter. +With Seventeen Portraits and Illustrations. George Allen & Unwin, +May 1916.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div>PAMPHLETS.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Science</strong>: a Criticism. Pp. 75. John Heywood, Manchester and +London, 1885.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Co-operative Production</strong>: with reference to the experiment of Leclaire. A +lecture given at the Hall of Science, Sheffield, 1883. Published by +John Heywood, Manchester, 1883. Pp. 16.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition. The Modern Press, 13, Paternoster Row, +London, 1886.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>England’s Ideal.</strong> A Tract reprinted from <cite>To-day</cite>, May 1884. Pp. 22. John +Heywood, Manchester and London, 1885.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Moneylending</strong>, and the Meaning of Dividends. John Heywood, +1883.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1885. Pp. 28.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Desirable Mansions.</strong> A Tract reprinted from <cite>Progress</cite>, June 1883. Pp. 16, +John Heywood, 1883.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition. The Modern Press, London, 1886.</p> + +<p class='c020'>Third edition, 1887.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Social Progress and Individual Effort.</strong> Reprinted from <cite>To-day</cite>, February +1885. Pp. 13. The Modern Press, London, 1886.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Enchanted Thicket</strong>: an Appeal to the “Well-to-do,” by Edward +Carpenter, late Fellow of Trinity Hall, Cambridge: being a reprint by +permission from the book <cite>England’s Ideal</cite>. For private circulation, +1889. Pp. 12.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Civilization, Exfoliation, and Custom.</strong> Published by Humboldt Library of +Science, New York, 1891. Pirated from <cite>Civilization: its Cause and +Cure</cite>. Pp. 65.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Science and Defence of Criminals.</strong> Humboldt Library, 1891. Also +pirated from <cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>. Pp. 53.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Our Parish and our Duke</strong>: a Letter to the Parishioners of Holmesfield, in +Derbyshire. Four-page leaflet, published by the author, 1889. (Two +editions about 10,000 each.) Also printed in full in the London <cite>Star</cite>, +July 8, 1889.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Village and the Landlord.</strong> An adaptation of the foregoing. Published +by the Fabian Society (Tract No. 136). London, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>A Letter Relating to the Case of the Walsall Anarchists.</strong> Four-page leaflet. +Reprinted from <cite>Freedom</cite>, December 1892.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Intorno alla Protezione degli animali</strong> (four-page leaflet). Reprinted from +<cite>Il Lavoro</cite> (Genoa) of May 18, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Empire: in India and Elsewhere.</strong> Pp. 20. London, A. C. Fifield, 1900.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> New edition, 1906. Published by Fifield, for the Humanitarian +League.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>A Letter to the Employees of the Midland and other Railway Companies.</strong> +Four-page leaflet. Fillingham, Sheffield. Signed “E. C., on behalf +of the Sheffield Socialist Society, Commonwealth Café,” November +1886.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Boer and Briton.</strong> Four-page leaflet. Labour Press, Manchester, January 7, +1900. (? Two editions 5,000 each.)      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span><strong>Proof of Taylor’s Theorem in the Differential Calculus.</strong> By Edward Carpenter +and R. F. Muirhead. Four-page pamphlet, with orange cover. +Extracted from the Proceedings of the Edinburgh Mathematical +Society, vol. xii. Session 1893–4.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Sex-love: and its Place in a Free Society.</strong> Pp. 24. Labour Press, +Manchester, 1894. Second edition, 1894.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Woman: and her Place in a Free Society.</strong> Pp. 40. Labour Press, +Manchester, 1894.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Marriage in Free Society.</strong> Pp. 48 (5,000 copies). Labour Press, Manchester, +1894.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Homogenic Love: and its Place in a Free Society.</strong> (Printed for private +circulation only.) Pp. 52. Manchester, 1894.      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>An Unknown People.</strong> Reprinted from the <cite>Reformer</cite>. Pp. 37. London, +A. and H. B. Bonner, 1897. (Brown and gold cover.)</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Second edition, 1905. (Plain brown cover.)      [<i>o. p.</i></p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Fly, Messenger! Fly</strong>: being a reprint (8 pages) from <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, +by permission. For private circulation only. Tring, 1894.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Wreck of Modern Industry: and its Reorganization.</strong> Pamphlet, pp. 16. +National Labour Press, Manchester, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Non-Governmental Society.</strong> Originally a chapter in <cite>Forecasts of the Coming +Century</cite>, 1897; afterwards in <cite>Prisons, Police, and Punishment</cite>. +Pp. 32. Reprinted separately, and published by A. C. Fifield, London, +1911.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Vivisection.</strong> By Edward Carpenter and Edward Maitland. Two Addresses +given before the Humanitarian League. Fifty-four page pamphlet. +London, W. Reeves, 1893.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Vivisection.</strong> By Edward Carpenter. Pp. 12. Another Address given before +the Humanitarian League. Published at 53, Chancery Lane, London, +1904.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Vivisection.</strong> Two Addresses by Edward Carpenter (being the above two +Addresses). Revised edition. London, Fifield, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Art of Creation.</strong> Being the second Anniversary Lecture of the Larmer +Sugden Memorial, delivered at the William Morris Labour Church, +at Leek, by Edward Carpenter, and printed at Hanley, in Staffordshire, +1903.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Inner Self.</strong> Report of a lecture given at King’s Weigh House Church, +London, November 7, 1912, and published (pp. 8) by the Christian +Commonwealth Company, 1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>St. George and the Dragon</strong>: a Play in Three Acts for children and young +folk. Dedicated to the I.L.P. clubs. Labour Press, Manchester, 1895. +Second edition, 1908. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span><strong>The Need of a Rational and Humane Science</strong>: a lecture given before the +Humanitarian League. Published at 53, Chancery Lane, London, +1896. Pp. 33.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Reprinted as a chapter in <cite>Humane Science Lectures</cite> by +various authors. London, George Bell, 1897, and incorporated in +<cite>Civilisation: its Cause and Cure</cite>, edition 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>British Aristocracy and the House of Lords.</strong> Pp. 36. Reprinted from +the <cite>Albany Review</cite> of April, 1908. London, Fifield, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Smoke-Nuisance and Smoke-Preventing Appliances.</strong> Pp. 8. Being +report of a lecture given at the Firth College, Sheffield, October 27, +1889. Publishers, Leader & Sons, Sheffield.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div>SOME MAGAZINE ARTICLES.</div> + <div class='c004'>(<i>Not</i> including those already [1916] republished in book form.)</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Value of the Value-Theory.</strong> <cite>To-day</cite>, June 1889.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>On High Street, Kensington</strong>, in the <cite>Commonweal</cite>, April 26, 1890.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Lawrence Oliphant</strong>, critique in the <cite>Scottish Art Review</cite>, February 1889.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>November Boughs</strong>, critique in same Review, April 1889.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Smoke-Plague and its Remedy.</strong> <cite>Macmillan’s Magazine</cite>, July 1890.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Love’s Coming-of-Age</strong>: a Reply to Mr. Rockell. The <cite>Free Review</cite> (Sonnenschein), +October 1896.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Two Gifts</strong>: a Poem. The <cite>Adult</cite>, February 1898.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>On English Hexameter Verse.</strong> Two articles in the <cite>Cambridge Review</cite>, +February 22 and March 1, 1900.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>An Open-Air Gymnasium</strong>, <cite>Sandow’s Magazine</cite>, January 1900.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Awakening of China.</strong> In the <cite>Co-operative Wholesale Society’s Annual</cite>, +Manchester, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Morality under Socialism.</strong> The <cite>Albany Review</cite>, September 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Four Articles, <strong>Sketches in Morocco</strong>. The <cite>New Age</cite>, November 1906, and +May, June, and July 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Taboos of the British Museum.</strong> By E. S. P. Haynes (and E. C.) in +<cite>English Review</cite>, December 1913.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Meaning of Pain.</strong> <cite>English Review</cite>, July 1914.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Does Pain on one Plane mean Pleasure on another?</strong> The <cite>Epoch</cite>, July 1914.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Great Kinship.</strong> Translated from the French of Elisée Reclus (“La +Grande Famille”) by E. C. The <cite>Humane Review</cite>, January 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Sport and Agriculture.</strong> In the <cite>Humanitarian</cite>, November 1913.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Conscription and National Service.</strong> Letter to the <cite>Daily Chronicle</cite>, London, +August 12, 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>Two articles on <strong>The Music Drama of the Future</strong>. The <cite>New Age</cite>, August 15 +and 22, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Two articles on <strong>The New South African Union</strong>. The <cite>New Age</cite>, August 27 +and September 3, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Two articles on <strong>The Minimum Wage</strong>. The <cite>New Age</cite>, December 21 and 23, +1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Drawing-room Table Literature.</strong> Article in the <cite>New Age</cite>, March 17, 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Le Philosophe Meh-ti.</strong> Book-review in the <cite>New Age</cite>, February 1, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Beauty in Civic Life</strong>: report of a lecture. The <cite>Humanitarian</cite>, January 1912.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div>TRANSLATIONS.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>German.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="de">Wenn die Menschen reif zur Liebe Werden</span></strong> (<cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>). Translated +by Karl Federn; published by Hermann Seemann, Leipzig, +1902.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="de">Die Civilisation</span>: ihre Ursachen und ihre Heilung.</strong> Translated by K. +Federn; published by H. Seemann, Leipzig, 1903.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Towards Democracy.</strong> Translated by Lilly Nadler-Nuellens and Ervin +Batthyány.</p> + +<p class='c020'>(Part I), “<span lang="de">Demokratie</span>,” published by H. Seemann, Leipzig, 1903; Berlin, +1906.</p> + +<p class='c020'>(Part II), “<span lang="de">Freiheit</span>,” same publishers, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c020'>(Part III), “<span lang="de">Der Freiheit Entgegen</span>,” published by Freier Literarischer +Verlag, Berlin, Tempelhof, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c020'>(Part IV), same title and publishers, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="de">Die Schöpfung als Kunstwerk</span></strong> (<cite>The Art of Creation</cite>). Translated by K. +Federn, published by Eugen Diederichs, Jena, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="de">Das Mittelgeschlecht</span></strong> (<cite>The Intermediate Sex</cite>). Translated by L. Bergfeld, +published by Seitz und Schauer, München, 1907; afterwards, Reinhard, +München.