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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hugh, by Arthur Christopher Benson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Hugh
+       Memoirs of a Brother
+
+
+Author: Arthur Christopher Benson
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006  [eBook #18615]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUGH***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stacy Brown, Geoff Horton, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 18615-h.htm or 18615-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/1/18615/18615-h/18615-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/1/18615/18615-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+HUGH
+
+Memoirs of a Brother
+
+by
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
+
+Fifth Impression
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _But there is more than I can see,
+      And what I see I leave unsaid,
+      Nor speak it, knowing Death has made
+    His darkness beautiful with thee._
+
+
+[Illustration: _From Copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York_
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+IN 1912. AGED 40
+In the robes of a Papal Chamberlain.]
+
+
+
+Longmans, Green, and Co.
+Fourth Avenue & 30th Street, New York
+1916
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+This book was begun with no hope or intention of making a formal and
+finished biography, but only to place on record some of my brother's
+sayings and doings, to fix scenes and memories before they suffered from
+any dim obliteration of time, to catch, if I could, for my own comfort
+and delight, the tone and sense of that vivid and animated atmosphere
+which Hugh always created about him. His arrival upon any scene was
+never in the smallest degree uproarious, and still less was it in the
+least mild or serene; yet he came into a settled circle like a freshet
+of tumbling water into a still pool!
+
+I knew all along that I could not attempt any account of what may be
+called his public life, which all happened since he became a Roman
+Catholic. He passed through many circles--in England, in Rome, in
+America--of which I knew nothing. I never heard him make a public
+speech, and I only once heard him preach since he ceased to be an
+Anglican. This was not because I thought he would convert me, nor
+because I shrank from hearing him preach a doctrine to which I did not
+adhere, nor for any sectarian reason. Indeed, I regret not having heard
+him preach and speak oftener; it would have interested me, and it would
+have been kinder and more brotherly; but one is apt not to do the things
+which one thinks one can always do, and the fact that I did not hear him
+was due to a mixture of shyness and laziness, which I now regret in
+vain.
+
+But I think that his life as a Roman Catholic ought to be written fully
+and carefully, because there were many people who trusted and admired
+and loved him as a priest who would wish to have some record of his
+days. He left me, by a will, which we are carrying out, though it was
+not duly executed, all his letters, papers, and manuscripts, and we
+have arranged to have an official biography of him written, and have
+placed all his papers in the hands of a Catholic biographer, Father C.
+C. Martindale, S.J.
+
+Since Hugh died I have read a good many notices of him, which have
+appeared mostly in Roman Catholic organs. These were, as a rule, written
+by people who had only known him as a Catholic, and gave an obviously
+incomplete view of his character and temperament. It could not well have
+been otherwise, but the result was that only one side of a very varied
+and full life was presented. He was depicted in a particular office and
+in a specific mood. This was certainly his most real and eager mood, and
+deserves to be emphasized. But he had other moods and other sides, and
+his life before he became a Catholic had a charm and vigour of its own.
+
+Moreover, his family affection was very strong; when he became a
+Catholic, we all of us felt, including himself, that there might be a
+certain separation, not of affection, but of occupations and interests;
+and he himself took very great care to avoid this, with the happy result
+that we saw him, I truly believe, more often and more intimately than
+ever before. Indeed, my own close companionship with him really began
+when he came first as a Roman Catholic to Cambridge.
+
+And so I have thought it well to draw in broad strokes and simple
+outlines a picture of his personality as we, his family, knew and loved
+it. It is only a _study_, so to speak, and is written very informally
+and directly. Formal biographies, as I know from experience, must
+emphasise a different aspect. They deal, as they are bound to do, with
+public work and official activities; and the personal atmosphere often
+vanishes in the process--that subtle essence of quality, the effect of a
+man's talk and habits and prejudices and predispositions, which comes
+out freely in private life, and is even suspended in his public
+ministrations. It would be impossible, I believe, to make a presentment
+of Hugh which could be either dull or conventional. But, on the other
+hand, his life as a priest, a writer, a teacher, a controversialist, was
+to a certain extent governed and conditioned by circumstances; and I can
+see, from many accounts of him, that the more intimate and unrestrained
+side of him can only be partially discerned by those who knew him merely
+in an official capacity.
+
+That, then, is the history of this brief Memoir. It is just an attempt
+to show Hugh as he showed himself, freely and unaffectedly, to his own
+circle; and I am sure that this deserves to be told, for the one
+characteristic which emerges whenever I think of him is that of a
+beautiful charm, not without a touch of wilfulness and even petulance
+about it, which gave him a childlike freshness, a sparkling zest, that
+aerated and enlivened all that he did or said. It was a charm which made
+itself instantly felt, and yet it could be hardly imitated or adopted,
+because it was so entirely unconscious and unaffected. He enjoyed
+enacting his part, and he was as instinctively and whole-heartedly a
+priest as another man is a soldier or a lawyer. But his function did not
+wholly occupy and dominate his life; and, true priest though he was, the
+force and energy of his priesthood came at least in part from the fact
+that he was entirely and delightfully human, and I deeply desire that
+this should not be overlooked or forgotten.
+
+                                                 A. C. B.
+
+  Tremans, Horsted Keynes,
+
+    _December_ 26, 1914.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I
+
+HARE STREET                                              PAGES
+
+Garden--House--Rooms--Tapestry--Hare
+Street Discovered--A Hidden Treasure                      1-14
+
+
+II
+
+CHILDHOOD
+
+Birth--The Chancery--Beth                                15-24
+
+
+III
+
+TRURO
+
+Lessons--Early Verses--Physical Sensitiveness--A
+Secret Society--My Father--A Puppet-Show                 25-41
+
+
+IV
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+First Schooldays--Eton--Religious Impressions--A
+Colleger                                                 42-51
+
+
+V
+
+AT WREN'S
+
+Sunday Work--Artistic
+Temperament--Liturgy--Ritual--Artistic Nature            52-65
+
+
+VI
+
+CAMBRIDGE
+
+Mountain--climbing--Genealogy--Economy--Hypnotism--The
+Call--My Mother--Nelly                                   66-81
+
+
+VII
+
+LLANDAFF
+
+Dean Vaughan--Community Life--Ordained Deacon            82-88
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE ETON MISSION
+
+Hackney Wick--Boys' Clubs--Preaching--My
+Father's Death                                           89-99
+
+
+IX
+
+KEMSING AND MIRFIELD
+
+Development--Mirfield--The
+Community--Sermons--Preaching                          100-113
+
+
+X
+
+THE CHANGE
+
+Leaving Mirfield--Considerations--Argument--
+Discussion--Roddy--Consultation                        114-129
+
+
+XI
+
+THE DECISION
+
+Anglicanism--Individualism--Asceticism--A
+Centre of Unity--Liberty and Discipline--
+Catholicism--The Surrender--Reception--Rome            130-151
+
+
+XII
+
+CAMBRIDGE AGAIN
+
+Llandaff House--Our Companionship--Rudeness--The
+Catholic Rectory--Spiritual Direction--
+Mystery-Plays--Retirement                              152-167
+
+
+XIII
+
+HARE STREET
+
+Ken--Engagements--Christmas--Visits                    168-175
+
+
+XIV
+
+AUTHORSHIP
+
+The Light Invisible--His Books--Methods of
+Writing--Love of Writing--The Novels                   176-187
+
+
+XV
+
+FAILING HEALTH
+
+Illness--Medical advice--Pneumonia                     188-195
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE END
+
+Manchester--Last Illness--Last Hours--Anxiety--Last
+Words--Passing on                                      196-208
+
+
+XVII
+
+BURIAL
+
+His Papers--After-Thoughts--The Bond of Love           209-215
+
+
+XVIII
+
+PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
+
+Courage--Humour--Manliness--Stammering--
+Eagerness--Independence--Forward                       216-230
+
+
+XIX
+
+RETROSPECT
+
+Boyhood--Vocation--Independence--Self-Discipline       231-240
+
+
+XX
+
+ATTAINMENT
+
+Priesthood--Self-Devotion--Sympathy--Power--Energy     241-252
+
+
+XXI
+
+TEMPERAMENT
+
+Courtesy--Chivalry--Fearlessness--Himself              253-261
+
+
+INDEX                                                  263-265
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 40.
+In the Robes of a Papal Chamberlain             _Frontispiece_
+  _From copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York._
+
+Hare Street House                                _Facing page_
+  From the front, 1914                                       2
+  From the garden, 1914                                      4
+
+The Master's Lodge, Wellington College, 1868                16
+
+Robert Hugh Benson and Beth at the Chancery,
+Lincoln, in 1876, aged 5                                    20
+
+The Three Brothers, 1882                                    44
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1889, aged 17. As
+Steerer of the _St. George_, at Eton                        48
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1893, aged 21. As an
+Undergraduate at Cambridge                                  68
+
+Mrs. Benson                                                 76
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1907, aged 35                        158
+
+At Hare Street, 1909                                       168
+
+Hare Street, in the Garden, July 1911                      174
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1910, aged 39                        184
+
+At Tremans, Horsted Keynes, December, 1913                 188
+
+Bishop's House, Salford                                    200
+
+The Calvary at Hare Street, 1913                           208
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 40                        250
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 41                        258
+
+
+
+
+      "Then said _Great-heart_ to Mr. _Valiant-for-Truth_, Thou hast
+      worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it
+      him. When he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while,
+      he said, _Ha, it is a right Jerusalem Blade!_"
+
+      _The Pilgrim's Progress._
+
+
+
+
+HUGH
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+HARE STREET
+
+
+How loudly and boisterously the wind roared to-day across the low-hung,
+cloud-smeared sky, driving the broken rack before it, warm and wet out
+of the south! What a wintry landscape! leafless trees bending beneath
+the onset of the wind, bare and streaming hedges, pale close-reaped
+wheat-fields, brown ploughland, spare pastures stretching away to left
+and right, softly rising and falling to the horizon; nothing visible but
+distant belts of trees and coverts, with here and there the tower of a
+hidden church overtopping them, and a windmill or two; on the left, long
+lines of willows marking the course of a stream. The road soaked with
+rain, the grasses heavy with it, hardly a human being to be seen.
+
+I came at last to a village straggling along each side of the road; to
+the right, a fantastic-looking white villa, with many bow-windows, and
+an orchard behind it. Then on the left, a great row of beeches on the
+edge of a pasture; and then, over the barns and ricks of a farm, rose
+the clustered chimneys of an old house; and soon we drew up at a big
+iron gate between tall red-brick gateposts; beyond it a paling, with a
+row of high lime trees bordering a garden lawn, and on beyond that the
+irregular village street.
+
+From the gate a little flagged pathway leads up to the front of a long,
+low house, of mellow brick, with a solid cornice and parapet, over which
+the tiled roof is visible: a door in the centre, with two windows on
+each side and five windows above--just the sort of house that you find
+in a cathedral close. To the left of the iron gate are two other tall
+gateposts, with a road leading up to the side of the house, and a yard
+with a row of stables behind.
+
+Let me describe the garden first. All along the front and south side of
+the house runs a flagged pathway, a low brick wall dividing it from the
+lawn, with plants in rough red pots on little pilasters at intervals. To
+the right, as we face the door, the lawn runs along the road, and
+stretches back into the garden. There are tall, lopped lime-trees all
+round the lawn, in the summer making a high screen of foliage, but now
+bare. If we take the flagged path round the house, turn the corner, and
+go towards the garden, the yew trees grow thick and close, forming an
+arched walk at the corner, half screening an old irregular building of
+woodwork and plaster, weather-boarded in places, with a tiled roof,
+connected with the house by a little covered cloister with wooden
+pillars. If we pass that by, pursuing the path among the yew trees, we
+come out on a pleasant orchard, with a few flower-beds, thickly
+encircled by shrubs, beyond which, towards the main road, lies a
+comfortable-looking old red-brick cottage, with a big barn and a long
+garden, which evidently belongs to the larger house, because a gate in
+the paling stands open. Then there is another little tiled building
+behind the shrubs, where you can hear an engine at work, for electric
+light and water-pumping, and beyond that again, but still connected with
+the main house, stands another house among trees, of rough-cast and
+tiles, with an open wooden gallery, in a garden of its own.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Bishop, Barkway_
+
+HARE STREET HOUSE
+
+FROM THE FRONT 1914
+
+The room to the left of the door is the dining room, with Hugh's bedroom
+over it. To the right of the door is the library.]
+
+In the orchard itself is a large grass-grown mound, with a rough wooden
+cross on the top; and down below that, in the orchard, is a newly-made
+grave, still covered, as I saw it to-day, with wreaths of leaves and
+moss, tied some of them with stained purple ribbons. The edge of the
+grave-mound is turfed, but the bare and trodden grass shows that many
+feet have crossed and recrossed the ground.
+
+The orchard is divided on the left from a further and larger garden by a
+dense growth of old hazels; and passing through an alley you see that a
+broad path runs concealed among the hazels, a pleasant shady walk in
+summer heat. Then the larger garden stretches in front of you; it is a
+big place, with rows of vegetables, fruit-trees, and flower-borders,
+screened to the east by a row of elms and dense shrubberies of laurel.
+Along the north runs a high red-brick wall, with a big old-fashioned
+vine-house in the centre, of careful design. In the corner nearest the
+house is a large rose-garden, with a brick pedestal in the centre,
+behind which rises the back of the stable, also of old red brick.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Bishop, Barkway_
+
+HARE STREET HOUSE
+
+FROM THE GARDEN 1914
+
+The timbered building on the left is the Chapel; in the foreground
+is the unfinished rose-garden.]
+
+But now there is a surprise; the back of the house is much older than
+the front. You see that it is a venerable Tudor building, with pretty
+panels of plaster embossed with a rough pattern. The moulded brick
+chimney-stacks are Tudor too, while the high gables cluster and lean
+together with a picturesque outline. The back of the house forms a
+little court, with the cloister of which I spoke before running round
+two sides of it. Another great yew tree stands there: while a doorway
+going into the timber and plaster building which I mentioned before has
+a rough device on it of a papal tiara and keys, carved in low relief and
+silvered.
+
+A friendly black collie comes out of a kennel and desires a little
+attention. He licks my hand and looks at me with melting brown eyes, but
+has an air of expecting to see someone else as well. A black cat comes
+out of a door, runs beside us, and when picked up, clasps my shoulder
+contentedly and purrs in my ear.
+
+The house seen from the back looks exactly what it is, a little old
+family mansion of a line of small squires, who farmed their own land,
+and lived on their own produce, though the barns and rick-yard belong to
+the house no longer. The red-brick front is just an addition made for
+the sake of stateliness at some time of prosperity. It is a charming
+self-contained little place, with a forgotten family tradition of its
+own, a place which could twine itself about the heart, and be loved and
+remembered by children brought up there, when far away. There is no sign
+of wealth about it, but every sign of ease and comfort and simple
+dignity.
+
+Now we will go back to the front door and go through the house itself.
+The door opens into a tiny hall lighted by the glass panes of the door,
+and bright with pictures--oil paintings and engravings. The furniture
+old and sturdy, and a few curiosities about--carvings, weapons, horns of
+beasts. To the left a door opens into a pleasant dining-room, with two
+windows looking out in front, dark as dining-rooms may well be. It is
+hung with panels of green cloth, it has a big open Tudor fireplace, with
+a big oak settle, some china on an old dresser, a solid table and
+chairs, and a hatch in the corner through which dishes can be handed.
+
+Opposite, on the other side of the hall, a door opens into a long low
+library, with books all round in white shelves. There is a big grand
+piano here, a very solid narrow oak table with a chest below, a bureau,
+and some comfortable chintz-covered chairs with a deep sofa. A perfect
+room to read or to hear music in, with its two windows to the front, and
+a long window opening down to the ground at the south end. All the books
+here are catalogued, and each has its place. If you go out into the hall
+again and pass through, a staircase goes up into the house, the walls of
+it panelled, and hung with engravings; some of the panels are carved
+with holy emblems. At the foot of the stairs a door on the right takes
+you into a small sitting-room, with a huge stone fireplace; a big window
+looks south, past the dark yew trees, on to the lawn. There are little
+devices in the quarries of the window, and a deep window-seat. The room
+is hung with a curious tapestry, brightly coloured medi�val figures
+standing out from a dark background. There is not room for much
+furniture here; a square oak stand for books, a chair or two by the
+fire. Parallel to the wall, with a chair behind it filling up much of
+the space, is a long, solid old oak table, set out for writing. It is a
+perfect study for quiet work, warm in winter with its log fire, and
+cool in summer heat.
+
+To the left of the staircase a door goes into a roughly panelled
+ante-room which leads out on to the cloister, and beyond that a large
+stone-flagged kitchen, with offices beyond.
+
+If you go upstairs, you find a panelled corridor with bedrooms. The one
+over the study is small and dark, and said to be haunted. That over the
+library is a big pleasant room with a fine marble fireplace--a boudoir
+once, I should think. Over the hall is another dark panelled room with a
+four-post bed, the walls hung with a most singular and rather terrible
+tapestry, representing a dance of death.
+
+Beyond that, over the dining-room, is a beautiful panelled room, with a
+Tudor fireplace, and a bed enclosed by blue curtains. This was Hugh's
+own room. Out of it opens a tiny dressing-room. Beyond that is another
+large low room over the kitchen, which has been half-study,
+half-bedroom, out of which opens a little stairway going to some little
+rooms beyond over the offices.
+
+Above that again are some quaint white-washed attics with dormers and
+leaning walls; one or two of these are bedrooms. One, very large and
+long, runs along most of the front, and has a curious leaden channel in
+it a foot above the floor to take the rain-water off the leads of the
+roof. Out of another comes a sweet smell of stored apples, which revives
+the memory of childish visits to farm storerooms--and here stands a
+pretty and quaint old pipe-organ awaiting renovation.
+
+We must retrace our steps to the building at the back to which the
+cloister leads. We enter a little sacristy and vestry, and beyond is a
+dark chapel, with a side-chapel opening out of it. It was originally an
+old brew-house, with a timbered roof. The sanctuary is now divided off
+by a high open screen, of old oak, reaching nearly to the roof. The
+whole place is full of statues, carved and painted, embroidered
+hangings, stained glass, pendent lamps, emblems; there is a gallery
+over the sacristy, with an organ, and a fine piece of old embroidery
+displayed on the gallery front.
+
+This is the house in which for seven years my brother Hugh lived. Let me
+recall how he first came to see it. He was at Cambridge then, working as
+an assistant priest. He became aware that his work lay rather in the
+direction of speaking, preaching, and writing, and resolved to establish
+himself in some quiet country retreat. One summer I visited several
+houses in Hertfordshire with him, but they proved unsuitable. One of
+these possessed an extraordinary attraction for him. It was in a bleak
+remote village, and it was a fine old house which had fallen from its
+high estate. It stood on the road and was used as a grocer's shop. It
+was much dilapidated, and there was little ground about it, but inside
+there were old frescoes and pictures, strange plaster friezes and
+moulded ceilings, which had once been brightly coloured. But nothing
+would have made it a really attractive house, in spite of the curious
+beauty of its adornment.
+
+One day I was returning alone from an excursion, and passed by what we
+call accident through Hare Street, the village which I have described. I
+caught a glimpse of the house through the iron gates, and saw that there
+was a board up saying it was for sale. A few days later I went there
+with Hugh. It was all extremely desolate, but we found a friendly
+caretaker who led us round. The shrubberies had grown into dense
+plantations, the orchard was a tangled waste of grass, the garden was
+covered with weeds. I remember Hugh's exclamation of regret that we had
+visited the place. "It is _exactly_ what I want," he said, "but it is
+_far_ too expensive. I wish I had never set eyes on it!" However, he
+found that it had long been unlet, and that no one would buy it. He
+might have had the pasture-land and the farm-buildings as well, and he
+afterwards regretted that he had not bought them, but his income from
+writing was still small. However, he offered what seems to me now an
+extraordinarily low sum for the house and garden; it was to his
+astonishment at once accepted. It was all going to ruin, and the owner
+was glad to get rid of it on any terms. He established himself there
+with great expedition, and set to work to renovate the place. At a later
+date he bought the adjacent cottage, and the paddock in which he built
+the other house, and he also purchased some outlying fields, one a
+charming spot on the road to Buntingford, with some fine old trees,
+where he had an idea of building a church.
+
+Everything in the little domain took shape under his skilful hand and
+ingenious brain. He made most of the tapestries in the house with his
+own fingers, working with his friend Mr. Gabriel Pippet the artist. He
+carved much of the panelling--he was extraordinarily clever with his
+hands. He painted many of the pictures which hang on the walls, he
+catalogued the library; he worked day after day in the garden, weeding,
+rowing, and planting. In all this he had the advantage of the skill,
+capacity, and invention of his factotum and friend, Mr. Joseph Reeman,
+who could turn his hand to anything and everything with equal energy and
+taste; and so the whole place grew and expanded in his hands, until
+there is hardly a detail, indoors or out-of-doors, which does not show
+some trace of his fancy and his touch.
+
+There were some strange old traditions about the house; it was said to
+be haunted, and more than one of his guests had inexplicable experiences
+there. It was also said that there was a hidden treasure concealed in or
+about it. That treasure Hugh certainly discovered, in the delight which
+he took in restoring, adorning, and laying it all out. It was a source
+of constant joy to him in his life. And there, in the midst of it all,
+his body lies.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CHILDHOOD
+
+
+I very well remember the sudden appearance of Hugh in the nursery world,
+and being conducted into a secluded dressing-room, adjacent to the
+nursery, where the tiny creature lay, lost in contented dreams, in a
+big, white-draped, white-hooded cradle. It was just a rather pleasing
+and exciting event to us children, not particularly wonderful or
+remarkable. It was at Wellington College that he was born, in the
+Master's Lodge, in a sunny bedroom, in the south-east corner of the
+house; one of its windows looking to the south front of the college and
+the chapel with its slender spire; the other window looking over the
+garden and a waste of heather beyond, to the fir-crowned hill of
+Ambarrow. My father had been Headmaster for twelve years and was
+nearing the end of his time there; and I was myself nine years old, and
+shortly to go to a private school, where my elder brother Martin already
+was. My two sisters, Nelly and Maggie, were respectively eight and six,
+and my brother, Fred, was four--six in all.
+
+And by a freak of memory I recollect, too, that at breakfast on the
+following morning my father--half-shyly, half-proudly, I
+thought--announced the fact of Hugh's birth to the boys whom he had
+asked in, as his custom was, to breakfast, and how they offered
+embarrassed congratulations, not being sure, I suppose, exactly what the
+right phrase was.
+
+Then came the christening, which took place at Sandhurst Church, a mile
+or two away, to which we walked by the pine-clad hill of Edgebarrow and
+the heathery moorland known as Cock-a-Dobbie. Mr. Parsons was the
+clergyman--a little handsome old man, like an abb�, with a clear-cut
+face and thick white hair. I am afraid that the ceremony had no
+religious significance for me at that time, but I was deeply
+interested, thought it rather cruel, and was shocked at Hugh's
+indecorous outcry. He was called Robert, an old family name, and Hugh,
+in honour of St. Hugh of Lincoln, where my father was a Prebendary, and
+because he was born on the day before St. Hugh's Feast. And then I
+really remember nothing more of him for a time, except for a scene in
+the nursery on some wet afternoon when the baby--Robin as he was at
+first called--insisted on being included in some game of tents made by
+pinning shawls over the tops of chairs, he being then, as always,
+perfectly clear what his wishes were, and equally clear that they were
+worth attending to and carrying out.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Hills & Saunders_
+
+THE MASTER'S LODGE, WELLINGTON COLLEGE, 1868
+
+The room to the left of the porch is the study. In the room above it
+Hugh was born.]
+
+Then I vividly recall how in 1875, when we were all returning _en
+famille_ from a long summer holiday spent at Torquay in a pleasant house
+lent us in Meadfoot Bay, we all travelled together in a third-class
+carriage; how it fell to my lot to have the amusing of Hugh, and how
+difficult he was to amuse, because he wished to look out of the window
+the whole time, and to make remarks on everything. But at Lincoln I
+hardly remember anything of him at all, because I was at school with my
+elder brother, and only came back for the holidays; and we two had
+moreover a little sanctum of our own, a small sitting-room named Bec by
+my father, who had a taste for pleasant traditions, after Anthony Bec,
+the warlike Bishop of Durham, who had once been Chancellor of Lincoln.
+Here we arranged our collections and attended to our own concerns,
+hardly having anything to do with the nursery life, except to go to tea
+there and to play games in the evening. The one thing I do remember is
+that Hugh would under no circumstances and for no considerations ever
+consent to go into a room in the dark by himself, being extremely
+imaginative and nervous; and that on one occasion when he was asked what
+he expected to befall him, he said with a shudder and a stammer: "To
+fall over a mangled corpse, squish! into a pool of gore!"
+
+When he was between four and five years old, at Lincoln, one of his
+godfathers, Mr. Penny, an old friend and colleague of my father's at
+Wellington College, came to stay at the Chancery, and brought Hugh a
+Bible. My mother was sitting with Mr. Penny in the drawing-room after
+luncheon, when Hugh, in a little black velvet suit, his flaxen hair
+brushed till it gleamed with radiance, his face the picture of
+innocence, bearing the Bible, a very image of early piety, entered the
+room, and going up to his godfather, said with his little stammer:
+"Tha-a-ank you, Godpapa, for this beautiful Bible! will you read me some
+of it?"
+
+Mr. Penny beamed with delight, and took the Bible. My mother rose to
+leave the room, feeling almost unworthy of being present at so sacred an
+interview, but as she reached the door, she heard Mr. Penny say: "And
+what shall I read about?" "The De-e-evil!" said Hugh without the least
+hesitation. My mother closed the door and came back.
+
+There was one member of our family circle for whom Hugh did undoubtedly
+cherish a very deep and tender affection from the time when his
+affections first awoke--this was for the beloved Beth, the old family
+nurse. Beth became nurse-maid to my grandmother, Mrs. Sidgwick, as a
+young girl; and the first of her nurslings, whom she tended through an
+attack of smallpox, catching the complaint herself, was my uncle,
+William Sidgwick, still alive as a vigorous octogenarian. Henry
+Sidgwick, Arthur Sidgwick, and my mother were all under Beth's care.
+Then she came on with my mother to Wellington College and nursed us all
+with the simplest and sweetest goodness and devotion. For Hugh, as the
+last of her "children," she had the tenderest love, and lavished her
+care, and indeed her money, on him. When we were all dispersed for a
+time after my father's death, Beth went to her Yorkshire relations, and
+pined away in separation from her dear ones. Hugh returned alone and
+earlier than the rest, and Beth could bear it no longer, but came up
+from Yorkshire just to get a glimpse of Hugh at a station in London as
+he passed through, had a few words with him and a kiss, and gave him
+some little presents which she thought he might like, returning to
+Yorkshire tired out but comforted. I have always thought that little
+journey one of the most touching and beautiful acts of love and service
+I have ever heard of. She was nearly eighty at the time.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by R. Slingsby, Lincoln_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON AND BETH
+
+AT THE CHANCERY, LINCOLN
+
+IN 1876. AGED 5]
+
+In early days she watched over Hugh, did anything and everything for
+him; when he got older she used to delight to wait on him, to pack and
+unpack for him, to call him in the mornings, and secretly to purchase
+clothes and toilet articles to replace anything worn out or lost. In
+later days the thought that he was coming home used to make her radiant
+for days before. She used to come tapping at my door before dinner, and
+sit down for a little talk. "I know what you are thinking about, Beth!"
+"What is it, dear?" "Why, about Hugh, of course! You don't care for
+anyone else when he is coming." "No, don't say that, dear--but I _am_
+pleased to think that Master Hugh is coming home for a bit--I hope he
+won't be very tired!" And she used to smooth down her apron with her
+toil-worn hands and beam to herself at the prospect. He always went and
+sat with her for a little in the evenings, in her room full of all the
+old nursery treasures, and imitated her smilingly. "Nay, now, child!
+I've spoken, and that is enough!" he used to say, while she laughed for
+delight. She used to say farewell to him with tears, and wave her
+handkerchief at the window till the carriage was out of sight. Even in
+her last long illness, as she faded out of life, at over ninety years of
+age, she was made perfectly happy by the thought that he was in the
+house, and only sorry that she could not look after his things.
+
+Beth had had but little education; she could read a little in a
+well-known book, but writing was always a slow and difficult business;
+but she used slowly to compile a little letter from time to time to
+Hugh, and I find the following put away among the papers of his Eton
+days and schoolboy correspondence:
+
+                                                  Addington Park,
+
+                                       [? _Nov._ 1887] _Tuesday._
+
+      Dearest,--One line to tell you I am sending your Box
+      to-morrow Wednesday. I hope you will get it before tea-time. I
+      know you will like something for tea, you can keep your cake for
+      your Birthday. I shall think about you on Friday. Everybody has
+      gone away, so I had no one to write for me. I thought you would
+      not mind me writing to you.--Dearest love from your dear
+
+                                                       Beth.
+
+The dear Beth lived wholly in love and service; she loved just as she
+worked, endlessly and ungrudgingly; wherever Beth is, she will find
+service to render and children to love; and I cannot think that she has
+not found the way to her darling, and he to her.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+TRURO
+
+
+We all went off again to Truro in 1877, when my father was made Bishop.
+The tradition was that as the train, leaving Lincoln, drew up after five
+minutes at the first small station on the line, perhaps Navenby, a
+little voice in the corner said: "Is this Truro?" A journey by train was
+for many years a great difficulty for Hugh, as it always made him ill,
+owing to the motion of the carriage.
+
+At Truro he becomes a much more definite figure in my recollections. He
+was a delicately made, light-haired, blue-eyed child, looking rather
+angelic in a velvet suit, and with small, neat feet, of which he was
+supposed to be unduly aware. He had at that time all sorts of odd
+tricks, winkings and twitchings; and one very aggravating habit, in
+walking, of putting his feet together suddenly, stopping and looking
+down at them, while he muttered to himself the mystic formula, "Knuck,
+Nunks." But one thing about him was very distinct indeed, that he was
+entirely impervious to the public opinion of the nursery, and could
+neither be ridiculed nor cajoled out of continuing to do anything he
+chose to do. He did not care the least what was said, nor had he any
+morbid fears, as I certainly had as a child, of being disliked or mocked
+at. He went his own way, knew what he wanted to do, and did it.
+
+My recollections of him are mainly of his extreme love of argument and
+the adroitness with which he conducted it. He did not intend to be put
+upon as the youngest, and it was supposed that if he was ever told to do
+anything, he always replied: "Why shouldn't Fred?" He invented an
+ingenious device which he once, and once only, practised with success,
+of goading my brother Fred by petty shafts of domestic insult into
+pursuing him, bent on vengeance. Hugh had prepared some small pieces of
+folded paper with a view to this contingency, and as Fred gave chase,
+Hugh flung two of his papers on the ground, being sure that Fred would
+stop to examine them. The ruse was quite successful, and while Fred was
+opening the papers, Hugh sought sanctuary in the nursery. Sometimes my
+sisters were deputed to do a lesson with him. My elder sister Nelly had
+a motherly instinct, and enjoyed a small responsibility. She would
+explain a rule of arithmetic to Hugh. He would assume an expression of
+despair: "I don't understand a word of it--you go so quick." Then it
+would be explained again: "Now do you understand?" "Of course I
+understand _that_." "Very well, do a sum." The sum would begin: "Oh,
+don't push me--don't come so near--I don't like having my face blown
+on." Presently my sister with angelic patience would show him a
+mistake. "Oh, don't interfere--you make it all mixed up in my head."
+Then he would be let alone for a little. Then he would put the slate
+down with an expression of despair and resignation; if my sister took no
+notice he would say: "I thought Mamma told you to help me in my sums?
+How can I understand without having it explained to me?" It was
+impossible to get the last word; indeed he used to give my sister
+Maggie, when she taught him, what he called "Temper-tickets," at the end
+of the lesson; and on one occasion, when he was to repeat a Sunday
+collect to her, he was at last reported to my mother, as being wholly
+intractable. This was deeply resented; and after my sister had gone to
+bed, a small piece of paper was pushed in beneath her door, on which was
+written: "The most unhappiest Sunday I ever spent in my life. Whose
+fault?"
+
+Again, when Maggie had found him extremely cross and tiresome one
+morning in the lessons she was taking, she discovered, when Hugh at
+last escaped, a piece of paper on the schoolroom table, on which he had
+written
+
+    "Passionate Magey
+    Toodle Ha! Ha!
+    The old gose."
+
+There was another story of how he was asked to write out a list of the
+things he wanted, with a view to a birthday that was coming. The list
+ended:
+
+    "A little compenshion goat, and
+    A tiny-winy train, and
+    A nice little pen."
+
+The diminutives were evidently intended to give the requirements a
+modest air. As for "compenshion," he had asked what some nursery animal
+was made of, a fracture having displayed a sort of tough fibrous
+plaster. He was told that it was made of "a composition."
+
+We used to play many rhyming games at that time; and Hugh at the age of
+eight wrote a poem about a swarm of gnats dancing in the sun, which
+ended:
+
+    "And when they see their comrades laid
+    In thousands round the garden glade,
+    They know they were not really made
+        To live for evermore."
+
+In one of these games, each player wrote a question which was to be
+answered by some other player in a poem; Hugh, who had been talked to
+about the necessity of overcoming some besetting sin in Lent, wrote with
+perfect good faith as his question, "What is your sin for Lent?"
+
+As a child, and always throughout his life, he was absolutely free from
+any touch of priggishness or precocious piety. He complained once to my
+sister that when he was taken out walks by his elders, he heard about
+nothing but "poetry and civilisation." In a friendly little memoir of
+him, which I have been sent, I find the following passage: "In his early
+childhood, when reason was just beginning to ponder over the meaning of
+things, he was so won to enthusiastic admiration of the heroes and
+heroines of the Catholic Church that he decided he would probe for
+himself the Catholic claims, and the child would say to the father,
+'Father, if there be such a sacrament as Penance, can I go?' And the
+good Archbishop, being evasive in his answers, the young boy found
+himself emerging more and more in a woeful Nemesis of faith." It would
+be literally _impossible_, I think, to construct a story less
+characteristic both of Hugh's own attitude of mind as well as of the
+atmosphere of our family and household life than this!
+
+He was always very sensitive to pain and discomfort. On one occasion,
+when his hair was going to be cut, he said to my mother: "Mayn't I have
+chloroform for it?"
+
+And my mother has described to me a journey which she once took with him
+abroad when he was a small boy. He was very ill on the crossing, and
+they had only just time to catch the train. She had some luncheon with
+her, but he said that the very mention of food made him sick. She
+suggested that she should sit at the far end of the carriage and eat her
+own lunch, while he shut his eyes; but he said that the mere sound of
+crumpled paper made him ill, and then that the very idea that there was
+food in the carriage upset him; so that my mother had to get out on the
+first stop and bolt her food on the platform.
+
+One feat of Hugh's I well remember. Sir James McGarel Hogg, afterwards
+Lord Magheramorne, was at the time member for Truro. He was a stately
+and kindly old gentleman, pale-faced and white-bearded, with formal and
+dignified manners. He was lunching with us one day, and gave his arm to
+my mother to conduct her to the dining-room. Hugh, for some reason best
+known to himself, selected that day to secrete himself in the
+dining-room beforehand, and burst out upon Sir James with a wild howl,
+intended to create consternation. Neither then nor ever was he
+embarrassed by inconvenient shyness.
+
+The Bishop's house at Truro, Lis Escop, had been the rectory of the rich
+living of Kenwyn; it was bought for the see and added to. It was a
+charming house about a mile out of Truro above a sequestered valley,
+with a far-off view of the little town lying among hills, with the smoke
+going up, and the gleaming waters of the estuary enfolded in the uplands
+beyond. The house had some acres of pasture-land about it and some fine
+trees; with a big garden and shrubberies, an orchard and a wood. We were
+all very happy there, save for the shadow of my eldest brother's death
+as a Winchester boy in 1878. I was an Eton boy myself and thus was only
+there in the holidays; we lived a very quiet life, with few visitors;
+and my recollection of the time there is one of endless games and
+schemes and amusements. We had writing games and drawing games, and
+acted little plays.
+
+We children had a mysterious secret society, with titles and offices and
+ceremonies: an old alcoved arbour in the garden, with a seat running
+round it, and rough panelling behind, was the chapter-house of the
+order. There were robes and initiations and a book of proceedings. Hugh
+held the undistinguished office of Servitor, and his duties were mainly
+those of a kind of acolyte. I think he somewhat enjoyed the meetings,
+though the difficulty was always to discover any purpose for which the
+society existed. There were subscriptions and salaries; and to his
+latest day it delighted him to talk of the society, and to point out
+that his salary had never equalled his subscription.
+
+There were three or four young clergy, Arthur Mason, now Canon of
+Canterbury, G. H. Whitaker, since Canon of Hereford, John Reeve, late
+Rector of Lambeth, G. H. S. Walpole, now Bishop of Edinburgh, who had
+come down with my father, and they were much in the house. My father
+Himself was full of energy and hopefulness, and loved Cornwall with an
+almost romantic love. But in all of this Hugh was too young to take much
+part. Apart from school hours he was a quick, bright, clever child,
+wanting to take his part in everything. My brother Fred and I were away
+at school, or later at the University; and the home circle, except for
+the holidays, consisted of my father and mother, my two sisters, and
+Hugh. My father had been really prostrated with grief at the death of my
+eldest brother, who was a boy of quite extraordinary promise and
+maturity of mind. My father was of a deeply affectionate and at the same
+time anxious disposition; he loved family life, but he had an almost
+tremulous sense of his parental responsibility. I have never known
+anyone in my life whose personality was so strongly marked as my
+father's. He had a superhuman activity, and cared about everything to
+which he put his hand with an intensity and an enthusiasm that was
+almost overwhelming. At the same time he was extremely sensitive; and
+this affected him in a curious way. A careless word from one of us, some
+tiny instance of childish selfishness or lack of affection, might
+distress him out of all proportion. He would brood over such things,
+make himself unhappy, and at the same time feel it his duty to correct
+what he felt to be a dangerous tendency. He could not think lightly of
+a trifle or deal with it lightly; and he would appeal, I now think, to
+motives more exalted than the occasion justified. A little heedless
+utterance would be met by him not by a half-humourous word, but by a
+grave and solemn remonstrance. We feared his displeasure very much, but
+we could never be quite sure what would provoke it. If he was in a
+cheerful mood, he might pass over with a laugh or an ironical word what
+in a sad or anxious mood would evoke an indignant and weighty censure. I
+was much with him at this time, and was growing to understand him
+better; but even so, I could hardly say that I was at ease in his
+presence. I did not talk of the things that were in my mind, but of the
+things which I thought would please him; and when he was pleased, his
+delight was evident and richly rewarding.
+
+But in these days he began to have a peculiar and touching affection for
+Hugh, and hoped that he would prove the beloved companion of his age.
+Hugh used to trot about with him, spudding up weeds from the lawn. He
+used, when at home, to take Hugh's Latin lessons, and threw himself into
+the congenial task of teaching with all his force and interest. Yet I
+have often heard Hugh say that these lessons were seldom free from a
+sense of strain. He never knew what he might not be expected to know or
+to respond to with eager interest. My father had a habit, in teaching,
+of over-emphasising minute details and nuances of words, insisting upon
+derivations and tenses, packing into language a mass of suggestions and
+associations which could never have entered into the mind of the writer.
+Language ought to be treated sympathetically, as the not over-precise
+expression of human emotion and wonder; but my father made it of a
+half-scientific, half-fanciful analysis. This might prove suggestive and
+enriching to more mature minds. But Hugh once said to me that he used to
+feel day after day like a small china mug being filled out of a
+waterfall. Moreover Hugh's mind was lively and imaginative, but fitful
+and impatient; and the process both daunted and wearied him.
+
+I have lately been looking through a number of letters from my father to
+Hugh in his schooldays. Reading between the lines, and knowing the
+passionate affection in the background, these are beautiful and pathetic
+documents. But they are over-full of advice, suggestion, criticism,
+anxious inquiries about work and religion, thought and character. This
+was all a part of the strain and tension at which my father lived. He
+was so absorbed in his work, found life such a tremendous business, was
+so deeply in earnest, that he could not relax, could not often enjoy a
+perfectly idle, leisurely, amused mood. Hugh himself was the exact
+opposite. He could work, in later days, with fierce concentration and
+immense energy; but he also could enjoy, almost more than anyone I have
+ever seen, rambling, inconsequent, easy talk, consisting of stories,
+arguments, and ideas just as they came into his head; this had no
+counterpart in my father, who was always purposeful.
+
+But it was a happy time at Truro for Hugh. Speaking generally, I should
+call him in those days a quick, inventive, active-minded child, entirely
+unsentimental; he was fond of trying his hand at various things, but he
+was impatient and volatile, would never take trouble, and as a
+consequence never did anything well. One would never have supposed, in
+those early days, that he was going to be so hard a worker, and still
+less such a worker as he afterwards became, who perfected his gifts by
+such continuous, prolonged, and constantly renewed labour. I recollect
+his giving a little conjuring entertainment as a boy, but he had
+practised none of his tricks, and the result was a fiasco, which had to
+be covered up by lavish and undeserved applause; a little later, too, at
+Addington, he gave an exhibition of marionettes, which illustrated
+historical scenes. The puppets were dressed by Beth, our old nurse, and
+my sisters, and Hugh was the showman behind the scenes. The little
+curtains were drawn up for a tableau which was supposed to represent an
+episode in the life of Thomas � Becket. Hugh's voice enunciated, "Scene,
+an a-arid waste!" Then came a silence, and then Hugh was heard to say to
+his assistant in a loud, agitated whisper, "Where is the Archbishop?"
+But the puppet had been mislaid, and he had to go on to the next
+tableau. The most remarkable thing about him was a real independence of
+character, with an entire disregard of other people's opinion. What he
+liked, what he felt, what he decided, was the important thing to him,
+and so long as he could get his way, I do not think that he troubled his
+head about what other people might think or wish; he did not want to
+earn good opinions, nor did he care for disapproval or approval; people
+in fact were to him at that time more or less favourable channels for
+him to follow his own designs, more or less stubborn obstacles to his
+attaining his wishes. He was not at all a sensitive or shrinking child.
+He was quite capable of holding his own, full of spirit and fearless,
+though quiet enough, and not in the least interfering, except when his
+rights were menaced.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+
+He went to school at Clevedon, in Somersetshire, in 1882, at Walton
+House, then presided over by Mr. Cornish. It was a well-managed place,
+and the teaching was good. I suppose that all boys of an independent
+mind dislike the first breaking-in to the ways of the world, and the
+exchanging of the freedom of home for the barrack-life of school, the
+absence of privacy, and the sense of being continually under the
+magnifying-glass which school gives. It was dreadful to Hugh to have to
+account for himself at all times, to justify his ways and tastes, his
+fancies and even his appearance, to boys and masters alike. Bullying is
+indeed practically extinct in well-managed schools; but small boys are
+inquisitive, observant, extremely conventional, almost like savages in
+their inventiveness of prohibitions and taboos, and perfectly merciless
+in criticism. The instinct for power is shown by small boys in the
+desire to make themselves felt, which is most easily accomplished by
+minute ridicule. Hugh made friends there, but he never really enjoyed
+the life of the place. The boys who get on well at school from the first
+are robust, normal boys, without any inconvenient originality, who enjoy
+games and the good-natured rough and tumble of school life. But Hugh was
+not a boy of that kind; he was small, not good at games, and had plenty
+of private fancies and ideas of his own. He was ill at ease, and he
+never liked the town of straggling modern houses on the low sea-front,
+with the hills and ports of Wales rising shadowy across the mud-stained
+tide.
+
+He was quick and clever, and had been well taught; so that in 1885 he
+won a scholarship at Eton, and entered college there, to my great
+delight, in the September of that year. I had just returned to Eton as a
+master, and was living with Edward Lyttelton in a quaint, white-gabled
+house called Baldwin's Shore, which commanded a view of Windsor Castle,
+and overlooked the little, brick-parapeted, shallow pond known as
+Barnes' Pool, which, with the sluggish stream that feeds it, separates
+the college from the town, and is crossed by the main London road. It
+was a quaint little house, which had long ago been a boarding-house, and
+contained many low-coiled, odd-shaped rooms. Hugh was Edward Lyttelton's
+private pupil, so that he was often in and out of the place. But I did
+not see very much of him. He was a small, ingenuous-looking creature in
+those days, light-haired and blue-eyed; and when a little later he
+became a steerer of one of the boats, he looked very attractive in his
+Fourth of June dress, as a middy, with a dirk and white duck trousers,
+dangling an enormous bouquet from his neck. At Eton he did very little
+in the way of work, and his intellect must have been much in abeyance;
+because so poor was his performance, that it became a matter of
+surprise among his companions that he had ever won a scholarship at all.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Elliott & Fry_
+
+THE THREE BROTHERS, 1882
+
+E. F. Benson       A. C. Benson     R. H. Benson
+at Marlborough.    at Cambridge.    at Mr. Cornish's School at Clevedon.
+Aged 15.           Aged 21.         Aged 11.]
+
+I have said that I did not know very much about Hugh at Eton; this was
+the result of the fact that several of the boys of his set were my
+private pupils. It was absolutely necessary that a master in that
+position should avoid any possibility of collusion with a younger
+brother, whose friends were that master's pupils. If it had been
+supposed that I questioned Hugh about my pupils and their private lives,
+or if he had been thought likely to tell me tales, we should both of us
+have been branded. But as he had no wish to confide, and indeed little
+enough to consult anyone about, and as I had no wish for sidelights, we
+did not talk about his school life at all. The set of boys in which he
+lived was a curious one; they were fairly clever, but they must have
+been, I gathered afterwards, quite extraordinarily critical and
+quarrelsome. There was one boy in particular, a caustic, spiteful, and
+extremely mischief-making creature, who turned the set into a series of
+cliques and parties. Hugh used to say afterwards that he had never known
+anyone in his life with such an eye for other people's weaknesses, or
+with such a talent for putting them in the most disagreeable light. Hugh
+once nearly got into serious trouble; a small boy in the set was
+remorselessly and disgracefully bullied; it came out, and Hugh was
+involved--I remember that Dr. Warre spoke to me about it with much
+concern--but a searching investigation revealed that Hugh had really had
+nothing to do with it, and the victim of the bullying spoke insistently
+in Hugh's favour.
+
+Hugh describes how the facts became known in the holidays, and how my
+father in his extreme indignation at what he supposed to be proved, so
+paralysed Hugh that he had no opportunity of clearing himself. But
+anyone who had ever known Hugh would have felt that it was the last
+thing he would have done. He was tenacious enough of his own rights, and
+argumentative enough; but he never had the faintest touch of the
+savagery that amuses itself at the sight of another's sufferings. "I
+hate cruelty more than anything in the whole world," he wrote later;
+"the existence of it is the only thing which reconciles my conscience to
+the necessity of Hell."
+
+Hugh speaks in his book, _The Confession of a Convert_, about the
+extremely negative character of his religious impressions at school. I
+think it is wholly accurate. Living as we did in an ecclesiastical
+household, and with a father who took singular delight in ceremonial and
+liturgical devotion, I think that religion did impress itself rather too
+much as a matter of solemn and dignified occupation than as a matter of
+feeling and conduct. It was not that my father ever forgot the latter;
+indeed, behind his love for symbolical worship lay a passionate and
+almost Puritan evangelicalism. But he did not speak easily and openly of
+spiritual experience. I was myself profoundly attracted as a boy by the
+�sthetic side of religion, and loved its solemnities with all my heart;
+but it was not till I made friends with Bishop Wilkinson at the age of
+seventeen that I had any idea of spiritual religion and the practice of
+friendship with God. Certainly Hugh missed it, in spite of very loving
+and earnest talks and deeply touching letters from my father on the
+subject. I suppose that there must come for most people a spiritual
+awakening; and until that happens, all talk of emotional religion and
+the love of God is a thing submissively accepted, and simply not
+understood or realised as an actual thing.
+
+Hugh was not at Eton very long--not more than three or four years. He
+never became in any way a typical Etonian. If I am asked to say what
+that is, I should say that it is the imbibing instinctively of what is
+eminently a fine, manly, and graceful convention. Its good side is a
+certain chivalrous code of courage, honour, efficiency, courtesy, and
+duty. Its fault is a sense of perfect rightness and self-sufficiency, an
+overvaluing of sport and games, an undervaluing of intellectual
+interests, enthusiasm, ideas. It is not that the sense of effortless
+superiority is to be emphasized or insisted upon--modesty entirely
+forbids that--but it is the sort of feeling described ironically in the
+book of Job, when the patriarch says to the elders, "No doubt but ye are
+the people, and wisdom shall die with you." It is a tacit belief that
+all has been done for one that the world can do, and that one's standing
+is so assured that it need never be even claimed or paraded.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Hills & Saunders_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1889. AGE 17
+
+As Steerer of the _St. George_, at Eton.]
+
+Still less was Hugh a typical Colleger. College at Eton, where the
+seventy boys who get scholarships are boarded, is a school within a
+school. The Collegers wear gowns and surplices in public, they have
+their own customs and traditions and games. It is a small, close, clever
+society, and produces a tough kind of self-confidence, together with a
+devotion to a particular tradition which is almost like a religious
+initiation. Perhaps if the typical Etonian is conscious of a certain
+absolute rightness in the eyes of the world, the typical Colleger has a
+sense almost of absolute righteousness, which does not need even to be
+endorsed by the world. The danger of both is that the process is
+completed at perhaps too early a date, and that the product is too
+consciously a finished one, needing to be enlarged and modified by
+contact with the world.
+
+But Hugh did not stay at Eton long enough for this process to complete
+itself. He decided that he wished to compete for the Indian Civil
+Service; and as it was clear that he could not do this successfully at
+Eton, my father most reluctantly allowed him to leave.
+
+I find among the little scraps which survive from his schoolboy days,
+the following note. It was written on his last night at Eton. He says:
+"_I write this on Thursday evening after ten. Peel keeping passage._"
+"Peel" is Sidney Peel, the Speaker's son. The passages are patrolled by
+the Sixth Form from ten to half-past, to see that no boy leaves his room
+without permission. Then follows:
+
+    _My feelings on leaving are--
+        Excitement.
+        Foreboding of Wren's and fellows there.
+        Sorrow at leaving Eton.
+        Pride as being an old Etonian.
+        Certain pleasure in leaving for many trivial matters.
+        Feeling of importance.
+        Frightful longing for India.
+        Homesickness._
+              _DEAR ME!_
+
+It was characteristic of Hugh that he should wish both to analyse his
+feelings on such an occasion, and to give expression to them.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+AT WREN'S
+
+
+Hugh accordingly went to Mr. Wren's coaching establishment in London,
+living partly at Lambeth, when my family were in town, and partly as a
+boarder with a clergyman. It was a time of hard work; and I really
+retain very few recollections of him at all at this date. I was myself
+very busy at Eton, and spent the holidays to a great extent in
+travelling and paying visits; and I think that Christmas, when we used
+to write, rehearse, and act a family play, was probably the only time at
+which I saw him.
+
+Hugh went abroad for a short time to learn French, with a party of
+Indian Civil Service candidates, and no doubt forgot to write home, for
+I find the following characteristic letter of my father's to him:
+
+                                 Lambeth Palace, S.E., _30th June_ 1889.
+
+      My dearest Hughie,--We have been rather mourning about
+      not hearing one word from you. We _supposed_ all would be right as
+      you were a large party. But _one_ word would be so easy to those
+      who love you so, who have done all they could to enable you to
+      follow your own line, against their own wishes and affection!
+
+      We hope at any rate you are writing to-day. And we have sent off
+      "Pioneers and Founders," which we hope will both give you happy
+      and interesting Sunday reading, and remind you of us.
+
+      Mr. Spiers writes that you are backward in French but getting on
+      rather fast.
+
+      I want you now at the beginning of this cramming year to make two
+      or three Resolutions, besides those which you know and have
+      thought of often and practised:
+
+      1. To determine never to do any secular examination work on
+      Sundays--to keep all reading that day as fitting "The _Lord's_
+      Day" and the "Day of Rest."
+
+      I had a poor friend who would have done very well at Oxford, but
+      he would make no difference between Sunday and other days. He
+      worked on just the same and in the Examination _itself_, just as
+      the goal was reached, he broke down and took no degree. The
+      doctors said it was all owing to the continuous nervous strain. If
+      he had taken the Sundays it would just have saved him.
+
+      Lord Selborne was once telling me of his tremendous work at one
+      time, and he said, "I never could have done it, but that I took my
+      Sundays. I never would work on them."
+
+      2. We have arranged for you to go over to the Holy Communion one
+      day at Dinan. Perhaps some nice fellow will go with you--Mr.
+      Spiers will anyhow. Tell us _which_ Sunday, so that we may all be
+      with you [Greek: en pneumati].
+
+      Last night we dined at the Speaker's to meet, the Prince and
+      Princess of Wales. It was very interesting. The Terrace of the
+      House of Commons was lighted with electric light. A steamer went
+      by and cheered!
+
+      The Shah will fill London with grand spectacles, and I suppose his
+      coming will have much effect on politics--perhaps on _India_ too.
+
+      All are well.--Ever your most loving father,
+
+                                                         Edw. Cantuar.
+
+      I am going to preach at the Abbey to-night.
+
+
+Hugh failed, however, to secure a place in the Indian Civil Service, and
+it was decided that he should go up to Trinity College, Cambridge, and
+read for classical honours.
+
+Up to this date I do not think that anything very conscious or definite
+had been going on in Hugh's mind or heart. He always said himself that
+it astonished him on looking back to think how purely negative and
+undeveloped his early life had been, and how it had been lived on
+entirely superficial lines, without plans or ambitions, simply taking
+things as they came.
+
+I think it was quite true that it was so; his emotions were dormant,
+his powers were dormant. I do not think he had either great affections
+or great friendships. He liked companionship and amusement, he avoided
+what bored him; he had no inclinations to evil, but neither had he any
+marked inclinations to what was good. Neither had any of his many and
+varied gifts and accomplishments showed themselves. I used to think
+latterly that he was one of the most gifted people I had ever seen in
+all artistic ways. Whatever he took up he seemed able to do, without any
+apprenticeship or drudgery. Music, painting, drawing, carving,
+designing--he took them all up in turn; and I used to feel that if he
+had devoted himself to any one of them he could have reached a high
+excellence. Even his literary gifts, so various and admirable, showed
+but few signs of their presence in the early days; he was not in the
+least precocious. I think that on the whole it was beneficial to him
+that his energies all lay fallow. My father, stern as his conception of
+duty was, had a horror of applying any intellectual pressure to us. I
+myself must confess that I was distinctly idle and dilettante both as a
+boy at Eton and as a Cambridge undergraduate. But much as my father
+appreciated and applauded any little successes, I was often surprised
+that I was never taken to task for my poor performances in work and
+scholarship. The truth was that my eldest brother's death at Winchester
+was supposed partly to have been due to his extraordinary intellectual
+and mental development, and I am sure that my father was afraid of
+over-stimulating our mental energies. I feel certain that what was going
+on in Hugh's case all the time was a keen exercise of observation. I
+have no doubt that his brain was receiving and gaining impressions of
+every kind, and that his mind was not really inactive--it was only
+unconsciously amassing material. He had a very quick and delighted
+perception of human temperament, of the looks, gestures, words,
+mannerisms, habits, and oddities of human beings. If Hugh had been born
+in a household professionally artistic, and had been trained in art of
+any kind, I think he would very likely have become an accomplished
+artist or musician, and probably have shown great precocity. But he was
+never an artist in the sense that art was a torment to him, or that he
+made any sacrifice of other aims to it. It was always just a part of
+existence to him, and of the nature of an amusement, though in so far as
+it represented the need of self-expression in forms of beauty, it
+underlay and permeated the whole of his life.
+
+The first sign of his artistic enthusiasm awakening was during his time
+in London, when he conceived an intense admiration for the music and
+ceremony of St. Paul's. Sir George Martin, on whom my father had
+conferred a musical degree, was very kind to him, and allowed Hugh to
+frequent the organ-loft. "To me," Hugh once wrote, "music is the great
+reservoir of emotion from which flow out streams of salvation." But this
+was not only a musical devotion. I believe that he now conceived, or
+rather perhaps developed, a sense of the symbolical poetry of religious
+rites and ceremonies which remained with him to the end. It is true to
+say that the force and quality of ritual, as a province of art, has been
+greatly neglected and overlooked. It is not for a moment to be regarded
+as a purely artistic thing; but it most undoubtedly has an attraction
+and a fascination as clear and as sharply defined as the attraction of
+music, poetry, painting or drama. All art is an attempt to express a
+sense of the overwhelming power of beauty. It is hard to say what beauty
+is, but it seems to be one of the inherent qualities of the Unknown, an
+essential part of the Divine mind. In England we are so stupid and so
+concrete that we are apt to think of a musician as one who arranges
+chords, and of a painter as one who copies natural effects. It is not
+really that at all. The artist is in reality struggling with an idea,
+which idea is a consciousness of an amazing and adorable quality in
+things, which affects him passionately and to which he must give
+expression. The form which his expression takes is conditioned by the
+sharpness of his perception in some direction or other. To the musician,
+notes and intervals and vibrations are just the fairy flights and dances
+of forms audible to the ear; to the painter, it is a question of shapes
+and colours perceptible to the eye. The dramatist sees the same beauty
+in the interplay of human emotion; while it may be maintained that
+holiness itself is a passionate perception of moral beauty, and that the
+saint is attracted by purity and compassion, and repelled by sin,
+disorder, and selfishness, in the same way as the artist is attracted
+and repelled by visible charm and ugliness.
+
+Ritual has been as a rule so closely annexed to religion--though all
+spectacular delights and ceremonies have the same quality--that it has
+never been reckoned among artistic predilections. The aim of ritual is,
+I believe, a high poetry of which the essence is symbolism and mystery.
+The movement of forms solemnly vested, and with a background of
+architecture and music, produces an emotion quite distinct from other
+artistic emotions. It is a method, like all other arts, through which a
+human being arrives at a sense of mysterious beauty, and it evokes in
+mystical minds a passion to express themselves in just that way and no
+other, and to celebrate thus their sense of the unknown.
+
+But there has always been a natural terror in the religious mind of
+laying too much stress on this, or of seeming to encourage too much an
+�sthetic emotion. If the first business of religion is to purify life,
+there will always be a suspicion of idolatry about ritual, a fear of
+substituting a vague desire for beauty for a practical devotion to right
+conduct.
+
+Hugh wrote to me some years later what he felt about it all:
+
+      "... Liturgy, to my mind, is nothing more than a very fine and
+      splendid art, conveying things, to people who possess the
+      liturgical faculty, in an extraordinarily dramatic and vivid way.
+      I further believe that this is an art which has been gradually
+      brought nearer and nearer perfection by being tested and developed
+      through nineteen centuries, by every kind of mind and nationality.
+      The way in which it does, indisputably, appeal to such very
+      different kinds of people, and unite them, does, quite apart from
+      other things, give it a place with music and painting.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      "I do frankly acknowledge Liturgy to be no more than an art--and
+      therefore not in the least generally necessary to salvation; and I
+      do not in the least 'condemn' people who do not appreciate it. It
+      is only a way of presenting facts--and, in the case of Holy Week
+      Ceremonies, these facts are such as those of the Passion of
+      Christ, the sins of men, the Resurrection and the Sovereignty of
+      Christ."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have laid stress upon all this, because I believe that from this time
+the poetry and beauty of ritual had a deep and increasing fascination
+for Hugh. But it is a thing about which it is so easy for the enemy to
+blaspheme, to ridicule ceremonial in religion as a mere species of
+entertainment, that religious minds have always been inclined to
+disclaim the strength of its influence. Hugh certainly inherited this
+particular perception from my father. I should doubt if anyone ever knew
+so much about religious ceremonial as he did, or perceived so clearly
+the force of it. "I am almost ashamed to seem to know so much about
+these things," I have often heard him say; and again, "I don't ever seem
+able to forget the smallest detail of ritual." My father had a very
+strong artistic nature--poetry, sculpture, painting, architecture,
+scenery, were all full of fascination to him--for music alone of the
+arts he had but little taste; and I think that it ought to be realised
+that Hugh's nature was an artistic one through and through. He had the
+most lively and passionate sensibility to the appeal of art. He had,
+too, behind the outer sensitiveness, the inner toughness of the artist.
+It is often mistakenly thought that the artist is sensitive through and
+through. In my experience, this is not the case. The artist has to be
+protected against the overwhelming onset of emotions and perceptions by
+a strong interior fortress of emotional calm and serenity. It is certain
+that this was the case with Hugh. He was not in the least sentimental,
+he was not really very emotional. He was essentially solitary within; he
+attracted friendship and love more than he gave them. I do not think
+that he ever suffered very acutely through his personal emotions. His
+energy of output was so tremendous, his power of concentration so great,
+that he found a security here from the more ravaging emotions of the
+heart. Not often did he give his heart away; he admired greatly, he
+sympathised freely; but I never saw him desolated or stricken by any
+bereavement or loss. I used to think sometimes that he never needed
+anyone. I never saw him exhibit the smallest trace of jealousy, nor did
+he ever desire to possess anyone's entire affection. He recognised any
+sign of affection generously and eagerly; but he never claimed to keep
+it exclusively as his own.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CAMBRIDGE
+
+
+Hugh went then to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1890. He often talked
+to me in later days about his time there as an undergraduate. He found a
+number of his Eton contemporaries up there, and he had a very sociable
+time. A friend and contemporary of his at Trinity describes him as
+small, light, and boyish-looking. "He walked fast, and always appeared
+to be busy." He never cared much about athletics, but he was an
+excellent steerer. He steered the third Trinity boat all the time he was
+at Cambridge, and was a member of the Leander club. He was always
+perfectly cool, and not in the smallest degree nervous. He was,
+moreover, an excellent walker and mountain-climber. He once walked up to
+London from Cambridge; I have climbed mountains with him, and he was
+very agile, quick, surefooted, and entirely intrepid. Let me interpolate
+a little anecdote of an accident at Pontresina, which might have been
+serious. Hugh and I, with a practised Alpine climber, Dr. Leith, left
+Pontresina early one morning to climb a rock-peak. We were in a light
+carriage with a guide and porter. The young horse which drew us, as we
+were rattling down the high embanked road leading to Samaden, took a
+sharp turn to the right, where a road branched off. He was sharply
+checked by the guide, with the result that the carriage collided with a
+stone post, and we were all flung out down the embankment, a living
+cataract of men, ice-axes, haversacks, and wraps. The horse fortunately
+stopped. We picked ourselves ruefully up and resumed our places. Not
+until we reached our destination did we become aware that the whole
+incident had passed in silence. Not one word of advice or recrimination
+or even of surprise had passed anyone's lips!
+
+But Hugh's climbing was put a stop to by a sharp attack of heart-failure
+on the Piz Pal�. He was with my brother Fred, and after a long climb
+through heavy snow, he collapsed and was with difficulty carried down.
+He believed himself to be on the point of death, and records in one of
+his books that the prospect aroused no emotion whatever in his mind
+either of fear or excitement, only of deep curiosity.
+
+While he was an undergraduate, he and I had a sudden and overwhelming
+interest in family history and genealogy. We went up to Yorkshire for a
+few days one winter, stayed at Pateley Bridge, Ripon, Bolton Abbey,
+Ripley, and finally York. At Pateley Bridge we found the parish
+registers very ancient and complete, and by the aid of them, together
+with the printed register of Fountains Abbey, we traced a family tree
+back as far as to the fourteenth century, with ever-increasing evidence
+of the poverty and mean condition of our ancestral stock. We visited the
+houses and cradles of the race, and from comfortable granges and
+farmsteads we declined, as the record conducted us back, to hovels and
+huts of quite conspicuous humility and squalor. The thermometer fell
+lower and lower every day, in sympathy with our researches. I remember a
+night when we slept in a neglected assembly-room tacked on to a country
+inn, on hastily improvised and scantily covered beds, when the water
+froze in the ewers; and an attempt to walk over the moors one afternoon
+from Masham into Nidderdale, when the springs by the roadside froze into
+lumpy congealments, like guttering candles, and we were obliged to turn
+back; and how we beguiled a ten-mile walk to Ripon, the last train
+having gone, by telling an enormous improvised story, each taking an
+alternate chapter, and each leaving the knots to be untied by the next
+narrator. Hugh was very lively and ingenious in this, and proved the
+most delightful of companions, though we had to admit as we returned
+together that we had ruined the romance of our family history beyond
+repair.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Elliott & Fry_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1893. AGED 21
+
+As an Undergraduate at Cambridge.]
+
+Hugh did very little work at Cambridge; he had given up classics, and
+was working at theology, with a view to taking Orders. He managed to
+secure a Third in the Tripos; he showed no intellectual promise
+whatever; he was a very lively and amusing companion and a keen debater;
+I think he wrote a little poetry; but he had no very pronounced tastes.
+I remember his pointing out to me the windows of an extremely
+unattractive set of ground-floor rooms in Whewell's Court as those which
+he had occupied till he migrated to the Bishop's Hostel, eventually
+moving to the Great Court. They look down Jesus Lane, and the long,
+sombre wall of Sidney Sussex Garden. A flagged passage runs down to the
+right of them, and the sitting-room is on the street. They were dark,
+stuffy, and extremely noisy. The windows were high up, and splashed with
+mud by the vehicles in the street, while it was necessary to keep them
+shut, because otherwise conversation was wholly inaudible. "What did you
+do there?" I said. "Heaven knows!" he answered. "As far as I can
+remember, I mostly sat up late at night and played cards!" He certainly
+spent a great deal of money. He had a good allowance, but he had so much
+exceeded it at the end of his first year, that a financial crisis
+followed, and my mother paid his debts for him. He had kept no accounts,
+and he had entertained profusely.
+
+The following letter from my father to him refers to one of Hugh's
+attempts to economise. He caught a bad feverish cold at Cambridge as a
+result of sleeping in a damp room, and was carried off to be nursed by
+my uncle, Henry Sidgwick:
+
+                                              Addington Park, Croydon,
+
+                                                _26th Jan._ 1891.
+
+      Dearest Hughie,--I was rather disturbed to hear that you
+      imagined that what I said in October about not _needlessly
+      indulging_ was held by you to forbid your having a fire in your
+      bedroom on the ground floor in the depth of such a winter as we
+      have had!
+
+      You ought to have a fire lighted at such a season at 8 o'clock so
+      as to warm and dry the room, and all in it, nearly every
+      evening--and whenever the room seems damp, have a fire just
+      lighted to go out when it will. It's not wholesome to sleep in
+      heated rooms, but they must be dry. A _bed_ slept in every night
+      keeps so, if the room is not damp; but the room must not be damp,
+      and when it is unoccupied for two or three days it is sure to get
+      so.
+
+      _Be sure_ that there is a good fire in it all day, and all your
+      bed things, _mattress and all_, kept well before it for at _least_
+      a _whole day before you go back from Uncle Henry's_.
+
+      How was it your bed-maker had not your room well warmed and dried,
+      mattress dry, etc., before you went up this time? She ought to
+      have had, and should be spoken to about it--_i.e._ unless you told
+      her not to! in which case it would be very like having no
+      breakfast!
+
+      It has been a horrid interruption in the beginning of term--and
+      you'll have difficulty with the loss of time. Besides which I
+      have no doubt you have been very uncomfortable.
+
+      But I don't understand why you should have "nothing to write
+      about" because you have been in bed. Surely you must have
+      accumulated all sorts of reflective and imaginative stories there.
+
+      It is most kind of Aunt Nora and Uncle Henry--give my love and
+      thanks to both.
+
+      I grieve to say that many many more fish are found dead since the
+      thaw melted the banks of swept snow off the sides of the ice. It
+      is most piteous; the poor things seem to have come to the edge
+      where the water is shallowest--there is a shoal where we generally
+      feed the swans.
+
+      I am happy to say the goldfish seem all alive and merry. The
+      continual dropping of fresh water has no doubt saved them--they
+      were never hermetically sealed in like the other poor things.
+
+      Yesterday I was at Ringwould, near Dover. The farmers had been up
+      all night saving their cattle in the stalls from the sudden
+      floods.
+
+      Here we have not had any, though the earth is washed very much
+      from the hills in streaks.
+
+      We are--at least I am--dreadfully sorry to go to London--though
+      the house is very dull without "the boys."
+
+      All right about the books.--Ever your loving father,
+
+                                                         Edw. Cantuar.
+
+Hugh was much taken up with experiments in hypnotism as an
+undergraduate, and found that he had a real power of inducing hypnotic
+sleep, and even of curing small ailments. He told my mother all about
+his experiments, and she wrote to him at once that he must either leave
+this off while he was at Cambridge, or that my father must be told. Hugh
+at once gave up his experiments, and escaped an unpleasant contretemps,
+as the authorities discovered what was going on, and actually, I
+believe, sent some of the offenders down.
+
+Hugh says that he drifted into the idea of taking Orders as the line of
+least resistance, though when he began the study of theology he said
+that he had found the one subject he really cared for. But he had
+derived a very strong half-religious, half-artistic impression from
+reading John Inglesant just before he came up to Cambridge. He could
+long after repeat many passages by heart, and he says that a
+half-mystical, half-emotional devotion to the Person of Our Lord, which
+he derived from the book, seemed to him to focus and concentrate all his
+vague religious emotions. He attended the services at King's Chapel
+regularly, but he says that he had no real religious life, and only
+looked forward to being a country clergyman with a beautiful garden, an
+exquisite choir, and a sober bachelor existence.
+
+It was on an evening walk at Addington with my mother that he told her
+of his intention to take Orders. They had gone together to evensong at a
+neighbouring church, Shirley, and as they came back in the dusk through
+the silent woods of the park, he said he believed he had received the
+call, and had answered, "Here am I, send me!" My mother had the words
+engraved on the inside of a ring, which Hugh wore for many years.
+
+By far the closest and dearest of all the ties which bound Hugh to
+another was his love for my mother. Though she still lives to bless us,
+I may say this, that never did a mother give to her children a larger
+and a wiser love than she gave to us; she was our playmate and
+companion, but we always gave her a perfectly trustful and unquestioning
+obedience. Yet it was always a reasonable and critical obedience. She
+never exacted silent submission, but gave us her reasons readily. She
+never curtailed our independence, or oppressed us with a sense of
+over-anxiety. She never demanded confidence, but welcomed it with
+perfect, understanding.
+
+The result of this with Hugh was that he came to consult her about
+everything, about his plans, his schemes, his books, his beliefs. He
+read all his writings aloud to her, and deferred much to her frankly
+critical mind and her deeply human insight. At the time when he was
+tending towards Rome, she accompanied him every step of the way, though
+never disguising from him her own differences of opinion and belief. It
+was due to her that he suspended his decision, read books, consulted
+friends, gave the old tradition full weight; he never had the misery of
+feeling that she was overcome by a helpless distress, because she never
+attempted to influence any one of us away from any course we thought it
+right to pursue. She did not conceal her opinion, but wished Hugh to
+make up his own mind, believing that everyone must do that, and that the
+only chance of happiness lies there.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by H. Walter Barnett, 12 Knightsbridge, S.W._
+
+MRS. BENSON
+
+MAY, 1910]
+
+There was no one in the world whom he so regarded and admired and loved;
+but yet it was not merely a tender and deferential sentiment. He laid
+his mind open before her, and it was safe to do that, because my mother
+never had any wish to prevail by sentiment or by claiming loyalty. He
+knew that she would be perfectly candid too, with love waiting behind
+all conflict of opinion. And thus their relation was the most perfect
+that could be imagined, because he knew that he could speak and act with
+entire freedom, while he recognised the breadth and strength of her
+mind, and the insight of her love. No one can really understand Hugh's
+life without a knowledge of what my mother was to him--an equal friend,
+a trusted adviser, a candid critic, and a tender mother as well. And
+even when he went his own way, as he did about health and work, though
+she foresaw only too clearly what the end might be, and indeed what it
+actually was, she always recognised that he had a right to live as he
+chose and to work as he desired. She was not in the least blind to his
+lesser faults of temperament, nor did she ever construct an artificial
+image of him. My family has, I have no doubt, an unusual freedom of
+mutual criticism. I do not think we have ever felt it to be disloyal to
+see each other in a clear light. But I am inclined to believe that the
+affection which subsists without the necessity of cherishing illusions,
+has a solidity about it which more purely sentimental loyalties do not
+always possess. And I have known few relations so perfect as those
+between Hugh and my mother, because they were absolutely tender and
+chivalrous, and at the same time wholly candid, natural, and open-eyed.
+
+It was at this time that my eldest sister died quite suddenly of
+diphtheria. I have told something of her life elsewhere. She had
+considerable artistic gifts, in music, painting, and writing. She had
+written a novel, and left unpublished a beautiful little book of her own
+experiences among the poor, called _Streets and Lanes of the City_. It
+was privately printed, and is full of charming humour and delicate
+observation, together with a real insight into vital needs. I always
+believe that my sister would have done a great work if she had lived.
+She had strong practical powers and a very large heart. She had been
+drawn more and more into social work at Lambeth, and I think would have
+eventually given herself up to such work. She had a wonderful power of
+establishing a special personal relation with those whom she loved, and
+I remember realising after her death that each of her family felt that
+they were in a peculiar and individual relation to her of intimacy and
+confidence. She had sent Hugh from her deathbed a special message of
+love and hope; and this had affected him very much.
+
+We were not allowed to go back at once to our work, Fred, Hugh, and
+myself, because of the possibility of infection; and we went off to
+Seaford together for a few days, where we read, walked, wrote letters,
+and talked. It was a strange time; but Hugh, I recollect, got suddenly
+weary of it, and with the same decision which always characterised him,
+said that he must go to London in order to be near St. Paul's. He went
+off at once and stayed with Arthur Mason. I was struck with this at the
+time; he did not think it necessary to offer any explanations or
+reasons. He simply said he could not stand it, quite frankly and
+ingenuously, and promptly disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+LLANDAFF
+
+
+In 1892 Hugh went to read for Orders, with Dean Vaughan, who held the
+Deanery of Llandaff together with the Mastership of the Temple. The Dean
+had been a successful Headmaster of Harrow, and for a time Vicar of
+Doncaster. He was an Evangelical by training and temperament. My father
+had a high admiration for him as a great headmaster, a profound and
+accomplished scholar, and most of all as a man of deep and fervent
+piety. I remember Vaughan's visits to Lambeth. He had the air, I used to
+think, rather of an old-fashioned and highly-bred country clergyman than
+of a headmaster and a Church dignitary. With his rather long hair,
+brushed back, his large, pale face, with its meek and smiling air, and
+his thin, clear, and deliberate voice, he gave the impression of a
+much-disciplined, self-restrained, and chastened man. He had none of the
+brisk effectiveness or mundane radiance of a successful man of affairs.
+But this was a superficial view, because, if he became moved or
+interested, he revealed a critical incisiveness of speech and judgment,
+as well as a profound and delicate humour.
+
+He had collected about himself an informal band of young men who read
+theology under his direction. He used to give a daily lecture, but there
+was no college or regular discipline. The men lived in lodgings,
+attended the cathedral service, arranged their own amusements and
+occupations. But Vaughan had a stimulating and magnetic effect over his
+pupils, many of whom have risen to high eminence in the Church.
+
+They were constantly invited to meals at the deanery, where Mrs.
+Vaughan, a sister of Dean Stanley, and as brilliant, vivacious, and
+witty a talker as her brother, kept the circle entranced and delighted
+by her suggestive and humorous talk. My brother tells the story of how,
+in one of the Dean's long and serious illnesses, from which he
+eventually recovered, Mrs. Vaughan absented herself one day on a
+mysterious errand, and the Dean subsequently discovered, with intense
+amusement and pleasure, that she had gone to inspect a house in which
+she intended to spend her widowhood. The Dean told the whole story in
+her presence to some of the young men who were dining there, and
+sympathised with her on the suspension of her plans. I remember, too,
+that my brother described to me how, in the course of the same illness,
+Mrs. Vaughan, who was greatly interested in some question of the Higher
+Criticism, had gone to the Dean's room to read to him, and had suggested
+that they should consider and discuss some disputed passage of the Old
+Testament. The Dean gently but firmly declined. Mrs. Vaughan coming
+downstairs, Bible in hand, found a caller in the drawing-room who
+inquired after the Dean. "I have just come from him," said Mrs.
+Vaughan, "and it is naturally a melancholy thought, but he seems to have
+entirely lost his faith. He would not let me read the Bible with him; he
+practically said that he had no further interest in the Bible!"
+
+Hugh was very happy at Llandaff. He says that he began to read John
+Inglesant again, and explored the surrounding country to see if he could
+find a suitable place to set up a small community house, on the lines of
+Nicholas Ferrar's Little Gidding. This idea was thenceforth much in his
+mind. At this time his day-dream was that it should be not an ascetic
+order, but rather devotional and mystical. It was, I expect, mainly an
+�sthetic idea at present. The setting, the ceremonial, the order of the
+whole was prominent, with the contemplation of spiritual beauty as the
+central principle. The various strains which went to suggest such a
+scheme are easy to unravel. Hugh says frankly that marriage and
+domesticity always appeared to him inconceivable, but at the same time
+he was sociable, and had the strong creative desire to forth and express
+a definite conception of life. He had always the artistic impulse to
+translate an idea into visible and tangible shape. He had, I think,
+little real pastoral impulse at this, if indeed at any time, and his
+view was individualistic. The community, in his mind, was to exist not,
+I believe, for discipline or extension of thought, or even for
+solidarity of action; it was rather to be a fortress of quiet for the
+encouragement of similar individual impulses. He used to talk a good
+deal about his plans for the community in these days--and it is
+interesting to compare with this the fact that I had already written a
+book, never published, about a literary community on the same sort of
+lines, while to go a little further back, it may be remembered that at
+one time my father and Westcott used to entertain themselves with
+schemes for what they called a _Coenobium_, which was to be an
+institution in which married priests with their families were to lead a
+common life with common devotions.
+
+But I used to be reminded, in hearing Hugh detail his plans, of the case
+of a friend of ours, whom I will call Lestrange, who had at one time
+entered a Benedictine monastery as a novice. Lestrange used to talk
+about himself in an engaging way in the third person, and I remember him
+saying that the reason why he left the monastery was "because Lestrange
+found that he could only be an inmate of a monastery in which Lestrange
+was also Abbot!" I did not feel that in Hugh's community there would be
+much chance of the independent expression of the individualities of his
+associates!
+
+He was ordained deacon in 1894 at Addington, or rather in Croydon parish
+church, by my father, whose joy in admitting his beloved son to the
+Anglican ministry was very great indeed.
+
+Before the ordination Hugh decided to go into solitary retreat. He took
+two rooms in the lodge-cottage of Burton Park, two or three miles out
+of Lincoln. I suppose he selected Lincoln as a scene endeared to him by
+childish memories.
+
+He divided the day up for prayer, meditation, and solitary walks, and
+often went in to service in the cathedral. He says that he was in a
+state of tense excitement, and the solitude and introspection had an
+alarmingly depressing effect upon him. He says that the result of this
+was an appalling mental agony: "It seemed to me after a day or two that
+there was no truth in religion, that Jesus Christ was not God, that the
+whole of life was an empty sham, and that I was, if not the chiefest of
+sinners, at any rate the most monumental of fools." He went to the
+Advent services feeling, he says, like a soul in hell. But matters
+mended after that, and the ordination itself seemed to him a true
+consecration. He read the Gospel, and he remembered gratefully the
+sermon of Canon Mason, my father's beloved friend and chaplain.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE ETON MISSION
+
+
+There were many reasons why Hugh should begin his clerical work at
+Hackney Wick, though I suspect it was mainly my father's choice. It was
+a large, uniformly poor district, which had been adopted by Eton in
+about 1880 as the scene of its Mission. There were certain disadvantages
+attending the choice of that particular district. The real _raison
+d'�tre_ of a School Mission is educative rather than philanthropic, in
+order to bring boys into touch with social problems, and to give them
+some idea that the way of the world is not the way of a prosperous and
+sheltered home. It is open to doubt whether it is possible to touch
+boys' hearts and sympathies much except by linking a School Mission on
+to some institution for the care of boys--an orphan school or a
+training ship. Only the most sensitive are shocked and distressed by the
+sight of hard conditions of life it all, and as a rule boys have an
+extraordinarily unimaginative way of taking things as they see them, and
+not thinking much or anxiously about mending them.
+
+In any case the one aim ought to be to give boys a personal interest in
+such problems, and put them in personal touch with them. But the Eton
+Mission was planted in a district which it was very hard to reach from
+Eton, so that few of the boys were ever able to make a personal
+acquaintance with the hard and bare conditions of life in the crowded
+industrial region which their Mission was doing so much to help and
+uplift, or to realise the urgency of the needs of a district which most
+of them had never visited.
+
+But if the Mission did not touch the imagination of the boys, yet, on
+the other hand, it became a very well-managed parish, with ample
+resources to draw upon; and it certainly attracted the services of a
+number of old Etonians, who had reached a stage of thought at which the
+problem of industrial poverty became an interesting one.
+
+Money was poured out upon the parish; a magnificent church was built, a
+clergy-house was established, curates were subsidised, clubs were
+established, and excellent work was done there. The vicar at this time
+was a friend and contemporary of my own at Eton, St. Clair Donaldson,
+now Archbishop of Brisbane. He had lived with us as my father's chaplain
+for a time, but his mind was set on parish work rather than
+administration. He knew Hugh well, and Hugh was an Etonian himself.