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>England’s Ideal.</strong> Translated by Sophie von Harbon; published by Wilhelm +Borngräber, Berlin, 1912.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><cite>Articles and Pamphlets.</cite></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="de">Die Homogene Liebe.</span></strong> Pamphlet. Translated by H. B. Fischer, published +by Max Spohr, Leipzig, 1894.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Three separate pamphlets, <span lang="de">“Die Geschlechstliebe,” “Das Weib,”</span> and “<span lang="de">Die +Ehe</span>,” all published in 1895. Same translator and publisher as above.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Article “<span lang="de">Ueber die Beziehungen zwischen Homosexualität und Prophetentum</span>” +in the <cite><span lang="de">Vierteljahrs-berichts des Wissenschaftlich-humanitären +Komitees</span></cite>, July 1911, published by Hirschfeld, Berlin.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Pamphlet <strong><span lang="de">Die Gesellschaft ohne Regierung</span></strong> (<cite>Non-governmental Society</cite>). +Translated by Pierre Ramus, published by W. Schouteten, Brüssel, +1910.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span><span class='sc'>Italian.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="it">L’amore diventa maggiorenne</span></strong> (<cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>). Translated by +Guido Ferrando; published by frat. Bocca, Torino, Roma, etc., 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="it">L’Arte della Creazione.</span></strong> Translated by G. Ferrando; published by Enrico +Voghera, Roma, 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="it">Verso la Democrazia</span></strong> (Part I). With biographical notice and note from +<cite>Labour Prophet</cite>. Translated by Teresina Campani-Bagnoli; published +by R. Carabba, Lanciano, 1912.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>French.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><span lang="fr"><strong>Prisons, Police, et Châtiments.</strong> Traduit et annoté par Paul Le Rouge et +Alain Garnier, avocats à la Cour d’Appel de Paris.</span> Published by +Schleicher Frères, Paris, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><span lang="fr"><strong>Vivisection.</strong> Par E. C. Traduit de l’anglais par E. F. Satchell</span>; published +by St. Catherine’s Press, Bruges, 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="fr">L’Amour Homogénique et sa Place dans une Société libre.</span></strong> Published +in <cite>La Société Nouvelle</cite>, Brussels and Paris, September 1896.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="fr">Vers l’Affranchissement</span></strong> (being Parts III and IV of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>). +Translated by Marcelle Senard. Published by the <span lang="fr">Librairie de l’Art +Indépendant, 81 rue Dareau, Paris, 1914.</span></p> + +<p class='c019'><i>Also</i> <span lang="fr"><strong>E. C. et sa Philosophie</strong>. Par M. Senard.</span> Published same year and +place.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="fr">La Régénération des Peuples</span></strong> (<cite>The Healing of Nations</cite>). Translated by +M. Senard; published by....</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>Dutch.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="nl">Liefde’s Meerderjarigheid</span></strong> (<cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>). Translated by Meezenbrock; +published by Holkema, Amsterdam, 1904.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="nl">Die Beschaving: hare Oorzaak en hare Genezing</span></strong> (<cite>Civilization: its Cause +and Cure</cite>). Translated by P. H.; published by Elsevier, Amsterdam, +1899.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>Russian.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Civilization: its Cause and Cure.</strong> Translated by Ivan Najívin, with +biographical Note, and Portrait, Moscow, 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Science: a Criticism.</strong> With Introductory Note by Leo Tolstoy, 1904.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Prisons, Police, and Punishment.</strong> Translated by A. M. (without Appendix). +Large 8vo, light green cover. Moscow, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>A Visit to a Gn̄ani</strong> (four chapters) entitled <cite>I Am</cite>. Translated by Ivan Najívin, +Moscow, 1907.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Towards Democracy</strong> (<cite>I arise out of the Night</cite>). Being selections from T. D., +with Note on E. C. by Sergius Orlovski. Moscow.</p> + +<p class='c019'><span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span><strong>Love and Death.</strong> Translated by P. D. Ouspenski. With Introduction. +Petrograd, 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Intermediate Sex.</strong> Translated by P. D. Ouspenski. Petrograd, 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><i>See also</i> article on E. C. by S. E. Rapoport in <cite>Russian Thought</cite> for January +or February 1914. Petrograd.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>Bulgarian.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Science: a Criticism.</strong> With Introduction by Leo Tolstoy. Translated +from the Russian by D. Jethkoff and Chr. Dossieff. Burgas, 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'><i>Also</i> <strong>Civilization</strong> and <strong>England’s Ideal</strong>. Translated by D. Vaptzaroff, Burgas, +1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Articles in <cite>Renaissans</cite> (Burgas):—</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>On Rational and Humane Science.</strong> 1909.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>England’s Ideal.</strong> 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Defence of Criminals.</strong> (2 numbers.) 1914.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>Spanish.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><span lang="es"><strong>Defensa de los Criminales.</strong> Critica de la Moralidad.</span> Translated by Julio +Molina y Vedia; published by P. Tonini, Buenos Aires, 1901.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong><span lang="es">El Matorral Encantado</span></strong> (<cite>The Enchanted Thicket</cite>). Translated by <span lang="es">Peter +Godoi Perez, por el Grupo “Los Precursores.</span>” Santiago, 1911.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='sc'>Japanese.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'>Sections I to XIX of <strong>Towards Democracy</strong> by Saikwa Tomita in <cite>Tokyo +Magazine</cite> of July 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><i>Also</i> <strong>After Long Ages</strong> and many shorter poems.</p> + +<p class='c019'><i>See also</i> <strong>E. C.: Poet and Prophet</strong>. By Ishikawa Sanshiro: being a series +of chapters on E. C. with long quotations from his works, also portrait +and letter from E. C. Yokohama, 1912.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div>MUSIC.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><i>See</i> <strong>Chants of Labour</strong>. Edited by E. C. First edition 1888.</p> + +<p class='c019'><i>Also</i> <strong>Three Songs</strong> (“Men of England,” by Shelley, “The People to their +Land,” and “England, Arise”). Set to music by E. C. Published +by the Labour Press, Manchester, 1896.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>England, Arise.</strong> Arranged by John Curwen as four-part song for male voices. +Staff and sol-fa notation. Published by J. Curwen and Sons, Berners St. +London, W., 1906.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The City of the Sun.</strong> Words and music by E. C. Published by the Labour +Press, Manchester, (?) 1908.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Die Stadt der Sonne.</strong> Worte und Musik von E. C., “dem Kämpfenden +Proletariat gewidmet.” Verlag “Wohlstand für Alle.” Vienna XII. +Herthorgasse, 12, (?) 1909.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c022'> + <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>SOME BOOKS, PAMPHLETS, ARTICLES, <span class='fss'>ETC.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C.: The Man and his Message.</strong> Pp. 40. With two portraits. By Tom +Swan. Manchester, 1901. Second edition, 1902.</p> + +<p class='c020'><span class='sc'>The Same.</span> Third Edition. London, Fifield, 1905. Fourth edition, +1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C.: Poet and Prophet.</strong> By Ernest Crosby. 50 pp. Second edition, +Fifield, 1905.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>The Gospel according to E. C.</strong> By G. H. Perris. In two chapters. Article +in the <cite>New Age</cite>, April 23 and 30, 1896.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Three Modern Seers</strong> (Hinton, Nietzsche, and E. C.). With Portraits. +Pp. 228. By Mrs. Havelock Ellis. London, Stanley Paul, 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C.: Poet and Prophet.</strong> Expositions of and quotations from his works. +Pp. 300. In Japanese script. By Ishikawa Sanshiro. Yokohama, +1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C.: an Exposition and an Appreciation.</strong> By Edward Lewis. Pp. 310. +With Portrait. London, Methuen, 1915.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>Modern Science.</strong> A reprint in English of Leo Tolstoy’s Introduction to +that Essay. Published by Wm. Reeves, Charing Cross Road, London.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C. and his Message.</strong> By Leonard D. Abbott in the <cite>International Socialist +Review</cite>, Chicago, November 1, 1900.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C. ein Sänger der Freiheit und des Volkes.</strong> Von Pierre Ramus, verlag +Schouteten. Brussels, 1910.</p> + +<p class='c019'><strong>E. C. et sa Philosophie.</strong> Par M. Senard. Libr. de l’Art Indépendant, Paris, +1914.</p> + +<p class='c019'>Chapter on E. C. in <cite>All Manner of Folk</cite>. By Holbrook Jackson. London, +Grant Richards, 1912.</p> + +<p class='c019'>And various articles:—</p> + +<p class='c023'>See the <cite>Dublin University Review</cite>, April, 1886; <cite>Seed-time</cite>, London, +April, 1893; the <cite>Friend</cite>, January 4, 1895; the <cite>Twentieth Century</cite>, New +York, June 25, 1898; the <cite>Inquirer</cite>, London, May 13, 1899; the <cite>Westminster +Review</cite>, December, 1901; the <cite>Pioneer</cite>, London, January, 1901; +the <cite>Humane Review</cite>, July, 1903; the <cite>Literary Digest</cite>, New York, +February 25, 1905; the <cite>Craftsman</cite>, New York, October, 1906; the +<cite>Millgate Monthly</cite>, Manchester, April 1907; the <cite>Forum</cite>, New York, +August 1910; the <cite>Christian Commonwealth</cite>, London, December 11, +1912; <cite>Bibby’s Annual</cite>, 1913; the <cite>Bystander</cite>, March 18, 1914; the +<cite>Epoch</cite>, November 1915; the <cite>Herald of the Star</cite>, August 11, 1915; etc.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span> + <h2 class='c005'>INDEX</h2> +</div> + +<ul class='index c002'> + <li class='c024'>Adams, George, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>; + <ul> + <li>story of his life, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a> ff.;</li> + <li>at Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>–159</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Adam’s Peak to Elephanta</cite>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Africa, South, fascination of, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>African Farm, Story of</cite>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a></li> + <li class='c024'>After Civilization, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Age, its compensations, <a href='#Page_304'>304</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Alfred, my brother, at school and in the Navy, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>; + <ul> + <li>his son, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a> (note)</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Anarchism, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ancestry, my, Cornish, Scotch (? and Phœnician), <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_309'>309</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Anecdotes of Millthorpe, ch. x.</li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Angels’ Wings</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Anthology of Friendship</cite>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Anti-vivisection, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Art of Creation, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>; + <ul> + <li>translations of, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Arunáchalam, P., of Colombo, Ceylon, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>; + <ul> + <li>his career, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>–253</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Ashton, Margaret, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Assagioli, Roberto, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Astronomy</cite>, lectures, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Audiences, indoors and open-air, etc., <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Auteri, Count, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Bagnoli, Teresina, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bantock, Granville, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Barker, Granville, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>Barnes, George N., of the A.S.E., <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Batthyány, Ervin, at Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>; + <ul> + <li>life at Buda-Pesth, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a> ff.</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Beck, E, A., of Trinity Hall, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Benson, F. R., <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Berkeleyan view of Matter, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Besant, Annie, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>–222, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Bhagavat Gita</cite>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bingham, brothers, of Sheffield, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Birrell, Augustine, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Blavatsky, Mme., <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Bloody Sunday” in Trafalgar Square, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Boating life at Cambridge, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Boer and Briton</cite>, a leaflet, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Boer War, the, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bolton, Whitman Club at, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Boughton, Rutland, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Boyhood and Age, little difference, <a href='#Page_302'>302</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bradway, life at, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a> ff., <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Brighton, futile life of, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>; + <ul> + <li>work at, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>;</li> + <li>the family leaves, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Brighton College, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Brown, J. M., <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Bruno,” the story of, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>–155</li> + <li class='c024'>“Bryan,” story of, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>–172</li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>Bryant, W., the poet, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bucke, Dr. Richard, of Canada, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Bulgarian translations, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Burney Prize, the, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Burns, John, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Burroughs, John, the friend of Whitman, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Burrows, Herbert, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Byron, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Cambridge, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Campbell, R. J., <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ceylon, visit to, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Champion, H. H., early member of the S.D.F., <a href='#Page_115'>115</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Channing, Rev. W. H., <a href='#Page_87'>87</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Chants of Labour</cite>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Charles, my brother, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Charles, Fredk., anarchist, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Cheap and nasty” things and people, <a href='#Page_310'>310</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Chemistry, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Chesterfield, life at, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Christian legend, the, allegorical, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Civilization, modern, its meaning and future, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_311'>311</a>–315; + <ul> + <li>escape from, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>;</li> + <li>its paltriness, <a href='#Page_311'>311</a>;</li> + <li>and unimportance, <a href='#Page_312'>312</a>, <a href='#Page_313'>313</a>;</li> + <li>after-stage to follow, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a>, <a href='#Page_314'>314</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>; + <ul> + <li>translations of, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>, etc.;</li> + <li>subject never seriously tackled by critics, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Clifford, W. K., <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a></li> + <li class='c024'>College Feasts at Cambridge, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Commercial crises, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Commonweal, The</cite>, organ of the Socialist League, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>“Commonwealth” Café opened in Sheffield, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Commons Award Book of Holmesfield, <a href='#Page_291'>291</a>–293</li> + <li class='c024'>Compensations in Age and Infirmity, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_304'>304</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Consciousness, three stages of, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Co-operation, lectures on, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>; + <ul> + <li>agricultural, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a>–289</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Cosmic Consciousness, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>–145, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Cotterill, Henry B., his work in S. Africa, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>; + <ul> + <li>his translation of Homer’s <cite>Odyssey</cite>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Court Baron of Holmesfield, <a href='#Page_292'>292</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Cox, Harold, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Cramp, C. T., of the A.S.R.S., <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Crane, Walter, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'><i>Crib</i>, use of, at school, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Cronwright-Schreiner, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Curate, life as, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Curran, Pete, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Danish agriculture, <a href='#Page_289'>289</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Darwin, George, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a></li> + <li class='c024'>David and Solomon, <a href='#Page_301'>301</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Death, the adventure of, <a href='#Page_302'>302</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Defence of Criminals</cite>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Desirable Mansions</cite>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Despard, Mrs., <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Devon, James, Prisons Commissioner, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Dickens, H. F., <a href='#Page_74'>74</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Dickinson, Lowes, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>; + <ul> + <li>his books, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Dilke, Charles Wentworth, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a></li> + <li class='c024'>District Councils, their character, <a href='#Page_294'>294</a>, <a href='#Page_295'>295</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Downs, the Sussex, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span><cite>Drama of Love and Death, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Duncan, Isadora, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Early days, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>–16</li> + <li class='c024'>Early verses, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ellis, Edith (<i>née</i> Lees), <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ellis, Havelock, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>; + <ul> + <li>his great work on <cite>Psychology of Sex</cite>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>;</li> + <li>his personality, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Emerson, R. W., <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Enclosure of Commons, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>England’s Ideal</cite>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ethical Societies, the, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>; + <ul> + <li>lectures for, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Executor, work as, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Expression, one of the great objects of Life, <a href='#Page_305'>305</a>–307; + <ul> + <li>ever-unfolding, <a href='#Page_310'>310</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c002'>Fabian Societies, lectures for, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Faddists invade Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Father, my, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a> ff.; + <ul> + <li>his death, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Fawcett, Henry, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>; + <ul> + <li>story of his blindness, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>–215</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Fearnehough, Albert, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>–104, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Federn, Karl, translates <cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>, etc., <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Fellowship, elected to, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>; + <ul> + <li>relinquished, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Feminist Movement, The, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ferrando, Guido, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Finance, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Florence, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>; + <ul> + <li>Italian literary circle at, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Ford, the sisters, of Leeds, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Foreign travel, <a href='#Page_310'>310</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Fox, Charles, of Bradway, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Foxwell, H. S., of St. John’s, Cambridge, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>Friendships, early, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Fry, Roger, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Furniss, John, quarryman and Socialist, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Geldart, Dr., Master of Trin. Hall, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a></li> + <li class='c024'>George, Henry, Land Tax campaign, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Glasier, Bruce and Katharine, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Gn̄aniani, or Wise Man of the East, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>; + <ul> + <li>visit to, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Gold-miner from Nevada, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_322'>322</a>; + <ul> + <li>his visions, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>–187;</li> + <li>and intuitions, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>–189</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Gooch, G. P., <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Goring, Sir Charles, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Graham, Cunninghame, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Grant, Albert, financier, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>; + <ul> + <li>made