+Moreover, my father was glad that Hugh should be with a trusted friend,
+and so he went there. St. Clair Donaldson was a clergyman of an
+Evangelical type, though the Mission had been previously conducted by a
+very High Churchman, William Carter, the present Archbishop of Capetown.
+But now distinctive High Church practices were given up, and the parish
+was run on moderate, kindly, and sensible lines. Whether such an
+institution is primarily and distinctively religious may be questioned.
+Such work is centred rather upon friendly and helpful relations, and
+religion becomes one of a number of active forces, rather than the force
+upon which all depends. High-minded, duty-loving, transparently good and
+cheerful as the tone of the clergy was, it was, no doubt, tentative
+rather than authoritative.
+
+Hugh's work there lay a good deal in the direction of the boys' clubs;
+he used to go down to the clubs, play and talk with the boys, and go out
+with them on Saturday afternoons to football and cricket. But he never
+found it a congenial occupation, and I cannot help feeling that it was
+rather a case of putting a very delicate and subtle instrument to do a
+rough sort of work. What was needed was a hearty, kindly,
+elder-brotherly relation, and the men who did this best were the
+good-natured and robust men with a generic interest in the young, who
+could set a clean-minded, wholesome, and hearty example. But Hugh was
+not of this type. His mind was full of mystical and poetical ideas of
+religion, and his artistic nature was intent upon expressing them. He
+was successful in a way, because he had by this time a great charm of
+frankness and simplicity; he never had the least temptation to draw
+social distinctions, but he desired to find people personally
+interesting. He used to say afterwards that he did not really believe in
+what involved a sort of social condescension, and, like another incisive
+missioner, he thought that the giving up a few evenings a week by
+wealthy and even fashionable young-men, however good-hearted and
+earnest, to sharing the amusements of the boys of a parish, was only a
+very uncomfortable way of showing the poor how the rich lived! There is
+no sort of doubt about the usefulness and kindliness of such work, and
+it obviously is one of the experiments which may tend to create social
+sympathy: but Hugh came increasingly to believe that the way to lead
+boys to religion was not through social gatherings, but by creating a
+strong central nucleus of Christian instruction and worship; his heart
+was certainly not in his work at this time, though there was much that
+appealed to him particularly to his sense of humour, which was always
+strongly developed.
+
+There was an account he gave of a funeral he had to conduct in the early
+days of his work, where, after a large congregation had assembled in the
+church, the arrival of the coffin itself was delayed, and he was asked
+to keep things going. He gave out hymns, he read collects, he made a
+short address, and still the undertaker at the door shook his head. At
+last he gave out a hymn that was not very well known, and found that the
+organist had left his post, whereupon he sang it alone, as an
+unsustained solo.
+
+He told me, too, that after preaching written sermons, he resolved to
+try an extempore one. He did so with much nervousness and hesitation.
+The same evening St. Clair Donaldson said to him kindly but firmly that
+preachers were of two kinds--the kind that could write a fairly coherent
+discourse and deliver it more or less impressively, and the kind that
+might venture, after careful preparation, to speak extempore; and that
+he felt bound to tell Hugh that he belonged undoubtedly to the first
+kind. This was curious, because Hugh afterwards became, by dint of
+trouble and practice, a quite remarkably distinguished and impressive
+preacher. Indeed, even before he left the Church of England, the late
+Lord Stanmore, who was an old friend of my father's, said to me that he
+had heard all the great Anglican preachers for many years, and that he
+had no hesitation in putting my brother in the very first rank.
+
+However his time was very full; the parish was magnificently organised;
+besides the clubs there were meetings of all sorts, very systematic
+visiting, a ladies' settlement, plays acted by children, in which Hugh
+took a prominent part both in composing the libretto and rehearsing the
+performances, coaching as many as seventy children at a time.
+
+He went to a retreat given by a Cowley Father in the course of his time
+at the Eton Mission, and heard Father Maturin unfold, with profound
+enthusiasm and inspiring eloquence, a scheme of Catholic doctrine,
+worship, and practice, laying especial stress on Confession. These ideas
+began to take shape in Hugh's mind, and he came to the conclusion that
+it was necessary in a place like London, and working among the harassed
+and ill-educated poor, to _materialise_ religion--that is to say, to fit
+some definite form, rite, symbol, and practice to religious emotion. He
+thought that the bright, dignified, and stately adjuncts of worship,
+such as they had at the Eton Mission, were not adequate to awaken the
+sense of the personal and intimate relation between man and God.
+
+In this belief he was very possibly right. Of course the dangers of the
+theory are obvious. There is the ultimate danger of what can fairly be
+called superstition, that is to say giving to religion a magical kind of
+influence over the material side of life. Rites, relics, images tend to
+become, in irrational minds, invested with an inherent and mechanical
+sanctity, instead of being the symbols of grace. But it is necessary to
+risk something; and though the risk of what may be called a sort of
+idolatry is great, the risk of not arousing the sense of personal
+religion at all is greater still.
+
+Hugh's ordination as a priest followed in 1895; and he then made a full
+confession before a clergyman.
+
+In 1896, in October, my father, who had paid a state visit to Ireland,
+on his return went to stay with Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden, and died
+there in church on a Sunday morning.
+
+I can never forget the events of that terrible day. I received a
+telegram at Eton which summoned me to Hawarden, but did not state
+explicitly that my father was dead. I met Hugh at Euston, who told me
+the fact, and I can recollect walking up and down the half-deserted
+station with him, in a state of deep and bewildered grief. The days
+which followed were so crowded with business and arrangements, that even
+the sight of my father's body, lying robed and still, and palely
+smiling, in the great library of the rectory failed to bring home to me
+the sense that his fiery, eager, strenuous life was over. I remember
+that Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone came to the church with us, and that Hugh
+celebrated and gave us the Communion. But the day when we travelled
+south with the coffin, the great pomp at Canterbury, which was attended
+by our present King and the present King of Norway, when we laid him to
+rest in a vault under the north-western tower, and the days of hurried
+and crowded business at Addington are still faint and dream-like to me.
+
+My mother and sister went out to Egypt for the winter; Hugh's health
+broke down; he was threatened with rheumatic fever, and was ordered to
+go out with them. It was here that he formed a very close and intimate
+companionship with my sister Maggie, and came to rely much on her tender
+sympathy and wise advice. He never returned to the Eton Mission.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+KEMSING AND MIRFIELD
+
+
+The change proved very beneficial to Hugh; but it was then, with
+returning health and leisure for reflection, that he began to consider
+the whole question of Anglicanism and Catholicism. He describes some of
+the little experiences which turned his mind in this direction. He
+became aware of the isolation and what he calls the "provincialism" of
+the Anglican Church. He saw many kinds of churches and varieties of
+worship. He went on through the Holy Land, and at Jerusalem celebrated
+the Communion in the Chapel of Abraham; at Damascus he heard with a sort
+of horror of the submission of Father Maturin to Rome. In all this his
+scheme of a religious community revived. The ceremonial was to be
+Caroline. "We were to wear no eucharistic vestments, but full surplices
+and black scarves, and were to do nothing in particular."
+
+When he returned, he went as curate to Kemsing, a village in Kent. It
+was decided that for the sake of his health his work must be light. The
+Rector, Mr. Skarratt, was a wealthy man; he had restored the church
+beautifully, and had organised a very dignified and careful musical
+service. Hugh lived with him at the vicarage, a big, comfortable house,
+with a succession of interesting guests. He had a very happy year,
+devoting much attention to preaching, and doing a great deal of work
+among the children, for which he had a quite singular gift. He had a
+simple and direct way with them, equally removed from both petting and
+authoritativeness. His own natural childlikeness came out--and indeed
+all his life he preserved the innocence, the impulsiveness, the mingled
+impatience and docility of a child more than any man I ever saw.
+
+I remember a conversation I had with Hugh about this time. An offer had
+been made to him, through me, of an important country living. He said
+that he was extraordinarily happy at Kemsing but that he was too
+comfortable--he needed more discipline. He said further that he was
+beginning to find that he had the power of preaching, and that it was in
+this direction rather than in the direction of pastoral activity that
+his life was going to lie.
+
+It was rather a pettish conversation. I asked him whether he might not
+perhaps find the discipline he needed in doing the pastoral work which
+did not interest him, rather than in developing his life on lines which
+he preferred. I confess that it was rather a priggish line to take; and
+in any case it did not come well from me because as a schoolmaster I
+think I always pursued an individualistic line, and worked hard on my
+own private basis of preferences rather than on the established system
+of the school. But I did not understand Hugh at this date. It is always
+a strain to find one whom one has always regarded as a boy, almost as a
+child, holding strong and definitely matured views. I thought him
+self-absorbed and wilful--as indeed he was--but he was pursuing a true
+instinct and finding his real life.
+
+He then received an invitation to become a mission preacher, and went to
+consult Archbishop Temple about it. The Archbishop told him, bluffly and
+decisively, that he was far too young, and that before he took it upon
+himself to preach to men and women he ought to have more experience of
+their ways and hearts.
+
+But Hugh with his usual independence was not in the least daunted. He
+had an interview with Dr. Gore, now Bishop of Oxford, who was then Head
+of the House of the Resurrection at Mirfield, and was accepted by him as
+a probationer in the Community. Hugh went to ask leave of Archbishop
+Maclagan, and having failed with one Primate succeeded with another.
+
+The Community of the Resurrection was established by Bishop Gore as an
+Anglican house more or less on Benedictine lines. It acquired a big
+house among gardens, built, I believe, by a wealthy manufacturer. It
+has since been altered and enlarged, but Hugh drew an amusing set of
+sketches to illustrate the life there, in which it appears a rueful and
+rather tawdry building, of yellow stone and blue slate, of a shallow and
+falsetto Gothic, or with what maybe called Gothic sympathies. It is at
+Mirfield, near Bradford, in the Calder valley; the country round full of
+high chimneys, and the sky much blurred with smoke, but the grounds and
+gardens were large, and suited to a spacious sort of retirement. From
+the same pictures I gather that the house was very bare within and
+decidedly unpleasing, with no atmosphere except that of a denuded
+Victorian domesticity.
+
+Some of the Brothers were occupied in definitely erudite work, editing
+liturgical, expository, and devotional works; and for these there was a
+large and learned library. The rest were engaged in evangelistic mission
+work with long spaces of study and devotion, six months roughly being
+assigned to outside activities, and six to Community life. The day
+began early, the Hours were duly recited. There was work in the morning
+and after tea, with exercise in the afternoon. On Saturday a chapter was
+held, with public confession, made kneeling, of external breaches of the
+rule. Silence was kept from Compline, at ten o'clock, until the next
+day's midday meal; there was manual work, wood-chopping, coal-breaking,
+boot-cleaning and room-dusting. For a long time Hugh worked at
+step-cutting in the quarry near the house, which was being made into a
+garden. The members wore cassocks with a leather belt. They were called
+"Father" and the head of the house was "Senior" or "Superior."
+
+The vows were simple, of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but were
+renewed annually for a period of thirteen months, accompanied by an
+expression of an intention, only, to remain in the community for life.
+As far as I remember, if a Brother had private means, he was bound to
+hand over his income but not his capital, while he was a member, and the
+copyright of all books written during membership belonged absolutely to
+the Community. Hugh wrote the book of mystical stories, _The Light
+Invisible_, at this time; it had a continuous sale, and he used
+humorously to lament the necessity of handing over the profits to the
+Order, long after he had left it and joined the Church of Rome. The
+Brothers were not allowed, I think, to possess any personal property,
+and received clothing and small luxuries either as gifts, or purchased
+them through orders from the Bursar. Our dear old family nurse, Beth, to
+whom Hugh was as the apple of her eye, used to make him little presents
+of things that he needed--his wardrobe was always scanty and
+threadbare--and would at intervals lament his state of destitution. "I
+can't bear to think of the greedy creatures taking away all the
+gentlemen's things!"
+
+There was a chapel in the house, of a High Anglican kind, where
+vestments and incense were used, and plainsong sung. There were about
+fourteen Brothers.
+
+Hugh was obviously and delightfully happy at Mirfield. I remember well
+how he used to describe the pleasure of returning to it from a Mission,
+the silence, the simplicity of the life, the liberty underlying the
+order and discipline. The tone of the house was admirably friendly and
+kindly, without gossip, bickering or bitterness, and Hugh found himself
+among cheerful and sympathetic companions, with the almost childlike
+mirthfulness which comes of a life, strict, ascetic, united, and free
+from worldly cares. He spent his first two years in study mainly, and
+extended his probation. It illustrates the fact that he was acquainting
+himself strangely little with current theological thought that the cause
+of his delay was that he was entirely taken aback by a sermon of Dr.
+Gore's on the Higher Criticism. The whole idea of it was completely
+novel to Hugh, and upset him terribly, so that he thought he could
+hardly recover his balance. Neither then nor later had he the smallest
+sympathy with or interest in Modernism. Finally he took the vows in
+1901; my mother was present. He was installed, his hand kissed by the
+Brethren, and he received the Communion in entire hopefulness and
+happiness. I was always conscious, in those days, that Hugh radiated an
+atmosphere of intense rapture and ecstasy about him: the only drawback
+was that, in his rare visits to home, he was obviously pining to be back
+at Mirfield.
+
+Then his work began; and he says that refreshed and reinvigorated as
+they were before going on a Mission, by long, quiet, and careful
+preparation, they used to plunge into their work with ardent and eager
+enthusiasm. The actual mission work was hard. Hugh records that once
+after a Mission in London they spent four days in interviewing people
+and hearing confessions for eleven hours a day, with occasional sermons
+interspersed.
+
+At times some of the Brothers went into residence at Westminster, in Dr.
+Gore's house--he was a Canon of the Abbey--and there Hugh preached his
+only sermon in the Abbey. But he was now devoting himself to Mission
+preaching, and perfecting his system. He never thought very highly of
+his gift of exposition. "I have a certain facility in preaching, but not
+much," he once said, adding, "I have far more in writing." And I have
+heard him say often that, if he let himself go in preaching, his
+tendency was to become vulgar. I have in my possession hundreds of his
+skeleton notes. They consist of the main points of his argument, written
+out clearly and underlined, with a certain amount of the texture
+indicated, sentence-summaries, epigrammatic statements, dicta, emphatic
+conclusions. He attained his remarkable facility by persistent,
+continuous, and patient toil; and a glance at his notebooks and
+fly-leaves would be the best of lessons for anyone who was tempted to
+depend upon fluid and easy volubility. He used to say that, after long
+practice, a sermon would fall into shape in a very few moments; and I
+remember his once taking carefully written address of my own,
+summarising and denuding it, and presenting me with a little skeleton of
+its essence, which he implored me to use; though I had not the courage
+to do so. He said, too, that he believed that he could teach anyone of
+ordinary brain-power and choice of language to preach extempore on these
+lines in six months, if only he would rigidly follow his method. His
+arguments, in the course of his sermons, did not always seem to me very
+cogent; but his application of them was always most clear and effective.
+You always knew exactly what he was driving at, and what point he had
+reached; if it was not good logic, it was extremely effective logic, and
+you seemed to run hand in hand with him. I remember a quite admirable
+sermon he preached at Eton at this date--it was most simple and moving.
+But at the same time the effect largely depended upon a grace of which
+he was unconscious--quaint, naive, and beautiful phrasing, a fine
+poetical imagination, tiny word-pictures, and a youthful and impetuous
+charm. His gestures at that time were free and unconstrained, his voice
+resonant, appealing, and clear.
+
+He used to tell innumerable stories of his sermon adventures. There was
+a story of a Harvest Festival sermon near Kemsing, in the days when he
+used a manuscript; he found on arriving at the church that he had left
+it behind him, and was allowed to remain in the vestry during the
+service, writing out notes on the inside of envelopes torn open, with
+the stump of a pencil which would only make marks at a certain angle.
+The service proceeded with a shocking rapidity, and when he got to the
+pulpit, spread out his envelopes, and addressed himself to the
+consideration of the blessings of the Harvest, he found on drawing to an
+end that he had only consumed about four minutes. He went through the
+whole again, slightly varying the phraseology, and yet again repeated
+the performance; only to find, on putting on his coat, that the
+manuscript was in his pocket all the time.
+
+He used to say that the most nervous experience in the world was to go
+into a street or market-place of a town where he was to hold a Mission
+with open-air sermons, and there, without accompaniment, and with such
+scanty adherents as he could muster, strike up a hymn. By-standers would
+shrug their shoulders and go away smiling. Windows would be opened,
+figures would lean out, and presently withdraw again, slamming the
+casement.
+
+Hugh was always extremely nervous before a sermon. He told me that when
+he was about to preach, he did not generally go in for the service, but
+remained in the vestry until the sermon; and that he would lie on a sofa
+or sit in a chair, in agonies of nervousness, with actual attacks of
+nausea, and even sickness at times, until he was summoned, feeling that
+he could not possibly get through. This left him after speaking a few
+words: but he also maintained that on the rare occasions when he felt
+quite confident and free from nervousness, the result was a failure: he
+said that a real anxiety as to the effect of the sermon was a necessary
+stimulus, and evoked a mental power which confidence was apt to leave
+dormant.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE CHANGE
+
+
+Hugh has himself traced in full detail, in his book _The Confessions of
+a Convert_, how he gradually became convinced that it was his duty to
+make his submission to the Church of Rome; and I will not repeat the
+story here. But I can recall very distinctly the period during which he
+was making up his mind. He left Mirfield in the early summer of 1903, so
+that when I came home for the summer holidays, he was living there. I
+had myself just accepted from King Edward the task of editing Queen
+Victoria's letters, and had resigned my Eton mastership. Hugh was then
+engaged in writing his book _By What Authority_ with inconceivable
+energy and the keenest possible enjoyment. His absorption in the work
+was extraordinary. He was reading historical books and any books
+bearing on the history of the period, taking notes, transcribing. I have
+before me a large folio sheet of paper on which he has written very
+minutely hundreds of picturesque words and phrases of the time, to be
+worked into the book. He certainly soaked himself in the atmosphere of
+the time, and I imagine that the details are correct, though as he had
+never studied history scientifically, I expect he is right in saying
+that the mental atmosphere which he represented as existing in
+Elizabethan times was really characteristic of a later date. He said of
+the book: "I fear it is the kind of book which anyone acquainted with
+the history, manners, and customs of the Elizabethan age should find no
+difficulty in writing." He found many faults subsequently with the
+volume, but he convinced himself at the time that the Anglican
+post-Reformation Church had no identity or even continuity with the
+pre-Reformation Church.
+
+He speaks of himself as undergoing an experience of great unhappiness
+and unrest. Undoubtedly leaving the Mirfield Community was a painful
+severance. He valued a friendly and sympathetic atmosphere very much,
+and he was going to migrate from it into an unknown society, leaving his
+friends behind, with a possibility of suspicion, coldness, and
+misunderstanding. It was naturally made worse by the fact that all my
+father's best and oldest friends were Anglicans, who by position and
+tradition would be likely to disapprove most strongly of the step, and
+even feel it, if not an aspersion on my father's memory, at all events a
+disloyal and unfilial act--as indeed proved to be the case. But I doubt
+if these considerations weighed very much with Hugh. He was always
+extremely independent of criticism and disapproval, and though he knew
+many of my father's friends, through their visits to our house, he had
+not made friends with them on his own account--and indeed he had always
+been so intent on the life he was himself leading, that he had never
+been, so to speak, one of the Nethinims of the sanctuary; nor had the
+dependent and discipular attitude, the reverential attachment to
+venerable persons, been in the least congenial to him. He had always
+rather effaced himself in the presence of our ecclesiastical visitors,
+and had avoided the constraint of their dignity. Indeed, up to this time
+he had not much gone in search of personal relationships at all except
+with equals and contemporaries.
+
+But the ignorance of the world he was about to enter upon was a more
+serious factor in his outlook. He knew that he would have to enter
+submissively and humbly an entirely strange domain, that he would have
+to join a chilly and even suspicious circle--for I suppose a convert to
+any new faith is apt to be regarded, until he is fully known, as
+possibly weak, indeterminate, and fluctuating, and to be treated with
+compassion rather than admiration. With every desire to be sympathetic,
+people in conscious possession of security and certainty are naturally
+inclined to regard a claimant as bent on acquisition rather than as a
+hero eager for self-sacrifice.
+
+Certainly Hugh's dejection, which I think was reserved for his tired
+moments, was not apparent. To me, indeed, he appeared in the light of
+one intent on a great adventure, with all the rapture of confidence and
+excitement about him. As my mother said, he went to the shelter of his
+new belief as a lover might run to the arms of his beloved. Like the
+soldier in the old song, he did not linger, but "gave the bridle-reins a
+shake." He was not either melancholy or brooding. He looked very well,
+he was extremely active in mind and in body.
+
+I find the following extract from my diary of August:
+
+"_August_ 1903.--In the afternoon walked with Hugh the Paxhill round.
+Hugh is in very good cheerful spirits, steering in a high wind straight
+to Rome, writing a historical novel, full of life and jests and laughter
+and cheerfulness; not creeping in, under the shadow of a wall, sobbing
+as the old cords break; but excited, eager, jubilant, enjoying."
+
+His room was piled with books and papers; he used to rush into meals
+with the glow of suspended energy, eat rapidly and with appetite--I have
+never seen a human being who ate so fast and with so little preference
+as to the nature of what he ate--then he would sit absorbed for a
+moment, and ask to be excused, using the old childish formula: "May I
+get down?" Sometimes he would come speeding out of his room, to read
+aloud a passage he had written to my mother, or to play a few chords on
+the piano. He would not as a rule join in games or walks--he went out
+for a short, rapid walk by himself, a little measured round, and flew
+back to his work. He generally, I should think, worked about eight hours
+a day at this time. In the evening he would play a game of cards after
+dinner, and would sit talking in the smoking-room, rapidly consuming
+cigarettes and flicking the ash off with his forefinger. He was also, I
+remember, very argumentative. He said once of himself that he was
+perpetually quarrelling with his best friends. He was a most experienced
+coat-trailer! My mother, my sister, my brother, Miss Lucy Tait who lives
+with us, and myself would find ourselves engaged in heated arguments,
+the disputants breathing quickly, muttering unheeded phrases, seeking in
+vain for a loophole or a pause. It generally ended by Hugh saying with
+mournful pathos that he could not understand why everyone set on
+him--that he never argued in any other circle, and he could only entreat
+to be let alone. It is true that we were accustomed to argue questions
+of every kind with tenacity and even with invective. But the fact that
+these particular arguments always dealt with the inconsistencies and
+difficulties of ecclesiastical institutions revealed their origin. The
+fact was that at this time Hugh was accustomed to assert with much
+emphasis some extremely provocative and controversial position. He was
+markedly scornful of Anglican faults and mannerisms, and behaved both
+then and later as if no Anglicans could have any real and vital belief
+in their principles, but must be secretly ashamed of them. Yet he was
+acutely sensitive himself, and resented similar comments; he used to
+remind me of the priest who said to Stevenson "Your sect--for it would
+be doing it too much honour to call it a religion," and was then pained
+to be thought discourteous or inconsiderate.
+
+Discourteous, indeed, Hugh was not. I have known few people who could
+argue so fiercely without personal innuendo. But, on the other hand, he
+was both triumphant and sarcastic. There was an occasion at a later date
+when he advanced some highly contestable points as assumptions, and my
+aunt, Mrs. Henry Sidgwick, in an agony of rationality, said to him, "But
+these things are surely matters of argument, Hugh?" To which Hugh
+replied, "Well, you see, I have the misfortune, as you regard it, of
+belonging to a Church which happens to know."
+
+Here is another extract from my diary at this time:
+
+"_August_ 1903.--At dinner Hugh and I fell into a fierce argument, which
+became painful, mainly, I think, because of Hugh's vehemence and what I
+can only call violence. He reiterates his consciousness of his own
+stupidity in an irritating way. The point was this. He maintained that
+it was uncharitable to say, 'What a bad sermon So-and-so preached,' and
+not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the sickening stuff
+one generally hears'; uncharitable to say, 'What nasty soup this is!'
+and not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the filthy pigwash
+generally called soup.' I maintained that to say that, one must have
+particular soups in one's mind; and that it was abusing more sermons and
+soups, and abusing them more severely, than if one found fault with one
+soup or one sermon.
+
+"But it was all no use. He was very impatient if one joined issue at any
+point, and said that he was interrupted. He dragged all sorts of red
+herrings over the course, the opinions of Roman theologians, and
+differences between mortal and venial sin, &c. I don't think he even
+tried to apprehend my point of view, but went off into a long rigmarole
+about distinguishing between the sin and the sinner; and said that it
+was the sin one ought to blame, not the sinner. I maintained that the
+consent of the sinner's will was of the essence of the sin, and that the
+consent of the will of the sinner to what was not in itself wrong was
+the essence of sin--_e.g._ not sinful to drink a glass of wine, but,
+sinful if you had already had enough.
+
+"It was rather disagreeable; but I get so used to arguing with absolute
+frankness with people at Eton that I forget how unpleasant it may sound
+to hearers--and it all subsided very quickly, like a boiling pot."
+
+I remember, too, at a later date, that he produced some photographs of
+groups of, I think, Indian converts at a Roman Catholic Mission, and
+stated that anyone who had eyes to see could detect which of them had
+been baptized by the expression of their faces. It was, of course, a
+matter which it was impossible to bring to the test; but he would not
+even admit that catechumens who were just about to be baptized could
+share the same expression as those who actually had been baptized. This
+was a good instance of his provocative style. But it was always done
+like a game. He argued deftly, swiftly, and inconclusively, but the
+fault generally lay in his premisses, which were often wild assumptions;
+not in his subsequent argument, which was cogent, logical, and admirably
+quick at finding weak points in his adversary's armour. At the same time
+he was wholly placable. No one could so banish and obliterate from his
+mind the impression of the harshest and fiercest arguments. The
+effervescence of his mind subsided as quickly as it arose. And my whole
+recollection of the period is that he was in a state of great mental and
+spiritual excitement, and that he was experiencing to the full the joys
+of combat and action.
+
+While the interest of composition lasted, he remained at home, but the
+book was soon done. He was still using the oratory in the house for
+celebrations, and I believe that he occasionally helped in the services
+of the parish church. The last time I actually heard him preach was at
+the previous Christmas, when the sermon seemed to me both tired and
+hard, as of one whose emotions were strained by an interior strife.
+
+Among his diversions at this time he painted, on the casement windows of
+the oratory, some figures of saints in water-colour. The designs were
+quaint, but in execution they were the least successful things he ever
+did; while the medium he employed was more apt to exclude light than to
+tinge it.
+
+These strange figures became known in the village as "Mrs. Benson's
+dolls." They were far more visible from outside than from within, and
+they looked like fantastic puppets leaning against the panes. What use
+my mother was supposed to make of them, or why she piled her dolls, tier
+above tier, in an upper window was never explained. Hugh was very
+indignant when their artistic merit was called in question, but later on
+he silently effaced them.
+
+The curious intensity and limitation of Hugh's affections were never
+more exemplified than in his devotion to a charming collie, Roddy,
+belonging to my sister, the most engaging dog I have ever known. Roddy
+was a great truant, and went away sometimes for days and even weeks.
+Game is carefully preserved on the surrounding estates, and we were
+always afraid that Roddy, in his private hunting expeditions, might fall
+a victim to a conscientious keeper's gun, which, alas, was doubtless the
+cause of his final and deeply lamented disappearance. Hugh had a great
+affection for Roddy, and showed it, when he came to Tremans, by keeping
+Roddy constantly at his heels, having him to sleep in his room, and
+never allowing him out of his sight. For the first day or two Roddy
+enjoyed these attentions, but gradually, as the visit lasted, became
+more and more restive, and was for ever trying to give Hugh the slip;
+moreover, as soon as Hugh went away, Roddy always disappeared for a few
+days to recover his sense of independence and liberty. I can see Hugh
+now walking about in his cassock, with Roddy at his heels; then they
+would join a circle on the lawn, and Roddy would attach himself to some
+other member of the family for a little, but was always sternly whistled
+away by Hugh, when he went back to his room. Moreover, instead of going
+back to the stable to sleep snugly in the straw, which Roddy loved best,
+he had to come to the smoking-room, and then go back to sleep in a
+basket chair in Hugh's bedroom. I can remember Hugh departing at the end
+of his visit, and saying to me, "I know it's no use asking you--but do
+try to keep an eye on Roddy! It makes me miserable to think of his
+getting into the woods and being shot." But he did not think much about
+Roddy in his absence, never asked to take Roddy to Hare Street; nor did
+he manifest deep emotion when he finally disappeared, nor make long
+lamentation for him. Hugh never wasted any time in vain regrets or
+unavailing pathos.
+
+He paid visits to certain friends of my mother's to consult about his
+position. He did this solely out of deference to her wishes, but not, I
+think, with any hope that his purpose would be changed. They were, I
+believe, John Reeve, Rector of Lambeth, a very old and dear friend of
+our family, Bishop Wilkinson, and Lord Halifax. The latter stated his
+position clearly, that the Pope was Vicar of Christ _jure ecclesiastico_
+but not _jure divino_, and that it was better to remain an Anglican and
+promote unity so. Hugh had also a painful correspondence with John
+Wordsworth, late Bishop of Salisbury, a very old friend of my father's.
+The Bishop wrote affectionately at first, but eventually became somewhat
+indignant, and told Hugh plainly that a few months' work in a slum
+parish would clear his mind of doubt; the correspondence ended by his
+saying emphatically that he regarded conversion almost as a loss of
+sanity. No doubt it was difficult for one of immense patristic and
+theological learning, who was well versed in the historical aspect of
+the affair as well as profoundly conscious of the reality of his own
+episcopal commission, to enter the lists with a son of his old friend.
+But neither sympathy nor harshness could have affected Hugh at this
+time, any more than advice to return could alter the position of a man
+who had taken a leap and was actually flying through the air.
+
+Hugh then went off on a long bicycle tour by himself, dressed as a
+layman. He visited the Carthusian Monastery of St Hugh, near West
+Grinstead, which I afterwards visited in his company. He spent a night
+or two at Chichester, where he received the Communion in the cathedral;
+but he was in an unhappy frame of mind, probably made more acute by
+solitude.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE DECISION
+
+
+By this time we all knew what was about to happen. "When a man's mind is
+made up," says the old Irish proverb, "his feet must set out on the
+way."
+
+Just before my brother made his profession as a Brother of the Mirfield
+Community, he was asked by Bishop Gore whether he was in any danger of
+becoming a Roman Catholic. My brother said honestly, "Not so far as I
+can see." This was in July 1901. In September 1903 he was received into
+the Church of Rome. What was it which had caused the change? It is very
+difficult to say, and though I have carefully read my brother's book,
+the _Confessions of a Convert_, I find it hard to give a decisive
+answer. I have no intention of taking up a controversial attitude, and
+indeed I am little equipped for doing so. It is clear that my brother
+was, and had for some time been, searching for something, let us call it
+a certainty, which he did not find in the Church of England. The
+surprise to me is that one whose religion, I have always thought, ran
+upon such personal and individualistic lines, should not have found in
+Anglicanism the very liberty he most desired. The distinguishing feature
+of Anglicanism is that it allows the largest amount of personal liberty,
+both as regards opinion and also as regards the use of Catholic
+traditions, which is permitted by an ecclesiastical body in the world.
+The Anglican Church claims and exercises very little authority at all.
+Each individual Bishop has a considerable discretionary power, and some
+allow a far wider liberty of action than others. In all cases,
+divergences of doctrine and practice are dealt with by personal
+influence, tact, and compromise, and _force majeure_ is invoked as
+little as possible. In the last hundred years, during which there have
+been strong and active movements in various directions in the Church of
+England both towards Catholic doctrine and Latitudinarianism, such
+synodical and legal action as has been taken has generally proved to be
+a mistake. It is hard to justify the system logically and theoretically,
+but it may be said that the methods of the Church have at least been
+national, in the sense that they have suited the national temperament,
+which is independent and averse to coercive discipline. It may, I
+believe, be truly asserted that in England any Church which attempted
+any inquisition into the precise doctrine held by its lay members would
+lose adherents in large numbers. Of late the influence of the English
+Church has been mainly exerted in the cause of social reform, and her
+tendency is more and more to condone divergences of doctrine and opinion
+in the case of her ministers when they are accompanied by spiritual
+fervour and practical activity. The result has certainly been to pacify
+the intellectual revolt against religious opinion which was in full
+progress some forty years ago. When I myself was at the university some
+thirty years ago, the attitude of pronounced intellectuals against
+religious opinion was contemptuous and even derisive. That is not the
+case now. The instinct for religion is recognised as a vital part of the
+human mind, and though intellectual young men are apt at times to tilt
+against the travesty of orthodoxy which they propound for their own
+satisfaction, there is a far deeper and wider tolerance and even
+sympathy for every form of religious belief. Religion is recognised as a
+matter of personal preference, and the agnostic creed has lost much of
+its aggressive definiteness.
+
+It appears to me that, so far as I can measure the movement of my
+brother's mind, when he decided first to take Orders his religion was of
+a mystical and �sthetic kind; and I do not think that there is any
+evidence that he really examined the scientific and agnostic position at
+all. His heart and his sense of beauty were already engaged, and life
+without religion would have scented an impossibility to him. When he
+took Orders, his experience was threefold. At the Eton Mission he was
+confronted by an Anglicanism of a devout and simple kind, which
+concentrated itself almost entirely on the social aspect of
+Christianity, on the love of God and the brotherhood of man. The object
+of the workers there was to create comradeship, and to meet the problems
+of conduct which arose by a faith in the cleansing and uplifting power
+of God. Brotherly love was its first aim.
+
+I do not think that Hugh had ever any real interest in social reform, in
+politics, in causes, in the institutions which aim at the consolidation
+of human endeavour and sympathy. He had no philosophic grasp of history,
+nor was he a student of the psychology of religion. His instincts were
+all individualistic and personal; and indeed I believe that all his life
+he was an artist in the largest sense, in the fact that his work was
+the embodiment of dreams, the expression of the beauty which he
+constantly perceived. His ideal was in one sense a larger one than the
+technically artistic ideal, because it embraced the conception of moral
+beauty even more ardently than mere external beauty. The mystical
+element in him was for ever reaching out in search of some Divine
+essence in the world. He was not in search at any time of personal
+relations. He attracted more affection than he ever gave; he rejoiced
+its sympathy and kindred companionship as a flower rejoices in sunshine;
+but I think he had little taste of the baffled suffering which
+accompanies all deep human passion. He once wrote "God has preserved me
+extraordinarily from intimacies with others. He has done this, not I. I
+have longed for intimacies and failed to win them." He had little of the
+pastoral spirit; I do not think that he yearned over unshepherded souls,
+or primarily desired to seek and save the lost. On the other hand he
+responded eagerly to any claim made to himself for help and guidance,
+and he was always eager not to chill or disappoint people who seemed to
+need him. But he found little satisfaction in his work at the Eton
+Mission, and I do not think he would ever have been at home there.
+
+At Kemsing, on the other hand, he had an experience of what I may fairly
+call the epicureanism of religion. The influences there were mainly
+�sthetic; the creation of a circle like that at Kemsing would have been
+impossible without wealth. Beautiful worship, refined enjoyment,
+cultivated companionship were all lavished upon him. But he soon tired
+of this, because it was an exotic thing. It was a little paradise of a
+very innocent kind, from which all harsh and contradictory elements had
+been excluded. But this mere sipping of exquisite flavours became to him
+a very objectless thing, because it corresponded to no real need. I
+believe that if at this time he had discovered his literary gifts, and
+had begun seriously to write, he might have been content to remain
+under such conditions, at all events for a time. But he had as yet no
+audience, and had not begun to exercise his creative imagination.
+Moreover, to a nature like Hugh's, naturally temperate and ardent, and
+with no gross or sensuous fibre of any kind, there was a real craving
+for the bareness and cleanness of self-discipline and asceticism. There
+is a high and noble pleasure in some natures towards the reduction and
+disregard of all material claims and limitations, by which a freedom and
+expansiveness of the spirit can be won. Such self-denial gives to the
+soul a freshness and buoyancy which, for those who can pursue it, is in
+itself an ecstasy of delight. And thus Hugh found it impossible to stay
+in an atmosphere which, though exquisitely refined and quiet, yet
+hampered the energy of aspiration and adventure.
+
+And so he came to the Mirfield Community, and for a time found exactly
+what he wanted. The Brotherhood did not mainly concern itself with the
+organisation of social reform, while it reduced the complications of
+life to a spare and rigorous simplicity. The question is, why this life,
+which allowed him to apply all his gifts and powers to the work which
+still, I think, was the embodiment of his visions, did not completely
+satisfy him?
+
+I think, in the first place, that it is probable that, though he was not
+conscious of it, the discipline and the subordination of the society did
+not really quite give him enough personal freedom. He continued for a
+time to hanker after community life; he used to say, when he first
+joined the Church of Rome, that he thought he might end as a Carthusian,
+or later on as a Benedictine. But he spoke less and less of this as the
+years went on, and latterly I believe that he ceased to contemplate it,
+except as a possibility in case his powers of speech and writing should
+fail him. I believe that he really, thought perhaps unconsciously,
+desired a freer hand, and that he found that the community life on the
+whole cramped his individuality. His later life was indeed a complete
+contrast to anything resembling community life; his constant
+restlessness of motion, his travels, his succession of engagements both
+in all parts of England as well as in Rome and America, were really, I
+do not doubt, more congenial to him; while his home life ultimately
+became only his opportunity for intense and concentrated literary work.
+
+But beyond and above that lay the doctrinal question. He sums up what he
+came to believe in a few words, that the Church of Rome was "the
+divinely appointed centre of unity," and he felt the "absolute need of a
+Teaching Church to preserve and to interpret the truths of Christianity
+to each succeeding generation." Once convinced of this, argument
+mattered little. Hugh was entirely fearless, adventurous, and
+independent; he had no ambitions in the ordinary sense of the word; that
+is to say he made no frontal attack upon promotion or respect. He was
+not what is called a "safe" man; he had neither caution or prudence, nor
+any regard for average opinion. I do not think he ever gave allegiance
+to any personality, nor took any direct influence from anyone. The
+various attempts he made to consult people of different schools of
+thought, all carefully recorded in his _Confessions_, were made
+courteously and deferentially; but it seems to me that any opposition or
+argument that he encountered only added fuel to the fire, and aroused
+his reason only to combat the suggestions with which he did not
+instinctively agree. Indeed I believe that it was his very isolation,
+his independence, his lack of any real deference to personal authority,
+which carried him into the Church of Rome. One who knew Hugh well and
+indeed loved him said to me a little bitterly that he had become a Roman
+Catholic not because his faith was strong, but because it was weak.
+There was a touch of truth in this. Hugh did with all his heart desire
+to base his life upon some impersonal unquestionable certainty; and
+where a more submissive mind might have reposed, as a disciple, upon the
+strength of a master, Hugh required to repose upon something august,
+age-long, overpowering, a great moving force which could not be too
+closely or precisely interrogated, but which was a living and breathing
+reality, a mass of corporate experience, in spite of the inconsistencies
+and irrationalities which must beset any system which has built up a
+logical and scientific creed in eras when neither logic nor science were
+fully understood.
+
+The fundamental difference between Catholicism and Protestantism lies
+ultimately in the old conflict between liberty and discipline, or rather
+in the degree to which each is valued. The most ardent lover of liberty
+has to admit that his own personal inclinations cannot form a
+satisfactory standard of conduct. He must in certain matters subjugate
+his will and his inclination to the prevailing laws and principles and
+beliefs, and he must sacrifice his private aims and desires to the
+common interest, even when his reason and will may not be convinced.
+That is a simple matter of compromise, and the sacrifice is made as a
+matter of expediency and duty rather than as a matter of emotion. But
+there are other natures to whom it is essential to live by emotion, and
+to whom it is a relief and delight to submerge their private
+inclinations in some larger national or religious emotion. We have seen
+of late, in the case of Germany, what tremendous strength is generated
+in a nation which can adore a national ideal so passionately that they
+can only believe it to be a blessing to other nations to have the chance
+given them, through devastation and defeat, of contributing to the
+triumph of German ideals. I do not mean that Catholicism is prepared to
+adopt similarly aggressive methods. But what Hugh did not find in
+Anglicanism was a sense of united conviction, a world-policy, a faith in
+ultimate triumph, all of which he found in Catholicism. The Catholic
+believes that God is on his side; the Anglican hopes that he is on the
+side of God. Among Anglicans, Hugh was fretted by having to find out how
+much or how little each believed. Among Catholics, that can be taken for
+granted. They are indeed two different qualities and types of faith, and
+produce, or perhaps express, different types of character. Hugh found in
+the Roman Church the comfort of corporate ideals and corporate beliefs;
+and I frankly admit that the more we became acquainted with Catholicism
+the more did we recognise the strong and simple core of evangelicalism
+within it, the mutual help and counsel, the insistence on reparation as
+the proof of penitence, the insight into simple human needs, the
+paternal indulgence combined with gentle authoritativeness. All this is
+eminently and profoundly Christian. It is not necessary here to say what
+the Anglican does not find in it or at what point it seems to become
+inconsistent with reason and liberty. But I desire to make it clear
+that what Hugh needed was an emotional surrender and a sense of
+corporate activity, and that his conversion was not a logical one, but
+the discovery of a force with which his spirit was in unison, and of a
+system which gave him exactly the impetus and the discipline which he
+required.
+
+It is curious to note that Father Tyrell, whom Hugh consulted, said to
+him that he could not receive officially any convert into the Church
+except on terms which were impossible to persons of reason; and this is
+so far true that I do not believe that Hugh's conversion was a process
+of either intellect or reason. I believe that it was a deep instinctive
+and emotional need for a basis of thought so strong and vivid that he
+need not question it. I believe he had long been seeking for such a
+basis, and that he was right to accept it, because he did so in entire
+simplicity and genuineness. My brother was not sceptical nor analytic;
+he needed the repose of a large submission, of obedience to an
+impersonal ideal. His work lay in the presentment of religious emotion,
+and for this he needed a definite and specific confidence. In no other
+Church, and least of all in Anglicanism, could this be obtained. I do
+not mean for a moment that Hugh accepted the Catholic faith simply as a
+conscious relief; he was convinced frankly and fully that the Church of
+Christ could not be a divided society, but must have a continuity of
+doctrine and tradition. He believed that to be the Divine plan and
+method. Having done this, his duty and his delight were one. He tasted
+the full joy of obedience, the relief of not having to test, to
+question, to decide; and thus his loyalty was complete, because his
+heart was satisfied, and it was easier to him to mistrust his reason
+rather than to mistrust his heart. He had been swayed to and fro by many
+interests and ardours and influences; he had wandered far afield, and
+had found no peace in symbolism uncertain of what it symbolised, or in
+reason struggling to reconcile infinite contradictions. Now he rowed no
+more against the stream; he had found no human master to serve, and now
+he had found a great ancient and living force which could bear him on.
+That was, I think, the history of his spiritual change; and of one I am
+sure, that no surrender was ever made so guilelessly, so
+disinterestedly, and in so pure and simple a mood.
+
+He has told the story of his own reception very simply and impressively.
+He wrote to my mother, "It has happened," and I see that he wrote also
+just before it to me. I quote from my diary:
+
+"_September 9_, 1903.--Also a note from Hugh, from the Woodchester
+Dominican Convent, saying that he thinks he will be received this week,
+very short but affectionate. He says he won't attempt to say all that is
+in his mind. I replied, saying that I could not wish, knowing how he
+felt, the he should do otherwise--and I blessed him in a form of words."
+
+It, may be frankly said that however much we regretted his choice, we
+none of us had the slightest wish to fetter it, or to discourage Hugh
+from following his true and conscientious convictions. One must
+recognise that the sunshine and the rain of God fall in different ways
+and at different times upon those who desire to find Him. I do not
+wholly understand in my mind how Hugh came to make the change, but
+Carlyle speaks truly when he says that there is one moral and spiritual
+law for all, which is that whatever is honestly incredible to a man that
+he may only at his direst peril profess or pretend to believe. And I
+understand in my heart that Hugh had hitherto felt like one out on the
+hillside, with wind and mist about him, and with whispers and voices
+calling out of the mist; and that here he found a fold and a comradeship
+such as he desired to find, and was never in any doubt again. And I am
+sure that he soon began to feel the tranquillity which comes from having
+taken, after much restlessness and anxiety, a hard course and made a
+painful choice.
+
+At first, however, he was deeply conscious of the strain through which
+he had passed. He wrote to me in answer to the letter mentioned above:
+
+                                                  _Sept. 23_, '03.
+
+      ... Thank you so very much for your letter. It was delightful to
+      get it. I can't tell you what happiness it has been through
+      everything to know that you, as well as the others, felt as you
+      did: and now your letter comes to confirm it.
+
+      There is surprisingly little to say about myself; since you ask--
+
+      I have nothing more than the deepest possible conviction--no
+      emotionalism or sense of relief or anything of the kind.
+
+      As regards my plans--they too are tolerably vague.... All the
+      first week I was with the Dominicans--who, I imagine, will be my
+      final destination after two or three years.
+
+      ... I imagine that I shall begin to read Theology again, in view
+      of future Ordination: and either I shall go to Rome at the
+      beginning of November; or possibly to Prior Park, near Bath--a
+      school, where I shall teach an hour a day, and read Theology.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      Mamma and I are meeting in London next week. She really has been
+      good to me beyond all words. Her patience and kindness have been
+      unimaginable.
+
+      Well--this is a dreary and egotistical letter. But you asked me to
+      write about myself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      Well--I must thank you again for your extreme kindness--I really
+      am grateful: though I am always dumb about such things when I meet
+      people.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I remember taking a walk with Provost Hornby at Eton at this date. My
+diary says:
+
+"_October_ 1903.--We talked of Hugh. The Provost was very kind and wise.
+He said, 'Such a change is a testimony of sincerity and earnestness'; he
+went on to tell a story which Jowett told him of Dr. Johnson, who said,
+when a husband and wife of his acquaintance went over to Rome, 'God
+bless them both.' At the end of the walk he said to me, 'When you write
+to your brother, remember me very kindly to him, and give him, as a
+message from me, what Johnson said.' This I thought was beautiful--more
+than courteous."
+
+I sent this message to Hugh, who was deeply touched by it, and wrote the
+Provost an affectionate and grateful letter.
+
+Soon after this he went out to Rome to prepare himself for the Orders
+which he received nine months later. My mother went to see him off. As
+the train went out of the station, and Hugh was lost to view, my mother
+turned round and saw Bishop Wilkinson, one of our dearest friends,
+waiting for her. She had told him before that Hugh was leaving by that
+train, and had asked him to bear both herself and Hugh in mind. He had
+not intruded on the parting, but now he drew my mother's hand into his
+arm and said, "If Hugh's father, when he was here on earth, would--and
+he would--have always wished him to follow his conscience, how much more
+in Paradise!" and then he went away without another word.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+CAMBRIDGE AGAIN
+
+
+Hugh went to the College of San Silvestro in Rome, and there he found
+many friends. He said that on first joining the Catholic Church, he felt
+like a lost dog; he wrote to me:
+
+                                                  Rome, _Nov. 26_, '03.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      My own news is almost impossible to tell, as everything is simply
+      bewildering: in about five years from now I shall know how I felt;
+      but at present I feel nothing but discomfort; I hate foreign
+      countries and foreign people, and am finding more every day how
+      hopelessly insular I am: because of course, under the
+      circumstances, this is the proper place for me to be: but it is a
+      kind of dentist's chair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But he soon parted once and for all with his sense of isolation; while
+the splendours of Rome, the sense of history and state and world-wide
+dominion, profoundly impressed his imagination. He was deeply inspired,
+too, by the sight of simple and and unashamed piety among the common
+folk, which appeared to him to put the colder and more cautious religion
+of England to shame. Perhaps he did not allow sufficiently for the
+temperamental differences between the two nations, but at any rate he
+was comforted and reassured.
+
+I do not know much of his doings at this time; I was hard at work at
+Windsor on the Queen's letters, and settling into a new life at
+Cambridge; but I realised that he was building up happiness fast. One
+little touch of his perennial humour comes back to my mind. He was
+describing to me some ceremony performed by a very old and absent-minded
+ecclesiastic, and how two priests stood behind him to see that he
+omitted nothing, "With the look in their eyes," said Hugh, "that you
+can see in the eyes of a terrier who is standing with ears pricked at
+the mouth of a burrow, and a rabbit preparing to bolt from within."
+
+He came back a priest, and before long he settled at Cambridge, living
+with Monsignor Barnes at Llandaff House. Monsignor Barnes was an old
+Eton contemporary and friend of my own, who had begun by going to
+Woolwich as a cadet; then he had taken orders in the Church of England,
+and then had joined the Church of Rome, and was put in charge of the
+Roman Catholic undergraduates at Cambridge. Llandaff House is a big,
+rather mysterious mansion in the main street of Cambridge, opposite the
+University Arms Hotel. It was built by the famous Bishop Watson of
+Llandaff, who held a professorship at Cambridge in conjunction with his
+bishopric, and never resided in his diocese at all. The front rooms of
+the big, two-gabled house are mostly shops; the back of the house
+remains a stately little residence, with a chapel, a garden with some
+fine trees, and opens on to the extensive and quiet park of Downing
+College.
+
+Hugh had a room which looked out on to the street, where he did his
+writing. From that date my real friendship with him began, if I may use
+the word. Before that, the difference in our ages, and the fact that I
+was a very busy schoolmaster only paying occasional visits to home, had
+prevented our seeing very much of each other in anything like equal
+comradeship. But at the beginning of 1905 I went into residence at
+Magdalene as a Fellow, and Hugh was often in and out, while I was made
+very welcome at Llandaff House. Hugh had a small income of his own, and
+he began to supplement it by writing. His needs and tastes were all
+entirely simple. He seems to me, remembering him, to have looked
+extremely youthful in those days, smaller in some ways than he did
+later. He moved very rapidly; his health was good and his activity
+great. He made friends at several of the colleges, he belonged to the
+Pitt Club, and he used to attend meetings of an undergraduates' debating
+club--the Decemviri--to which he had himself belonged. One of the
+members of that time has since told me that he was the only older man he
+had ever known who really mixed with undergraduates and debated with
+them on absolutely equal terms. But indeed, so far as looks went, though
+he was now thirty-four, he might almost have been an undergraduate
+himself.
+
+We arranged always to walk together on Sunday afternoons. As an old
+member of King's College, I had a key of the garden there in the Backs,
+and a pass-key of the college gates, which were locked on Sunday during
+the chapel service. We always went and walked about that beautiful
+garden with its winding paths, or sat out in the bowling-green. Then we
+generally let ourselves into the college grounds, and went up to the
+south porch of the chapel, where we could hear the service proceeding
+within. I can remember Hugh saying, as the Psalms came to an end
+"Anglican double chants--how comfortable and delicious, and how entirely
+irreligious!"
+
+We talked very freely and openly of all that was in our minds, and
+sometimes even argued on religion. He used to tell me that I was much
+nearer to his form of faith than most Anglicans, and I can remember his
+saying that the misery of being an Anglican was that it was all so
+rational--you had to make up your mind on every single point. "Why not,"
+he said, "make it up on one point--the authority of the Church, and have
+done with it?" "Because I can't be dictated to on points in which I feel
+I have a right to an opinion." "Ah, that isn't a faith!" "No, only a
+faith in reason." At which he would shrug his shoulders, and smile. Once
+I remember his exhibiting very strong emotion. I had spoken of the
+worship of the Virgin, and said something that seemed to him to be in a
+spirit of levity. He stopped and turned quite pale. "Ah, don't say
+that!" he said; "I feel as if you had said something cynical about
+someone very dear to me, and far more than that. Please promise not to
+speak of it again."
+
+It was in these days that I first perceived the extraordinary charm of
+both mind and manner that he possessed. In old days he had been amusing
+and argumentative enough, but he was often silent and absorbed. I think
+his charm had been developed by his new experiences, and by the number
+of strangers he had been brought into contact with; he had learned an
+eager and winning sort of courtesy, which grew and increased every year.
+On one point we wholly and entirely agreed--namely, in thinking rudeness
+of any kind to be not a mannerism, but a deadly sin. "I find injustice
+or offensiveness to myself or anyone else," he once wrote, "the hardest
+of all things to forgive." We concurred in detesting the habit of
+licensing oneself to speak one's mind, and the unpleasant English trait
+of confusing sincerity with frank brutality. There is a sort of
+Englishman who thinks he has a right, if he feels cross or contemptuous,
+to lay bare his mood without reference to his companion's feelings; and
+this seemed to us both the ugliest of phenomena.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Russell & Sons_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1907. AGED 35]
+
+Hugh saw a good deal of academic society in a quiet way--Cambridge is a
+hospitable place. I remember the consternation which was caused by his
+fainting away suddenly after a Feast at King's. He had been wedged into
+a corner, in front of a very hot fire, by a determined talker, and
+suddenly collapsed. I was fetched out to see him and found him stretched
+on a form in the Hall vestibule, being kindly cared for by the Master of
+a College, who was an eminent surgeon and a professor. Again I remember
+that we entered the room together when dining with a hospitable Master,
+and were introduced to a guest, to his bewilderment, as "Mr. Benson" and
+"Father Benson." "I must explain," said our host, "that Father Benson is
+not Mr. Benson's father!" "I should have imagined that he might be his
+son!" said the guest.
+
+After Hugh had lived at Llandaff House for a year he accepted a curacy
+at the Roman Catholic church at Cambridge. I do not know how this came
+about. A priest can be ordained "to a bishop," in which case he has to
+go where he is sent, or "on his patrimony," which gives him a degree of
+independence. Hugh had been ordained "on his patrimony," but he was
+advised to take up ministerial work. He accordingly moved into the
+Catholic rectory, a big, red-brick house, with a great cedar in front of
+it, which adjoins the church. He had a large sitting-room, looking out
+at the back over trees and gardens, with a tiny bedroom adjoining. He
+had now the command of more money, and the fitting up of his rooms was a
+great delight to him; he bought some fine old oak furniture, and fitted
+the walls with green hangings, above which he set the horns of deer,
+which he had at various times stalked and shot--he was always a keen
+sportsman. I told him it was too secular an ornament, but he would not
+hear me.
+
+Canon Scott, the rector, the kindest and most hospitable of men,
+welcomed me to the rectory, and I was often there; and our Sunday walks
+continued. Hugh became known at once as the best preacher in Cambridge,
+and great congregations flocked to hear him. I do not think he had much
+pastoral work to do; but now a complication ensued. A good many
+undergraduates used to go to hear him, ask to see him, discuss religious
+problems with him. Moreover, before he left the Anglican communion, Hugh
+had conducted a mission at Cambridge, with the result that several of
+his hearers became Roman Catholics. A certain amount of orthodox alarm
+was felt and expressed at the new and attractive religious element which
+his sermons provided, and eventually representations were made to one
+that I should use my influence with Hugh that he should leave Cambridge.
+This I totally declined to do, and suggested that the right way to meet
+it was to get an Anglican preacher to Cambridge of persuasive eloquence
+and force. I did eventually speak to Hugh about it, and he was
+indignant. He said: "I have not attempted, and shall not attempt, any
+sort of proselytisation of undergraduates--I do not think it fair, or
+even prudent. I have never started the subject of religion on any
+occasion with any undergraduate. But I must preach what I believe; and,
+of course, if undergraduates consult me, I shall tell them what I think
+and why I think it." This rule he strictly adhered to; and I do not know
+of any converts that he made.
+
+Moreover, it was at this time that strangers, attracted by his sermons
+and his books, began to consult him by letter, and seek interviews with
+him. In this relation he showed himself, I have reason to know,
+extraordinarily kind, sympathetic, and straightforward. He wrote fully
+and as often as he was consulted; he saw an ever-increasing number of
+inquirers. He used to groan over the amount of time he had to spend in
+letters and interviews, and he used to say that it often happened that
+the people least worth helping took up the most time. He always gave his
+very best; but the people who most vexed him were those engaged in
+religious inquiry, not out of any profound need, but simply for the
+emotional luxury; and who argued round and round in a circle for the
+pleasure of being sympathised with. Hugh was very clear and practical in
+his counsels, and he was, I used to think, like a wise and even stern
+physician, never influenced by sentiment. It was always interesting to
+discuss a "case" with him. I do not mean that he discussed his cases
+with me, but I used to ask him how to deal with some intellectual or
+moral problem, and his insight seemed to me wonderfully shrewd,
+sensible, and clear. He had a masterly analysis, and a power of seeing
+alternatives and contingencies which always aroused my admiration. He
+was less interested in the personal element than in the psychological;
+and I used to feel that his strength lay in dealing with a case
+scientifically and technically. Sometimes he had desperate, tragic, and
+even alarming cases to deal with; and here his fearlessness and
+toughness stood him in good stead. He never shrank appalled before any
+moral enormity. He told me once of a series of interviews he had with a
+man, not a Catholic, who appealed to him for help in the last extremity
+of moral degradation. He became aware at last that the man was insane,
+but he spared no pains to rescue him.
+
+When he first began this work he had a wave of deep unhappiness; the
+responsibility of the priesthood so overwhelmed him that for a time, I
+have learned, he used to pray night after night, that he might die in
+his sleep, if it were possible. I saw and guessed nothing of this, but I
+think it was a mood of exhaustion, because he never exhibited anything
+but an eager and animated interest in life.
+
+One of his pleasures while he was at Cambridge and ever after was the
+writing, staging, and rehearsing of little mystery-plays and sacred
+scenes for the children of St. Mary's Convent at Cambridge and for the
+choir boys of Westminster Cathedral. These he thoroughly enjoyed; he
+always loved the companionship of children, and had exactly the right
+way with them, treating them seriously, paternally, with a brisk
+authority, and never sentimentally. They were beautiful and moving
+little dramas, reverently performed. Unhappily I never saw one of them.
+Even now I remember with a stab of regret that he came to stay with me
+at Cambridge for one of these, and besought me to go with him. But I was
+shy and busy, and though I could easily have arranged to go, I did not
+and he went off alone. "Can't you really manage it?" he said.
+"Pray-a-do!" But I was obdurate, and it gives me pain now to think that
+I churlishly refused, though it is a false pathos to dwell on such
+things, and both foolish and wrong to credit the dead with remembering
+trifling grievances.
+
+But I do not think that his time at the Catholic rectory was a really
+very happy one. He needed more freedom; he became gradually aware that
+his work lay in the direction of writing, of lecturing, of preaching,
+and of advising. He took his own measure and knew his own strength. "I
+have _no_ pastoral gift," he once said to me very emphatically. "I am
+not the man to _prop_," he once wrote; "I can kindle sometimes, but not
+support. People come to me and pass on." Nor was he at ease in the
+social atmosphere of Cambridge--it seemed to him bleak, dry,
+complacently intellectual, unimaginative. He felt himself what the law
+describes as "a suspected person," with vague designs on the spiritual
+life of the place.
+
+At first, he was not rich enough to live the sort of life he desired;
+but he began to receive larger incomes from his books, and to see that
+it would soon be in his power to make a home for himself. It was then
+that our rambles in search of possible houses began, while at the same
+time he curtailed his own personal expenditure to the lowest limits,
+till his wardrobe became conspicuous for its antiquity. This, however,
+he was wholly indifferent about; his aim was to put together a
+sufficient sum to buy a small house in the country, and there to settle
+"for ever," as he used to say. "A small Perpendicular chapel and a
+white-washed cottage next door is what I want just now," he wrote about
+this time. "It must be in a sweet and secret place--preferably in
+Cornwall." Or again, "I want and mean--if it is permitted--to live in a
+small cottage in the country; to say mass and office, and to write
+books. I think that is honestly my highest ideal. I hate fuss and
+officialdom and backbiting--I wish to be at peace with God and man."
+This was his dream. The house at Hare Street was the result.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+HARE STREET
+
+
+I have no doubt at all that Hugh's seven years at Hare Street were the
+happiest of his life. He generally had some companion living there--Mr.
+Gabriel Pippet, who did much skilful designing and artistic work with
+and for him; Dr. Sessions, who managed his household affairs and acted
+as a much needed secretary; Father Watt, who was in charge of the
+Hormead Mission. At one time he had the care of a little boy, Ken
+Lindsay, which was, I think, the greatest joy he ever had. He was a most
+winning and affectionate child, and Hugh's love of children was very
+great. He taught Ken, played with him, told him stories. Among his
+papers are little touching trifles which testify to his love of the
+child--a withered flower, or some leaves in an envelope, "flower which
+Ken gave me," "leaves with which Ken tried to make a crown," and there
+are broken toys of Ken's put away, and little games and pictures which
+Hugh contrived for his pleasure, memories of happy days and hours. He
+used to talk about Ken and tell stories about his sayings and doings,
+and for a time Ken's presence gave a sense of home about Hare Street,
+and filled a part of Hugh's heart as nothing else did. It was a pleasure
+to see them together; Hugh's whole voice and bearing changed when Ken
+was with him, but he did not spoil him in the least or indulge him
+foolishly. I remember sitting with Hugh once when Ken was playing about,
+and how Hugh followed him with his eyes or listened to Ken's confidences
+and discoveries. But circumstances arose which made it necessary that
+Ken should go, and the loss of him was a great grief to Hugh--though
+even so, I admired the way in which he accepted the necessity. He always
+loved what he had got, but did not miss it if he lost it.
+
+[Illustration: AT HARE STREET, 1909
+
+Mr. J. Reeman.    Ken.    R. H. Benson.]
+
+He made friends, too, with the people of the village, put his chapel at
+their disposal for daily use, and had a Christmas festival there for
+them. He formed pleasant acquaintances with his country neighbours, and
+used to go to fish or shoot with them, or occasionally to dine out. He
+bought and restored a cottage which bordered on his garden, and built
+another house in a paddock beyond his orchard, both of which were let to
+friends. Thus it was not a solitary life at all.
+
+He had in his mind for a long time a scheme which he intended to carry
+out as soon as he had more leisure,--for it must be remembered that much
+of his lecturing and occasional writing was undertaken simply to earn
+money to enable him to accomplish his purposes. This was to found a
+community of like-minded people, who desired more opportunity for quiet
+devotion and meditation, for solitary work and contemplation, than the
+life of the world could afford them. Sometimes he designed a joint
+establishment, sometimes small separate houses; but the essence of it
+all was solitude, cheered by sympathy and enough friendly companionship
+to avoid morbidity. At one time he planned a boys' home, in connection
+with the work of his friend Mr. Norman Potter, at another a home of rest
+for troubled and invalided people, at another a community for poor and
+sensitive people, who "if they could get away from squalor and conflict,
+would blow like flowers." With his love of precise detail, he drew up
+time-tables, so many hours for devotion and meditation, so many for work
+and exercise, so many for sociability.
+
+But gradually his engagements increased so that he was constantly away,
+preaching and lecturing; and thus he was seldom at home for more than
+two or three days at a time. Thrice he went to Rome to preach courses of
+sermons, and thrice he went to America, where he made many friends.
+Until latterly he used to go away for holidays of various kinds, a motor
+tour in France, a trip to Switzerland, where he climbed mountains; and
+he often went to stay with Lord Kenmare at Killarney, where he stalked
+deer, shot and fished, and lived an out-of-door life. I remember his
+describing to me an incident on one of those visits, how he was
+returning from a deer-stalk, in the roughest clothes, when he saw a
+little group of people in a by-lane, and presently a message arrived to
+say that there was a dying woman by the roadside, and could he go to
+her. He went in haste, heard her confession, and gave her absolution,
+while the bystanders withdrew to a distance, that no word might be
+overheard, and stood bareheaded till the end came.
+
+His engagement-books, of which I have several, show a dangerous
+activity; it is difficult to see how any man could have done so much of
+work involving so much strain. But he had a clear idea in his mind. He
+used to say that he did not expect to have a long life. "Many thanks,"
+he wrote to a friend in 1905, in reply to a birthday letter. "I
+certainly want happy returns; but not very many." He also said that he
+was prepared for a break-down in his powers. He intended to do his work
+in his own way, and as much as he could while his strength lasted. At
+the same time he was anxious to save enough money to enable him to live
+quietly on at Hare Street whatever happened. The result was that even
+when he came back from his journeys the time at Hare Street was never a
+rest. He worked from morning to night at some piece of writing, and
+there were very few commissions for articles or books which he refused.
+He said latterly, in reply to an entreaty from his dear friend Canon
+Sharrock, who helped him to die, that he would take a holiday: "No, I
+never take holidays now--they make me feel so self-conscious."
+
+He was very careful to keep up with his home and his family ties. He
+used to pay regular visits to Tremans, my mother's house, and was
+generally there at Christmas or thereabouts. Latterly he had a Christmas
+festival of his own at Hare Street, with special services in the
+chapel, with games and medals for the children, and with presents for
+all alike--children, tenants, servants, neighbours, and friends. My
+sister, who lately spent a Christmas with him, says that it was more
+like an ideal Christmas than anything she had ever seen, and that he
+himself, full of eagerness and kindness and laughter, was the centre and
+mainspring of it all. He used to invite himself over to Cambridge not
+infrequently for a night or two; and I used to run over for a day to
+Hare Street to see his improvements and to look round. I remember once
+going there for an afternoon and suggesting a stroll. We walked to a
+hamlet a little way off, but to my surprise he did not know the name of
+it, and said he had never been there. I discovered that he hardly ever
+left his own little domain, but took all his exercise in gardening or
+working with his hands. He had a regular workroom at one time in the
+house, where he carved, painted, or stitched tapestries--but it was all
+intent work. When he came to Cambridge for a day, he would collect
+books from all parts of the house, read them furiously, "tearing the
+heart out of them" like Dr. Johnson. Everything was done thus, at top
+speed. His correspondence was enormous; he seldom failed to acknowledge
+a letter, and if his advice were asked he would write at great length,
+quite ungrudgingly; but his constant writing told on his script. Ten
+years ago it was a very distinctive, artistic, finely formed hand, very
+much like my father's, but latterly it grew cramped and even illegible,
+though it always had a peculiar character, and, as is often the case
+with very marked hand-writings, it tended to be unconsciously imitated
+by his friends.
+
+[Illustration: _Copyright, C. Chichester_
+
+HARE STREET, IN THE GARDEN
+
+JULY 1911
+
+R. H. Benson.    Dr. F. L. Sessions.]
+
+I used to wonder, in talk with him, how he found it possible to stay
+about so much in all sorts of houses, and see so many strange people.
+"Oh, one gets used to it," he said, adding: "besides, I am quite
+shameless now--I say that I must have a room to myself where I can work
+and smoke, and people are very good about that."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+AUTHORSHIP
+
+
+As to Hugh's books, I will here say a few words about them, because they
+were a marked part of himself; he put much skill and care into making
+them, and took fully as much rapture away. When he was writing a book,
+he was like a man galloping across country in a fresh sunny morning, and
+shouting aloud for joy. But I do not intend to make what is called an
+appreciation of them, and indeed am little competent to do so. I do not
+know the conventions of the art or the conditions of it. "Oh, I see,"
+said a critical friend to me not long ago in much disgust, "you read a
+novel for the ideas and the people and the story." "What do you read it
+for?" I said. "Why, to see how it is done, of course," he replied.
+Personally I have never read a book in my life to see how it is done,
+and what interests me, apart from the book, is the person behind it--and
+that is very elementary. Moreover, I have a particular dislike of all
+historical novels. Fact is interesting and imagination is interesting;
+but I do not care for webs of imagination hung on pegs of fact.
+Historical novels ought to be like memoirs, and they are never in the
+least like memoirs; in fact they are like nothing at all, except each
+other.
+
+_The Light Invisible_ always seemed to me a beautiful book. It was in
+1902 that Hugh began to write it, at Mirfield. He says that a book of
+stories of my own, _The Hill of Trouble_, put the idea into his
+head--but his stories have no resemblance to mine. Mine were archaic
+little romances, written in a style which a not unfriendly reviewer
+called "painfully kind," an epigram which always gave Hugh extreme
+amusement. His were modern, semi-mystical tales; he says that he
+personally came to dislike the book intensely from the spiritual point
+of view, as being feverish and sentimental, and designed unconsciously
+to quicken his own spiritual temperature. He adds that he thought the
+book mischievous, as laying stress on mystical intuition rather than
+Divine authority, and because it substituted the imagination for the
+soul. That is a dogmatic objection rather than a literary objection; and
+I suppose he really disliked it because it reminded him later on of a
+time when he was moving among shadows. But it was the first book in
+which he spread his wings, and there is, I think, a fresh and ingenuous
+beauty about it, as of a delighted adventure among new faculties and
+powers.
+
+I believe that the most beautiful book he ever wrote was _Richard
+Raynal, Solitary_; and I know he thought so himself. Of course it is an
+archaic book, and written, as musicians say, in a _mode_. It is easier
+in some ways to write a book in a style which is not authentically one's
+own, and literary imitation is not the highest art; but _Richard Raynal_
+has the beauty of a fine tapestry designed on antique lines, yet
+replenished and enriched by modern emotion, like Tennyson's _Mort
+d'Arthur_. Yet I am sure there is a deep charm of pure beauty in the
+book, both of thought and handling, and I believe that he put into it
+the best essence of his feeling and imagination.
+
+As to his historical books, I can feel their vigour and vitality, and
+their deft use of old hints and fragments. I remember once discussing
+one of them with him, and saying that his description of Queen Elizabeth
+seemed to me very vivid, but that it reminded me of a not very authentic
+picture of that queen, in spangled crimson and lace, which hung in the
+hall at Addington. Hugh laughed, and said: "Well, I must confess that
+very picture was in my mind!"
+
+With regard to his more modern stories it is impossible not to be
+impressed by their lightness and swiftness, their flashes of beauty and
+emotion, their quick rippling talk; but it is hard, at times, not to
+feel them to be vitiated by their quite unconscious tendency to
+represent a point of of view. They were once called by a malign reviewer
+"the most detestable kind of tract," and though this is what the French
+call a _saugrenu_ criticism, which implies something dull, boorish, and
+provincial, yet it is easy to recognise what is meant. It is not unjust
+to resent the appearance of the cultivated and sensitive Anglican,
+highly bred and graceful, who is sure to turn out hard and
+hollow-hearted, or the shabby, trotting, tobacco-scented Roman Catholic
+priest, who is going to emerge at a crisis as a man of inspired dignity
+and solemnity. Sometimes, undoubtedly, the books are too intent upon
+expunging other forms of religious life, rather than in tracing the
+movements of the soul. Probably this was inseparable from the position
+Hugh had taken up, and there was not the slightest pose, or desire to
+improve the situation about his mind. The descriptions, the
+lightly-touched details, the naturalness and ease of the talk are
+wholly admirable. He must have been a very swift observer, both of
+nature and people, because he never gave the least impression of
+observing anything. I never saw him stop to look at a view, or go into
+raptures over anything beautiful or picturesque; in society he was
+either silent and absorbed, or more commonly extremely animated and
+expansive. But he never seemed to be on the look-out for any impressions
+at all, and still less to be recording them.
+
+I believe that all his books, with the exception, perhaps, of _Richard
+Raynal_, can be called brilliant improvisations rather than deliberate
+works of art. "I write best," he once said, "when I rely most on
+imagination." The time which elapsed from his conception of an idea to
+the time when the book was completed was often incredibly short. I
+remember his telling me his first swift thought about _The Coward_; and
+when I next asked him about it, the book had gone to the publishers and
+he was writing another. When he was actually engaged in writing he was
+oblivious of all else, and lived in a sort of dream. I have several
+sketches of books which he made. He used to make a rough outline, a kind
+of _scenario_, indicating the gradual growth of the plot. That was done
+rapidly, and he always said that the moment his characters were
+conceived, they began to haunt his mind with emphatic vividness; but he
+wrote very fast, and a great quantity at a time. His life got fuller and
+fuller of engagements, but he would get back to Hare Street for a day or
+two, when he would write from morning to night with a brief interval for
+gardening or handicraft, and briefer intervals for meals. He was fond of
+reading aloud bits of the books, as they grew. He read all his books
+aloud to my mother in MS., and paid careful heed to her criticisms,
+particularly with reference to his female characters, though it has been
+truly said that the women in his novels are mostly regarded either as
+indirect obstacles or as direct aids to conversion.
+
+Mr. Belloc once said, very wisely and truly, that inertia was the
+breeding-ground of inspiration. I think, on the whole, that the total
+and entire absence of any species of inertia in Hugh's temperament
+reacted in a way unfavourably on his books. I do not think they simmered
+in his mind, but were projected, hot and smoking, from the fiery
+crucible of thought. There seems to me a breathless quality about them.
+Moreover I do not think that there is much trace of the subtle chemistry
+of mutual relations about his characters. In life, people undergo
+gradual modifications, and other people exert psychological effects upon
+them. But in Hugh's books the characters are all fiercely occupied in
+being themselves from start to finish; they have exhausted moods, but
+they have not dull or vacant moods; they are always typical and
+emphatic. This is really to me the most interesting thing about his
+books, that they are all projections of his own personality into his
+characters. He is behind them all; and writing with Hugh was, like so
+many things that he did, a game which he played with all his might. I
+have spoken about this elsewhere, because it accounted for much in his
+life; and when he was engaged in writing, there was always the delicious
+sense of the child, furiously and absorbingly at play, about him.
+
+It is said that no artist is ever really interested in another artist's
+work. My brothers, Fred and Hugh, my sister and myself would sometimes
+be at home together, and all writing books. Hugh was, I think, always
+the first inclined to produce his work for inspection; but we had a
+tacit convention which was not in the least unsympathetic, not to feel
+bound to be particularly interested in each other's books. My books, I
+felt, bored Hugh more than his bored me; but there was this advantage,
+that when we read each other's books, as we often did, any critical
+praise that we could offer was much more appreciated than if we had
+felt bound to proffer conventional admiration. Hugh once told me that he
+envied my _sostenuto_; but on another occasion, when I said I had
+nothing to write about, and feared I had written too many books, Hugh
+said: "Why not write a book about having nothing to write about?" It was
+good advice and I took it. I can remember his real and obvious pleasure
+when I once praised _Richard Raynal_ to him with all my might. But
+though he enjoyed praise, it was always rather because it confirmed his
+own belief that his work was worth doing. He did not depend in the
+smallest degree either upon applause or sympathy. Indeed, by the time
+that a book was out, he had generally got another on the stocks, and did
+not care about the previous one at all.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1910. AGED 39]
+
+Neither do I think that his books emanated from a high artistic ideal. I
+do not believe that he was really much interested in his craft. Rather
+he visualised a story very vividly, and then it seemed to him the finest
+fun in the world to spin it all as rapidly as he could out of his
+brain, to make it all alert with glancing life. It was all a personal
+confession; his books bristle with his own dreams, his own dilemmas, his
+own social relations; and when he had once firmly realised the Catholic
+attitude, it seemed to him the one thing worth writing about.
+
+While I write these pages I have been dipping into _The
+Conventionalists_. It is full of glow and drama, even melodrama; but
+somehow it does not recall Hugh to my mind. That seems strange to me,
+but I think of him as always larger than his books, less peremptory,
+more tolerant, more impatient of strain. The book is full of strain; but
+then I remember that in the old days, when he played games, he was a
+provoking and even derisive antagonist, and did not in the least resent
+his adversaries being both; and I come back to my belief in the game,
+and the excitement of the game. I do not, after all, believe that his
+true nature flowed quite equably into his books, as I think it did into
+_The Light Invisible_ and _Richard Raynal_. It was a demonstration, and
+he enjoyed using his skill and adroitness; he loved to present the
+smouldering and flashing of passions, the thrill and sting of which he
+had never known. Saved as he was by his temperament alike from deep
+suffering and tense emotion, and from any vital mingling either with the
+scum and foam or with the stagnancy and mire of life, the books remain
+as a brilliant illusion, with much of the shifting hues and changing
+glimmer of his own ardent and restless mind rippling over the surface of
+a depth which is always a little mysterious as to the secrets it
+actually holds.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+FAILING HEALTH
+
+
+Hugh's health on the whole was good up to the year 1912, though he had a
+troublesome ailment, long ignored, which gave him a good deal of
+malaise. He very much disliked being spoken to about his health, and
+accepted no suggestions on the subject. But he determined at the end of
+1912, after enduring great pain, to have an operation, which was quite
+successful, but the shock of which was considerable. He came down to
+Tremans just before, and it was clear that he suffered greatly; but so
+far from dreading the operation, he anticipated it with a sense of
+immense relief, and after it was over, though he was long unwell, he was
+in the highest spirits. But he said after he came back from Rome that he
+felt ten years older; and I can recall his coming down to Cambridge not
+long after and indulging one evening in an immense series of yawns, for
+which he apologised, saying, "I'm tired, I'm tired--not at the top, but
+deep down inside, don't you know?"
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by H. Abbott, Lindfield_
+
+AT TREMANS, HORSTED KEYNES
+
+DECEMBER, 1913
+
+A. C. Benson.    R. H. Benson.    E. F. Benson.
+Aged 51.         Aged 42.         Aged 46.]
+
+But it was not until 1914 that his health really declined. He came over
+to Cambridge at the beginning of August, when the war was impending. He
+stayed with me over the Sunday; he was tired and overstrained,
+complained that he felt unable to fix his mind upon anything, and he was
+in considerable depression about the possibility of war. I have never
+seen him so little able to throw off an anxiety; but he dined in Hall
+with me on the Sunday night, met some old friends, and was full of talk.
+He told me later in the evening that he was in much anxiety about some
+anonymous menace which he had received. He would not enter into details,
+but he spoke very gravely about it. However, later in the month, I went
+over with a friend to see him at Hare Street, and found him in cheerful
+spirits in spite of everything. He had just got the place, he said,
+into perfect order, and now all it wanted was to be left alone. It was a
+day of bright hot sunlight, and we lunched out of doors near the chapel
+under the shade of the yew trees. He produced a peculiar and pleasant
+wine, which he had made on the most scientific principles out of his own
+grapes. We went round and looked at everything, and he showed me the
+preparation for the last adornment, which was to be a rose garden near
+the chapel. We walked into the orchard and stood near the Calvary,
+little thinking that he would be laid to rest there hardly two months
+later.
+
+The weeks passed on, and at the end of September I went to stay near
+Ambleside with some cousins, the Marshalls, in a beautiful house called
+Skelwith Fold, among lovely woodlands, with the mountains rising on
+every side, and a far-off view down Langdale. Here I found Hugh staying.
+He was writing some Collects for time of war, and read many of them
+aloud to me for criticism. He was also painting in oils, attempting very
+difficult landscapes with considerable success. They stood drying in the
+study, and he was much absorbed in them; he also was fishing keenly in a
+little trout lake near the house, and walking about with a gun. His
+spirits were very equable and good. But he told me that he had gone out
+shooting in September over some fields lent him by a neighbour, and had
+had to return owing to breathlessness; and he added that he suffered
+constantly from breathlessness and pain in the chest and arms, that he
+could only walk a few paces at a time, and then had to rest to recover
+his breath. He did not seem to be anxious about it, but he went down one
+morning to celebrate Mass at Ambleside, refusing the offer of the car,
+and found himself in such pain that he then and there went to a doctor,
+who said that he believed it to be indigestion.
+
+He sat that morning after breakfast with me, smoking, and complaining
+that the pain was very severe. But he did not look ill; and the pain
+suddenly left him. "Oh what bliss!" he said. "It's gone, suddenly and
+entirely--and now I must go out and finish my sketch."
+
+The only two things that made me feel anxious were that he had given up
+smoking to a considerable extent, and that he said he meant to consult
+our family doctor; but he was so lively and animated--I remember one
+night the immense zest and intensity with which he played a game of
+throwing an old pack of cards across the room into the grate--that it
+was impossible to think that his condition was serious.
+
+Indeed, I said good-bye to him when he went off, without the least
+anticipation of evil. My real hope was that he would be told he had been
+overdoing it, and ordered to rest; and a few days later, when I heard
+that this was what the doctor advised, I wrote to him suggesting that he
+should come and settle at Cambridge for a couple of months, do exactly
+what he liked, and see as much or as little of people as he liked. It
+seems that he showed this letter to one of the priests at Manchester,
+and said, "There, that is what I call a real invitation--that is what I
+shall do!"
+
+Dr. Ross-Todd saw him, and told him that it was a neuralgic affection,
+"false angina," and that his heart was sound, but that he must diminish
+his work. He pleaded to be allowed to finish his imminent engagements;
+the doctor said that he might do that, if he would put off all
+subsequent ones. This was wisely done, in order to reassure him, as he
+was an excitable though not a timid patient. He was at Hare Street for a
+day or two, and his trusted servant, Mr. Reeman, tells me that he seemed
+ill and out of spirits. The last words he said as he drove away, looking
+round the lime-encircled lawn, were, "Ah! the leaves will all be gone
+when I come home again."
+
+He preached at Salford on October 4, and went to Ulverston on October 5,
+where he conducted a mission. On October 10 he returned, and Canon
+Sharrock says that he arrived in great pain, and had to move very
+slowly. But he preached again on October 11, though he used none of the
+familiar gestures, but stood still in the pulpit. He suffered much after
+the sermon, and rested long in a chair in the sacristy. He started to go
+to London on the Monday morning, but had to return in the taxi, feeling
+too ill to travel. Then followed days of acute pain, during which he no
+doubt caught a severe chill. He could not sleep, and he could only
+obtain relief by standing up. He wandered restlessly one night about the
+corridors, very lightly clad, and even went out into the court. He stood
+for two or three hours leaning on the mantelpiece of his room, with
+Father Gorman sitting near him, and trying in vain to persuade him to
+retire to bed.
+
+When he was not suffering he was full of life, and even of gaiety. He
+went one of these afternoons, at his own suggestion, to a cinema show
+with one of the priests, but though he enjoyed it, and even laughed
+heartily, he said later that it had exhausted him.