Baron, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Gray, Ernest A., <a href='#Page_47'>47</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Grayson, Victor, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Greek sculpture, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Greenock, shipping strike at, in 1910, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Greig, Mrs. Billington, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Griffith, Dr., Headmaster of Brighton College, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Gröndahl, Illit, translations into Norwegian, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Hardie, Keir, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hardy, Mrs., visit to, near Pittsburg, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hawkins, E. C., Form Master at Brighton College, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Health, my, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_100'>100</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Heidelberg, life at, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Hole in the Centre,” the, <a href='#Page_304'>304</a>, <a href='#Page_305'>305</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>Holmes, Oliver Wendell, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hopkins, F. L., Dean of Trin. Hall, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Housman, Laurence, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hukin, G. E., <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Humanitarian League, the, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>; + <ul> + <li>lectures for, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Hut, or garden-shelter, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hyacinth, vision of, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hyett, F. A., <a href='#Page_46'>46</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Hyndman, his <cite>England for All</cite>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>; + <ul> + <li>chairman of S.D.F., <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>;</li> + <li>his career, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>–249, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c002'><i>Impasse</i> of the old order of Society, <a href='#Page_311'>311</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Imperialism, shopkeeping, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Indulgences” at French school, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Intermediate Sex, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Invalid woman, the, of the Victorian drawing-rooms, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Ioläus</cite>, Anthology of Friendship, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ishikawa, Sanshiro, Japanese friend, calls our houses “prisons,” <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>; + <ul> + <li>himself imprisoned in Japan, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>;</li> + <li>comes to England, Belgium, France, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c002'>Japan, Labour troubles in, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>; + <ul> + <li>translations of <cite>Civilization</cite>, <cite>Toward Democracy</cite>, etc., <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>–278</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Japanese verdicts on the War, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Johnston, Councillor James, of Manchester, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Johnston, Dr. J., of Bolton, his <cite>Visit to Walt Whitman</cite>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Joynes, James L., <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>Judges, High Court and others, their fitness for the post, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Justice</cite>, organ of the S.D.F., <a href='#Page_115'>115</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Kaffirs, the, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Key, Ellen, her works, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Kingsford, Anna, and the Hermetic Society, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>–245</li> + <li class='c024'>Kropotkin, Peter, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>–220</li> + <li class='c002'><cite>Labour, Chants of</cite>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Labour Press, Manchester, publishes my books, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>; + <ul> + <li>goes bankrupt, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Labour Prophet, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Landladies, joys of, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Latham, Henry, Tutor of Trin. Hall, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Laws of Morality,” <a href='#Page_205'>205</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Laws of Nature,” <a href='#Page_204'>204</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Leaves of Grass</cite>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Lectures, University Extension, Leeds, Halifax, Skipton, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a> ff.; + <ul> + <li>Nottingham, York, Hull, Barnsley, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a> ff.;</li> + <li>Sheffield and Chesterfield, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a> ff.;</li> + <li>on Astronomy, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>;</li> + <li>on Light and Sound, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>;</li> + <li>on Pioneers of Science, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>;</li> + <li>on Music, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>;</li> + <li>on Socialism, etc., <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a> ff.;</li> + <li>at Greenock, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>;</li> + <li>in London and elsewhere, ch. xiv.</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Le Rouge, Paul, translation of <cite>Prisons</cite> book, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Lewis, Edward, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Life, uses of, <a href='#Page_302'>302</a>–307; + <ul> + <li>daily life at seventy, <a href='#Page_307'>307</a>–309</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Light and Sound</cite>, lectures on, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Limerick, Mona, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>Literary beginnings, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Lock, Fossett, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Lodge, Oliver, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Love’s Coming-of-Age</cite>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a> ff., <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>; + <ul> + <li>translations of, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Lowell, Russell, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Lytton, Constance, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Macdonald, Ramsay, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Macmillan, Margaret, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Maguire, Tom, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Maitland, Edward, and the Hermetic Society, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>–245</li> + <li class='c024'>Manual work, need of, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>; + <ul> + <li>manual workers, solidity of their lives, <a href='#Page_312'>312</a>;</li> + <li>friends among, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>March-Phillipps, Lisle, and the Boer War, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>; + <ul> + <li><cite>With Rimington</cite>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Margesson, Lady Isabel, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Market-gardening, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Marriage, decline of, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Marx, his theory of <cite>Surplus-value</cite>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Mathematics, reading for Tripos, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>; + <ul> + <li>proof of <cite>Taylor’s Theorem</cite>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>;</li> + <li>place in Tripos, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Maurice, Fredk. D., <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>; + <ul> + <li>incumbent of St. Edward’s, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>–58</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Max Flint, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>; + <ul> + <li>story of his life, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>–182;</li> + <li>at Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>;</li> + <li>Christian or Jew? 182</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Merrill, George, arrival at Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a> ff.; + <ul> + <li>early life, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>;</li> + <li>talent for housework, etc., <a href='#Page_162'>162</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>; + <ul> + <li>migration to, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>;</li> + <li>life at, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>;</li> + <li><i>rendezvous</i> of all classes, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Morris, William, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>; + <ul> + <li>his temperament, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>;</li> + <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>visit to Millthorpe, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Moses: a drama</cite>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Mother, my, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a> ff.; + <ul> + <li>death of, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Moulton, Fletcher, Senior Wrangler, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Muirhead, Robert F., <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Music, piano and composition, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>; + <ul> + <li>Beethoven, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>;</li> + <li>lectures on, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c002'>Nadler-Nuellens, Lilly, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>–272; + <ul> + <li>translates <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>;</li> + <li>comes to England, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Najívin, Ivan, novelist and mystic; translations into Russian, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Narcissus and other Poems</cite>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Neo-Paganism, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>; + <ul> + <li>lectures on, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_268'>268</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Nevinson, H. W., <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“New Fellowship, The,” <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>; + <ul> + <li>its early members, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>New Movements in 1881, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Newton, “Sir Isaac,” <a href='#Page_18'>18</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Niagara, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Nietzsche, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Nobili, Riccardo, art-critic, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Non-governmental Society</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Northern Towns, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, ch. iv.</li> + <li class='c024'>Norton, Charles, of Harvard, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Oates, C. G., of Leeds, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Olivia,” <a href='#Page_69'>69</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Olivier, Sydney, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Open-air life, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ordination, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>; + <ul> + <li>difficulties with the Bishop, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>–55;</li> + <li>abandonment of Orders, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a> ff., <a href='#Page_72'>72</a> ff.