+
+He wrote some letters, putting off many of his autumn and winter
+engagements. But he grew worse; a specialist was called in, and, though
+the diagnosis was entirely confirmed, it was found that pneumonia had
+set in.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE END
+
+
+I had spent a long day in London at a business meeting, where we
+discussed a complicated educational problem. I came away alone; I was
+anxious to have news of my sister, who had that morning undergone a
+slight operation; but I was not gravely disquieted, because no serious
+complications were expected.
+
+When I reached my house there were two telegrams awaiting me, one to say
+that the operation had gone well, the other from Canon Sharrock, of
+Salford, to say that my brother was dangerously ill of pneumonia. I
+wired at once for a further report, and before it arrived made up my
+mind that I must go to him. I waited till the reply came--it was a
+little more favourable--went up to London, and caught a midnight train
+for Manchester.
+
+The news had the effect which a sudden shock is apt to have, of inducing
+a sense of curious unreality. I neither read nor slept, nor even thought
+coherently. I was just aware of disaster and fear. I was alone in my
+compartment. Sometimes we passed through great, silent, deserted
+stations, or stopped outside a junction for an express to pass. At one
+or two places there was a crowd of people, seeing off a party of
+soldiers, with songs and cheers. Further north I was aware at one time
+that the train was labouring up a long incline, and I had a faint sense
+of relief when suddenly the strain relaxed, and the train began to run
+swiftly and smoothly downwards; I had just one thought, the desire to
+reach my brother, and over and over again the dread of what I might
+hear.
+
+It was still dark and chilly when I arrived at Manchester. The great
+station was nearly empty. I drove hurriedly through dimly-lit streets.
+Sometimes great factories towered up, or dark house-fronts shuttered
+close. Here there were high steel networks of viaducts overhead, or
+parapets of bridges over hidden waterways. At last I came to where a
+great church towered up, and an iron-studded door in a blank wall
+appeared. I was told this was the place, and pushing it open I went up a
+stone-flagged path, among beds of soot-stained shrubs, to where a
+lantern shone in the porch of a sombre house. There was a window high up
+on the left, where a shaded lamp was burning and a fire flickered on the
+ceiling, and I knew instinctively that this was my brother's room. I
+rang, and presently a weary-eyed, kindly priest, in a hastily-donned
+cassock, appeared. He said at once that my brother was a little better
+and was asleep. The doctors were to see him at nine. I asked where I
+could go, and he advised a hotel hard by. "We did not expect you," he
+said, "or we would have had a room ready, but now I fear we could hardly
+make you comfortable."
+
+I went to the hotel, a big, well-equipped place, and was taken to a
+bedroom, where I slept profoundly, out of utter weariness. Then I went
+down to the Bishop's House again at nine o'clock. By daylight Manchester
+had a grim and sinister air. It was raining softly and the air was heavy
+with smoke. The Bishop's House stood in what was evidently a poor
+quarter, full of mean houses and factories, all of red brick, smeared
+and stained with soot. The house itself appeared like a great college,
+with paved corridors, dark arches, and many doors. There was a lighted
+room like a sacristy, and a faint scent of incense drifted in from the
+door which led into the church. Upstairs, in a huge throne-room with a
+gilded chair of state and long, bare tables, I met the doctors--Dr.
+Bradley, a Catholic, and Professor Murray, a famous Manchester
+physician, in khaki uniform, both most gentle and kind. Canon Sharrock
+joined us, a tall, robust man, with a beautiful tenderness of manner and
+a brotherly air. They gave me a better report, but could not disguise
+from me that things were very critical. It was pneumonia of a very
+grave kind which had supervened on a condition of overwork and
+exhaustion. I see now that they had very little hope of recovery, but I
+did not wholly perceive it then.
+
+Then I went with the Canon to the end of the room. I saw two iron
+cylinders on the table with brass fittings, and somehow knew that they
+contained oxygen.
+
+The Canon knocked, and Hugh's voice said, clearly and resonantly, "Come
+in." I found him in bed, in a big library, the Bishop's own room. There
+were few signs of illness except a steam-kettle and a few bottles; a
+nurse was in the adjoining room. He was unable to speak very much, as
+his throat troubled him; but he was full of humour and brightness. I
+told him such news as I could think of. He knew that I was very busy,
+but was pleased that I had come to see him. He said that he felt really
+better, and that I should be able to go back the next day. He said a few
+words about a will he had made, but added, "Mind, I don't think I am
+going to die! I did yesterday, but I feel really better. This is only
+by way of precaution." We talked about a friend of mine in Manchester, a
+militant Protestant. "Yes," said Hugh, "he spoke of me the other day as
+a 'hell-hound'--not very tactful!" He said that he could not sleep for
+long together, but that he did not feel tired--only bored. I was told I
+must not stay long with him. He said once or twice, "It's awfully good
+of you to have come."
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Lofthouse, Crosbie & Co._
+
+BISHOP'S HOUSE, SALFORD
+
+The Church on the left is the transept of St. John's Cathedral, Salford,
+where Hugh preached his last sermon. The room in which he died was the
+Bishop's Library. One of its windows is visible on the first floor to
+the left of the porch.]
+
+I went away after a little, feeling very much reassured. He did not give
+the impression of being gravely ill at all, he was so entirely himself.
+I wrote a few letters and then returned, while he ate his luncheon, a
+baked apple--but this was painful to him and he soon desisted. He talked
+again a little, with the same liveliness, but as he began to be drowsy,
+I left him again.
+
+Dr. Bradley soon came to me, and confessed he felt anxious. "It may be a
+long and critical business," he said. "If he can maintain his strength
+like this for several days, he may turn the corner--he is a difficult
+patient. He is not afraid, but he is excitable, and is always asking for
+relief and suggesting remedies." I said something about summoning the
+others. "On no account," he said. "It would give him the one impression
+we must try to avoid--much depends upon his own hopefulness."
+
+I went back to my hotel, slumbered over a book, went in for a little to
+the cathedral service, and came back about five o'clock. The nurse was
+not in the room at the moment. Hugh said a few words to me, but had a
+sudden attack of faintness. I gave him a little whisky at his own
+request, the doctor was fetched, and there followed a very anxious hour,
+while various remedies were tried, and eventually oxygen revived him. He
+laid his head down on the pillow, smiled at me, and said, "Oh, what
+bliss! I feel absolutely comfortable--it's wonderful."
+
+The doctor beckoned me out, and told me that I had better move my things
+across to the house and sleep there. "I don't like the look of things
+at all," he said; "your place is certainly here." He added that we had
+better wait until the morning before deciding whether the others should
+be sent for. I moved my things in, and had supper with the priests, who
+were very kind to me. They talked much about Hugh, of his gaiety and
+humour; and I saw that he had given his best to these friends of his,
+and lived with them in brotherly simplicity.
+
+I did not then think he was going to die, and I certainly expected no
+sudden change. I ought, no doubt, to have realised that the doctors had
+done their best to prepare me for his death; but the mind has an
+instinctive way of holding out the shield of hope against such fears.
+
+I was told at this time that he was to be left quiet, so I merely
+slipped in at ten o'clock. Hugh was drowsy and resting quietly; he just
+gave me a nod and a smile.
+
+The one thing which made me anxious, on thinking over our interviews in
+the course of the day was this--that he seemed to have a preoccupation
+in his mind, though he had spoken cheerfully enough about various
+matters. It did not seem either a fear or an anxiety. It was rather that
+he knew that he might die, I now believe, and that he desired to live,
+and was thinking about all the things he had to do and wished to do, and
+that his trains of thought continually ended in the thought--"Perhaps I
+may not live to do them." He wished too, I thought, to reassure himself,
+and was pleased at feeling better, and at seeing that I thought him
+better than I had expected. He was a sensitive patient, the doctor said,
+and often suggested means of keeping up his strength. But he showed no
+fear at any time, though he seemed like one who was facing a foe; like a
+soldier in the trenches with an enemy opposite him whom he could not
+quite discern.
+
+However, I went off to bed, feeling suddenly very tired--I had been for
+thirty-six hours almost without sleep, and it seemed to me as if whole
+days had passed since I left Cambridge. My room was far away, a little
+plain cell in a distant corridor high up. I slept a little; when
+suddenly, through the glass window above my door, I saw the gleam of a
+light, and became aware that someone was rapidly drawing near in the
+corridor. In a moment Canon Sharrock tapped and entered. He said "Mr.
+Benson, your brother is sinking fast--he has asked for you; he said, 'Is
+my brother anywhere near at hand?' and when I said yes, that you were in
+the house, he said, 'Thank God!' Do not lose any time; I will leave the
+nurse on the stairs to light you." He went out, and I put on a few
+things and went down the great dark arches of the staircase, with a
+glimmering light below, and through the throne-room with the nurse. When
+I came in I saw Hugh sitting up in bed; they had put a chair beside him,
+covered with cushions, for him to lean against. He was pale and
+breathing very fast, with the nurse sponging his brow. Canon Sharrock
+was standing at the foot of the bed, with his stole on, reading the
+last prayers from a little book. When I entered, Hugh fixed his eyes on
+me with a strange smile, with something triumphant in it, and said in a
+clear, natural voice, "Arthur, this is the end!" I knelt down near the
+bed. He looked at me, and I knew somehow that we understood each other
+well, that he wanted no word or demonstration, but was just glad I was
+with him. The prayers began again. Hugh crossed himself faintly once or
+twice, made a response or two. Then he said: "I beg your pardon--one
+moment--my love to them all." The big room was brightly lit; something
+on the hearth boiled over, and the nurse went across the room. Hugh said
+to me: "You will make certain I am dead, won't you?" I said "Yes," and
+then the prayers went on. Suddenly he said to the nurse: "Nurse, is it
+any good my resisting death--making any effort?" The nurse said: "No,
+Monsignor; just be as quiet as you can." He closed his eyes at this, and
+his breath came quicker. Presently he opened his eyes again and looked
+at me, and said in a low voice: "Arthur, don't look at me! Nurse, stand
+between my brother and me!" He moved his hand to indicate where she
+should stand. I knew well what was in his mind; we had talked not long
+before of the shock of certain sights, and how a dreadful experience
+could pierce through the reason and wound the inner spirit; and I knew
+that he wished to spare me the pain of seeing him die. Once or twice he
+drew up his hands as though trying to draw breath, and sighed a little;
+but there was no struggle or apparent pain. He spoke once more and said:
+"I commit my soul to God, to Mary, and to Joseph." The nurse had her
+hand upon his pulse, and presently laid his hand down, saying: "It is
+all over." He looked very pale and boyish then, with wide open eyes and
+parted lips. I kissed his hand, which was warm and firm, and went out
+with Canon Sharrock, who said to me: "It was wonderful! I have seen many
+people die, but no one ever so easily and quickly."
+
+It was wonderful indeed! It seemed to me then, in that moment, strange
+rather than sad. He had been _himself_ to the very end, no diminution of
+vigour, no yielding, no humiliation, with all his old courtesy and
+thoughtfulness and collectedness, and at the same time, I felt, with a
+real adventurousness--that is the only word I can use. I recognised that
+we were only the spectators, and that he was in command of the scene. He
+had made haste to die, and he had gone, as he was always used to do,
+straight from one finished task to another that waited for him. It was
+not like an end; it was as though he had turned a corner, and was
+passing on, out of sight but still unquestionably there. It seemed to me
+like the death of a soldier or a knight, in its calmness of courage, its
+splendid facing of the last extremity, its magnificent determination to
+experience, open-eyed and vigilant, the dark crossing.
+
+[Illustration: THE CALVARY AT HARE STREET, 1913
+
+The grave is to the left of the mound.]
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+BURIAL
+
+
+We had thought that he should be buried at Manchester; but a paper of
+directions was found saying that he wished to be buried at Hare Street,
+in his own orchard, at the foot of his Calvary. My mother arrived on the
+Monday evening, and in the course of Tuesday we saw his body for the
+last time, in biretta and cassock, with a rosary in his hands. He looked
+strangely young, like a statue carved in alabaster, with no trace of
+pain or weariness about him, simply asleep.
+
+His coffin was taken to the midnight train by the clergy of the Salford
+Cathedral and from Buntingford station by my brother Fred to his own
+little chapel, where it rested all the Thursday. On the Friday the
+Cardinal came down, with Canons from Westminster and the choir. A
+solemn Requiem was sung. The Cardinal consecrated a grave, and he was
+laid there, in the sight of a large concourse of mourners. It was very
+wonderful to see them. There were many friends and neighbours, but there
+were also many others, unknown to me and even to each other, whom Hugh
+had helped and comforted in different ways, and whose deep and visible
+grief testified to the sorrow of their loss and to the loyalty of their
+affection.
+
+I spent some strange solitary days at Hare Street in the week which
+followed, going over from Cambridge and returning, working through
+papers and letters. There were all Hugh's manuscripts and notes, his
+books of sermons, all the written evidences of his ceaseless energy. It
+was an astonishing record of diligence and patient effort. It seemed
+impossible to believe that in a life of perpetual travelling and endless
+engagements he yet had been able to accomplish all this mass of work.
+His correspondence too--though he had evidently destroyed all private
+spiritual confidences--was of wide and varied range, and it was
+difficult to grasp that it yet represented the work of so comparatively
+few years. The accumulation also of little, unknown, unnamed gifts was
+very great, while the letters of grief and sympathy which I received
+from friends of his, whose very names were unknown to me, showed how
+intricate and wide his personal relations had been. And yet he had
+carried all this burden very lightly and easily. I realised how
+wonderful his power must have been of storing away in his mind the
+secrets of many hearts, always ready to serve them, and yet able to
+concentrate himself upon any work of his own.
+
+In his directions he spoke of his great desire to keep his house and
+chapel as much as possible in their present state. "I have spent an
+immense amount of time and care on these things," he said. It seemed
+that he had nearly realised his wish, by careful economy, to live at
+Hare Street quietly and without anxiety, even if his powers had failed
+him; and it was strange to walk as I did, one day when I had nearly
+finished my task, round about the whole garden, which had been so
+tangled and weed-choked a wilderness, and the house at first so ruinous
+and bare, and to realise that it was all complete and perfect, a setting
+of order and peace. How insecure and frail the beautiful hopes of
+permanence and quiet enjoyment all seemed! I passed over the smooth
+lawn, under the leafless limes, through the yew-tree walk to the
+orchard, where the grave lay, with the fading wreaths, and little paths
+trodden in the grass; by the hazel hedge and the rose-garden, and the
+ranked vegetable rows with their dying flower-borders; into the chapel
+with its fantasy of ornament, where the lamp burned before the shrine;
+through the house, with its silent panelled rooms all so finely ordered,
+all prepared for daily use and tranquil delight. It seemed impossible
+that he should not be returning soon in joyful haste, as he used to
+return, pleased to show his new designs and additions. But I could not
+think of him as having any shadow of regret about it all, or as coming
+back, a pathetic _revenant_, to the scene of his eager inventiveness.
+That was never his way, to brood over what had been done. It was always
+the new, the untouched, the untried, that he was in search of. Hugh
+never wished that he had done otherwise, nor did he indulge in the
+passion of the past, or in the half-sad, half-luxurious retrospect of
+the days that are no more. "Ah," I could fancy him saying, "that was all
+delightful while it lasted--it was the greatest fun in the world! But
+now!"--and I knew as well in my heart and mind as if he had come behind
+me and spoken to me, that he was moving rapturously in some new
+experience of life and beauty. He loved indeed to speak of old days, to
+recall them vividly and ecstatically, as though they were actually
+present to him; and I could think of him as even delighting to go over
+with me those last hours of his life that we spent together, not with
+any shadow of dread or shrinking, but just as it pleased Odysseus to
+tell the tale of how he sped down the whirlpool, with death beneath and
+death above, facing it all, taking it all in, not cherishing any
+delusion of hope, and yet enjoying it as an adventure of real experience
+which it was good to have tasted even so.
+
+And when I came to look at some of his letters, and saw the sweet and
+generous things which he had said of myself in the old days, his
+gratitude for trifling kindnesses and gifts which I had myself
+forgotten, I felt a touch of sorrow for a moment that I had not been
+even nearer to him than I was, and more in his enlivening company; and I
+remembered how, when he arrived to see me, he would come lightly in, say
+a word of greeting, and plunge into talk of all that we were doing; and
+then I felt that I must not think of him unworthily, as having any
+grievance or shadow of concern about my many negligences and coldnesses:
+but that we were bound by ties of lasting love and trust, and shared a
+treasure of dear memories and kindnesses; and that I might leave his
+spirit in its newly found activities, take up my own task in the light
+of his vivid example, and look forward to a day when we might be again
+together, sharing recollection and purpose alike, as cheerfully and
+gladly as we had done in the good days that were gone, with all the
+added joy of the new dawn, and with the old understanding made more
+perfect.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
+
+
+Hugh was always youthful-looking for his age, light and quick in
+movement, intent but never deliberate, passing very rapidly from one
+thing to another, impatient of boredom and dullness, always desiring to
+do a thing that very minute. He was fair of complexion, with grey-blue
+eyes and a shock head of light hair, little brushed, and uncut often too
+long. He was careless of appearances, and wore clothes by preference of
+great shabbiness. He told me in 1909 that he had only bought one suit in
+the last five years. I have seen him, when gardening at Hare Street,
+wear a pair of shoes such as might have been picked up in a ditch after
+a tramp's encampment. At the same time he took a pleasure of a boyish
+kind in robes of state. He liked his Monsignor's purple, his red-edged
+cassock and crimson cincture, as a soldier likes his uniform. He was in
+no way ascetic; and though he could be and often seemed to be wholly
+indifferent to food, yet he was amused by culinary experiments, and
+collected simple savoury recipes for household use. He was by far the
+quickest eater I have ever seen. He was a great smoker of cheap
+cigarettes. They were a natural sedative for his highly strung
+temperament. I do not, think he realised how much he smoked, and he
+undoubtedly smoked too much for several years.
+
+He was always quick, prompt, and decisive. He had an extraordinary
+presence of mind in the face of danger. My sister remembers how he was
+once strolling with her, in his cassock, in a lane near Tremans, when a
+motor came down the road at a great pace, and Roddy, the collie, trotted
+out in front of it, with his back turned to the car, unconscious of
+danger. Hugh took a leap, ran up hill, snatched Roddy up just in front
+of the wheels, and fell with him against the hedge on the opposite side
+of the road.
+
+He liked a degree of comfort, and took great pleasure in having
+beautiful things about him. "I do not believe that lovely things should
+be stamped upon," he once wrote to a friend who was urging the dangers
+of a strong sense of beauty; adding, "should they not rather be led in
+chains?" Yet his taste was not at all severe, and he valued things for
+their associations and interest as much as he did for their beauty. He
+had a great accumulation of curious, pretty, and interesting things at
+Hare Street, and took a real pleasure in possession. At the same time he
+was not in the least dependent on such things, and could be perfectly
+happy in bare and ugly rooms. There was no touch of luxuriousness about
+him, and the adornment of his house was one of the games that he played.
+One of his latest amusements was to equip and catalogue his library. He
+was never very much of a reader, except for a specific purpose. He read
+the books that came in his way, but he had no technical knowledge of
+English literature. There were many English classics which he never
+looked into, and he made no attempt to follow modern developments. But
+he read books so quickly that he was acquainted more or less with a wide
+range of authors. At the same time he never wasted any time in reading
+books which did not interest him, and he knew by a sort of intuition the
+kind of books he cared about.
+
+He was of late years one of the liveliest and most refreshing of
+talkers. As a boy and a young man he was rather silent than otherwise in
+the family circle, but latterly it was just the opposite. He talked
+about anything that was in his mind, but at the same time he did not
+wish to keep the talk in his own hands, and had an eager and delighted
+recognition of his companion's thoughts and ideas.
+
+His sense of humour was unfailing, and when he laughed, he laughed with
+the whole of himself, loudly and contagiously, abandoning himself with
+tears in his eyes to helpless paroxysms of mirth. There was never the
+smallest touch of affectation or priggishness about his attitude, and he
+had none of the cautious and uneasy reverence which is apt to overshadow
+men of piety. He was intensely amused by the humorous side of the people
+and the institutions which he loved. Here are two slight illustrations
+which come back to my mind. He told me these two stories in one day at
+Tremans. One was that of a well-known Anglican Bishop who attended a
+gathering of clergy, and in his valedictory speech said that they would
+expect him to make some allusion to the fact that one who had attended
+their last meeting was no longer of the Anglican communion, having
+joined the Church of Rome. They would all, he said, regret the step
+which he had thought fit to take; but they must not forget the serious
+fall their poor friend had had from his bicycle not long before, which
+had undoubtedly affected gravely his mental powers. Then he told me of
+an unsatisfactory novice in a religious house who had been expelled from
+the community for serious faults. His own account of it was that the
+reason why he was expelled was that he used to fall asleep at
+meditation, and snore so loud that he awoke the elder brethren.
+
+Though Hugh held things sacred, he did not hold them inconveniently
+sacred, and it did not affect their sacredness if they had also a
+humorous side to them. He had no temptation to be easily shocked, and
+though he hated all impure suggestiveness, he could be amused by what
+may be called broad humour. I always felt him to be totally free from
+prudishness, and it seemed to me that he drew the line in exactly the
+right place between things that might be funny and unrefined, and things
+which were merely coarse and gross. The fact was that he had a perfectly
+simple manliness about him, and an infallible tact, which was wholly
+unaffected, as to the limits of decorum. The result was that one could
+talk to him with the utmost plainness and directness. His was not a
+cloistered and secluded temperament. He knew the world, and had no fear
+of it or shrinking from it.
+
+He dearly loved an argument, and could be both provoking and incisive.
+He was vehement, and hated dogmatic statements with which he did not
+agree. When he argued, he used a good deal of gesture, waving his hands
+as though to clear the air, emphasising what he said with little sweeps
+and openings of his hands, sometimes covering his face and leaning
+forwards, as if to gain time for the onset. His arguments were not so
+much clear as ingenious, and I never knew anyone who could defend a poor
+case so vigorously. When he was strained and tired, he would argue more
+tenaciously, and employ fantastic illustrations with great skill; but it
+always blew over very quickly, and as a rule he was good-tempered and
+reasonable enough. But he liked best a rapid and various interchange of
+talk. He was bored by slow-moving and solemn minds, but could extract a
+secret joy from pompous utterances, while nothing delighted him more
+than a full description of the exact talk and behaviour of affected and
+absurd people.
+
+His little stammer was a very characteristic part of his manner. It was
+much more marked when he was a boy and a young man, and it varied much
+with his bodily health. I believe that it never affected him when
+preaching or speaking in public, though he was occasionally nervous
+about its doing so. It was not, so to speak, a long and leisurely
+stammer, as was the case with my uncle, Henry Sidgwick, the little toss
+of whose head as he disengaged a troublesome word, after long dallying
+with a difficult consonant, added a touch of _friandise_ to his talk.
+Hugh's stammer was rather like a vain attempt to leap over an obstacle,
+and showed itself as a simple hesitation rather than as a repetition. He
+used, after a slight pause, to bring out a word with a deliberate
+emphasis, but it never appeared to suspend the thread of his talk. I
+remember an occasion, as a young man, when he took sherry, contrary to
+his wont, through some dinner-party; and when asked why he had done
+this, he said that it happened to be the only liquid the name of which
+he was able to pronounce on that evening. He used to feel humiliated by
+it, and I have heard him say, "I'm sorry--I'm stammering badly
+to-night!" but it would never have been very noticeable, if he had not
+attended to it. It is clear, however, from some of his letters that he
+felt it to be a real disability in talk, and even fancied that it made
+him absurd, though as a matter of fact the little outward dart of his
+head, as he forced the recalcitrant word out, was a gesture which his
+friends both knew and loved.
+
+He learned to adapt himself to persons of very various natures, and
+indeed was so eager to meet people on their own ground that it seems to
+me he was to a certain extent misapprehended. I have seen a good many
+things said about him since his death which seem to me to be entire
+misinterpretations of him, arising from the simple fact that they were
+reflections of his companion's mood mirrored in his own sympathetic
+mind. Further, I am sure that what was something very like patient and
+courteous boredom in him, when he was confronted with some sentimental
+and egotistical character, was interpretated as a sad and remote
+unworldliness. Someone writing of him spoke of his abstracted and
+far-off mood, with his eyes indwelling in a rapture of hallowed thought.
+This seems to me wholly unlike Hugh. He was far more likely to have been
+considering how he could get away to something which interested him
+more.
+
+Hugh's was really a very fresh and sparkling nature, never insipid,
+intent from morning to night on a vital enjoyment of life in all its
+aspects. I do not mean that he was always wanting to be amused--it was
+very far from that. Amusement was the spring of his social mood; but he
+had a passion too for silence and solitude. His devotions were eagerly
+and rapturously practised; then he turned to his work. "Writing seems to
+me now the only thing worth doing in the world," he says in one of his
+letters when he was deep in a book. Then he flung himself into gardening
+and handicraft, back again to his writings, or his correspondence, and
+again to his prayers.
+
+But it is impossible to select one of his moods, and to say that his
+true life lay there. His life lay in all of them. If work was tedious to
+him, he comforted himself with the thought that it would soon be done.
+He was an excellent man of affairs, never "slothful in business," but
+with great practical ability. He made careful bargains for his books,
+and looked after his financial interests tenaciously and diligently,
+with a definite purpose always in his mind. He lived, I am sure, always
+looking forward and anticipating. I do not believe he dwelt at all upon
+the past. It was life in which he was interested. As I walked with my
+mother about the beautiful garden, after his funeral, I said to her: "It
+seems almost too pathetic to be borne that Hugh should just have
+completed all this." "Yes," she said, "but I am sure we ought to think
+only that it meant to him seven years of very great happiness." That was
+perfectly true! If he had been called upon to leave Hare Street to take
+up some important work elsewhere, he would certainly not have dwelt on
+the pathetic side of it himself. He would have had a pang, as when he
+kissed the doorposts of his room at Mirfield on departing. But he would
+have gone forward, and he would have thought of it no more. He had a
+supreme power of casting things behind him, and he was far too intent on
+the present to have indulged in sentimental reveries of what had been.
+
+It is clear to me, from what the doctors said after his death, that if
+the pneumonia which supervened upon great exhaustion had been averted,
+he would have had to give up much of his work for a long time, and
+devote himself to rest and deliberate idleness. I cannot conceive how he
+would have borne it. He came once to be my companion for a few days,
+when I was suffering from a long period of depression and overwork. I
+could do nothing except answer a few letters. I could neither write nor
+read, and spent much of my time in the open air, and more in drowsing in
+misery over an unread book. Hugh, after observing me for a little,
+advised me to work quite deliberately, and to divide up my time among
+various occupations. It would have been useless to attempt it, for
+Nature was at work recuperating in her own way by an enforced
+listlessness and dreariness. But I have often since then thought how
+impossible it would have been for him to have endured such a condition.
+He had nothing passive about him; and I feel that he had every right to
+live his life on his own lines, to neglect warnings, to refuse advice. A
+man must find out his own method, and take the risks which it may
+involve. And though I would have done and given anything to have kept
+him with us, and though his loss is one which I feel daily and
+constantly, yet I would not have it otherwise. He put into his life an
+energy of activity and enjoyment such as I have rarely seen. He gave his
+best lavishly and ungrudgingly. Even the dreadful and tragical things
+which he had to face he took with a relish of adventure. He has told me
+of situations in which he found himself, from which he only saved
+himself by entire coolness and decisiveness, the retrospect of which he
+actually enjoyed. "It was truly awful!" he would say, with a shiver of
+pleasing horror. But it was all worked into a rich and glowing tapestry,
+which he wove with all his might, and the fineness of his life seems to
+me to consist in this, that he made his own choices, found out the
+channels in which his powers could best move, and let the stream gush
+forth. He did not shelter himself fastidiously, or creep away out of the
+glare and noise. He took up the staff and scrip of pilgrimage, and,
+while he kept his eyes on the Celestial City, he enjoyed every inch of
+the way, as well the assaults and shadows and the toils as the houses of
+kindly entertainment, with all their curious contents, the talk of
+fellow-pilgrims, the arbours of refreshment, until his feet touched the
+brink of the river, and even there he went fearlessly forward.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+RETROSPECT
+
+
+Now that I have traced the progress of Hugh's outer life from step to
+step, I will try to indicate what in the region of mind and soul his
+progress was, and I would wish to do this with particular care, even it
+the risk of repeating myself somewhat, because I believe that his nature
+was one that changed in certain ways very much; it widened and deepened
+greatly, and most of all in the seven last years of his life, when I
+believe that he found himself in the best and truest sense.
+
+As a boy, up to the age of eighteen or nineteen, it was, I believe, a
+vivid and unreflective nature, much absorbed in the little pattern of
+life as he saw it, neither expansive nor fed upon secret visions. It was
+always a decided nature. He never, as a child, needed to be amused; he
+never said, "What shall I do? Tell me what to do!" He liked constant
+companionship, but he had always got little businesses of his own going
+on; he joined in games, and joined keenly in them, but if a public game
+was not to his taste, he made no secret that he was bored, and, if he
+was released, he went off on his own errands. I do not remember that he
+ever joined in a general game because of any sociable impulse merely,
+but because it amused him; and if he separated himself and went off, he
+had no resentment nor any pathetic feeling about being excluded.
+
+When he went on to school he lived a sociable but isolated life. His
+companions were companions rather than friends. He did not, I think,
+ever form a romantic and adoring friendship, such as are common enough
+with emotional boys. He did not give his heart away; he just took a
+vivid and animated interest in the gossip, the interplay, the factions
+and parties of his circle; but it was all rather a superficial life--he
+used to say that he had neither aims nor ambitions--he took very little
+interest in his work and not much interest in games. He just desired to
+escape censure, and he was not greedy of praise. There was nothing
+listless or dreamy about it all. If he neglected his work, it was
+because he found talk and laughter more interesting. No string ran
+through his days; they were just to be taken as they came, enjoyed,
+dismissed. But he never wanted to appear other than he was, or to be
+admired or deferred to. There was never any sense of pose about hint nor
+the smallest affectation. He was very indifferent as to what was thought
+of him, and not sensitive; but he held his own, and insisted on his
+rights, allowed no dictation, followed no lead. All the time, I suppose,
+he was gathering in impressions of the outsides of things--he did not
+dip beyond that: he was full of quite definite tastes, desires, and
+prejudices; and though he was interested in life, he was not
+particularly interested in what lay behind it. He was not in the least
+impressionable, in the sense that others influenced or diverted him
+from his own ideas.
+
+Neither had he any strong intellectual bent. The knowledge which he
+needed he acquired quickly and soon forgot it. I do not think he ever
+went deeply into things in those early days, or tried to perfect himself
+in any sort of knowledge. He was neither generous nor acquisitive; he
+was detached, and always rather apt to put his little possessions away
+and to forget about them. It was always the present he was concerned
+with; he did not deal with the past nor with the future.
+
+Then after what had been not so much a slumber of the spirit as a vivid
+living among immediate impressions, the artistic nature began to awake
+in him. Music, architecture, ceremony, began to make their appeal felt;
+and he then first recognised the beauty of literary style. But even so,
+he did not fling himself creatively into any of these things at first,
+even as an amateur; it was still the perception of effects that he was
+concerned with.
+
+It was then, during his first year at Cambridge, that the first
+promptings of a vocation made themselves felt towards the priesthood.
+But he was as yet wholly unaware of his powers of expression; and I am
+sure that his first leanings to the clerical life were a search for a
+quiet and secluded fortress, away from the world, in which he might
+pursue an undisturbed and ordered life of solemnity and delicate
+impressions of a sacred sort of beauty. His desire for community life
+was caused by his decided dislike of the world, of fuss and tedium and
+conventional occupations. He was never in the least degree a typical
+person. He had no wish to be distinguished, or to influence other minds
+or lives, or to gain honour or consideration. These things simply
+appeared to him as not worth striving for. What he desired was
+companionship of a sympathetic kind and the opportunity of living among
+the pursuits he liked best. He never wished to try experiments, and it
+was always with a spectacular interest that he regarded the world.
+
+His call was very real, and deeply felt, and he waited for a whole year
+to make sure of it; but he found full decision at last.
+
+Then came his first ministerial work at the Eton Mission; and this did
+not satisfy him; his strength emerged in the fact that he did not adopt
+or defer to the ideals he found about him: a weaker character would have
+embraced them half-heartedly, tried to smother its own convictions, and
+might have ended by habituating itself to a system. But Hugh was still,
+half unconsciously, perhaps, in search of his real life; he did not
+profess to be guided by anyone, nor did he ever suspend his own judgment
+as to the worth of what he was doing; a manly and robust philanthropy on
+Christian lines was not to his taste. His instinct was rather for the
+beautiful element in religion and in life, and for a mystical
+consecration of all to God. That did not seem to him to be recognised in
+the work which he was doing. If he had been less independent, he might
+have crushed it down, and come to view it as a private fancy. He might
+have said to himself that it was plain that many human spirits did not
+feel that more delicate appeal, and that his duty was to meet other
+natures on some common ground.
+
+It is by such sacrifices of personal bias that much of the original
+force of the world is spoiled and wasted. It may be a noble sacrifice,
+and it is often nobly made. But Hugh was not cast in that mould. His
+effectiveness was to lie in the fact that he could disregard many
+ordinary motives. He could frankly admire other methods of work, and yet
+be quite sure that his own powers did not lie in that direction. But
+though he was modest and not at all self-assertive, he never had the
+least submissiveness nor subservience; nor was he capable of making any
+pretences.
+
+Sometimes it seems to happen that men are punished for wilfulness of
+choice by missing great opportunities. A nature which cannot compromise
+anything, cannot ignore details, cannot work with others, is sometimes
+condemned to a fruitless isolation. But it would be wrong to disregard
+the fact that circumstances more than once came to Hugh's aid; I see
+very clearly how he was, so to speak, headed off, as by some Fatherly
+purpose, from wasting his life in ineffectual ways. Probably he might
+have worked on at the Eton Mission, might have lost heart and vigour,
+might never have discovered his real powers, if he had not been rescued.
+His illness at this juncture cut the knot for him; and then followed a
+time of travel in Egypt, in the Holy Land, which revived again his sense
+of beauty and width and proportion.
+
+And then followed his Kemsing curacy; I have a letter written to me from
+Kemsing in his first weeks there, in which he describes it as a paradise
+and says that, so far as he can see, it is exactly the life he most
+desires, and that he hopes to spend the rest of his days there.
+
+But now I feel that he took a very real step forward. The danger was
+that he would adopt a dilettante life. He had still not discovered his
+powers of expression, which developed late. He was only just beginning
+to preach with effect, and his literary power was practically
+undeveloped. He might have chosen to live a harmless, quiet,
+beauty-loving life, kindly and guileless, in a sort of religious
+�stheticism; though the vivid desire for movement and even excitement
+that characterised his later life would perhaps have in any case
+developed.
+
+But something stronger and sterner awoke in him. I believe that it was
+exactly because the cup, mixed to his taste, was handed to him that he
+was able to see that there was nothing that was invigorating about the
+potion. It was not the community life primarily which drew him to
+Mirfield; it was partly that his power of speech awoke, and more
+strongly still the idea of self-discipline.
+
+And so he went to Mirfield, and then all his powers came with a rush in
+that studious, sympathetic, and ascetic atmosphere. He was in his
+twenty-eighth year. He began by finding that he could preach with real
+force and power, and two years later, when he wrote _The Light
+Invisible_, he also discovered his gift of writing; while as a little
+recreation, he took up drawing, and produced a series of sketches, full
+of humour and delicacy, drawn with a fine pen and tinted with coloured
+chalk, which are at all events enough to show what he could have done in
+this direction.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+ATTAINMENT
+
+
+And then Hugh made the great change of his life, and, as a Catholic,
+found his dreams realized and his hopes fulfilled. He found, indeed, the
+life which moves and breathes inside of every faithful creed, the power
+which supplements weakness and represses distraction, the motive for
+glad sacrifice and happy obedience. I can say this thankfully enough,
+though in many ways I confess to being at the opposite pole of religious
+thought. He found relief from decision and rest from conflict. He found
+sympathy and confidence, a sense of corporate union, and above all a
+mystical and symbolical devotion embodied in a great and ancient
+tradition, which was visibly and audibly there with a movement like a
+great tide, instead of a scheme of worship which had, he thought, in
+the Anglican Church, to be eclectically constructed by a group or a
+circle. Every part of his nature was fed and satisfied; and then, too,
+he found in the Roman Catholic community in England that sort of eager
+freemasonry which comes of the desire to champion a cause that has won a
+place for itself, and influence and respect, but which is yet so much
+opposed to national tendencies as to quicken the sense of active
+endeavour and eager expectation.
+
+After his quiet period of study and thought in Rome and at Llandaff
+House, came the time when he was attached to the Roman Catholic Church
+in Cambridge; and this, though not congenial to him, gave him an insight
+into methods and conditions; and all the while his own forces and
+qualities were learning how to concentrate and express themselves. He
+learned to write, he learned to teach, to preach, to speak, to be his
+own natural self, with all his delicate and ingenuous charm, in the
+presence of a great audience; so that when at last his opportunity came
+to free himself from official and formal work, he was able to throw all
+his trained faculties into the work which he had at heart. Moreover, he
+found in direction and confession, and in careful discussion with
+inquirers, and in sympathetic aid given to those in trouble, many of the
+secret sorrows, hopes, and emotions of the human heart, so that his
+public work was enforced and sustained by his ever-increasing range of
+private experience.
+
+He never, however, took whole-heartedly to pastoral work. He said
+frankly that he "specialised" in the region of private direction and
+advice; but I doubt if he ever did quite enough general pastoral work of
+a commonplace and humdrum kind to supplement and fill out his experience
+of human nature. He never knew people under quite normal conditions,
+because he felt no interest in normal conditions. He knew men and women
+best under the more abnormal emotion of the confessional; and though he
+used to maintain, if challenged, that penitence was a normal condition,
+yet his judgment of human beings was, as a consequence, several times
+gravely at fault. He made some unwise friendships, with a guileless
+curiosity, and was obliged, more than once, to extricate himself by
+summary abandonments.
+
+He wrote of himself once, "I am tired to death of giving myself away,
+and finding out too late.... I don't like my tendency to agree with
+people wildly; my continual fault has been to put on too much fuel."
+Like all sensitive people, who desire sympathetic and friendly
+relations, he was apt to discover the best of new acquaintances at once,
+and to evoke in them a similarly genial response. It was not till later,
+when the first conciliatory impulse had died down, that he discovered
+the faults that had been instinctively concealed, and indeed repressed
+by his own personal attractiveness.
+
+He had, too, an excessive confidence in his power of managing a critical
+situation, and several times undertook to reform people in whom
+corruption had gone too far for remedy. He believed in his power of
+"breaking" sinners by stern declarations; but he had more than once to
+confess himself beaten, though he never wasted time in deploring
+failures.
+
+Mr. Meynell, in his subtle essay which prefaces my brother's little book
+of poems, speaks of the complete subjugation of his will. If I may
+venture to express a different view, I do not feel that Hugh ever
+learned to efface his own will. I do not think his temperament, was made
+on the lines of self-conquest. I should rather say that he had found the
+exact _milieu_ in which he could use his will to the best effect, so
+that it was like the charge of powder within the gun, no longer
+exploding itself vaguely and aimlessly, but all concentrated upon one
+intense and emissive effort. Because the one characteristic of the last
+years of his life was his immense enjoyment of it all. He wrote to a
+friend not long before the end, when he was feeling the strain upon him
+to be heavier than he could bear; after a word or two about the war--he
+had volunteered to go to the front as a chaplain--he said, "So I am
+staying here as usual; but the incessant demands on my time try me as
+much as shrapnel and bullets." That sentence seems to me to confirm my
+view that he had not so much sacrificed as devoted himself. He never
+gained a serene patience; I have heard him over and over again speak
+with a sigh of his correspondence and the demands it made on him; yet he
+was always faithful to a relation once formed; and the number of letters
+written to single correspondents, which have been sent me, have fairly
+amazed me by their range, their freshness, and their fulness. He was
+deeply interested in many of the letters he received, and gave his best
+in his prompt replies; but he evidently also received an immense number
+of letters from people who did not desire guidance so much as sympathy
+and communication. The inconsiderate egotism of unimaginative and yet
+sensitive people is what creates the burden of such a correspondence;
+and though he answered his letters faithfully and duly, and contrived
+to say much in short space, yet he felt, as I have heard him say, that
+people were merciless; and much of the time he might have devoted to
+creative work, or even to recreation, was consumed in fruitless toil of
+hand and mind. And yet I am sure that he valued the sense that he could
+be useful and serviceable, and that there were many who depended upon
+him for advice and consolation. I believe that his widespread relations
+with so many desirous people gave him a real sense of the fulness and
+richness of life; and its relations. But for all that, I also believe
+that his courtesy and his sense of duty were even more potent in these
+relations than the need of personal affection. I do not mean that there
+was any hardness or coldness about him; but he valued sympathy and
+tranquil friendship more than he pursued intimacy and passionate
+devotion. Yet in the last year or two of his life, I was both struck and
+touched by his evident desire to knit up friendships which had been
+severed, and to renew intercourse which had been suspended by his change
+of belief. Whether he had any feeling that his life was precarious, or
+his own time short, I do not know. He never said as much to me. He had,
+of course, used hard words of the Church which he had left, and had said
+things which were not wholly impersonal. But, combative though he was,
+he had no touch of rancour or malice in his nature, and he visibly
+rejoiced in any sign of goodwill.
+
+Yet even so, he was essentially solitary in mind. "When I am alone," he
+once wrote, "I am at my best; and at my worst in company. I am happy and
+capable in loneliness; unhappy, distracted, and ineffective in company."
+And again he wrote, "I am becoming more and more afraid of meeting
+people I want to meet, because my numerous deficiencies are so very
+apparent. For example, I stammer slightly always and badly at times."
+
+This was, I believe, more an instinctive shrinking from the expenditure
+of nervous force than anything else, and arose from the feeling that, if
+he had to meet strangers, some brilliancy of contribution would be
+expected of him. I remember how he delighted in the story of Marie
+Bashkirtseff, who, when she was summoned to meet a party of strangers
+who desired to see her, prayed as she entered the room, "Oh God, make me
+worth seeing!" Hugh disliked the possibility of disappointing
+expectations, and thus found the society of unfamiliar people a strain;
+but in family life, and with people whom he knew well, he was always the
+most delightful and charming of companions, quick, ready, and untiring
+in talk. And therefore I imagine that, like all artistic people, he
+found that the pursuit of some chosen train of thought was less of a
+conscious effort to him than the necessity of adapting himself, swiftly
+and dexterously, to new people, whose mental and spiritual atmosphere he
+was obliged to observe and infer. It was all really a sign of the high
+pressure at which he lived, and of the price he paid for his vividness
+and animation.
+
+Another source of happiness to him in these last days was his sense of
+power. This was a part of his artistic nature; and I believe that he
+enjoyed to the full the feeling of being able to give people what they
+wanted, to enchant, interest, move, and sway them. This is to some
+natures a great temptation, because they come to desire applause, and to
+hunger for tangible signs of their influence. But Hugh was marvellously
+saved from this, partly by a real modesty which was not only never
+marred, but which I used to think increased with the years. There is a
+story of William Morris, that he could read aloud his own poetry, and at
+the end of a fine stanza would say: "That's jolly!" with an entire
+freedom from conceit, just as dispassionately as he could praise the
+work of another. I used to feel that when Hugh mentioned, as I have
+heard him do, some course of sermons that he was giving, and described
+the queue which formed in the street, and the aisles and gangways
+crowded with people standing to hear him, that he did so more
+impersonally than anyone I had ever heard, as though it were a
+delightful adventure, and more a piece of good luck than a testimony to
+his own powers.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1912. AGED 40]
+
+It was the same with his books; he wished them to succeed and enjoyed
+their success, while it was an infinite delight to him to write them.
+But he had no egotism of a commonplace sort about him, and he never
+consciously tried to succeed. Success was just the reverberating echo of
+his own delight.
+
+And thus I do not look upon him as one who had bent and curbed his
+nature by stern self-discipline to do work of a heavy and distasteful
+kind; nor do I think that his dangerous devotion to work was the fierce
+effort of a man who would have wished to rest, yet felt that the time
+was too short for all that he desired to do. I think it was rather the
+far more fruitful energy of one who exulted in expressing himself, in
+giving a brilliant and attractive shape to his ideas, and who loved,
+too, the varieties and tendencies of human nature, enjoyed moulding and
+directing them, and flung himself with an intense joy of creation into
+all the work which he found ready to his hand.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+TEMPERAMENT
+
+
+Hugh never seemed to me to treat life in the spirit of a mystic or a
+dreamer, with unshared and secret experiences, withdrawing into his own
+ecstasy, half afraid of life, rapt away into interior visions. Though he
+had a deep curiosity about mystical experiences, he was never a mystic
+in the sense that he had, as great mystics seem to have had, one shell
+less, so to speak, between him and the unseen. He lived in the visible
+and tangible world, loving beautiful secrets; and he was a mystic only
+in the sense that he had an hourly and daily sense of the presence of
+God. He wished to share his dreams and to make known his visions, to
+declare the glory of God and to show His handiwork. He found the world
+more and more interesting, as he came to know it, and in the light of
+the warm welcome it gave him. He had a keen and delicate apprehension of
+spiritual beauty, and the Mass became to him a consummation of all that
+he held most holy and dear. He had recognised a mystical presence in the
+Church of England, but he found a supernatural presence in the Church of
+Rome; yet he had, too, the instinct of the poet, to translate into form
+and substance his inmost and sweetest joy, and to lavish it upon others.
+No one dares to speak of great poets and seers as men who have profaned
+a mystery by making it known. The deeper that the poet's sense of beauty
+is, the more does he thirst to communicate it. It is far too divine and
+tremendous to be secretly and selfishly enjoyed.
+
+It is possible, of course, that Hugh may have given to those who did not
+see him constantly in everyday familiar intercourse, the sense of a
+courteous patience and a desire to do full justice to a claim. Still
+more may he have given this impression on social occasions and at
+conventional gatherings. Interviews and so-called festivities were apt
+to be a weariness to him, because they seemed so great an expenditure of
+time and force for very scanty results; but I always felt him to be one
+of the most naturally courteous people I have ever seen. He hated to be
+abrupt, to repel, to hurt, to wound feelings, to disappoint; yet on such
+occasions his natural courtesy was struggling with a sense of the waste
+of time involved and the interruptions caused. I remember his writing to
+me from the Catholic rectory when he was trying to finish a book and to
+prepare for a course of sermons, and lamenting that he was "driven
+almost mad" by ceaseless interviews with people who did not, he
+declared, want criticism or advice, but simply the luxury of telling a
+long story for the sake of possible adulation. "I am quite ready to see
+people," he added, "if only they would ask me to appoint a time, instead
+of simply flinging themselves upon me whenever it happens to be
+convenient to them."
+
+I do not think he ever grudged the time to people in difficulties when
+he felt he could really help and save. That seemed to him an opportunity
+of using all his powers; and when he took a soul in hand, he could
+display a certain sternness, and even ruthlessness, in dealing with it.
+"You need not consult me at all, but if you do you must carry out
+exactly what I tell you," he could say; but he did grudge time and
+attention given to mild sentimentalists, who were not making any way,
+but simply dallying with tragic emotions excitedly and vainly.
+
+This courtesy was part of a larger quality, a certain knightly and
+chivalrous sense, which is best summed up in the old word "gentleman." A
+priest told me that soon after Hugh's death he had to rebuke a tipsy
+Irishman, who was an ardent Catholic and greatly devoted to Hugh. The
+priest said, "Are you not ashamed to think that Monsignor's eye may be
+on you now, and that he may see how you disgrace yourself?" To which,
+he said, the Irishman replied, with perhaps a keener insight into Hugh's
+character than his director, "Oh no, I can trust Monsignor not to take
+advantage of me. I am sure that he will not come prying and spying
+about. He always believed whatever I chose to tell him, God bless him!"
+Hugh could be hard and unyielding on occasions, but he was wholly
+incapable of being suspicious, jealous, malicious, or spiteful. He made
+friends once with a man of morbid, irritable, and resentful tendencies,
+who had continued, all his life, to make friends by his brilliance and
+to lose them by his sharp, fierce, and contemptuous animosities. This
+man eventually broke with him altogether, and did his best by a series
+of ingenious and wicked letters to damage Hugh's character in all
+directions. I received one of those documents and showed it to Hugh. I
+was astonished at his courage and even indifference. I myself should
+have been anxious and despondent at the thought of such evil innuendoes
+and gross misrepresentations being circulated, and still more at the
+sort of malignant hatred from which they proceeded. Hugh took the letter
+and smiled. "Oh," he said, "I have put my case before the people who
+matter, and you can't do anything. He is certainly mad, or on the verge
+of madness. Don't answer it--you will only be drenched with these
+communications. I don't trouble my head about it." "But don't you mind?"
+I said. "No," he said, "I'm quite callous! Of course I am sorry that he
+should be such a beast, but I can't help that. I have done my best to
+make it up--but it is hopeless." And it was clear from the way he
+changed the subject that he had banished the whole matter from his mind.
+At a later date, when the letters to him grew more abusive, I was told
+by one who was living with him, that he would even put one up on his
+chimney-piece and point it out to visitors.
+
+I always thought that he had a very conspicuous and high sort of
+courage, not only in facing disagreeable and painful things, but in not
+dwelling on them either before or after. This was never more entirely
+exemplified than by the way he faced his operation, and indeed, most
+heroically of all, in the way in which he died. There was a sense of
+great adventure--there is no other word for it--about that, as of a man
+going on a fateful voyage; a courage so great that he did not even lose
+his interest in the last experiences of life. His demeanour was not
+subdued or submissive; he did not seem to be asking for strength to bear
+or courage to face the last change. He was more like the happy warrior
+
+                                   "Attired
+    With sudden brightness, as a man inspired."
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1912. AGED 41]
+
+He did not lose control of himself, nor was he carried helplessly down
+the stream. He was rather engaged in a conflict which was not a losing
+one. He had often thought of death, and even thought that he feared it;
+but now that it was upon him he would taste it fully, he would see what
+it was like. The day before, when he thought that he might live, there
+was a pre-occupation over him, as though he were revolving the things he
+desired to do; but when death came upon him unmistakably there was no
+touch of self-pity or impressiveness. He had just to die, and he devoted
+his swift energies to it, as he had done to living. I never saw him so
+splendid and noble as he was at that last awful moment. Life did not ebb
+away, but he seemed to fling it from him, so that it was not as the
+death of a weary man sinking to rest, but like the eager transit of a
+soldier to another part of the field.
+
+"Could it have been avoided?" I said to the kind and gentle doctor who
+saw Hugh through the last days of his life, and loved him very tenderly
+and faithfully. "Well, in one sense, 'yes,'" he replied. "If he had
+worked less, rested more, taken things more easily, he might have lived
+longer. He had a great vitality; but most people die of being
+themselves; and we must all live as we are made to live. It was
+Monsignor's way to put the work of a month into a week; he could not do
+otherwise--I cannot think of Monsignor as sitting with folded hands."
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+Barnes, Monsignor, 154
+
+Bashkirtseff, Marie, quoted, 249
+
+Bec, Bishop Anthony, 18
+
+Belloc, Mr., 183
+
+Benson, Archbishop (father), 15-17, 20, 46-47, 56, 63, 82, 86, 91, 116;
+  characteristics, 34-39;
+  letters quoted, 53-55, 71-74;
+  ordains his son, 87;
+  death, 97
+
+---- Mrs. (mother), 19, 28, 74-80, 108, 120, 128, 146, 149-150, 182, 209;
+  quoted, 31-32, 118-119, 227;
+  visit to Egypt, 98
+
+---- Fred (brother), 16, 26-27, 34, 68, 80, 184, 209
+
+---- Maggie (sister), 16, 28, 40, 98, 120, 126, 184, 196, 217
+
+---- Martin (brother), 16, 57;
+  death, 35
+
+---- Nelly (sister), 16, 27, 40;
+  death, 79-80
+
+Beth (nurse), 20-24, 39, 106;
+  letter quoted, 23
+
+Bradley, Dr., 200, 201;
+  quoted, 260-261
+
+_By What Authority_, 114
+
+
+Carlyle, Thomas, quoted, 147
+
+Carter, Archbishop William, 91
+
+_Confessions of a Convert, The_, 47, 114, 130, 140
+
+_Conventionalists, The_, 186
+
+Cornish, Mr., 42
+
+_Coward, The_, 181
+
+
+Decemviri _Club_, 156
+
+Donaldson, Archbishop St. Clair, 91, 95
+
+
+Edward VII; King, 114
+
+Elizabeth, Queen, 179
+
+Eton, influence of, 48-51
+
+---- Mission, 89 seq., 99, 134-136, 236, 238
+
+
+George V, H. M. King, 98
+
+Gladstone, W. E., 98
+
+---- Mrs., 98
+
+Gore, Bishop, 103, 108-109, 130
+
+Gorman, Father, 194
+
+
+Halifax, Lord, 128
+
+Hare Street, 168 seq., 189, 193, 210, 227;
+  village, 12
+
+_Hill of Trouble, The_, 177
+
+Hogg, Sir James McGarel (afterwards Lord Magheramorne), 32
+
+Hormead Mission, 168
+
+Hornby, Provost, 149
+
+House of the Resurrection. _See_ under Mirfield Community
+
+
+Job, quoted, 49
+
+John Inglesant, 75, 85
+
+Johnson, Dr., quoted, 150, 175
+
+Jowett, B., 150
+
+
+Kenmare, Lord, 172
+
+
+Leith, Dr., 67
+
+_Light Invisible, The_, 106, 177, 187, 240
+
+Lindsay, Ken, 168-169
+
+Lyttelton, Edward, 44
+
+
+Maclagan, Archbishop, 103
+
+Marshall (family), 190
+
+Martin, Sir George, 58
+
+Mason, Canon Arthur, 34, 80, 88
+
+Maturin, Father, 96, 100
+
+Meynell, Mr., 245
+
+Mirfield Community, 103-104, 130, 137, 227, 239
+
+Morris, William, 250
+
+Murray, Prof., 199
+
+
+Norway, King of, 98
+
+
+Parsons, Rev. Mr., 16
+
+Peel, Sidney, 50
+
+Penny, Mr., 19
+
+Persia, Shah of, 55
+
+Pippet, Gabriel, 13, 168
+
+Pitt Club, 156
+
+Potter, Norman, 171
+
+
+Reeman, Joseph, 14, 193
+
+Reeve, Rev. John, 34, 128
+
+_Richard Raynal, Solitary_, 178, 181, 185, 187
+
+Ritual, 60-63
+
+Roddy, _collie_, 126-128, 217
+
+
+St. Hugh, 17
+
+---- Monastery of, 129
+
+Salford Cathedral, 209
+
+Scott, Canon, 161
+
+Selborne, Lord, quoted, 54
+
+Sessions, Dr., 168
+
+Sharrock, Canon, 173, 196, 199, 205, 207
+
+Sidgwick, Arthur, 20
+
+---- Henry (uncle), 20, 71, 73, 223
+
+---- Mrs. (grandmother), 20
+
+---- Nora (Mrs. Henry Sidgwick) (aunt), 73, 121
+
+---- William (uncle), 20
+
+Skarratt, Rev. Mr., 101
+
+Spiers, Mr., 54-55
+
+Stanmore, Lord, 95
+
+Stevenson, R. L., 121
+
+_Streets and Lanes of the City_, 79
+
+
+Tait, Miss Lucy, 120
+
+Temple, Archbishop, 103
+
+Tennyson's "Mort d'Arthur," 179
+
+Todd, Dr., Ross, 193
+
+Tyrell, Father, 144
+
+
+Vaughn, Dean, 81-84
+
+Vaughn, Mrs., 83-85
+
+Victoria, Queen, 114, 153
+
+
+Wales, Prince and Princess of, 54
+
+Walpole, Bishop G. H. S., 34
+
+Warre, Dr., 46
+
+Watson, Bishop, 154
+
+Watt, Father, 168
+
+Wellington College, 15, 19, 20
+
+Westcott, Bishop, 86
+
+Westminster, Cardinal Archbishop of, 209
+
+Whitaker, Canon G. H., 34
+
+Wilkinson, Bishop, 48, 128, 150
+
+Woodchester Dominican Convent, 146
+
+Wordsworth, Bishop John, 128
+
+Wren, Mr., 52
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUGH***
+
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hugh, by Arthur Christopher Benson</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hugh, by Arthur Christopher Benson</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Hugh</p>
+<p>       Memoirs of a Brother</p>
+<p>Author: Arthur Christopher Benson</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 17, 2006  [eBook #18615]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUGH***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Stacy Brown, Geoff Horton,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>But there is more than I can see,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>And what I see I leave unsaid,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Nor speak it, knowing Death has made</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>His darkness beautiful with thee.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<h1>HUGH</h1>
+
+<h2>MEMOIRS OF A BROTHER</h2>
+
+<h3 class="padtop">BY<br />
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON</h3>
+
+<h4 class="padtop">FIFTH IMPRESSION</h4>
+
+<h3 class="padtop">LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.<br />
+FOURTH AVENUE &amp; 30TH STREET, NEW YORK<br />
+1916</h3>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="400" height="581" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>From Copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1912. AGED 40</span><br />
+<span class="caption">In the robes of a Papal Chamberlain.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>This book was begun with no hope or intention of making a formal and
+finished biography, but only to place on record some of my brother's
+sayings and doings, to fix scenes and memories before they suffered from
+any dim obliteration of time, to catch, if I could, for my own comfort
+and delight, the tone and sense of that vivid and animated atmosphere
+which Hugh always created about him. His arrival upon any scene was
+never in the smallest degree uproarious, and still less was it in the
+least mild or serene; yet he came into a settled circle like a freshet
+of tumbling water into a still pool!</p>
+
+<p>I knew all along that I could not attempt any account of what may be
+called his public life, which all happened since he became a Roman
+Catholic. He passed through many circles&mdash;in England, in Rome, in
+America&mdash;of which I knew nothing. I never heard him make a public
+speech, and I only once heard him preach since he ceased to be an
+Anglican. This was not because I thought he would convert me, nor
+because I shrank from hearing him preach a doctrine to which I did not
+adhere, nor for any sectarian reason. Indeed, I regret not having heard
+him preach and speak oftener; it would have interested me, and it would
+have been kinder and more brotherly; but one is apt not to do the things
+which one thinks one can always do, and the fact that I did not hear him
+was due to a mixture of shyness and laziness, which I now regret in
+vain.</p>
+
+<p>But I think that his life as a Roman Catholic ought to be written fully
+and carefully, because there were many people who trusted and admired
+and loved him as a priest who would wish to have some record of his
+days. He left me, by a will, which we are carrying out, though it was
+not duly executed, all his letters, papers, and manuscripts, and we
+have arranged to have an official biography of him written, and have
+placed all his papers in the hands of a Catholic biographer, Father C.
+C. Martindale, S.J.</p>
+
+<p>Since Hugh died I have read a good many notices of him, which have
+appeared mostly in Roman Catholic organs. These were, as a rule, written
+by people who had only known him as a Catholic, and gave an obviously
+incomplete view of his character and temperament. It could not well have
+been otherwise, but the result was that only one side of a very varied
+and full life was presented. He was depicted in a particular office and
+in a specific mood. This was certainly his most real and eager mood, and
+deserves to be emphasized. But he had other moods and other sides, and
+his life before he became a Catholic had a charm and vigour of its own.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, his family affection was very strong; when he became a
+Catholic, we all of us felt, including himself, that there might be a
+certain separation, not of affection, but of occupations and interests;
+and he himself took very great care to avoid this, with the happy result
+that we saw him, I truly believe, more often and more intimately than
+ever before. Indeed, my own close companionship with him really began
+when he came first as a Roman Catholic to Cambridge.</p>
+
+<p>And so I have thought it well to draw in broad strokes and simple
+outlines a picture of his personality as we, his family, knew and loved
+it. It is only a <i>study</i>, so to speak, and is written very informally
+and directly. Formal biographies, as I know from experience, must
+emphasise a different aspect. They deal, as they are bound to do, with
+public work and official activities; and the personal atmosphere often
+vanishes in the process&mdash;that subtle essence of quality, the effect of a
+man's talk and habits and prejudices and predispositions, which comes
+out freely in private life, and is even suspended in his public
+ministrations. It would be impossible, I believe, to make a presentment
+of Hugh which could be either dull or conventional. But, on the other
+hand, his life as a priest, a writer, a teacher, a controversialist, was
+to a certain extent governed and conditioned by circumstances; and I can
+see, from many accounts of him, that the more intimate and unrestrained
+side of him can only be partially discerned by those who knew him merely
+in an official capacity.</p>
+
+<p>That, then, is the history of this brief Memoir. It is just an attempt
+to show Hugh as he showed himself, freely and unaffectedly, to his own
+circle; and I am sure that this deserves to be told, for the one
+characteristic which emerges whenever I think of him is that of a
+beautiful charm, not without a touch of wilfulness and even petulance
+about it, which gave him a childlike freshness, a sparkling zest, that
+aerated and enlivened all that he did or said. It was a charm which made
+itself instantly felt, and yet it could be hardly imitated or adopted,
+because it was so entirely unconscious and unaffected. He enjoyed
+enacting his part, and he was as instinctively and whole-heartedly a
+priest as another man is a soldier or a lawyer. But his function did not
+wholly occupy and dominate his life; and, true priest though he was, the
+force and energy of his priesthood came at least in part from the fact
+that he was entirely and delightfully human, and I deeply desire that
+this should not be overlooked or forgotten.</p>
+
+<p class="right">A. C. B.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 2em;">Tremans, Horsted Keynes</span>,</p>
+
+<p style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>December</i> 26, 1914.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<table style="margin-left: 16%; margin-right: 20%;" class="center" summary="toc" cellpadding="3"><tbody>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">I</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">HARE STREET</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Garden&mdash;House&mdash;Rooms&mdash;Tapestry&mdash;Hare
+Street Discovered&mdash;A Hidden Treasure</td>                      <td class="tr" style="width: 10%;"><a href="#Page_1">1-14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">II</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">CHILDHOOD</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Birth&mdash;The Chancery&mdash;Beth</td>                                <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_15">15-24</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">III</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">TRURO</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Lessons&mdash;Early Verses&mdash;Physical Sensitiveness&mdash;A
+Secret Society&mdash;My Father&mdash;A Puppet-Show</td>                 <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_25">25-41</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">IV</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">BOYHOOD</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">First Schooldays&mdash;Eton&mdash;Religious Impressions&mdash;A
+Colleger </td>                                                <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_42">42-51</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">V</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">AT WREN'S</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Sunday Work&mdash;Artistic
+Temperament&mdash;Liturgy&mdash;Ritual&mdash;Artistic Nature</td>            <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_52">52-65</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">VI</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">CAMBRIDGE</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Mountain&mdash;climbing&mdash;Genealogy&mdash;Economy&mdash;Hypnotism&mdash;The
+Call&mdash;My Mother&mdash;Nelly</td>                                   <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_66">66-81</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">VII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">LLANDAFF</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Dean Vaughan&mdash;Community Life&mdash;Ordained Deacon</td>            <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_82">82-88</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">VIII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">THE ETON MISSION</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Hackney Wick&mdash;Boys' Clubs&mdash;Preaching&mdash;My
+Father's Death </td>                                          <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_89">89-99</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">IX</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">KEMSING AND MIRFIELD</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Development&mdash;Mirfield&mdash;The
+Community&mdash;Sermons&mdash;Preaching</td>                          <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_100">100-113</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">X</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">THE CHANGE</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Leaving Mirfield&mdash;Considerations&mdash;Argument&mdash;Discussion&mdash;Roddy&mdash;Consultation</td>
+          <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_114">114-129</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XI</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">THE DECISION</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Anglicanism&mdash;Individualism&mdash;Asceticism&mdash;A
+Centre of Unity&mdash;Liberty and Discipline&mdash;Catholicism&mdash;The Surrender&mdash;Reception&mdash;Rome</td>
+     <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_130">130-151</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">CAMBRIDGE AGAIN</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Llandaff House&mdash;Our Companionship&mdash;Rudeness&mdash;The
+Catholic Rectory&mdash;Spiritual Direction&mdash;
+Mystery-Plays&mdash;Retirement</td>                             <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_152">152-167</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XIII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">HARE STREET</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Ken&mdash;Engagements&mdash;Christmas&mdash;Visits</td>                   <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_168">168-175</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XIV</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">AUTHORSHIP</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">The Light Invisible&mdash;His Books&mdash;Methods of
+Writing&mdash;Love of Writing&mdash;The Novels</td>                  <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_176">176-187</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XV</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">FAILING HEALTH</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Illness&mdash;Medical advice&mdash;Pneumonia</td>                    <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_188">188-195</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XVI</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">THE END</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Manchester&mdash;Last Illness&mdash;Last Hours&mdash;Anxiety&mdash;Last
+Words&mdash;Passing on</td>                                     <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_196">196-208</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XVII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">BURIAL</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">His Papers&mdash;After-Thoughts&mdash;The Bond of Love</td>          <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_209">209-215</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XVIII</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Courage&mdash;Humour&mdash;Manliness&mdash;Stammering&mdash;Eagerness&mdash;Independence&mdash;Forward</td>
+                      <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_216">216-230</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XIX</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">RETROSPECT</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Boyhood&mdash;Vocation&mdash;Independence&mdash;Self-Discipline</td>      <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_231">231-240</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XX</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">ATTAINMENT</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Priesthood&mdash;Self-Devotion&mdash;Sympathy&mdash;Power&mdash;Energy</td>    <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_241">241-252</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td colspan="2" class="center th">XXI</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center">TEMPERAMENT</td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">Courtesy&mdash;Chivalry&mdash;Fearlessness&mdash;Himself</td>             <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_253">253-261</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td class="tl"><span class="smcap">Index</span></td>                      <td class="tr"><a href="#Page_263">263-265</a></td>
+</tr>
+</tbody></table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<table summary="illos" class="center" style="margin-left: 21%; margin-right: 21%;"><tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="tl"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in</span> 1912, <span class="smcap">aged</span> 40.
+In the Robes of a Papal Chamberlain</td>           <td class="tr" style="width: 15%;"><a href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+  <tr>
+<td colspan="2" class="center"><i>From copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York.</i></td>
+</tr><tr>
+
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Hare Street House</span></td>                     <td class="tr"><i>Facing page</i></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">From the front, 1914</td>                                         <td class="tr"><a href="#i_2">2</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl">From the garden, 1914</td>                                        <td class="tr"><a href="#i_4">4</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">The Master's Lodge, Wellington College</span>, 1868</td>       <td class="tr"><a href="#i_16">16</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson and Beth at the Chancery,
+Lincoln, in 1876, aged</span> 5</td>                               <td class="tr"><a href="#i_20">20</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">The Three Brothers</span>, 1882</td>                           <td class="tr"><a href="#i_44">44</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1889, aged</span> 17. As
+Steerer of the <i>St. George</i>, at Eton</td>                   <td class="tr"><a href="#i_48">48</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1893, aged</span> 21. As an
+Undergraduate at Cambridge</td>                                  <td class="tr"><a href="#i_68">68</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Benson</span></td>                                        <td class="tr"><a href="#i_76">76</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1907, aged</span> 35</td>               <td class="tr"><a href="#i_158">158</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">At Hare Street</span>, 1909</td>                              <td class="tr"><a href="#i_168">168</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Hare Street, in the Garden, July</span> 1911</td>             <td class="tr"><a href="#i_174">174</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1910, aged</span> 39</td>               <td class="tr"><a href="#i_184">184</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">At Tremans, Horsted Keynes, December</span>, 1913</td>        <td class="tr"><a href="#i_188">188</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Bishop's House, Salford</span></td>                           <td class="tr"><a href="#i_200">200</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">The Calvary at Hare Street</span>, 1913</td>                  <td class="tr"><a href="#i_208">208</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged</span> 40</td>               <td class="tr"><a href="#i_250">250</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td class="tl th"><span class="smcap">Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged</span> 41</td>               <td class="tr"><a href="#i_258">258</a></td>
+</tr></tbody></table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<div style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;"><p>"Then said <i>Great-heart</i> to Mr. <i>Valiant-for-Truth</i>, Thou hast
+worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it
+him. When he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while,
+he said, <i>Ha, it is a right Jerusalem Blade!</i>"</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>The Pilgrim's Progress.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HUGH" id="HUGH"></a>HUGH</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
+
+<h3>HARE STREET</h3>
+
+<p>How loudly and boisterously the wind roared to-day across the low-hung,
+cloud-smeared sky, driving the broken rack before it, warm and wet out
+of the south! What a wintry landscape! leafless trees bending beneath
+the onset of the wind, bare and streaming hedges, pale close-reaped
+wheat-fields, brown ploughland, spare pastures stretching away to left
+and right, softly rising and falling to the horizon; nothing visible but
+distant belts of trees and coverts, with here and there the tower of a
+hidden church overtopping them, and a windmill or two; on the left, long
+lines of willows marking the course of a stream. The road soaked with
+rain, the grasses heavy with it, hardly a human being to be seen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I came at last to a village straggling along each side of the road; to
+the right, a fantastic-looking white villa, with many bow-windows, and
+an orchard behind it. Then on the left, a great row of beeches on the
+edge of a pasture; and then, over the barns and ricks of a farm, rose
+the clustered chimneys of an old house; and soon we drew up at a big
+iron gate between tall red-brick gateposts; beyond it a paling, with a
+row of high lime trees bordering a garden lawn, and on beyond that the
+irregular village street.</p>
+
+<p>From the gate a little flagged pathway leads up to the front of a long,
+low house, of mellow brick, with a solid cornice and parapet, over which
+the tiled roof is visible: a door in the centre, with two windows on
+each side and five windows above&mdash;just the sort of house that you find
+in a cathedral close. To the left of the iron gate are two other tall
+gateposts, with a road leading up to the side of the house, and a yard
+with a row of stables behind.</p>
+
+<p>Let me describe the garden first. All<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> along the front and south side of
+the house runs a flagged pathway, a low brick wall dividing it from the
+lawn, with plants in rough red pots on little pilasters at intervals. To
+the right, as we face the door, the lawn runs along the road, and
+stretches back into the garden. There are tall, lopped lime-trees all
+round the lawn, in the summer making a high screen of foliage, but now
+bare. If we take the flagged path round the house, turn the corner, and
+go towards the garden, the yew trees grow thick and close, forming an
+arched walk at the corner, half screening an old irregular building of
+woodwork and plaster, weather-boarded in places, with a tiled roof,
+connected with the house by a little covered cloister with wooden
+pillars. If we pass that by, pursuing the path among the yew trees, we
+come out on a pleasant orchard, with a few flower-beds, thickly
+encircled by shrubs, beyond which, towards the main road, lies a
+comfortable-looking old red-brick cottage, with a big barn and a long
+garden, which evi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>dently belongs to the larger house, because a gate in
+the paling stands open. Then there is another little tiled building
+behind the shrubs, where you can hear an engine at work, for electric
+light and water-pumping, and beyond that again, but still connected with
+the main house, stands another house among trees, of rough-cast and
+tiles, with an open wooden gallery, in a garden of its own.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_2" id="i_2"></a><img src="images/2.jpg" width="400" height="320" alt="HARE STREET HOUSE" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Bishop, Barkway</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">HARE STREET HOUSE</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">FROM THE FRONT 1914</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>In the orchard itself is a large grass-grown mound, with a rough wooden
+cross on the top; and down below that, in the orchard, is a newly-made
+grave, still covered, as I saw it to-day, with wreaths of leaves and
+moss, tied some of them with stained purple ribbons. The edge of the
+grave-mound is turfed, but the bare and trodden grass shows that many
+feet have crossed and recrossed the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The orchard is divided on the left from a further and larger garden by a
+dense growth of old hazels; and passing through an alley you see that a
+broad path runs concealed among the hazels, a pleasant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> shady walk in
+summer heat. Then the larger garden stretches in front of you; it is a
+big place, with rows of vegetables, fruit-trees, and flower-borders,
+screened to the east by a row of elms and dense shrubberies of laurel.
+Along the north runs a high red-brick wall, with a big old-fashioned
+vine-house in the centre, of careful design. In the corner nearest the
+house is a large rose-garden, with a brick pedestal in the centre,
+behind which rises the back of the stable, also of old red brick.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_4" id="i_4"></a><img src="images/4.jpg" width="400" height="304" alt="HARE STREET HOUSE" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Bishop, Barkway</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">HARE STREET HOUSE</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">FROM THE GARDEN 1914</span><br />
+<span class="caption">The timbered building on the left is the Chapel; in the foreground
+is the unfinished rose-garden.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>But now there is a surprise; the back of the house is much older than
+the front. You see that it is a venerable Tudor building, with pretty
+panels of plaster embossed with a rough pattern. The moulded brick
+chimney-stacks are Tudor too, while the high gables cluster and lean
+together with a picturesque outline. The back of the house forms a
+little court, with the cloister of which I spoke before running round
+two sides of it. Another great yew tree stands there: while a doorway
+going into the timber and plaster building which I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> mentioned before has
+a rough device on it of a papal tiara and keys, carved in low relief and
+silvered.</p>
+
+<p>A friendly black collie comes out of a kennel and desires a little
+attention. He licks my hand and looks at me with melting brown eyes, but
+has an air of expecting to see someone else as well. A black cat comes
+out of a door, runs beside us, and when picked up, clasps my shoulder
+contentedly and purrs in my ear.</p>
+
+<p>The house seen from the back looks exactly what it is, a little old
+family mansion of a line of small squires, who farmed their own land,
+and lived on their own produce, though the barns and rick-yard belong to
+the house no longer. The red-brick front is just an addition made for
+the sake of stateliness at some time of prosperity. It is a charming
+self-contained little place, with a forgotten family tradition of its
+own, a place which could twine itself about the heart, and be loved and
+remembered by children brought up there, when far away. There is no sign
+of wealth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> about it, but every sign of ease and comfort and simple
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Now we will go back to the front door and go through the house itself.
+The door opens into a tiny hall lighted by the glass panes of the door,
+and bright with pictures&mdash;oil paintings and engravings. The furniture
+old and sturdy, and a few curiosities about&mdash;carvings, weapons, horns of
+beasts. To the left a door opens into a pleasant dining-room, with two
+windows looking out in front, dark as dining-rooms may well be. It is
+hung with panels of green cloth, it has a big open Tudor fireplace, with
+a big oak settle, some china on an old dresser, a solid table and
+chairs, and a hatch in the corner through which dishes can be handed.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite, on the other side of the hall, a door opens into a long low
+library, with books all round in white shelves. There is a big grand
+piano here, a very solid narrow oak table with a chest below, a bureau,
+and some comfortable chintz-covered chairs with a deep sofa. A per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>fect
+room to read or to hear music in, with its two windows to the front, and
+a long window opening down to the ground at the south end. All the books
+here are catalogued, and each has its place. If you go out into the hall
+again and pass through, a staircase goes up into the house, the walls of
+it panelled, and hung with engravings; some of the panels are carved
+with holy emblems. At the foot of the stairs a door on the right takes
+you into a small sitting-room, with a huge stone fireplace; a big window
+looks south, past the dark yew trees, on to the lawn. There are little
+devices in the quarries of the window, and a deep window-seat. The room
+is hung with a curious tapestry, brightly coloured medi&aelig;val figures
+standing out from a dark background. There is not room for much
+furniture here; a square oak stand for books, a chair or two by the
+fire. Parallel to the wall, with a chair behind it filling up much of
+the space, is a long, solid old oak table, set out for writing. It is a
+perfect study for quiet work, warm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> in winter with its log fire, and
+cool in summer heat.</p>
+
+<p>To the left of the staircase a door goes into a roughly panelled
+ante-room which leads out on to the cloister, and beyond that a large
+stone-flagged kitchen, with offices beyond.</p>
+
+<p>If you go upstairs, you find a panelled corridor with bedrooms. The one
+over the study is small and dark, and said to be haunted. That over the
+library is a big pleasant room with a fine marble fireplace&mdash;a boudoir
+once, I should think. Over the hall is another dark panelled room with a
+four-post bed, the walls hung with a most singular and rather terrible
+tapestry, representing a dance of death.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond that, over the dining-room, is a beautiful panelled room, with a
+Tudor fireplace, and a bed enclosed by blue curtains. This was Hugh's
+own room. Out of it opens a tiny dressing-room. Beyond that is another
+large low room over the kitchen, which has been half-study,
+half-bedroom, out of which opens a little stair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>way going to some little
+rooms beyond over the offices.</p>
+
+<p>Above that again are some quaint white-washed attics with dormers and
+leaning walls; one or two of these are bedrooms. One, very large and
+long, runs along most of the front, and has a curious leaden channel in
+it a foot above the floor to take the rain-water off the leads of the
+roof. Out of another comes a sweet smell of stored apples, which revives
+the memory of childish visits to farm storerooms&mdash;and here stands a
+pretty and quaint old pipe-organ awaiting renovation.</p>
+
+<p>We must retrace our steps to the building at the back to which the
+cloister leads. We enter a little sacristy and vestry, and beyond is a
+dark chapel, with a side-chapel opening out of it. It was originally an
+old brew-house, with a timbered roof. The sanctuary is now divided off
+by a high open screen, of old oak, reaching nearly to the roof. The
+whole place is full of statues, carved and painted, embroidered
+hangings, stained glass, pendent lamps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> emblems; there is a gallery
+over the sacristy, with an organ, and a fine piece of old embroidery
+displayed on the gallery front.</p>
+
+<p>This is the house in which for seven years my brother Hugh lived. Let me
+recall how he first came to see it. He was at Cambridge then, working as
+an assistant priest. He became aware that his work lay rather in the
+direction of speaking, preaching, and writing, and resolved to establish
+himself in some quiet country retreat. One summer I visited several
+houses in Hertfordshire with him, but they proved unsuitable. One of
+these possessed an extraordinary attraction for him. It was in a bleak
+remote village, and it was a fine old house which had fallen from its
+high estate. It stood on the road and was used as a grocer's shop. It
+was much dilapidated, and there was little ground about it, but inside
+there were old frescoes and pictures, strange plaster friezes and
+moulded ceilings, which had once been brightly coloured. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> nothing
+would have made it a really attractive house, in spite of the curious
+beauty of its adornment.</p>
+
+<p>One day I was returning alone from an excursion, and passed by what we
+call accident through Hare Street, the village which I have described. I
+caught a glimpse of the house through the iron gates, and saw that there
+was a board up saying it was for sale. A few days later I went there
+with Hugh. It was all extremely desolate, but we found a friendly
+caretaker who led us round. The shrubberies had grown into dense
+plantations, the orchard was a tangled waste of grass, the garden was
+covered with weeds. I remember Hugh's exclamation of regret that we had
+visited the place. "It is <i>exactly</i> what I want," he said, "but it is
+<i>far</i> too expensive. I wish I had never set eyes on it!" However, he
+found that it had long been unlet, and that no one would buy it. He
+might have had the pasture-land and the farm-buildings as well, and he
+afterwards regretted that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> had not bought them, but his income from
+writing was still small. However, he offered what seems to me now an
+extraordinarily low sum for the house and garden; it was to his
+astonishment at once accepted. It was all going to ruin, and the owner
+was glad to get rid of it on any terms. He established himself there
+with great expedition, and set to work to renovate the place. At a later
+date he bought the adjacent cottage, and the paddock in which he built
+the other house, and he also purchased some outlying fields, one a
+charming spot on the road to Buntingford, with some fine old trees,
+where he had an idea of building a church.</p>
+
+<p>Everything in the little domain took shape under his skilful hand and
+ingenious brain. He made most of the tapestries in the house with his
+own fingers, working with his friend Mr. Gabriel Pippet the artist. He
+carved much of the panelling&mdash;he was extraordinarily clever with his
+hands. He painted many of the pictures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> which hang on the walls, he
+catalogued the library; he worked day after day in the garden, weeding,
+rowing, and planting. In all this he had the advantage of the skill,
+capacity, and invention of his factotum and friend, Mr. Joseph Reeman,
+who could turn his hand to anything and everything with equal energy and
+taste; and so the whole place grew and expanded in his hands, until
+there is hardly a detail, indoors or out-of-doors, which does not show
+some trace of his fancy and his touch.</p>
+
+<p>There were some strange old traditions about the house; it was said to
+be haunted, and more than one of his guests had inexplicable experiences
+there. It was also said that there was a hidden treasure concealed in or
+about it. That treasure Hugh certainly discovered, in the delight which
+he took in restoring, adorning, and laying it all out. It was a source
+of constant joy to him in his life. And there, in the midst of it all,
+his body lies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
+
+<h3>CHILDHOOD</h3>
+
+
+<p>I very well remember the sudden appearance of Hugh in the nursery world,
+and being conducted into a secluded dressing-room, adjacent to the
+nursery, where the tiny creature lay, lost in contented dreams, in a
+big, white-draped, white-hooded cradle. It was just a rather pleasing
+and exciting event to us children, not particularly wonderful or
+remarkable. It was at Wellington College that he was born, in the
+Master's Lodge, in a sunny bedroom, in the south-east corner of the
+house; one of its windows looking to the south front of the college and
+the chapel with its slender spire; the other window looking over the
+garden and a waste of heather beyond, to the fir-crowned hill of
+Ambarrow. My father had been Headmaster for twelve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> years and was
+nearing the end of his time there; and I was myself nine years old, and
+shortly to go to a private school, where my elder brother Martin already
+was. My two sisters, Nelly and Maggie, were respectively eight and six,
+and my brother, Fred, was four&mdash;six in all.</p>
+
+<p>And by a freak of memory I recollect, too, that at breakfast on the
+following morning my father&mdash;half-shyly, half-proudly, I
+thought&mdash;announced the fact of Hugh's birth to the boys whom he had
+asked in, as his custom was, to breakfast, and how they offered
+embarrassed congratulations, not being sure, I suppose, exactly what the
+right phrase was.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the christening, which took place at Sandhurst Church, a mile
+or two away, to which we walked by the pine-clad hill of Edgebarrow and
+the heathery moorland known as Cock-a-Dobbie. Mr. Parsons was the
+clergyman&mdash;a little handsome old man, like an abb&eacute;, with a clear-cut
+face and thick white hair. I am afraid that the ceremony had no
+religious sig<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>nificance for me at that time, but I was deeply
+interested, thought it rather cruel, and was shocked at Hugh's
+indecorous outcry. He was called Robert, an old family name, and Hugh,
+in honour of St. Hugh of Lincoln, where my father was a Prebendary, and
+because he was born on the day before St. Hugh's Feast. And then I
+really remember nothing more of him for a time, except for a scene in
+the nursery on some wet afternoon when the baby&mdash;Robin as he was at
+first called&mdash;insisted on being included in some game of tents made by
+pinning shawls over the tops of chairs, he being then, as always,
+perfectly clear what his wishes were, and equally clear that they were
+worth attending to and carrying out.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<a name="i_16" id="i_16"></a><img src="images/16.jpg" width="500" height="282" alt="THE MASTER'S LODGE, WELLINGTON COLLEGE, 1868" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Hills &amp; Saunders</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">THE MASTER&#39;S LODGE, WELLINGTON COLLEGE, 1868</span><br />
+<span class="caption">The room to the left of the porch is the study. In the room above it
+Hugh was born.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Then I vividly recall how in 1875, when we were all returning <i>en
+famille</i> from a long summer holiday spent at Torquay in a pleasant house
+lent us in Meadfoot Bay, we all travelled together in a third-class
+carriage; how it fell to my lot to have the amusing of Hugh, and how
+difficult<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> he was to amuse, because he wished to look out of the window
+the whole time, and to make remarks on everything. But at Lincoln I
+hardly remember anything of him at all, because I was at school with my
+elder brother, and only came back for the holidays; and we two had
+moreover a little sanctum of our own, a small sitting-room named Bec by
+my father, who had a taste for pleasant traditions, after Anthony Bec,
+the warlike Bishop of Durham, who had once been Chancellor of Lincoln.