</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c002'>Pamphlets on Sex and Marriage, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>Parish Council, contest, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>; + <ul> + <li>work on, <a href='#Page_291'>291</a>–293</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Parson, a new kind of, wanted, <a href='#Page_291'>291</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Payne, Iden, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Perfect Way, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Personal reform first, <a href='#Page_321'>321</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Peterson, Captain R. E., Tolstoyan, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>; + <ul> + <li>Utopian, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a> ff.;</li> + <li>his colour-sergeant’s wife, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>–176</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Pierce, Prof. Benjamin, of Harvard, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Pioneers of Science</cite>, lectures, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Ploughing matches, <a href='#Page_297'>297</a>, <a href='#Page_298'>298</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Prize-poems, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Promised Land, The</cite>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Psychical Research Society, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Public-house, the, natural centre of village life, <a href='#Page_298'>298</a>; + <ul> + <li>necessity of reorganization, <a href='#Page_299'>299</a>, <a href='#Page_300'>300</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Publishers, timidity of, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Rambelli, Giuseppe, artist, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Reclus, Elie, Elisée, and Paul, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Reddie, Cecil, of Abbotsholme School, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Reservoir schemes, <a href='#Page_297'>297</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Reynolds, Stephen, of the Fisheries, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Rileys, the, in Massachusetts, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Robertson, F. W., of Brighton, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Rome, liberating influence of stay in, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Romer, Robert, Senior Wrangler, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Rossetti, William, his edition of <cite>Leaves of Grass</cite>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Rothenstein, William, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Rustics, their character, and anecdotes, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>–287</li> + <li class='c002'><span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>St. Lawrence, the river, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Salt, Catherine L., <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Salt, Henry, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>–238; + <ul> + <li>work in Humanitarian and Nature movements, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>;</li> + <li>writings, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Sandals, making of, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_321'>321</a>; + <ul> + <li>wearing of, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>“Sanitary” pipes <i>versus</i> natural water-courses and springs, <a href='#Page_296'>296</a></li> + <li class='c024'>School-life, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Schreiner, Olive, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>–231</li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Science, Modern</cite>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>; + <ul> + <li><cite>Criticism</cite> of, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>;</li> + <li>never seriously tackled, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>;</li> + <li>Tolstoy on, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Seed-time</cite>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a> (note)</li> + <li class='c024'>Senard, Marcelle, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>–276; + <ul> + <li>translation of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>;</li> + <li>brochure on E. C., <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>;</li> + <li>hospital work, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Senior Wranglers, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Sex-troubles at schools, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Shaw, Bernard, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Sheffield, beauties of, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>; + <ul> + <li>the people, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Sheffield Socialist Society, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a> ff.</li> + <li class='c024'>Shelley, Mary, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Shelley, Percy, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Shortland, J. W., <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Sicily, lying encouraged among the peasant children, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Simplification of Life, story of, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>; + <ul> + <li>lecture on, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Sisters, my, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Sixsmith, Charles F., <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Sloane Kennedy, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Small Holdings, lectures on, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>; + <ul> + <li>visit to Maylands, Essex, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>;</li> + <li>need of, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a>–289</li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Smith, George Moore-, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>Social Democratic Federation, the, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Socialism, its value, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>; + <ul> + <li>its inner meaning, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>–130;</li> + <li>propaganda of, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>;</li> + <li>humours of, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>“Society” not worth while, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Socrates and the tiger, <a href='#Page_303'>303</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Solidarity of human life, <a href='#Page_322'>322</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Spedding, Harry, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Spiritualists, forty! 169</li> + <li class='c024'>Steerage passenger, experiences as, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Stuart, James, of Trinity College, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Sun-worship and Christianity</cite>, lectures on, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Surplus-value</cite>, theory of, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Taylor, Jonathan, of Sheffield, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Theosophical Societies, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>; + <ul> + <li>lectures for, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Thompson, E. S., of Christ’s College, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Thoreau, H. D., <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_308'>308</a>; + <ul> + <li>his <cite>Walden</cite>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>;</li> + <li>his ideal, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Tolstoy on my <cite>Civilization</cite> and <cite>Modern Science</cite>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Tomita, Saikwa, translates portions of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite> and <cite>The Art of Creation</cite> into Japanese, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>; + <ul> + <li>its inception, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, and birth, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>;</li> + <li>continuation, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>;</li> + <li>publication, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a> ff.;</li> + <li>early criticisms of, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>;</li> + <li>early editions, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a> ff.;</li> + <li>wanders from publisher to publisher, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>–200;</li> + <li>pocket edition, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>;</li> + <li>ignored by the Press, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>;</li> + <li>its meanings, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>;</li> + <li>relation to the other books, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>;</li> + <li><span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>translations of, into German, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a>;</li> + <li>Italian, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>;</li> + <li>French, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>;</li> + <li>Japanese, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>;</li> + <li>Russian, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Transformation, of “Civilization,” impending, <a href='#Page_311'>311</a>–314; + <ul> + <li>of the Individual, <a href='#Page_315'>315</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Trelawny, Edward J., his life, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>–121; + <ul> + <li>visit to, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>–123;</li> + <li>his four wives, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Trevelyan, G. M., <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Trinity Hall, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a></li> + <li class='c002'>United States, first visit to, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a> ff.; + <ul> + <li>second visit, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Universal Self, the, key to all morality and science, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Unwin, Raymond, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Upanishads, The</cite>, lectures on, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Uranian temperament, the, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Usher, Mrs., of the “Sheffield Socialists,” <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Vacation, the Long, at Cambridge, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Vegetarian habits, <a href='#Page_100'>100</a>; + <ul> + <li>Society, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>;</li> + <li>Congress at Manchester, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>;</li> + <li>at Mansion House dinner, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Versailles, life at, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Verses, early, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Victorian Age, the, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>, <a href='#Page_321'>321</a></li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Village and Landlord, The</cite>, a Fabian Tract, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_294'>294</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Village clubs, <a href='#Page_289'>289</a>, <a href='#Page_290'>290</a>, <a href='#Page_300'>300</a>; + <ul> + <li>Chapel and Co-operative Society, <a href='#Page_300'>300</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><cite>Visit to a Gñani</cite>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Wallace, Alfred Russel, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wallace, J. W., of Bolton, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>War, the Great, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_311'>311</a>, <a href='#Page_314'>314</a>, <a href='#Page_319'>319</a>, <a href='#Page_320'>320</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Warr, H. D., Fellow of Trinity Hall, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Webb, Sidney and Beatrice, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Well-dressing,” a village institution, <a href='#Page_295'>295</a>, <a href='#Page_296'>296</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wells, H. G., <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_306'>306</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Westermarck, Prof. Edward, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Whitman, Walt, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>; + <ul> + <li>first introduction to, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>;</li> + <li>visit to, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>;</li> + <li>Emerson’s opinion of, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>;</li> + <li>second visit to, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>;</li> + <li>contrast to Eastern Sage, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>;</li> + <li>Whitman Club at Bolton, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'><span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span><cite>Who shall command the Heart</cite>, Part IV of <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wilde, Oscar, troubles, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wilson, Charlotte, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wilson, Dr. Helen, of Sheffield, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Wilson, Miss Lucy, of Leeds, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a></li> + <li class='c024'>Women’s Movement, its beginning, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>; + <ul> + <li>Suffrage Demonstration, Manchester, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a></li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class='c024'>Wordsworth, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a></li> + <li class='c002'>Yate, C. F., of Trinity Hall, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a></li> + <li class='c024'>“Young Ladies,” the, of 1860, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a></li> +</ul> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><span class='small'><cite>Printed in Great Britain by</cite></span></div> + <div><span class='small'>UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED THE GRESHAM PRESS WOKING AND LONDON</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class='c025'> +<div class='footnote' id='f1'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. In India he rose rapidly through the early grades of the Service. +The Mutiny of 1857 was just over, and administration was being +reorganized in various directions. He was stationed at Futtehpore, +Saharanpore and various places in the N.W. Provinces; and then +at Allahabad, where he became Settlement Officer and something +of an authority on Land and Irrigation questions. Afterwards he +was transferred to the Central Provinces and made full Commissioner +first at Jubbulpore and then at Nagpore. It was at the +last-named place that a fatal accident overtook him while riding in +a steeple-chase; and a career of great promise was cut short. This +was in March 1876. The <cite>Pioneer</cite> of the 7th of March said: “His +public career, though now but commencing, was full of the highest +promise. Sound, cool, and cautious in deliberation, he carried into +action the promptness and decision which are born of self-reliance +and of a healthy vigorous <i>physique</i>. His was emphatically <i>mens +sana in corpore sano</i>; and he himself an officer of rare judgment +and of most sterling merit.”</p> + +<p class='c011'>See <cite>A Memoir of C. W. C.</cite>: a little brochure (privately printed) +written by my eldest sister after his death.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f2'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. His son, Francis, followed my brother into the Navy, thus +representing a fourth generation of Carpenters in a direct line in +the same profession, He is now [1915], though still young, occupying +a high position in the North Sea Fleet, and has distinguished +himself not only like his father by saving life, but also by bringing +out important inventions which have been taken up by the Admiralty.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f3'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. It is curious how æsthetic in style this Preface is, though written +in 1855, rather before the English æsthetic movement, and how, +perhaps on account of its slight affectation of manner, it was +abandoned by Whitman afterwards.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f4'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. “Francesca,” in <cite>Sketches from Life</cite>.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f5'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. The drama is now [1911] republished under the title <cite>The +Promised Land</cite>, and the soliloquy in question is given in the first +part of Act II. Sc. 1. As a reflection of the thoughts which were, +I suppose, occupying my mind at that time, it may have some slight +interest.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f6'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. This of course would all be very different now [1915].</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f7'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. <cite>Days with Walt Whitman</cite> (George Allen and Unwin, 1906).</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f8'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r8'>8</a>. See <cite>Days with Walt Whitman</cite>, by E. Carpenter, p. 30.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f9'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r9'>9</a>. This is a subject which through the Freudian psycho-analysis +has come now [1915] to be much better understood.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f10'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r10'>10</a>. Many examples of this kind of temperament are given in +Vol. II of Dr. Havelock Ellis’ classical work <cite>Studies in the +Psychology of Sex</cite>—Philadelphia, 1901 and 1915. (See history VII, +beginning “My parentage is very sound”, history XVII, etc.) And +I will say that in my case the temperament has always been +quite natural and associated with perfect healthiness of habit +and general freedom from morbidity; and that it has been absolutely +inborn, and not induced by any outside example or teaching. +It is therefore a part of my nature, and a most intimate and +organic part. And I have to thank Mr. Edward Lewis that in his +<cite>Exposition and Appreciation of E. C.</cite> (Methuen, 1915, pp. 200, 299, etc.) +he has so clearly and firmly indicated this.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f11'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r11'>11</a>. See <cite>Sketches from Life in Town and Country</cite> (George Allen and +Unwin), by E. Carpenter.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f12'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r12'>12</a>. However, I happily managed in the next few years to get rid of +a good portion of this!</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f13'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r13'>13</a>. See <cite>Days with Walt Whitman</cite> (George Allen and Unwin, 1906), +by E. Carpenter.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f14'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r14'>14</a>. Perhaps the portrait by Edward Williams, but I cannot say.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f15'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r15'>15</a>. See “The Value of the Value-theory,” an article by myself in +the little magazine <cite>To-day</cite> for June 1889 (published by W. Reeves).</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f16'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r16'>16</a>. See the last poem but one in <cite>Towards Democracy</cite>, p. 502.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f17'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r17'>17</a>. Shown in the illustration facing page <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f18'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r18'>18</a>. At Kovno or Slobodka, now alas! ravaged by the German +invasion [1915].</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f19'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r19'>19</a>. I may say here that I never happened to meet Oscar Wilde +personally.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f20'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r20'>20</a>. One of the chapters in <cite>Civilization: its Cause and Cure</cite>.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f21'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r21'>21</a>. A chapter in <cite>Prisons, Police, and Punishment</cite>.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f22'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r22'>22</a>. In <cite>Adam’s Peak to Elephanta</cite>.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f23'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r23'>23</a>. See p. 125, <i>supra</i> (Ch. VII).</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f24'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r24'>24</a>. They are published now in Philadelphia by the F. A. Davis +Company there.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f25'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r25'>25</a>. See <cite>Seed-time</cite>, a quarterly journal issued by the Fellowship; +which however was not started till 1890 and ceased publication in +1898. Editor, Maurice Adams, one of the earliest members.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f26'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r26'>26</a>. Published by George Harrap, 1912.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f27'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r27'>27</a>. <cite>With Rimington</cite>, by L. March-Phillipps (Arnold, 1901).</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f28'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r28'>28</a>. Entitled <cite>I Cavalli pensanti di Elberfeldt</cite> (Florence, 1912).</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f29'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r29'>29</a>. Part I only, published by Lanciani, 1912.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f30'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r30'>30</a>. Published by the <cite>Libr. de l’Art indépendant</cite>, 81 rue Dareau, +Paris.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f31'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r31'>31</a>. But not of course to <cite>Civilization</cite> itself. M. Najívin, writing to +me, says: “<span lang="fr">A propos de la ‘Civilization’ Tolstoy n’a pas écrit un +préface—seulement il a beaucoup loué ce livre dans deux lettres à +moi, et j’ai fait des extraits de ces lettres et je les ai publiés maintes +fois.... L’exemplaire de la ‘Civilization’ <i>avec des notes de Tolstoy</i> +est envoyé au Musée de Tolstoy à St. Petersbourg.</span>”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f32'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r32'>32</a>. There is also a little book called <cite>Some Forgotten Facts in the +History of Sheffield</cite> (Independent Press, Sheffield, 2s. 6d.) which +gives valuable information about the enclosures in that district.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f33'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r33'>33</a>. The Small Holdings Act of 1907 defines anything up to fifty +acres as a small holding.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f34'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r34'>34</a>. Chap. X, p. 180.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f35'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r35'>35</a>. By means of which, of course, the wheel turns on its axle.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f36'> +<p class='c011'><a href='#r36'>36</a>. The Address together with my Reply is printed in an Appendix +at the end of this book.</p> +</div> +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>Edward Carpenter’s Works</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p class='c026'>TOWARDS DEMOCRACY. Library Edition. +<i>4s. 6d. net.</i> Pocket Edition, <i>3s. 6d. net</i>.</p> + +<p class='c027'>ENGLAND’S IDEAL. 12th Thousand. <i>2s. 6d. +and 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>CIVILIZATION: ITS CAUSE AND CURE. +Essays on Modern Science. 13th Thousand. <i>2s. 6d. +and 1s. net.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>LOVE’S COMING OF AGE: On the Relations +of the Sexes. 12th Thousand. <i>3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>ANGELS’ WINGS. Essays on Art and Life. +Illustrated. <i>4s. 6d. net.</i> Third Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>ADAM’S PEAK TO ELEPHANTA: Sketches +in Ceylon and India. New Edition. <i>4s. 6d.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>A VISIT TO A GÑANI. Four Chapters +reprinted from <cite>Adam’s Peak to Elephanta</cite>. With New +Preface, and 2 Photogravures, La. Cr. 8vo, ½clo., <i>1s. 6d. net</i>.</p> + +<p class='c027'>IOLÄUS: An Anthology of Friendship. <i>2s. 6d. +net.</i> New and Enlarged Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>CHANTS OF LABOUR: A Songbook for the +People, with frontispiece and cover by <span class='sc'>Walter Crane</span>, <i>1s.</i> +7th Thousand.</p> + +<p class='c027'>THE ART OF CREATION: Essays on the +Self and its Powers. <i>3s. 6d. net.</i> Second Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>DAYS WITH WALT WHITMAN. <i>3s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>THE INTERMEDIATE SEX: A Study of +some Transitional Types of Men and Women. <i>3s. 6d. +net.