+Here we arranged our collections and attended to our own concerns,
+hardly having anything to do with the nursery life, except to go to tea
+there and to play games in the evening. The one thing I do remember is
+that Hugh would under no circumstances and for no considerations ever
+consent to go into a room in the dark by himself, being extremely
+imaginative and nervous; and that on one occasion when he was asked what
+he expected to befall him, he said with a shudder and a stammer: "To
+fall over a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> mangled corpse, squish! into a pool of gore!"</p>
+
+<p>When he was between four and five years old, at Lincoln, one of his
+godfathers, Mr. Penny, an old friend and colleague of my father's at
+Wellington College, came to stay at the Chancery, and brought Hugh a
+Bible. My mother was sitting with Mr. Penny in the drawing-room after
+luncheon, when Hugh, in a little black velvet suit, his flaxen hair
+brushed till it gleamed with radiance, his face the picture of
+innocence, bearing the Bible, a very image of early piety, entered the
+room, and going up to his godfather, said with his little stammer:
+"Tha-a-ank you, Godpapa, for this beautiful Bible! will you read me some
+of it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Penny beamed with delight, and took the Bible. My mother rose to
+leave the room, feeling almost unworthy of being present at so sacred an
+interview, but as she reached the door, she heard Mr. Penny say: "And
+what shall I read about?" "The De-e-evil!" said Hugh without the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> least
+hesitation. My mother closed the door and came back.</p>
+
+<p>There was one member of our family circle for whom Hugh did undoubtedly
+cherish a very deep and tender affection from the time when his
+affections first awoke&mdash;this was for the beloved Beth, the old family
+nurse. Beth became nurse-maid to my grandmother, Mrs. Sidgwick, as a
+young girl; and the first of her nurslings, whom she tended through an
+attack of smallpox, catching the complaint herself, was my uncle,
+William Sidgwick, still alive as a vigorous octogenarian. Henry
+Sidgwick, Arthur Sidgwick, and my mother were all under Beth's care.
+Then she came on with my mother to Wellington College and nursed us all
+with the simplest and sweetest goodness and devotion. For Hugh, as the
+last of her "children," she had the tenderest love, and lavished her
+care, and indeed her money, on him. When we were all dispersed for a
+time after my father's death, Beth went to her Yorkshire relations, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+pined away in separation from her dear ones. Hugh returned alone and
+earlier than the rest, and Beth could bear it no longer, but came up
+from Yorkshire just to get a glimpse of Hugh at a station in London as
+he passed through, had a few words with him and a kiss, and gave him
+some little presents which she thought he might like, returning to
+Yorkshire tired out but comforted. I have always thought that little
+journey one of the most touching and beautiful acts of love and service
+I have ever heard of. She was nearly eighty at the time.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_20" id="i_20"></a><img src="images/20.jpg" width="400" height="591" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON AND BETH" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by R. Slingsby, Lincoln</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON AND BETH</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">AT THE CHANCERY, LINCOLN</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1876. AGED 5</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>In early days she watched over Hugh, did anything and everything for
+him; when he got older she used to delight to wait on him, to pack and
+unpack for him, to call him in the mornings, and secretly to purchase
+clothes and toilet articles to replace anything worn out or lost. In
+later days the thought that he was coming home used to make her radiant
+for days before. She used to come tapping at my door before dinner, and
+sit down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> for a little talk. "I know what you are thinking about, Beth!"
+"What is it, dear?" "Why, about Hugh, of course! You don't care for
+anyone else when he is coming." "No, don't say that, dear&mdash;but I <i>am</i>
+pleased to think that Master Hugh is coming home for a bit&mdash;I hope he
+won't be very tired!" And she used to smooth down her apron with her
+toil-worn hands and beam to herself at the prospect. He always went and
+sat with her for a little in the evenings, in her room full of all the
+old nursery treasures, and imitated her smilingly. "Nay, now, child!
+I've spoken, and that is enough!" he used to say, while she laughed for
+delight. She used to say farewell to him with tears, and wave her
+handkerchief at the window till the carriage was out of sight. Even in
+her last long illness, as she faded out of life, at over ninety years of
+age, she was made perfectly happy by the thought that he was in the
+house, and only sorry that she could not look after his things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Beth had had but little education; she could read a little in a
+well-known book, but writing was always a slow and difficult business;
+but she used slowly to compile a little letter from time to time to
+Hugh, and I find the following put away among the papers of his Eton
+days and schoolboy correspondence:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><span class="smcap">Addington Park</span>,</p>
+
+<p class="right">[? <i>Nov.</i> 1887] <i>Tuesday.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dearest</span>,&mdash;One line to tell you I am sending your Box
+to-morrow Wednesday. I hope you will get it before tea-time. I
+know you will like something for tea, you can keep your cake for
+your Birthday. I shall think about you on Friday. Everybody has
+gone away, so I had no one to write for me. I thought you would
+not mind me writing to you.&mdash;Dearest love from your dear</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beth.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>The dear Beth lived wholly in love and service; she loved just as she
+worked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> endlessly and ungrudgingly; wherever Beth is, she will find
+service to render and children to love; and I cannot think that she has
+not found the way to her darling, and he to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
+
+<h3>TRURO</h3>
+
+
+<p>We all went off again to Truro in 1877, when my father was made Bishop.
+The tradition was that as the train, leaving Lincoln, drew up after five
+minutes at the first small station on the line, perhaps Navenby, a
+little voice in the corner said: "Is this Truro?" A journey by train was
+for many years a great difficulty for Hugh, as it always made him ill,
+owing to the motion of the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>At Truro he becomes a much more definite figure in my recollections. He
+was a delicately made, light-haired, blue-eyed child, looking rather
+angelic in a velvet suit, and with small, neat feet, of which he was
+supposed to be unduly aware. He had at that time all sorts of odd
+tricks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> winkings and twitchings; and one very aggravating habit, in
+walking, of putting his feet together suddenly, stopping and looking
+down at them, while he muttered to himself the mystic formula, "Knuck,
+Nunks." But one thing about him was very distinct indeed, that he was
+entirely impervious to the public opinion of the nursery, and could
+neither be ridiculed nor cajoled out of continuing to do anything he
+chose to do. He did not care the least what was said, nor had he any
+morbid fears, as I certainly had as a child, of being disliked or mocked
+at. He went his own way, knew what he wanted to do, and did it.</p>
+
+<p>My recollections of him are mainly of his extreme love of argument and
+the adroitness with which he conducted it. He did not intend to be put
+upon as the youngest, and it was supposed that if he was ever told to do
+anything, he always replied: "Why shouldn't Fred?" He invented an
+ingenious device which he once, and once only, practised with success,
+of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> goading my brother Fred by petty shafts of domestic insult into
+pursuing him, bent on vengeance. Hugh had prepared some small pieces of
+folded paper with a view to this contingency, and as Fred gave chase,
+Hugh flung two of his papers on the ground, being sure that Fred would
+stop to examine them. The ruse was quite successful, and while Fred was
+opening the papers, Hugh sought sanctuary in the nursery. Sometimes my
+sisters were deputed to do a lesson with him. My elder sister Nelly had
+a motherly instinct, and enjoyed a small responsibility. She would
+explain a rule of arithmetic to Hugh. He would assume an expression of
+despair: "I don't understand a word of it&mdash;you go so quick." Then it
+would be explained again: "Now do you understand?" "Of course I
+understand <i>that</i>." "Very well, do a sum." The sum would begin: "Oh,
+don't push me&mdash;don't come so near&mdash;I don't like having my face blown
+on." Presently my sister with angelic patience would show him a
+mistake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> "Oh, don't interfere&mdash;you make it all mixed up in my head."
+Then he would be let alone for a little. Then he would put the slate
+down with an expression of despair and resignation; if my sister took no
+notice he would say: "I thought Mamma told you to help me in my sums?
+How can I understand without having it explained to me?" It was
+impossible to get the last word; indeed he used to give my sister
+Maggie, when she taught him, what he called "Temper-tickets," at the end
+of the lesson; and on one occasion, when he was to repeat a Sunday
+collect to her, he was at last reported to my mother, as being wholly
+intractable. This was deeply resented; and after my sister had gone to
+bed, a small piece of paper was pushed in beneath her door, on which was
+written: "The most unhappiest Sunday I ever spent in my life. Whose
+fault?"</p>
+
+<p>Again, when Maggie had found him extremely cross and tiresome one
+morning in the lessons she was taking, she discovered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> when Hugh at
+last escaped, a piece of paper on the schoolroom table, on which he had
+written</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Passionate Magey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Toodle Ha! Ha!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The old gose."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>There was another story of how he was asked to write out a list of the
+things he wanted, with a view to a birthday that was coming. The list
+ended:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A little compenshion goat, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tiny-winy train, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A nice little pen."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The diminutives were evidently intended to give the requirements a
+modest air. As for "compenshion," he had asked what some nursery animal
+was made of, a fracture having displayed a sort of tough fibrous
+plaster. He was told that it was made of "a composition."</p>
+
+<p>We used to play many rhyming games at that time; and Hugh at the age of
+eight wrote a poem about a swarm of gnats dancing in the sun, which
+ended:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And when they see their comrades laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thousands round the garden glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They know they were not really made<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To live for evermore."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In one of these games, each player wrote a question which was to be
+answered by some other player in a poem; Hugh, who had been talked to
+about the necessity of overcoming some besetting sin in Lent, wrote with
+perfect good faith as his question, "What is your sin for Lent?"</p>
+
+<p>As a child, and always throughout his life, he was absolutely free from
+any touch of priggishness or precocious piety. He complained once to my
+sister that when he was taken out walks by his elders, he heard about
+nothing but "poetry and civilisation." In a friendly little memoir of
+him, which I have been sent, I find the following passage: "In his early
+childhood, when reason was just beginning to ponder over the meaning of
+things, he was so won to enthusiastic admiration of the heroes and
+heroines of the Catholic Church that he decided he would probe for
+himself the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Catholic claims, and the child would say to the father,
+'Father, if there be such a sacrament as Penance, can I go?' And the
+good Archbishop, being evasive in his answers, the young boy found
+himself emerging more and more in a woeful Nemesis of faith." It would
+be literally <i>impossible</i>, I think, to construct a story less
+characteristic both of Hugh's own attitude of mind as well as of the
+atmosphere of our family and household life than this!</p>
+
+<p>He was always very sensitive to pain and discomfort. On one occasion,
+when his hair was going to be cut, he said to my mother: "Mayn't I have
+chloroform for it?"</p>
+
+<p>And my mother has described to me a journey which she once took with him
+abroad when he was a small boy. He was very ill on the crossing, and
+they had only just time to catch the train. She had some luncheon with
+her, but he said that the very mention of food made him sick. She
+suggested that she should sit at the far end of the carriage and eat her
+own lunch,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> while he shut his eyes; but he said that the mere sound of
+crumpled paper made him ill, and then that the very idea that there was
+food in the carriage upset him; so that my mother had to get out on the
+first stop and bolt her food on the platform.</p>
+
+<p>One feat of Hugh's I well remember. Sir James McGarel Hogg, afterwards
+Lord Magheramorne, was at the time member for Truro. He was a stately
+and kindly old gentleman, pale-faced and white-bearded, with formal and
+dignified manners. He was lunching with us one day, and gave his arm to
+my mother to conduct her to the dining-room. Hugh, for some reason best
+known to himself, selected that day to secrete himself in the
+dining-room beforehand, and burst out upon Sir James with a wild howl,
+intended to create consternation. Neither then nor ever was he
+embarrassed by inconvenient shyness.</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop's house at Truro, Lis Escop, had been the rectory of the rich
+living of Kenwyn; it was bought for the see and added to. It was a
+charming house about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> a mile out of Truro above a sequestered valley,
+with a far-off view of the little town lying among hills, with the smoke
+going up, and the gleaming waters of the estuary enfolded in the uplands
+beyond. The house had some acres of pasture-land about it and some fine
+trees; with a big garden and shrubberies, an orchard and a wood. We were
+all very happy there, save for the shadow of my eldest brother's death
+as a Winchester boy in 1878. I was an Eton boy myself and thus was only
+there in the holidays; we lived a very quiet life, with few visitors;
+and my recollection of the time there is one of endless games and
+schemes and amusements. We had writing games and drawing games, and
+acted little plays.</p>
+
+<p>We children had a mysterious secret society, with titles and offices and
+ceremonies: an old alcoved arbour in the garden, with a seat running
+round it, and rough panelling behind, was the chapter-house of the
+order. There were robes and initiations and a book of proceedings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> Hugh
+held the undistinguished office of Servitor, and his duties were mainly
+those of a kind of acolyte. I think he somewhat enjoyed the meetings,
+though the difficulty was always to discover any purpose for which the
+society existed. There were subscriptions and salaries; and to his
+latest day it delighted him to talk of the society, and to point out
+that his salary had never equalled his subscription.</p>
+
+<p>There were three or four young clergy, Arthur Mason, now Canon of
+Canterbury, G. H. Whitaker, since Canon of Hereford, John Reeve, late
+Rector of Lambeth, G. H. S. Walpole, now Bishop of Edinburgh, who had
+come down with my father, and they were much in the house. My father
+Himself was full of energy and hopefulness, and loved Cornwall with an
+almost romantic love. But in all of this Hugh was too young to take much
+part. Apart from school hours he was a quick, bright, clever child,
+wanting to take his part in everything. My brother Fred and I were away
+at school, or later at the University;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> and the home circle, except for
+the holidays, consisted of my father and mother, my two sisters, and
+Hugh. My father had been really prostrated with grief at the death of my
+eldest brother, who was a boy of quite extraordinary promise and
+maturity of mind. My father was of a deeply affectionate and at the same
+time anxious disposition; he loved family life, but he had an almost
+tremulous sense of his parental responsibility. I have never known
+anyone in my life whose personality was so strongly marked as my
+father's. He had a superhuman activity, and cared about everything to
+which he put his hand with an intensity and an enthusiasm that was
+almost overwhelming. At the same time he was extremely sensitive; and
+this affected him in a curious way. A careless word from one of us, some
+tiny instance of childish selfishness or lack of affection, might
+distress him out of all proportion. He would brood over such things,
+make himself unhappy, and at the same time feel it his duty to correct
+what he felt to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> be a dangerous tendency. He could not think lightly of
+a trifle or deal with it lightly; and he would appeal, I now think, to
+motives more exalted than the occasion justified. A little heedless
+utterance would be met by him not by a half-humourous word, but by a
+grave and solemn remonstrance. We feared his displeasure very much, but
+we could never be quite sure what would provoke it. If he was in a
+cheerful mood, he might pass over with a laugh or an ironical word what
+in a sad or anxious mood would evoke an indignant and weighty censure. I
+was much with him at this time, and was growing to understand him
+better; but even so, I could hardly say that I was at ease in his
+presence. I did not talk of the things that were in my mind, but of the
+things which I thought would please him; and when he was pleased, his
+delight was evident and richly rewarding.</p>
+
+<p>But in these days he began to have a peculiar and touching affection for
+Hugh, and hoped that he would prove the be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>loved companion of his age.
+Hugh used to trot about with him, spudding up weeds from the lawn. He
+used, when at home, to take Hugh's Latin lessons, and threw himself into
+the congenial task of teaching with all his force and interest. Yet I
+have often heard Hugh say that these lessons were seldom free from a
+sense of strain. He never knew what he might not be expected to know or
+to respond to with eager interest. My father had a habit, in teaching,
+of over-emphasising minute details and nuances of words, insisting upon
+derivations and tenses, packing into language a mass of suggestions and
+associations which could never have entered into the mind of the writer.
+Language ought to be treated sympathetically, as the not over-precise
+expression of human emotion and wonder; but my father made it of a
+half-scientific, half-fanciful analysis. This might prove suggestive and
+enriching to more mature minds. But Hugh once said to me that he used to
+feel day after day like a small china mug being filled out of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+waterfall. Moreover Hugh's mind was lively and imaginative, but fitful
+and impatient; and the process both daunted and wearied him.</p>
+
+<p>I have lately been looking through a number of letters from my father to
+Hugh in his schooldays. Reading between the lines, and knowing the
+passionate affection in the background, these are beautiful and pathetic
+documents. But they are over-full of advice, suggestion, criticism,
+anxious inquiries about work and religion, thought and character. This
+was all a part of the strain and tension at which my father lived. He
+was so absorbed in his work, found life such a tremendous business, was
+so deeply in earnest, that he could not relax, could not often enjoy a
+perfectly idle, leisurely, amused mood. Hugh himself was the exact
+opposite. He could work, in later days, with fierce concentration and
+immense energy; but he also could enjoy, almost more than anyone I have
+ever seen, rambling, inconsequent, easy talk, consisting of stories,
+arguments, and ideas just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> they came into his head; this had no
+counterpart in my father, who was always purposeful.</p>
+
+<p>But it was a happy time at Truro for Hugh. Speaking generally, I should
+call him in those days a quick, inventive, active-minded child, entirely
+unsentimental; he was fond of trying his hand at various things, but he
+was impatient and volatile, would never take trouble, and as a
+consequence never did anything well. One would never have supposed, in
+those early days, that he was going to be so hard a worker, and still
+less such a worker as he afterwards became, who perfected his gifts by
+such continuous, prolonged, and constantly renewed labour. I recollect
+his giving a little conjuring entertainment as a boy, but he had
+practised none of his tricks, and the result was a fiasco, which had to
+be covered up by lavish and undeserved applause; a little later, too, at
+Addington, he gave an exhibition of marionettes, which illustrated
+historical scenes. The puppets were dressed by Beth, our old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> nurse, and
+my sisters, and Hugh was the showman behind the scenes. The little
+curtains were drawn up for a tableau which was supposed to represent an
+episode in the life of Thomas &agrave; Becket. Hugh's voice enunciated, "Scene,
+an a-arid waste!" Then came a silence, and then Hugh was heard to say to
+his assistant in a loud, agitated whisper, "Where is the Archbishop?"
+But the puppet had been mislaid, and he had to go on to the next
+tableau. The most remarkable thing about him was a real independence of
+character, with an entire disregard of other people's opinion. What he
+liked, what he felt, what he decided, was the important thing to him,
+and so long as he could get his way, I do not think that he troubled his
+head about what other people might think or wish; he did not want to
+earn good opinions, nor did he care for disapproval or approval; people
+in fact were to him at that time more or less favourable channels for
+him to follow his own designs, more or less stubborn obstacles to his
+attaining his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> wishes. He was not at all a sensitive or shrinking child.
+He was quite capable of holding his own, full of spirit and fearless,
+though quiet enough, and not in the least interfering, except when his
+rights were menaced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
+
+<h3>BOYHOOD</h3>
+
+
+<p>He went to school at Clevedon, in Somersetshire, in 1882, at Walton
+House, then presided over by Mr. Cornish. It was a well-managed place,
+and the teaching was good. I suppose that all boys of an independent
+mind dislike the first breaking-in to the ways of the world, and the
+exchanging of the freedom of home for the barrack-life of school, the
+absence of privacy, and the sense of being continually under the
+magnifying-glass which school gives. It was dreadful to Hugh to have to
+account for himself at all times, to justify his ways and tastes, his
+fancies and even his appearance, to boys and masters alike. Bullying is
+indeed practically extinct in well-managed schools; but small boys are
+inquisitive, observant, extremely conventional, almost like savages in
+their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> inventiveness of prohibitions and taboos, and perfectly merciless
+in criticism. The instinct for power is shown by small boys in the
+desire to make themselves felt, which is most easily accomplished by
+minute ridicule. Hugh made friends there, but he never really enjoyed
+the life of the place. The boys who get on well at school from the first
+are robust, normal boys, without any inconvenient originality, who enjoy
+games and the good-natured rough and tumble of school life. But Hugh was
+not a boy of that kind; he was small, not good at games, and had plenty
+of private fancies and ideas of his own. He was ill at ease, and he
+never liked the town of straggling modern houses on the low sea-front,
+with the hills and ports of Wales rising shadowy across the mud-stained
+tide.</p>
+
+<p>He was quick and clever, and had been well taught; so that in 1885 he
+won a scholarship at Eton, and entered college there, to my great
+delight, in the September of that year. I had just returned to Eton as a
+master, and was living with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> Edward Lyttelton in a quaint, white-gabled
+house called Baldwin's Shore, which commanded a view of Windsor Castle,
+and overlooked the little, brick-parapeted, shallow pond known as
+Barnes' Pool, which, with the sluggish stream that feeds it, separates
+the college from the town, and is crossed by the main London road. It
+was a quaint little house, which had long ago been a boarding-house, and
+contained many low-coiled, odd-shaped rooms. Hugh was Edward Lyttelton's
+private pupil, so that he was often in and out of the place. But I did
+not see very much of him. He was a small, ingenuous-looking creature in
+those days, light-haired and blue-eyed; and when a little later he
+became a steerer of one of the boats, he looked very attractive in his
+Fourth of June dress, as a middy, with a dirk and white duck trousers,
+dangling an enormous bouquet from his neck. At Eton he did very little
+in the way of work, and his intellect must have been much in abeyance;
+because so poor was his performance, that it became a matter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> of
+surprise among his companions that he had ever won a scholarship at all.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_44" id="i_44"></a><img src="images/44.jpg" width="400" height="580" alt="THE THREE BROTHERS, 1882" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Elliott &amp; Fry</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">THE THREE BROTHERS, 1882</span><br />
+<span class="caption">E. F. Benson at Marlborough. Aged 15.</span><br />
+<span class="caption">A. C. Benson at Cambridge. Aged 21.</span><br />
+<span class="caption">R. H. Benson at Mr. Cornish's School at Clevedon. Aged 11.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I have said that I did not know very much about Hugh at Eton; this was
+the result of the fact that several of the boys of his set were my
+private pupils. It was absolutely necessary that a master in that
+position should avoid any possibility of collusion with a younger
+brother, whose friends were that master's pupils. If it had been
+supposed that I questioned Hugh about my pupils and their private lives,
+or if he had been thought likely to tell me tales, we should both of us
+have been branded. But as he had no wish to confide, and indeed little
+enough to consult anyone about, and as I had no wish for sidelights, we
+did not talk about his school life at all. The set of boys in which he
+lived was a curious one; they were fairly clever, but they must have
+been, I gathered afterwards, quite extraordinarily critical and
+quarrelsome. There was one boy in particular, a caustic, spiteful, and
+extremely mischief-making creature, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> turned the set into a series of
+cliques and parties. Hugh used to say afterwards that he had never known
+anyone in his life with such an eye for other people's weaknesses, or
+with such a talent for putting them in the most disagreeable light. Hugh
+once nearly got into serious trouble; a small boy in the set was
+remorselessly and disgracefully bullied; it came out, and Hugh was
+involved&mdash;I remember that Dr. Warre spoke to me about it with much
+concern&mdash;but a searching investigation revealed that Hugh had really had
+nothing to do with it, and the victim of the bullying spoke insistently
+in Hugh's favour.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh describes how the facts became known in the holidays, and how my
+father in his extreme indignation at what he supposed to be proved, so
+paralysed Hugh that he had no opportunity of clearing himself. But
+anyone who had ever known Hugh would have felt that it was the last
+thing he would have done. He was tenacious enough of his own rights, and
+argumentative enough; but he never had the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> faintest touch of the
+savagery that amuses itself at the sight of another's sufferings. "I
+hate cruelty more than anything in the whole world," he wrote later;
+"the existence of it is the only thing which reconciles my conscience to
+the necessity of Hell."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh speaks in his book, <i>The Confession of a Convert</i>, about the
+extremely negative character of his religious impressions at school. I
+think it is wholly accurate. Living as we did in an ecclesiastical
+household, and with a father who took singular delight in ceremonial and
+liturgical devotion, I think that religion did impress itself rather too
+much as a matter of solemn and dignified occupation than as a matter of
+feeling and conduct. It was not that my father ever forgot the latter;
+indeed, behind his love for symbolical worship lay a passionate and
+almost Puritan evangelicalism. But he did not speak easily and openly of
+spiritual experience. I was myself profoundly attracted as a boy by the
+&aelig;sthetic side of religion, and loved its solemnities with all my heart;
+but it was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> till I made friends with Bishop Wilkinson at the age of
+seventeen that I had any idea of spiritual religion and the practice of
+friendship with God. Certainly Hugh missed it, in spite of very loving
+and earnest talks and deeply touching letters from my father on the
+subject. I suppose that there must come for most people a spiritual
+awakening; and until that happens, all talk of emotional religion and
+the love of God is a thing submissively accepted, and simply not
+understood or realised as an actual thing.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh was not at Eton very long&mdash;not more than three or four years. He
+never became in any way a typical Etonian. If I am asked to say what
+that is, I should say that it is the imbibing instinctively of what is
+eminently a fine, manly, and graceful convention. Its good side is a
+certain chivalrous code of courage, honour, efficiency, courtesy, and
+duty. Its fault is a sense of perfect rightness and self-sufficiency, an
+overvaluing of sport and games, an undervaluing of intellectual
+interests,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> enthusiasm, ideas. It is not that the sense of effortless
+superiority is to be emphasized or insisted upon&mdash;modesty entirely
+forbids that&mdash;but it is the sort of feeling described ironically in the
+book of Job, when the patriarch says to the elders, "No doubt but ye are
+the people, and wisdom shall die with you." It is a tacit belief that
+all has been done for one that the world can do, and that one's standing
+is so assured that it need never be even claimed or paraded.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_48" id="i_48"></a><img src="images/48.jpg" width="400" height="588" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Hills &amp; Saunders</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1889. AGE 17</span><br />
+<span class="caption">As Steerer of the <i>St. George</i>, at Eton.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Still less was Hugh a typical Colleger. College at Eton, where the
+seventy boys who get scholarships are boarded, is a school within a
+school. The Collegers wear gowns and surplices in public, they have
+their own customs and traditions and games. It is a small, close, clever
+society, and produces a tough kind of self-confidence, together with a
+devotion to a particular tradition which is almost like a religious
+initiation. Perhaps if the typical Etonian is conscious of a certain
+absolute rightness in the eyes of the world, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> typical Colleger has a
+sense almost of absolute righteousness, which does not need even to be
+endorsed by the world. The danger of both is that the process is
+completed at perhaps too early a date, and that the product is too
+consciously a finished one, needing to be enlarged and modified by
+contact with the world.</p>
+
+<p>But Hugh did not stay at Eton long enough for this process to complete
+itself. He decided that he wished to compete for the Indian Civil
+Service; and as it was clear that he could not do this successfully at
+Eton, my father most reluctantly allowed him to leave.</p>
+
+<p>I find among the little scraps which survive from his schoolboy days,
+the following note. It was written on his last night at Eton. He says:
+"<i>I write this on Thursday evening after ten. Peel keeping passage.</i>"
+"Peel" is Sidney Peel, the Speaker's son. The passages are patrolled by
+the Sixth Form from ten to half-past, to see that no boy leaves his room
+without permission. Then follows:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>My feelings on leaving are&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Excitement.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Foreboding of Wren's and fellows there.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Sorrow at leaving Eton.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Pride as being an old Etonian.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Certain pleasure in leaving for many trivial matters.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Feeling of importance.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Frightful longing for India.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Homesickness.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i10"><i>DEAR ME!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was characteristic of Hugh that he should wish both to analyse his
+feelings on such an occasion, and to give expression to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
+
+<h3>AT WREN'S</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh accordingly went to Mr. Wren's coaching establishment in London,
+living partly at Lambeth, when my family were in town, and partly as a
+boarder with a clergyman. It was a time of hard work; and I really
+retain very few recollections of him at all at this date. I was myself
+very busy at Eton, and spent the holidays to a great extent in
+travelling and paying visits; and I think that Christmas, when we used
+to write, rehearse, and act a family play, was probably the only time at
+which I saw him.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh went abroad for a short time to learn French, with a party of
+Indian Civil Service candidates, and no doubt forgot to write home, for
+I find the following characteristic letter of my father's to him:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lambeth Palace</span>, S.E., <i>30th June</i> 1889.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Hughie</span>,&mdash;We have been rather mourning about
+not hearing one word from you. We <i>supposed</i> all would be right as
+you were a large party. But <i>one</i> word would be so easy to those
+who love you so, who have done all they could to enable you to
+follow your own line, against their own wishes and affection!</p>
+
+<p>We hope at any rate you are writing to-day. And we have sent off
+"Pioneers and Founders," which we hope will both give you happy
+and interesting Sunday reading, and remind you of us.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Spiers writes that you are backward in French but getting on
+rather fast.</p>
+
+<p>I want you now at the beginning of this cramming year to make two
+or three Resolutions, besides those which you know and have
+thought of often and practised:</p>
+
+<p>1. To determine never to do any secular examination work on
+Sundays&mdash;to keep all reading that day as fitting "The <i>Lord's</i>
+Day" and the "Day of Rest."</p>
+
+<p>I had a poor friend who would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> done very well at Oxford, but
+he would make no difference between Sunday and other days. He
+worked on just the same and in the Examination <i>itself</i>, just as
+the goal was reached, he broke down and took no degree. The
+doctors said it was all owing to the continuous nervous strain. If
+he had taken the Sundays it would just have saved him.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Selborne was once telling me of his tremendous work at one
+time, and he said, "I never could have done it, but that I took my
+Sundays. I never would work on them."</p>
+
+<p>2. We have arranged for you to go over to the Holy Communion one
+day at Dinan. Perhaps some nice fellow will go with you&mdash;Mr.
+Spiers will anyhow. Tell us <i>which</i> Sunday, so that we may all be
+with you <span title="en pneumati">&epsilon;&nu; &pi;&nu;&epsilon;&upsilon;&mu;&alpha;&tau;&iota;</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Last night we dined at the Speaker's to meet, the Prince and
+Princess of Wales. It was very interesting. The Terrace of the
+House of Commons was lighted with electric light. A steamer went
+by and cheered!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Shah will fill London with grand spectacles, and I suppose his
+coming will have much effect on politics&mdash;perhaps on <i>India</i> too.</p>
+
+<p>All are well.&mdash;Ever your most loving father,</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Edw. Cantuar</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I am going to preach at the Abbey to-night.</p>
+
+
+<p>Hugh failed, however, to secure a place in the Indian Civil Service, and
+it was decided that he should go up to Trinity College, Cambridge, and
+read for classical honours.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this date I do not think that anything very conscious or definite
+had been going on in Hugh's mind or heart. He always said himself that
+it astonished him on looking back to think how purely negative and
+undeveloped his early life had been, and how it had been lived on
+entirely superficial lines, without plans or ambitions, simply taking
+things as they came.</p>
+
+<p>I think it was quite true that it was so;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> his emotions were dormant,
+his powers were dormant. I do not think he had either great affections
+or great friendships. He liked companionship and amusement, he avoided
+what bored him; he had no inclinations to evil, but neither had he any
+marked inclinations to what was good. Neither had any of his many and
+varied gifts and accomplishments showed themselves. I used to think
+latterly that he was one of the most gifted people I had ever seen in
+all artistic ways. Whatever he took up he seemed able to do, without any
+apprenticeship or drudgery. Music, painting, drawing, carving,
+designing&mdash;he took them all up in turn; and I used to feel that if he
+had devoted himself to any one of them he could have reached a high
+excellence. Even his literary gifts, so various and admirable, showed
+but few signs of their presence in the early days; he was not in the
+least precocious. I think that on the whole it was beneficial to him
+that his energies all lay fallow. My father, stern as his conception of
+duty was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> had a horror of applying any intellectual pressure to us. I
+myself must confess that I was distinctly idle and dilettante both as a
+boy at Eton and as a Cambridge undergraduate. But much as my father
+appreciated and applauded any little successes, I was often surprised
+that I was never taken to task for my poor performances in work and
+scholarship. The truth was that my eldest brother's death at Winchester
+was supposed partly to have been due to his extraordinary intellectual
+and mental development, and I am sure that my father was afraid of
+over-stimulating our mental energies. I feel certain that what was going
+on in Hugh's case all the time was a keen exercise of observation. I
+have no doubt that his brain was receiving and gaining impressions of
+every kind, and that his mind was not really inactive&mdash;it was only
+unconsciously amassing material. He had a very quick and delighted
+perception of human temperament, of the looks, gestures, words,
+mannerisms, habits, and oddities of human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> beings. If Hugh had been born
+in a household professionally artistic, and had been trained in art of
+any kind, I think he would very likely have become an accomplished
+artist or musician, and probably have shown great precocity. But he was
+never an artist in the sense that art was a torment to him, or that he
+made any sacrifice of other aims to it. It was always just a part of
+existence to him, and of the nature of an amusement, though in so far as
+it represented the need of self-expression in forms of beauty, it
+underlay and permeated the whole of his life.</p>
+
+<p>The first sign of his artistic enthusiasm awakening was during his time
+in London, when he conceived an intense admiration for the music and
+ceremony of St. Paul's. Sir George Martin, on whom my father had
+conferred a musical degree, was very kind to him, and allowed Hugh to
+frequent the organ-loft. "To me," Hugh once wrote, "music is the great
+reservoir of emotion from which flow out streams of salvation." But this
+was not only a mu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>sical devotion. I believe that he now conceived, or
+rather perhaps developed, a sense of the symbolical poetry of religious
+rites and ceremonies which remained with him to the end. It is true to
+say that the force and quality of ritual, as a province of art, has been
+greatly neglected and overlooked. It is not for a moment to be regarded
+as a purely artistic thing; but it most undoubtedly has an attraction
+and a fascination as clear and as sharply defined as the attraction of
+music, poetry, painting or drama. All art is an attempt to express a
+sense of the overwhelming power of beauty. It is hard to say what beauty
+is, but it seems to be one of the inherent qualities of the Unknown, an
+essential part of the Divine mind. In England we are so stupid and so
+concrete that we are apt to think of a musician as one who arranges
+chords, and of a painter as one who copies natural effects. It is not
+really that at all. The artist is in reality struggling with an idea,
+which idea is a consciousness of an amazing and adorable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> quality in
+things, which affects him passionately and to which he must give
+expression. The form which his expression takes is conditioned by the
+sharpness of his perception in some direction or other. To the musician,
+notes and intervals and vibrations are just the fairy flights and dances
+of forms audible to the ear; to the painter, it is a question of shapes
+and colours perceptible to the eye. The dramatist sees the same beauty
+in the interplay of human emotion; while it may be maintained that
+holiness itself is a passionate perception of moral beauty, and that the
+saint is attracted by purity and compassion, and repelled by sin,
+disorder, and selfishness, in the same way as the artist is attracted
+and repelled by visible charm and ugliness.</p>
+
+<p>Ritual has been as a rule so closely annexed to religion&mdash;though all
+spectacular delights and ceremonies have the same quality&mdash;that it has
+never been reckoned among artistic predilections. The aim of ritual is,
+I believe, a high poetry of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> the essence is symbolism and mystery.
+The movement of forms solemnly vested, and with a background of
+architecture and music, produces an emotion quite distinct from other
+artistic emotions. It is a method, like all other arts, through which a
+human being arrives at a sense of mysterious beauty, and it evokes in
+mystical minds a passion to express themselves in just that way and no
+other, and to celebrate thus their sense of the unknown.</p>
+
+<p>But there has always been a natural terror in the religious mind of
+laying too much stress on this, or of seeming to encourage too much an
+&aelig;sthetic emotion. If the first business of religion is to purify life,
+there will always be a suspicion of idolatry about ritual, a fear of
+substituting a vague desire for beauty for a practical devotion to right
+conduct.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh wrote to me some years later what he felt about it all:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"... Liturgy, to my mind, is nothing more than a very fine and
+splendid art,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> conveying things, to people who possess the
+liturgical faculty, in an extraordinarily dramatic and vivid way.
+I further believe that this is an art which has been gradually
+brought nearer and nearer perfection by being tested and developed
+through nineteen centuries, by every kind of mind and nationality.
+The way in which it does, indisputably, appeal to such very
+different kinds of people, and unite them, does, quite apart from
+other things, give it a place with music and painting.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>"I do frankly acknowledge Liturgy to be no more than an art&mdash;and
+therefore not in the least generally necessary to salvation; and I
+do not in the least 'condemn' people who do not appreciate it. It
+is only a way of presenting facts&mdash;and, in the case of Holy Week
+Ceremonies, these facts are such as those of the Passion of
+Christ, the sins of men, the Resurrection and the Sovereignty of
+Christ."</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I have laid stress upon all this, because I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> believe that from this time
+the poetry and beauty of ritual had a deep and increasing fascination
+for Hugh. But it is a thing about which it is so easy for the enemy to
+blaspheme, to ridicule ceremonial in religion as a mere species of
+entertainment, that religious minds have always been inclined to
+disclaim the strength of its influence. Hugh certainly inherited this
+particular perception from my father. I should doubt if anyone ever knew
+so much about religious ceremonial as he did, or perceived so clearly
+the force of it. "I am almost ashamed to seem to know so much about
+these things," I have often heard him say; and again, "I don't ever seem
+able to forget the smallest detail of ritual." My father had a very
+strong artistic nature&mdash;poetry, sculpture, painting, architecture,
+scenery, were all full of fascination to him&mdash;for music alone of the
+arts he had but little taste; and I think that it ought to be realised
+that Hugh's nature was an artistic one through and through. He had the
+most lively and passionate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> sensibility to the appeal of art. He had,
+too, behind the outer sensitiveness, the inner toughness of the artist.
+It is often mistakenly thought that the artist is sensitive through and
+through. In my experience, this is not the case. The artist has to be
+protected against the overwhelming onset of emotions and perceptions by
+a strong interior fortress of emotional calm and serenity. It is certain
+that this was the case with Hugh. He was not in the least sentimental,
+he was not really very emotional. He was essentially solitary within; he
+attracted friendship and love more than he gave them. I do not think
+that he ever suffered very acutely through his personal emotions. His
+energy of output was so tremendous, his power of concentration so great,
+that he found a security here from the more ravaging emotions of the
+heart. Not often did he give his heart away; he admired greatly, he
+sympathised freely; but I never saw him desolated or stricken by any
+bereavement or loss. I used to think sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> that he never needed
+anyone. I never saw him exhibit the smallest trace of jealousy, nor did
+he ever desire to possess anyone's entire affection. He recognised any
+sign of affection generously and eagerly; but he never claimed to keep
+it exclusively as his own.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
+
+<h3>CAMBRIDGE</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh went then to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1890. He often talked
+to me in later days about his time there as an undergraduate. He found a
+number of his Eton contemporaries up there, and he had a very sociable
+time. A friend and contemporary of his at Trinity describes him as
+small, light, and boyish-looking. "He walked fast, and always appeared
+to be busy." He never cared much about athletics, but he was an
+excellent steerer. He steered the third Trinity boat all the time he was
+at Cambridge, and was a member of the Leander club. He was always
+perfectly cool, and not in the smallest degree nervous. He was,
+moreover, an excellent walker and mountain-climber. He once walked up to
+London from Cambridge; I have climbed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> mountains with him, and he was
+very agile, quick, surefooted, and entirely intrepid. Let me interpolate
+a little anecdote of an accident at Pontresina, which might have been
+serious. Hugh and I, with a practised Alpine climber, Dr. Leith, left
+Pontresina early one morning to climb a rock-peak. We were in a light
+carriage with a guide and porter. The young horse which drew us, as we
+were rattling down the high embanked road leading to Samaden, took a
+sharp turn to the right, where a road branched off. He was sharply
+checked by the guide, with the result that the carriage collided with a
+stone post, and we were all flung out down the embankment, a living
+cataract of men, ice-axes, haversacks, and wraps. The horse fortunately
+stopped. We picked ourselves ruefully up and resumed our places. Not
+until we reached our destination did we become aware that the whole
+incident had passed in silence. Not one word of advice or recrimination
+or even of surprise had passed anyone's lips!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Hugh's climbing was put a stop to by a sharp attack of heart-failure
+on the Piz Pal&ugrave;. He was with my brother Fred, and after a long climb
+through heavy snow, he collapsed and was with difficulty carried down.
+He believed himself to be on the point of death, and records in one of
+his books that the prospect aroused no emotion whatever in his mind
+either of fear or excitement, only of deep curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>While he was an undergraduate, he and I had a sudden and overwhelming
+interest in family history and genealogy. We went up to Yorkshire for a
+few days one winter, stayed at Pateley Bridge, Ripon, Bolton Abbey,
+Ripley, and finally York. At Pateley Bridge we found the parish
+registers very ancient and complete, and by the aid of them, together
+with the printed register of Fountains Abbey, we traced a family tree
+back as far as to the fourteenth century, with ever-increasing evidence
+of the poverty and mean condition of our ancestral stock. We visited the
+houses and cradles of the race, and from comfortable granges<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> and
+farmsteads we declined, as the record conducted us back, to hovels and
+huts of quite conspicuous humility and squalor. The thermometer fell
+lower and lower every day, in sympathy with our researches. I remember a
+night when we slept in a neglected assembly-room tacked on to a country
+inn, on hastily improvised and scantily covered beds, when the water
+froze in the ewers; and an attempt to walk over the moors one afternoon
+from Masham into Nidderdale, when the springs by the roadside froze into
+lumpy congealments, like guttering candles, and we were obliged to turn
+back; and how we beguiled a ten-mile walk to Ripon, the last train
+having gone, by telling an enormous improvised story, each taking an
+alternate chapter, and each leaving the knots to be untied by the next
+narrator. Hugh was very lively and ingenious in this, and proved the
+most delightful of companions, though we had to admit as we returned
+together that we had ruined the romance of our family history beyond
+repair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_68" id="i_68"></a><img src="images/68.jpg" width="400" height="610" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Elliott &amp; Fry</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1893. AGED 21</span><br />
+<span class="caption">As an Undergraduate at Cambridge.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Hugh did very little work at Cambridge; he had given up classics, and
+was working at theology, with a view to taking Orders. He managed to
+secure a Third in the Tripos; he showed no intellectual promise
+whatever; he was a very lively and amusing companion and a keen debater;
+I think he wrote a little poetry; but he had no very pronounced tastes.
+I remember his pointing out to me the windows of an extremely
+unattractive set of ground-floor rooms in Whewell's Court as those which
+he had occupied till he migrated to the Bishop's Hostel, eventually
+moving to the Great Court. They look down Jesus Lane, and the long,
+sombre wall of Sidney Sussex Garden. A flagged passage runs down to the
+right of them, and the sitting-room is on the street. They were dark,
+stuffy, and extremely noisy. The windows were high up, and splashed with
+mud by the vehicles in the street, while it was necessary to keep them
+shut, because otherwise conversation was wholly inaudible. "What did you
+do there?" I said. "Heaven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> knows!" he answered. "As far as I can
+remember, I mostly sat up late at night and played cards!" He certainly
+spent a great deal of money. He had a good allowance, but he had so much
+exceeded it at the end of his first year, that a financial crisis
+followed, and my mother paid his debts for him. He had kept no accounts,
+and he had entertained profusely.</p>
+
+<p>The following letter from my father to him refers to one of Hugh's
+attempts to economise. He caught a bad feverish cold at Cambridge as a
+result of sleeping in a damp room, and was carried off to be nursed by
+my uncle, Henry Sidgwick:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><span class="smcap">Addington Park, Croydon</span>,</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>26th Jan.</i> 1891.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Hughie</span>,&mdash;I was rather disturbed to hear that you
+imagined that what I said in October about not <i>needlessly
+indulging</i> was held by you to forbid your having a fire in your
+bedroom on the ground floor in the depth of such a winter as we
+have had!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>You ought to have a fire lighted at such a season at 8 o'clock so
+as to warm and dry the room, and all in it, nearly every
+evening&mdash;and whenever the room seems damp, have a fire just
+lighted to go out when it will. It's not wholesome to sleep in
+heated rooms, but they must be dry. A <i>bed</i> slept in every night
+keeps so, if the room is not damp; but the room must not be damp,
+and when it is unoccupied for two or three days it is sure to get
+so.</p>
+
+<p><i>Be sure</i> that there is a good fire in it all day, and all your
+bed things, <i>mattress and all</i>, kept well before it for at <i>least</i>
+a <i>whole day before you go back from Uncle Henry's</i>.</p>
+
+<p>How was it your bed-maker had not your room well warmed and dried,
+mattress dry, etc., before you went up this time? She ought to
+have had, and should be spoken to about it&mdash;<i>i.e.</i> unless you told
+her not to! in which case it would be very like having no
+breakfast!</p>
+
+<p>It has been a horrid interruption in the beginning of term&mdash;and
+you'll have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>difficulty with the loss of time. Besides which I
+have no doubt you have been very uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>But I don't understand why you should have "nothing to write
+about" because you have been in bed. Surely you must have
+accumulated all sorts of reflective and imaginative stories there.</p>
+
+<p>It is most kind of Aunt Nora and Uncle Henry&mdash;give my love and
+thanks to both.</p>
+
+<p>I grieve to say that many many more fish are found dead since the
+thaw melted the banks of swept snow off the sides of the ice. It
+is most piteous; the poor things seem to have come to the edge
+where the water is shallowest&mdash;there is a shoal where we generally
+feed the swans.</p>
+
+<p>I am happy to say the goldfish seem all alive and merry. The
+continual dropping of fresh water has no doubt saved them&mdash;they
+were never hermetically sealed in like the other poor things.</p>
+
+<p>Yesterday I was at Ringwould, near Dover. The farmers had been up
+all night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> saving their cattle in the stalls from the sudden
+floods.</p>
+
+<p>Here we have not had any, though the earth is washed very much
+from the hills in streaks.</p>
+
+<p>We are&mdash;at least I am&mdash;dreadfully sorry to go to London&mdash;though
+the house is very dull without "the boys."</p>
+
+<p>All right about the books.&mdash;Ever your loving father,</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Edw. Cantuar</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>Hugh was much taken up with experiments in hypnotism as an
+undergraduate, and found that he had a real power of inducing hypnotic
+sleep, and even of curing small ailments. He told my mother all about
+his experiments, and she wrote to him at once that he must either leave
+this off while he was at Cambridge, or that my father must be told. Hugh
+at once gave up his experiments, and escaped an unpleasant contretemps,
+as the authorities discovered what was going on, and actually, I
+believe, sent some of the offenders down.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hugh says that he drifted into the idea of taking Orders as the line of
+least resistance, though when he began the study of theology he said
+that he had found the one subject he really cared for. But he had
+derived a very strong half-religious, half-artistic impression from
+reading John Inglesant just before he came up to Cambridge. He could
+long after repeat many passages by heart, and he says that a
+half-mystical, half-emotional devotion to the Person of Our Lord, which
+he derived from the book, seemed to him to focus and concentrate all his
+vague religious emotions. He attended the services at King's Chapel
+regularly, but he says that he had no real religious life, and only
+looked forward to being a country clergyman with a beautiful garden, an
+exquisite choir, and a sober bachelor existence.</p>
+
+<p>It was on an evening walk at Addington with my mother that he told her
+of his intention to take Orders. They had gone together to evensong at a
+neighbouring church, Shirley, and as they came back in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> the dusk through
+the silent woods of the park, he said he believed he had received the
+call, and had answered, "Here am I, send me!" My mother had the words
+engraved on the inside of a ring, which Hugh wore for many years.</p>
+
+<p>By far the closest and dearest of all the ties which bound Hugh to
+another was his love for my mother. Though she still lives to bless us,
+I may say this, that never did a mother give to her children a larger
+and a wiser love than she gave to us; she was our playmate and
+companion, but we always gave her a perfectly trustful and unquestioning
+obedience. Yet it was always a reasonable and critical obedience. She
+never exacted silent submission, but gave us her reasons readily. She
+never curtailed our independence, or oppressed us with a sense of
+over-anxiety. She never demanded confidence, but welcomed it with
+perfect, understanding.</p>
+
+<p>The result, of this with Hugh was that he came to consult her about
+everything, about his plans, his schemes, his books, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> beliefs. He
+read all his writings aloud to her, and deferred much to her frankly
+critical mind and her deeply human insight. At the time when he was
+tending towards Rome, she accompanied him every step of the way, though
+never disguising from him her own differences of opinion and belief. It
+was due to her that he suspended his decision, read books, consulted
+friends, gave the old tradition full weight; he never had the misery of
+feeling that she was overcome by a helpless distress, because she never
+attempted to influence any one of us away from any course we thought it
+right to pursue. She did not conceal her opinion, but wished Hugh to
+make up his own mind, believing that everyone must do that, and that the
+only chance of happiness lies there.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_76" id="i_76"></a><img src="images/76.jpg" width="400" height="597" alt="MRS. BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by H. Walter Barnett, 12 Knightsbridge, S.W.</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">MRS. BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">MAY, 1910</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>There was no one in the world whom he so regarded and admired and loved;
+but yet it was not merely a tender and deferential sentiment. He laid
+his mind open before her, and it was safe to do that, because my mother
+never had any wish to prevail by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> sentiment or by claiming loyalty. He
+knew that she would be perfectly candid too, with love waiting behind
+all conflict of opinion. And thus their relation was the most perfect
+that could be imagined, because he knew that he could speak and act with
+entire freedom, while he recognised the breadth and strength of her
+mind, and the insight of her love. No one can really understand Hugh's
+life without a knowledge of what my mother was to him&mdash;an equal friend,
+a trusted adviser, a candid critic, and a tender mother as well. And
+even when he went his own way, as he did about health and work, though
+she foresaw only too clearly what the end might be, and indeed what it
+actually was, she always recognised that he had a right to live as he
+chose and to work as he desired. She was not in the least blind to his
+lesser faults of temperament, nor did she ever construct an artificial
+image of him. My family has, I have no doubt, an unusual freedom of
+mutual criticism. I do not think we have ever felt it to be disloyal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> to
+see each other in a clear light. But I am inclined to believe that the
+affection which subsists without the necessity of cherishing illusions,
+has a solidity about it which more purely sentimental loyalties do not
+always possess. And I have known few relations so perfect as those
+between Hugh and my mother, because they were absolutely tender and
+chivalrous, and at the same time wholly candid, natural, and open-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this time that my eldest sister died quite suddenly of
+diphtheria. I have told something of her life elsewhere. She had
+considerable artistic gifts, in music, painting, and writing. She had
+written a novel, and left unpublished a beautiful little book of her own
+experiences among the poor, called <i>Streets and Lanes of the City</i>. It
+was privately printed, and is full of charming humour and delicate
+observation, together with a real insight into vital needs. I always
+believe that my sister would have done a great work if she had lived.
+She had strong practical powers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> a very large heart. She had been
+drawn more and more into social work at Lambeth, and I think would have
+eventually given herself up to such work. She had a wonderful power of
+establishing a special personal relation with those whom she loved, and
+I remember realising after her death that each of her family felt that
+they were in a peculiar and individual relation to her of intimacy and
+confidence. She had sent Hugh from her deathbed a special message of
+love and hope; and this had affected him very much.</p>
+
+<p>We were not allowed to go back at once to our work, Fred, Hugh, and
+myself, because of the possibility of infection; and we went off to
+Seaford together for a few days, where we read, walked, wrote letters,
+and talked. It was a strange time; but Hugh, I recollect, got suddenly
+weary of it, and with the same decision which always characterised him,
+said that he must go to London in order to be near St. Paul's. He went
+off at once and stayed with Arthur Mason. I was struck with this at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+time; he did not think it necessary to offer any explanations or
+reasons. He simply said he could not stand it, quite frankly and
+ingenuously, and promptly disappeared.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
+
+<h3>LLANDAFF</h3>
+
+
+<p>In 1892 Hugh went to read for Orders, with Dean Vaughan, who held the
+Deanery of Llandaff together with the Mastership of the Temple. The Dean
+had been a successful Headmaster of Harrow, and for a time Vicar of
+Doncaster. He was an Evangelical by training and temperament. My father
+had a high admiration for him as a great headmaster, a profound and
+accomplished scholar, and most of all as a man of deep and fervent
+piety. I remember Vaughan's visits to Lambeth. He had the air, I used to
+think, rather of an old-fashioned and highly-bred country clergyman than
+of a headmaster and a Church dignitary. With his rather long hair,
+brushed back, his large, pale face, with its meek and smiling air, and
+his thin, clear, and deliberate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> voice, he gave the impression of a
+much-disciplined, self-restrained, and chastened man. He had none of the
+brisk effectiveness or mundane radiance of a successful man of affairs.
+But this was a superficial view, because, if he became moved or
+interested, he revealed a critical incisiveness of speech and judgment,
+as well as a profound and delicate humour.</p>
+
+<p>He had collected about himself an informal band of young men who read
+theology under his direction. He used to give a daily lecture, but there
+was no college or regular discipline. The men lived in lodgings,
+attended the cathedral service, arranged their own amusements and
+occupations. But Vaughan had a stimulating and magnetic effect over his
+pupils, many of whom have risen to high eminence in the Church.</p>
+
+<p>They were constantly invited to meals at the deanery, where Mrs.
+Vaughan, a sister of Dean Stanley, and as brilliant, vivacious, and
+witty a talker as her brother, kept the circle entranced and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> delighted
+by her suggestive and humorous talk. My brother tells the story of how,
+in one of the Dean's long and serious illnesses, from which he
+eventually recovered, Mrs. Vaughan absented herself one day on a
+mysterious errand, and the Dean subsequently discovered, with intense
+amusement and pleasure, that she had gone to inspect a house in which
+she intended to spend her widowhood. The Dean told the whole story in
+her presence to some of the young men who were dining there, and
+sympathised with her on the suspension of her plans. I remember, too,
+that my brother described to me how, in the course of the same illness,
+Mrs. Vaughan, who was greatly interested in some question of the Higher
+Criticism, had gone to the Dean's room to read to him, and had suggested
+that they should consider and discuss some disputed passage of the Old
+Testament. The Dean gently but firmly declined. Mrs. Vaughan coming
+downstairs, Bible in hand, found a caller in the drawing-room who
+inquired after the Dean.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> "I have just come from him," said Mrs.
+Vaughan, "and it is naturally a melancholy thought, but he seems to have
+entirely lost his faith. He would not let me read the Bible with him; he
+practically said that he had no further interest in the Bible!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh was very happy at Llandaff. He says that he began to read John
+Inglesant again, and explored the surrounding country to see if he could
+find a suitable place to set up a small community house, on the lines of
+Nicholas Ferrar's Little Gidding. This idea was thenceforth much in his
+mind. At this time his day-dream was that it should be not an ascetic
+order, but rather devotional and mystical. It was, I expect, mainly an
+&aelig;sthetic idea at present. The setting, the ceremonial, the order of the
+whole was prominent, with the contemplation of spiritual beauty as the
+central principle. The various strains which went to suggest such a
+scheme are easy to unravel. Hugh says frankly that marriage and
+domesticity always appeared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to him inconceivable, but at the same time
+he was sociable, and had the strong creative desire to forth and express
+a definite conception of life. He had always the artistic impulse to
+translate an idea into visible and tangible shape. He had, I think,
+little real pastoral impulse at this, if indeed at any time, and his
+view was individualistic. The community, in his mind, was to exist not,
+I believe, for discipline or extension of thought, or even for
+solidarity of action; it was rather to be a fortress of quiet for the
+encouragement of similar individual impulses. He used to talk a good
+deal about his plans for the community in these days&mdash;and it is
+interesting to compare with this the fact that I had already written a
+book, never published, about a literary community on the same sort of
+lines, while to go a little further back, it may be remembered that at
+one time my father and Westcott used to entertain themselves with
+schemes for what they called a <i>C&oelig;nobium</i>, which was to be an
+institution in which married<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> priests with their families were to lead a
+common life with common devotions.</p>
+
+<p>But I used to be reminded, in hearing Hugh detail his plans, of the case
+of a friend of ours, whom I will call Lestrange, who had at one time
+entered a Benedictine monastery as a novice. Lestrange used to talk
+about himself in an engaging way in the third person, and I remember him
+saying that the reason why he left the monastery was "because Lestrange
+found that he could only be an inmate of a monastery in which Lestrange
+was also Abbot!" I did not feel that in Hugh's community there would be
+much chance of the independent expression of the individualities of his
+associates!</p>
+
+<p>He was ordained deacon in 1894 at Addington, or rather in Croydon parish
+church, by my father, whose joy in admitting his beloved son to the
+Anglican ministry was very great indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Before the ordination Hugh decided to go into solitary retreat. He took
+two rooms in the lodge-cottage of Burton Park,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> two or three miles out
+of Lincoln. I suppose he selected Lincoln as a scene endeared to him by
+childish memories.</p>
+
+<p>He divided the day up for prayer, meditation, and solitary walks, and
+often went in to service in the cathedral. He says that he was in a
+state of tense excitement, and the solitude and introspection had an
+alarmingly depressing effect upon him. He says that the result of this
+was an appalling mental agony: "It seemed to me after a day or two that
+there was no truth in religion, that Jesus Christ was not God, that the
+whole of life was an empty sham, and that I was, if not the chiefest of
+sinners, at any rate the most monumental of fools." He went to the
+Advent services feeling, he says, like a soul in hell. But matters
+mended after that, and the ordination itself seemed to him a true
+consecration. He read the Gospel, and he remembered gratefully the
+sermon of Canon Mason, my father's beloved friend and chaplain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ETON MISSION</h3>
+
+
+<p>There were many reasons why Hugh should begin his clerical work at
+Hackney Wick, though I suspect it was mainly my father's choice. It was
+a large, uniformly poor district, which had been adopted by Eton in
+about 1880 as the scene of its Mission. There were certain disadvantages
+attending the choice of that particular district. The real <i>raison
+d'&ecirc;tre</i> of a School Mission is educative rather than philanthropic, in
+order to bring boys into touch with social problems, and to give them
+some idea that the way of the world is not the way of a prosperous and
+sheltered home. It is open to doubt whether it is possible to touch
+boys' hearts and sympathies much except by linking a School Mission on
+to some institution for the care of boys&mdash;an orphan school or a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+training ship. Only the most sensitive are shocked and distressed by the
+sight of hard conditions of life it all, and as a rule boys have an
+extraordinarily unimaginative way of taking things as they see them, and
+not thinking much or anxiously about mending them.</p>
+
+<p>In any case the one aim ought to be to give boys a personal interest in
+such problems, and put them in personal touch with them. But the Eton
+Mission was planted in a district which it was very hard to reach from
+Eton, so that few of the boys were ever able to make a personal
+acquaintance with the hard and bare conditions of life in the crowded
+industrial region which their Mission was doing so much to help and
+uplift, or to realise the urgency of the needs of a district which most
+of them had never visited.</p>
+
+<p>But if the Mission did not touch the imagination of the boys, yet, on
+the other hand, it became a very well-managed parish, with ample
+resources to draw upon; and it certainly attracted the services of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+number of old Etonians, who had reached a stage of thought at which the
+problem of industrial poverty became an interesting one.</p>
+
+<p>Money was poured out upon the parish; a magnificent church was built, a
+clergy-house was established, curates were subsidised, clubs were
+established, and excellent work was done there. The vicar at this time
+was a friend and contemporary of my own at Eton, St. Clair Donaldson,
+now Archbishop of Brisbane. He had lived with us as my father's chaplain
+for a time, but his mind was set on parish work rather than
+administration. He knew Hugh well, and Hugh was an Etonian himself.
+Moreover, my father was glad that Hugh should be with a trusted friend,
+and so he went there. St. Clair Donaldson was a clergyman of an
+Evangelical type, though the Mission had been previously conducted by a
+very High Churchman, William Carter, the present Archbishop of Capetown.
+But now distinctive High Church practices were given up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> the parish
+was run on moderate, kindly, and sensible lines. Whether such an
+institution is primarily and distinctively religious may be questioned.
+Such work is centred rather upon friendly and helpful relations, and
+religion becomes one of a number of active forces, rather than the force
+upon which all depends. High-minded, duty-loving, transparently good and
+cheerful as the tone of the clergy was, it was, no doubt, tentative
+rather than authoritative.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh's work there lay a good deal in the direction of the boys' clubs;
+he used to go down to the clubs, play and talk with the boys, and go out
+with them on Saturday afternoons to football and cricket. But he never
+found it a congenial occupation, and I cannot help feeling that it was
+rather a case of putting a very delicate and subtle instrument to do a
+rough sort of work. What was needed was a hearty, kindly,
+elder-brotherly relation, and the men who did this best were the
+good-natured and robust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> men with a generic interest in the young, who
+could set a clean-minded, wholesome, and hearty example. But Hugh was
+not of this type. His mind was full of mystical and poetical ideas of
+religion, and his artistic nature was intent upon expressing them. He
+was successful in a way, because he had by this time a great charm of
+frankness and simplicity; he never had the least temptation to draw
+social distinctions, but he desired to find people personally
+interesting. He used to say afterwards that he did not really believe in
+what involved a sort of social condescension, and, like another incisive
+missioner, he thought that the giving up a few evenings a week by
+wealthy and even fashionable young-men, however good-hearted and
+earnest, to sharing the amusements of the boys of a parish, was only a
+very uncomfortable way of showing the poor how the rich lived! There is
+no sort of doubt about the usefulness and kindliness of such work, and
+it obviously is one of the experiments which may tend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> to create social
+sympathy: but Hugh came increasingly to believe that the way to lead
+boys to religion was not through social gatherings, but by creating a
+strong central nucleus of Christian instruction and worship; his heart
+was certainly not in his work at this time, though there was much that
+appealed to him particularly to his sense of humour, which was always
+strongly developed.</p>
+
+<p>There was an account he gave of a funeral he had to conduct in the early
+days of his work, where, after a large congregation had assembled in the
+church, the arrival of the coffin itself was delayed, and he was asked
+to keep things going. He gave out hymns, he read collects, he made a
+short address, and still the undertaker at the door shook his head. At
+last he gave out a hymn that was not very well known, and found that the
+organist had left his post, whereupon he sang it alone, as an
+unsustained solo.</p>
+
+<p>He told me, too, that after preaching written sermons, he resolved to
+try an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> extempore one. He did so with much nervousness and hesitation.
+The same evening St. Clair Donaldson said to him kindly but firmly that
+preachers were of two kinds&mdash;the kind that could write a fairly coherent
+discourse and deliver it more or less impressively, and the kind that
+might venture, after careful preparation, to speak extempore; and that
+he felt bound to tell Hugh that he belonged undoubtedly to the first
+kind. This was curious, because Hugh afterwards became, by dint of
+trouble and practice, a quite remarkably distinguished and impressive
+preacher. Indeed, even before he left the Church of England, the late
+Lord Stanmore, who was an old friend of my father's, said to me that he
+had heard all the great Anglican preachers for many years, and that he
+had no hesitation in putting my brother in the very first rank.</p>
+
+<p>However his time was very full; the parish was magnificently organised;
+besides the clubs there were meetings of all sorts, very systematic
+visiting, a ladies'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> settlement, plays acted by children, in which Hugh
+took a prominent part both in composing the libretto and rehearsing the
+performances, coaching as many as seventy children at a time.</p>
+
+<p>He went to a retreat given by a Cowley Father in the course of his time
+at the Eton Mission, and heard Father Maturin unfold, with profound
+enthusiasm and inspiring eloquence, a scheme of Catholic doctrine,
+worship, and practice, laying especial stress on Confession. These ideas
+began to take shape in Hugh's mind, and he came to the conclusion that
+it was necessary in a place like London, and working among the harassed
+and ill-educated poor, to <i>materialise</i> religion&mdash;that is to say, to fit
+some definite form, rite, symbol, and practice to religious emotion. He
+thought that the bright, dignified, and stately adjuncts of worship,
+such as they had at the Eton Mission, were not adequate to awaken the
+sense of the personal and intimate relation between man and God.</p>
+
+<p>In this belief he was very possibly right.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> Of course the dangers of the
+theory are obvious. There is the ultimate danger of what can fairly be
+called superstition, that is to say giving to religion a magical kind of
+influence over the material side of life. Rites, relics, images tend to
+become, in irrational minds, invested with an inherent and mechanical
+sanctity, instead of being the symbols of grace. But it is necessary to
+risk something; and though the risk of what may be called a sort of
+idolatry is great, the risk of not arousing the sense of personal
+religion at all is greater still.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh's ordination as a priest followed in 1895; and he then made a full
+confession before a clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>In 1896, in October, my father, who had paid a state visit to Ireland,
+on his return went to stay with Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden, and died
+there in church on a Sunday morning.</p>
+
+<p>I can never forget the events of that terrible day. I received a
+telegram at Eton which summoned me to Hawarden, but did not state
+explicitly that my father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> was dead. I met Hugh at Euston, who told me
+the fact, and I can recollect walking up and down the half-deserted
+station with him, in a state of deep and bewildered grief. The days
+which followed were so crowded with business and arrangements, that even
+the sight of my father's body, lying robed and still, and palely
+smiling, in the great library of the rectory failed to bring home to me
+the sense that his fiery, eager, strenuous life was over. I remember
+that Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone came to the church with us, and that Hugh
+celebrated and gave us the Communion. But the day when we travelled
+south with the coffin, the great pomp at Canterbury, which was attended
+by our present King and the present King of Norway, when we laid him to
+rest in a vault under the north-western tower, and the days of hurried
+and crowded business at Addington are still faint and dream-like to me.</p>
+
+<p>My mother and sister went out to Egypt for the winter; Hugh's health
+broke down; he was threatened with rheumatic fever,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> and was ordered to
+go out with them. It was here that he formed a very close and intimate
+companionship with my sister Maggie, and came to rely much on her tender
+sympathy and wise advice. He never returned to the Eton Mission.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
+
+<h3>KEMSING AND MIRFIELD</h3>
+
+
+<p>The change proved very beneficial to Hugh; but it was then, with
+returning health and leisure for reflection, that he began to consider
+the whole question of Anglicanism and Catholicism. He describes some of
+the little experiences which turned his mind in this direction. He
+became aware of the isolation and what he calls the "provincialism" of
+the Anglican Church. He saw many kinds of churches and varieties of
+worship. He went on through the Holy Land, and at Jerusalem celebrated
+the Communion in the Chapel of Abraham; at Damascus he heard with a sort
+of horror of the submission of Father Maturin to Rome. In all this his
+scheme of a religious community revived. The ceremonial was to be
+Caroline. "We were to wear no eucharistic vestments, but full sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>plices
+and black scarves, and were to do nothing in particular."</p>
+
+<p>When he returned, he went as curate to Kemsing, a village in Kent. It
+was decided that for the sake of his health his work must be light. The
+Rector, Mr. Skarratt, was a wealthy man; he had restored the church
+beautifully, and had organised a very dignified and careful musical
+service. Hugh lived with him at the vicarage, a big, comfortable house,
+with a succession of interesting guests. He had a very happy year,
+devoting much attention to preaching, and doing a great deal of work
+among the children, for which he had a quite singular gift. He had a
+simple and direct way with them, equally removed from both petting and
+authoritativeness. His own natural childlikeness came out&mdash;and indeed
+all his life he preserved the innocence, the impulsiveness, the mingled
+impatience and docility of a child more than any man I ever saw.</p>
+
+<p>I remember a conversation I had with Hugh about this time. An offer had
+been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> made to him, through me, of an important country living. He said
+that he was extraordinarily happy at Kemsing but that he was too
+comfortable&mdash;he needed more discipline. He said further that he was
+beginning to find that he had the power of preaching, and that it was in
+this direction rather than in the direction of pastoral activity that
+his life was going to lie.</p>
+
+<p>It was rather a pettish conversation. I asked him whether he might not
+perhaps find the discipline he needed in doing the pastoral work which
+did not interest him, rather than in developing his life on lines which
+he preferred. I confess that it was rather a priggish line to take; and
+in any case it did not come well from me because as a schoolmaster I
+think I always pursued an individualistic line, and worked hard on my
+own private basis of preferences rather than on the established system
+of the school. But I did not understand Hugh at this date. It is always
+a strain to find one whom one has always regarded as a boy, almost as a
+child, holding strong and defi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>nitely matured views. I thought him
+self-absorbed and wilful&mdash;as indeed he was&mdash;but he was pursuing a true
+instinct and finding his real life.</p>
+
+<p>He then received an invitation to become a mission preacher, and went to
+consult Archbishop Temple about it. The Archbishop told him, bluffly and
+decisively, that he was far too young, and that before he took it upon
+himself to preach to men and women he ought to have more experience of
+their ways and hearts.</p>
+
+<p>But Hugh with his usual independence was not in the least daunted. He
+had an interview with Dr. Gore, now Bishop of Oxford, who was then Head
+of the House of the Resurrection at Mirfield, and was accepted by him as
+a probationer in the Community. Hugh went to ask leave of Archbishop
+Maclagan, and having failed with one Primate succeeded with another.</p>
+
+<p>The Community of the Resurrection was established by Bishop Gore as an
+Anglican house more or less on Benedictine lines. It acquired a big
+house among gardens, built,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> I believe, by a wealthy manufacturer. It
+has since been altered and enlarged, but Hugh drew an amusing set of
+sketches to illustrate the life there, in which it appears a rueful and
+rather tawdry building, of yellow stone and blue slate, of a shallow and
+falsetto Gothic, or with what maybe called Gothic sympathies. It is at
+Mirfield, near Bradford, in the Calder valley; the country round full of
+high chimneys, and the sky much blurred with smoke, but the grounds and
+gardens were large, and suited to a spacious sort of retirement. From
+the same pictures I gather that the house was very bare within and
+decidedly unpleasing, with no atmosphere except that of a denuded
+Victorian domesticity.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the Brothers were occupied in definitely erudite work, editing
+liturgical, expository, and devotional works; and for these there was a
+large and learned library. The rest were engaged in evangelistic mission
+work with long spaces of study and devotion, six months roughly being
+assigned to outside activities, and six to Community<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> life. The day
+began early, the Hours were duly recited. There was work in the morning
+and after tea, with exercise in the afternoon. On Saturday a chapter was
+held, with public confession, made kneeling, of external breaches of the
+rule. Silence was kept from Compline, at ten o'clock, until the next
+day's midday meal; there was manual work, wood-chopping, coal-breaking,
+boot-cleaning and room-dusting. For a long time Hugh worked at
+step-cutting in the quarry near the house, which was being made into a
+garden. The members wore cassocks with a leather belt. They were called
+"Father" and the head of the house was "Senior" or "Superior."</p>
+
+<p>The vows were simple, of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but were
+renewed annually for a period of thirteen months, accompanied by an
+expression of an intention, only, to remain in the community for life.
+As far as I remember, if a Brother had private means, he was bound to
+hand over his income but not his capital, while he was a member, and the
+copyright of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> books written during membership belonged absolutely to
+the Community. Hugh wrote the book of mystical stories, <i>The Light
+Invisible</i>, at this time; it had a continuous sale, and he used
+humorously to lament the necessity of handing over the profits to the
+Order, long after he had left it and joined the Church of Rome. The
+Brothers were not allowed, I think, to possess any personal property,
+and received clothing and small luxuries either as gifts, or purchased
+them through orders from the Bursar. Our dear old family nurse, Beth, to
+whom Hugh was as the apple of her eye, used to make him little presents
+of things that he needed&mdash;his wardrobe was always scanty and
+threadbare&mdash;and would at intervals lament his state of destitution. "I
+can't bear to think of the greedy creatures taking away all the
+gentlemen's things!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a chapel in the house, of a High Anglican kind, where
+vestments and incense were used, and plainsong sung. There were about
+fourteen Brothers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hugh was obviously and delightfully happy at Mirfield. I remember well
+how he used to describe the pleasure of returning to it from a Mission,
+the silence, the simplicity of the life, the liberty underlying the
+order and discipline. The tone of the house was admirably friendly and
+kindly, without gossip, bickering or bitterness, and Hugh found himself
+among cheerful and sympathetic companions, with the almost childlike
+mirthfulness which comes of a life, strict, ascetic, united, and free
+from worldly cares. He spent his first two years in study mainly, and
+extended his probation. It illustrates the fact that he was acquainting
+himself strangely little with current theological thought that the cause
+of his delay was that he was entirely taken aback by a sermon of Dr.
+Gore's on the Higher Criticism. The whole idea of it was completely
+novel to Hugh, and upset him terribly, so that he thought he could
+hardly recover his balance. Neither then nor later had he the smallest
+sympathy with or interest in Modernism. Finally he took the vows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> in
+1901; my mother was present. He was installed, his hand kissed by the
+Brethren, and he received the Communion in entire hopefulness and
+happiness. I was always conscious, in those days, that Hugh radiated an
+atmosphere of intense rapture and ecstasy about him: the only drawback
+was that, in his rare visits to home, he was obviously pining to be back
+at Mirfield.</p>
+
+<p>Then his work began; and he says that refreshed and reinvigorated as
+they were before going on a Mission, by long, quiet, and careful
+preparation, they used to plunge into their work with ardent and eager
+enthusiasm. The actual mission work was hard. Hugh records that once
+after a Mission in London they spent four days in interviewing people
+and hearing confessions for eleven hours a day, with occasional sermons
+interspersed.</p>
+
+<p>At times some of the Brothers went into residence at Westminster, in Dr.
+Gore's house&mdash;he was a Canon of the Abbey&mdash;and there Hugh preached his
+only sermon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> in the Abbey. But he was now devoting himself to Mission
+preaching, and perfecting his system. He never thought very highly of
+his gift of exposition. "I have a certain facility in preaching, but not
+much," he once said, adding, "I have far more in writing." And I have
+heard him say often that, if he let himself go in preaching, his
+tendency was to become vulgar. I have in my possession hundreds of his
+skeleton notes. They consist of the main points of his argument, written
+out clearly and underlined, with a certain amount of the texture
+indicated, sentence-summaries, epigrammatic statements, dicta, emphatic
+conclusions. He attained his remarkable facility by persistent,
+continuous, and patient toil; and a glance at his notebooks and
+fly-leaves would be the best of lessons for anyone who was tempted to
+depend upon fluid and easy volubility. He used to say that, after long
+practice, a sermon would fall into shape in a very few moments; and I
+remember his once taking carefully written address of my own,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+summarising and denuding it, and presenting me with a little skeleton of
+its essence, which he implored me to use; though I had not the courage
+to do so. He said, too, that he believed that he could teach anyone of
+ordinary brain-power and choice of language to preach extempore on these
+lines in six months, if only he would rigidly follow his method. His
+arguments, in the course of his sermons, did not always seem to me very
+cogent; but his application of them was always most clear and effective.
+You always knew exactly what he was driving at, and what point he had
+reached; if it was not good logic, it was extremely effective logic, and
+you seemed to run hand in hand with him. I remember a quite admirable
+sermon he preached at Eton at this date&mdash;it was most simple and moving.
+But at the same time the effect largely depended upon a grace of which
+he was unconscious&mdash;quaint, naive, and beautiful phrasing, a fine
+poetical imagination, tiny word-pictures, and a youthful and impetuous
+charm. His ges<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>tures at that time were free and unconstrained, his voice
+resonant, appealing, and clear.</p>
+
+<p>He used to tell innumerable stories of his sermon adventures. There was
+a story of a Harvest Festival sermon near Kemsing, in the days when he
+used a manuscript; he found on arriving at the church that he had left
+it behind him, and was allowed to remain in the vestry during the
+service, writing out notes on the inside of envelopes torn open, with
+the stump of a pencil which would only make marks at a certain angle.
+The service proceeded with a shocking rapidity, and when he got to the
+pulpit, spread out his envelopes, and addressed himself to the
+consideration of the blessings of the Harvest, he found on drawing to an
+end that he had only consumed about four minutes. He went through the
+whole again, slightly varying the phraseology, and yet again repeated
+the performance; only to find, on putting on his coat, that the
+manuscript was in his pocket all the time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He used to say that the most nervous experience in the world was to go
+into a street or market-place of a town where he was to hold a Mission
+with open-air sermons, and there, without accompaniment, and with such
+scanty adherents as he could muster, strike up a hymn. By-standers would
+shrug their shoulders and go away smiling. Windows would be opened,
+figures would lean out, and presently withdraw again, slamming the
+casement.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh was always extremely nervous before a sermon. He told me that when
+he was about to preach, he did not generally go in for the service, but
+remained in the vestry until the sermon; and that he would lie on a sofa
+or sit in a chair, in agonies of nervousness, with actual attacks of
+nausea, and even sickness at times, until he was summoned, feeling that
+he could not possibly get through. This left him after speaking a few
+words: but he also maintained that on the rare occasions when he felt
+quite confident and free from nervous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>ness, the result was a failure: he
+said that a real anxiety as to the effect of the sermon was a necessary
+stimulus, and evoked a mental power which confidence was apt to leave
+dormant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CHANGE</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh has himself traced in full detail, in his book <i>The Confessions of
+a Convert</i>, how he gradually became convinced that it was his duty to
+make his submission to the Church of Rome; and I will not repeat the
+story here. But I can recall very distinctly the period during which he
+was making up his mind. He left Mirfield in the early summer of 1903, so
+that when I came home for the summer holidays, he was living there. I
+had myself just accepted from King Edward the task of editing Queen
+Victoria's letters, and had resigned my Eton mastership. Hugh was then
+engaged in writing his book <i>By What Authority</i> with inconceivable
+energy and the keenest possible enjoyment. His absorption in the work
+was extraordinary. He was reading historical books and any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> books
+bearing on the history of the period, taking notes, transcribing. I have
+before me a large folio sheet of paper on which he has written very
+minutely hundreds of picturesque words and phrases of the time, to be
+worked into the book. He certainly soaked himself in the atmosphere of
+the time, and I imagine that the details are correct, though as he had
+never studied history scientifically, I expect he is right in saying
+that the mental atmosphere which he represented as existing in
+Elizabethan times was really characteristic of a later date. He said of
+the book: "I fear it is the kind of book which anyone acquainted with
+the history, manners, and customs of the Elizabethan age should find no
+difficulty in writing." He found many faults subsequently with the
+volume, but he convinced himself at the time that the Anglican
+post-Reformation Church had no identity or even continuity with the
+pre-Reformation Church.</p>
+
+<p>He speaks of himself as undergoing an experience of great unhappiness
+and unrest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Undoubtedly leaving the Mirfield Community was a painful
+severance. He valued a friendly and sympathetic atmosphere very much,
+and he was going to migrate from it into an unknown society, leaving his
+friends behind, with a possibility of suspicion, coldness, and
+misunderstanding. It was naturally made worse by the fact that all my
+father's best and oldest friends were Anglicans, who by position and
+tradition would be likely to disapprove most strongly of the step, and
+even feel it, if not an aspersion on my father's memory, at all events a
+disloyal and unfilial act&mdash;as indeed proved to be the case. But I doubt
+if these considerations weighed very much with Hugh. He was always
+extremely independent of criticism and disapproval, and though he knew
+many of my father's friends, through their visits to our house, he had
+not made friends with them on his own account&mdash;and indeed he had always
+been so intent on the life he was himself leading, that he had never
+been, so to speak, one of the Nethinims of the sanc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>tuary; nor had the
+dependent and discipular attitude, the reverential attachment to
+venerable persons, been in the least congenial to him. He had always
+rather effaced himself in the presence of our ecclesiastical visitors,
+and had avoided the constraint of their dignity. Indeed, up to this time
+he had not much gone in search of personal relationships at all except
+with equals and contemporaries.</p>
+
+<p>But the ignorance of the world he was about to enter upon was a more
+serious factor in his outlook. He knew that he would have to enter
+submissively and humbly an entirely strange domain, that he would have
+to join a chilly and even suspicious circle&mdash;for I suppose a convert to
+any new faith is apt to be regarded, until he is fully known, as
+possibly weak, indeterminate, and fluctuating, and to be treated with
+compassion rather than admiration. With every desire to be sympathetic,
+people in conscious possession of security and certainty are naturally
+inclined to regard a claimant as bent on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> acquisition rather than as a
+hero eager for self-sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly Hugh's dejection, which I think was reserved for his tired
+moments, was not apparent. To me, indeed, he appeared in the light of
+one intent on a great adventure, with all the rapture of confidence and
+excitement about him. As my mother said, he went to the shelter of his
+new belief as a lover might run to the arms of his beloved. Like the
+soldier in the old song, he did not linger, but "gave the bridle-reins a
+shake." He was not either melancholy or brooding. He looked very well,
+he was extremely active in mind and in body.</p>
+
+<p>I find the following extract from my diary of August:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>August</i> 1903.&mdash;In the afternoon walked with Hugh the Paxhill round.
+Hugh is in very good cheerful spirits, steering in a high wind straight
+to Rome, writing a historical novel, full of life and jests and laughter
+and cheerfulness; not creeping in, under the shadow of a wall, sobbing
+as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> old cords break; but excited, eager, jubilant, enjoying."</p>
+
+<p>His room was piled with books and papers; he used to rush into meals
+with the glow of suspended energy, eat rapidly and with appetite&mdash;I have
+never seen a human being who ate so fast and with so little preference
+as to the nature of what he ate&mdash;then he would sit absorbed for a
+moment, and ask to be excused, using the old childish formula: "May I
+get down?" Sometimes he would come speeding out of his room, to read
+aloud a passage he had written to my mother, or to play a few chords on
+the piano. He would not as a rule join in games or walks&mdash;he went out
+for a short, rapid walk by himself, a little measured round, and flew
+back to his work. He generally, I should think, worked about eight hours
+a day at this time. In the evening he would play a game of cards after
+dinner, and would sit talking in the smoking-room, rapidly consuming
+cigarettes and flicking the ash off with his forefinger. He was also, I
+remember, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> argumentative. He said once of himself that he was
+perpetually quarrelling with his best friends. He was a most experienced
+coat-trailer! My mother, my sister, my brother, Miss Lucy Tait who lives
+with us, and myself would find ourselves engaged in heated arguments,
+the disputants breathing quickly, muttering unheeded phrases, seeking in
+vain for a loophole or a pause. It generally ended by Hugh saying with
+mournful pathos that he could not understand why everyone set on
+him&mdash;that he never argued in any other circle, and he could only entreat
+to be let alone. It is true that we were accustomed to argue questions
+of every kind with tenacity and even with invective. But the fact that
+these particular arguments always dealt with the inconsistencies and
+difficulties of ecclesiastical institutions revealed their origin. The
+fact was that at this time Hugh was accustomed to assert with much
+emphasis some extremely provocative and controversial position. He was
+markedly scornful of Anglican faults and manner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>isms, and behaved both
+then and later as if no Anglicans could have any real and vital belief
+in their principles, but must be secretly ashamed of them. Yet he was
+acutely sensitive himself, and resented similar comments; he used to
+remind me of the priest who said to Stevenson "Your sect&mdash;for it would
+be doing it too much honour to call it a religion," and was then pained
+to be thought discourteous or inconsiderate.</p>
+
+<p>Discourteous, indeed, Hugh was not. I have known few people who could
+argue so fiercely without personal innuendo. But, on the other hand, he
+was both triumphant and sarcastic. There was an occasion at a later date
+when he advanced some highly contestable points as assumptions, and my
+aunt, Mrs. Henry Sidgwick, in an agony of rationality, said to him, "But
+these things are surely matters of argument, Hugh?" To which Hugh
+replied, "Well, you see, I have the misfortune, as you regard it, of
+belonging to a Church which happens to know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Here is another extract from my diary at this time:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>August</i> 1903.&mdash;At dinner Hugh and I fell into a fierce argument, which
+became painful, mainly, I think, because of Hugh's vehemence and what I
+can only call violence. He reiterates his consciousness of his own
+stupidity in an irritating way. The point was this. He maintained that
+it was uncharitable to say, 'What a bad sermon So-and-so preached,' and
+not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the sickening stuff
+one generally hears'; uncharitable to say, 'What nasty soup this is!'
+and not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the filthy pigwash
+generally called soup.' I maintained that to say that, one must have
+particular soups in one's mind; and that it was abusing more sermons and
+soups, and abusing them more severely, than if one found fault with one
+soup or one sermon.</p>
+
+<p>"But it was all no use. He was very impatient if one joined issue at any
+point, and said that he was interrupted. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> dragged all sorts of red
+herrings over the course, the opinions of Roman theologians, and
+differences between mortal and venial sin, &amp;c. I don't think he even
+tried to apprehend my point of view, but went off into a long rigmarole
+about distinguishing between the sin and the sinner; and said that it
+was the sin one ought to blame, not the sinner. I maintained that the
+consent of the sinner's will was of the essence of the sin, and that the
+consent of the will of the sinner to what was not in itself wrong was
+the essence of sin&mdash;<i>e.g.</i> not sinful to drink a glass of wine, but,
+sinful if you had already had enough.</p>
+
+<p>"It was rather disagreeable; but I get so used to arguing with absolute
+frankness with people at Eton that I forget how unpleasant it may sound
+to hearers&mdash;and it all subsided very quickly, like a boiling pot."</p>
+
+<p>I remember, too, at a later date, that he produced some photographs of
+groups of, I think, Indian converts at a Roman Catholic Mission, and
+stated that anyone who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> had eyes to see could detect which of them had
+been baptized by the expression of their faces. It was, of course, a
+matter which it was impossible to bring to the test; but he would not
+even admit that catechumens who were just about to be baptized could
+share the same expression as those who actually had been baptized. This
+was a good instance of his provocative style. But it was always done
+like a game. He argued deftly, swiftly, and inconclusively, but the
+fault generally lay in his premisses, which were often wild assumptions;
+not in his subsequent argument, which was cogent, logical, and admirably
+quick at finding weak points in his adversary's armour. At the same time
+he was wholly placable. No one could so banish and obliterate from his
+mind the impression of the harshest and fiercest arguments. The
+effervescence of his mind subsided as quickly as it arose. And my whole
+recollection of the period is that he was in a state of great mental and
+spiritual excitement, and that he was experi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>encing to the full the joys
+of combat and action.</p>
+
+<p>While the interest of composition lasted, he remained at home, but the
+book was soon done. He was still using the oratory in the house for
+celebrations, and I believe that he occasionally helped in the services
+of the parish church. The last time I actually heard him preach was at
+the previous Christmas, when the sermon seemed to me both tired and
+hard, as of one whose emotions were strained by an interior strife.</p>
+
+<p>Among his diversions at this time he painted, on the casement windows of
+the oratory, some figures of saints in water-colour. The designs were
+quaint, but in execution they were the least successful things he ever
+did; while the medium he employed was more apt to exclude light than to
+tinge it.</p>
+
+<p>These strange figures became known in the village as "Mrs. Benson's
+dolls." They were far more visible from outside than from within, and
+they looked like fantastic puppets leaning against the panes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> What use
+my mother was supposed to make of them, or why she piled her dolls, tier
+above tier, in an upper window was never explained. Hugh was very
+indignant when their artistic merit was called in question, but later on
+he silently effaced them.</p>
+
+<p>The curious intensity and limitation of Hugh's affections were never
+more exemplified than in his devotion to a charming collie, Roddy,
+belonging to my sister, the most engaging dog I have ever known. Roddy
+was a great truant, and went away sometimes for days and even weeks.
+Game is carefully preserved on the surrounding estates, and we were
+always afraid that Roddy, in his private hunting expeditions, might fall
+a victim to a conscientious keeper's gun, which, alas, was doubtless the
+cause of his final and deeply lamented disappearance. Hugh had a great
+affection for Roddy, and showed it, when he came to Tremans, by keeping
+Roddy constantly at his heels, having him to sleep in his room, and
+never allowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> him out of his sight. For the first day or two Roddy
+enjoyed these attentions, but gradually, as the visit lasted, became
+more and more restive, and was for ever trying to give Hugh the slip;
+moreover, as soon as Hugh went away, Roddy always disappeared for a few
+days to recover his sense of independence and liberty. I can see Hugh
+now walking about in his cassock, with Roddy at his heels; then they
+would join a circle on the lawn, and Roddy would attach himself to some
+other member of the family for a little, but was always sternly whistled
+away by Hugh, when he went back to his room. Moreover, instead of going
+back to the stable to sleep snugly in the straw, which Roddy loved best,
+he had to come to the smoking-room, and then go back to sleep in a
+basket chair in Hugh's bedroom. I can remember Hugh departing at the end
+of his visit, and saying to me, "I know it's no use asking you&mdash;but do
+try to keep an eye on Roddy! It makes me miserable to think of his
+getting into the woods and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> being shot." But he did not think much about
+Roddy in his absence, never asked to take Roddy to Hare Street; nor did
+he manifest deep emotion when he finally disappeared, nor make long
+lamentation for him. Hugh never wasted any time in vain regrets or
+unavailing pathos.</p>
+
+<p>He paid visits to certain friends of my mother's to consult about his
+position. He did this solely out of deference to her wishes, but not, I
+think, with any hope that his purpose would be changed. They were, I
+believe, John Reeve, Rector of Lambeth, a very old and dear friend of
+our family, Bishop Wilkinson, and Lord Halifax. The latter stated his
+position clearly, that the Pope was Vicar of Christ <i>jure ecclesiastico</i>
+but not <i>jure divino</i>, and that it was better to remain an Anglican and
+promote unity so. Hugh had also a painful correspondence with John
+Wordsworth, late Bishop of Salisbury, a very old friend of my father's.
+The Bishop wrote affectionately at first, but eventually became somewhat
+indignant, and told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> Hugh plainly that a few months' work in a slum
+parish would clear his mind of doubt; the correspondence ended by his
+saying emphatically that he regarded conversion almost as a loss of
+sanity. No doubt it was difficult for one of immense patristic and
+theological learning, who was well versed in the historical aspect of
+the affair as well as profoundly conscious of the reality of his own
+episcopal commission, to enter the lists with a son of his old friend.
+But neither sympathy nor harshness could have affected Hugh at this
+time, any more than advice to return could alter the position of a man
+who had taken a leap and was actually flying through the air.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh then went off on a long bicycle tour by himself, dressed as a
+layman. He visited the Carthusian Monastery of St Hugh, near West
+Grinstead, which I afterwards visited in his company. He spent a night
+or two at Chichester, where he received the Communion in the cathedral;
+but he was in an unhappy frame of mind, probably made more acute by
+solitude.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DECISION</h3>
+
+
+<p>By this time we all knew what was about to happen. "When a man's mind is
+made up," says the old Irish proverb, "his feet must set out on the
+way."</p>
+
+<p>Just before my brother made his profession as a Brother of the Mirfield
+Community, he was asked by Bishop Gore whether he was in any danger of
+becoming a Roman Catholic. My brother said honestly, "Not so far as I
+can see." This was in July 1901. In September 1903 he was received into
+the Church of Rome. What was it which had caused the change? It is very
+difficult to say, and though I have carefully read my brother's book,
+the <i>Confessions of a Convert</i>, I find it hard to give a decisive
+answer. I have no intention of taking up a controversial attitude,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> and
+indeed I am little equipped for doing so. It is clear that my brother
+was, and had for some time been, searching for something, let us call it
+a certainty, which he did not find in the Church of England. The
+surprise to me is that one whose religion, I have always thought, ran
+upon such personal and individualistic lines, should not have found in
+Anglicanism the very liberty he most desired. The distinguishing feature
+of Anglicanism is that it allows the largest amount of personal liberty,
+both as regards opinion and also as regards the use of Catholic
+traditions, which is permitted by an ecclesiastical body in the world.
+The Anglican Church claims and exercises very little authority at all.
+Each individual Bishop has a considerable discretionary power, and some
+allow a far wider liberty of action than others. In all cases,
+divergences of doctrine and practice are dealt with by personal
+influence, tact, and compromise, and <i>force majeure</i> is invoked as
+little as possible. In the last hundred years, during which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> there have
+been strong and active movements in various directions in the Church of
+England both towards Catholic doctrine and Latitudinarianism, such
+synodical and legal action as has been taken has generally proved to be
+a mistake. It is hard to justify the system logically and theoretically,
+but it may be said that the methods of the Church have at least been
+national, in the sense that they have suited the national temperament,
+which is independent and averse to coercive discipline. It may, I
+believe, be truly asserted that in England any Church which attempted
+any inquisition into the precise doctrine held by its lay members would
+lose adherents in large numbers. Of late the influence of the English
+Church has been mainly exerted in the cause of social reform, and her
+tendency is more and more to condone divergences of doctrine and opinion
+in the case of her ministers when they are accompanied by spiritual
+fervour and practical activity. The result has certainly been to pacify<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+the intellectual revolt against religious opinion which was in full
+progress some forty years ago. When I myself was at the university some
+thirty years ago, the attitude of pronounced intellectuals against
+religious opinion was contemptuous and even derisive. That is not the
+case now. The instinct for religion is recognised as a vital part of the
+human mind, and though intellectual young men are apt at times to tilt
+against the travesty of orthodoxy which they propound for their own
+satisfaction, there is a far deeper and wider tolerance and even
+sympathy for every form of religious belief. Religion is recognised as a
+matter of personal preference, and the agnostic creed has lost much of
+its aggressive definiteness.</p>
+
+<p>It appears to me that, so far as I can measure the movement of my
+brother's mind, when he decided first to take Orders his religion was of
+a mystical and &aelig;sthetic kind; and I do not think that there is any
+evidence that he really examined the scientific and agnostic position at
+all. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> heart and his sense of beauty were already engaged, and life
+without religion would have scented an impossibility to him. When he
+took Orders, his experience was threefold. At the Eton Mission he was
+confronted by an Anglicanism of a devout and simple kind, which
+concentrated itself almost entirely on the social aspect of
+Christianity, on the love of God and the brotherhood of man. The object
+of the workers there was to create comradeship, and to meet the problems
+of conduct which arose by a faith in the cleansing and uplifting power
+of God. Brotherly love was its first aim.</p>
+
+<p>I do not think that Hugh had ever any real interest in social reform, in
+politics, in causes, in the institutions which aim at the consolidation
+of human endeavour and sympathy. He had no philosophic grasp of history,
+nor was he a student of the psychology of religion. His instincts were
+all individualistic and personal; and indeed I believe that all his life
+he was an artist in the largest sense, in the fact that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> his work was
+the embodiment of dreams, the expression of the beauty which he
+constantly perceived. His ideal was in one sense a larger one than the
+technically artistic ideal, because it embraced the conception of moral
+beauty even more ardently than mere external beauty. The mystical
+element in him was for ever reaching out in search of some Divine
+essence in the world. He was not in search at any time of personal
+relations. He attracted more affection than he ever gave; he rejoiced
+its sympathy and kindred companionship as a flower rejoices in sunshine;
+but I think he had little taste of the baffled suffering which
+accompanies all deep human passion. He once wrote "God has preserved me
+extraordinarily from intimacies with others. He has done this, not I. I
+have longed for intimacies and failed to win them." He had little of the
+pastoral spirit; I do not think that he yearned over unshepherded souls,
+or primarily desired to seek and save the lost. On the other hand he
+responded eagerly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> to any claim made to himself for help and guidance,
+and he was always eager not to chill or disappoint people who seemed to
+need him. But he found little satisfaction in his work at the Eton
+Mission, and I do not think he would ever have been at home there.</p>
+
+<p>At Kemsing, on the other hand, he had an experience of what I may fairly
+call the epicureanism of religion. The influences there were mainly
+&aelig;sthetic; the creation of a circle like that at Kemsing would have been
+impossible without wealth. Beautiful worship, refined enjoyment,
+cultivated companionship were all lavished upon him. But he soon tired
+of this, because it was an exotic thing. It was a little paradise of a
+very innocent kind, from which all harsh and contradictory elements had
+been excluded. But this mere sipping of exquisite flavours became to him
+a very objectless thing, because it corresponded to no real need. I
+believe that if at this time he had discovered his literary gifts, and
+had begun seriously to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> write, he might have been content to remain
+under such conditions, at all events for a time. But he had as yet no
+audience, and had not begun to exercise his creative imagination.
+Moreover, to a nature like Hugh's, naturally temperate and ardent, and
+with no gross or sensuous fibre of any kind, there was a real craving
+for the bareness and cleanness of self-discipline and asceticism. There
+is a high and noble pleasure in some natures towards the reduction and
+disregard of all material claims and limitations, by which a freedom and
+expansiveness of the spirit can be won. Such self-denial gives to the
+soul a freshness and buoyancy which, for those who can pursue it, is in
+itself an ecstasy of delight. And thus Hugh found it impossible to stay
+in an atmosphere which, though exquisitely refined and quiet, yet
+hampered the energy of aspiration and adventure.</p>
+
+<p>And so he came to the Mirfield Community, and for a time found exactly
+what he wanted. The Brotherhood did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> not mainly concern itself with the
+organisation of social reform, while it reduced the complications of
+life to a spare and rigorous simplicity. The question is, why this life,
+which allowed him to apply all his gifts and powers to the work which
+still, I think, was the embodiment of his visions, did not completely
+satisfy him?</p>
+
+<p>I think, in the first place, that it is probable that, though he was not
+conscious of it, the discipline and the subordination of the society did
+not really quite give him enough personal freedom. He continued for a
+time to hanker after community life; he used to say, when he first
+joined the Church of Rome, that he thought he might end as a Carthusian,
+or later on as a Benedictine. But he spoke less and less of this as the
+years went on, and latterly I believe that he ceased to contemplate it,
+except as a possibility in case his powers of speech and writing should
+fail him. I believe that he really, thought perhaps unconsciously,
+desired a freer hand, and that he found that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> community life on the
+whole cramped his individuality. His later life was indeed a complete
+contrast to anything resembling community life; his constant
+restlessness of motion, his travels, his succession of engagements both
+in all parts of England as well as in Rome and America, were really, I
+do not doubt, more congenial to him; while his home life ultimately
+became only his opportunity for intense and concentrated literary work.</p>
+
+<p>But beyond and above that lay the doctrinal question. He sums up what he
+came to believe in a few words, that the Church of Rome was "the
+divinely appointed centre of unity," and he felt the "absolute need of a
+Teaching Church to preserve and to interpret the truths of Christianity
+to each succeeding generation." Once convinced of this, argument
+mattered little. Hugh was entirely fearless, adventurous, and
+independent; he had no ambitions in the ordinary sense of the word; that
+is to say he made no frontal attack upon promotion or respect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> He was
+not what is called a "safe" man; he had neither caution or prudence, nor
+any regard for average opinion. I do not think he ever gave allegiance
+to any personality, nor took any direct influence from anyone. The
+various attempts he made to consult people of different schools of
+thought, all carefully recorded in his <i>Confessions</i>, were made
+courteously and deferentially; but it seems to me that any opposition or
+argument that he encountered only added fuel to the fire, and aroused
+his reason only to combat the suggestions with which he did not
+instinctively agree. Indeed I believe that it was his very isolation,
+his independence, his lack of any real deference to personal authority,
+which carried him into the Church of Rome. One who knew Hugh well and
+indeed loved him said to me a little bitterly that he had become a Roman
+Catholic not because his faith was strong, but because it was weak.
+There was a touch of truth in this. Hugh did with all his heart desire
+to base his life upon some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> impersonal unquestionable certainty; and
+where a more submissive mind might have reposed, as a disciple, upon the
+strength of a master, Hugh required to repose upon something august,
+age-long, overpowering, a great moving force which could not be too
+closely or precisely interrogated, but which was a living and breathing
+reality, a mass of corporate experience, in spite of the inconsistencies
+and irrationalities which must beset any system which has built up a
+logical and scientific creed in eras when neither logic nor science were
+fully understood.</p>
+
+<p>The fundamental difference between Catholicism and Protestantism lies
+ultimately in the old conflict between liberty and discipline, or rather
+in the degree to which each is valued. The most ardent lover of liberty
+has to admit that his own personal inclinations cannot form a
+satisfactory standard of conduct. He must in certain matters subjugate
+his will and his inclination to the prevailing laws and principles and
+beliefs, and he must sacri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>fice his private aims and desires to the
+common interest, even when his reason and will may not be convinced.
+That is a simple matter of compromise, and the sacrifice is made as a
+matter of expediency and duty rather than as a matter of emotion. But
+there are other natures to whom it is essential to live by emotion, and
+to whom it is a relief and delight to submerge their private
+inclinations in some larger national or religious emotion. We have seen
+of late, in the case of Germany, what tremendous strength is generated
+in a nation which can adore a national ideal so passionately that they
+can only believe it to be a blessing to other nations to have the chance
+given them, through devastation and defeat, of contributing to the
+triumph of German ideals. I do not mean that Catholicism is prepared to
+adopt similarly aggressive methods. But what Hugh did not find in
+Anglicanism was a sense of united conviction, a world-policy, a faith in
+ultimate triumph, all of which he found in Catholicism. The Catholic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+believes that God is on his side; the Anglican hopes that he is on the
+side of God. Among Anglicans, Hugh was fretted by having to find out how
+much or how little each believed. Among Catholics, that can be taken for
+granted. They are indeed two different qualities and types of faith, and
+produce, or perhaps express, different types of character. Hugh found in
+the Roman Church the comfort of corporate ideals and corporate beliefs;
+and I frankly admit that the more we became acquainted with Catholicism
+the more did we recognise the strong and simple core of evangelicalism
+within it, the mutual help and counsel, the insistence on reparation as
+the proof of penitence, the insight into simple human needs, the
+paternal indulgence combined with gentle authoritativeness. All this is
+eminently and profoundly Christian. It is not necessary here to say what
+the Anglican does not find in it or at what point it seems to become
+inconsistent with reason and liberty. But I desire to make it clear
+that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> what Hugh needed was an emotional surrender and a sense of
+corporate activity, and that his conversion was not a logical one, but
+the discovery of a force with which his spirit was in unison, and of a
+system which gave him exactly the impetus and the discipline which he
+required.</p>
+
+<p>It is curious to note that Father Tyrell, whom Hugh consulted, said to
+him that he could not receive officially any convert into the Church
+except on terms which were impossible to persons of reason; and this is
+so far true that I do not believe that Hugh's conversion was a process
+of either intellect or reason. I believe that it was a deep instinctive
+and emotional need for a basis of thought so strong and vivid that he
+need not question it. I believe he had long been seeking for such a
+basis, and that he was right to accept it, because he did so in entire
+simplicity and genuineness. My brother was not sceptical nor analytic;
+he needed the repose of a large submission, of obedience to an
+impersonal ideal. His work lay in the presentment of religious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> emotion,
+and for this he needed a definite and specific confidence. In no other
+Church, and least of all in Anglicanism, could this be obtained. I do
+not mean for a moment that Hugh accepted the Catholic faith simply as a
+conscious relief; he was convinced frankly and fully that the Church of
+Christ could not be a divided society, but must have a continuity of
+doctrine and tradition. He believed that to be the Divine plan and
+method. Having done this, his duty and his delight were one. He tasted
+the full joy of obedience, the relief of not having to test, to
+question, to decide; and thus his loyalty was complete, because his
+heart was satisfied, and it was easier to him to mistrust his reason
+rather than to mistrust his heart. He had been swayed to and fro by many
+interests and ardours and influences; he had wandered far afield, and
+had found no peace in symbolism uncertain of what it symbolised, or in
+reason struggling to reconcile infinite contradictions. Now he rowed no
+more against the stream; he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> found no human master to serve, and now
+he had found a great ancient and living force which could bear him on.
+That was, I think, the history of his spiritual change; and of one I am
+sure, that no surrender was ever made so guilelessly, so
+disinterestedly, and in so pure and simple a mood.</p>
+
+<p>He has told the story of his own reception very simply and impressively.
+He wrote to my mother, "It has happened," and I see that he wrote also
+just before it to me. I quote from my diary:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>September 9</i>, 1903.&mdash;Also a note from Hugh, from the Woodchester
+Dominican Convent, saying that he thinks he will be received this week,
+very short but affectionate. He says he won't attempt to say all that is
+in his mind. I replied, saying that I could not wish, knowing how he
+felt, the he should do otherwise&mdash;and I blessed him in a form of words."</p>
+
+<p>It, may be frankly said that however much we regretted his choice, we
+none of us had the slightest wish to fetter it, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> to discourage Hugh
+from following his true and conscientious convictions. One must
+recognise that the sunshine and the rain of God fall in different ways
+and at different times upon those who desire to find Him. I do not
+wholly understand in my mind how Hugh came to make the change, but
+Carlyle speaks truly when he says that there is one moral and spiritual
+law for all, which is that whatever is honestly incredible to a man that
+he may only at his direst peril profess or pretend to believe. And I
+understand in my heart that Hugh had hitherto felt like one out on the
+hillside, with wind and mist about him, and with whispers and voices
+calling out of the mist; and that here he found a fold and a comradeship
+such as he desired to find, and was never in any doubt again. And I am
+sure that he soon began to feel the tranquillity which comes from having
+taken, after much restlessness and anxiety, a hard course and made a
+painful choice.</p>
+
+<p>At first, however, he was deeply conscious of the strain through which
+he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> passed. He wrote to me in answer to the letter mentioned above:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><i>Sept. 23</i>, '03.</p>
+
+<p>... Thank you so very much for your letter. It was delightful to
+get it. I can't tell you what happiness it has been through
+everything to know that you, as well as the others, felt as you
+did: and now your letter comes to confirm it.</p>
+
+<p>There is surprisingly little to say about myself; since you ask&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>I have nothing more than the deepest possible conviction&mdash;no
+emotionalism or sense of relief or anything of the kind.</p>
+
+<p>As regards my plans&mdash;they too are tolerably vague.... All the
+first week I was with the Dominicans&mdash;who, I imagine, will be my
+final destination after two or three years.</p>
+
+<p>... I imagine that I shall begin to read Theology again, in view
+of future Ordination: and either I shall go to Rome at the
+beginning of November; or possibly to Prior Park, near Bath&mdash;a
+school, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> I shall teach an hour a day, and read Theology.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>Mamma and I are meeting in London next week. She really has been
+good to me beyond all words. Her patience and kindness have been
+unimaginable.</p>
+
+<p>Well&mdash;this is a dreary and egotistical letter. But you asked me to
+write about myself.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>Well&mdash;I must thank you again for your extreme kindness&mdash;I really
+am grateful: though I am always dumb about such things when I meet
+people.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I remember taking a walk with Provost Hornby at Eton at this date. My
+diary says:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>October</i> 1903.&mdash;We talked of Hugh. The Provost was very kind and wise.
+He said, 'Such a change is a testimony of sincerity and earnestness'; he
+went on to tell a story which Jowett told him of Dr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> Johnson, who said,
+when a husband and wife of his acquaintance went over to Rome, 'God
+bless them both.' At the end of the walk he said to me, 'When you write
+to your brother, remember me very kindly to him, and give him, as a
+message from me, what Johnson said.' This I thought was beautiful&mdash;more
+than courteous."</p>
+
+<p>I sent this message to Hugh, who was deeply touched by it, and wrote the
+Provost an affectionate and grateful letter.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this he went out to Rome to prepare himself for the Orders
+which he received nine months later. My mother went to see him off. As
+the train went out of the station, and Hugh was lost to view, my mother
+turned round and saw Bishop Wilkinson, one of our dearest friends,
+waiting for her. She had told him before that Hugh was leaving by that
+train, and had asked him to bear both herself and Hugh in mind. He had
+not intruded on the parting, but now he drew my mother's hand into his
+arm and said, "If Hugh's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> father, when he was here on earth, would&mdash;and
+he would&mdash;have always wished him to follow his conscience, how much more
+in Paradise!" and then he went away without another word.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
+
+<h3>CAMBRIDGE AGAIN</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh went to the College of San Silvestro in Rome, and there he found
+many friends. He said that on first joining the Catholic Church, he felt
+like a lost dog; he wrote to me:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><span class="smcap">Rome</span>, <i>Nov. 26</i>, '03.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+
+<p>My own news is almost impossible to tell, as everything is simply
+bewildering: in about five years from now I shall know how I felt;
+but at present I feel nothing but discomfort; I hate foreign
+countries and foreign people, and am finding more every day how
+hopelessly insular I am: because of course, under the
+circumstances, this is the proper place for me to be: but it is a
+kind of dentist's chair.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 15%;' /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But he soon parted once and for all with his sense of isolation; while
+the splendours of Rome, the sense of history and state and world-wide
+dominion, profoundly impressed his imagination. He was deeply inspired,
+too, by the sight of simple and and unashamed piety among the common
+folk, which appeared to him to put the colder and more cautious religion
+of England to shame. Perhaps he did not allow sufficiently for the
+temperamental differences between the two nations, but at any rate he
+was comforted and reassured.</p>
+
+<p>I do not know much of his doings at this time; I was hard at work at
+Windsor on the Queen's letters, and settling into a new life at
+Cambridge; but I realised that he was building up happiness fast. One
+little touch of his perennial humour comes back to my mind. He was
+describing to me some ceremony performed by a very old and absent-minded
+ecclesiastic, and how two priests stood behind him to see that he
+omitted nothing, "With the look in their eyes," said Hugh, "that you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+can see in the eyes of a terrier who is standing with ears pricked at
+the mouth of a burrow, and a rabbit preparing to bolt from within."</p>
+
+<p>He came back a priest, and before long he settled at Cambridge, living
+with Monsignor Barnes at Llandaff House. Monsignor Barnes was an old
+Eton contemporary and friend of my own, who had begun by going to
+Woolwich as a cadet; then he had taken orders in the Church of England,
+and then had joined the Church of Rome, and was put in charge of the
+Roman Catholic undergraduates at Cambridge. Llandaff House is a big,
+rather mysterious mansion in the main street of Cambridge, opposite the
+University Arms Hotel. It was built by the famous Bishop Watson of
+Llandaff, who held a professorship at Cambridge in conjunction with his
+bishopric, and never resided in his diocese at all. The front rooms of
+the big, two-gabled house are mostly shops; the back of the house
+remains a stately little residence, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> chapel, a garden with some
+fine trees, and opens on to the extensive and quiet park of Downing
+College.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh had a room which looked out on to the street, where he did his
+writing. From that date my real friendship with him began, if I may use
+the word. Before that, the difference in our ages, and the fact that I
+was a very busy schoolmaster only paying occasional visits to home, had
+prevented our seeing very much of each other in anything like equal
+comradeship. But at the beginning of 1905 I went into residence at
+Magdalene as a Fellow, and Hugh was often in and out, while I was made
+very welcome at Llandaff House. Hugh had a small income of his own, and
+he began to supplement it by writing. His needs and tastes were all
+entirely simple. He seems to me, remembering him, to have looked
+extremely youthful in those days, smaller in some ways than he did
+later. He moved very rapidly; his health was good and his activity
+great. He made friends at several of the colleges, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> belonged to the
+Pitt Club, and he used to attend meetings of an undergraduates' debating
+club&mdash;the Decemviri&mdash;to which he had himself belonged. One of the
+members of that time has since told me that he was the only older man he
+had ever known who really mixed with undergraduates and debated with
+them on absolutely equal terms. But indeed, so far as looks went, though
+he was now thirty-four, he might almost have been an undergraduate
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>We arranged always to walk together on Sunday afternoons. As an old
+member of King's College, I had a key of the garden there in the Backs,
+and a pass-key of the college gates, which were locked on Sunday during
+the chapel service. We always went and walked about that beautiful
+garden with its winding paths, or sat out in the bowling-green. Then we
+generally let ourselves into the college grounds, and went up to the
+south porch of the chapel, where we could hear the service proceeding
+within. I can remember Hugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> saying, as the Psalms came to an end
+"Anglican double chants&mdash;how comfortable and delicious, and how entirely
+irreligious!"</p>
+
+<p>We talked very freely and openly of all that was in our minds, and
+sometimes even argued on religion. He used to tell me that I was much
+nearer to his form of faith than most Anglicans, and I can remember his
+saying that the misery of being an Anglican was that it was all so
+rational&mdash;you had to make up your mind on every single point. "Why not,"
+he said, "make it up on one point&mdash;the authority of the Church, and have
+done with it?" "Because I can't be dictated to on points in which I feel
+I have a right to an opinion." "Ah, that isn't a faith!" "No, only a
+faith in reason." At which he would shrug his shoulders, and smile. Once
+I remember his exhibiting very strong emotion. I had spoken of the
+worship of the Virgin, and said something that seemed to him to be in a
+spirit of levity. He stopped and turned quite pale. "Ah,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> don't say
+that!" he said; "I feel as if you had said something cynical about
+someone very dear to me, and far more than that. Please promise not to
+speak of it again."</p>
+
+<p>It was in these days that I first perceived the extraordinary charm of
+both mind and manner that he possessed. In old days he had been amusing
+and argumentative enough, but he was often silent and absorbed. I think
+his charm had been developed by his new experiences, and by the number
+of strangers he had been brought into contact with; he had learned an
+eager and winning sort of courtesy, which grew and increased every year.
+On one point we wholly and entirely agreed&mdash;namely, in thinking rudeness
+of any kind to be not a mannerism, but a deadly sin. "I find injustice
+or offensiveness to myself or anyone else," he once wrote, "the hardest
+of all things to forgive." We concurred in detesting the habit of
+licensing oneself to speak one's mind, and the unpleasant English trait
+of confusing sincerity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> with frank brutality. There is a sort of
+Englishman who thinks he has a right, if he feels cross or contemptuous,
+to lay bare his mood without reference to his companion's feelings; and
+this seemed to us both the ugliest of phenomena.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_158" id="i_158"></a><img src="images/158.jpg" width="400" height="557" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Russell &amp; Sons</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1907. AGED 35</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Hugh saw a good deal of academic society in a quiet way&mdash;Cambridge is a
+hospitable place. I remember the consternation which was caused by his
+fainting away suddenly after a Feast at King's. He had been wedged into
+a corner, in front of a very hot fire, by a determined talker, and
+suddenly collapsed. I was fetched out to see him and found him stretched
+on a form in the Hall vestibule, being kindly cared for by the Master of
+a College, who was an eminent surgeon and a professor. Again I remember
+that we entered the room together when dining with a hospitable Master,
+and were introduced to a guest, to his bewilderment, as "Mr. Benson" and
+"Father Benson." "I must explain," said our host, "that Father Benson is
+not Mr. Benson's father!" "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> should have imagined that he might be his
+son!" said the guest.</p>
+
+<p>After Hugh had lived at Llandaff House for a year he accepted a curacy
+at the Roman Catholic church at Cambridge. I do not know how this came
+about. A priest can be ordained "to a bishop," in which case he has to
+go where he is sent, or "on his patrimony," which gives him a degree of
+independence. Hugh had been ordained "on his patrimony," but he was
+advised to take up ministerial work. He accordingly moved into the
+Catholic rectory, a big, red-brick house, with a great cedar in front of
+it, which adjoins the church. He had a large sitting-room, looking out
+at the back over trees and gardens, with a tiny bedroom adjoining. He
+had now the command of more money, and the fitting up of his rooms was a
+great delight to him; he bought some fine old oak furniture, and fitted
+the walls with green hangings, above which he set the horns of deer,
+which he had at various times stalked and shot&mdash;he was always a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> keen
+sportsman. I told him it was too secular an ornament, but he would not
+hear me.</p>
+
+<p>Canon Scott, the rector, the kindest and most hospitable of men,
+welcomed me to the rectory, and I was often there; and our Sunday walks
+continued. Hugh became known at once as the best preacher in Cambridge,
+and great congregations flocked to hear him. I do not think he had much
+pastoral work to do; but now a complication ensued. A good many
+undergraduates used to go to hear him, ask to see him, discuss religious
+problems with him. Moreover, before he left the Anglican communion, Hugh
+had conducted a mission at Cambridge, with the result that several of
+his hearers became Roman Catholics. A certain amount of orthodox alarm
+was felt and expressed at the new and attractive religious element which
+his sermons provided, and eventually representations were made to one
+that I should use my influence with Hugh that he should leave Cambridge.
+This I totally declined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> to do, and suggested that the right way to meet
+it was to get an Anglican preacher to Cambridge of persuasive eloquence
+and force. I did eventually speak to Hugh about it, and he was
+indignant. He said: "I have not attempted, and shall not attempt, any
+sort of proselytisation of undergraduates&mdash;I do not think it fair, or
+even prudent. I have never started the subject of religion on any
+occasion with any undergraduate. But I must preach what I believe; and,
+of course, if undergraduates consult me, I shall tell them what I think
+and why I think it." This rule he strictly adhered to; and I do not know
+of any converts that he made.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, it was at this time that strangers, attracted by his sermons
+and his books, began to consult him by letter, and seek interviews with
+him. In this relation he showed himself, I have reason to know,
+extraordinarily kind, sympathetic, and straightforward. He wrote fully
+and as often as he was consulted; he saw an ever-increasing number of
+inquirers. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> used to groan over the amount of time he had to spend in
+letters and interviews, and he used to say that it often happened that
+the people least worth helping took up the most time. He always gave his
+very best; but the people who most vexed him were those engaged in
+religious inquiry, not out of any profound need, but simply for the
+emotional luxury; and who argued round and round in a circle for the
+pleasure of being sympathised with. Hugh was very clear and practical in
+his counsels, and he was, I used to think, like a wise and even stern
+physician, never influenced by sentiment. It was always interesting to
+discuss a "case" with him. I do not mean that he discussed his cases
+with me, but I used to ask him how to deal with some intellectual or
+moral problem, and his insight seemed to me wonderfully shrewd,
+sensible, and clear. He had a masterly analysis, and a power of seeing
+alternatives and contingencies which always aroused my admiration. He
+was less interested in the personal element than in the psychological;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+and I used to feel that his strength lay in dealing with a case
+scientifically and technically. Sometimes he had desperate, tragic, and
+even alarming cases to deal with; and here his fearlessness and
+toughness stood him in good stead. He never shrank appalled before any
+moral enormity. He told me once of a series of interviews he had with a
+man, not a Catholic, who appealed to him for help in the last extremity
+of moral degradation. He became aware at last that the man was insane,
+but he spared no pains to rescue him.</p>
+
+<p>When he first began this work he had a wave of deep unhappiness; the
+responsibility of the priesthood so overwhelmed him that for a time, I
+have learned, he used to pray night after night, that he might die in
+his sleep, if it were possible. I saw and guessed nothing of this, but I
+think it was a mood of exhaustion, because he never exhibited anything
+but an eager and animated interest in life.</p>
+
+<p>One of his pleasures while he was at Cambridge and ever after was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+writing, staging, and rehearsing of little mystery-plays and sacred
+scenes for the children of St. Mary's Convent at Cambridge and for the
+choir boys of Westminster Cathedral. These he thoroughly enjoyed; he
+always loved the companionship of children, and had exactly the right
+way with them, treating them seriously, paternally, with a brisk
+authority, and never sentimentally. They were beautiful and moving
+little dramas, reverently performed. Unhappily I never saw one of them.
+Even now I remember with a stab of regret that he came to stay with me
+at Cambridge for one of these, and besought me to go with him. But I was
+shy and busy, and though I could easily have arranged to go, I did not
+and he went off alone. "Can't you really manage it?" he said.
+"Pray-a-do!" But I was obdurate, and it gives me pain now to think that
+I churlishly refused, though it is a false pathos to dwell on such
+things, and both foolish and wrong to credit the dead with remembering
+trifling grievances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But I do not think that his time at the Catholic rectory was a really
+very happy one. He needed more freedom; he became gradually aware that
+his work lay in the direction of writing, of lecturing, of preaching,
+and of advising. He took his own measure and knew his own strength. "I
+have <i>no</i> pastoral gift," he once said to me very emphatically. "I am
+not the man to <i>prop</i>," he once wrote; "I can kindle sometimes, but not
+support. People come to me and pass on." Nor was he at ease in the
+social atmosphere of Cambridge&mdash;it seemed to him bleak, dry,
+complacently intellectual, unimaginative. He felt himself what the law
+describes as "a suspected person," with vague designs on the spiritual
+life of the place.</p>
+
+<p>At first, he was not rich enough to live the sort of life he desired;
+but he began to receive larger incomes from his books, and to see that
+it would soon be in his power to make a home for himself. It was then
+that our rambles in search of possible houses began, while at the same
+time he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> curtailed his own personal expenditure to the lowest limits,
+till his wardrobe became conspicuous for its antiquity. This, however,
+he was wholly indifferent about; his aim was to put together a
+sufficient sum to buy a small house in the country, and there to settle
+"for ever," as he used to say. "A small Perpendicular chapel and a
+white-washed cottage next door is what I want just now," he wrote about
+this time. "It must be in a sweet and secret place&mdash;preferably in
+Cornwall." Or again, "I want and mean&mdash;if it is permitted&mdash;to live in a
+small cottage in the country; to say mass and office, and to write
+books. I think that is honestly my highest ideal. I hate fuss and
+officialdom and backbiting&mdash;I wish to be at peace with God and man."
+This was his dream. The house at Hare Street was the result.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>HARE STREET</h3>
+
+
+<p>Have no doubt at all that Hugh's seven years at Hare Street were the
+happiest of his life. He generally had some companion living there&mdash;Mr.
+Gabriel Pippet, who did much skilful designing and artistic work with
+and for him; Dr. Sessions, who managed his household affairs and acted
+as a much needed secretary; Father Watt, who was in charge of the
+Hormead Mission. At one time he had the care of a little boy, Ken
+Lindsay, which was, I think, the greatest joy he ever had. He was a most
+winning and affectionate child, and Hugh's love of children was very
+great. He taught Ken, played with him, told him stories. Among his
+papers are little touching trifles which testify to his love of the
+child&mdash;a withered flower, or some leaves in an envelope,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> "flower which
+Ken gave me," "leaves with which Ken tried to make a crown," and there
+are broken toys of Ken's put away, and little games and pictures which
+Hugh contrived for his pleasure, memories of happy days and hours. He
+used to talk about Ken and tell stories about his sayings and doings,
+and for a time Ken's presence gave a sense of home about Hare Street,
+and filled a part of Hugh's heart as nothing else did. It was a pleasure
+to see them together; Hugh's whole voice and bearing changed when Ken
+was with him, but he did not spoil him in the least or indulge him
+foolishly. I remember sitting with Hugh once when Ken was playing about,
+and how Hugh followed him with his eyes or listened to Ken's confidences
+and discoveries. But circumstances arose which made it necessary that
+Ken should go, and the loss of him was a great grief to Hugh&mdash;though
+even so, I admired the way in which he accepted the necessity. He always
+loved what he had got, but did not miss it if he lost it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<a name="i_168" id="i_168"></a><img src="images/168.jpg" width="600" height="330" alt="AT HARE STREET, 1909" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AT HARE STREET, 1909</span><br />
+<span class="caption">Mr. J. Reeman. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;   Ken.  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  R. H. Benson.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>He made friends, too, with the people of the village, put his chapel at
+their disposal for daily use, and had a Christmas festival there for
+them. He formed pleasant acquaintances with his country neighbours, and
+used to go to fish or shoot with them, or occasionally to dine out. He
+bought and restored a cottage which bordered on his garden, and built
+another house in a paddock beyond his orchard, both of which were let to
+friends. Thus it was not a solitary life at all.</p>
+
+<p>He had in his mind for a long time a scheme which he intended to carry
+out as soon as he had more leisure,&mdash;for it must be remembered that much
+of his lecturing and occasional writing was undertaken simply to earn
+money to enable him to accomplish his purposes. This was to found a
+community of like-minded people, who desired more opportunity for quiet
+devotion and meditation, for solitary work and contemplation, than the
+life of the world could afford them. Sometimes he designed a joint
+establishment, sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> small separate houses; but the essence of it
+all was solitude, cheered by sympathy and enough friendly companionship
+to avoid morbidity. At one time he planned a boys' home, in connection
+with the work of his friend Mr. Norman Potter, at another a home of rest
+for troubled and invalided people, at another a community for poor and
+sensitive people, who "if they could get away from squalor and conflict,
+would blow like flowers." With his love of precise detail, he drew up
+time-tables, so many hours for devotion and meditation, so many for work
+and exercise, so many for sociability.</p>
+
+<p>But gradually his engagements increased so that he was constantly away,
+preaching and lecturing; and thus he was seldom at home for more than
+two or three days at a time. Thrice he went to Rome to preach courses of
+sermons, and thrice he went to America, where he made many friends.
+Until latterly he used to go away for holidays of various kinds, a motor
+tour in France, a trip to Switzerland, where he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> climbed mountains; and
+he often went to stay with Lord Kenmare at Killarney, where he stalked
+deer, shot and fished, and lived an out-of-door life. I remember his
+describing to me an incident on one of those visits, how he was
+returning from a deer-stalk, in the roughest clothes, when he saw a
+little group of people in a by-lane, and presently a message arrived to
+say that there was a dying woman by the roadside, and could he go to
+her. He went in haste, heard her confession, and gave her absolution,
+while the bystanders withdrew to a distance, that no word might be
+overheard, and stood bareheaded till the end came.</p>
+
+<p>His engagement-books, of which I have several, show a dangerous
+activity; it is difficult to see how any man could have done so much of
+work involving so much strain. But he had a clear idea in his mind. He
+used to say that he did not expect to have a long life. "Many thanks,"
+he wrote to a friend in 1905, in reply to a birthday letter. "I
+certainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> want happy returns; but not very many." He also said that he
+was prepared for a break-down in his powers. He intended to do his work
+in his own way, and as much as he could while his strength lasted. At
+the same time he was anxious to save enough money to enable him to live
+quietly on at Hare Street whatever happened. The result was that even
+when he came back from his journeys the time at Hare Street was never a
+rest. He worked from morning to night at some piece of writing, and
+there were very few commissions for articles or books which he refused.
+He said latterly, in reply to an entreaty from his dear friend Canon
+Sharrock, who helped him to die, that he would take a holiday: "No, I
+never take holidays now&mdash;they make me feel so self-conscious."</p>
+
+<p>He was very careful to keep up with his home and his family ties. He
+used to pay regular visits to Tremans, my mother's house, and was
+generally there at Christmas or thereabouts. Latterly he had a Christmas
+festival of his own at Hare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> Street, with special services in the
+chapel, with games and medals for the children, and with presents for
+all alike&mdash;children, tenants, servants, neighbours, and friends. My
+sister, who lately spent a Christmas with him, says that it was more
+like an ideal Christmas than anything she had ever seen, and that he
+himself, full of eagerness and kindness and laughter, was the centre and
+mainspring of it all. He used to invite himself over to Cambridge not
+infrequently for a night or two; and I used to run over for a day to
+Hare Street to see his improvements and to look round. I remember once
+going there for an afternoon and suggesting a stroll. We walked to a
+hamlet a little way off, but to my surprise he did not know the name of
+it, and said he had never been there. I discovered that he hardly ever
+left his own little domain, but took all his exercise in gardening or
+working with his hands. He had a regular workroom at one time in the
+house, where he carved, painted, or stitched tapestries&mdash;but it was all
+intent work. When he came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> to Cambridge for a day, he would collect
+books from all parts of the house, read them furiously, "tearing the
+heart out of them" like Dr. Johnson. Everything was done thus, at top
+speed. His correspondence was enormous; he seldom failed to acknowledge
+a letter, and if his advice were asked he would write at great length,
+quite ungrudgingly; but his constant writing told on his script. Ten
+years ago it was a very distinctive, artistic, finely formed hand, very
+much like my father's, but latterly it grew cramped and even illegible,
+though it always had a peculiar character, and, as is often the case
+with very marked hand-writings, it tended to be unconsciously imitated
+by his friends.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<a name="i_174" id="i_174"></a><img src="images/174.jpg" width="600" height="383" alt="HARE STREET, IN THE GARDEN" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Copyright, C. Chichester</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">HARE STREET, IN THE GARDEN</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">JULY 1911</span><br />
+<span class="caption">R. H. Benson. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;   Dr. F. L. Sessions.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>I used to wonder, in talk with him, how he found it possible to stay
+about so much in all sorts of houses, and see so many strange people.
+"Oh, one gets used to it," he said, adding: "besides, I am quite
+shameless now&mdash;I say that I must have a room to myself where I can work
+and smoke, and people are very good about that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>AUTHORSHIP</h3>
+
+
+<p>As to Hugh's books, I will here say a few words about them, because they
+were a marked part of himself; he put much skill and care into making
+them, and took fully as much rapture away. When he was writing a book,
+he was like a man galloping across country in a fresh sunny morning, and
+shouting aloud for joy. But I do not intend to make what is called an
+appreciation of them, and indeed am little competent to do so. I do not
+know the conventions of the art or the conditions of it. "Oh, I see,"
+said a critical friend to me not long ago in much disgust, "you read a
+novel for the ideas and the people and the story." "What do you read it
+for?" I said. "Why, to see how it is done, of course," he replied.
+Personally I have never read a book in my life to see how it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> is done,
+and what interests me, apart from the book, is the person behind it&mdash;and
+that is very elementary. Moreover, I have a particular dislike of all
+historical novels. Fact is interesting and imagination is interesting;
+but I do not care for webs of imagination hung on pegs of fact.
+Historical novels ought to be like memoirs, and they are never in the
+least like memoirs; in fact they are like nothing at all, except each
+other.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Light Invisible</i> always seemed to me a beautiful book. It was in
+1902 that Hugh began to write it, at Mirfield. He says that a book of
+stories of my own, <i>The Hill of Trouble</i>, put the idea into his
+head&mdash;but his stories have no resemblance to mine. Mine were archaic
+little romances, written in a style which a not unfriendly reviewer
+called "painfully kind," an epigram which always gave Hugh extreme
+amusement. His were modern, semi-mystical tales; he says that he
+personally came to dislike the book intensely from the spiritual point
+of view, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> being feverish and sentimental, and designed unconsciously
+to quicken his own spiritual temperature. He adds that he thought the
+book mischievous, as laying stress on mystical intuition rather than
+Divine authority, and because it substituted the imagination for the
+soul. That is a dogmatic objection rather than a literary objection; and
+I suppose he really disliked it because it reminded him later on of a
+time when he was moving among shadows. But it was the first book in
+which he spread his wings, and there is, I think, a fresh and ingenuous
+beauty about it, as of a delighted adventure among new faculties and
+powers.</p>
+
+<p>I believe that the most beautiful book he ever wrote was <i>Richard
+Raynal, Solitary</i>; and I know he thought so himself. Of course it is an
+archaic book, and written, as musicians say, in a <i>mode</i>. It is easier
+in some ways to write a book in a style which is not authentically one's
+own, and literary imitation is not the highest art; but <i>Richard Raynal</i>
+has the beauty of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> fine tapestry designed on antique lines, yet
+replenished and enriched by modern emotion, like Tennyson's <i>Mort
+d'Arthur</i>. Yet I am sure there is a deep charm of pure beauty in the
+book, both of thought and handling, and I believe that he put into it
+the best essence of his feeling and imagination.</p>
+
+<p>As to his historical books, I can feel their vigour and vitality, and
+their deft use of old hints and fragments. I remember once discussing
+one of them with him, and saying that his description of Queen Elizabeth
+seemed to me very vivid, but that it reminded me of a not very authentic
+picture of that queen, in spangled crimson and lace, which hung in the
+hall at Addington. Hugh laughed, and said: "Well, I must confess that
+very picture was in my mind!"</p>
+
+<p>With regard to his more modern stories it is impossible not to be
+impressed by their lightness and swiftness, their flashes of beauty and
+emotion, their quick rippling talk; but it is hard, at times, not to
+feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> them to be vitiated by their quite unconscious tendency to
+represent a point of of view. They were once called by a malign reviewer
+"the most detestable kind of tract," and though this is what the French
+call a <i>saugrenu</i> criticism, which implies something dull, boorish, and
+provincial, yet it is easy to recognise what is meant. It is not unjust
+to resent the appearance of the cultivated and sensitive Anglican,
+highly bred and graceful, who is sure to turn out hard and
+hollow-hearted, or the shabby, trotting, tobacco-scented Roman Catholic
+priest, who is going to emerge at a crisis as a man of inspired dignity
+and solemnity. Sometimes, undoubtedly, the books are too intent upon
+expunging other forms of religious life, rather than in tracing the
+movements of the soul. Probably this was inseparable from the position
+Hugh had taken up, and there was not the slightest pose, or desire to
+improve the situation about his mind. The descriptions, the
+lightly-touched details, the naturalness and ease of the talk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> are
+wholly admirable. He must have been a very swift observer, both of
+nature and people, because he never gave the least impression of
+observing anything. I never saw him stop to look at a view, or go into
+raptures over anything beautiful or picturesque; in society he was
+either silent and absorbed, or more commonly extremely animated and
+expansive. But he never seemed to be on the look-out for any impressions
+at all, and still less to be recording them.</p>
+
+<p>I believe that all his books, with the exception, perhaps, of <i>Richard
+Raynal</i>, can be called brilliant improvisations rather than deliberate
+works of art. "I write best," he once said, "when I rely most on
+imagination." The time which elapsed from his conception of an idea to
+the time when the book was completed was often incredibly short. I
+remember his telling me his first swift thought about <i>The Coward</i>; and
+when I next asked him about it, the book had gone to the publishers and
+he was writing another. When he was actu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>ally engaged in writing he was
+oblivious of all else, and lived in a sort of dream. I have several
+sketches of books which he made. He used to make a rough outline, a kind
+of <i>scenario</i>, indicating the gradual growth of the plot. That was done
+rapidly, and he always said that the moment his characters were
+conceived, they began to haunt his mind with emphatic vividness; but he
+wrote very fast, and a great quantity at a time. His life got fuller and
+fuller of engagements, but he would get back to Hare Street for a day or
+two, when he would write from morning to night with a brief interval for
+gardening or handicraft, and briefer intervals for meals. He was fond of
+reading aloud bits of the books, as they grew. He read all his books
+aloud to my mother in MS., and paid careful heed to her criticisms,
+particularly with reference to his female characters, though it has been
+truly said that the women in his novels are mostly regarded either as
+indirect obstacles or as direct aids to conversion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Belloc once said, very wisely and truly, that inertia was the
+breeding-ground of inspiration. I think, on the whole, that the total
+and entire absence of any species of inertia in Hugh's temperament
+reacted in a way unfavourably on his books. I do not think they simmered
+in his mind, but were projected, hot and smoking, from the fiery
+crucible of thought. There seems to me a breathless quality about them.
+Moreover I do not think that there is much trace of the subtle chemistry
+of mutual relations about his characters. In life, people undergo
+gradual modifications, and other people exert psychological effects upon
+them. But in Hugh's books the characters are all fiercely occupied in
+being themselves from start to finish; they have exhausted moods, but
+they have not dull or vacant moods; they are always typical and
+emphatic. This is really to me the most interesting thing about his
+books, that they are all projections of his own personality into his
+characters. He is behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> them all; and writing with Hugh was, like so
+many things that he did, a game which he played with all his might. I
+have spoken about this elsewhere, because it accounted for much in his
+life; and when he was engaged in writing, there was always the delicious
+sense of the child, furiously and absorbingly at play, about him.</p>
+
+<p>It is said that no artist is ever really interested in another artist's
+work. My brothers, Fred and Hugh, my sister and myself would sometimes
+be at home together, and all writing books. Hugh was, I think, always
+the first inclined to produce his work for inspection; but we had a
+tacit convention which was not in the least unsympathetic, not to feel
+bound to be particularly interested in each other's books. My books, I
+felt, bored Hugh more than his bored me; but there was this advantage,
+that when we read each other's books, as we often did, any critical
+praise that we could offer was much more appreciated than if we had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+felt bound to proffer conventional admiration. Hugh once told me that he
+envied my <i>sostenuto</i>; but on another occasion, when I said I had
+nothing to write about, and feared I had written too many books, Hugh
+said: "Why not write a book about having nothing to write about?" It was
+good advice and I took it. I can remember his real and obvious pleasure
+when I once praised <i>Richard Raynal</i> to him with all my might. But
+though he enjoyed praise, it was always rather because it confirmed his
+own belief that his work was worth doing. He did not depend in the
+smallest degree either upon applause or sympathy. Indeed, by the time
+that a book was out, he had generally got another on the stocks, and did
+not care about the previous one at all.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_184" id="i_184"></a><img src="images/184.jpg" width="400" height="646" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1910. AGED 39</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Neither do I think that his books emanated from a high artistic ideal. I
+do not believe that he was really much interested in his craft. Rather
+he visualised a story very vividly, and then it seemed to him the finest
+fun in the world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> to spin it all as rapidly as he could out of his
+brain, to make it all alert with glancing life. It was all a personal
+confession; his books bristle with his own dreams, his own dilemmas, his
+own social relations; and when he had once firmly realised the Catholic
+attitude, it seemed to him the one thing worth writing about.</p>
+
+<p>While I write these pages I have been dipping into <i>The
+Conventionalists</i>. It is full of glow and drama, even melodrama; but
+somehow it does not recall Hugh to my mind. That seems strange to me,
+but I think of him as always larger than his books, less peremptory,
+more tolerant, more impatient of strain. The book is full of strain; but
+then I remember that in the old days, when he played games, he was a
+provoking and even derisive antagonist, and did not in the least resent
+his adversaries being both; and I come back to my belief in the game,
+and the excitement of the game. I do not, after all, believe that his
+true nature flowed quite equably into his books, as I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> it did into
+<i>The Light Invisible</i> and <i>Richard Raynal</i>. It was a demonstration, and
+he enjoyed using his skill and adroitness; he loved to present the
+smouldering and flashing of passions, the thrill and sting of which he
+had never known. Saved as he was by his temperament alike from deep
+suffering and tense emotion, and from any vital mingling either with the
+scum and foam or with the stagnancy and mire of life, the books remain
+as a brilliant illusion, with much of the shifting hues and changing
+glimmer of his own ardent and restless mind rippling over the surface of
+a depth which is always a little mysterious as to the secrets it
+actually holds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2>
+
+<h3>FAILING HEALTH</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh's health on the whole was good up to the year 1912, though he had a
+troublesome ailment, long ignored, which gave him a good deal of
+malaise. He very much disliked being spoken to about his health, and
+accepted no suggestions on the subject. But he determined at the end of
+1912, after enduring great pain, to have an operation, which was quite
+successful, but the shock of which was considerable. He came down to
+Tremans just before, and it was clear that he suffered greatly; but so
+far from dreading the operation, he anticipated it with a sense of
+immense relief, and after it was over, though he was long unwell, he was
+in the highest spirits. But he said after he came back from Rome that he
+felt ten years older; and I can recall his com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>ing down to Cambridge not
+long after and indulging one evening in an immense series of yawns, for
+which he apologised, saying, "I'm tired, I'm tired&mdash;not at the top, but
+deep down inside, don't you know?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_188" id="i_188"></a><img src="images/188.jpg" width="400" height="566" alt="AT TREMANS, HORSTED KEYNES" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by H. Abbott, Lindfield</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">AT TREMANS, HORSTED KEYNES</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">DECEMBER, 1913</span><br />
+<span class="caption">A. C. Benson. Aged 51.</span><br />
+<span class="caption">R. H. Benson. Aged 42.</span><br />
+<span class="caption">E. F. Benson. Aged 46.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>But it was not until 1914 that his health really declined. He came over
+to Cambridge at the beginning of August, when the war was impending. He
+stayed with me over the Sunday; he was tired and overstrained,
+complained that he felt unable to fix his mind upon anything, and he was
+in considerable depression about the possibility of war. I have never
+seen him so little able to throw off an anxiety; but he dined in Hall
+with me on the Sunday night, met some old friends, and was full of talk.
+He told me later in the evening that he was in much anxiety about some
+anonymous menace which he had received. He would not enter into details,
+but he spoke very gravely about it. However, later in the month, I went
+over with a friend to see him at Hare Street, and found him in cheerful
+spirits in spite of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> everything. He had just got the place, he said,
+into perfect order, and now all it wanted was to be left alone. It was a
+day of bright hot sunlight, and we lunched out of doors near the chapel
+under the shade of the yew trees. He produced a peculiar and pleasant
+wine, which he had made on the most scientific principles out of his own
+grapes. We went round and looked at everything, and he showed me the
+preparation for the last adornment, which was to be a rose garden near
+the chapel. We walked into the orchard and stood near the Calvary,
+little thinking that he would be laid to rest there hardly two months
+later.</p>
+
+<p>The weeks passed on, and at the end of September I went to stay near
+Ambleside with some cousins, the Marshalls, in a beautiful house called
+Skelwith Fold, among lovely woodlands, with the mountains rising on
+every side, and a far-off view down Langdale. Here I found Hugh staying.
+He was writing some Collects for time of war, and read many of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+aloud to me for criticism. He was also painting in oils, attempting very
+difficult landscapes with considerable success. They stood drying in the
+study, and he was much absorbed in them; he also was fishing keenly in a
+little trout lake near the house, and walking about with a gun. His
+spirits were very equable and good. But he told me that he had gone out
+shooting in September over some fields lent him by a neighbour, and had
+had to return owing to breathlessness; and he added that he suffered
+constantly from breathlessness and pain in the chest and arms, that he
+could only walk a few paces at a time, and then had to rest to recover
+his breath. He did not seem to be anxious about it, but he went down one
+morning to celebrate Mass at Ambleside, refusing the offer of the car,
+and found himself in such pain that he then and there went to a doctor,
+who said that he believed it to be indigestion.</p>
+
+<p>He sat that morning after breakfast with me, smoking, and complaining
+that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> the pain was very severe. But he did not look ill; and the pain
+suddenly left him. "Oh what bliss!" he said. "It's gone, suddenly and
+entirely&mdash;and now I must go out and finish my sketch."</p>
+
+<p>The only two things that made me feel anxious were that he had given up
+smoking to a considerable extent, and that he said he meant to consult
+our family doctor; but he was so lively and animated&mdash;I remember one
+night the immense zest and intensity with which he played a game of
+throwing an old pack of cards across the room into the grate&mdash;that it
+was impossible to think that his condition was serious.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, I said good-bye to him when he went off, without the least
+anticipation of evil. My real hope was that he would be told he had been
+overdoing it, and ordered to rest; and a few days later, when I heard
+that this was what the doctor advised, I wrote to him suggesting that he
+should come and settle at Cambridge for a couple of months, do exactly
+what he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> liked, and see as much or as little of people as he liked. It
+seems that he showed this letter to one of the priests at Manchester,
+and said, "There, that is what I call a real invitation&mdash;that is what I
+shall do!"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Ross-Todd saw him, and told him that it was a neuralgic affection,
+"false angina," and that his heart was sound, but that he must diminish
+his work. He pleaded to be allowed to finish his imminent engagements;
+the doctor said that he might do that, if he would put off all
+subsequent ones. This was wisely done, in order to reassure him, as he
+was an excitable though not a timid patient. He was at Hare Street for a
+day or two, and his trusted servant, Mr. Reeman, tells me that he seemed
+ill and out of spirits. The last words he said as he drove away, looking
+round the lime-encircled lawn, were, "Ah! the leaves will all be gone
+when I come home again."</p>
+
+<p>He preached at Salford on October 4, and went to Ulverston on October 5,
+where he conducted a mission. On October 10 he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> returned, and Canon
+Sharrock says that he arrived in great pain, and had to move very
+slowly. But he preached again on October 11, though he used none of the
+familiar gestures, but stood still in the pulpit. He suffered much after
+the sermon, and rested long in a chair in the sacristy. He started to go
+to London on the Monday morning, but had to return in the taxi, feeling
+too ill to travel. Then followed days of acute pain, during which he no
+doubt caught a severe chill. He could not sleep, and he could only
+obtain relief by standing up. He wandered restlessly one night about the
+corridors, very lightly clad, and even went out into the court. He stood
+for two or three hours leaning on the mantelpiece of his room, with
+Father Gorman sitting near him, and trying in vain to persuade him to
+retire to bed.</p>
+
+<p>When he was not suffering he was full of life, and even of gaiety. He
+went one of these afternoons, at his own suggestion, to a cinema show
+with one of the priests, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> though he enjoyed it, and even laughed
+heartily, he said later that it had exhausted him.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote some letters, putting off many of his autumn and winter
+engagements. But he grew worse; a specialist was called in, and, though
+the diagnosis was entirely confirmed, it was found that pneumonia had
+set in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE END</h3>
+
+
+<p>I had spent a long day in London at a business meeting, where we
+discussed a complicated educational problem. I came away alone; I was
+anxious to have news of my sister, who had that morning undergone a
+slight operation; but I was not gravely disquieted, because no serious
+complications were expected.</p>
+
+<p>When I reached my house there were two telegrams awaiting me, one to say
+that the operation had gone well, the other from Canon Sharrock, of
+Salford, to say that my brother was dangerously ill of pneumonia. I
+wired at once for a further report, and before it arrived made up my
+mind that I must go to him. I waited till the reply came&mdash;it was a
+little more favourable&mdash;went up to London, and caught a midnight train
+for Manchester.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The news had the effect which a sudden shock is apt to have, of inducing
+a sense of curious unreality. I neither read nor slept, nor even thought
+coherently. I was just aware of disaster and fear. I was alone in my
+compartment. Sometimes we passed through great, silent, deserted
+stations, or stopped outside a junction for an express to pass. At one
+or two places there was a crowd of people, seeing off a party of
+soldiers, with songs and cheers. Further north I was aware at one time
+that the train was labouring up a long incline, and I had a faint sense
+of relief when suddenly the strain relaxed, and the train began to run
+swiftly and smoothly downwards; I had just one thought, the desire to
+reach my brother, and over and over again the dread of what I might
+hear.</p>
+
+<p>It was still dark and chilly when I arrived at Manchester. The great
+station was nearly empty. I drove hurriedly through dimly-lit streets.
+Sometimes great factories towered up, or dark house-fronts shuttered
+close. Here there were high steel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> networks of viaducts overhead, or
+parapets of bridges over hidden waterways. At last I came to where a
+great church towered up, and an iron-studded door in a blank wall
+appeared. I was told this was the place, and pushing it open I went up a
+stone-flagged path, among beds of soot-stained shrubs, to where a
+lantern shone in the porch of a sombre house. There was a window high up
+on the left, where a shaded lamp was burning and a fire flickered on the
+ceiling, and I knew instinctively that this was my brother's room. I
+rang, and presently a weary-eyed, kindly priest, in a hastily-donned
+cassock, appeared. He said at once that my brother was a little better
+and was asleep. The doctors were to see him at nine. I asked where I
+could go, and he advised a hotel hard by. "We did not expect you," he
+said, "or we would have had a room ready, but now I fear we could hardly
+make you comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>I went to the hotel, a big, well-equipped place, and was taken to a
+bedroom, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> I slept profoundly, out of utter weariness. Then I went
+down to the Bishop's House again at nine o'clock. By daylight Manchester
+had a grim and sinister air. It was raining softly and the air was heavy
+with smoke. The Bishop's House stood in what was evidently a poor
+quarter, full of mean houses and factories, all of red brick, smeared
+and stained with soot. The house itself appeared like a great college,
+with paved corridors, dark arches, and many doors. There was a lighted
+room like a sacristy, and a faint scent of incense drifted in from the
+door which led into the church. Upstairs, in a huge throne-room with a
+gilded chair of state and long, bare tables, I met the doctors&mdash;Dr.
+Bradley, a Catholic, and Professor Murray, a famous Manchester
+physician, in khaki uniform, both most gentle and kind. Canon Sharrock
+joined us, a tall, robust man, with a beautiful tenderness of manner and
+a brotherly air. They gave me a better report, but could not disguise
+from me that things were very critical. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> pneumonia of a very
+grave kind which had supervened on a condition of overwork and
+exhaustion. I see now that they had very little hope of recovery, but I
+did not wholly perceive it then.</p>
+
+<p>Then I went with the Canon to the end of the room. I saw two iron
+cylinders on the table with brass fittings, and somehow knew that they
+contained oxygen.</p>
+
+<p>The Canon knocked, and Hugh's voice said, clearly and resonantly, "Come
+in." I found him in bed, in a big library, the Bishop's own room. There
+were few signs of illness except a steam-kettle and a few bottles; a
+nurse was in the adjoining room. He was unable to speak very much, as
+his throat troubled him; but he was full of humour and brightness. I
+told him such news as I could think of. He knew that I was very busy,
+but was pleased that I had come to see him. He said that he felt really
+better, and that I should be able to go back the next day. He said a few
+words about a will he had made, but added, "Mind, I don't think I am
+going to die! I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> did yesterday, but I feel really better. This is only
+by way of precaution." We talked about a friend of mine in Manchester, a
+militant Protestant. "Yes," said Hugh, "he spoke of me the other day as
+a 'hell-hound'&mdash;not very tactful!" He said that he could not sleep for
+long together, but that he did not feel tired&mdash;only bored. I was told I
+must not stay long with him. He said once or twice, "It's awfully good
+of you to have come."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_200" id="i_200"></a><img src="images/200.jpg" width="400" height="574" alt="BISHOP'S HOUSE, SALFORD" title="" />
+<span class="attr"><i>Photo by Lofthouse, Crosbie &amp; Co.</i></span><br />
+<span class="caption">BISHOP&#39;S HOUSE, SALFORD</span><br />
+<span class="caption">The Church on the left is the transept of St. John's Cathedral, Salford,
+where Hugh preached his last sermon. The room in which he died was the
+Bishop's Library. One of its windows is visible on the first floor to
+the left of the porch.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>I went away after a little, feeling very much reassured. He did not give
+the impression of being gravely ill at all, he was so entirely himself.
+I wrote a few letters and then returned, while he ate his luncheon, a
+baked apple&mdash;but this was painful to him and he soon desisted. He talked
+again a little, with the same liveliness, but as he began to be drowsy,
+I left him again.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bradley soon came to me, and confessed he felt anxious. "It may be a
+long and critical business," he said. "If he can maintain his strength
+like this for several<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> days, he may turn the corner&mdash;he is a difficult
+patient. He is not afraid, but he is excitable, and is always asking for
+relief and suggesting remedies." I said something about summoning the
+others. "On no account," he said. "It would give him the one impression
+we must try to avoid&mdash;much depends upon his own hopefulness."</p>
+
+<p>I went back to my hotel, slumbered over a book, went in for a little to
+the cathedral service, and came back about five o'clock. The nurse was
+not in the room at the moment. Hugh said a few words to me, but had a
+sudden attack of faintness. I gave him a little whisky at his own
+request, the doctor was fetched, and there followed a very anxious hour,
+while various remedies were tried, and eventually oxygen revived him. He
+laid his head down on the pillow, smiled at me, and said, "Oh, what
+bliss! I feel absolutely comfortable&mdash;it's wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor beckoned me out, and told me that I had better move my things
+across to the house and sleep there. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> don't like the look of things
+at all," he said; "your place is certainly here." He added that we had
+better wait until the morning before deciding whether the others should
+be sent for. I moved my things in, and had supper with the priests, who
+were very kind to me. They talked much about Hugh, of his gaiety and
+humour; and I saw that he had given his best to these friends of his,
+and lived with them in brotherly simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>I did not then think he was going to die, and I certainly expected no
+sudden change. I ought, no doubt, to have realised that the doctors had
+done their best to prepare me for his death; but the mind has an
+instinctive way of holding out the shield of hope against such fears.</p>
+
+<p>I was told at this time that he was to be left quiet, so I merely
+slipped in at ten o'clock. Hugh was drowsy and resting quietly; he just
+gave me a nod and a smile.</p>
+
+<p>The one thing which made me anxious, on thinking over our interviews in
+the course of the day was this&mdash;that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> seemed to have a preoccupation
+in his mind, though he had spoken cheerfully enough about various
+matters. It did not seem either a fear or an anxiety. It was rather that
+he knew that he might die, I now believe, and that he desired to live,
+and was thinking about all the things he had to do and wished to do, and
+that his trains of thought continually ended in the thought&mdash;"Perhaps I
+may not live to do them." He wished too, I thought, to reassure himself,
+and was pleased at feeling better, and at seeing that I thought him
+better than I had expected. He was a sensitive patient, the doctor said,
+and often suggested means of keeping up his strength. But he showed no
+fear at any time, though he seemed like one who was facing a foe; like a
+soldier in the trenches with an enemy opposite him whom he could not
+quite discern.</p>
+
+<p>However, I went off to bed, feeling suddenly very tired&mdash;I had been for
+thirty-six hours almost without sleep, and it seemed to me as if whole
+days had passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> since I left Cambridge. My room was far away, a little
+plain cell in a distant corridor high up. I slept a little; when
+suddenly, through the glass window above my door, I saw the gleam of a
+light, and became aware that someone was rapidly drawing near in the
+corridor. In a moment Canon Sharrock tapped and entered. He said "Mr.
+Benson, your brother is sinking fast&mdash;he has asked for you; he said, 'Is
+my brother anywhere near at hand?' and when I said yes, that you were in
+the house, he said, 'Thank God!' Do not lose any time; I will leave the
+nurse on the stairs to light you." He went out, and I put on a few
+things and went down the great dark arches of the staircase, with a
+glimmering light below, and through the throne-room with the nurse. When
+I came in I saw Hugh sitting up in bed; they had put a chair beside him,
+covered with cushions, for him to lean against. He was pale and
+breathing very fast, with the nurse sponging his brow. Canon Sharrock
+was standing at the foot of the bed, with his stole on,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> reading the
+last prayers from a little book. When I entered, Hugh fixed his eyes on
+me with a strange smile, with something triumphant in it, and said in a
+clear, natural voice, "Arthur, this is the end!" I knelt down near the
+bed. He looked at me, and I knew somehow that we understood each other
+well, that he wanted no word or demonstration, but was just glad I was
+with him. The prayers began again. Hugh crossed himself faintly once or
+twice, made a response or two. Then he said: "I beg your pardon&mdash;one
+moment&mdash;my love to them all." The big room was brightly lit; something
+on the hearth boiled over, and the nurse went across the room. Hugh said
+to me: "You will make certain I am dead, won't you?" I said "Yes," and
+then the prayers went on. Suddenly he said to the nurse: "Nurse, is it
+any good my resisting death&mdash;making any effort?" The nurse said: "No,
+Monsignor; just be as quiet as you can." He closed his eyes at this, and
+his breath came quicker. Presently he opened his eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> again and looked
+at me, and said in a low voice: "Arthur, don't look at me! Nurse, stand
+between my brother and me!" He moved his hand to indicate where she
+should stand. I knew well what was in his mind; we had talked not long
+before of the shock of certain sights, and how a dreadful experience
+could pierce through the reason and wound the inner spirit; and I knew
+that he wished to spare me the pain of seeing him die. Once or twice he
+drew up his hands as though trying to draw breath, and sighed a little;
+but there was no struggle or apparent pain. He spoke once more and said:
+"I commit my soul to God, to Mary, and to Joseph." The nurse had her
+hand upon his pulse, and presently laid his hand down, saying: "It is
+all over." He looked very pale and boyish then, with wide open eyes and
+parted lips. I kissed his hand, which was warm and firm, and went out
+with Canon Sharrock, who said to me: "It was wonderful! I have seen many
+people die, but no one ever so easily and quickly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was wonderful indeed! It seemed to me then, in that moment, strange
+rather than sad. He had been <i>himself</i> to the very end, no diminution of
+vigour, no yielding, no humiliation, with all his old courtesy and
+thoughtfulness and collectedness, and at the same time, I felt, with a
+real adventurousness&mdash;that is the only word I can use. I recognised that
+we were only the spectators, and that he was in command of the scene. He
+had made haste to die, and he had gone, as he was always used to do,
+straight from one finished task to another that waited for him. It was
+not like an end; it was as though he had turned a corner, and was
+passing on, out of sight but still unquestionably there. It seemed to me
+like the death of a soldier or a knight, in its calmness of courage, its
+splendid facing of the last extremity, its magnificent determination to
+experience, open-eyed and vigilant, the dark crossing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_208" id="i_208"></a><img src="images/208.jpg" width="400" height="634" alt="THE CALVARY AT HARE STREET, 1913" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CALVARY AT HARE STREET, 1913</span><br />
+<span class="caption">The grave is to the left of the mound.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>BURIAL</h3>
+
+
+<p>We had thought that he should be buried at Manchester; but a paper of
+directions was found saying that he wished to be buried at Hare Street,
+in his own orchard, at the foot of his Calvary. My mother arrived on the
+Monday evening, and in the course of Tuesday we saw his body for the
+last time, in biretta and cassock, with a rosary in his hands. He looked
+strangely young, like a statue carved in alabaster, with no trace of
+pain or weariness about him, simply asleep.</p>
+
+<p>His coffin was taken to the midnight train by the clergy of the Salford
+Cathedral and from Buntingford station by my brother Fred to his own
+little chapel, where it rested all the Thursday. On the Friday the
+Cardinal came down, with Canons from Westminster and the choir. A
+solemn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> Requiem was sung. The Cardinal consecrated a grave, and he was
+laid there, in the sight of a large concourse of mourners. It was very
+wonderful to see them. There were many friends and neighbours, but there
+were also many others, unknown to me and even to each other, whom Hugh
+had helped and comforted in different ways, and whose deep and visible
+grief testified to the sorrow of their loss and to the loyalty of their
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>I spent some strange solitary days at Hare Street in the week which
+followed, going over from Cambridge and returning, working through
+papers and letters. There were all Hugh's manuscripts and notes, his
+books of sermons, all the written evidences of his ceaseless energy. It
+was an astonishing record of diligence and patient effort. It seemed
+impossible to believe that in a life of perpetual travelling and endless
+engagements he yet had been able to accomplish all this mass of work.
+His correspondence too&mdash;though he had evidently destroyed all private
+spiritual con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>fidences&mdash;was of wide and varied range, and it was
+difficult to grasp that it yet represented the work of so comparatively
+few years. The accumulation also of little, unknown, unnamed gifts was
+very great, while the letters of grief and sympathy which I received
+from friends of his, whose very names were unknown to me, showed how
+intricate and wide his personal relations had been. And yet he had
+carried all this burden very lightly and easily. I realised how
+wonderful his power must have been of storing away in his mind the
+secrets of many hearts, always ready to serve them, and yet able to
+concentrate himself upon any work of his own.</p>
+
+<p>In his directions he spoke of his great desire to keep his house and
+chapel as much as possible in their present state. "I have spent an
+immense amount of time and care on these things," he said. It seemed
+that he had nearly realised his wish, by careful economy, to live at
+Hare Street quietly and without anxiety, even if his powers had failed
+him; and it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> strange to walk as I did, one day when I had nearly
+finished my task, round about the whole garden, which had been so
+tangled and weed-choked a wilderness, and the house at first so ruinous
+and bare, and to realise that it was all complete and perfect, a setting
+of order and peace. How insecure and frail the beautiful hopes of
+permanence and quiet enjoyment all seemed! I passed over the smooth
+lawn, under the leafless limes, through the yew-tree walk to the
+orchard, where the grave lay, with the fading wreaths, and little paths
+trodden in the grass; by the hazel hedge and the rose-garden, and the
+ranked vegetable rows with their dying flower-borders; into the chapel
+with its fantasy of ornament, where the lamp burned before the shrine;
+through the house, with its silent panelled rooms all so finely ordered,
+all prepared for daily use and tranquil delight. It seemed impossible
+that he should not be returning soon in joyful haste, as he used to
+return, pleased to show his new designs and additions. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> I could not
+think of him as having any shadow of regret about it all, or as coming
+back, a pathetic <i>revenant</i>, to the scene of his eager inventiveness.
+That was never his way, to brood over what had been done. It was always
+the new, the untouched, the untried, that he was in search of. Hugh
+never wished that he had done otherwise, nor did he indulge in the
+passion of the past, or in the half-sad, half-luxurious retrospect of
+the days that are no more. "Ah," I could fancy him saying, "that was all
+delightful while it lasted&mdash;it was the greatest fun in the world! But
+now!"&mdash;and I knew as well in my heart and mind as if he had come behind
+me and spoken to me, that he was moving rapturously in some new
+experience of life and beauty. He loved indeed to speak of old days, to
+recall them vividly and ecstatically, as though they were actually
+present to him; and I could think of him as even delighting to go over
+with me those last hours of his life that we spent together, not with
+any shadow of dread<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> or shrinking, but just as it pleased Odysseus to
+tell the tale of how he sped down the whirlpool, with death beneath and
+death above, facing it all, taking it all in, not cherishing any
+delusion of hope, and yet enjoying it as an adventure of real experience
+which it was good to have tasted even so.</p>
+
+<p>And when I came to look at some of his letters, and saw the sweet and
+generous things which he had said of myself in the old days, his
+gratitude for trifling kindnesses and gifts which I had myself
+forgotten, I felt a touch of sorrow for a moment that I had not been
+even nearer to him than I was, and more in his enlivening company; and I
+remembered how, when he arrived to see me, he would come lightly in, say
+a word of greeting, and plunge into talk of all that we were doing; and
+then I felt that I must not think of him unworthily, as having any
+grievance or shadow of concern about my many negligences and coldnesses:
+but that we were bound by ties of lasting love and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> trust, and shared a
+treasure of dear memories and kindnesses; and that I might leave his
+spirit in its newly found activities, take up my own task in the light
+of his vivid example, and look forward to a day when we might be again
+together, sharing recollection and purpose alike, as cheerfully and
+gladly as we had done in the good days that were gone, with all the
+added joy of the new dawn, and with the old understanding made more
+perfect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh was always youthful-looking for his age, light and quick in
+movement, intent but never deliberate, passing very rapidly from one
+thing to another, impatient of boredom and dullness, always desiring to
+do a thing that very minute. He was fair of complexion, with grey-blue
+eyes and a shock head of light hair, little brushed, and uncut often too
+long. He was careless of appearances, and wore clothes by preference of
+great shabbiness. He told me in 1909 that he had only bought one suit in
+the last five years. I have seen him, when gardening at Hare Street,
+wear a pair of shoes such as might have been picked up in a ditch after
+a tramp's encampment. At the same time he took a pleasure of a boyish
+kind in robes of state. He liked his Mon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>signor's purple, his red-edged
+cassock and crimson cincture, as a soldier likes his uniform. He was in
+no way ascetic; and though he could be and often seemed to be wholly
+indifferent to food, yet he was amused by culinary experiments, and
+collected simple savoury recipes for household use. He was by far the
+quickest eater I have ever seen. He was a great smoker of cheap
+cigarettes. They were a natural sedative for his highly strung
+temperament. I do not, think he realised how much he smoked, and he
+undoubtedly smoked too much for several years.</p>
+
+<p>He was always quick, prompt, and decisive. He had an extraordinary
+presence of mind in the face of danger. My sister remembers how he was
+once strolling with her, in his cassock, in a lane near Tremans, when a
+motor came down the road at a great pace, and Roddy, the collie, trotted
+out in front of it, with his back turned to the car, unconscious of
+danger. Hugh took a leap, ran up hill, snatched Roddy up just in front
+of the wheels, and fell with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> him against the hedge on the opposite side
+of the road.</p>
+
+<p>He liked a degree of comfort, and took great pleasure in having
+beautiful things about him. "I do not believe that lovely things should
+be stamped upon," he once wrote to a friend who was urging the dangers
+of a strong sense of beauty; adding, "should they not rather be led in
+chains?" Yet his taste was not at all severe, and he valued things for
+their associations and interest as much as he did for their beauty. He
+had a great accumulation of curious, pretty, and interesting things at
+Hare Street, and took a real pleasure in possession. At the same time he
+was not in the least dependent on such things, and could be perfectly
+happy in bare and ugly rooms. There was no touch of luxuriousness about
+him, and the adornment of his house was one of the games that he played.