</i> Third Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>THE DRAMA OF LOVE AND DEATH: +A Story of Human Evolution and Transfiguration. <i>5s. net.</i> +Second Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>INTERMEDIATE TYPES AMONG PRIMITIVE +FOLK: A Study in Social Evolution. <i>4s. 6d. net.</i></p> + +<p class='c027'>THE HEALING OF NATIONS. Crown +8vo. Cloth, <i>2s. 6d. net</i>. Paper, <i>2s. net</i>. Third Edition.</p> + +<p class='c027'>THE SIMPLIFICATION OF LIFE. From +the Writings of <span class='sc'>Edward Carpenter</span>. Crown 8vo. +New Edition. <i>2s. net.</i></p> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>Social Science Series</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'>Cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></td> + <td class='c028'>Double Volumes 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*</td> + <td class='c009'>Also in Limp Cloth</td> + <td class='c028'>1<i>s.</i> <i>net</i>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**</td> + <td class='c009'>Paper Covers</td> + <td class='c028'>1<i>s.</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*2.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CIVILISATION: ITS CAUSE AND CURE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Edward Carpenter.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*3.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>QUINTESSENCE OF SOCIALISM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Dr. <span class='sc'>Schäffle</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>4.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>DARWINISM AND POLITICS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>D. G. Ritchie</span>, M.A. (Oxon.).</td> + </tr> + <tr><td class='c029' colspan='3'>New Edition, with two additional Essays on <span class='sc'>Human Evolution</span>.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*5.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>RELIGION OF SOCIALISM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>E. Belfort Bax.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*6.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ETHICS OF SOCIALISM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>E. Belfort Bax.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>7.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE DRINK QUESTION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Dr. <span class='sc'>Kate Mitchell</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>8.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>PROMOTION OF GENERAL HAPPINESS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>M. Macmillan</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*9.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ENGLAND’S IDEAL, &c.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Edward Carpenter.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>10.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SOCIALISM IN ENGLAND.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Sidney Webb</span>, LL.B.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>11.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>12.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**13.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>E. Belfort Bax.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>14.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE CO-OPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Laurence Gronlund.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>15.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Bernard Bosanquet</span>, M.A. (Oxon.).</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>16.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CHARITY ORGANISATION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>C. S. Loch</span>, Secretary to Charity Organisation Society.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>17.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THOREAU’S ANTI-SLAVERY AND REFORM PAPERS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Edited by <span class='sc'>H. S. Salt</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>18.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SELF-HELP A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>G. J. Holyoake.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>19, 20.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>21.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE UNEARNED INCREMENT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>W. H. Dawson.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>22, 23.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*24.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LUXURY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Emile de Laveleye.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**25.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE LAND AND THE LABOURERS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Dean <span class='sc'>Stubbs</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>26.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE EVOLUTION OF PROPERTY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Paul Lafargue.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>27.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CRIME AND ITS CAUSES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>W. Douglas Morrison.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*28.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>PRINCIPLES OF STATE INTERFERENCE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>D. G. Ritchie</span>, M.A.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>29, 30.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>31.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ORIGIN OF PROPERTY IN LAND.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Fustel de Coulanges.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr><td class='c029' colspan='3'>Edited, with an Introductory Chapter on the English Manor, by Prof. <span class='sc'>W. J. Ashley</span>, M.A.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>32.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>33.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Beatrice Potter.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>34.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>35.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>MODERN HUMANISTS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. M. Robertson.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**36.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>OUTLOOKS FROM THE NEW STANDPOINT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>E. Belfort Bax.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>37.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>DISTRIBUTING CO-OPERATIVE SOCIETIES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Dr. <span class='sc'>Luigi Pizzamiglio</span>. Edited by <span class='sc'>F. J. Snell</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>38.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>39.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE LONDON PROGRAMME.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Sidney Webb</span>, LL.B.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>40.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>42.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*43.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE STUDENT’S MARX.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Edward Aveling</span>, D.Sc.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>44.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>45.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>POVERTY: ITS GENESIS AND EXODUS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. G. Godard.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>46.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>47.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE DAWN OF RADICALISM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. B. Daly</span>, LL.D.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>48.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE DESTITUTE ALIEN IN GREAT BRITAIN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Arnold White</span>; <span class='sc'>Montague Crackanthorpe</span>, Q.C.; <span class='sc'>W. A. M‘Arthur</span>, M.P., &c.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>49.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ILLEGITIMACY AND THE INFLUENCE OF SEASONS ON CONDUCT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Albert Leffingwell</span>, M.D.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>50.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>COMMERCIAL CRISES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>H. M. Hyndman.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>51.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE STATE AND PENSIONS IN OLD AGE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. A. Spender</span> and <span class='sc'>Arthur Acland</span>, M.P.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>52.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE FALLACY OF SAVING.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>John M. Robertson.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>53.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE IRISH PEASANT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*54.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE EFFECTS OF MACHINERY ON WAGES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>J. S. Nicholson</span>, D.Sc.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**55.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE SOCIAL HORIZON.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>56.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SOCIALISM, UTOPIAN AND SCIENTIFIC.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Frederick Engels.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>**57.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LAND NATIONALISATION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>A. R. Wallace.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>58.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE ETHIC OF USURY AND INTEREST.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Rev. <span class='sc'>W. Blissard</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*59.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE EMANCIPATION OF WOMEN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Adele Crepaz.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>60.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE EIGHT HOURS’ QUESTION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>John M. Robertson.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>61.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>DRUNKENNESS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>George R. Wilson</span>, M.B.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>62.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE NEW REFORMATION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Ramsden Balmforth.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*63.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE AGRICULTURAL LABOURER.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>T. E. Kebbel.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>64.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>65.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ENGLAND’S FOREIGN TRADE IN XIXTH CENTURY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>A. L. Bowley.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>66.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THEORY AND POLICY OF LABOUR PROTECTION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Dr. Schäffle.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>67.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>HISTORY OF ROCHDALE PIONEERS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>G. J. Holyoake.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>68.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>RIGHTS OF WOMEN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>M. Ostragorski.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>69.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>DWELLINGS OF THE PEOPLE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Locke Worthington.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>70–75.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>76.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>BRITISH FREEWOMEN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>C. M. Stopes.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>77, 78.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>79.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THREE MONTHS IN A WORKSHOP.