+One of his latest amusements was to equip and catalogue his library. He
+was never very much of a reader, except for a specific purpose. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> read
+the books that came in his way, but he had no technical knowledge of
+English literature. There were many English classics which he never
+looked into, and he made no attempt to follow modern developments. But
+he read books so quickly that he was acquainted more or less with a wide
+range of authors. At the same time he never wasted any time in reading
+books which did not interest him, and he knew by a sort of intuition the
+kind of books he cared about.</p>
+
+<p>He was of late years one of the liveliest and most refreshing of
+talkers. As a boy and a young man he was rather silent than otherwise in
+the family circle, but latterly it was just the opposite. He talked
+about anything that was in his mind, but at the same time he did not
+wish to keep the talk in his own hands, and had an eager and delighted
+recognition of his companion's thoughts and ideas.</p>
+
+<p>His sense of humour was unfailing, and when he laughed, he laughed with
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> whole of himself, loudly and contagiously, abandoning himself with
+tears in his eyes to helpless paroxysms of mirth. There was never the
+smallest touch of affectation or priggishness about his attitude, and he
+had none of the cautious and uneasy reverence which is apt to overshadow
+men of piety. He was intensely amused by the humorous side of the people
+and the institutions which he loved. Here are two slight illustrations
+which come back to my mind. He told me these two stories in one day at
+Tremans. One was that of a well-known Anglican Bishop who attended a
+gathering of clergy, and in his valedictory speech said that they would
+expect him to make some allusion to the fact that one who had attended
+their last meeting was no longer of the Anglican communion, having
+joined the Church of Rome. They would all, he said, regret the step
+which he had thought fit to take; but they must not forget the serious
+fall their poor friend had had from his bicycle not long before, which
+had undoubtedly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> affected gravely his mental powers. Then he told me of
+an unsatisfactory novice in a religious house who had been expelled from
+the community for serious faults. His own account of it was that the
+reason why he was expelled was that he used to fall asleep at
+meditation, and snore so loud that he awoke the elder brethren.</p>
+
+<p>Though Hugh held things sacred, he did not hold them inconveniently
+sacred, and it did not affect their sacredness if they had also a
+humorous side to them. He had no temptation to be easily shocked, and
+though he hated all impure suggestiveness, he could be amused by what
+may be called broad humour. I always felt him to be totally free from
+prudishness, and it seemed to me that he drew the line in exactly the
+right place between things that might be funny and unrefined, and things
+which were merely coarse and gross. The fact was that he had a perfectly
+simple manliness about him, and an infallible tact, which was wholly
+unaffected, as to the limits of decorum. The result was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> that one could
+talk to him with the utmost plainness and directness. His was not a
+cloistered and secluded temperament. He knew the world, and had no fear
+of it or shrinking from it.</p>
+
+<p>He dearly loved an argument, and could be both provoking and incisive.
+He was vehement, and hated dogmatic statements with which he did not
+agree. When he argued, he used a good deal of gesture, waving his hands
+as though to clear the air, emphasising what he said with little sweeps
+and openings of his hands, sometimes covering his face and leaning
+forwards, as if to gain time for the onset. His arguments were not so
+much clear as ingenious, and I never knew anyone who could defend a poor
+case so vigorously. When he was strained and tired, he would argue more
+tenaciously, and employ fantastic illustrations with great skill; but it
+always blew over very quickly, and as a rule he was good-tempered and
+reasonable enough. But he liked best a rapid and various interchange of
+talk. He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> bored by slow-moving and solemn minds, but could extract a
+secret joy from pompous utterances, while nothing delighted him more
+than a full description of the exact talk and behaviour of affected and
+absurd people.</p>
+
+<p>His little stammer was a very characteristic part of his manner. It was
+much more marked when he was a boy and a young man, and it varied much
+with his bodily health. I believe that it never affected him when
+preaching or speaking in public, though he was occasionally nervous
+about its doing so. It was not, so to speak, a long and leisurely
+stammer, as was the case with my uncle, Henry Sidgwick, the little toss
+of whose head as he disengaged a troublesome word, after long dallying
+with a difficult consonant, added a touch of <i>friandise</i> to his talk.
+Hugh's stammer was rather like a vain attempt to leap over an obstacle,
+and showed itself as a simple hesitation rather than as a repetition. He
+used, after a slight pause, to bring out a word with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> deliberate
+emphasis, but it never appeared to suspend the thread of his talk. I
+remember an occasion, as a young man, when he took sherry, contrary to
+his wont, through some dinner-party; and when asked why he had done
+this, he said that it happened to be the only liquid the name of which
+he was able to pronounce on that evening. He used to feel humiliated by
+it, and I have heard him say, "I'm sorry&mdash;I'm stammering badly
+to-night!" but it would never have been very noticeable, if he had not
+attended to it. It is clear, however, from some of his letters that he
+felt it to be a real disability in talk, and even fancied that it made
+him absurd, though as a matter of fact the little outward dart of his
+head, as he forced the recalcitrant word out, was a gesture which his
+friends both knew and loved.</p>
+
+<p>He learned to adapt himself to persons of very various natures, and
+indeed was so eager to meet people on their own ground that it seems to
+me he was to a certain extent misapprehended. I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> seen a good many
+things said about him since his death which seem to me to be entire
+misinterpretations of him, arising from the simple fact that they were
+reflections of his companion's mood mirrored in his own sympathetic
+mind. Further, I am sure that what was something very like patient and
+courteous boredom in him, when he was confronted with some sentimental
+and egotistical character, was interpretated as a sad and remote
+unworldliness. Someone writing of him spoke of his abstracted and
+far-off mood, with his eyes indwelling in a rapture of hallowed thought.
+This seems to me wholly unlike Hugh. He was far more likely to have been
+considering how he could get away to something which interested him
+more.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh's was really a very fresh and sparkling nature, never insipid,
+intent from morning to night on a vital enjoyment of life in all its
+aspects. I do not mean that he was always wanting to be amused&mdash;it was
+very far from that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> Amusement was the spring of his social mood; but he
+had a passion too for silence and solitude. His devotions were eagerly
+and rapturously practised; then he turned to his work. "Writing seems to
+me now the only thing worth doing in the world," he says in one of his
+letters when he was deep in a book. Then he flung himself into gardening
+and handicraft, back again to his writings, or his correspondence, and
+again to his prayers.</p>
+
+<p>But it is impossible to select one of his moods, and to say that his
+true life lay there. His life lay in all of them. If work was tedious to
+him, he comforted himself with the thought that it would soon be done.
+He was an excellent man of affairs, never "slothful in business," but
+with great practical ability. He made careful bargains for his books,
+and looked after his financial interests tenaciously and diligently,
+with a definite purpose always in his mind. He lived, I am sure, always
+looking forward and anticipating. I do not believe he dwelt at all upon
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> past. It was life in which he was interested. As I walked with my
+mother about the beautiful garden, after his funeral, I said to her: "It
+seems almost too pathetic to be borne that Hugh should just have
+completed all this." "Yes," she said, "but I am sure we ought to think
+only that it meant to him seven years of very great happiness." That was
+perfectly true! If he had been called upon to leave Hare Street to take
+up some important work elsewhere, he would certainly not have dwelt on
+the pathetic side of it himself. He would have had a pang, as when he
+kissed the doorposts of his room at Mirfield on departing. But he would
+have gone forward, and he would have thought of it no more. He had a
+supreme power of casting things behind him, and he was far too intent on
+the present to have indulged in sentimental reveries of what had been.</p>
+
+<p>It is clear to me, from what the doctors said after his death, that if
+the pneumonia which supervened upon great exhaustion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> had been averted,
+he would have had to give up much of his work for a long time, and
+devote himself to rest and deliberate idleness. I cannot conceive how he
+would have borne it. He came once to be my companion for a few days,
+when I was suffering from a long period of depression and overwork. I
+could do nothing except answer a few letters. I could neither write nor
+read, and spent much of my time in the open air, and more in drowsing in
+misery over an unread book. Hugh, after observing me for a little,
+advised me to work quite deliberately, and to divide up my time among
+various occupations. It would have been useless to attempt it, for
+Nature was at work recuperating in her own way by an enforced
+listlessness and dreariness. But I have often since then thought how
+impossible it would have been for him to have endured such a condition.
+He had nothing passive about him; and I feel that he had every right to
+live his life on his own lines, to neglect warnings, to refuse advice. A
+man must find out his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> own method, and take the risks which it may
+involve. And though I would have done and given anything to have kept
+him with us, and though his loss is one which I feel daily and
+constantly, yet I would not have it otherwise. He put into his life an
+energy of activity and enjoyment such as I have rarely seen. He gave his
+best lavishly and ungrudgingly. Even the dreadful and tragical things
+which he had to face he took with a relish of adventure. He has told me
+of situations in which he found himself, from which he only saved
+himself by entire coolness and decisiveness, the retrospect of which he
+actually enjoyed. "It was truly awful!" he would say, with a shiver of
+pleasing horror. But it was all worked into a rich and glowing tapestry,
+which he wove with all his might, and the fineness of his life seems to
+me to consist in this, that he made his own choices, found out the
+channels in which his powers could best move, and let the stream gush
+forth. He did not shelter himself fastidiously, or creep away out of the
+glare and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> noise. He took up the staff and scrip of pilgrimage, and,
+while he kept his eyes on the Celestial City, he enjoyed every inch of
+the way, as well the assaults and shadows and the toils as the houses of
+kindly entertainment, with all their curious contents, the talk of
+fellow-pilgrims, the arbours of refreshment, until his feet touched the
+brink of the river, and even there he went fearlessly forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>RETROSPECT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Now that I have traced the progress of Hugh's outer life from step to
+step, I will try to indicate what in the region of mind and soul his
+progress was, and I would wish to do this with particular care, even it
+the risk of repeating myself somewhat, because I believe that his nature
+was one that changed in certain ways very much; it widened and deepened
+greatly, and most of all in the seven last years of his life, when I
+believe that he found himself in the best and truest sense.</p>
+
+<p>As a boy, up to the age of eighteen or nineteen, it was, I believe, a
+vivid and unreflective nature, much absorbed in the little pattern of
+life as he saw it, neither expansive nor fed upon secret visions. It was
+always a decided nature. He never, as a child, needed to be amused; he
+never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> said, "What shall I do? Tell me what to do!" He liked constant
+companionship, but he had always got little businesses of his own going
+on; he joined in games, and joined keenly in them, but if a public game
+was not to his taste, he made no secret that he was bored, and, if he
+was released, he went off on his own errands. I do not remember that he
+ever joined in a general game because of any sociable impulse merely,
+but because it amused him; and if he separated himself and went off, he
+had no resentment nor any pathetic feeling about being excluded.</p>
+
+<p>When he went on to school he lived a sociable but isolated life. His
+companions were companions rather than friends. He did not, I think,
+ever form a romantic and adoring friendship, such as are common enough
+with emotional boys. He did not give his heart away; he just took a
+vivid and animated interest in the gossip, the interplay, the factions
+and parties of his circle; but it was all rather a superficial life&mdash;he
+used to say that he had neither<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> aims nor ambitions&mdash;he took very little
+interest in his work and not much interest in games. He just desired to
+escape censure, and he was not greedy of praise. There was nothing
+listless or dreamy about it all. If he neglected his work, it was
+because he found talk and laughter more interesting. No string ran
+through his days; they were just to be taken as they came, enjoyed,
+dismissed. But he never wanted to appear other than he was, or to be
+admired or deferred to. There was never any sense of pose about hint nor
+the smallest affectation. He was very indifferent as to what was thought
+of him, and not sensitive; but he held his own, and insisted on his
+rights, allowed no dictation, followed no lead. All the time, I suppose,
+he was gathering in impressions of the outsides of things&mdash;he did not
+dip beyond that: he was full of quite definite tastes, desires, and
+prejudices; and though he was interested in life, he was not
+particularly interested in what lay behind it. He was not in the least
+impressionable, in the sense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> that others influenced or diverted him
+from his own ideas.</p>
+
+<p>Neither had he any strong intellectual bent. The knowledge which he
+needed he acquired quickly and soon forgot it. I do not think he ever
+went deeply into things in those early days, or tried to perfect himself
+in any sort of knowledge. He was neither generous nor acquisitive; he
+was detached, and always rather apt to put his little possessions away
+and to forget about them. It was always the present he was concerned
+with; he did not deal with the past nor with the future.</p>
+
+<p>Then after what had been not so much a slumber of the spirit as a vivid
+living among immediate impressions, the artistic nature began to awake
+in him. Music, architecture, ceremony, began to make their appeal felt;
+and he then first recognised the beauty of literary style. But even so,
+he did not fling himself creatively into any of these things at first,
+even as an amateur; it was still the perception of effects that he was
+concerned with.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was then, during his first year at Cambridge, that the first
+promptings of a vocation made themselves felt towards the priesthood.
+But he was as yet wholly unaware of his powers of expression; and I am
+sure that his first leanings to the clerical life were a search for a
+quiet and secluded fortress, away from the world, in which he might
+pursue an undisturbed and ordered life of solemnity and delicate
+impressions of a sacred sort of beauty. His desire for community life
+was caused by his decided dislike of the world, of fuss and tedium and
+conventional occupations. He was never in the least degree a typical
+person. He had no wish to be distinguished, or to influence other minds
+or lives, or to gain honour or consideration. These things simply
+appeared to him as not worth striving for. What he desired was
+companionship of a sympathetic kind and the opportunity of living among
+the pursuits he liked best. He never wished to try experiments, and it
+was always with a spectacular interest that he regarded the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His call was very real, and deeply felt, and he waited for a whole year
+to make sure of it; but he found full decision at last.</p>
+
+<p>Then came his first ministerial work at the Eton Mission; and this did
+not satisfy him; his strength emerged in the fact that he did not adopt
+or defer to the ideals he found about him: a weaker character would have
+embraced them half-heartedly, tried to smother its own convictions, and
+might have ended by habituating itself to a system. But Hugh was still,
+half unconsciously, perhaps, in search of his real life; he did not
+profess to be guided by anyone, nor did he ever suspend his own judgment
+as to the worth of what he was doing; a manly and robust philanthropy on
+Christian lines was not to his taste. His instinct was rather for the
+beautiful element in religion and in life, and for a mystical
+consecration of all to God. That did not seem to him to be recognised in
+the work which he was doing. If he had been less independent, he might
+have crushed it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> down, and come to view it as a private fancy. He might
+have said to himself that it was plain that many human spirits did not
+feel that more delicate appeal, and that his duty was to meet other
+natures on some common ground.</p>
+
+<p>It is by such sacrifices of personal bias that much of the original
+force of the world is spoiled and wasted. It may be a noble sacrifice,
+and it is often nobly made. But Hugh was not cast in that mould. His
+effectiveness was to lie in the fact that he could disregard many
+ordinary motives. He could frankly admire other methods of work, and yet
+be quite sure that his own powers did not lie in that direction. But
+though he was modest and not at all self-assertive, he never had the
+least submissiveness nor subservience; nor was he capable of making any
+pretences.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes it seems to happen that men are punished for wilfulness of
+choice by missing great opportunities. A nature which cannot compromise
+anything, cannot ignore details, cannot work with others, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> sometimes
+condemned to a fruitless isolation. But it would be wrong to disregard
+the fact that circumstances more than once came to Hugh's aid; I see
+very clearly how he was, so to speak, headed off, as by some Fatherly
+purpose, from wasting his life in ineffectual ways. Probably he might
+have worked on at the Eton Mission, might have lost heart and vigour,
+might never have discovered his real powers, if he had not been rescued.
+His illness at this juncture cut the knot for him; and then followed a
+time of travel in Egypt, in the Holy Land, which revived again his sense
+of beauty and width and proportion.</p>
+
+<p>And then followed his Kemsing curacy; I have a letter written to me from
+Kemsing in his first weeks there, in which he describes it as a paradise
+and says that, so far as he can see, it is exactly the life he most
+desires, and that he hopes to spend the rest of his days there.</p>
+
+<p>But now I feel that he took a very real step forward. The danger was
+that he would adopt a dilettante life. He had still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> not discovered his
+powers of expression, which developed late. He was only just beginning
+to preach with effect, and his literary power was practically
+undeveloped. He might have chosen to live a harmless, quiet,
+beauty-loving life, kindly and guileless, in a sort of religious
+&aelig;stheticism; though the vivid desire for movement and even excitement
+that characterised his later life would perhaps have in any case
+developed.</p>
+
+<p>But something stronger and sterner awoke in him. I believe that it was
+exactly because the cup, mixed to his taste, was handed to him that he
+was able to see that there was nothing that was invigorating about the
+potion. It was not the community life primarily which drew him to
+Mirfield; it was partly that his power of speech awoke, and more
+strongly still the idea of self-discipline.</p>
+
+<p>And so he went to Mirfield, and then all his powers came with a rush in
+that studious, sympathetic, and ascetic atmosphere. He was in his
+twenty-eighth year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> He began by finding that he could preach with real
+force and power, and two years later, when he wrote <i>The Light
+Invisible</i>, he also discovered his gift of writing; while as a little
+recreation, he took up drawing, and produced a series of sketches, full
+of humour and delicacy, drawn with a fine pen and tinted with coloured
+chalk, which are at all events enough to show what he could have done in
+this direction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2>
+
+<h3>ATTAINMENT</h3>
+
+
+<p>And then Hugh made the great change of his life, and, as a Catholic,
+found his dreams realized and his hopes fulfilled. He found, indeed, the
+life which moves and breathes inside of every faithful creed, the power
+which supplements weakness and represses distraction, the motive for
+glad sacrifice and happy obedience. I can say this thankfully enough,
+though in many ways I confess to being at the opposite pole of religious
+thought. He found relief from decision and rest from conflict. He found
+sympathy and confidence, a sense of corporate union, and above all a
+mystical and symbolical devotion embodied in a great and ancient
+tradition, which was visibly and audibly there with a movement like a
+great tide, instead of a scheme of worship which had, he thought,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> in
+the Anglican Church, to be eclectically constructed by a group or a
+circle. Every part of his nature was fed and satisfied; and then, too,
+he found in the Roman Catholic community in England that sort of eager
+freemasonry which comes of the desire to champion a cause that has won a
+place for itself, and influence and respect, but which is yet so much
+opposed to national tendencies as to quicken the sense of active
+endeavour and eager expectation.</p>
+
+<p>After his quiet period of study and thought in Rome and at Llandaff
+House, came the time when he was attached to the Roman Catholic Church
+in Cambridge; and this, though not congenial to him, gave him an insight
+into methods and conditions; and all the while his own forces and
+qualities were learning how to concentrate and express themselves. He
+learned to write, he learned to teach, to preach, to speak, to be his
+own natural self, with all his delicate and ingenuous charm, in the
+presence of a great audience; so that when at last his opportunity came
+to free himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> from official and formal work, he was able to throw all
+his trained faculties into the work which he had at heart. Moreover, he
+found in direction and confession, and in careful discussion with
+inquirers, and in sympathetic aid given to those in trouble, many of the
+secret sorrows, hopes, and emotions of the human heart, so that his
+public work was enforced and sustained by his ever-increasing range of
+private experience.</p>
+
+<p>He never, however, took whole-heartedly to pastoral work. He said
+frankly that he "specialised" in the region of private direction and
+advice; but I doubt if he ever did quite enough general pastoral work of
+a commonplace and humdrum kind to supplement and fill out his experience
+of human nature. He never knew people under quite normal conditions,
+because he felt no interest in normal conditions. He knew men and women
+best under the more abnormal emotion of the confessional; and though he
+used to maintain, if challenged, that penitence was a normal condition,
+yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> his judgment of human beings was, as a consequence, several times
+gravely at fault. He made some unwise friendships, with a guileless
+curiosity, and was obliged, more than once, to extricate himself by
+summary abandonments.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote of himself once, "I am tired to death of giving myself away,
+and finding out too late.... I don't like my tendency to agree with
+people wildly; my continual fault has been to put on too much fuel."
+Like all sensitive people, who desire sympathetic and friendly
+relations, he was apt to discover the best of new acquaintances at once,
+and to evoke in them a similarly genial response. It was not till later,
+when the first conciliatory impulse had died down, that he discovered
+the faults that had been instinctively concealed, and indeed repressed
+by his own personal attractiveness.</p>
+
+<p>He had, too, an excessive confidence in his power of managing a critical
+situation, and several times undertook to reform people in whom
+corruption had gone too far for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> remedy. He believed in his power of
+"breaking" sinners by stern declarations; but he had more than once to
+confess himself beaten, though he never wasted time in deploring
+failures.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Meynell, in his subtle essay which prefaces my brother's little book
+of poems, speaks of the complete subjugation of his will. If I may
+venture to express a different view, I do not feel that Hugh ever
+learned to efface his own will. I do not think his temperament, was made
+on the lines of self-conquest. I should rather say that he had found the
+exact <i>milieu</i> in which he could use his will to the best effect, so
+that it was like the charge of powder within the gun, no longer
+exploding itself vaguely and aimlessly, but all concentrated upon one
+intense and emissive effort. Because the one characteristic of the last
+years of his life was his immense enjoyment of it all. He wrote to a
+friend not long before the end, when he was feeling the strain upon him
+to be heavier than he could bear; after a word or two about the war&mdash;he
+had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> volunteered to go to the front as a chaplain&mdash;he said, "So I am
+staying here as usual; but the incessant demands on my time try me as
+much as shrapnel and bullets." That sentence seems to me to confirm my
+view that he had not so much sacrificed as devoted himself. He never
+gained a serene patience; I have heard him over and over again speak
+with a sigh of his correspondence and the demands it made on him; yet he
+was always faithful to a relation once formed; and the number of letters
+written to single correspondents, which have been sent me, have fairly
+amazed me by their range, their freshness, and their fulness. He was
+deeply interested in many of the letters he received, and gave his best
+in his prompt replies; but he evidently also received an immense number
+of letters from people who did not desire guidance so much as sympathy
+and communication. The inconsiderate egotism of unimaginative and yet
+sensitive people is what creates the burden of such a correspondence;
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> though he answered his letters faithfully and duly, and contrived
+to say much in short space, yet he felt, as I have heard him say, that
+people were merciless; and much of the time he might have devoted to
+creative work, or even to recreation, was consumed in fruitless toil of
+hand and mind. And yet I am sure that he valued the sense that he could
+be useful and serviceable, and that there were many who depended upon
+him for advice and consolation. I believe that his widespread relations
+with so many desirous people gave him a real sense of the fulness and
+richness of life; and its relations. But for all that, I also believe
+that his courtesy and his sense of duty were even more potent in these
+relations than the need of personal affection. I do not mean that there
+was any hardness or coldness about him; but he valued sympathy and
+tranquil friendship more than he pursued intimacy and passionate
+devotion. Yet in the last year or two of his life, I was both struck and
+touched by his evident desire to knit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> up friendships which had been
+severed, and to renew intercourse which had been suspended by his change
+of belief. Whether he had any feeling that his life was precarious, or
+his own time short, I do not know. He never said as much to me. He had,
+of course, used hard words of the Church which he had left, and had said
+things which were not wholly impersonal. But, combative though he was,
+he had no touch of rancour or malice in his nature, and he visibly
+rejoiced in any sign of goodwill.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even so, he was essentially solitary in mind. "When I am alone," he
+once wrote, "I am at my best; and at my worst in company. I am happy and
+capable in loneliness; unhappy, distracted, and ineffective in company."
+And again he wrote, "I am becoming more and more afraid of meeting
+people I want to meet, because my numerous deficiencies are so very
+apparent. For example, I stammer slightly always and badly at times."</p>
+
+<p>This was, I believe, more an instinctive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> shrinking from the expenditure
+of nervous force than anything else, and arose from the feeling that, if
+he had to meet strangers, some brilliancy of contribution would be
+expected of him. I remember how he delighted in the story of Marie
+Bashkirtseff, who, when she was summoned to meet a party of strangers
+who desired to see her, prayed as she entered the room, "Oh God, make me
+worth seeing!" Hugh disliked the possibility of disappointing
+expectations, and thus found the society of unfamiliar people a strain;
+but in family life, and with people whom he knew well, he was always the
+most delightful and charming of companions, quick, ready, and untiring
+in talk. And therefore I imagine that, like all artistic people, he
+found that the pursuit of some chosen train of thought was less of a
+conscious effort to him than the necessity of adapting himself, swiftly
+and dexterously, to new people, whose mental and spiritual atmosphere he
+was obliged to observe and infer. It was all really a sign of the high
+pressure at which he lived,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> and of the price he paid for his vividness
+and animation.</p>
+
+<p>Another source of happiness to him in these last days was his sense of
+power. This was a part of his artistic nature; and I believe that he
+enjoyed to the full the feeling of being able to give people what they
+wanted, to enchant, interest, move, and sway them. This is to some
+natures a great temptation, because they come to desire applause, and to
+hunger for tangible signs of their influence. But Hugh was marvellously
+saved from this, partly by a real modesty which was not only never
+marred, but which I used to think increased with the years. There is a
+story of William Morris, that he could read aloud his own poetry, and at
+the end of a fine stanza would say: "That's jolly!" with an entire
+freedom from conceit, just as dispassionately as he could praise the
+work of another. I used to feel that when Hugh mentioned, as I have
+heard him do, some course of sermons that he was giving, and described
+the queue which formed in the street, and the aisles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> and gangways
+crowded with people standing to hear him, that he did so more
+impersonally than anyone I had ever heard, as though it were a
+delightful adventure, and more a piece of good luck than a testimony to
+his own powers.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_250" id="i_250"></a><img src="images/250.jpg" width="400" height="670" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1912. AGED 40</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>It was the same with his books; he wished them to succeed and enjoyed
+their success, while it was an infinite delight to him to write them.
+But he had no egotism of a commonplace sort about him, and he never
+consciously tried to succeed. Success was just the reverberating echo of
+his own delight.</p>
+
+<p>And thus I do not look upon him as one who had bent and curbed his
+nature by stern self-discipline to do work of a heavy and distasteful
+kind; nor do I think that his dangerous devotion to work was the fierce
+effort of a man who would have wished to rest, yet felt that the time
+was too short for all that he desired to do. I think it was rather the
+far more fruitful energy of one who exulted in expressing himself, in
+giving a brilliant and attract<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>ive shape to his ideas, and who loved,
+too, the varieties and tendencies of human nature, enjoyed moulding and
+directing them, and flung himself with an intense joy of creation into
+all the work which he found ready to his hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>TEMPERAMENT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hugh never seemed to me to treat life in the spirit of a mystic or a
+dreamer, with unshared and secret experiences, withdrawing into his own
+ecstasy, half afraid of life, rapt away into interior visions. Though he
+had a deep curiosity about mystical experiences, he was never a mystic
+in the sense that he had, as great mystics seem to have had, one shell
+less, so to speak, between him and the unseen. He lived in the visible
+and tangible world, loving beautiful secrets; and he was a mystic only
+in the sense that he had an hourly and daily sense of the presence of
+God. He wished to share his dreams and to make known his visions, to
+declare the glory of God and to show His handiwork. He found the world
+more and more inter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>esting, as he came to know it, and in the light of
+the warm welcome it gave him. He had a keen and delicate apprehension of
+spiritual beauty, and the Mass became to him a consummation of all that
+he held most holy and dear. He had recognised a mystical presence in the
+Church of England, but he found a supernatural presence in the Church of
+Rome; yet he had, too, the instinct of the poet, to translate into form
+and substance his inmost and sweetest joy, and to lavish it upon others.
+No one dares to speak of great poets and seers as men who have profaned
+a mystery by making it known. The deeper that the poet's sense of beauty
+is, the more does he thirst to communicate it. It is far too divine and
+tremendous to be secretly and selfishly enjoyed.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible, of course, that Hugh may have given to those who did not
+see him constantly in everyday familiar intercourse, the sense of a
+courteous patience and a desire to do full justice to a claim. Still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+more may he have given this impression on social occasions and at
+conventional gatherings. Interviews and so-called festivities were apt
+to be a weariness to him, because they seemed so great an expenditure of
+time and force for very scanty results; but I always felt him to be one
+of the most naturally courteous people I have ever seen. He hated to be
+abrupt, to repel, to hurt, to wound feelings, to disappoint; yet on such
+occasions his natural courtesy was struggling with a sense of the waste
+of time involved and the interruptions caused. I remember his writing to
+me from the Catholic rectory when he was trying to finish a book and to
+prepare for a course of sermons, and lamenting that he was "driven
+almost mad" by ceaseless interviews with people who did not, he
+declared, want criticism or advice, but simply the luxury of telling a
+long story for the sake of possible adulation. "I am quite ready to see
+people," he added, "if only they would ask me to appoint a time, instead
+of simply flinging themselves upon me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> whenever it happens to be
+convenient to them."</p>
+
+<p>I do not think he ever grudged the time to people in difficulties when
+he felt he could really help and save. That seemed to him an opportunity
+of using all his powers; and when he took a soul in hand, he could
+display a certain sternness, and even ruthlessness, in dealing with it.
+"You need not consult me at all, but if you do you must carry out
+exactly what I tell you," he could say; but he did grudge time and
+attention given to mild sentimentalists, who were not making any way,
+but simply dallying with tragic emotions excitedly and vainly.</p>
+
+<p>This courtesy was part of a larger quality, a certain knightly and
+chivalrous sense, which is best summed up in the old word "gentleman." A
+priest told me that soon after Hugh's death he had to rebuke a tipsy
+Irishman, who was an ardent Catholic and greatly devoted to Hugh. The
+priest said, "Are you not ashamed to think that Monsignor's eye may be
+on you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> now, and that he may see how you disgrace yourself?" To which,
+he said, the Irishman replied, with perhaps a keener insight into Hugh's
+character than his director, "Oh no, I can trust Monsignor not to take
+advantage of me. I am sure that he will not come prying and spying
+about. He always believed whatever I chose to tell him, God bless him!"
+Hugh could be hard and unyielding on occasions, but he was wholly
+incapable of being suspicious, jealous, malicious, or spiteful. He made
+friends once with a man of morbid, irritable, and resentful tendencies,
+who had continued, all his life, to make friends by his brilliance and
+to lose them by his sharp, fierce, and contemptuous animosities. This
+man eventually broke with him altogether, and did his best by a series
+of ingenious and wicked letters to damage Hugh's character in all
+directions. I received one of those documents and showed it to Hugh. I
+was astonished at his courage and even indifference. I myself should
+have been anxious and despondent at the thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> such evil innuendoes
+and gross misrepresentations being circulated, and still more at the
+sort of malignant hatred from which they proceeded. Hugh took the letter
+and smiled. "Oh," he said, "I have put my case before the people who
+matter, and you can't do anything. He is certainly mad, or on the verge
+of madness. Don't answer it&mdash;you will only be drenched with these
+communications. I don't trouble my head about it." "But don't you mind?"
+I said. "No," he said, "I'm quite callous! Of course I am sorry that he
+should be such a beast, but I can't help that. I have done my best to
+make it up&mdash;but it is hopeless." And it was clear from the way he
+changed the subject that he had banished the whole matter from his mind.
+At a later date, when the letters to him grew more abusive, I was told
+by one who was living with him, that he would even put one up on his
+chimney-piece and point it out to visitors.</p>
+
+<p>I always thought that he had a very conspicuous and high sort of
+courage, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> only in facing disagreeable and painful things, but in not
+dwelling on them either before or after. This was never more entirely
+exemplified than by the way he faced his operation, and indeed, most
+heroically of all, in the way in which he died. There was a sense of
+great adventure&mdash;there is no other word for it&mdash;about that, as of a man
+going on a fateful voyage; a courage so great that he did not even lose
+his interest in the last experiences of life. His demeanour was not
+subdued or submissive; he did not seem to be asking for strength to bear
+or courage to face the last change. He was more like the happy warrior</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i14">"Attired<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sudden brightness, as a man inspired."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a name="i_258" id="i_258"></a><img src="images/258.jpg" width="400" height="572" alt="ROBERT HUGH BENSON" title="" />
+<span class="caption">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</span><br />
+<span class="caption2">IN 1912. AGED 41</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>He did not lose control of himself, nor was he carried helplessly down
+the stream. He was rather engaged in a conflict which was not a losing
+one. He had often thought of death, and even thought that he feared it;
+but now that it was upon him he would taste it fully, he would see what
+it was like.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> The day before, when he thought that he might live, there
+was a pre-occupation over him, as though he were revolving the things he
+desired to do; but when death came upon him unmistakably there was no
+touch of self-pity or impressiveness. He had just to die, and he devoted
+his swift energies to it, as he had done to living. I never saw him so
+splendid and noble as he was at that last awful moment. Life did not ebb
+away, but he seemed to fling it from him, so that it was not as the
+death of a weary man sinking to rest, but like the eager transit of a
+soldier to another part of the field.</p>
+
+<p>"Could it have been avoided?" I said to the kind and gentle doctor who
+saw Hugh through the last days of his life, and loved him very tenderly
+and faithfully. "Well, in one sense, 'yes,'" he replied. "If he had
+worked less, rested more, taken things more easily, he might have lived
+longer. He had a great vitality; but most people die of being
+themselves; and we must all live as we are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> made to live. It was
+Monsignor's way to put the work of a month into a week; he could not do
+otherwise&mdash;I cannot think of Monsignor as sitting with folded hands."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2>
+
+
+<p>
+<span class="smcap">Barnes</span>, Monsignor, <a href="#Page_154">154</a><br />
+<br />
+Bashkirtseff, Marie, quoted, <a href="#Page_249">249</a><br />
+<br />
+Bec, Bishop Anthony, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br />
+<br />
+Belloc, Mr., <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br />
+<br />
+Benson, Archbishop (father), <a href="#Page_15">15-17</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46-47</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">characteristics, <a href="#Page_34">34-39</a>;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letters quoted, <a href="#Page_53">53-55</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71-74</a>;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">ordains his son, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></span><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Mrs. (mother), <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74-80</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149-150</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted, <a href="#Page_31">31-32</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118-119</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">visit to Egypt, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></span><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Fred (brother), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26-27</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Maggie (sister), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Martin (brother), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></span><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Nelly (sister), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death, <a href="#Page_79">79-80</a></span><br />
+<br />
+Beth (nurse), <a href="#Page_20">20-24</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">letter quoted, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></span><br />
+<br />
+Bradley, Dr., <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">quoted, <a href="#Page_260">260-261</a></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>By What Authority</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Carlyle</span>, Thomas, quoted, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br />
+<br />
+Carter, Archbishop William, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Confessions of a Convert, The</i>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Conventionalists, The</i>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a><br />
+<br />
+Cornish, Mr., <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Coward, The</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Decemviri</span> <i>Club</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br />
+<br />
+Donaldson, Archbishop St. Clair, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Edward</span> VII; King, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br />
+<br />
+Elizabeth, Queen, <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br />
+<br />
+Eton, influence of, <a href="#Page_48">48-51</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Mission, 89 seq., <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134-136</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">George</span> V, H. M. King, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br />
+<br />
+Gladstone, W. E., <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Mrs., <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br />
+<br />
+Gore, Bishop, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108-109</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br />
+<br />
+Gorman, Father, <a href="#Page_194">194</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Halifax</span>, Lord, <a href="#Page_128">128</a><br />
+<br />
+Hare Street, 168 seq., <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">village, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Hill of Trouble, The</i>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a><br />
+<br />
+Hogg, Sir James McGarel (afterwards Lord Magheramorne), <a href="#Page_32">32</a><br />
+<br />
+Hormead Mission, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br />
+<br />
+Hornby, Provost, <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br />
+<br />
+House of the Resurrection. <i>See</i> under Mirfield Community<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Job</span>, quoted, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br />
+<br />
+John Inglesant, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br />
+<br />
+Johnson, Dr., quoted, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br />
+<br />
+Jowett, B., <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Kenmare</span>, Lord, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Leith</span>, Dr., <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Light Invisible, The</i>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br />
+<br />
+Lindsay, Ken, <a href="#Page_168">168-169</a><br />
+<br />
+Lyttelton, Edward, <a href="#Page_44">44</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Maclagan</span>, Archbishop, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br />
+<br />
+Marshall (family), <a href="#Page_190">190</a><br />
+<br />
+Martin, Sir George, <a href="#Page_58">58</a><br />
+<br />
+Mason, Canon Arthur, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a><br />
+<br />
+Maturin, Father, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br />
+<br />
+Meynell, Mr., <a href="#Page_245">245</a><br />
+<br />
+Mirfield Community, <a href="#Page_103">103-104</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br />
+<br />
+Morris, William, <a href="#Page_250">250</a><br />
+<br />
+Murray, Prof., <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Norway</span>, King of, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Parsons</span>, Rev. Mr., <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br />
+<br />
+Peel, Sidney, <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br />
+<br />
+Penny, Mr., <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br />
+<br />
+Persia, Shah of, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br />
+<br />
+Pippet, Gabriel, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br />
+<br />
+Pitt Club, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br />
+<br />
+Potter, Norman, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Reeman</span>, Joseph, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br />
+<br />
+Reeve, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Richard Raynal, Solitary</i>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a><br />
+<br />
+Ritual, <a href="#Page_60">60-63</a><br />
+<br />
+Roddy, <i>collie</i>, <a href="#Page_126">126-128</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">St. Hugh</span>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Monastery of, <a href="#Page_129">129</a><br />
+<br />
+Salford Cathedral, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br />
+<br />
+Scott, Canon, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br />
+<br />
+Selborne, Lord, quoted, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br />
+<br />
+Sessions, Dr., <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br />
+<br />
+Sharrock, Canon, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br />
+<br />
+Sidgwick, Arthur, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Henry (uncle), <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Mrs. (grandmother), <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; Nora (Mrs. Henry Sidgwick) (aunt), <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a><br />
+<br />
+&mdash;&mdash; William (uncle), <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br />
+<br />
+Skarratt, Rev. Mr., <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br />
+<br />
+Spiers, Mr., <a href="#Page_54">54-55</a><br />
+<br />
+Stanmore, Lord, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br />
+<br />
+Stevenson, R. L., <a href="#Page_121">121</a><br />
+<br />
+<i>Streets and Lanes of the City</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Tait</span>, Miss Lucy, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br />
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>Temple, Archbishop, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br />
+<br />
+Tennyson's "Mort d'Arthur," <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br />
+<br />
+Todd, Dr., Ross, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br />
+<br />
+Tyrell, Father, <a href="#Page_144">144</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Vaughn, Dean, <a href="#Page_81">81-84</a><br />
+<br />
+Vaughn, Mrs., <a href="#Page_83">83-85</a><br />
+<br />
+Victoria, Queen, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Wales</span>, Prince and Princess of, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br />
+<br />
+Walpole, Bishop G. H. S., <a href="#Page_34">34</a><br />
+<br />
+Warre, Dr., <a href="#Page_46">46</a><br />
+<br />
+Watson, Bishop, <a href="#Page_154">154</a><br />
+<br />
+Watt, Father, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br />
+<br />
+Wellington College, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br />
+<br />
+Westcott, Bishop, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br />
+<br />
+Westminster, Cardinal Archbishop of, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br />
+<br />
+Whitaker, Canon G. H., <a href="#Page_34">34</a><br />
+<br />
+Wilkinson, Bishop, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br />
+<br />
+Woodchester Dominican Convent, <a href="#Page_146">146</a><br />
+<br />
+Wordsworth, Bishop John, <a href="#Page_128">128</a><br />
+<br />
+Wren, Mr., <a href="#Page_52">52</a><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hugh, by Arthur Christopher Benson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Hugh
+       Memoirs of a Brother
+
+
+Author: Arthur Christopher Benson
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006  [eBook #18615]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUGH***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stacy Brown, Geoff Horton, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 18615-h.htm or 18615-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/1/18615/18615-h/18615-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/1/18615/18615-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+HUGH
+
+Memoirs of a Brother
+
+by
+
+ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
+
+Fifth Impression
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _But there is more than I can see,
+      And what I see I leave unsaid,
+      Nor speak it, knowing Death has made
+    His darkness beautiful with thee._
+
+
+[Illustration: _From Copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York_
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+IN 1912. AGED 40
+In the robes of a Papal Chamberlain.]
+
+
+
+Longmans, Green, and Co.
+Fourth Avenue & 30th Street, New York
+1916
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+This book was begun with no hope or intention of making a formal and
+finished biography, but only to place on record some of my brother's
+sayings and doings, to fix scenes and memories before they suffered from
+any dim obliteration of time, to catch, if I could, for my own comfort
+and delight, the tone and sense of that vivid and animated atmosphere
+which Hugh always created about him. His arrival upon any scene was
+never in the smallest degree uproarious, and still less was it in the
+least mild or serene; yet he came into a settled circle like a freshet
+of tumbling water into a still pool!
+
+I knew all along that I could not attempt any account of what may be
+called his public life, which all happened since he became a Roman
+Catholic. He passed through many circles--in England, in Rome, in
+America--of which I knew nothing. I never heard him make a public
+speech, and I only once heard him preach since he ceased to be an
+Anglican. This was not because I thought he would convert me, nor
+because I shrank from hearing him preach a doctrine to which I did not
+adhere, nor for any sectarian reason. Indeed, I regret not having heard
+him preach and speak oftener; it would have interested me, and it would
+have been kinder and more brotherly; but one is apt not to do the things
+which one thinks one can always do, and the fact that I did not hear him
+was due to a mixture of shyness and laziness, which I now regret in
+vain.
+
+But I think that his life as a Roman Catholic ought to be written fully
+and carefully, because there were many people who trusted and admired
+and loved him as a priest who would wish to have some record of his
+days. He left me, by a will, which we are carrying out, though it was
+not duly executed, all his letters, papers, and manuscripts, and we
+have arranged to have an official biography of him written, and have
+placed all his papers in the hands of a Catholic biographer, Father C.
+C. Martindale, S.J.
+
+Since Hugh died I have read a good many notices of him, which have
+appeared mostly in Roman Catholic organs. These were, as a rule, written
+by people who had only known him as a Catholic, and gave an obviously
+incomplete view of his character and temperament. It could not well have
+been otherwise, but the result was that only one side of a very varied
+and full life was presented. He was depicted in a particular office and
+in a specific mood. This was certainly his most real and eager mood, and
+deserves to be emphasized. But he had other moods and other sides, and
+his life before he became a Catholic had a charm and vigour of its own.
+
+Moreover, his family affection was very strong; when he became a
+Catholic, we all of us felt, including himself, that there might be a
+certain separation, not of affection, but of occupations and interests;
+and he himself took very great care to avoid this, with the happy result
+that we saw him, I truly believe, more often and more intimately than
+ever before. Indeed, my own close companionship with him really began
+when he came first as a Roman Catholic to Cambridge.
+
+And so I have thought it well to draw in broad strokes and simple
+outlines a picture of his personality as we, his family, knew and loved
+it. It is only a _study_, so to speak, and is written very informally
+and directly. Formal biographies, as I know from experience, must
+emphasise a different aspect. They deal, as they are bound to do, with
+public work and official activities; and the personal atmosphere often
+vanishes in the process--that subtle essence of quality, the effect of a
+man's talk and habits and prejudices and predispositions, which comes
+out freely in private life, and is even suspended in his public
+ministrations. It would be impossible, I believe, to make a presentment
+of Hugh which could be either dull or conventional. But, on the other
+hand, his life as a priest, a writer, a teacher, a controversialist, was
+to a certain extent governed and conditioned by circumstances; and I can
+see, from many accounts of him, that the more intimate and unrestrained
+side of him can only be partially discerned by those who knew him merely
+in an official capacity.
+
+That, then, is the history of this brief Memoir. It is just an attempt
+to show Hugh as he showed himself, freely and unaffectedly, to his own
+circle; and I am sure that this deserves to be told, for the one
+characteristic which emerges whenever I think of him is that of a
+beautiful charm, not without a touch of wilfulness and even petulance
+about it, which gave him a childlike freshness, a sparkling zest, that
+aerated and enlivened all that he did or said. It was a charm which made
+itself instantly felt, and yet it could be hardly imitated or adopted,
+because it was so entirely unconscious and unaffected. He enjoyed
+enacting his part, and he was as instinctively and whole-heartedly a
+priest as another man is a soldier or a lawyer. But his function did not
+wholly occupy and dominate his life; and, true priest though he was, the
+force and energy of his priesthood came at least in part from the fact
+that he was entirely and delightfully human, and I deeply desire that
+this should not be overlooked or forgotten.
+
+                                                 A. C. B.
+
+  Tremans, Horsted Keynes,
+
+    _December_ 26, 1914.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I
+
+HARE STREET                                              PAGES
+
+Garden--House--Rooms--Tapestry--Hare
+Street Discovered--A Hidden Treasure                      1-14
+
+
+II
+
+CHILDHOOD
+
+Birth--The Chancery--Beth                                15-24
+
+
+III
+
+TRURO
+
+Lessons--Early Verses--Physical Sensitiveness--A
+Secret Society--My Father--A Puppet-Show                 25-41
+
+
+IV
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+First Schooldays--Eton--Religious Impressions--A
+Colleger                                                 42-51
+
+
+V
+
+AT WREN'S
+
+Sunday Work--Artistic
+Temperament--Liturgy--Ritual--Artistic Nature            52-65
+
+
+VI
+
+CAMBRIDGE
+
+Mountain--climbing--Genealogy--Economy--Hypnotism--The
+Call--My Mother--Nelly                                   66-81
+
+
+VII
+
+LLANDAFF
+
+Dean Vaughan--Community Life--Ordained Deacon            82-88
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE ETON MISSION
+
+Hackney Wick--Boys' Clubs--Preaching--My
+Father's Death                                           89-99
+
+
+IX
+
+KEMSING AND MIRFIELD
+
+Development--Mirfield--The
+Community--Sermons--Preaching                          100-113
+
+
+X
+
+THE CHANGE
+
+Leaving Mirfield--Considerations--Argument--
+Discussion--Roddy--Consultation                        114-129
+
+
+XI
+
+THE DECISION
+
+Anglicanism--Individualism--Asceticism--A
+Centre of Unity--Liberty and Discipline--
+Catholicism--The Surrender--Reception--Rome            130-151
+
+
+XII
+
+CAMBRIDGE AGAIN
+
+Llandaff House--Our Companionship--Rudeness--The
+Catholic Rectory--Spiritual Direction--
+Mystery-Plays--Retirement                              152-167
+
+
+XIII
+
+HARE STREET
+
+Ken--Engagements--Christmas--Visits                    168-175
+
+
+XIV
+
+AUTHORSHIP
+
+The Light Invisible--His Books--Methods of
+Writing--Love of Writing--The Novels                   176-187
+
+
+XV
+
+FAILING HEALTH
+
+Illness--Medical advice--Pneumonia                     188-195
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE END
+
+Manchester--Last Illness--Last Hours--Anxiety--Last
+Words--Passing on                                      196-208
+
+
+XVII
+
+BURIAL
+
+His Papers--After-Thoughts--The Bond of Love           209-215
+
+
+XVIII
+
+PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
+
+Courage--Humour--Manliness--Stammering--
+Eagerness--Independence--Forward                       216-230
+
+
+XIX
+
+RETROSPECT
+
+Boyhood--Vocation--Independence--Self-Discipline       231-240
+
+
+XX
+
+ATTAINMENT
+
+Priesthood--Self-Devotion--Sympathy--Power--Energy     241-252
+
+
+XXI
+
+TEMPERAMENT
+
+Courtesy--Chivalry--Fearlessness--Himself              253-261
+
+
+INDEX                                                  263-265
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 40.
+In the Robes of a Papal Chamberlain             _Frontispiece_
+  _From copyrighted Photo by Sarony, Inc., New York._
+
+Hare Street House                                _Facing page_
+  From the front, 1914                                       2
+  From the garden, 1914                                      4
+
+The Master's Lodge, Wellington College, 1868                16
+
+Robert Hugh Benson and Beth at the Chancery,
+Lincoln, in 1876, aged 5                                    20
+
+The Three Brothers, 1882                                    44
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1889, aged 17. As
+Steerer of the _St. George_, at Eton                        48
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1893, aged 21. As an
+Undergraduate at Cambridge                                  68
+
+Mrs. Benson                                                 76
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1907, aged 35                        158
+
+At Hare Street, 1909                                       168
+
+Hare Street, in the Garden, July 1911                      174
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1910, aged 39                        184
+
+At Tremans, Horsted Keynes, December, 1913                 188
+
+Bishop's House, Salford                                    200
+
+The Calvary at Hare Street, 1913                           208
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 40                        250
+
+Robert Hugh Benson in 1912, aged 41                        258
+
+
+
+
+      "Then said _Great-heart_ to Mr. _Valiant-for-Truth_, Thou hast
+      worthily behaved thyself. Let me see thy Sword. So he shewed it
+      him. When he had taken it in his hand, and looked thereon a while,
+      he said, _Ha, it is a right Jerusalem Blade!_"
+
+      _The Pilgrim's Progress._
+
+
+
+
+HUGH
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+HARE STREET
+
+
+How loudly and boisterously the wind roared to-day across the low-hung,
+cloud-smeared sky, driving the broken rack before it, warm and wet out
+of the south! What a wintry landscape! leafless trees bending beneath
+the onset of the wind, bare and streaming hedges, pale close-reaped
+wheat-fields, brown ploughland, spare pastures stretching away to left
+and right, softly rising and falling to the horizon; nothing visible but
+distant belts of trees and coverts, with here and there the tower of a
+hidden church overtopping them, and a windmill or two; on the left, long
+lines of willows marking the course of a stream. The road soaked with
+rain, the grasses heavy with it, hardly a human being to be seen.
+
+I came at last to a village straggling along each side of the road; to
+the right, a fantastic-looking white villa, with many bow-windows, and
+an orchard behind it. Then on the left, a great row of beeches on the
+edge of a pasture; and then, over the barns and ricks of a farm, rose
+the clustered chimneys of an old house; and soon we drew up at a big
+iron gate between tall red-brick gateposts; beyond it a paling, with a
+row of high lime trees bordering a garden lawn, and on beyond that the
+irregular village street.
+
+From the gate a little flagged pathway leads up to the front of a long,
+low house, of mellow brick, with a solid cornice and parapet, over which
+the tiled roof is visible: a door in the centre, with two windows on
+each side and five windows above--just the sort of house that you find
+in a cathedral close. To the left of the iron gate are two other tall
+gateposts, with a road leading up to the side of the house, and a yard
+with a row of stables behind.
+
+Let me describe the garden first. All along the front and south side of
+the house runs a flagged pathway, a low brick wall dividing it from the
+lawn, with plants in rough red pots on little pilasters at intervals. To
+the right, as we face the door, the lawn runs along the road, and
+stretches back into the garden. There are tall, lopped lime-trees all
+round the lawn, in the summer making a high screen of foliage, but now
+bare. If we take the flagged path round the house, turn the corner, and
+go towards the garden, the yew trees grow thick and close, forming an
+arched walk at the corner, half screening an old irregular building of
+woodwork and plaster, weather-boarded in places, with a tiled roof,
+connected with the house by a little covered cloister with wooden
+pillars. If we pass that by, pursuing the path among the yew trees, we
+come out on a pleasant orchard, with a few flower-beds, thickly
+encircled by shrubs, beyond which, towards the main road, lies a
+comfortable-looking old red-brick cottage, with a big barn and a long
+garden, which evidently belongs to the larger house, because a gate in
+the paling stands open. Then there is another little tiled building
+behind the shrubs, where you can hear an engine at work, for electric
+light and water-pumping, and beyond that again, but still connected with
+the main house, stands another house among trees, of rough-cast and
+tiles, with an open wooden gallery, in a garden of its own.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Bishop, Barkway_
+
+HARE STREET HOUSE
+
+FROM THE FRONT 1914
+
+The room to the left of the door is the dining room, with Hugh's bedroom
+over it. To the right of the door is the library.]
+
+In the orchard itself is a large grass-grown mound, with a rough wooden
+cross on the top; and down below that, in the orchard, is a newly-made
+grave, still covered, as I saw it to-day, with wreaths of leaves and
+moss, tied some of them with stained purple ribbons. The edge of the
+grave-mound is turfed, but the bare and trodden grass shows that many
+feet have crossed and recrossed the ground.
+
+The orchard is divided on the left from a further and larger garden by a
+dense growth of old hazels; and passing through an alley you see that a
+broad path runs concealed among the hazels, a pleasant shady walk in
+summer heat. Then the larger garden stretches in front of you; it is a
+big place, with rows of vegetables, fruit-trees, and flower-borders,
+screened to the east by a row of elms and dense shrubberies of laurel.
+Along the north runs a high red-brick wall, with a big old-fashioned
+vine-house in the centre, of careful design. In the corner nearest the
+house is a large rose-garden, with a brick pedestal in the centre,
+behind which rises the back of the stable, also of old red brick.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Bishop, Barkway_
+
+HARE STREET HOUSE
+
+FROM THE GARDEN 1914
+
+The timbered building on the left is the Chapel; in the foreground
+is the unfinished rose-garden.]
+
+But now there is a surprise; the back of the house is much older than
+the front. You see that it is a venerable Tudor building, with pretty
+panels of plaster embossed with a rough pattern. The moulded brick
+chimney-stacks are Tudor too, while the high gables cluster and lean
+together with a picturesque outline. The back of the house forms a
+little court, with the cloister of which I spoke before running round
+two sides of it. Another great yew tree stands there: while a doorway
+going into the timber and plaster building which I mentioned before has
+a rough device on it of a papal tiara and keys, carved in low relief and
+silvered.
+
+A friendly black collie comes out of a kennel and desires a little
+attention. He licks my hand and looks at me with melting brown eyes, but
+has an air of expecting to see someone else as well. A black cat comes
+out of a door, runs beside us, and when picked up, clasps my shoulder
+contentedly and purrs in my ear.
+
+The house seen from the back looks exactly what it is, a little old
+family mansion of a line of small squires, who farmed their own land,
+and lived on their own produce, though the barns and rick-yard belong to
+the house no longer. The red-brick front is just an addition made for
+the sake of stateliness at some time of prosperity. It is a charming
+self-contained little place, with a forgotten family tradition of its
+own, a place which could twine itself about the heart, and be loved and
+remembered by children brought up there, when far away. There is no sign
+of wealth about it, but every sign of ease and comfort and simple
+dignity.
+
+Now we will go back to the front door and go through the house itself.
+The door opens into a tiny hall lighted by the glass panes of the door,
+and bright with pictures--oil paintings and engravings. The furniture
+old and sturdy, and a few curiosities about--carvings, weapons, horns of
+beasts. To the left a door opens into a pleasant dining-room, with two
+windows looking out in front, dark as dining-rooms may well be. It is
+hung with panels of green cloth, it has a big open Tudor fireplace, with
+a big oak settle, some china on an old dresser, a solid table and
+chairs, and a hatch in the corner through which dishes can be handed.
+
+Opposite, on the other side of the hall, a door opens into a long low
+library, with books all round in white shelves. There is a big grand
+piano here, a very solid narrow oak table with a chest below, a bureau,
+and some comfortable chintz-covered chairs with a deep sofa. A perfect
+room to read or to hear music in, with its two windows to the front, and
+a long window opening down to the ground at the south end. All the books
+here are catalogued, and each has its place. If you go out into the hall
+again and pass through, a staircase goes up into the house, the walls of
+it panelled, and hung with engravings; some of the panels are carved
+with holy emblems. At the foot of the stairs a door on the right takes
+you into a small sitting-room, with a huge stone fireplace; a big window
+looks south, past the dark yew trees, on to the lawn. There are little
+devices in the quarries of the window, and a deep window-seat. The room
+is hung with a curious tapestry, brightly coloured mediaeval figures
+standing out from a dark background. There is not room for much
+furniture here; a square oak stand for books, a chair or two by the
+fire. Parallel to the wall, with a chair behind it filling up much of
+the space, is a long, solid old oak table, set out for writing. It is a
+perfect study for quiet work, warm in winter with its log fire, and
+cool in summer heat.
+
+To the left of the staircase a door goes into a roughly panelled
+ante-room which leads out on to the cloister, and beyond that a large
+stone-flagged kitchen, with offices beyond.
+
+If you go upstairs, you find a panelled corridor with bedrooms. The one
+over the study is small and dark, and said to be haunted. That over the
+library is a big pleasant room with a fine marble fireplace--a boudoir
+once, I should think. Over the hall is another dark panelled room with a
+four-post bed, the walls hung with a most singular and rather terrible
+tapestry, representing a dance of death.
+
+Beyond that, over the dining-room, is a beautiful panelled room, with a
+Tudor fireplace, and a bed enclosed by blue curtains. This was Hugh's
+own room. Out of it opens a tiny dressing-room. Beyond that is another
+large low room over the kitchen, which has been half-study,
+half-bedroom, out of which opens a little stairway going to some little
+rooms beyond over the offices.
+
+Above that again are some quaint white-washed attics with dormers and
+leaning walls; one or two of these are bedrooms. One, very large and
+long, runs along most of the front, and has a curious leaden channel in
+it a foot above the floor to take the rain-water off the leads of the
+roof. Out of another comes a sweet smell of stored apples, which revives
+the memory of childish visits to farm storerooms--and here stands a
+pretty and quaint old pipe-organ awaiting renovation.
+
+We must retrace our steps to the building at the back to which the
+cloister leads. We enter a little sacristy and vestry, and beyond is a
+dark chapel, with a side-chapel opening out of it. It was originally an
+old brew-house, with a timbered roof. The sanctuary is now divided off
+by a high open screen, of old oak, reaching nearly to the roof. The
+whole place is full of statues, carved and painted, embroidered
+hangings, stained glass, pendent lamps, emblems; there is a gallery
+over the sacristy, with an organ, and a fine piece of old embroidery
+displayed on the gallery front.
+
+This is the house in which for seven years my brother Hugh lived. Let me
+recall how he first came to see it. He was at Cambridge then, working as
+an assistant priest. He became aware that his work lay rather in the
+direction of speaking, preaching, and writing, and resolved to establish
+himself in some quiet country retreat. One summer I visited several
+houses in Hertfordshire with him, but they proved unsuitable. One of
+these possessed an extraordinary attraction for him. It was in a bleak
+remote village, and it was a fine old house which had fallen from its
+high estate. It stood on the road and was used as a grocer's shop. It
+was much dilapidated, and there was little ground about it, but inside
+there were old frescoes and pictures, strange plaster friezes and
+moulded ceilings, which had once been brightly coloured. But nothing
+would have made it a really attractive house, in spite of the curious
+beauty of its adornment.
+
+One day I was returning alone from an excursion, and passed by what we
+call accident through Hare Street, the village which I have described. I
+caught a glimpse of the house through the iron gates, and saw that there
+was a board up saying it was for sale. A few days later I went there
+with Hugh. It was all extremely desolate, but we found a friendly
+caretaker who led us round. The shrubberies had grown into dense
+plantations, the orchard was a tangled waste of grass, the garden was
+covered with weeds. I remember Hugh's exclamation of regret that we had
+visited the place. "It is _exactly_ what I want," he said, "but it is
+_far_ too expensive. I wish I had never set eyes on it!" However, he
+found that it had long been unlet, and that no one would buy it. He
+might have had the pasture-land and the farm-buildings as well, and he
+afterwards regretted that he had not bought them, but his income from
+writing was still small. However, he offered what seems to me now an
+extraordinarily low sum for the house and garden; it was to his
+astonishment at once accepted. It was all going to ruin, and the owner
+was glad to get rid of it on any terms. He established himself there
+with great expedition, and set to work to renovate the place. At a later
+date he bought the adjacent cottage, and the paddock in which he built
+the other house, and he also purchased some outlying fields, one a
+charming spot on the road to Buntingford, with some fine old trees,
+where he had an idea of building a church.
+
+Everything in the little domain took shape under his skilful hand and
+ingenious brain. He made most of the tapestries in the house with his
+own fingers, working with his friend Mr. Gabriel Pippet the artist. He
+carved much of the panelling--he was extraordinarily clever with his
+hands. He painted many of the pictures which hang on the walls, he
+catalogued the library; he worked day after day in the garden, weeding,
+rowing, and planting. In all this he had the advantage of the skill,
+capacity, and invention of his factotum and friend, Mr. Joseph Reeman,
+who could turn his hand to anything and everything with equal energy and
+taste; and so the whole place grew and expanded in his hands, until
+there is hardly a detail, indoors or out-of-doors, which does not show
+some trace of his fancy and his touch.
+
+There were some strange old traditions about the house; it was said to
+be haunted, and more than one of his guests had inexplicable experiences
+there. It was also said that there was a hidden treasure concealed in or
+about it. That treasure Hugh certainly discovered, in the delight which
+he took in restoring, adorning, and laying it all out. It was a source
+of constant joy to him in his life. And there, in the midst of it all,
+his body lies.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+CHILDHOOD
+
+
+I very well remember the sudden appearance of Hugh in the nursery world,
+and being conducted into a secluded dressing-room, adjacent to the
+nursery, where the tiny creature lay, lost in contented dreams, in a
+big, white-draped, white-hooded cradle. It was just a rather pleasing
+and exciting event to us children, not particularly wonderful or
+remarkable. It was at Wellington College that he was born, in the
+Master's Lodge, in a sunny bedroom, in the south-east corner of the
+house; one of its windows looking to the south front of the college and
+the chapel with its slender spire; the other window looking over the
+garden and a waste of heather beyond, to the fir-crowned hill of
+Ambarrow. My father had been Headmaster for twelve years and was
+nearing the end of his time there; and I was myself nine years old, and
+shortly to go to a private school, where my elder brother Martin already
+was. My two sisters, Nelly and Maggie, were respectively eight and six,
+and my brother, Fred, was four--six in all.
+
+And by a freak of memory I recollect, too, that at breakfast on the
+following morning my father--half-shyly, half-proudly, I
+thought--announced the fact of Hugh's birth to the boys whom he had
+asked in, as his custom was, to breakfast, and how they offered
+embarrassed congratulations, not being sure, I suppose, exactly what the
+right phrase was.
+
+Then came the christening, which took place at Sandhurst Church, a mile
+or two away, to which we walked by the pine-clad hill of Edgebarrow and
+the heathery moorland known as Cock-a-Dobbie. Mr. Parsons was the
+clergyman--a little handsome old man, like an abbe, with a clear-cut
+face and thick white hair. I am afraid that the ceremony had no
+religious significance for me at that time, but I was deeply
+interested, thought it rather cruel, and was shocked at Hugh's
+indecorous outcry. He was called Robert, an old family name, and Hugh,
+in honour of St. Hugh of Lincoln, where my father was a Prebendary, and
+because he was born on the day before St. Hugh's Feast. And then I
+really remember nothing more of him for a time, except for a scene in
+the nursery on some wet afternoon when the baby--Robin as he was at
+first called--insisted on being included in some game of tents made by
+pinning shawls over the tops of chairs, he being then, as always,
+perfectly clear what his wishes were, and equally clear that they were
+worth attending to and carrying out.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Hills & Saunders_
+
+THE MASTER'S LODGE, WELLINGTON COLLEGE, 1868
+
+The room to the left of the porch is the study. In the room above it
+Hugh was born.]
+
+Then I vividly recall how in 1875, when we were all returning _en
+famille_ from a long summer holiday spent at Torquay in a pleasant house
+lent us in Meadfoot Bay, we all travelled together in a third-class
+carriage; how it fell to my lot to have the amusing of Hugh, and how
+difficult he was to amuse, because he wished to look out of the window
+the whole time, and to make remarks on everything. But at Lincoln I
+hardly remember anything of him at all, because I was at school with my
+elder brother, and only came back for the holidays; and we two had
+moreover a little sanctum of our own, a small sitting-room named Bec by
+my father, who had a taste for pleasant traditions, after Anthony Bec,
+the warlike Bishop of Durham, who had once been Chancellor of Lincoln.
+Here we arranged our collections and attended to our own concerns,
+hardly having anything to do with the nursery life, except to go to tea
+there and to play games in the evening. The one thing I do remember is
+that Hugh would under no circumstances and for no considerations ever
+consent to go into a room in the dark by himself, being extremely
+imaginative and nervous; and that on one occasion when he was asked what
+he expected to befall him, he said with a shudder and a stammer: "To
+fall over a mangled corpse, squish! into a pool of gore!"
+
+When he was between four and five years old, at Lincoln, one of his
+godfathers, Mr. Penny, an old friend and colleague of my father's at
+Wellington College, came to stay at the Chancery, and brought Hugh a
+Bible. My mother was sitting with Mr. Penny in the drawing-room after
+luncheon, when Hugh, in a little black velvet suit, his flaxen hair
+brushed till it gleamed with radiance, his face the picture of
+innocence, bearing the Bible, a very image of early piety, entered the
+room, and going up to his godfather, said with his little stammer:
+"Tha-a-ank you, Godpapa, for this beautiful Bible! will you read me some
+of it?"
+
+Mr. Penny beamed with delight, and took the Bible. My mother rose to
+leave the room, feeling almost unworthy of being present at so sacred an
+interview, but as she reached the door, she heard Mr. Penny say: "And
+what shall I read about?" "The De-e-evil!" said Hugh without the least
+hesitation. My mother closed the door and came back.
+
+There was one member of our family circle for whom Hugh did undoubtedly
+cherish a very deep and tender affection from the time when his
+affections first awoke--this was for the beloved Beth, the old family
+nurse. Beth became nurse-maid to my grandmother, Mrs. Sidgwick, as a
+young girl; and the first of her nurslings, whom she tended through an
+attack of smallpox, catching the complaint herself, was my uncle,
+William Sidgwick, still alive as a vigorous octogenarian. Henry
+Sidgwick, Arthur Sidgwick, and my mother were all under Beth's care.
+Then she came on with my mother to Wellington College and nursed us all
+with the simplest and sweetest goodness and devotion. For Hugh, as the
+last of her "children," she had the tenderest love, and lavished her
+care, and indeed her money, on him. When we were all dispersed for a
+time after my father's death, Beth went to her Yorkshire relations, and
+pined away in separation from her dear ones. Hugh returned alone and
+earlier than the rest, and Beth could bear it no longer, but came up
+from Yorkshire just to get a glimpse of Hugh at a station in London as
+he passed through, had a few words with him and a kiss, and gave him
+some little presents which she thought he might like, returning to
+Yorkshire tired out but comforted. I have always thought that little
+journey one of the most touching and beautiful acts of love and service
+I have ever heard of. She was nearly eighty at the time.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by R. Slingsby, Lincoln_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON AND BETH
+
+AT THE CHANCERY, LINCOLN
+
+IN 1876. AGED 5]
+
+In early days she watched over Hugh, did anything and everything for
+him; when he got older she used to delight to wait on him, to pack and
+unpack for him, to call him in the mornings, and secretly to purchase
+clothes and toilet articles to replace anything worn out or lost. In
+later days the thought that he was coming home used to make her radiant
+for days before. She used to come tapping at my door before dinner, and
+sit down for a little talk. "I know what you are thinking about, Beth!"
+"What is it, dear?" "Why, about Hugh, of course! You don't care for
+anyone else when he is coming." "No, don't say that, dear--but I _am_
+pleased to think that Master Hugh is coming home for a bit--I hope he
+won't be very tired!" And she used to smooth down her apron with her
+toil-worn hands and beam to herself at the prospect. He always went and
+sat with her for a little in the evenings, in her room full of all the
+old nursery treasures, and imitated her smilingly. "Nay, now, child!
+I've spoken, and that is enough!" he used to say, while she laughed for
+delight. She used to say farewell to him with tears, and wave her
+handkerchief at the window till the carriage was out of sight. Even in
+her last long illness, as she faded out of life, at over ninety years of
+age, she was made perfectly happy by the thought that he was in the
+house, and only sorry that she could not look after his things.
+
+Beth had had but little education; she could read a little in a
+well-known book, but writing was always a slow and difficult business;
+but she used slowly to compile a little letter from time to time to
+Hugh, and I find the following put away among the papers of his Eton
+days and schoolboy correspondence:
+
+                                                  Addington Park,
+
+                                       [? _Nov._ 1887] _Tuesday._
+
+      Dearest,--One line to tell you I am sending your Box
+      to-morrow Wednesday. I hope you will get it before tea-time. I
+      know you will like something for tea, you can keep your cake for
+      your Birthday. I shall think about you on Friday. Everybody has
+      gone away, so I had no one to write for me. I thought you would
+      not mind me writing to you.--Dearest love from your dear
+
+                                                       Beth.
+
+The dear Beth lived wholly in love and service; she loved just as she
+worked, endlessly and ungrudgingly; wherever Beth is, she will find
+service to render and children to love; and I cannot think that she has
+not found the way to her darling, and he to her.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+TRURO
+
+
+We all went off again to Truro in 1877, when my father was made Bishop.
+The tradition was that as the train, leaving Lincoln, drew up after five
+minutes at the first small station on the line, perhaps Navenby, a
+little voice in the corner said: "Is this Truro?" A journey by train was
+for many years a great difficulty for Hugh, as it always made him ill,
+owing to the motion of the carriage.
+
+At Truro he becomes a much more definite figure in my recollections. He
+was a delicately made, light-haired, blue-eyed child, looking rather
+angelic in a velvet suit, and with small, neat feet, of which he was
+supposed to be unduly aware. He had at that time all sorts of odd
+tricks, winkings and twitchings; and one very aggravating habit, in
+walking, of putting his feet together suddenly, stopping and looking
+down at them, while he muttered to himself the mystic formula, "Knuck,
+Nunks." But one thing about him was very distinct indeed, that he was
+entirely impervious to the public opinion of the nursery, and could
+neither be ridiculed nor cajoled out of continuing to do anything he
+chose to do. He did not care the least what was said, nor had he any
+morbid fears, as I certainly had as a child, of being disliked or mocked
+at. He went his own way, knew what he wanted to do, and did it.
+
+My recollections of him are mainly of his extreme love of argument and
+the adroitness with which he conducted it. He did not intend to be put
+upon as the youngest, and it was supposed that if he was ever told to do
+anything, he always replied: "Why shouldn't Fred?" He invented an
+ingenious device which he once, and once only, practised with success,
+of goading my brother Fred by petty shafts of domestic insult into
+pursuing him, bent on vengeance. Hugh had prepared some small pieces of
+folded paper with a view to this contingency, and as Fred gave chase,
+Hugh flung two of his papers on the ground, being sure that Fred would
+stop to examine them. The ruse was quite successful, and while Fred was
+opening the papers, Hugh sought sanctuary in the nursery. Sometimes my
+sisters were deputed to do a lesson with him. My elder sister Nelly had
+a motherly instinct, and enjoyed a small responsibility. She would
+explain a rule of arithmetic to Hugh. He would assume an expression of
+despair: "I don't understand a word of it--you go so quick." Then it
+would be explained again: "Now do you understand?" "Of course I
+understand _that_." "Very well, do a sum." The sum would begin: "Oh,
+don't push me--don't come so near--I don't like having my face blown
+on." Presently my sister with angelic patience would show him a
+mistake. "Oh, don't interfere--you make it all mixed up in my head."
+Then he would be let alone for a little. Then he would put the slate
+down with an expression of despair and resignation; if my sister took no
+notice he would say: "I thought Mamma told you to help me in my sums?
+How can I understand without having it explained to me?" It was
+impossible to get the last word; indeed he used to give my sister
+Maggie, when she taught him, what he called "Temper-tickets," at the end
+of the lesson; and on one occasion, when he was to repeat a Sunday
+collect to her, he was at last reported to my mother, as being wholly
+intractable. This was deeply resented; and after my sister had gone to
+bed, a small piece of paper was pushed in beneath her door, on which was
+written: "The most unhappiest Sunday I ever spent in my life. Whose
+fault?"
+
+Again, when Maggie had found him extremely cross and tiresome one
+morning in the lessons she was taking, she discovered, when Hugh at
+last escaped, a piece of paper on the schoolroom table, on which he had
+written
+
+    "Passionate Magey
+    Toodle Ha! Ha!
+    The old gose."
+
+There was another story of how he was asked to write out a list of the
+things he wanted, with a view to a birthday that was coming. The list
+ended:
+
+    "A little compenshion goat, and
+    A tiny-winy train, and
+    A nice little pen."
+
+The diminutives were evidently intended to give the requirements a
+modest air. As for "compenshion," he had asked what some nursery animal
+was made of, a fracture having displayed a sort of tough fibrous
+plaster. He was told that it was made of "a composition."
+
+We used to play many rhyming games at that time; and Hugh at the age of
+eight wrote a poem about a swarm of gnats dancing in the sun, which
+ended:
+
+    "And when they see their comrades laid
+    In thousands round the garden glade,
+    They know they were not really made
+        To live for evermore."
+
+In one of these games, each player wrote a question which was to be
+answered by some other player in a poem; Hugh, who had been talked to
+about the necessity of overcoming some besetting sin in Lent, wrote with
+perfect good faith as his question, "What is your sin for Lent?"
+
+As a child, and always throughout his life, he was absolutely free from
+any touch of priggishness or precocious piety. He complained once to my
+sister that when he was taken out walks by his elders, he heard about
+nothing but "poetry and civilisation." In a friendly little memoir of
+him, which I have been sent, I find the following passage: "In his early
+childhood, when reason was just beginning to ponder over the meaning of
+things, he was so won to enthusiastic admiration of the heroes and
+heroines of the Catholic Church that he decided he would probe for
+himself the Catholic claims, and the child would say to the father,
+'Father, if there be such a sacrament as Penance, can I go?' And the
+good Archbishop, being evasive in his answers, the young boy found
+himself emerging more and more in a woeful Nemesis of faith." It would
+be literally _impossible_, I think, to construct a story less
+characteristic both of Hugh's own attitude of mind as well as of the
+atmosphere of our family and household life than this!
+
+He was always very sensitive to pain and discomfort. On one occasion,
+when his hair was going to be cut, he said to my mother: "Mayn't I have
+chloroform for it?"
+
+And my mother has described to me a journey which she once took with him
+abroad when he was a small boy. He was very ill on the crossing, and
+they had only just time to catch the train. She had some luncheon with
+her, but he said that the very mention of food made him sick. She
+suggested that she should sit at the far end of the carriage and eat her
+own lunch, while he shut his eyes; but he said that the mere sound of
+crumpled paper made him ill, and then that the very idea that there was
+food in the carriage upset him; so that my mother had to get out on the
+first stop and bolt her food on the platform.
+
+One feat of Hugh's I well remember. Sir James McGarel Hogg, afterwards
+Lord Magheramorne, was at the time member for Truro. He was a stately
+and kindly old gentleman, pale-faced and white-bearded, with formal and
+dignified manners. He was lunching with us one day, and gave his arm to
+my mother to conduct her to the dining-room. Hugh, for some reason best
+known to himself, selected that day to secrete himself in the
+dining-room beforehand, and burst out upon Sir James with a wild howl,
+intended to create consternation. Neither then nor ever was he
+embarrassed by inconvenient shyness.
+
+The Bishop's house at Truro, Lis Escop, had been the rectory of the rich
+living of Kenwyn; it was bought for the see and added to. It was a
+charming house about a mile out of Truro above a sequestered valley,
+with a far-off view of the little town lying among hills, with the smoke
+going up, and the gleaming waters of the estuary enfolded in the uplands
+beyond. The house had some acres of pasture-land about it and some fine
+trees; with a big garden and shrubberies, an orchard and a wood. We were
+all very happy there, save for the shadow of my eldest brother's death
+as a Winchester boy in 1878. I was an Eton boy myself and thus was only
+there in the holidays; we lived a very quiet life, with few visitors;
+and my recollection of the time there is one of endless games and
+schemes and amusements. We had writing games and drawing games, and
+acted little plays.
+
+We children had a mysterious secret society, with titles and offices and
+ceremonies: an old alcoved arbour in the garden, with a seat running
+round it, and rough panelling behind, was the chapter-house of the
+order. There were robes and initiations and a book of proceedings. Hugh
+held the undistinguished office of Servitor, and his duties were mainly
+those of a kind of acolyte. I think he somewhat enjoyed the meetings,
+though the difficulty was always to discover any purpose for which the
+society existed. There were subscriptions and salaries; and to his
+latest day it delighted him to talk of the society, and to point out
+that his salary had never equalled his subscription.
+
+There were three or four young clergy, Arthur Mason, now Canon of
+Canterbury, G. H. Whitaker, since Canon of Hereford, John Reeve, late
+Rector of Lambeth, G. H. S. Walpole, now Bishop of Edinburgh, who had
+come down with my father, and they were much in the house. My father
+Himself was full of energy and hopefulness, and loved Cornwall with an
+almost romantic love. But in all of this Hugh was too young to take much
+part. Apart from school hours he was a quick, bright, clever child,
+wanting to take his part in everything. My brother Fred and I were away
+at school, or later at the University; and the home circle, except for
+the holidays, consisted of my father and mother, my two sisters, and
+Hugh. My father had been really prostrated with grief at the death of my
+eldest brother, who was a boy of quite extraordinary promise and
+maturity of mind. My father was of a deeply affectionate and at the same
+time anxious disposition; he loved family life, but he had an almost
+tremulous sense of his parental responsibility. I have never known
+anyone in my life whose personality was so strongly marked as my
+father's. He had a superhuman activity, and cared about everything to
+which he put his hand with an intensity and an enthusiasm that was
+almost overwhelming. At the same time he was extremely sensitive; and
+this affected him in a curious way. A careless word from one of us, some
+tiny instance of childish selfishness or lack of affection, might
+distress him out of all proportion. He would brood over such things,
+make himself unhappy, and at the same time feel it his duty to correct
+what he felt to be a dangerous tendency. He could not think lightly of
+a trifle or deal with it lightly; and he would appeal, I now think, to
+motives more exalted than the occasion justified. A little heedless
+utterance would be met by him not by a half-humourous word, but by a
+grave and solemn remonstrance. We feared his displeasure very much, but
+we could never be quite sure what would provoke it. If he was in a
+cheerful mood, he might pass over with a laugh or an ironical word what
+in a sad or anxious mood would evoke an indignant and weighty censure. I
+was much with him at this time, and was growing to understand him
+better; but even so, I could hardly say that I was at ease in his
+presence. I did not talk of the things that were in my mind, but of the
+things which I thought would please him; and when he was pleased, his
+delight was evident and richly rewarding.
+
+But in these days he began to have a peculiar and touching affection for
+Hugh, and hoped that he would prove the beloved companion of his age.
+Hugh used to trot about with him, spudding up weeds from the lawn. He
+used, when at home, to take Hugh's Latin lessons, and threw himself into
+the congenial task of teaching with all his force and interest. Yet I
+have often heard Hugh say that these lessons were seldom free from a
+sense of strain. He never knew what he might not be expected to know or
+to respond to with eager interest. My father had a habit, in teaching,
+of over-emphasising minute details and nuances of words, insisting upon
+derivations and tenses, packing into language a mass of suggestions and
+associations which could never have entered into the mind of the writer.
+Language ought to be treated sympathetically, as the not over-precise
+expression of human emotion and wonder; but my father made it of a
+half-scientific, half-fanciful analysis. This might prove suggestive and
+enriching to more mature minds. But Hugh once said to me that he used to
+feel day after day like a small china mug being filled out of a
+waterfall. Moreover Hugh's mind was lively and imaginative, but fitful
+and impatient; and the process both daunted and wearied him.
+
+I have lately been looking through a number of letters from my father to
+Hugh in his schooldays. Reading between the lines, and knowing the
+passionate affection in the background, these are beautiful and pathetic
+documents. But they are over-full of advice, suggestion, criticism,
+anxious inquiries about work and religion, thought and character. This
+was all a part of the strain and tension at which my father lived. He
+was so absorbed in his work, found life such a tremendous business, was
+so deeply in earnest, that he could not relax, could not often enjoy a
+perfectly idle, leisurely, amused mood. Hugh himself was the exact
+opposite. He could work, in later days, with fierce concentration and
+immense energy; but he also could enjoy, almost more than anyone I have
+ever seen, rambling, inconsequent, easy talk, consisting of stories,
+arguments, and ideas just as they came into his head; this had no
+counterpart in my father, who was always purposeful.