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>P. Göhre</span>, with Preface by Prof. <span class='sc'>Ely</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>80.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>DARWINISM AND RACE PROGRESS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>J. B. Haycraft</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>81.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LOCAL TAXATION AND FINANCE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>G. H. Blunden.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>82.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>PERILS TO BRITISH TRADE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>E. Burgis.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>83.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE SOCIAL CONTRACT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. J. Rousseau.</span> Edited by <span class='sc'>H. J. Tozer</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>84.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LABOUR UPON THE LAND.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Edited by <span class='sc'>J. A. Hobson</span>, M.A.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>85.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>MORAL PATHOLOGY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Arthur E. Giles</span>, M.D., B.Sc.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>86.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>PARASITISM, ORGANIC AND SOCIAL.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Massart</span> and <span class='sc'>Vandervelde</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*87.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ALLOTMENTS AND SMALL HOLDINGS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. L. Green.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*88.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>MONEY AND ITS RELATIONS TO PRICES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>L. L. Price.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>89.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SOBER BY ACT OF PARLIAMENT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>F. A. Mackenzie.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>90.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>WORKERS ON THEIR INDUSTRIES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>F. W. Galton.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>91.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>REVOLUTION AND COUNTER-REVOLUTION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Karl Marx.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>92.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>OVER-PRODUCTION AND CRISES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>K. Rodbertus.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>93.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LOCAL GOVERNMENT AND STATE AID.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>S. J. Chapman.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>94.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>VILLAGE COMMUNITIES IN INDIA.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>B. H. Baden-Powell</span>, M.A., C.I.E.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>95.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ANGLO-AMERICAN TRADE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>S. J. Chapman.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>96.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>97.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>COMMERCIAL FEDERATION & COLONIAL TRADE POLICY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>J. Davidson</span>, M.A., Phil.D.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>98.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SELECTIONS FROM FOURIER.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>C. Gide</span> and <span class='sc'>J. Franklin</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>99.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>PUBLIC-HOUSE REFORM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>A. N. Cumming.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>100.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE VILLAGE PROBLEM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>G. F. Millin.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>101.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>TOWARD THE LIGHT.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>L. H. Berens.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>102.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CHRISTIAN SOCIALISM IN ENGLAND.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>A. V. Woodworth.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>103.</td> + <td class='c009'><i>Out of print.</i></td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>104.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH CORN LAWS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>J. S. Nicholson</span>, M.A.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>105.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE BIOLOGY OF BRITISH POLITICS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Charles H. Harvey.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*106.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>RATES AND TAXES AS AFFECTING AGRICULTURE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>J. S. Nicholson</span>, M.A.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>107.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>A PRACTICAL PROGRAMME FOR WORKING MEN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>108.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>JOHN THELWALL.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Chas. Cestre</span>, Litt.D.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*109.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>RENT, WAGES AND PROFITS IN AGRICULTURE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'>Prof. <span class='sc'>J. S. Nicholson</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>110.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ECONOMIC PREJUDICES.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Yves Guyot.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>111.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CONTEMPORARY SOCIAL PROBLEMS.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Achille Loria.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>*112.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>WHO PAYS? THE REAL INCIDENCE OF TAXATION.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Robert Henry.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr><td class='c029' colspan='3'>DOUBLE VOLUMES, 3s. 6d.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + <td class='c028'> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>1.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>LIFE OF ROBERT OWEN.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Lloyd Jones.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>2.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF SOCIAL DEMOCRACY</strong>: a Second Part of “The Quintessence of Socialism.”</td> + <td class='c028'>Dr. <span class='sc'>A. Schäffle</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>3.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>CONDITION OF THE WORKING CLASS IN ENGLAND IN 1844.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Frederick Engels.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>4.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL ECONOMY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>Yves Guyot.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>5.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SOCIAL PEACE.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>G. von Schultze-Garvernitz.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>6.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>A HANDBOOK OF SOCIALISM.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>W. D. P. Bliss.</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>7.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>SOCIALISM: ITS GROWTH AND OUTCOME.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>W. Morris</span> and <span class='sc'>E. B. Bax</span>.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'>8.</td> + <td class='c009'><strong>ECONOMIC FOUNDATIONS OF SOCIETY.</strong></td> + <td class='c028'><span class='sc'>A. Loria.</span></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1 c002'> + <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + + </li> + <li>Renumbered footnotes and moved them all to the end of the final chapter. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78612 ***</div> +</body> +<!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-05-05 21:23:53 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/78612-h/images/cover.jpg b/78612-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be3798 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i009.jpg b/78612-h/images/i009.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5de3d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i009.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i039.jpg b/78612-h/images/i039.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9d20f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i039.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i049.jpg b/78612-h/images/i049.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2372e22 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i049.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i078.jpg b/78612-h/images/i078.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f2eaae --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i078.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i079.jpg b/78612-h/images/i079.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f81245b --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i079.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i112.jpg b/78612-h/images/i112.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b55b01 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i112.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i120.jpg b/78612-h/images/i120.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c92266 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i120.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i144.jpg b/78612-h/images/i144.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b21d836 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i144.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i161.jpg b/78612-h/images/i161.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d0fe4b --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i161.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i178.jpg b/78612-h/images/i178.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61ba037 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i178.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i187.jpg b/78612-h/images/i187.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ea33ce --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i187.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i197.jpg b/78612-h/images/i197.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0562e9c --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i197.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i231.jpg b/78612-h/images/i231.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5ee555 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i231.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i282.jpg b/78612-h/images/i282.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0948ba5 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i282.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i299.jpg b/78612-h/images/i299.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b72f9b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i299.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i310.jpg b/78612-h/images/i310.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf486b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i310.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i335.jpg b/78612-h/images/i335.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3d822d --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i335.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i_frontis.jpg b/78612-h/images/i_frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8595d02 --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i_frontis.jpg diff --git a/78612-h/images/i_title.jpg b/78612-h/images/i_title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..443f5ba --- /dev/null +++ b/78612-h/images/i_title.jpg |