+
+But it was a happy time at Truro for Hugh. Speaking generally, I should
+call him in those days a quick, inventive, active-minded child, entirely
+unsentimental; he was fond of trying his hand at various things, but he
+was impatient and volatile, would never take trouble, and as a
+consequence never did anything well. One would never have supposed, in
+those early days, that he was going to be so hard a worker, and still
+less such a worker as he afterwards became, who perfected his gifts by
+such continuous, prolonged, and constantly renewed labour. I recollect
+his giving a little conjuring entertainment as a boy, but he had
+practised none of his tricks, and the result was a fiasco, which had to
+be covered up by lavish and undeserved applause; a little later, too, at
+Addington, he gave an exhibition of marionettes, which illustrated
+historical scenes. The puppets were dressed by Beth, our old nurse, and
+my sisters, and Hugh was the showman behind the scenes. The little
+curtains were drawn up for a tableau which was supposed to represent an
+episode in the life of Thomas a Becket. Hugh's voice enunciated, "Scene,
+an a-arid waste!" Then came a silence, and then Hugh was heard to say to
+his assistant in a loud, agitated whisper, "Where is the Archbishop?"
+But the puppet had been mislaid, and he had to go on to the next
+tableau. The most remarkable thing about him was a real independence of
+character, with an entire disregard of other people's opinion. What he
+liked, what he felt, what he decided, was the important thing to him,
+and so long as he could get his way, I do not think that he troubled his
+head about what other people might think or wish; he did not want to
+earn good opinions, nor did he care for disapproval or approval; people
+in fact were to him at that time more or less favourable channels for
+him to follow his own designs, more or less stubborn obstacles to his
+attaining his wishes. He was not at all a sensitive or shrinking child.
+He was quite capable of holding his own, full of spirit and fearless,
+though quiet enough, and not in the least interfering, except when his
+rights were menaced.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+BOYHOOD
+
+
+He went to school at Clevedon, in Somersetshire, in 1882, at Walton
+House, then presided over by Mr. Cornish. It was a well-managed place,
+and the teaching was good. I suppose that all boys of an independent
+mind dislike the first breaking-in to the ways of the world, and the
+exchanging of the freedom of home for the barrack-life of school, the
+absence of privacy, and the sense of being continually under the
+magnifying-glass which school gives. It was dreadful to Hugh to have to
+account for himself at all times, to justify his ways and tastes, his
+fancies and even his appearance, to boys and masters alike. Bullying is
+indeed practically extinct in well-managed schools; but small boys are
+inquisitive, observant, extremely conventional, almost like savages in
+their inventiveness of prohibitions and taboos, and perfectly merciless
+in criticism. The instinct for power is shown by small boys in the
+desire to make themselves felt, which is most easily accomplished by
+minute ridicule. Hugh made friends there, but he never really enjoyed
+the life of the place. The boys who get on well at school from the first
+are robust, normal boys, without any inconvenient originality, who enjoy
+games and the good-natured rough and tumble of school life. But Hugh was
+not a boy of that kind; he was small, not good at games, and had plenty
+of private fancies and ideas of his own. He was ill at ease, and he
+never liked the town of straggling modern houses on the low sea-front,
+with the hills and ports of Wales rising shadowy across the mud-stained
+tide.
+
+He was quick and clever, and had been well taught; so that in 1885 he
+won a scholarship at Eton, and entered college there, to my great
+delight, in the September of that year. I had just returned to Eton as a
+master, and was living with Edward Lyttelton in a quaint, white-gabled
+house called Baldwin's Shore, which commanded a view of Windsor Castle,
+and overlooked the little, brick-parapeted, shallow pond known as
+Barnes' Pool, which, with the sluggish stream that feeds it, separates
+the college from the town, and is crossed by the main London road. It
+was a quaint little house, which had long ago been a boarding-house, and
+contained many low-coiled, odd-shaped rooms. Hugh was Edward Lyttelton's
+private pupil, so that he was often in and out of the place. But I did
+not see very much of him. He was a small, ingenuous-looking creature in
+those days, light-haired and blue-eyed; and when a little later he
+became a steerer of one of the boats, he looked very attractive in his
+Fourth of June dress, as a middy, with a dirk and white duck trousers,
+dangling an enormous bouquet from his neck. At Eton he did very little
+in the way of work, and his intellect must have been much in abeyance;
+because so poor was his performance, that it became a matter of
+surprise among his companions that he had ever won a scholarship at all.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Elliott & Fry_
+
+THE THREE BROTHERS, 1882
+
+E. F. Benson       A. C. Benson     R. H. Benson
+at Marlborough.    at Cambridge.    at Mr. Cornish's School at Clevedon.
+Aged 15.           Aged 21.         Aged 11.]
+
+I have said that I did not know very much about Hugh at Eton; this was
+the result of the fact that several of the boys of his set were my
+private pupils. It was absolutely necessary that a master in that
+position should avoid any possibility of collusion with a younger
+brother, whose friends were that master's pupils. If it had been
+supposed that I questioned Hugh about my pupils and their private lives,
+or if he had been thought likely to tell me tales, we should both of us
+have been branded. But as he had no wish to confide, and indeed little
+enough to consult anyone about, and as I had no wish for sidelights, we
+did not talk about his school life at all. The set of boys in which he
+lived was a curious one; they were fairly clever, but they must have
+been, I gathered afterwards, quite extraordinarily critical and
+quarrelsome. There was one boy in particular, a caustic, spiteful, and
+extremely mischief-making creature, who turned the set into a series of
+cliques and parties. Hugh used to say afterwards that he had never known
+anyone in his life with such an eye for other people's weaknesses, or
+with such a talent for putting them in the most disagreeable light. Hugh
+once nearly got into serious trouble; a small boy in the set was
+remorselessly and disgracefully bullied; it came out, and Hugh was
+involved--I remember that Dr. Warre spoke to me about it with much
+concern--but a searching investigation revealed that Hugh had really had
+nothing to do with it, and the victim of the bullying spoke insistently
+in Hugh's favour.
+
+Hugh describes how the facts became known in the holidays, and how my
+father in his extreme indignation at what he supposed to be proved, so
+paralysed Hugh that he had no opportunity of clearing himself. But
+anyone who had ever known Hugh would have felt that it was the last
+thing he would have done. He was tenacious enough of his own rights, and
+argumentative enough; but he never had the faintest touch of the
+savagery that amuses itself at the sight of another's sufferings. "I
+hate cruelty more than anything in the whole world," he wrote later;
+"the existence of it is the only thing which reconciles my conscience to
+the necessity of Hell."
+
+Hugh speaks in his book, _The Confession of a Convert_, about the
+extremely negative character of his religious impressions at school. I
+think it is wholly accurate. Living as we did in an ecclesiastical
+household, and with a father who took singular delight in ceremonial and
+liturgical devotion, I think that religion did impress itself rather too
+much as a matter of solemn and dignified occupation than as a matter of
+feeling and conduct. It was not that my father ever forgot the latter;
+indeed, behind his love for symbolical worship lay a passionate and
+almost Puritan evangelicalism. But he did not speak easily and openly of
+spiritual experience. I was myself profoundly attracted as a boy by the
+aesthetic side of religion, and loved its solemnities with all my heart;
+but it was not till I made friends with Bishop Wilkinson at the age of
+seventeen that I had any idea of spiritual religion and the practice of
+friendship with God. Certainly Hugh missed it, in spite of very loving
+and earnest talks and deeply touching letters from my father on the
+subject. I suppose that there must come for most people a spiritual
+awakening; and until that happens, all talk of emotional religion and
+the love of God is a thing submissively accepted, and simply not
+understood or realised as an actual thing.
+
+Hugh was not at Eton very long--not more than three or four years. He
+never became in any way a typical Etonian. If I am asked to say what
+that is, I should say that it is the imbibing instinctively of what is
+eminently a fine, manly, and graceful convention. Its good side is a
+certain chivalrous code of courage, honour, efficiency, courtesy, and
+duty. Its fault is a sense of perfect rightness and self-sufficiency, an
+overvaluing of sport and games, an undervaluing of intellectual
+interests, enthusiasm, ideas. It is not that the sense of effortless
+superiority is to be emphasized or insisted upon--modesty entirely
+forbids that--but it is the sort of feeling described ironically in the
+book of Job, when the patriarch says to the elders, "No doubt but ye are
+the people, and wisdom shall die with you." It is a tacit belief that
+all has been done for one that the world can do, and that one's standing
+is so assured that it need never be even claimed or paraded.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Hills & Saunders_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1889. AGE 17
+
+As Steerer of the _St. George_, at Eton.]
+
+Still less was Hugh a typical Colleger. College at Eton, where the
+seventy boys who get scholarships are boarded, is a school within a
+school. The Collegers wear gowns and surplices in public, they have
+their own customs and traditions and games. It is a small, close, clever
+society, and produces a tough kind of self-confidence, together with a
+devotion to a particular tradition which is almost like a religious
+initiation. Perhaps if the typical Etonian is conscious of a certain
+absolute rightness in the eyes of the world, the typical Colleger has a
+sense almost of absolute righteousness, which does not need even to be
+endorsed by the world. The danger of both is that the process is
+completed at perhaps too early a date, and that the product is too
+consciously a finished one, needing to be enlarged and modified by
+contact with the world.
+
+But Hugh did not stay at Eton long enough for this process to complete
+itself. He decided that he wished to compete for the Indian Civil
+Service; and as it was clear that he could not do this successfully at
+Eton, my father most reluctantly allowed him to leave.
+
+I find among the little scraps which survive from his schoolboy days,
+the following note. It was written on his last night at Eton. He says:
+"_I write this on Thursday evening after ten. Peel keeping passage._"
+"Peel" is Sidney Peel, the Speaker's son. The passages are patrolled by
+the Sixth Form from ten to half-past, to see that no boy leaves his room
+without permission. Then follows:
+
+    _My feelings on leaving are--
+        Excitement.
+        Foreboding of Wren's and fellows there.
+        Sorrow at leaving Eton.
+        Pride as being an old Etonian.
+        Certain pleasure in leaving for many trivial matters.
+        Feeling of importance.
+        Frightful longing for India.
+        Homesickness._
+              _DEAR ME!_
+
+It was characteristic of Hugh that he should wish both to analyse his
+feelings on such an occasion, and to give expression to them.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+AT WREN'S
+
+
+Hugh accordingly went to Mr. Wren's coaching establishment in London,
+living partly at Lambeth, when my family were in town, and partly as a
+boarder with a clergyman. It was a time of hard work; and I really
+retain very few recollections of him at all at this date. I was myself
+very busy at Eton, and spent the holidays to a great extent in
+travelling and paying visits; and I think that Christmas, when we used
+to write, rehearse, and act a family play, was probably the only time at
+which I saw him.
+
+Hugh went abroad for a short time to learn French, with a party of
+Indian Civil Service candidates, and no doubt forgot to write home, for
+I find the following characteristic letter of my father's to him:
+
+                                 Lambeth Palace, S.E., _30th June_ 1889.
+
+      My dearest Hughie,--We have been rather mourning about
+      not hearing one word from you. We _supposed_ all would be right as
+      you were a large party. But _one_ word would be so easy to those
+      who love you so, who have done all they could to enable you to
+      follow your own line, against their own wishes and affection!
+
+      We hope at any rate you are writing to-day. And we have sent off
+      "Pioneers and Founders," which we hope will both give you happy
+      and interesting Sunday reading, and remind you of us.
+
+      Mr. Spiers writes that you are backward in French but getting on
+      rather fast.
+
+      I want you now at the beginning of this cramming year to make two
+      or three Resolutions, besides those which you know and have
+      thought of often and practised:
+
+      1. To determine never to do any secular examination work on
+      Sundays--to keep all reading that day as fitting "The _Lord's_
+      Day" and the "Day of Rest."
+
+      I had a poor friend who would have done very well at Oxford, but
+      he would make no difference between Sunday and other days. He
+      worked on just the same and in the Examination _itself_, just as
+      the goal was reached, he broke down and took no degree. The
+      doctors said it was all owing to the continuous nervous strain. If
+      he had taken the Sundays it would just have saved him.
+
+      Lord Selborne was once telling me of his tremendous work at one
+      time, and he said, "I never could have done it, but that I took my
+      Sundays. I never would work on them."
+
+      2. We have arranged for you to go over to the Holy Communion one
+      day at Dinan. Perhaps some nice fellow will go with you--Mr.
+      Spiers will anyhow. Tell us _which_ Sunday, so that we may all be
+      with you [Greek: en pneumati].
+
+      Last night we dined at the Speaker's to meet, the Prince and
+      Princess of Wales. It was very interesting. The Terrace of the
+      House of Commons was lighted with electric light. A steamer went
+      by and cheered!
+
+      The Shah will fill London with grand spectacles, and I suppose his
+      coming will have much effect on politics--perhaps on _India_ too.
+
+      All are well.--Ever your most loving father,
+
+                                                         Edw. Cantuar.
+
+      I am going to preach at the Abbey to-night.
+
+
+Hugh failed, however, to secure a place in the Indian Civil Service, and
+it was decided that he should go up to Trinity College, Cambridge, and
+read for classical honours.
+
+Up to this date I do not think that anything very conscious or definite
+had been going on in Hugh's mind or heart. He always said himself that
+it astonished him on looking back to think how purely negative and
+undeveloped his early life had been, and how it had been lived on
+entirely superficial lines, without plans or ambitions, simply taking
+things as they came.
+
+I think it was quite true that it was so; his emotions were dormant,
+his powers were dormant. I do not think he had either great affections
+or great friendships. He liked companionship and amusement, he avoided
+what bored him; he had no inclinations to evil, but neither had he any
+marked inclinations to what was good. Neither had any of his many and
+varied gifts and accomplishments showed themselves. I used to think
+latterly that he was one of the most gifted people I had ever seen in
+all artistic ways. Whatever he took up he seemed able to do, without any
+apprenticeship or drudgery. Music, painting, drawing, carving,
+designing--he took them all up in turn; and I used to feel that if he
+had devoted himself to any one of them he could have reached a high
+excellence. Even his literary gifts, so various and admirable, showed
+but few signs of their presence in the early days; he was not in the
+least precocious. I think that on the whole it was beneficial to him
+that his energies all lay fallow. My father, stern as his conception of
+duty was, had a horror of applying any intellectual pressure to us. I
+myself must confess that I was distinctly idle and dilettante both as a
+boy at Eton and as a Cambridge undergraduate. But much as my father
+appreciated and applauded any little successes, I was often surprised
+that I was never taken to task for my poor performances in work and
+scholarship. The truth was that my eldest brother's death at Winchester
+was supposed partly to have been due to his extraordinary intellectual
+and mental development, and I am sure that my father was afraid of
+over-stimulating our mental energies. I feel certain that what was going
+on in Hugh's case all the time was a keen exercise of observation. I
+have no doubt that his brain was receiving and gaining impressions of
+every kind, and that his mind was not really inactive--it was only
+unconsciously amassing material. He had a very quick and delighted
+perception of human temperament, of the looks, gestures, words,
+mannerisms, habits, and oddities of human beings. If Hugh had been born
+in a household professionally artistic, and had been trained in art of
+any kind, I think he would very likely have become an accomplished
+artist or musician, and probably have shown great precocity. But he was
+never an artist in the sense that art was a torment to him, or that he
+made any sacrifice of other aims to it. It was always just a part of
+existence to him, and of the nature of an amusement, though in so far as
+it represented the need of self-expression in forms of beauty, it
+underlay and permeated the whole of his life.
+
+The first sign of his artistic enthusiasm awakening was during his time
+in London, when he conceived an intense admiration for the music and
+ceremony of St. Paul's. Sir George Martin, on whom my father had
+conferred a musical degree, was very kind to him, and allowed Hugh to
+frequent the organ-loft. "To me," Hugh once wrote, "music is the great
+reservoir of emotion from which flow out streams of salvation." But this
+was not only a musical devotion. I believe that he now conceived, or
+rather perhaps developed, a sense of the symbolical poetry of religious
+rites and ceremonies which remained with him to the end. It is true to
+say that the force and quality of ritual, as a province of art, has been
+greatly neglected and overlooked. It is not for a moment to be regarded
+as a purely artistic thing; but it most undoubtedly has an attraction
+and a fascination as clear and as sharply defined as the attraction of
+music, poetry, painting or drama. All art is an attempt to express a
+sense of the overwhelming power of beauty. It is hard to say what beauty
+is, but it seems to be one of the inherent qualities of the Unknown, an
+essential part of the Divine mind. In England we are so stupid and so
+concrete that we are apt to think of a musician as one who arranges
+chords, and of a painter as one who copies natural effects. It is not
+really that at all. The artist is in reality struggling with an idea,
+which idea is a consciousness of an amazing and adorable quality in
+things, which affects him passionately and to which he must give
+expression. The form which his expression takes is conditioned by the
+sharpness of his perception in some direction or other. To the musician,
+notes and intervals and vibrations are just the fairy flights and dances
+of forms audible to the ear; to the painter, it is a question of shapes
+and colours perceptible to the eye. The dramatist sees the same beauty
+in the interplay of human emotion; while it may be maintained that
+holiness itself is a passionate perception of moral beauty, and that the
+saint is attracted by purity and compassion, and repelled by sin,
+disorder, and selfishness, in the same way as the artist is attracted
+and repelled by visible charm and ugliness.
+
+Ritual has been as a rule so closely annexed to religion--though all
+spectacular delights and ceremonies have the same quality--that it has
+never been reckoned among artistic predilections. The aim of ritual is,
+I believe, a high poetry of which the essence is symbolism and mystery.
+The movement of forms solemnly vested, and with a background of
+architecture and music, produces an emotion quite distinct from other
+artistic emotions. It is a method, like all other arts, through which a
+human being arrives at a sense of mysterious beauty, and it evokes in
+mystical minds a passion to express themselves in just that way and no
+other, and to celebrate thus their sense of the unknown.
+
+But there has always been a natural terror in the religious mind of
+laying too much stress on this, or of seeming to encourage too much an
+aesthetic emotion. If the first business of religion is to purify life,
+there will always be a suspicion of idolatry about ritual, a fear of
+substituting a vague desire for beauty for a practical devotion to right
+conduct.
+
+Hugh wrote to me some years later what he felt about it all:
+
+      "... Liturgy, to my mind, is nothing more than a very fine and
+      splendid art, conveying things, to people who possess the
+      liturgical faculty, in an extraordinarily dramatic and vivid way.
+      I further believe that this is an art which has been gradually
+      brought nearer and nearer perfection by being tested and developed
+      through nineteen centuries, by every kind of mind and nationality.
+      The way in which it does, indisputably, appeal to such very
+      different kinds of people, and unite them, does, quite apart from
+      other things, give it a place with music and painting.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      "I do frankly acknowledge Liturgy to be no more than an art--and
+      therefore not in the least generally necessary to salvation; and I
+      do not in the least 'condemn' people who do not appreciate it. It
+      is only a way of presenting facts--and, in the case of Holy Week
+      Ceremonies, these facts are such as those of the Passion of
+      Christ, the sins of men, the Resurrection and the Sovereignty of
+      Christ."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I have laid stress upon all this, because I believe that from this time
+the poetry and beauty of ritual had a deep and increasing fascination
+for Hugh. But it is a thing about which it is so easy for the enemy to
+blaspheme, to ridicule ceremonial in religion as a mere species of
+entertainment, that religious minds have always been inclined to
+disclaim the strength of its influence. Hugh certainly inherited this
+particular perception from my father. I should doubt if anyone ever knew
+so much about religious ceremonial as he did, or perceived so clearly
+the force of it. "I am almost ashamed to seem to know so much about
+these things," I have often heard him say; and again, "I don't ever seem
+able to forget the smallest detail of ritual." My father had a very
+strong artistic nature--poetry, sculpture, painting, architecture,
+scenery, were all full of fascination to him--for music alone of the
+arts he had but little taste; and I think that it ought to be realised
+that Hugh's nature was an artistic one through and through. He had the
+most lively and passionate sensibility to the appeal of art. He had,
+too, behind the outer sensitiveness, the inner toughness of the artist.
+It is often mistakenly thought that the artist is sensitive through and
+through. In my experience, this is not the case. The artist has to be
+protected against the overwhelming onset of emotions and perceptions by
+a strong interior fortress of emotional calm and serenity. It is certain
+that this was the case with Hugh. He was not in the least sentimental,
+he was not really very emotional. He was essentially solitary within; he
+attracted friendship and love more than he gave them. I do not think
+that he ever suffered very acutely through his personal emotions. His
+energy of output was so tremendous, his power of concentration so great,
+that he found a security here from the more ravaging emotions of the
+heart. Not often did he give his heart away; he admired greatly, he
+sympathised freely; but I never saw him desolated or stricken by any
+bereavement or loss. I used to think sometimes that he never needed
+anyone. I never saw him exhibit the smallest trace of jealousy, nor did
+he ever desire to possess anyone's entire affection. He recognised any
+sign of affection generously and eagerly; but he never claimed to keep
+it exclusively as his own.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CAMBRIDGE
+
+
+Hugh went then to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1890. He often talked
+to me in later days about his time there as an undergraduate. He found a
+number of his Eton contemporaries up there, and he had a very sociable
+time. A friend and contemporary of his at Trinity describes him as
+small, light, and boyish-looking. "He walked fast, and always appeared
+to be busy." He never cared much about athletics, but he was an
+excellent steerer. He steered the third Trinity boat all the time he was
+at Cambridge, and was a member of the Leander club. He was always
+perfectly cool, and not in the smallest degree nervous. He was,
+moreover, an excellent walker and mountain-climber. He once walked up to
+London from Cambridge; I have climbed mountains with him, and he was
+very agile, quick, surefooted, and entirely intrepid. Let me interpolate
+a little anecdote of an accident at Pontresina, which might have been
+serious. Hugh and I, with a practised Alpine climber, Dr. Leith, left
+Pontresina early one morning to climb a rock-peak. We were in a light
+carriage with a guide and porter. The young horse which drew us, as we
+were rattling down the high embanked road leading to Samaden, took a
+sharp turn to the right, where a road branched off. He was sharply
+checked by the guide, with the result that the carriage collided with a
+stone post, and we were all flung out down the embankment, a living
+cataract of men, ice-axes, haversacks, and wraps. The horse fortunately
+stopped. We picked ourselves ruefully up and resumed our places. Not
+until we reached our destination did we become aware that the whole
+incident had passed in silence. Not one word of advice or recrimination
+or even of surprise had passed anyone's lips!
+
+But Hugh's climbing was put a stop to by a sharp attack of heart-failure
+on the Piz Palu. He was with my brother Fred, and after a long climb
+through heavy snow, he collapsed and was with difficulty carried down.
+He believed himself to be on the point of death, and records in one of
+his books that the prospect aroused no emotion whatever in his mind
+either of fear or excitement, only of deep curiosity.
+
+While he was an undergraduate, he and I had a sudden and overwhelming
+interest in family history and genealogy. We went up to Yorkshire for a
+few days one winter, stayed at Pateley Bridge, Ripon, Bolton Abbey,
+Ripley, and finally York. At Pateley Bridge we found the parish
+registers very ancient and complete, and by the aid of them, together
+with the printed register of Fountains Abbey, we traced a family tree
+back as far as to the fourteenth century, with ever-increasing evidence
+of the poverty and mean condition of our ancestral stock. We visited the
+houses and cradles of the race, and from comfortable granges and
+farmsteads we declined, as the record conducted us back, to hovels and
+huts of quite conspicuous humility and squalor. The thermometer fell
+lower and lower every day, in sympathy with our researches. I remember a
+night when we slept in a neglected assembly-room tacked on to a country
+inn, on hastily improvised and scantily covered beds, when the water
+froze in the ewers; and an attempt to walk over the moors one afternoon
+from Masham into Nidderdale, when the springs by the roadside froze into
+lumpy congealments, like guttering candles, and we were obliged to turn
+back; and how we beguiled a ten-mile walk to Ripon, the last train
+having gone, by telling an enormous improvised story, each taking an
+alternate chapter, and each leaving the knots to be untied by the next
+narrator. Hugh was very lively and ingenious in this, and proved the
+most delightful of companions, though we had to admit as we returned
+together that we had ruined the romance of our family history beyond
+repair.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Elliott & Fry_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1893. AGED 21
+
+As an Undergraduate at Cambridge.]
+
+Hugh did very little work at Cambridge; he had given up classics, and
+was working at theology, with a view to taking Orders. He managed to
+secure a Third in the Tripos; he showed no intellectual promise
+whatever; he was a very lively and amusing companion and a keen debater;
+I think he wrote a little poetry; but he had no very pronounced tastes.
+I remember his pointing out to me the windows of an extremely
+unattractive set of ground-floor rooms in Whewell's Court as those which
+he had occupied till he migrated to the Bishop's Hostel, eventually
+moving to the Great Court. They look down Jesus Lane, and the long,
+sombre wall of Sidney Sussex Garden. A flagged passage runs down to the
+right of them, and the sitting-room is on the street. They were dark,
+stuffy, and extremely noisy. The windows were high up, and splashed with
+mud by the vehicles in the street, while it was necessary to keep them
+shut, because otherwise conversation was wholly inaudible. "What did you
+do there?" I said. "Heaven knows!" he answered. "As far as I can
+remember, I mostly sat up late at night and played cards!" He certainly
+spent a great deal of money. He had a good allowance, but he had so much
+exceeded it at the end of his first year, that a financial crisis
+followed, and my mother paid his debts for him. He had kept no accounts,
+and he had entertained profusely.
+
+The following letter from my father to him refers to one of Hugh's
+attempts to economise. He caught a bad feverish cold at Cambridge as a
+result of sleeping in a damp room, and was carried off to be nursed by
+my uncle, Henry Sidgwick:
+
+                                              Addington Park, Croydon,
+
+                                                _26th Jan._ 1891.
+
+      Dearest Hughie,--I was rather disturbed to hear that you
+      imagined that what I said in October about not _needlessly
+      indulging_ was held by you to forbid your having a fire in your
+      bedroom on the ground floor in the depth of such a winter as we
+      have had!
+
+      You ought to have a fire lighted at such a season at 8 o'clock so
+      as to warm and dry the room, and all in it, nearly every
+      evening--and whenever the room seems damp, have a fire just
+      lighted to go out when it will. It's not wholesome to sleep in
+      heated rooms, but they must be dry. A _bed_ slept in every night
+      keeps so, if the room is not damp; but the room must not be damp,
+      and when it is unoccupied for two or three days it is sure to get
+      so.
+
+      _Be sure_ that there is a good fire in it all day, and all your
+      bed things, _mattress and all_, kept well before it for at _least_
+      a _whole day before you go back from Uncle Henry's_.
+
+      How was it your bed-maker had not your room well warmed and dried,
+      mattress dry, etc., before you went up this time? She ought to
+      have had, and should be spoken to about it--_i.e._ unless you told
+      her not to! in which case it would be very like having no
+      breakfast!
+
+      It has been a horrid interruption in the beginning of term--and
+      you'll have difficulty with the loss of time. Besides which I
+      have no doubt you have been very uncomfortable.
+
+      But I don't understand why you should have "nothing to write
+      about" because you have been in bed. Surely you must have
+      accumulated all sorts of reflective and imaginative stories there.
+
+      It is most kind of Aunt Nora and Uncle Henry--give my love and
+      thanks to both.
+
+      I grieve to say that many many more fish are found dead since the
+      thaw melted the banks of swept snow off the sides of the ice. It
+      is most piteous; the poor things seem to have come to the edge
+      where the water is shallowest--there is a shoal where we generally
+      feed the swans.
+
+      I am happy to say the goldfish seem all alive and merry. The
+      continual dropping of fresh water has no doubt saved them--they
+      were never hermetically sealed in like the other poor things.
+
+      Yesterday I was at Ringwould, near Dover. The farmers had been up
+      all night saving their cattle in the stalls from the sudden
+      floods.
+
+      Here we have not had any, though the earth is washed very much
+      from the hills in streaks.
+
+      We are--at least I am--dreadfully sorry to go to London--though
+      the house is very dull without "the boys."
+
+      All right about the books.--Ever your loving father,
+
+                                                         Edw. Cantuar.
+
+Hugh was much taken up with experiments in hypnotism as an
+undergraduate, and found that he had a real power of inducing hypnotic
+sleep, and even of curing small ailments. He told my mother all about
+his experiments, and she wrote to him at once that he must either leave
+this off while he was at Cambridge, or that my father must be told. Hugh
+at once gave up his experiments, and escaped an unpleasant contretemps,
+as the authorities discovered what was going on, and actually, I
+believe, sent some of the offenders down.
+
+Hugh says that he drifted into the idea of taking Orders as the line of
+least resistance, though when he began the study of theology he said
+that he had found the one subject he really cared for. But he had
+derived a very strong half-religious, half-artistic impression from
+reading John Inglesant just before he came up to Cambridge. He could
+long after repeat many passages by heart, and he says that a
+half-mystical, half-emotional devotion to the Person of Our Lord, which
+he derived from the book, seemed to him to focus and concentrate all his
+vague religious emotions. He attended the services at King's Chapel
+regularly, but he says that he had no real religious life, and only
+looked forward to being a country clergyman with a beautiful garden, an
+exquisite choir, and a sober bachelor existence.
+
+It was on an evening walk at Addington with my mother that he told her
+of his intention to take Orders. They had gone together to evensong at a
+neighbouring church, Shirley, and as they came back in the dusk through
+the silent woods of the park, he said he believed he had received the
+call, and had answered, "Here am I, send me!" My mother had the words
+engraved on the inside of a ring, which Hugh wore for many years.
+
+By far the closest and dearest of all the ties which bound Hugh to
+another was his love for my mother. Though she still lives to bless us,
+I may say this, that never did a mother give to her children a larger
+and a wiser love than she gave to us; she was our playmate and
+companion, but we always gave her a perfectly trustful and unquestioning
+obedience. Yet it was always a reasonable and critical obedience. She
+never exacted silent submission, but gave us her reasons readily. She
+never curtailed our independence, or oppressed us with a sense of
+over-anxiety. She never demanded confidence, but welcomed it with
+perfect, understanding.
+
+The result of this with Hugh was that he came to consult her about
+everything, about his plans, his schemes, his books, his beliefs. He
+read all his writings aloud to her, and deferred much to her frankly
+critical mind and her deeply human insight. At the time when he was
+tending towards Rome, she accompanied him every step of the way, though
+never disguising from him her own differences of opinion and belief. It
+was due to her that he suspended his decision, read books, consulted
+friends, gave the old tradition full weight; he never had the misery of
+feeling that she was overcome by a helpless distress, because she never
+attempted to influence any one of us away from any course we thought it
+right to pursue. She did not conceal her opinion, but wished Hugh to
+make up his own mind, believing that everyone must do that, and that the
+only chance of happiness lies there.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by H. Walter Barnett, 12 Knightsbridge, S.W._
+
+MRS. BENSON
+
+MAY, 1910]
+
+There was no one in the world whom he so regarded and admired and loved;
+but yet it was not merely a tender and deferential sentiment. He laid
+his mind open before her, and it was safe to do that, because my mother
+never had any wish to prevail by sentiment or by claiming loyalty. He
+knew that she would be perfectly candid too, with love waiting behind
+all conflict of opinion. And thus their relation was the most perfect
+that could be imagined, because he knew that he could speak and act with
+entire freedom, while he recognised the breadth and strength of her
+mind, and the insight of her love. No one can really understand Hugh's
+life without a knowledge of what my mother was to him--an equal friend,
+a trusted adviser, a candid critic, and a tender mother as well. And
+even when he went his own way, as he did about health and work, though
+she foresaw only too clearly what the end might be, and indeed what it
+actually was, she always recognised that he had a right to live as he
+chose and to work as he desired. She was not in the least blind to his
+lesser faults of temperament, nor did she ever construct an artificial
+image of him. My family has, I have no doubt, an unusual freedom of
+mutual criticism. I do not think we have ever felt it to be disloyal to
+see each other in a clear light. But I am inclined to believe that the
+affection which subsists without the necessity of cherishing illusions,
+has a solidity about it which more purely sentimental loyalties do not
+always possess. And I have known few relations so perfect as those
+between Hugh and my mother, because they were absolutely tender and
+chivalrous, and at the same time wholly candid, natural, and open-eyed.
+
+It was at this time that my eldest sister died quite suddenly of
+diphtheria. I have told something of her life elsewhere. She had
+considerable artistic gifts, in music, painting, and writing. She had
+written a novel, and left unpublished a beautiful little book of her own
+experiences among the poor, called _Streets and Lanes of the City_. It
+was privately printed, and is full of charming humour and delicate
+observation, together with a real insight into vital needs. I always
+believe that my sister would have done a great work if she had lived.
+She had strong practical powers and a very large heart. She had been
+drawn more and more into social work at Lambeth, and I think would have
+eventually given herself up to such work. She had a wonderful power of
+establishing a special personal relation with those whom she loved, and
+I remember realising after her death that each of her family felt that
+they were in a peculiar and individual relation to her of intimacy and
+confidence. She had sent Hugh from her deathbed a special message of
+love and hope; and this had affected him very much.
+
+We were not allowed to go back at once to our work, Fred, Hugh, and
+myself, because of the possibility of infection; and we went off to
+Seaford together for a few days, where we read, walked, wrote letters,
+and talked. It was a strange time; but Hugh, I recollect, got suddenly
+weary of it, and with the same decision which always characterised him,
+said that he must go to London in order to be near St. Paul's. He went
+off at once and stayed with Arthur Mason. I was struck with this at the
+time; he did not think it necessary to offer any explanations or
+reasons. He simply said he could not stand it, quite frankly and
+ingenuously, and promptly disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+LLANDAFF
+
+
+In 1892 Hugh went to read for Orders, with Dean Vaughan, who held the
+Deanery of Llandaff together with the Mastership of the Temple. The Dean
+had been a successful Headmaster of Harrow, and for a time Vicar of
+Doncaster. He was an Evangelical by training and temperament. My father
+had a high admiration for him as a great headmaster, a profound and
+accomplished scholar, and most of all as a man of deep and fervent
+piety. I remember Vaughan's visits to Lambeth. He had the air, I used to
+think, rather of an old-fashioned and highly-bred country clergyman than
+of a headmaster and a Church dignitary. With his rather long hair,
+brushed back, his large, pale face, with its meek and smiling air, and
+his thin, clear, and deliberate voice, he gave the impression of a
+much-disciplined, self-restrained, and chastened man. He had none of the
+brisk effectiveness or mundane radiance of a successful man of affairs.
+But this was a superficial view, because, if he became moved or
+interested, he revealed a critical incisiveness of speech and judgment,
+as well as a profound and delicate humour.
+
+He had collected about himself an informal band of young men who read
+theology under his direction. He used to give a daily lecture, but there
+was no college or regular discipline. The men lived in lodgings,
+attended the cathedral service, arranged their own amusements and
+occupations. But Vaughan had a stimulating and magnetic effect over his
+pupils, many of whom have risen to high eminence in the Church.
+
+They were constantly invited to meals at the deanery, where Mrs.
+Vaughan, a sister of Dean Stanley, and as brilliant, vivacious, and
+witty a talker as her brother, kept the circle entranced and delighted
+by her suggestive and humorous talk. My brother tells the story of how,
+in one of the Dean's long and serious illnesses, from which he
+eventually recovered, Mrs. Vaughan absented herself one day on a
+mysterious errand, and the Dean subsequently discovered, with intense
+amusement and pleasure, that she had gone to inspect a house in which
+she intended to spend her widowhood. The Dean told the whole story in
+her presence to some of the young men who were dining there, and
+sympathised with her on the suspension of her plans. I remember, too,
+that my brother described to me how, in the course of the same illness,
+Mrs. Vaughan, who was greatly interested in some question of the Higher
+Criticism, had gone to the Dean's room to read to him, and had suggested
+that they should consider and discuss some disputed passage of the Old
+Testament. The Dean gently but firmly declined. Mrs. Vaughan coming
+downstairs, Bible in hand, found a caller in the drawing-room who
+inquired after the Dean. "I have just come from him," said Mrs.
+Vaughan, "and it is naturally a melancholy thought, but he seems to have
+entirely lost his faith. He would not let me read the Bible with him; he
+practically said that he had no further interest in the Bible!"
+
+Hugh was very happy at Llandaff. He says that he began to read John
+Inglesant again, and explored the surrounding country to see if he could
+find a suitable place to set up a small community house, on the lines of
+Nicholas Ferrar's Little Gidding. This idea was thenceforth much in his
+mind. At this time his day-dream was that it should be not an ascetic
+order, but rather devotional and mystical. It was, I expect, mainly an
+aesthetic idea at present. The setting, the ceremonial, the order of the
+whole was prominent, with the contemplation of spiritual beauty as the
+central principle. The various strains which went to suggest such a
+scheme are easy to unravel. Hugh says frankly that marriage and
+domesticity always appeared to him inconceivable, but at the same time
+he was sociable, and had the strong creative desire to forth and express
+a definite conception of life. He had always the artistic impulse to
+translate an idea into visible and tangible shape. He had, I think,
+little real pastoral impulse at this, if indeed at any time, and his
+view was individualistic. The community, in his mind, was to exist not,
+I believe, for discipline or extension of thought, or even for
+solidarity of action; it was rather to be a fortress of quiet for the
+encouragement of similar individual impulses. He used to talk a good
+deal about his plans for the community in these days--and it is
+interesting to compare with this the fact that I had already written a
+book, never published, about a literary community on the same sort of
+lines, while to go a little further back, it may be remembered that at
+one time my father and Westcott used to entertain themselves with
+schemes for what they called a _Coenobium_, which was to be an
+institution in which married priests with their families were to lead a
+common life with common devotions.
+
+But I used to be reminded, in hearing Hugh detail his plans, of the case
+of a friend of ours, whom I will call Lestrange, who had at one time
+entered a Benedictine monastery as a novice. Lestrange used to talk
+about himself in an engaging way in the third person, and I remember him
+saying that the reason why he left the monastery was "because Lestrange
+found that he could only be an inmate of a monastery in which Lestrange
+was also Abbot!" I did not feel that in Hugh's community there would be
+much chance of the independent expression of the individualities of his
+associates!
+
+He was ordained deacon in 1894 at Addington, or rather in Croydon parish
+church, by my father, whose joy in admitting his beloved son to the
+Anglican ministry was very great indeed.
+
+Before the ordination Hugh decided to go into solitary retreat. He took
+two rooms in the lodge-cottage of Burton Park, two or three miles out
+of Lincoln. I suppose he selected Lincoln as a scene endeared to him by
+childish memories.
+
+He divided the day up for prayer, meditation, and solitary walks, and
+often went in to service in the cathedral. He says that he was in a
+state of tense excitement, and the solitude and introspection had an
+alarmingly depressing effect upon him. He says that the result of this
+was an appalling mental agony: "It seemed to me after a day or two that
+there was no truth in religion, that Jesus Christ was not God, that the
+whole of life was an empty sham, and that I was, if not the chiefest of
+sinners, at any rate the most monumental of fools." He went to the
+Advent services feeling, he says, like a soul in hell. But matters
+mended after that, and the ordination itself seemed to him a true
+consecration. He read the Gospel, and he remembered gratefully the
+sermon of Canon Mason, my father's beloved friend and chaplain.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE ETON MISSION
+
+
+There were many reasons why Hugh should begin his clerical work at
+Hackney Wick, though I suspect it was mainly my father's choice. It was
+a large, uniformly poor district, which had been adopted by Eton in
+about 1880 as the scene of its Mission. There were certain disadvantages
+attending the choice of that particular district. The real _raison
+d'etre_ of a School Mission is educative rather than philanthropic, in
+order to bring boys into touch with social problems, and to give them
+some idea that the way of the world is not the way of a prosperous and
+sheltered home. It is open to doubt whether it is possible to touch
+boys' hearts and sympathies much except by linking a School Mission on
+to some institution for the care of boys--an orphan school or a
+training ship. Only the most sensitive are shocked and distressed by the
+sight of hard conditions of life it all, and as a rule boys have an
+extraordinarily unimaginative way of taking things as they see them, and
+not thinking much or anxiously about mending them.
+
+In any case the one aim ought to be to give boys a personal interest in
+such problems, and put them in personal touch with them. But the Eton
+Mission was planted in a district which it was very hard to reach from
+Eton, so that few of the boys were ever able to make a personal
+acquaintance with the hard and bare conditions of life in the crowded
+industrial region which their Mission was doing so much to help and
+uplift, or to realise the urgency of the needs of a district which most
+of them had never visited.
+
+But if the Mission did not touch the imagination of the boys, yet, on
+the other hand, it became a very well-managed parish, with ample
+resources to draw upon; and it certainly attracted the services of a
+number of old Etonians, who had reached a stage of thought at which the
+problem of industrial poverty became an interesting one.
+
+Money was poured out upon the parish; a magnificent church was built, a
+clergy-house was established, curates were subsidised, clubs were
+established, and excellent work was done there. The vicar at this time
+was a friend and contemporary of my own at Eton, St. Clair Donaldson,
+now Archbishop of Brisbane. He had lived with us as my father's chaplain
+for a time, but his mind was set on parish work rather than
+administration. He knew Hugh well, and Hugh was an Etonian himself.
+Moreover, my father was glad that Hugh should be with a trusted friend,
+and so he went there. St. Clair Donaldson was a clergyman of an
+Evangelical type, though the Mission had been previously conducted by a
+very High Churchman, William Carter, the present Archbishop of Capetown.
+But now distinctive High Church practices were given up, and the parish
+was run on moderate, kindly, and sensible lines. Whether such an
+institution is primarily and distinctively religious may be questioned.
+Such work is centred rather upon friendly and helpful relations, and
+religion becomes one of a number of active forces, rather than the force
+upon which all depends. High-minded, duty-loving, transparently good and
+cheerful as the tone of the clergy was, it was, no doubt, tentative
+rather than authoritative.
+
+Hugh's work there lay a good deal in the direction of the boys' clubs;
+he used to go down to the clubs, play and talk with the boys, and go out
+with them on Saturday afternoons to football and cricket. But he never
+found it a congenial occupation, and I cannot help feeling that it was
+rather a case of putting a very delicate and subtle instrument to do a
+rough sort of work. What was needed was a hearty, kindly,
+elder-brotherly relation, and the men who did this best were the
+good-natured and robust men with a generic interest in the young, who
+could set a clean-minded, wholesome, and hearty example. But Hugh was
+not of this type. His mind was full of mystical and poetical ideas of
+religion, and his artistic nature was intent upon expressing them. He
+was successful in a way, because he had by this time a great charm of
+frankness and simplicity; he never had the least temptation to draw
+social distinctions, but he desired to find people personally
+interesting. He used to say afterwards that he did not really believe in
+what involved a sort of social condescension, and, like another incisive
+missioner, he thought that the giving up a few evenings a week by
+wealthy and even fashionable young-men, however good-hearted and
+earnest, to sharing the amusements of the boys of a parish, was only a
+very uncomfortable way of showing the poor how the rich lived! There is
+no sort of doubt about the usefulness and kindliness of such work, and
+it obviously is one of the experiments which may tend to create social
+sympathy: but Hugh came increasingly to believe that the way to lead
+boys to religion was not through social gatherings, but by creating a
+strong central nucleus of Christian instruction and worship; his heart
+was certainly not in his work at this time, though there was much that
+appealed to him particularly to his sense of humour, which was always
+strongly developed.
+
+There was an account he gave of a funeral he had to conduct in the early
+days of his work, where, after a large congregation had assembled in the
+church, the arrival of the coffin itself was delayed, and he was asked
+to keep things going. He gave out hymns, he read collects, he made a
+short address, and still the undertaker at the door shook his head. At
+last he gave out a hymn that was not very well known, and found that the
+organist had left his post, whereupon he sang it alone, as an
+unsustained solo.
+
+He told me, too, that after preaching written sermons, he resolved to
+try an extempore one. He did so with much nervousness and hesitation.
+The same evening St. Clair Donaldson said to him kindly but firmly that
+preachers were of two kinds--the kind that could write a fairly coherent
+discourse and deliver it more or less impressively, and the kind that
+might venture, after careful preparation, to speak extempore; and that
+he felt bound to tell Hugh that he belonged undoubtedly to the first
+kind. This was curious, because Hugh afterwards became, by dint of
+trouble and practice, a quite remarkably distinguished and impressive
+preacher. Indeed, even before he left the Church of England, the late
+Lord Stanmore, who was an old friend of my father's, said to me that he
+had heard all the great Anglican preachers for many years, and that he
+had no hesitation in putting my brother in the very first rank.
+
+However his time was very full; the parish was magnificently organised;
+besides the clubs there were meetings of all sorts, very systematic
+visiting, a ladies' settlement, plays acted by children, in which Hugh
+took a prominent part both in composing the libretto and rehearsing the
+performances, coaching as many as seventy children at a time.
+
+He went to a retreat given by a Cowley Father in the course of his time
+at the Eton Mission, and heard Father Maturin unfold, with profound
+enthusiasm and inspiring eloquence, a scheme of Catholic doctrine,
+worship, and practice, laying especial stress on Confession. These ideas
+began to take shape in Hugh's mind, and he came to the conclusion that
+it was necessary in a place like London, and working among the harassed
+and ill-educated poor, to _materialise_ religion--that is to say, to fit
+some definite form, rite, symbol, and practice to religious emotion. He
+thought that the bright, dignified, and stately adjuncts of worship,
+such as they had at the Eton Mission, were not adequate to awaken the
+sense of the personal and intimate relation between man and God.
+
+In this belief he was very possibly right. Of course the dangers of the
+theory are obvious. There is the ultimate danger of what can fairly be
+called superstition, that is to say giving to religion a magical kind of
+influence over the material side of life. Rites, relics, images tend to
+become, in irrational minds, invested with an inherent and mechanical
+sanctity, instead of being the symbols of grace. But it is necessary to
+risk something; and though the risk of what may be called a sort of
+idolatry is great, the risk of not arousing the sense of personal
+religion at all is greater still.
+
+Hugh's ordination as a priest followed in 1895; and he then made a full
+confession before a clergyman.
+
+In 1896, in October, my father, who had paid a state visit to Ireland,
+on his return went to stay with Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden, and died
+there in church on a Sunday morning.
+
+I can never forget the events of that terrible day. I received a
+telegram at Eton which summoned me to Hawarden, but did not state
+explicitly that my father was dead. I met Hugh at Euston, who told me
+the fact, and I can recollect walking up and down the half-deserted
+station with him, in a state of deep and bewildered grief. The days
+which followed were so crowded with business and arrangements, that even
+the sight of my father's body, lying robed and still, and palely
+smiling, in the great library of the rectory failed to bring home to me
+the sense that his fiery, eager, strenuous life was over. I remember
+that Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone came to the church with us, and that Hugh
+celebrated and gave us the Communion. But the day when we travelled
+south with the coffin, the great pomp at Canterbury, which was attended
+by our present King and the present King of Norway, when we laid him to
+rest in a vault under the north-western tower, and the days of hurried
+and crowded business at Addington are still faint and dream-like to me.
+
+My mother and sister went out to Egypt for the winter; Hugh's health
+broke down; he was threatened with rheumatic fever, and was ordered to
+go out with them. It was here that he formed a very close and intimate
+companionship with my sister Maggie, and came to rely much on her tender
+sympathy and wise advice. He never returned to the Eton Mission.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+KEMSING AND MIRFIELD
+
+
+The change proved very beneficial to Hugh; but it was then, with
+returning health and leisure for reflection, that he began to consider
+the whole question of Anglicanism and Catholicism. He describes some of
+the little experiences which turned his mind in this direction. He
+became aware of the isolation and what he calls the "provincialism" of
+the Anglican Church. He saw many kinds of churches and varieties of
+worship. He went on through the Holy Land, and at Jerusalem celebrated
+the Communion in the Chapel of Abraham; at Damascus he heard with a sort
+of horror of the submission of Father Maturin to Rome. In all this his
+scheme of a religious community revived. The ceremonial was to be
+Caroline. "We were to wear no eucharistic vestments, but full surplices
+and black scarves, and were to do nothing in particular."
+
+When he returned, he went as curate to Kemsing, a village in Kent. It
+was decided that for the sake of his health his work must be light. The
+Rector, Mr. Skarratt, was a wealthy man; he had restored the church
+beautifully, and had organised a very dignified and careful musical
+service. Hugh lived with him at the vicarage, a big, comfortable house,
+with a succession of interesting guests. He had a very happy year,
+devoting much attention to preaching, and doing a great deal of work
+among the children, for which he had a quite singular gift. He had a
+simple and direct way with them, equally removed from both petting and
+authoritativeness. His own natural childlikeness came out--and indeed
+all his life he preserved the innocence, the impulsiveness, the mingled
+impatience and docility of a child more than any man I ever saw.
+
+I remember a conversation I had with Hugh about this time. An offer had
+been made to him, through me, of an important country living. He said
+that he was extraordinarily happy at Kemsing but that he was too
+comfortable--he needed more discipline. He said further that he was
+beginning to find that he had the power of preaching, and that it was in
+this direction rather than in the direction of pastoral activity that
+his life was going to lie.
+
+It was rather a pettish conversation. I asked him whether he might not
+perhaps find the discipline he needed in doing the pastoral work which
+did not interest him, rather than in developing his life on lines which
+he preferred. I confess that it was rather a priggish line to take; and
+in any case it did not come well from me because as a schoolmaster I
+think I always pursued an individualistic line, and worked hard on my
+own private basis of preferences rather than on the established system
+of the school. But I did not understand Hugh at this date. It is always
+a strain to find one whom one has always regarded as a boy, almost as a
+child, holding strong and definitely matured views. I thought him
+self-absorbed and wilful--as indeed he was--but he was pursuing a true
+instinct and finding his real life.
+
+He then received an invitation to become a mission preacher, and went to
+consult Archbishop Temple about it. The Archbishop told him, bluffly and
+decisively, that he was far too young, and that before he took it upon
+himself to preach to men and women he ought to have more experience of
+their ways and hearts.
+
+But Hugh with his usual independence was not in the least daunted. He
+had an interview with Dr. Gore, now Bishop of Oxford, who was then Head
+of the House of the Resurrection at Mirfield, and was accepted by him as
+a probationer in the Community. Hugh went to ask leave of Archbishop
+Maclagan, and having failed with one Primate succeeded with another.
+
+The Community of the Resurrection was established by Bishop Gore as an
+Anglican house more or less on Benedictine lines. It acquired a big
+house among gardens, built, I believe, by a wealthy manufacturer. It
+has since been altered and enlarged, but Hugh drew an amusing set of
+sketches to illustrate the life there, in which it appears a rueful and
+rather tawdry building, of yellow stone and blue slate, of a shallow and
+falsetto Gothic, or with what maybe called Gothic sympathies. It is at
+Mirfield, near Bradford, in the Calder valley; the country round full of
+high chimneys, and the sky much blurred with smoke, but the grounds and
+gardens were large, and suited to a spacious sort of retirement. From
+the same pictures I gather that the house was very bare within and
+decidedly unpleasing, with no atmosphere except that of a denuded
+Victorian domesticity.
+
+Some of the Brothers were occupied in definitely erudite work, editing
+liturgical, expository, and devotional works; and for these there was a
+large and learned library. The rest were engaged in evangelistic mission
+work with long spaces of study and devotion, six months roughly being
+assigned to outside activities, and six to Community life. The day
+began early, the Hours were duly recited. There was work in the morning
+and after tea, with exercise in the afternoon. On Saturday a chapter was
+held, with public confession, made kneeling, of external breaches of the
+rule. Silence was kept from Compline, at ten o'clock, until the next
+day's midday meal; there was manual work, wood-chopping, coal-breaking,
+boot-cleaning and room-dusting. For a long time Hugh worked at
+step-cutting in the quarry near the house, which was being made into a
+garden. The members wore cassocks with a leather belt. They were called
+"Father" and the head of the house was "Senior" or "Superior."
+
+The vows were simple, of poverty, chastity, and obedience, but were
+renewed annually for a period of thirteen months, accompanied by an
+expression of an intention, only, to remain in the community for life.
+As far as I remember, if a Brother had private means, he was bound to
+hand over his income but not his capital, while he was a member, and the
+copyright of all books written during membership belonged absolutely to
+the Community. Hugh wrote the book of mystical stories, _The Light
+Invisible_, at this time; it had a continuous sale, and he used
+humorously to lament the necessity of handing over the profits to the
+Order, long after he had left it and joined the Church of Rome. The
+Brothers were not allowed, I think, to possess any personal property,
+and received clothing and small luxuries either as gifts, or purchased
+them through orders from the Bursar. Our dear old family nurse, Beth, to
+whom Hugh was as the apple of her eye, used to make him little presents
+of things that he needed--his wardrobe was always scanty and
+threadbare--and would at intervals lament his state of destitution. "I
+can't bear to think of the greedy creatures taking away all the
+gentlemen's things!"
+
+There was a chapel in the house, of a High Anglican kind, where
+vestments and incense were used, and plainsong sung. There were about
+fourteen Brothers.
+
+Hugh was obviously and delightfully happy at Mirfield. I remember well
+how he used to describe the pleasure of returning to it from a Mission,
+the silence, the simplicity of the life, the liberty underlying the
+order and discipline. The tone of the house was admirably friendly and
+kindly, without gossip, bickering or bitterness, and Hugh found himself
+among cheerful and sympathetic companions, with the almost childlike
+mirthfulness which comes of a life, strict, ascetic, united, and free
+from worldly cares. He spent his first two years in study mainly, and
+extended his probation. It illustrates the fact that he was acquainting
+himself strangely little with current theological thought that the cause
+of his delay was that he was entirely taken aback by a sermon of Dr.
+Gore's on the Higher Criticism. The whole idea of it was completely
+novel to Hugh, and upset him terribly, so that he thought he could
+hardly recover his balance. Neither then nor later had he the smallest
+sympathy with or interest in Modernism. Finally he took the vows in
+1901; my mother was present. He was installed, his hand kissed by the
+Brethren, and he received the Communion in entire hopefulness and
+happiness. I was always conscious, in those days, that Hugh radiated an
+atmosphere of intense rapture and ecstasy about him: the only drawback
+was that, in his rare visits to home, he was obviously pining to be back
+at Mirfield.
+
+Then his work began; and he says that refreshed and reinvigorated as
+they were before going on a Mission, by long, quiet, and careful
+preparation, they used to plunge into their work with ardent and eager
+enthusiasm. The actual mission work was hard. Hugh records that once
+after a Mission in London they spent four days in interviewing people
+and hearing confessions for eleven hours a day, with occasional sermons
+interspersed.
+
+At times some of the Brothers went into residence at Westminster, in Dr.
+Gore's house--he was a Canon of the Abbey--and there Hugh preached his
+only sermon in the Abbey. But he was now devoting himself to Mission
+preaching, and perfecting his system. He never thought very highly of
+his gift of exposition. "I have a certain facility in preaching, but not
+much," he once said, adding, "I have far more in writing." And I have
+heard him say often that, if he let himself go in preaching, his
+tendency was to become vulgar. I have in my possession hundreds of his
+skeleton notes. They consist of the main points of his argument, written
+out clearly and underlined, with a certain amount of the texture
+indicated, sentence-summaries, epigrammatic statements, dicta, emphatic
+conclusions. He attained his remarkable facility by persistent,
+continuous, and patient toil; and a glance at his notebooks and
+fly-leaves would be the best of lessons for anyone who was tempted to
+depend upon fluid and easy volubility. He used to say that, after long
+practice, a sermon would fall into shape in a very few moments; and I
+remember his once taking carefully written address of my own,
+summarising and denuding it, and presenting me with a little skeleton of
+its essence, which he implored me to use; though I had not the courage
+to do so. He said, too, that he believed that he could teach anyone of
+ordinary brain-power and choice of language to preach extempore on these
+lines in six months, if only he would rigidly follow his method. His
+arguments, in the course of his sermons, did not always seem to me very
+cogent; but his application of them was always most clear and effective.
+You always knew exactly what he was driving at, and what point he had
+reached; if it was not good logic, it was extremely effective logic, and
+you seemed to run hand in hand with him. I remember a quite admirable
+sermon he preached at Eton at this date--it was most simple and moving.
+But at the same time the effect largely depended upon a grace of which
+he was unconscious--quaint, naive, and beautiful phrasing, a fine
+poetical imagination, tiny word-pictures, and a youthful and impetuous
+charm. His gestures at that time were free and unconstrained, his voice
+resonant, appealing, and clear.
+
+He used to tell innumerable stories of his sermon adventures. There was
+a story of a Harvest Festival sermon near Kemsing, in the days when he
+used a manuscript; he found on arriving at the church that he had left
+it behind him, and was allowed to remain in the vestry during the
+service, writing out notes on the inside of envelopes torn open, with
+the stump of a pencil which would only make marks at a certain angle.
+The service proceeded with a shocking rapidity, and when he got to the
+pulpit, spread out his envelopes, and addressed himself to the
+consideration of the blessings of the Harvest, he found on drawing to an
+end that he had only consumed about four minutes. He went through the
+whole again, slightly varying the phraseology, and yet again repeated
+the performance; only to find, on putting on his coat, that the
+manuscript was in his pocket all the time.
+
+He used to say that the most nervous experience in the world was to go
+into a street or market-place of a town where he was to hold a Mission
+with open-air sermons, and there, without accompaniment, and with such
+scanty adherents as he could muster, strike up a hymn. By-standers would
+shrug their shoulders and go away smiling. Windows would be opened,
+figures would lean out, and presently withdraw again, slamming the
+casement.
+
+Hugh was always extremely nervous before a sermon. He told me that when
+he was about to preach, he did not generally go in for the service, but
+remained in the vestry until the sermon; and that he would lie on a sofa
+or sit in a chair, in agonies of nervousness, with actual attacks of
+nausea, and even sickness at times, until he was summoned, feeling that
+he could not possibly get through. This left him after speaking a few
+words: but he also maintained that on the rare occasions when he felt
+quite confident and free from nervousness, the result was a failure: he
+said that a real anxiety as to the effect of the sermon was a necessary
+stimulus, and evoked a mental power which confidence was apt to leave
+dormant.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE CHANGE
+
+
+Hugh has himself traced in full detail, in his book _The Confessions of
+a Convert_, how he gradually became convinced that it was his duty to
+make his submission to the Church of Rome; and I will not repeat the
+story here. But I can recall very distinctly the period during which he
+was making up his mind. He left Mirfield in the early summer of 1903, so
+that when I came home for the summer holidays, he was living there. I
+had myself just accepted from King Edward the task of editing Queen
+Victoria's letters, and had resigned my Eton mastership. Hugh was then
+engaged in writing his book _By What Authority_ with inconceivable
+energy and the keenest possible enjoyment. His absorption in the work
+was extraordinary. He was reading historical books and any books
+bearing on the history of the period, taking notes, transcribing. I have
+before me a large folio sheet of paper on which he has written very
+minutely hundreds of picturesque words and phrases of the time, to be
+worked into the book. He certainly soaked himself in the atmosphere of
+the time, and I imagine that the details are correct, though as he had
+never studied history scientifically, I expect he is right in saying
+that the mental atmosphere which he represented as existing in
+Elizabethan times was really characteristic of a later date. He said of
+the book: "I fear it is the kind of book which anyone acquainted with
+the history, manners, and customs of the Elizabethan age should find no
+difficulty in writing." He found many faults subsequently with the
+volume, but he convinced himself at the time that the Anglican
+post-Reformation Church had no identity or even continuity with the
+pre-Reformation Church.
+
+He speaks of himself as undergoing an experience of great unhappiness
+and unrest. Undoubtedly leaving the Mirfield Community was a painful
+severance. He valued a friendly and sympathetic atmosphere very much,
+and he was going to migrate from it into an unknown society, leaving his
+friends behind, with a possibility of suspicion, coldness, and
+misunderstanding. It was naturally made worse by the fact that all my
+father's best and oldest friends were Anglicans, who by position and
+tradition would be likely to disapprove most strongly of the step, and
+even feel it, if not an aspersion on my father's memory, at all events a
+disloyal and unfilial act--as indeed proved to be the case. But I doubt
+if these considerations weighed very much with Hugh. He was always
+extremely independent of criticism and disapproval, and though he knew
+many of my father's friends, through their visits to our house, he had
+not made friends with them on his own account--and indeed he had always
+been so intent on the life he was himself leading, that he had never
+been, so to speak, one of the Nethinims of the sanctuary; nor had the
+dependent and discipular attitude, the reverential attachment to
+venerable persons, been in the least congenial to him. He had always
+rather effaced himself in the presence of our ecclesiastical visitors,
+and had avoided the constraint of their dignity. Indeed, up to this time
+he had not much gone in search of personal relationships at all except
+with equals and contemporaries.
+
+But the ignorance of the world he was about to enter upon was a more
+serious factor in his outlook. He knew that he would have to enter
+submissively and humbly an entirely strange domain, that he would have
+to join a chilly and even suspicious circle--for I suppose a convert to
+any new faith is apt to be regarded, until he is fully known, as
+possibly weak, indeterminate, and fluctuating, and to be treated with
+compassion rather than admiration. With every desire to be sympathetic,
+people in conscious possession of security and certainty are naturally
+inclined to regard a claimant as bent on acquisition rather than as a
+hero eager for self-sacrifice.
+
+Certainly Hugh's dejection, which I think was reserved for his tired
+moments, was not apparent. To me, indeed, he appeared in the light of
+one intent on a great adventure, with all the rapture of confidence and
+excitement about him. As my mother said, he went to the shelter of his
+new belief as a lover might run to the arms of his beloved. Like the
+soldier in the old song, he did not linger, but "gave the bridle-reins a
+shake." He was not either melancholy or brooding. He looked very well,
+he was extremely active in mind and in body.
+
+I find the following extract from my diary of August:
+
+"_August_ 1903.--In the afternoon walked with Hugh the Paxhill round.
+Hugh is in very good cheerful spirits, steering in a high wind straight
+to Rome, writing a historical novel, full of life and jests and laughter
+and cheerfulness; not creeping in, under the shadow of a wall, sobbing
+as the old cords break; but excited, eager, jubilant, enjoying."
+
+His room was piled with books and papers; he used to rush into meals
+with the glow of suspended energy, eat rapidly and with appetite--I have
+never seen a human being who ate so fast and with so little preference
+as to the nature of what he ate--then he would sit absorbed for a
+moment, and ask to be excused, using the old childish formula: "May I
+get down?" Sometimes he would come speeding out of his room, to read
+aloud a passage he had written to my mother, or to play a few chords on
+the piano. He would not as a rule join in games or walks--he went out
+for a short, rapid walk by himself, a little measured round, and flew
+back to his work. He generally, I should think, worked about eight hours
+a day at this time. In the evening he would play a game of cards after
+dinner, and would sit talking in the smoking-room, rapidly consuming
+cigarettes and flicking the ash off with his forefinger. He was also, I
+remember, very argumentative. He said once of himself that he was
+perpetually quarrelling with his best friends. He was a most experienced
+coat-trailer! My mother, my sister, my brother, Miss Lucy Tait who lives
+with us, and myself would find ourselves engaged in heated arguments,
+the disputants breathing quickly, muttering unheeded phrases, seeking in
+vain for a loophole or a pause. It generally ended by Hugh saying with
+mournful pathos that he could not understand why everyone set on
+him--that he never argued in any other circle, and he could only entreat
+to be let alone. It is true that we were accustomed to argue questions
+of every kind with tenacity and even with invective. But the fact that
+these particular arguments always dealt with the inconsistencies and
+difficulties of ecclesiastical institutions revealed their origin. The
+fact was that at this time Hugh was accustomed to assert with much
+emphasis some extremely provocative and controversial position. He was
+markedly scornful of Anglican faults and mannerisms, and behaved both
+then and later as if no Anglicans could have any real and vital belief
+in their principles, but must be secretly ashamed of them. Yet he was
+acutely sensitive himself, and resented similar comments; he used to
+remind me of the priest who said to Stevenson "Your sect--for it would
+be doing it too much honour to call it a religion," and was then pained
+to be thought discourteous or inconsiderate.
+
+Discourteous, indeed, Hugh was not. I have known few people who could
+argue so fiercely without personal innuendo. But, on the other hand, he
+was both triumphant and sarcastic. There was an occasion at a later date
+when he advanced some highly contestable points as assumptions, and my
+aunt, Mrs. Henry Sidgwick, in an agony of rationality, said to him, "But
+these things are surely matters of argument, Hugh?" To which Hugh
+replied, "Well, you see, I have the misfortune, as you regard it, of
+belonging to a Church which happens to know."
+
+Here is another extract from my diary at this time:
+
+"_August_ 1903.--At dinner Hugh and I fell into a fierce argument, which
+became painful, mainly, I think, because of Hugh's vehemence and what I
+can only call violence. He reiterates his consciousness of his own
+stupidity in an irritating way. The point was this. He maintained that
+it was uncharitable to say, 'What a bad sermon So-and-so preached,' and
+not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the sickening stuff
+one generally hears'; uncharitable to say, 'What nasty soup this is!'
+and not uncharitable to say, 'Well, it is better than the filthy pigwash
+generally called soup.' I maintained that to say that, one must have
+particular soups in one's mind; and that it was abusing more sermons and
+soups, and abusing them more severely, than if one found fault with one
+soup or one sermon.
+
+"But it was all no use. He was very impatient if one joined issue at any
+point, and said that he was interrupted. He dragged all sorts of red
+herrings over the course, the opinions of Roman theologians, and
+differences between mortal and venial sin, &c. I don't think he even
+tried to apprehend my point of view, but went off into a long rigmarole
+about distinguishing between the sin and the sinner; and said that it
+was the sin one ought to blame, not the sinner. I maintained that the
+consent of the sinner's will was of the essence of the sin, and that the
+consent of the will of the sinner to what was not in itself wrong was
+the essence of sin--_e.g._ not sinful to drink a glass of wine, but,
+sinful if you had already had enough.
+
+"It was rather disagreeable; but I get so used to arguing with absolute
+frankness with people at Eton that I forget how unpleasant it may sound
+to hearers--and it all subsided very quickly, like a boiling pot."
+
+I remember, too, at a later date, that he produced some photographs of
+groups of, I think, Indian converts at a Roman Catholic Mission, and
+stated that anyone who had eyes to see could detect which of them had
+been baptized by the expression of their faces. It was, of course, a
+matter which it was impossible to bring to the test; but he would not
+even admit that catechumens who were just about to be baptized could
+share the same expression as those who actually had been baptized. This
+was a good instance of his provocative style. But it was always done
+like a game. He argued deftly, swiftly, and inconclusively, but the
+fault generally lay in his premisses, which were often wild assumptions;
+not in his subsequent argument, which was cogent, logical, and admirably
+quick at finding weak points in his adversary's armour. At the same time
+he was wholly placable. No one could so banish and obliterate from his
+mind the impression of the harshest and fiercest arguments. The
+effervescence of his mind subsided as quickly as it arose. And my whole
+recollection of the period is that he was in a state of great mental and
+spiritual excitement, and that he was experiencing to the full the joys
+of combat and action.
+
+While the interest of composition lasted, he remained at home, but the
+book was soon done. He was still using the oratory in the house for
+celebrations, and I believe that he occasionally helped in the services
+of the parish church. The last time I actually heard him preach was at
+the previous Christmas, when the sermon seemed to me both tired and
+hard, as of one whose emotions were strained by an interior strife.
+
+Among his diversions at this time he painted, on the casement windows of
+the oratory, some figures of saints in water-colour. The designs were
+quaint, but in execution they were the least successful things he ever
+did; while the medium he employed was more apt to exclude light than to
+tinge it.
+
+These strange figures became known in the village as "Mrs. Benson's
+dolls." They were far more visible from outside than from within, and
+they looked like fantastic puppets leaning against the panes. What use
+my mother was supposed to make of them, or why she piled her dolls, tier
+above tier, in an upper window was never explained. Hugh was very
+indignant when their artistic merit was called in question, but later on
+he silently effaced them.
+
+The curious intensity and limitation of Hugh's affections were never
+more exemplified than in his devotion to a charming collie, Roddy,
+belonging to my sister, the most engaging dog I have ever known. Roddy
+was a great truant, and went away sometimes for days and even weeks.
+Game is carefully preserved on the surrounding estates, and we were
+always afraid that Roddy, in his private hunting expeditions, might fall
+a victim to a conscientious keeper's gun, which, alas, was doubtless the
+cause of his final and deeply lamented disappearance. Hugh had a great
+affection for Roddy, and showed it, when he came to Tremans, by keeping
+Roddy constantly at his heels, having him to sleep in his room, and
+never allowing him out of his sight. For the first day or two Roddy
+enjoyed these attentions, but gradually, as the visit lasted, became
+more and more restive, and was for ever trying to give Hugh the slip;
+moreover, as soon as Hugh went away, Roddy always disappeared for a few
+days to recover his sense of independence and liberty. I can see Hugh
+now walking about in his cassock, with Roddy at his heels; then they
+would join a circle on the lawn, and Roddy would attach himself to some
+other member of the family for a little, but was always sternly whistled
+away by Hugh, when he went back to his room. Moreover, instead of going
+back to the stable to sleep snugly in the straw, which Roddy loved best,
+he had to come to the smoking-room, and then go back to sleep in a
+basket chair in Hugh's bedroom. I can remember Hugh departing at the end
+of his visit, and saying to me, "I know it's no use asking you--but do
+try to keep an eye on Roddy! It makes me miserable to think of his
+getting into the woods and being shot." But he did not think much about
+Roddy in his absence, never asked to take Roddy to Hare Street; nor did
+he manifest deep emotion when he finally disappeared, nor make long
+lamentation for him. Hugh never wasted any time in vain regrets or
+unavailing pathos.
+
+He paid visits to certain friends of my mother's to consult about his
+position. He did this solely out of deference to her wishes, but not, I
+think, with any hope that his purpose would be changed. They were, I
+believe, John Reeve, Rector of Lambeth, a very old and dear friend of
+our family, Bishop Wilkinson, and Lord Halifax. The latter stated his
+position clearly, that the Pope was Vicar of Christ _jure ecclesiastico_
+but not _jure divino_, and that it was better to remain an Anglican and
+promote unity so. Hugh had also a painful correspondence with John
+Wordsworth, late Bishop of Salisbury, a very old friend of my father's.
+The Bishop wrote affectionately at first, but eventually became somewhat
+indignant, and told Hugh plainly that a few months' work in a slum
+parish would clear his mind of doubt; the correspondence ended by his
+saying emphatically that he regarded conversion almost as a loss of
+sanity. No doubt it was difficult for one of immense patristic and
+theological learning, who was well versed in the historical aspect of
+the affair as well as profoundly conscious of the reality of his own
+episcopal commission, to enter the lists with a son of his old friend.
+But neither sympathy nor harshness could have affected Hugh at this
+time, any more than advice to return could alter the position of a man
+who had taken a leap and was actually flying through the air.
+
+Hugh then went off on a long bicycle tour by himself, dressed as a
+layman. He visited the Carthusian Monastery of St Hugh, near West
+Grinstead, which I afterwards visited in his company. He spent a night
+or two at Chichester, where he received the Communion in the cathedral;
+but he was in an unhappy frame of mind, probably made more acute by
+solitude.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE DECISION
+
+
+By this time we all knew what was about to happen. "When a man's mind is
+made up," says the old Irish proverb, "his feet must set out on the
+way."
+
+Just before my brother made his profession as a Brother of the Mirfield
+Community, he was asked by Bishop Gore whether he was in any danger of
+becoming a Roman Catholic. My brother said honestly, "Not so far as I
+can see." This was in July 1901. In September 1903 he was received into
+the Church of Rome. What was it which had caused the change? It is very
+difficult to say, and though I have carefully read my brother's book,
+the _Confessions of a Convert_, I find it hard to give a decisive
+answer. I have no intention of taking up a controversial attitude, and
+indeed I am little equipped for doing so. It is clear that my brother
+was, and had for some time been, searching for something, let us call it
+a certainty, which he did not find in the Church of England. The
+surprise to me is that one whose religion, I have always thought, ran
+upon such personal and individualistic lines, should not have found in
+Anglicanism the very liberty he most desired. The distinguishing feature
+of Anglicanism is that it allows the largest amount of personal liberty,
+both as regards opinion and also as regards the use of Catholic
+traditions, which is permitted by an ecclesiastical body in the world.
+The Anglican Church claims and exercises very little authority at all.
+Each individual Bishop has a considerable discretionary power, and some
+allow a far wider liberty of action than others. In all cases,
+divergences of doctrine and practice are dealt with by personal
+influence, tact, and compromise, and _force majeure_ is invoked as
+little as possible. In the last hundred years, during which there have
+been strong and active movements in various directions in the Church of
+England both towards Catholic doctrine and Latitudinarianism, such
+synodical and legal action as has been taken has generally proved to be
+a mistake. It is hard to justify the system logically and theoretically,
+but it may be said that the methods of the Church have at least been
+national, in the sense that they have suited the national temperament,
+which is independent and averse to coercive discipline. It may, I
+believe, be truly asserted that in England any Church which attempted
+any inquisition into the precise doctrine held by its lay members would
+lose adherents in large numbers. Of late the influence of the English
+Church has been mainly exerted in the cause of social reform, and her
+tendency is more and more to condone divergences of doctrine and opinion
+in the case of her ministers when they are accompanied by spiritual
+fervour and practical activity. The result has certainly been to pacify
+the intellectual revolt against religious opinion which was in full
+progress some forty years ago. When I myself was at the university some
+thirty years ago, the attitude of pronounced intellectuals against
+religious opinion was contemptuous and even derisive. That is not the
+case now. The instinct for religion is recognised as a vital part of the
+human mind, and though intellectual young men are apt at times to tilt
+against the travesty of orthodoxy which they propound for their own
+satisfaction, there is a far deeper and wider tolerance and even
+sympathy for every form of religious belief. Religion is recognised as a
+matter of personal preference, and the agnostic creed has lost much of
+its aggressive definiteness.
+
+It appears to me that, so far as I can measure the movement of my
+brother's mind, when he decided first to take Orders his religion was of
+a mystical and aesthetic kind; and I do not think that there is any
+evidence that he really examined the scientific and agnostic position at
+all. His heart and his sense of beauty were already engaged, and life
+without religion would have scented an impossibility to him. When he
+took Orders, his experience was threefold. At the Eton Mission he was
+confronted by an Anglicanism of a devout and simple kind, which
+concentrated itself almost entirely on the social aspect of
+Christianity, on the love of God and the brotherhood of man. The object
+of the workers there was to create comradeship, and to meet the problems
+of conduct which arose by a faith in the cleansing and uplifting power
+of God. Brotherly love was its first aim.
+
+I do not think that Hugh had ever any real interest in social reform, in
+politics, in causes, in the institutions which aim at the consolidation
+of human endeavour and sympathy. He had no philosophic grasp of history,
+nor was he a student of the psychology of religion. His instincts were
+all individualistic and personal; and indeed I believe that all his life
+he was an artist in the largest sense, in the fact that his work was
+the embodiment of dreams, the expression of the beauty which he
+constantly perceived. His ideal was in one sense a larger one than the
+technically artistic ideal, because it embraced the conception of moral
+beauty even more ardently than mere external beauty. The mystical
+element in him was for ever reaching out in search of some Divine
+essence in the world. He was not in search at any time of personal
+relations. He attracted more affection than he ever gave; he rejoiced
+its sympathy and kindred companionship as a flower rejoices in sunshine;
+but I think he had little taste of the baffled suffering which
+accompanies all deep human passion. He once wrote "God has preserved me
+extraordinarily from intimacies with others. He has done this, not I. I
+have longed for intimacies and failed to win them." He had little of the
+pastoral spirit; I do not think that he yearned over unshepherded souls,
+or primarily desired to seek and save the lost. On the other hand he
+responded eagerly to any claim made to himself for help and guidance,
+and he was always eager not to chill or disappoint people who seemed to
+need him. But he found little satisfaction in his work at the Eton
+Mission, and I do not think he would ever have been at home there.
+
+At Kemsing, on the other hand, he had an experience of what I may fairly
+call the epicureanism of religion. The influences there were mainly
+aesthetic; the creation of a circle like that at Kemsing would have been
+impossible without wealth. Beautiful worship, refined enjoyment,
+cultivated companionship were all lavished upon him. But he soon tired
+of this, because it was an exotic thing. It was a little paradise of a
+very innocent kind, from which all harsh and contradictory elements had
+been excluded. But this mere sipping of exquisite flavours became to him
+a very objectless thing, because it corresponded to no real need. I
+believe that if at this time he had discovered his literary gifts, and
+had begun seriously to write, he might have been content to remain
+under such conditions, at all events for a time. But he had as yet no
+audience, and had not begun to exercise his creative imagination.
+Moreover, to a nature like Hugh's, naturally temperate and ardent, and
+with no gross or sensuous fibre of any kind, there was a real craving
+for the bareness and cleanness of self-discipline and asceticism. There
+is a high and noble pleasure in some natures towards the reduction and
+disregard of all material claims and limitations, by which a freedom and
+expansiveness of the spirit can be won. Such self-denial gives to the
+soul a freshness and buoyancy which, for those who can pursue it, is in
+itself an ecstasy of delight. And thus Hugh found it impossible to stay
+in an atmosphere which, though exquisitely refined and quiet, yet
+hampered the energy of aspiration and adventure.
+
+And so he came to the Mirfield Community, and for a time found exactly
+what he wanted. The Brotherhood did not mainly concern itself with the
+organisation of social reform, while it reduced the complications of
+life to a spare and rigorous simplicity. The question is, why this life,
+which allowed him to apply all his gifts and powers to the work which
+still, I think, was the embodiment of his visions, did not completely
+satisfy him?
+
+I think, in the first place, that it is probable that, though he was not
+conscious of it, the discipline and the subordination of the society did
+not really quite give him enough personal freedom. He continued for a
+time to hanker after community life; he used to say, when he first
+joined the Church of Rome, that he thought he might end as a Carthusian,
+or later on as a Benedictine. But he spoke less and less of this as the
+years went on, and latterly I believe that he ceased to contemplate it,
+except as a possibility in case his powers of speech and writing should
+fail him. I believe that he really, thought perhaps unconsciously,
+desired a freer hand, and that he found that the community life on the
+whole cramped his individuality. His later life was indeed a complete
+contrast to anything resembling community life; his constant
+restlessness of motion, his travels, his succession of engagements both
+in all parts of England as well as in Rome and America, were really, I
+do not doubt, more congenial to him; while his home life ultimately
+became only his opportunity for intense and concentrated literary work.
+
+But beyond and above that lay the doctrinal question. He sums up what he
+came to believe in a few words, that the Church of Rome was "the
+divinely appointed centre of unity," and he felt the "absolute need of a
+Teaching Church to preserve and to interpret the truths of Christianity
+to each succeeding generation." Once convinced of this, argument
+mattered little. Hugh was entirely fearless, adventurous, and
+independent; he had no ambitions in the ordinary sense of the word; that
+is to say he made no frontal attack upon promotion or respect. He was
+not what is called a "safe" man; he had neither caution or prudence, nor
+any regard for average opinion. I do not think he ever gave allegiance
+to any personality, nor took any direct influence from anyone. The
+various attempts he made to consult people of different schools of
+thought, all carefully recorded in his _Confessions_, were made
+courteously and deferentially; but it seems to me that any opposition or
+argument that he encountered only added fuel to the fire, and aroused
+his reason only to combat the suggestions with which he did not
+instinctively agree. Indeed I believe that it was his very isolation,
+his independence, his lack of any real deference to personal authority,
+which carried him into the Church of Rome. One who knew Hugh well and
+indeed loved him said to me a little bitterly that he had become a Roman
+Catholic not because his faith was strong, but because it was weak.
+There was a touch of truth in this. Hugh did with all his heart desire
+to base his life upon some impersonal unquestionable certainty; and
+where a more submissive mind might have reposed, as a disciple, upon the
+strength of a master, Hugh required to repose upon something august,
+age-long, overpowering, a great moving force which could not be too
+closely or precisely interrogated, but which was a living and breathing
+reality, a mass of corporate experience, in spite of the inconsistencies
+and irrationalities which must beset any system which has built up a
+logical and scientific creed in eras when neither logic nor science were
+fully understood.
+
+The fundamental difference between Catholicism and Protestantism lies
+ultimately in the old conflict between liberty and discipline, or rather
+in the degree to which each is valued. The most ardent lover of liberty
+has to admit that his own personal inclinations cannot form a
+satisfactory standard of conduct. He must in certain matters subjugate
+his will and his inclination to the prevailing laws and principles and
+beliefs, and he must sacrifice his private aims and desires to the
+common interest, even when his reason and will may not be convinced.
+That is a simple matter of compromise, and the sacrifice is made as a
+matter of expediency and duty rather than as a matter of emotion. But
+there are other natures to whom it is essential to live by emotion, and
+to whom it is a relief and delight to submerge their private
+inclinations in some larger national or religious emotion. We have seen
+of late, in the case of Germany, what tremendous strength is generated
+in a nation which can adore a national ideal so passionately that they
+can only believe it to be a blessing to other nations to have the chance
+given them, through devastation and defeat, of contributing to the
+triumph of German ideals. I do not mean that Catholicism is prepared to
+adopt similarly aggressive methods. But what Hugh did not find in
+Anglicanism was a sense of united conviction, a world-policy, a faith in
+ultimate triumph, all of which he found in Catholicism. The Catholic
+believes that God is on his side; the Anglican hopes that he is on the
+side of God. Among Anglicans, Hugh was fretted by having to find out how
+much or how little each believed. Among Catholics, that can be taken for
+granted. They are indeed two different qualities and types of faith, and
+produce, or perhaps express, different types of character. Hugh found in
+the Roman Church the comfort of corporate ideals and corporate beliefs;
+and I frankly admit that the more we became acquainted with Catholicism
+the more did we recognise the strong and simple core of evangelicalism
+within it, the mutual help and counsel, the insistence on reparation as
+the proof of penitence, the insight into simple human needs, the
+paternal indulgence combined with gentle authoritativeness. All this is
+eminently and profoundly Christian. It is not necessary here to say what
+the Anglican does not find in it or at what point it seems to become
+inconsistent with reason and liberty. But I desire to make it clear
+that what Hugh needed was an emotional surrender and a sense of
+corporate activity, and that his conversion was not a logical one, but
+the discovery of a force with which his spirit was in unison, and of a
+system which gave him exactly the impetus and the discipline which he
+required.
+
+It is curious to note that Father Tyrell, whom Hugh consulted, said to
+him that he could not receive officially any convert into the Church
+except on terms which were impossible to persons of reason; and this is
+so far true that I do not believe that Hugh's conversion was a process
+of either intellect or reason. I believe that it was a deep instinctive
+and emotional need for a basis of thought so strong and vivid that he
+need not question it. I believe he had long been seeking for such a
+basis, and that he was right to accept it, because he did so in entire
+simplicity and genuineness. My brother was not sceptical nor analytic;
+he needed the repose of a large submission, of obedience to an
+impersonal ideal. His work lay in the presentment of religious emotion,
+and for this he needed a definite and specific confidence. In no other
+Church, and least of all in Anglicanism, could this be obtained. I do
+not mean for a moment that Hugh accepted the Catholic faith simply as a
+conscious relief; he was convinced frankly and fully that the Church of
+Christ could not be a divided society, but must have a continuity of
+doctrine and tradition. He believed that to be the Divine plan and
+method. Having done this, his duty and his delight were one. He tasted
+the full joy of obedience, the relief of not having to test, to
+question, to decide; and thus his loyalty was complete, because his
+heart was satisfied, and it was easier to him to mistrust his reason
+rather than to mistrust his heart. He had been swayed to and fro by many
+interests and ardours and influences; he had wandered far afield, and
+had found no peace in symbolism uncertain of what it symbolised, or in
+reason struggling to reconcile infinite contradictions. Now he rowed no
+more against the stream; he had found no human master to serve, and now
+he had found a great ancient and living force which could bear him on.
+That was, I think, the history of his spiritual change; and of one I am
+sure, that no surrender was ever made so guilelessly, so
+disinterestedly, and in so pure and simple a mood.
+
+He has told the story of his own reception very simply and impressively.
+He wrote to my mother, "It has happened," and I see that he wrote also
+just before it to me. I quote from my diary:
+
+"_September 9_, 1903.--Also a note from Hugh, from the Woodchester
+Dominican Convent, saying that he thinks he will be received this week,
+very short but affectionate. He says he won't attempt to say all that is
+in his mind. I replied, saying that I could not wish, knowing how he
+felt, the he should do otherwise--and I blessed him in a form of words."
+
+It, may be frankly said that however much we regretted his choice, we
+none of us had the slightest wish to fetter it, or to discourage Hugh
+from following his true and conscientious convictions. One must
+recognise that the sunshine and the rain of God fall in different ways
+and at different times upon those who desire to find Him. I do not
+wholly understand in my mind how Hugh came to make the change, but
+Carlyle speaks truly when he says that there is one moral and spiritual
+law for all, which is that whatever is honestly incredible to a man that
+he may only at his direst peril profess or pretend to believe. And I
+understand in my heart that Hugh had hitherto felt like one out on the
+hillside, with wind and mist about him, and with whispers and voices
+calling out of the mist; and that here he found a fold and a comradeship
+such as he desired to find, and was never in any doubt again. And I am
+sure that he soon began to feel the tranquillity which comes from having
+taken, after much restlessness and anxiety, a hard course and made a
+painful choice.
+
+At first, however, he was deeply conscious of the strain through which
+he had passed. He wrote to me in answer to the letter mentioned above:
+
+                                                  _Sept. 23_, '03.
+
+      ... Thank you so very much for your letter. It was delightful to
+      get it. I can't tell you what happiness it has been through
+      everything to know that you, as well as the others, felt as you
+      did: and now your letter comes to confirm it.
+
+      There is surprisingly little to say about myself; since you ask--
+
+      I have nothing more than the deepest possible conviction--no
+      emotionalism or sense of relief or anything of the kind.
+
+      As regards my plans--they too are tolerably vague.... All the
+      first week I was with the Dominicans--who, I imagine, will be my
+      final destination after two or three years.
+
+      ... I imagine that I shall begin to read Theology again, in view
+      of future Ordination: and either I shall go to Rome at the
+      beginning of November; or possibly to Prior Park, near Bath--a
+      school, where I shall teach an hour a day, and read Theology.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      Mamma and I are meeting in London next week. She really has been
+      good to me beyond all words. Her patience and kindness have been
+      unimaginable.
+
+      Well--this is a dreary and egotistical letter. But you asked me to
+      write about myself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      Well--I must thank you again for your extreme kindness--I really
+      am grateful: though I am always dumb about such things when I meet
+      people.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I remember taking a walk with Provost Hornby at Eton at this date. My
+diary says:
+
+"_October_ 1903.--We talked of Hugh. The Provost was very kind and wise.
+He said, 'Such a change is a testimony of sincerity and earnestness'; he
+went on to tell a story which Jowett told him of Dr. Johnson, who said,
+when a husband and wife of his acquaintance went over to Rome, 'God
+bless them both.' At the end of the walk he said to me, 'When you write
+to your brother, remember me very kindly to him, and give him, as a
+message from me, what Johnson said.' This I thought was beautiful--more
+than courteous."
+
+I sent this message to Hugh, who was deeply touched by it, and wrote the
+Provost an affectionate and grateful letter.
+
+Soon after this he went out to Rome to prepare himself for the Orders
+which he received nine months later. My mother went to see him off. As
+the train went out of the station, and Hugh was lost to view, my mother
+turned round and saw Bishop Wilkinson, one of our dearest friends,
+waiting for her. She had told him before that Hugh was leaving by that
+train, and had asked him to bear both herself and Hugh in mind. He had
+not intruded on the parting, but now he drew my mother's hand into his
+arm and said, "If Hugh's father, when he was here on earth, would--and
+he would--have always wished him to follow his conscience, how much more
+in Paradise!" and then he went away without another word.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+CAMBRIDGE AGAIN
+
+
+Hugh went to the College of San Silvestro in Rome, and there he found
+many friends. He said that on first joining the Catholic Church, he felt
+like a lost dog; he wrote to me:
+
+                                                  Rome, _Nov. 26_, '03.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+      My own news is almost impossible to tell, as everything is simply
+      bewildering: in about five years from now I shall know how I felt;
+      but at present I feel nothing but discomfort; I hate foreign
+      countries and foreign people, and am finding more every day how
+      hopelessly insular I am: because of course, under the
+      circumstances, this is the proper place for me to be: but it is a
+      kind of dentist's chair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But he soon parted once and for all with his sense of isolation; while
+the splendours of Rome, the sense of history and state and world-wide
+dominion, profoundly impressed his imagination. He was deeply inspired,
+too, by the sight of simple and and unashamed piety among the common
+folk, which appeared to him to put the colder and more cautious religion
+of England to shame. Perhaps he did not allow sufficiently for the
+temperamental differences between the two nations, but at any rate he
+was comforted and reassured.
+
+I do not know much of his doings at this time; I was hard at work at
+Windsor on the Queen's letters, and settling into a new life at
+Cambridge; but I realised that he was building up happiness fast. One
+little touch of his perennial humour comes back to my mind. He was
+describing to me some ceremony performed by a very old and absent-minded
+ecclesiastic, and how two priests stood behind him to see that he
+omitted nothing, "With the look in their eyes," said Hugh, "that you
+can see in the eyes of a terrier who is standing with ears pricked at
+the mouth of a burrow, and a rabbit preparing to bolt from within."
+
+He came back a priest, and before long he settled at Cambridge, living
+with Monsignor Barnes at Llandaff House. Monsignor Barnes was an old
+Eton contemporary and friend of my own, who had begun by going to
+Woolwich as a cadet; then he had taken orders in the Church of England,
+and then had joined the Church of Rome, and was put in charge of the
+Roman Catholic undergraduates at Cambridge. Llandaff House is a big,
+rather mysterious mansion in the main street of Cambridge, opposite the
+University Arms Hotel. It was built by the famous Bishop Watson of
+Llandaff, who held a professorship at Cambridge in conjunction with his
+bishopric, and never resided in his diocese at all. The front rooms of
+the big, two-gabled house are mostly shops; the back of the house
+remains a stately little residence, with a chapel, a garden with some
+fine trees, and opens on to the extensive and quiet park of Downing
+College.
+
+Hugh had a room which looked out on to the street, where he did his
+writing. From that date my real friendship with him began, if I may use
+the word. Before that, the difference in our ages, and the fact that I
+was a very busy schoolmaster only paying occasional visits to home, had
+prevented our seeing very much of each other in anything like equal
+comradeship. But at the beginning of 1905 I went into residence at
+Magdalene as a Fellow, and Hugh was often in and out, while I was made
+very welcome at Llandaff House. Hugh had a small income of his own, and
+he began to supplement it by writing. His needs and tastes were all
+entirely simple. He seems to me, remembering him, to have looked
+extremely youthful in those days, smaller in some ways than he did
+later. He moved very rapidly; his health was good and his activity
+great. He made friends at several of the colleges, he belonged to the
+Pitt Club, and he used to attend meetings of an undergraduates' debating
+club--the Decemviri--to which he had himself belonged. One of the
+members of that time has since told me that he was the only older man he
+had ever known who really mixed with undergraduates and debated with
+them on absolutely equal terms. But indeed, so far as looks went, though
+he was now thirty-four, he might almost have been an undergraduate
+himself.
+
+We arranged always to walk together on Sunday afternoons. As an old
+member of King's College, I had a key of the garden there in the Backs,
+and a pass-key of the college gates, which were locked on Sunday during
+the chapel service. We always went and walked about that beautiful
+garden with its winding paths, or sat out in the bowling-green. Then we
+generally let ourselves into the college grounds, and went up to the
+south porch of the chapel, where we could hear the service proceeding
+within. I can remember Hugh saying, as the Psalms came to an end
+"Anglican double chants--how comfortable and delicious, and how entirely
+irreligious!"
+
+We talked very freely and openly of all that was in our minds, and
+sometimes even argued on religion. He used to tell me that I was much
+nearer to his form of faith than most Anglicans, and I can remember his
+saying that the misery of being an Anglican was that it was all so
+rational--you had to make up your mind on every single point. "Why not,"
+he said, "make it up on one point--the authority of the Church, and have
+done with it?" "Because I can't be dictated to on points in which I feel
+I have a right to an opinion." "Ah, that isn't a faith!" "No, only a
+faith in reason." At which he would shrug his shoulders, and smile. Once
+I remember his exhibiting very strong emotion. I had spoken of the
+worship of the Virgin, and said something that seemed to him to be in a
+spirit of levity. He stopped and turned quite pale. "Ah, don't say
+that!" he said; "I feel as if you had said something cynical about
+someone very dear to me, and far more than that. Please promise not to
+speak of it again."
+
+It was in these days that I first perceived the extraordinary charm of
+both mind and manner that he possessed. In old days he had been amusing
+and argumentative enough, but he was often silent and absorbed. I think
+his charm had been developed by his new experiences, and by the number
+of strangers he had been brought into contact with; he had learned an
+eager and winning sort of courtesy, which grew and increased every year.
+On one point we wholly and entirely agreed--namely, in thinking rudeness
+of any kind to be not a mannerism, but a deadly sin. "I find injustice
+or offensiveness to myself or anyone else," he once wrote, "the hardest
+of all things to forgive." We concurred in detesting the habit of
+licensing oneself to speak one's mind, and the unpleasant English trait
+of confusing sincerity with frank brutality. There is a sort of
+Englishman who thinks he has a right, if he feels cross or contemptuous,
+to lay bare his mood without reference to his companion's feelings; and
+this seemed to us both the ugliest of phenomena.
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Russell & Sons_
+
+ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1907. AGED 35]
+
+Hugh saw a good deal of academic society in a quiet way--Cambridge is a
+hospitable place. I remember the consternation which was caused by his
+fainting away suddenly after a Feast at King's. He had been wedged into
+a corner, in front of a very hot fire, by a determined talker, and
+suddenly collapsed. I was fetched out to see him and found him stretched
+on a form in the Hall vestibule, being kindly cared for by the Master of
+a College, who was an eminent surgeon and a professor. Again I remember
+that we entered the room together when dining with a hospitable Master,
+and were introduced to a guest, to his bewilderment, as "Mr. Benson" and
+"Father Benson." "I must explain," said our host, "that Father Benson is
+not Mr. Benson's father!" "I should have imagined that he might be his
+son!" said the guest.
+
+After Hugh had lived at Llandaff House for a year he accepted a curacy
+at the Roman Catholic church at Cambridge. I do not know how this came
+about. A priest can be ordained "to a bishop," in which case he has to
+go where he is sent, or "on his patrimony," which gives him a degree of
+independence. Hugh had been ordained "on his patrimony," but he was
+advised to take up ministerial work. He accordingly moved into the
+Catholic rectory, a big, red-brick house, with a great cedar in front of
+it, which adjoins the church. He had a large sitting-room, looking out
+at the back over trees and gardens, with a tiny bedroom adjoining. He
+had now the command of more money, and the fitting up of his rooms was a
+great delight to him; he bought some fine old oak furniture, and fitted
+the walls with green hangings, above which he set the horns of deer,
+which he had at various times stalked and shot--he was always a keen
+sportsman. I told him it was too secular an ornament, but he would not
+hear me.
+
+Canon Scott, the rector, the kindest and most hospitable of men,
+welcomed me to the rectory, and I was often there; and our Sunday walks
+continued. Hugh became known at once as the best preacher in Cambridge,
+and great congregations flocked to hear him. I do not think he had much
+pastoral work to do; but now a complication ensued. A good many
+undergraduates used to go to hear him, ask to see him, discuss religious
+problems with him. Moreover, before he left the Anglican communion, Hugh
+had conducted a mission at Cambridge, with the result that several of
+his hearers became Roman Catholics. A certain amount of orthodox alarm
+was felt and expressed at the new and attractive religious element which
+his sermons provided, and eventually representations were made to one
+that I should use my influence with Hugh that he should leave Cambridge.
+This I totally declined to do, and suggested that the right way to meet
+it was to get an Anglican preacher to Cambridge of persuasive eloquence
+and force. I did eventually speak to Hugh about it, and he was
+indignant. He said: "I have not attempted, and shall not attempt, any
+sort of proselytisation of undergraduates--I do not think it fair, or
+even prudent. I have never started the subject of religion on any
+occasion with any undergraduate. But I must preach what I believe; and,
+of course, if undergraduates consult me, I shall tell them what I think
+and why I think it." This rule he strictly adhered to; and I do not know
+of any converts that he made.
+
+Moreover, it was at this time that strangers, attracted by his sermons
+and his books, began to consult him by letter, and seek interviews with
+him. In this relation he showed himself, I have reason to know,
+extraordinarily kind, sympathetic, and straightforward. He wrote fully
+and as often as he was consulted; he saw an ever-increasing number of
+inquirers. He used to groan over the amount of time he had to spend in
+letters and interviews, and he used to say that it often happened that
+the people least worth helping took up the most time. He always gave his
+very best; but the people who most vexed him were those engaged in
+religious inquiry, not out of any profound need, but simply for the
+emotional luxury; and who argued round and round in a circle for the
+pleasure of being sympathised with. Hugh was very clear and practical in
+his counsels, and he was, I used to think, like a wise and even stern
+physician, never influenced by sentiment. It was always interesting to
+discuss a "case" with him. I do not mean that he discussed his cases
+with me, but I used to ask him how to deal with some intellectual or
+moral problem, and his insight seemed to me wonderfully shrewd,
+sensible, and clear. He had a masterly analysis, and a power of seeing
+alternatives and contingencies which always aroused my admiration. He
+was less interested in the personal element than in the psychological;
+and I used to feel that his strength lay in dealing with a case
+scientifically and technically. Sometimes he had desperate, tragic, and
+even alarming cases to deal with; and here his fearlessness and
+toughness stood him in good stead. He never shrank appalled before any
+moral enormity. He told me once of a series of interviews he had with a
+man, not a Catholic, who appealed to him for help in the last extremity
+of moral degradation. He became aware at last that the man was insane,
+but he spared no pains to rescue him.
+
+When he first began this work he had a wave of deep unhappiness; the
+responsibility of the priesthood so overwhelmed him that for a time, I
+have learned, he used to pray night after night, that he might die in
+his sleep, if it were possible. I saw and guessed nothing of this, but I
+think it was a mood of exhaustion, because he never exhibited anything
+but an eager and animated interest in life.
+
+One of his pleasures while he was at Cambridge and ever after was the
+writing, staging, and rehearsing of little mystery-plays and sacred
+scenes for the children of St. Mary's Convent at Cambridge and for the
+choir boys of Westminster Cathedral. These he thoroughly enjoyed; he
+always loved the companionship of children, and had exactly the right
+way with them, treating them seriously, paternally, with a brisk
+authority, and never sentimentally. They were beautiful and moving
+little dramas, reverently performed. Unhappily I never saw one of them.
+Even now I remember with a stab of regret that he came to stay with me
+at Cambridge for one of these, and besought me to go with him. But I was
+shy and busy, and though I could easily have arranged to go, I did not
+and he went off alone. "Can't you really manage it?" he said.
+"Pray-a-do!" But I was obdurate, and it gives me pain now to think that
+I churlishly refused, though it is a false pathos to dwell on such
+things, and both foolish and wrong to credit the dead with remembering
+trifling grievances.
+
+But I do not think that his time at the Catholic rectory was a really
+very happy one. He needed more freedom; he became gradually aware that
+his work lay in the direction of writing, of lecturing, of preaching,
+and of advising. He took his own measure and knew his own strength. "I
+have _no_ pastoral gift," he once said to me very emphatically. "I am
+not the man to _prop_," he once wrote; "I can kindle sometimes, but not
+support. People come to me and pass on." Nor was he at ease in the
+social atmosphere of Cambridge--it seemed to him bleak, dry,
+complacently intellectual, unimaginative. He felt himself what the law
+describes as "a suspected person," with vague designs on the spiritual
+life of the place.
+
+At first, he was not rich enough to live the sort of life he desired;
+but he began to receive larger incomes from his books, and to see that
+it would soon be in his power to make a home for himself. It was then
+that our rambles in search of possible houses began, while at the same
+time he curtailed his own personal expenditure to the lowest limits,
+till his wardrobe became conspicuous for its antiquity. This, however,
+he was wholly indifferent about; his aim was to put together a
+sufficient sum to buy a small house in the country, and there to settle
+"for ever," as he used to say. "A small Perpendicular chapel and a
+white-washed cottage next door is what I want just now," he wrote about
+this time. "It must be in a sweet and secret place--preferably in
+Cornwall." Or again, "I want and mean--if it is permitted--to live in a
+small cottage in the country; to say mass and office, and to write
+books. I think that is honestly my highest ideal. I hate fuss and
+officialdom and backbiting--I wish to be at peace with God and man."
+This was his dream. The house at Hare Street was the result.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+HARE STREET
+
+
+I have no doubt at all that Hugh's seven years at Hare Street were the
+happiest of his life. He generally had some companion living there--Mr.
+Gabriel Pippet, who did much skilful designing and artistic work with
+and for him; Dr. Sessions, who managed his household affairs and acted
+as a much needed secretary; Father Watt, who was in charge of the
+Hormead Mission. At one time he had the care of a little boy, Ken
+Lindsay, which was, I think, the greatest joy he ever had. He was a most
+winning and affectionate child, and Hugh's love of children was very
+great. He taught Ken, played with him, told him stories. Among his
+papers are little touching trifles which testify to his love of the
+child--a withered flower, or some leaves in an envelope, "flower which
+Ken gave me," "leaves with which Ken tried to make a crown," and there
+are broken toys of Ken's put away, and little games and pictures which
+Hugh contrived for his pleasure, memories of happy days and hours. He
+used to talk about Ken and tell stories about his sayings and doings,
+and for a time Ken's presence gave a sense of home about Hare Street,
+and filled a part of Hugh's heart as nothing else did. It was a pleasure
+to see them together; Hugh's whole voice and bearing changed when Ken
+was with him, but he did not spoil him in the least or indulge him
+foolishly. I remember sitting with Hugh once when Ken was playing about,
+and how Hugh followed him with his eyes or listened to Ken's confidences
+and discoveries. But circumstances arose which made it necessary that
+Ken should go, and the loss of him was a great grief to Hugh--though
+even so, I admired the way in which he accepted the necessity. He always
+loved what he had got, but did not miss it if he lost it.
+
+[Illustration: AT HARE STREET, 1909
+
+Mr. J. Reeman.    Ken.    R. H. Benson.]
+
+He made friends, too, with the people of the village, put his chapel at
+their disposal for daily use, and had a Christmas festival there for
+them. He formed pleasant acquaintances with his country neighbours, and
+used to go to fish or shoot with them, or occasionally to dine out. He
+bought and restored a cottage which bordered on his garden, and built
+another house in a paddock beyond his orchard, both of which were let to
+friends. Thus it was not a solitary life at all.
+
+He had in his mind for a long time a scheme which he intended to carry
+out as soon as he had more leisure,--for it must be remembered that much
+of his lecturing and occasional writing was undertaken simply to earn
+money to enable him to accomplish his purposes. This was to found a
+community of like-minded people, who desired more opportunity for quiet
+devotion and meditation, for solitary work and contemplation, than the
+life of the world could afford them. Sometimes he designed a joint
+establishment, sometimes small separate houses; but the essence of it
+all was solitude, cheered by sympathy and enough friendly companionship
+to avoid morbidity. At one time he planned a boys' home, in connection
+with the work of his friend Mr. Norman Potter, at another a home of rest
+for troubled and invalided people, at another a community for poor and
+sensitive people, who "if they could get away from squalor and conflict,
+would blow like flowers." With his love of precise detail, he drew up
+time-tables, so many hours for devotion and meditation, so many for work
+and exercise, so many for sociability.
+
+But gradually his engagements increased so that he was constantly away,
+preaching and lecturing; and thus he was seldom at home for more than
+two or three days at a time. Thrice he went to Rome to preach courses of
+sermons, and thrice he went to America, where he made many friends.
+Until latterly he used to go away for holidays of various kinds, a motor
+tour in France, a trip to Switzerland, where he climbed mountains; and
+he often went to stay with Lord Kenmare at Killarney, where he stalked
+deer, shot and fished, and lived an out-of-door life. I remember his
+describing to me an incident on one of those visits, how he was
+returning from a deer-stalk, in the roughest clothes, when he saw a
+little group of people in a by-lane, and presently a message arrived to
+say that there was a dying woman by the roadside, and could he go to
+her. He went in haste, heard her confession, and gave her absolution,
+while the bystanders withdrew to a distance, that no word might be
+overheard, and stood bareheaded till the end came.
+
+His engagement-books, of which I have several, show a dangerous
+activity; it is difficult to see how any man could have done so much of
+work involving so much strain. But he had a clear idea in his mind. He
+used to say that he did not expect to have a long life. "Many thanks,"
+he wrote to a friend in 1905, in reply to a birthday letter. "I
+certainly want happy returns; but not very many." He also said that he
+was prepared for a break-down in his powers. He intended to do his work
+in his own way, and as much as he could while his strength lasted. At
+the same time he was anxious to save enough money to enable him to live
+quietly on at Hare Street whatever happened. The result was that even
+when he came back from his journeys the time at Hare Street was never a
+rest. He worked from morning to night at some piece of writing, and
+there were very few commissions for articles or books which he refused.
+He said latterly, in reply to an entreaty from his dear friend Canon
+Sharrock, who helped him to die, that he would take a holiday: "No, I
+never take holidays now--they make me feel so self-conscious."
+
+He was very careful to keep up with his home and his family ties. He
+used to pay regular visits to Tremans, my mother's house, and was
+generally there at Christmas or thereabouts. Latterly he had a Christmas
+festival of his own at Hare Street, with special services in the
+chapel, with games and medals for the children, and with presents for
+all alike--children, tenants, servants, neighbours, and friends. My
+sister, who lately spent a Christmas with him, says that it was more
+like an ideal Christmas than anything she had ever seen, and that he
+himself, full of eagerness and kindness and laughter, was the centre and
+mainspring of it all. He used to invite himself over to Cambridge not
+infrequently for a night or two; and I used to run over for a day to
+Hare Street to see his improvements and to look round. I remember once
+going there for an afternoon and suggesting a stroll. We walked to a
+hamlet a little way off, but to my surprise he did not know the name of
+it, and said he had never been there. I discovered that he hardly ever
+left his own little domain, but took all his exercise in gardening or
+working with his hands. He had a regular workroom at one time in the
+house, where he carved, painted, or stitched tapestries--but it was all
+intent work. When he came to Cambridge for a day, he would collect
+books from all parts of the house, read them furiously, "tearing the
+heart out of them" like Dr. Johnson. Everything was done thus, at top
+speed. His correspondence was enormous; he seldom failed to acknowledge
+a letter, and if his advice were asked he would write at great length,
+quite ungrudgingly; but his constant writing told on his script. Ten
+years ago it was a very distinctive, artistic, finely formed hand, very
+much like my father's, but latterly it grew cramped and even illegible,
+though it always had a peculiar character, and, as is often the case
+with very marked hand-writings, it tended to be unconsciously imitated
+by his friends.
+
+[Illustration: _Copyright, C. Chichester_
+
+HARE STREET, IN THE GARDEN
+
+JULY 1911
+
+R. H. Benson.    Dr. F. L. Sessions.]
+
+I used to wonder, in talk with him, how he found it possible to stay
+about so much in all sorts of houses, and see so many strange people.
+"Oh, one gets used to it," he said, adding: "besides, I am quite
+shameless now--I say that I must have a room to myself where I can work
+and smoke, and people are very good about that."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+AUTHORSHIP
+
+
+As to Hugh's books, I will here say a few words about them, because they
+were a marked part of himself; he put much skill and care into making
+them, and took fully as much rapture away. When he was writing a book,
+he was like a man galloping across country in a fresh sunny morning, and
+shouting aloud for joy. But I do not intend to make what is called an
+appreciation of them, and indeed am little competent to do so. I do not
+know the conventions of the art or the conditions of it. "Oh, I see,"
+said a critical friend to me not long ago in much disgust, "you read a
+novel for the ideas and the people and the story." "What do you read it
+for?" I said. "Why, to see how it is done, of course," he replied.
+Personally I have never read a book in my life to see how it is done,
+and what interests me, apart from the book, is the person behind it--and
+that is very elementary. Moreover, I have a particular dislike of all
+historical novels. Fact is interesting and imagination is interesting;
+but I do not care for webs of imagination hung on pegs of fact.
+Historical novels ought to be like memoirs, and they are never in the
+least like memoirs; in fact they are like nothing at all, except each
+other.
+
+_The Light Invisible_ always seemed to me a beautiful book. It was in
+1902 that Hugh began to write it, at Mirfield. He says that a book of
+stories of my own, _The Hill of Trouble_, put the idea into his
+head--but his stories have no resemblance to mine. Mine were archaic
+little romances, written in a style which a not unfriendly reviewer
+called "painfully kind," an epigram which always gave Hugh extreme
+amusement. His were modern, semi-mystical tales; he says that he
+personally came to dislike the book intensely from the spiritual point
+of view, as being feverish and sentimental, and designed unconsciously
+to quicken his own spiritual temperature. He adds that he thought the
+book mischievous, as laying stress on mystical intuition rather than
+Divine authority, and because it substituted the imagination for the
+soul. That is a dogmatic objection rather than a literary objection; and
+I suppose he really disliked it because it reminded him later on of a
+time when he was moving among shadows. But it was the first book in
+which he spread his wings, and there is, I think, a fresh and ingenuous
+beauty about it, as of a delighted adventure among new faculties and
+powers.
+
+I believe that the most beautiful book he ever wrote was _Richard
+Raynal, Solitary_; and I know he thought so himself. Of course it is an
+archaic book, and written, as musicians say, in a _mode_. It is easier
+in some ways to write a book in a style which is not authentically one's
+own, and literary imitation is not the highest art; but _Richard Raynal_
+has the beauty of a fine tapestry designed on antique lines, yet
+replenished and enriched by modern emotion, like Tennyson's _Mort
+d'Arthur_. Yet I am sure there is a deep charm of pure beauty in the
+book, both of thought and handling, and I believe that he put into it
+the best essence of his feeling and imagination.
+
+As to his historical books, I can feel their vigour and vitality, and
+their deft use of old hints and fragments. I remember once discussing
+one of them with him, and saying that his description of Queen Elizabeth
+seemed to me very vivid, but that it reminded me of a not very authentic
+picture of that queen, in spangled crimson and lace, which hung in the
+hall at Addington. Hugh laughed, and said: "Well, I must confess that
+very picture was in my mind!"
+
+With regard to his more modern stories it is impossible not to be
+impressed by their lightness and swiftness, their flashes of beauty and
+emotion, their quick rippling talk; but it is hard, at times, not to
+feel them to be vitiated by their quite unconscious tendency to
+represent a point of of view. They were once called by a malign reviewer
+"the most detestable kind of tract," and though this is what the French
+call a _saugrenu_ criticism, which implies something dull, boorish, and
+provincial, yet it is easy to recognise what is meant. It is not unjust
+to resent the appearance of the cultivated and sensitive Anglican,
+highly bred and graceful, who is sure to turn out hard and
+hollow-hearted, or the shabby, trotting, tobacco-scented Roman Catholic
+priest, who is going to emerge at a crisis as a man of inspired dignity
+and solemnity. Sometimes, undoubtedly, the books are too intent upon
+expunging other forms of religious life, rather than in tracing the
+movements of the soul. Probably this was inseparable from the position
+Hugh had taken up, and there was not the slightest pose, or desire to
+improve the situation about his mind. The descriptions, the
+lightly-touched details, the naturalness and ease of the talk are
+wholly admirable. He must have been a very swift observer, both of
+nature and people, because he never gave the least impression of
+observing anything. I never saw him stop to look at a view, or go into
+raptures over anything beautiful or picturesque; in society he was
+either silent and absorbed, or more commonly extremely animated and
+expansive. But he never seemed to be on the look-out for any impressions
+at all, and still less to be recording them.
+
+I believe that all his books, with the exception, perhaps, of _Richard
+Raynal_, can be called brilliant improvisations rather than deliberate
+works of art. "I write best," he once said, "when I rely most on
+imagination." The time which elapsed from his conception of an idea to
+the time when the book was completed was often incredibly short. I
+remember his telling me his first swift thought about _The Coward_; and
+when I next asked him about it, the book had gone to the publishers and
+he was writing another. When he was actually engaged in writing he was
+oblivious of all else, and lived in a sort of dream. I have several
+sketches of books which he made. He used to make a rough outline, a kind
+of _scenario_, indicating the gradual growth of the plot. That was done
+rapidly, and he always said that the moment his characters were
+conceived, they began to haunt his mind with emphatic vividness; but he
+wrote very fast, and a great quantity at a time. His life got fuller and
+fuller of engagements, but he would get back to Hare Street for a day or
+two, when he would write from morning to night with a brief interval for
+gardening or handicraft, and briefer intervals for meals. He was fond of
+reading aloud bits of the books, as they grew. He read all his books
+aloud to my mother in MS., and paid careful heed to her criticisms,
+particularly with reference to his female characters, though it has been
+truly said that the women in his novels are mostly regarded either as
+indirect obstacles or as direct aids to conversion.
+
+Mr. Belloc once said, very wisely and truly, that inertia was the
+breeding-ground of inspiration. I think, on the whole, that the total
+and entire absence of any species of inertia in Hugh's temperament
+reacted in a way unfavourably on his books. I do not think they simmered
+in his mind, but were projected, hot and smoking, from the fiery
+crucible of thought. There seems to me a breathless quality about them.
+Moreover I do not think that there is much trace of the subtle chemistry
+of mutual relations about his characters. In life, people undergo
+gradual modifications, and other people exert psychological effects upon
+them. But in Hugh's books the characters are all fiercely occupied in
+being themselves from start to finish; they have exhausted moods, but
+they have not dull or vacant moods; they are always typical and
+emphatic. This is really to me the most interesting thing about his
+books, that they are all projections of his own personality into his
+characters. He is behind them all; and writing with Hugh was, like so
+many things that he did, a game which he played with all his might. I
+have spoken about this elsewhere, because it accounted for much in his
+life; and when he was engaged in writing, there was always the delicious
+sense of the child, furiously and absorbingly at play, about him.
+
+It is said that no artist is ever really interested in another artist's
+work. My brothers, Fred and Hugh, my sister and myself would sometimes
+be at home together, and all writing books. Hugh was, I think, always
+the first inclined to produce his work for inspection; but we had a
+tacit convention which was not in the least unsympathetic, not to feel
+bound to be particularly interested in each other's books. My books, I
+felt, bored Hugh more than his bored me; but there was this advantage,
+that when we read each other's books, as we often did, any critical
+praise that we could offer was much more appreciated than if we had
+felt bound to proffer conventional admiration. Hugh once told me that he
+envied my _sostenuto_; but on another occasion, when I said I had
+nothing to write about, and feared I had written too many books, Hugh
+said: "Why not write a book about having nothing to write about?" It was
+good advice and I took it. I can remember his real and obvious pleasure
+when I once praised _Richard Raynal_ to him with all my might. But
+though he enjoyed praise, it was always rather because it confirmed his
+own belief that his work was worth doing. He did not depend in the
+smallest degree either upon applause or sympathy. Indeed, by the time
+that a book was out, he had generally got another on the stocks, and did
+not care about the previous one at all.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1910. AGED 39]
+
+Neither do I think that his books emanated from a high artistic ideal. I
+do not believe that he was really much interested in his craft. Rather
+he visualised a story very vividly, and then it seemed to him the finest
+fun in the world to spin it all as rapidly as he could out of his
+brain, to make it all alert with glancing life. It was all a personal
+confession; his books bristle with his own dreams, his own dilemmas, his
+own social relations; and when he had once firmly realised the Catholic
+attitude, it seemed to him the one thing worth writing about.
+
+While I write these pages I have been dipping into _The
+Conventionalists_. It is full of glow and drama, even melodrama; but
+somehow it does not recall Hugh to my mind. That seems strange to me,
+but I think of him as always larger than his books, less peremptory,
+more tolerant, more impatient of strain. The book is full of strain; but
+then I remember that in the old days, when he played games, he was a
+provoking and even derisive antagonist, and did not in the least resent
+his adversaries being both; and I come back to my belief in the game,
+and the excitement of the game. I do not, after all, believe that his
+true nature flowed quite equably into his books, as I think it did into
+_The Light Invisible_ and _Richard Raynal_. It was a demonstration, and
+he enjoyed using his skill and adroitness; he loved to present the
+smouldering and flashing of passions, the thrill and sting of which he
+had never known. Saved as he was by his temperament alike from deep
+suffering and tense emotion, and from any vital mingling either with the
+scum and foam or with the stagnancy and mire of life, the books remain
+as a brilliant illusion, with much of the shifting hues and changing
+glimmer of his own ardent and restless mind rippling over the surface of
+a depth which is always a little mysterious as to the secrets it
+actually holds.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+FAILING HEALTH
+
+
+Hugh's health on the whole was good up to the year 1912, though he had a
+troublesome ailment, long ignored, which gave him a good deal of
+malaise. He very much disliked being spoken to about his health, and
+accepted no suggestions on the subject. But he determined at the end of
+1912, after enduring great pain, to have an operation, which was quite
+successful, but the shock of which was considerable. He came down to
+Tremans just before, and it was clear that he suffered greatly; but so
+far from dreading the operation, he anticipated it with a sense of
+immense relief, and after it was over, though he was long unwell, he was
+in the highest spirits. But he said after he came back from Rome that he
+felt ten years older; and I can recall his coming down to Cambridge not
+long after and indulging one evening in an immense series of yawns, for
+which he apologised, saying, "I'm tired, I'm tired--not at the top, but
+deep down inside, don't you know?"
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by H. Abbott, Lindfield_
+
+AT TREMANS, HORSTED KEYNES
+
+DECEMBER, 1913
+
+A. C. Benson.    R. H. Benson.    E. F. Benson.
+Aged 51.         Aged 42.         Aged 46.]
+
+But it was not until 1914 that his health really declined. He came over
+to Cambridge at the beginning of August, when the war was impending. He
+stayed with me over the Sunday; he was tired and overstrained,
+complained that he felt unable to fix his mind upon anything, and he was
+in considerable depression about the possibility of war. I have never
+seen him so little able to throw off an anxiety; but he dined in Hall
+with me on the Sunday night, met some old friends, and was full of talk.
+He told me later in the evening that he was in much anxiety about some
+anonymous menace which he had received. He would not enter into details,
+but he spoke very gravely about it. However, later in the month, I went
+over with a friend to see him at Hare Street, and found him in cheerful
+spirits in spite of everything. He had just got the place, he said,
+into perfect order, and now all it wanted was to be left alone. It was a
+day of bright hot sunlight, and we lunched out of doors near the chapel
+under the shade of the yew trees. He produced a peculiar and pleasant
+wine, which he had made on the most scientific principles out of his own
+grapes. We went round and looked at everything, and he showed me the
+preparation for the last adornment, which was to be a rose garden near
+the chapel. We walked into the orchard and stood near the Calvary,
+little thinking that he would be laid to rest there hardly two months
+later.
+
+The weeks passed on, and at the end of September I went to stay near
+Ambleside with some cousins, the Marshalls, in a beautiful house called
+Skelwith Fold, among lovely woodlands, with the mountains rising on
+every side, and a far-off view down Langdale. Here I found Hugh staying.
+He was writing some Collects for time of war, and read many of them
+aloud to me for criticism. He was also painting in oils, attempting very
+difficult landscapes with considerable success. They stood drying in the
+study, and he was much absorbed in them; he also was fishing keenly in a
+little trout lake near the house, and walking about with a gun. His
+spirits were very equable and good. But he told me that he had gone out
+shooting in September over some fields lent him by a neighbour, and had
+had to return owing to breathlessness; and he added that he suffered
+constantly from breathlessness and pain in the chest and arms, that he
+could only walk a few paces at a time, and then had to rest to recover
+his breath. He did not seem to be anxious about it, but he went down one
+morning to celebrate Mass at Ambleside, refusing the offer of the car,
+and found himself in such pain that he then and there went to a doctor,
+who said that he believed it to be indigestion.
+
+He sat that morning after breakfast with me, smoking, and complaining
+that the pain was very severe. But he did not look ill; and the pain
+suddenly left him. "Oh what bliss!" he said. "It's gone, suddenly and
+entirely--and now I must go out and finish my sketch."
+
+The only two things that made me feel anxious were that he had given up
+smoking to a considerable extent, and that he said he meant to consult
+our family doctor; but he was so lively and animated--I remember one
+night the immense zest and intensity with which he played a game of
+throwing an old pack of cards across the room into the grate--that it
+was impossible to think that his condition was serious.
+
+Indeed, I said good-bye to him when he went off, without the least
+anticipation of evil. My real hope was that he would be told he had been
+overdoing it, and ordered to rest; and a few days later, when I heard
+that this was what the doctor advised, I wrote to him suggesting that he
+should come and settle at Cambridge for a couple of months, do exactly
+what he liked, and see as much or as little of people as he liked. It
+seems that he showed this letter to one of the priests at Manchester,
+and said, "There, that is what I call a real invitation--that is what I
+shall do!"
+
+Dr. Ross-Todd saw him, and told him that it was a neuralgic affection,
+"false angina," and that his heart was sound, but that he must diminish
+his work. He pleaded to be allowed to finish his imminent engagements;
+the doctor said that he might do that, if he would put off all
+subsequent ones. This was wisely done, in order to reassure him, as he
+was an excitable though not a timid patient. He was at Hare Street for a
+day or two, and his trusted servant, Mr. Reeman, tells me that he seemed
+ill and out of spirits. The last words he said as he drove away, looking
+round the lime-encircled lawn, were, "Ah! the leaves will all be gone
+when I come home again."
+
+He preached at Salford on October 4, and went to Ulverston on October 5,
+where he conducted a mission. On October 10 he returned, and Canon
+Sharrock says that he arrived in great pain, and had to move very
+slowly. But he preached again on October 11, though he used none of the
+familiar gestures, but stood still in the pulpit. He suffered much after
+the sermon, and rested long in a chair in the sacristy. He started to go
+to London on the Monday morning, but had to return in the taxi, feeling
+too ill to travel. Then followed days of acute pain, during which he no
+doubt caught a severe chill. He could not sleep, and he could only
+obtain relief by standing up. He wandered restlessly one night about the
+corridors, very lightly clad, and even went out into the court. He stood
+for two or three hours leaning on the mantelpiece of his room, with
+Father Gorman sitting near him, and trying in vain to persuade him to
+retire to bed.
+
+When he was not suffering he was full of life, and even of gaiety. He
+went one of these afternoons, at his own suggestion, to a cinema show
+with one of the priests, but though he enjoyed it, and even laughed
+heartily, he said later that it had exhausted him.
+
+He wrote some letters, putting off many of his autumn and winter
+engagements. But he grew worse; a specialist was called in, and, though
+the diagnosis was entirely confirmed, it was found that pneumonia had
+set in.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE END
+
+
+I had spent a long day in London at a business meeting, where we
+discussed a complicated educational problem. I came away alone; I was
+anxious to have news of my sister, who had that morning undergone a
+slight operation; but I was not gravely disquieted, because no serious
+complications were expected.
+
+When I reached my house there were two telegrams awaiting me, one to say
+that the operation had gone well, the other from Canon Sharrock, of
+Salford, to say that my brother was dangerously ill of pneumonia. I
+wired at once for a further report, and before it arrived made up my
+mind that I must go to him. I waited till the reply came--it was a
+little more favourable--went up to London, and caught a midnight train
+for Manchester.
+
+The news had the effect which a sudden shock is apt to have, of inducing
+a sense of curious unreality. I neither read nor slept, nor even thought
+coherently. I was just aware of disaster and fear. I was alone in my
+compartment. Sometimes we passed through great, silent, deserted
+stations, or stopped outside a junction for an express to pass. At one
+or two places there was a crowd of people, seeing off a party of
+soldiers, with songs and cheers. Further north I was aware at one time
+that the train was labouring up a long incline, and I had a faint sense
+of relief when suddenly the strain relaxed, and the train began to run
+swiftly and smoothly downwards; I had just one thought, the desire to
+reach my brother, and over and over again the dread of what I might
+hear.
+
+It was still dark and chilly when I arrived at Manchester. The great
+station was nearly empty. I drove hurriedly through dimly-lit streets.
+Sometimes great factories towered up, or dark house-fronts shuttered
+close. Here there were high steel networks of viaducts overhead, or
+parapets of bridges over hidden waterways. At last I came to where a
+great church towered up, and an iron-studded door in a blank wall
+appeared. I was told this was the place, and pushing it open I went up a
+stone-flagged path, among beds of soot-stained shrubs, to where a
+lantern shone in the porch of a sombre house. There was a window high up
+on the left, where a shaded lamp was burning and a fire flickered on the
+ceiling, and I knew instinctively that this was my brother's room. I
+rang, and presently a weary-eyed, kindly priest, in a hastily-donned
+cassock, appeared. He said at once that my brother was a little better
+and was asleep. The doctors were to see him at nine. I asked where I
+could go, and he advised a hotel hard by. "We did not expect you," he
+said, "or we would have had a room ready, but now I fear we could hardly
+make you comfortable."
+
+I went to the hotel, a big, well-equipped place, and was taken to a
+bedroom, where I slept profoundly, out of utter weariness. Then I went
+down to the Bishop's House again at nine o'clock. By daylight Manchester
+had a grim and sinister air. It was raining softly and the air was heavy
+with smoke. The Bishop's House stood in what was evidently a poor
+quarter, full of mean houses and factories, all of red brick, smeared
+and stained with soot. The house itself appeared like a great college,
+with paved corridors, dark arches, and many doors. There was a lighted
+room like a sacristy, and a faint scent of incense drifted in from the
+door which led into the church. Upstairs, in a huge throne-room with a
+gilded chair of state and long, bare tables, I met the doctors--Dr.
+Bradley, a Catholic, and Professor Murray, a famous Manchester
+physician, in khaki uniform, both most gentle and kind. Canon Sharrock
+joined us, a tall, robust man, with a beautiful tenderness of manner and
+a brotherly air. They gave me a better report, but could not disguise
+from me that things were very critical. It was pneumonia of a very
+grave kind which had supervened on a condition of overwork and
+exhaustion. I see now that they had very little hope of recovery, but I
+did not wholly perceive it then.
+
+Then I went with the Canon to the end of the room. I saw two iron
+cylinders on the table with brass fittings, and somehow knew that they
+contained oxygen.
+
+The Canon knocked, and Hugh's voice said, clearly and resonantly, "Come
+in." I found him in bed, in a big library, the Bishop's own room. There
+were few signs of illness except a steam-kettle and a few bottles; a
+nurse was in the adjoining room. He was unable to speak very much, as
+his throat troubled him; but he was full of humour and brightness. I
+told him such news as I could think of. He knew that I was very busy,
+but was pleased that I had come to see him. He said that he felt really
+better, and that I should be able to go back the next day. He said a few
+words about a will he had made, but added, "Mind, I don't think I am
+going to die! I did yesterday, but I feel really better. This is only
+by way of precaution." We talked about a friend of mine in Manchester, a
+militant Protestant. "Yes," said Hugh, "he spoke of me the other day as
+a 'hell-hound'--not very tactful!" He said that he could not sleep for
+long together, but that he did not feel tired--only bored. I was told I
+must not stay long with him. He said once or twice, "It's awfully good
+of you to have come."
+
+[Illustration: _Photo by Lofthouse, Crosbie & Co._
+
+BISHOP'S HOUSE, SALFORD
+
+The Church on the left is the transept of St. John's Cathedral, Salford,
+where Hugh preached his last sermon. The room in which he died was the
+Bishop's Library. One of its windows is visible on the first floor to
+the left of the porch.]
+
+I went away after a little, feeling very much reassured. He did not give
+the impression of being gravely ill at all, he was so entirely himself.
+I wrote a few letters and then returned, while he ate his luncheon, a
+baked apple--but this was painful to him and he soon desisted. He talked
+again a little, with the same liveliness, but as he began to be drowsy,
+I left him again.
+
+Dr. Bradley soon came to me, and confessed he felt anxious. "It may be a
+long and critical business," he said. "If he can maintain his strength
+like this for several days, he may turn the corner--he is a difficult
+patient. He is not afraid, but he is excitable, and is always asking for
+relief and suggesting remedies." I said something about summoning the
+others. "On no account," he said. "It would give him the one impression
+we must try to avoid--much depends upon his own hopefulness."
+
+I went back to my hotel, slumbered over a book, went in for a little to
+the cathedral service, and came back about five o'clock. The nurse was
+not in the room at the moment. Hugh said a few words to me, but had a
+sudden attack of faintness. I gave him a little whisky at his own
+request, the doctor was fetched, and there followed a very anxious hour,
+while various remedies were tried, and eventually oxygen revived him. He
+laid his head down on the pillow, smiled at me, and said, "Oh, what
+bliss! I feel absolutely comfortable--it's wonderful."
+
+The doctor beckoned me out, and told me that I had better move my things
+across to the house and sleep there. "I don't like the look of things
+at all," he said; "your place is certainly here." He added that we had
+better wait until the morning before deciding whether the others should
+be sent for. I moved my things in, and had supper with the priests, who
+were very kind to me. They talked much about Hugh, of his gaiety and
+humour; and I saw that he had given his best to these friends of his,
+and lived with them in brotherly simplicity.
+
+I did not then think he was going to die, and I certainly expected no
+sudden change. I ought, no doubt, to have realised that the doctors had
+done their best to prepare me for his death; but the mind has an
+instinctive way of holding out the shield of hope against such fears.
+
+I was told at this time that he was to be left quiet, so I merely
+slipped in at ten o'clock. Hugh was drowsy and resting quietly; he just
+gave me a nod and a smile.
+
+The one thing which made me anxious, on thinking over our interviews in
+the course of the day was this--that he seemed to have a preoccupation
+in his mind, though he had spoken cheerfully enough about various
+matters. It did not seem either a fear or an anxiety. It was rather that
+he knew that he might die, I now believe, and that he desired to live,
+and was thinking about all the things he had to do and wished to do, and
+that his trains of thought continually ended in the thought--"Perhaps I
+may not live to do them." He wished too, I thought, to reassure himself,
+and was pleased at feeling better, and at seeing that I thought him
+better than I had expected. He was a sensitive patient, the doctor said,
+and often suggested means of keeping up his strength. But he showed no
+fear at any time, though he seemed like one who was facing a foe; like a
+soldier in the trenches with an enemy opposite him whom he could not
+quite discern.
+
+However, I went off to bed, feeling suddenly very tired--I had been for
+thirty-six hours almost without sleep, and it seemed to me as if whole
+days had passed since I left Cambridge. My room was far away, a little
+plain cell in a distant corridor high up. I slept a little; when
+suddenly, through the glass window above my door, I saw the gleam of a
+light, and became aware that someone was rapidly drawing near in the
+corridor. In a moment Canon Sharrock tapped and entered. He said "Mr.
+Benson, your brother is sinking fast--he has asked for you; he said, 'Is
+my brother anywhere near at hand?' and when I said yes, that you were in
+the house, he said, 'Thank God!' Do not lose any time; I will leave the
+nurse on the stairs to light you." He went out, and I put on a few
+things and went down the great dark arches of the staircase, with a
+glimmering light below, and through the throne-room with the nurse. When
+I came in I saw Hugh sitting up in bed; they had put a chair beside him,
+covered with cushions, for him to lean against. He was pale and
+breathing very fast, with the nurse sponging his brow. Canon Sharrock
+was standing at the foot of the bed, with his stole on, reading the
+last prayers from a little book. When I entered, Hugh fixed his eyes on
+me with a strange smile, with something triumphant in it, and said in a
+clear, natural voice, "Arthur, this is the end!" I knelt down near the
+bed. He looked at me, and I knew somehow that we understood each other
+well, that he wanted no word or demonstration, but was just glad I was
+with him. The prayers began again. Hugh crossed himself faintly once or
+twice, made a response or two. Then he said: "I beg your pardon--one
+moment--my love to them all." The big room was brightly lit; something
+on the hearth boiled over, and the nurse went across the room. Hugh said
+to me: "You will make certain I am dead, won't you?" I said "Yes," and
+then the prayers went on. Suddenly he said to the nurse: "Nurse, is it
+any good my resisting death--making any effort?" The nurse said: "No,
+Monsignor; just be as quiet as you can." He closed his eyes at this, and
+his breath came quicker. Presently he opened his eyes again and looked
+at me, and said in a low voice: "Arthur, don't look at me! Nurse, stand
+between my brother and me!" He moved his hand to indicate where she
+should stand. I knew well what was in his mind; we had talked not long
+before of the shock of certain sights, and how a dreadful experience
+could pierce through the reason and wound the inner spirit; and I knew
+that he wished to spare me the pain of seeing him die. Once or twice he
+drew up his hands as though trying to draw breath, and sighed a little;
+but there was no struggle or apparent pain. He spoke once more and said:
+"I commit my soul to God, to Mary, and to Joseph." The nurse had her
+hand upon his pulse, and presently laid his hand down, saying: "It is
+all over." He looked very pale and boyish then, with wide open eyes and
+parted lips. I kissed his hand, which was warm and firm, and went out
+with Canon Sharrock, who said to me: "It was wonderful! I have seen many
+people die, but no one ever so easily and quickly."
+
+It was wonderful indeed! It seemed to me then, in that moment, strange
+rather than sad. He had been _himself_ to the very end, no diminution of
+vigour, no yielding, no humiliation, with all his old courtesy and
+thoughtfulness and collectedness, and at the same time, I felt, with a
+real adventurousness--that is the only word I can use. I recognised that
+we were only the spectators, and that he was in command of the scene. He
+had made haste to die, and he had gone, as he was always used to do,
+straight from one finished task to another that waited for him. It was
+not like an end; it was as though he had turned a corner, and was
+passing on, out of sight but still unquestionably there. It seemed to me
+like the death of a soldier or a knight, in its calmness of courage, its
+splendid facing of the last extremity, its magnificent determination to
+experience, open-eyed and vigilant, the dark crossing.
+
+[Illustration: THE CALVARY AT HARE STREET, 1913
+
+The grave is to the left of the mound.]
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+BURIAL
+
+
+We had thought that he should be buried at Manchester; but a paper of
+directions was found saying that he wished to be buried at Hare Street,
+in his own orchard, at the foot of his Calvary. My mother arrived on the
+Monday evening, and in the course of Tuesday we saw his body for the
+last time, in biretta and cassock, with a rosary in his hands. He looked
+strangely young, like a statue carved in alabaster, with no trace of
+pain or weariness about him, simply asleep.
+
+His coffin was taken to the midnight train by the clergy of the Salford
+Cathedral and from Buntingford station by my brother Fred to his own
+little chapel, where it rested all the Thursday. On the Friday the
+Cardinal came down, with Canons from Westminster and the choir. A
+solemn Requiem was sung. The Cardinal consecrated a grave, and he was
+laid there, in the sight of a large concourse of mourners. It was very
+wonderful to see them. There were many friends and neighbours, but there
+were also many others, unknown to me and even to each other, whom Hugh
+had helped and comforted in different ways, and whose deep and visible
+grief testified to the sorrow of their loss and to the loyalty of their
+affection.
+
+I spent some strange solitary days at Hare Street in the week which
+followed, going over from Cambridge and returning, working through
+papers and letters. There were all Hugh's manuscripts and notes, his
+books of sermons, all the written evidences of his ceaseless energy. It
+was an astonishing record of diligence and patient effort. It seemed
+impossible to believe that in a life of perpetual travelling and endless
+engagements he yet had been able to accomplish all this mass of work.
+His correspondence too--though he had evidently destroyed all private
+spiritual confidences--was of wide and varied range, and it was
+difficult to grasp that it yet represented the work of so comparatively
+few years. The accumulation also of little, unknown, unnamed gifts was
+very great, while the letters of grief and sympathy which I received
+from friends of his, whose very names were unknown to me, showed how
+intricate and wide his personal relations had been. And yet he had
+carried all this burden very lightly and easily. I realised how
+wonderful his power must have been of storing away in his mind the
+secrets of many hearts, always ready to serve them, and yet able to
+concentrate himself upon any work of his own.
+
+In his directions he spoke of his great desire to keep his house and
+chapel as much as possible in their present state. "I have spent an
+immense amount of time and care on these things," he said. It seemed
+that he had nearly realised his wish, by careful economy, to live at
+Hare Street quietly and without anxiety, even if his powers had failed
+him; and it was strange to walk as I did, one day when I had nearly
+finished my task, round about the whole garden, which had been so
+tangled and weed-choked a wilderness, and the house at first so ruinous
+and bare, and to realise that it was all complete and perfect, a setting
+of order and peace. How insecure and frail the beautiful hopes of
+permanence and quiet enjoyment all seemed! I passed over the smooth
+lawn, under the leafless limes, through the yew-tree walk to the
+orchard, where the grave lay, with the fading wreaths, and little paths
+trodden in the grass; by the hazel hedge and the rose-garden, and the
+ranked vegetable rows with their dying flower-borders; into the chapel
+with its fantasy of ornament, where the lamp burned before the shrine;
+through the house, with its silent panelled rooms all so finely ordered,
+all prepared for daily use and tranquil delight. It seemed impossible
+that he should not be returning soon in joyful haste, as he used to
+return, pleased to show his new designs and additions. But I could not
+think of him as having any shadow of regret about it all, or as coming
+back, a pathetic _revenant_, to the scene of his eager inventiveness.
+That was never his way, to brood over what had been done. It was always
+the new, the untouched, the untried, that he was in search of. Hugh
+never wished that he had done otherwise, nor did he indulge in the
+passion of the past, or in the half-sad, half-luxurious retrospect of
+the days that are no more. "Ah," I could fancy him saying, "that was all
+delightful while it lasted--it was the greatest fun in the world! But
+now!"--and I knew as well in my heart and mind as if he had come behind
+me and spoken to me, that he was moving rapturously in some new
+experience of life and beauty. He loved indeed to speak of old days, to
+recall them vividly and ecstatically, as though they were actually
+present to him; and I could think of him as even delighting to go over
+with me those last hours of his life that we spent together, not with
+any shadow of dread or shrinking, but just as it pleased Odysseus to
+tell the tale of how he sped down the whirlpool, with death beneath and
+death above, facing it all, taking it all in, not cherishing any
+delusion of hope, and yet enjoying it as an adventure of real experience
+which it was good to have tasted even so.
+
+And when I came to look at some of his letters, and saw the sweet and
+generous things which he had said of myself in the old days, his
+gratitude for trifling kindnesses and gifts which I had myself
+forgotten, I felt a touch of sorrow for a moment that I had not been
+even nearer to him than I was, and more in his enlivening company; and I
+remembered how, when he arrived to see me, he would come lightly in, say
+a word of greeting, and plunge into talk of all that we were doing; and
+then I felt that I must not think of him unworthily, as having any
+grievance or shadow of concern about my many negligences and coldnesses:
+but that we were bound by ties of lasting love and trust, and shared a
+treasure of dear memories and kindnesses; and that I might leave his
+spirit in its newly found activities, take up my own task in the light
+of his vivid example, and look forward to a day when we might be again
+together, sharing recollection and purpose alike, as cheerfully and
+gladly as we had done in the good days that were gone, with all the
+added joy of the new dawn, and with the old understanding made more
+perfect.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
+
+
+Hugh was always youthful-looking for his age, light and quick in
+movement, intent but never deliberate, passing very rapidly from one
+thing to another, impatient of boredom and dullness, always desiring to
+do a thing that very minute. He was fair of complexion, with grey-blue
+eyes and a shock head of light hair, little brushed, and uncut often too
+long. He was careless of appearances, and wore clothes by preference of
+great shabbiness. He told me in 1909 that he had only bought one suit in
+the last five years. I have seen him, when gardening at Hare Street,
+wear a pair of shoes such as might have been picked up in a ditch after
+a tramp's encampment. At the same time he took a pleasure of a boyish
+kind in robes of state. He liked his Monsignor's purple, his red-edged
+cassock and crimson cincture, as a soldier likes his uniform. He was in
+no way ascetic; and though he could be and often seemed to be wholly
+indifferent to food, yet he was amused by culinary experiments, and
+collected simple savoury recipes for household use. He was by far the
+quickest eater I have ever seen. He was a great smoker of cheap
+cigarettes. They were a natural sedative for his highly strung
+temperament. I do not, think he realised how much he smoked, and he
+undoubtedly smoked too much for several years.
+
+He was always quick, prompt, and decisive. He had an extraordinary
+presence of mind in the face of danger. My sister remembers how he was
+once strolling with her, in his cassock, in a lane near Tremans, when a
+motor came down the road at a great pace, and Roddy, the collie, trotted
+out in front of it, with his back turned to the car, unconscious of
+danger. Hugh took a leap, ran up hill, snatched Roddy up just in front
+of the wheels, and fell with him against the hedge on the opposite side
+of the road.
+
+He liked a degree of comfort, and took great pleasure in having
+beautiful things about him. "I do not believe that lovely things should
+be stamped upon," he once wrote to a friend who was urging the dangers
+of a strong sense of beauty; adding, "should they not rather be led in
+chains?" Yet his taste was not at all severe, and he valued things for
+their associations and interest as much as he did for their beauty. He
+had a great accumulation of curious, pretty, and interesting things at
+Hare Street, and took a real pleasure in possession. At the same time he
+was not in the least dependent on such things, and could be perfectly
+happy in bare and ugly rooms. There was no touch of luxuriousness about
+him, and the adornment of his house was one of the games that he played.
+One of his latest amusements was to equip and catalogue his library. He
+was never very much of a reader, except for a specific purpose. He read
+the books that came in his way, but he had no technical knowledge of
+English literature. There were many English classics which he never
+looked into, and he made no attempt to follow modern developments. But
+he read books so quickly that he was acquainted more or less with a wide
+range of authors. At the same time he never wasted any time in reading
+books which did not interest him, and he knew by a sort of intuition the
+kind of books he cared about.
+
+He was of late years one of the liveliest and most refreshing of
+talkers. As a boy and a young man he was rather silent than otherwise in
+the family circle, but latterly it was just the opposite. He talked
+about anything that was in his mind, but at the same time he did not
+wish to keep the talk in his own hands, and had an eager and delighted
+recognition of his companion's thoughts and ideas.
+
+His sense of humour was unfailing, and when he laughed, he laughed with
+the whole of himself, loudly and contagiously, abandoning himself with
+tears in his eyes to helpless paroxysms of mirth. There was never the
+smallest touch of affectation or priggishness about his attitude, and he
+had none of the cautious and uneasy reverence which is apt to overshadow
+men of piety. He was intensely amused by the humorous side of the people
+and the institutions which he loved. Here are two slight illustrations
+which come back to my mind. He told me these two stories in one day at
+Tremans. One was that of a well-known Anglican Bishop who attended a
+gathering of clergy, and in his valedictory speech said that they would
+expect him to make some allusion to the fact that one who had attended
+their last meeting was no longer of the Anglican communion, having
+joined the Church of Rome. They would all, he said, regret the step
+which he had thought fit to take; but they must not forget the serious
+fall their poor friend had had from his bicycle not long before, which
+had undoubtedly affected gravely his mental powers. Then he told me of
+an unsatisfactory novice in a religious house who had been expelled from
+the community for serious faults. His own account of it was that the
+reason why he was expelled was that he used to fall asleep at
+meditation, and snore so loud that he awoke the elder brethren.
+
+Though Hugh held things sacred, he did not hold them inconveniently
+sacred, and it did not affect their sacredness if they had also a
+humorous side to them. He had no temptation to be easily shocked, and
+though he hated all impure suggestiveness, he could be amused by what
+may be called broad humour. I always felt him to be totally free from
+prudishness, and it seemed to me that he drew the line in exactly the
+right place between things that might be funny and unrefined, and things
+which were merely coarse and gross. The fact was that he had a perfectly
+simple manliness about him, and an infallible tact, which was wholly
+unaffected, as to the limits of decorum. The result was that one could
+talk to him with the utmost plainness and directness. His was not a
+cloistered and secluded temperament. He knew the world, and had no fear
+of it or shrinking from it.
+
+He dearly loved an argument, and could be both provoking and incisive.
+He was vehement, and hated dogmatic statements with which he did not
+agree. When he argued, he used a good deal of gesture, waving his hands
+as though to clear the air, emphasising what he said with little sweeps
+and openings of his hands, sometimes covering his face and leaning
+forwards, as if to gain time for the onset. His arguments were not so
+much clear as ingenious, and I never knew anyone who could defend a poor
+case so vigorously. When he was strained and tired, he would argue more
+tenaciously, and employ fantastic illustrations with great skill; but it
+always blew over very quickly, and as a rule he was good-tempered and
+reasonable enough. But he liked best a rapid and various interchange of
+talk. He was bored by slow-moving and solemn minds, but could extract a
+secret joy from pompous utterances, while nothing delighted him more
+than a full description of the exact talk and behaviour of affected and
+absurd people.
+
+His little stammer was a very characteristic part of his manner. It was
+much more marked when he was a boy and a young man, and it varied much
+with his bodily health. I believe that it never affected him when
+preaching or speaking in public, though he was occasionally nervous
+about its doing so. It was not, so to speak, a long and leisurely
+stammer, as was the case with my uncle, Henry Sidgwick, the little toss
+of whose head as he disengaged a troublesome word, after long dallying
+with a difficult consonant, added a touch of _friandise_ to his talk.
+Hugh's stammer was rather like a vain attempt to leap over an obstacle,
+and showed itself as a simple hesitation rather than as a repetition. He
+used, after a slight pause, to bring out a word with a deliberate
+emphasis, but it never appeared to suspend the thread of his talk. I
+remember an occasion, as a young man, when he took sherry, contrary to
+his wont, through some dinner-party; and when asked why he had done
+this, he said that it happened to be the only liquid the name of which
+he was able to pronounce on that evening. He used to feel humiliated by
+it, and I have heard him say, "I'm sorry--I'm stammering badly
+to-night!" but it would never have been very noticeable, if he had not
+attended to it. It is clear, however, from some of his letters that he
+felt it to be a real disability in talk, and even fancied that it made
+him absurd, though as a matter of fact the little outward dart of his
+head, as he forced the recalcitrant word out, was a gesture which his
+friends both knew and loved.
+
+He learned to adapt himself to persons of very various natures, and
+indeed was so eager to meet people on their own ground that it seems to
+me he was to a certain extent misapprehended. I have seen a good many
+things said about him since his death which seem to me to be entire
+misinterpretations of him, arising from the simple fact that they were
+reflections of his companion's mood mirrored in his own sympathetic
+mind. Further, I am sure that what was something very like patient and
+courteous boredom in him, when he was confronted with some sentimental
+and egotistical character, was interpretated as a sad and remote
+unworldliness. Someone writing of him spoke of his abstracted and
+far-off mood, with his eyes indwelling in a rapture of hallowed thought.
+This seems to me wholly unlike Hugh. He was far more likely to have been
+considering how he could get away to something which interested him
+more.
+
+Hugh's was really a very fresh and sparkling nature, never insipid,
+intent from morning to night on a vital enjoyment of life in all its
+aspects. I do not mean that he was always wanting to be amused--it was
+very far from that. Amusement was the spring of his social mood; but he
+had a passion too for silence and solitude. His devotions were eagerly
+and rapturously practised; then he turned to his work. "Writing seems to
+me now the only thing worth doing in the world," he says in one of his
+letters when he was deep in a book. Then he flung himself into gardening
+and handicraft, back again to his writings, or his correspondence, and
+again to his prayers.
+
+But it is impossible to select one of his moods, and to say that his
+true life lay there. His life lay in all of them. If work was tedious to
+him, he comforted himself with the thought that it would soon be done.
+He was an excellent man of affairs, never "slothful in business," but
+with great practical ability. He made careful bargains for his books,
+and looked after his financial interests tenaciously and diligently,
+with a definite purpose always in his mind. He lived, I am sure, always
+looking forward and anticipating. I do not believe he dwelt at all upon
+the past. It was life in which he was interested. As I walked with my
+mother about the beautiful garden, after his funeral, I said to her: "It
+seems almost too pathetic to be borne that Hugh should just have
+completed all this." "Yes," she said, "but I am sure we ought to think
+only that it meant to him seven years of very great happiness." That was
+perfectly true! If he had been called upon to leave Hare Street to take
+up some important work elsewhere, he would certainly not have dwelt on
+the pathetic side of it himself. He would have had a pang, as when he
+kissed the doorposts of his room at Mirfield on departing. But he would
+have gone forward, and he would have thought of it no more. He had a
+supreme power of casting things behind him, and he was far too intent on
+the present to have indulged in sentimental reveries of what had been.
+
+It is clear to me, from what the doctors said after his death, that if
+the pneumonia which supervened upon great exhaustion had been averted,
+he would have had to give up much of his work for a long time, and
+devote himself to rest and deliberate idleness. I cannot conceive how he
+would have borne it. He came once to be my companion for a few days,
+when I was suffering from a long period of depression and overwork. I
+could do nothing except answer a few letters. I could neither write nor
+read, and spent much of my time in the open air, and more in drowsing in
+misery over an unread book. Hugh, after observing me for a little,
+advised me to work quite deliberately, and to divide up my time among
+various occupations. It would have been useless to attempt it, for
+Nature was at work recuperating in her own way by an enforced
+listlessness and dreariness. But I have often since then thought how
+impossible it would have been for him to have endured such a condition.
+He had nothing passive about him; and I feel that he had every right to
+live his life on his own lines, to neglect warnings, to refuse advice. A
+man must find out his own method, and take the risks which it may
+involve. And though I would have done and given anything to have kept
+him with us, and though his loss is one which I feel daily and
+constantly, yet I would not have it otherwise. He put into his life an
+energy of activity and enjoyment such as I have rarely seen. He gave his
+best lavishly and ungrudgingly. Even the dreadful and tragical things
+which he had to face he took with a relish of adventure. He has told me
+of situations in which he found himself, from which he only saved
+himself by entire coolness and decisiveness, the retrospect of which he
+actually enjoyed. "It was truly awful!" he would say, with a shiver of
+pleasing horror. But it was all worked into a rich and glowing tapestry,
+which he wove with all his might, and the fineness of his life seems to
+me to consist in this, that he made his own choices, found out the
+channels in which his powers could best move, and let the stream gush
+forth. He did not shelter himself fastidiously, or creep away out of the
+glare and noise. He took up the staff and scrip of pilgrimage, and,
+while he kept his eyes on the Celestial City, he enjoyed every inch of
+the way, as well the assaults and shadows and the toils as the houses of
+kindly entertainment, with all their curious contents, the talk of
+fellow-pilgrims, the arbours of refreshment, until his feet touched the
+brink of the river, and even there he went fearlessly forward.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+RETROSPECT
+
+
+Now that I have traced the progress of Hugh's outer life from step to
+step, I will try to indicate what in the region of mind and soul his
+progress was, and I would wish to do this with particular care, even it
+the risk of repeating myself somewhat, because I believe that his nature
+was one that changed in certain ways very much; it widened and deepened
+greatly, and most of all in the seven last years of his life, when I
+believe that he found himself in the best and truest sense.
+
+As a boy, up to the age of eighteen or nineteen, it was, I believe, a
+vivid and unreflective nature, much absorbed in the little pattern of
+life as he saw it, neither expansive nor fed upon secret visions. It was
+always a decided nature. He never, as a child, needed to be amused; he
+never said, "What shall I do? Tell me what to do!" He liked constant
+companionship, but he had always got little businesses of his own going
+on; he joined in games, and joined keenly in them, but if a public game
+was not to his taste, he made no secret that he was bored, and, if he
+was released, he went off on his own errands. I do not remember that he
+ever joined in a general game because of any sociable impulse merely,
+but because it amused him; and if he separated himself and went off, he
+had no resentment nor any pathetic feeling about being excluded.
+
+When he went on to school he lived a sociable but isolated life. His
+companions were companions rather than friends. He did not, I think,
+ever form a romantic and adoring friendship, such as are common enough
+with emotional boys. He did not give his heart away; he just took a
+vivid and animated interest in the gossip, the interplay, the factions
+and parties of his circle; but it was all rather a superficial life--he
+used to say that he had neither aims nor ambitions--he took very little
+interest in his work and not much interest in games. He just desired to
+escape censure, and he was not greedy of praise. There was nothing
+listless or dreamy about it all. If he neglected his work, it was
+because he found talk and laughter more interesting. No string ran
+through his days; they were just to be taken as they came, enjoyed,
+dismissed. But he never wanted to appear other than he was, or to be
+admired or deferred to. There was never any sense of pose about hint nor
+the smallest affectation. He was very indifferent as to what was thought
+of him, and not sensitive; but he held his own, and insisted on his
+rights, allowed no dictation, followed no lead. All the time, I suppose,
+he was gathering in impressions of the outsides of things--he did not
+dip beyond that: he was full of quite definite tastes, desires, and
+prejudices; and though he was interested in life, he was not
+particularly interested in what lay behind it. He was not in the least
+impressionable, in the sense that others influenced or diverted him
+from his own ideas.
+
+Neither had he any strong intellectual bent. The knowledge which he
+needed he acquired quickly and soon forgot it. I do not think he ever
+went deeply into things in those early days, or tried to perfect himself
+in any sort of knowledge. He was neither generous nor acquisitive; he
+was detached, and always rather apt to put his little possessions away
+and to forget about them. It was always the present he was concerned
+with; he did not deal with the past nor with the future.
+
+Then after what had been not so much a slumber of the spirit as a vivid
+living among immediate impressions, the artistic nature began to awake
+in him. Music, architecture, ceremony, began to make their appeal felt;
+and he then first recognised the beauty of literary style. But even so,
+he did not fling himself creatively into any of these things at first,
+even as an amateur; it was still the perception of effects that he was
+concerned with.
+
+It was then, during his first year at Cambridge, that the first
+promptings of a vocation made themselves felt towards the priesthood.
+But he was as yet wholly unaware of his powers of expression; and I am
+sure that his first leanings to the clerical life were a search for a
+quiet and secluded fortress, away from the world, in which he might
+pursue an undisturbed and ordered life of solemnity and delicate
+impressions of a sacred sort of beauty. His desire for community life
+was caused by his decided dislike of the world, of fuss and tedium and
+conventional occupations. He was never in the least degree a typical
+person. He had no wish to be distinguished, or to influence other minds
+or lives, or to gain honour or consideration. These things simply
+appeared to him as not worth striving for. What he desired was
+companionship of a sympathetic kind and the opportunity of living among
+the pursuits he liked best. He never wished to try experiments, and it
+was always with a spectacular interest that he regarded the world.
+
+His call was very real, and deeply felt, and he waited for a whole year
+to make sure of it; but he found full decision at last.
+
+Then came his first ministerial work at the Eton Mission; and this did
+not satisfy him; his strength emerged in the fact that he did not adopt
+or defer to the ideals he found about him: a weaker character would have
+embraced them half-heartedly, tried to smother its own convictions, and
+might have ended by habituating itself to a system. But Hugh was still,
+half unconsciously, perhaps, in search of his real life; he did not
+profess to be guided by anyone, nor did he ever suspend his own judgment
+as to the worth of what he was doing; a manly and robust philanthropy on
+Christian lines was not to his taste. His instinct was rather for the
+beautiful element in religion and in life, and for a mystical
+consecration of all to God. That did not seem to him to be recognised in
+the work which he was doing. If he had been less independent, he might
+have crushed it down, and come to view it as a private fancy. He might
+have said to himself that it was plain that many human spirits did not
+feel that more delicate appeal, and that his duty was to meet other
+natures on some common ground.
+
+It is by such sacrifices of personal bias that much of the original
+force of the world is spoiled and wasted. It may be a noble sacrifice,
+and it is often nobly made. But Hugh was not cast in that mould. His
+effectiveness was to lie in the fact that he could disregard many
+ordinary motives. He could frankly admire other methods of work, and yet
+be quite sure that his own powers did not lie in that direction. But
+though he was modest and not at all self-assertive, he never had the
+least submissiveness nor subservience; nor was he capable of making any
+pretences.
+
+Sometimes it seems to happen that men are punished for wilfulness of
+choice by missing great opportunities. A nature which cannot compromise
+anything, cannot ignore details, cannot work with others, is sometimes
+condemned to a fruitless isolation. But it would be wrong to disregard
+the fact that circumstances more than once came to Hugh's aid; I see
+very clearly how he was, so to speak, headed off, as by some Fatherly
+purpose, from wasting his life in ineffectual ways. Probably he might
+have worked on at the Eton Mission, might have lost heart and vigour,
+might never have discovered his real powers, if he had not been rescued.
+His illness at this juncture cut the knot for him; and then followed a
+time of travel in Egypt, in the Holy Land, which revived again his sense
+of beauty and width and proportion.
+
+And then followed his Kemsing curacy; I have a letter written to me from
+Kemsing in his first weeks there, in which he describes it as a paradise
+and says that, so far as he can see, it is exactly the life he most
+desires, and that he hopes to spend the rest of his days there.
+
+But now I feel that he took a very real step forward. The danger was
+that he would adopt a dilettante life. He had still not discovered his
+powers of expression, which developed late. He was only just beginning
+to preach with effect, and his literary power was practically
+undeveloped. He might have chosen to live a harmless, quiet,
+beauty-loving life, kindly and guileless, in a sort of religious
+aestheticism; though the vivid desire for movement and even excitement
+that characterised his later life would perhaps have in any case
+developed.
+
+But something stronger and sterner awoke in him. I believe that it was
+exactly because the cup, mixed to his taste, was handed to him that he
+was able to see that there was nothing that was invigorating about the
+potion. It was not the community life primarily which drew him to
+Mirfield; it was partly that his power of speech awoke, and more
+strongly still the idea of self-discipline.
+
+And so he went to Mirfield, and then all his powers came with a rush in
+that studious, sympathetic, and ascetic atmosphere. He was in his
+twenty-eighth year. He began by finding that he could preach with real
+force and power, and two years later, when he wrote _The Light
+Invisible_, he also discovered his gift of writing; while as a little
+recreation, he took up drawing, and produced a series of sketches, full
+of humour and delicacy, drawn with a fine pen and tinted with coloured
+chalk, which are at all events enough to show what he could have done in
+this direction.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+ATTAINMENT
+
+
+And then Hugh made the great change of his life, and, as a Catholic,
+found his dreams realized and his hopes fulfilled. He found, indeed, the
+life which moves and breathes inside of every faithful creed, the power
+which supplements weakness and represses distraction, the motive for
+glad sacrifice and happy obedience. I can say this thankfully enough,
+though in many ways I confess to being at the opposite pole of religious
+thought. He found relief from decision and rest from conflict. He found
+sympathy and confidence, a sense of corporate union, and above all a
+mystical and symbolical devotion embodied in a great and ancient
+tradition, which was visibly and audibly there with a movement like a
+great tide, instead of a scheme of worship which had, he thought, in
+the Anglican Church, to be eclectically constructed by a group or a
+circle. Every part of his nature was fed and satisfied; and then, too,
+he found in the Roman Catholic community in England that sort of eager
+freemasonry which comes of the desire to champion a cause that has won a
+place for itself, and influence and respect, but which is yet so much
+opposed to national tendencies as to quicken the sense of active
+endeavour and eager expectation.
+
+After his quiet period of study and thought in Rome and at Llandaff
+House, came the time when he was attached to the Roman Catholic Church
+in Cambridge; and this, though not congenial to him, gave him an insight
+into methods and conditions; and all the while his own forces and
+qualities were learning how to concentrate and express themselves. He
+learned to write, he learned to teach, to preach, to speak, to be his
+own natural self, with all his delicate and ingenuous charm, in the
+presence of a great audience; so that when at last his opportunity came
+to free himself from official and formal work, he was able to throw all
+his trained faculties into the work which he had at heart. Moreover, he
+found in direction and confession, and in careful discussion with
+inquirers, and in sympathetic aid given to those in trouble, many of the
+secret sorrows, hopes, and emotions of the human heart, so that his
+public work was enforced and sustained by his ever-increasing range of
+private experience.
+
+He never, however, took whole-heartedly to pastoral work. He said
+frankly that he "specialised" in the region of private direction and
+advice; but I doubt if he ever did quite enough general pastoral work of
+a commonplace and humdrum kind to supplement and fill out his experience
+of human nature. He never knew people under quite normal conditions,
+because he felt no interest in normal conditions. He knew men and women
+best under the more abnormal emotion of the confessional; and though he
+used to maintain, if challenged, that penitence was a normal condition,
+yet his judgment of human beings was, as a consequence, several times
+gravely at fault. He made some unwise friendships, with a guileless
+curiosity, and was obliged, more than once, to extricate himself by
+summary abandonments.
+
+He wrote of himself once, "I am tired to death of giving myself away,
+and finding out too late.... I don't like my tendency to agree with
+people wildly; my continual fault has been to put on too much fuel."
+Like all sensitive people, who desire sympathetic and friendly
+relations, he was apt to discover the best of new acquaintances at once,
+and to evoke in them a similarly genial response. It was not till later,
+when the first conciliatory impulse had died down, that he discovered
+the faults that had been instinctively concealed, and indeed repressed
+by his own personal attractiveness.
+
+He had, too, an excessive confidence in his power of managing a critical
+situation, and several times undertook to reform people in whom
+corruption had gone too far for remedy. He believed in his power of
+"breaking" sinners by stern declarations; but he had more than once to
+confess himself beaten, though he never wasted time in deploring
+failures.
+
+Mr. Meynell, in his subtle essay which prefaces my brother's little book
+of poems, speaks of the complete subjugation of his will. If I may
+venture to express a different view, I do not feel that Hugh ever
+learned to efface his own will. I do not think his temperament, was made
+on the lines of self-conquest. I should rather say that he had found the
+exact _milieu_ in which he could use his will to the best effect, so
+that it was like the charge of powder within the gun, no longer
+exploding itself vaguely and aimlessly, but all concentrated upon one
+intense and emissive effort. Because the one characteristic of the last
+years of his life was his immense enjoyment of it all. He wrote to a
+friend not long before the end, when he was feeling the strain upon him
+to be heavier than he could bear; after a word or two about the war--he
+had volunteered to go to the front as a chaplain--he said, "So I am
+staying here as usual; but the incessant demands on my time try me as
+much as shrapnel and bullets." That sentence seems to me to confirm my
+view that he had not so much sacrificed as devoted himself. He never
+gained a serene patience; I have heard him over and over again speak
+with a sigh of his correspondence and the demands it made on him; yet he
+was always faithful to a relation once formed; and the number of letters
+written to single correspondents, which have been sent me, have fairly
+amazed me by their range, their freshness, and their fulness. He was
+deeply interested in many of the letters he received, and gave his best
+in his prompt replies; but he evidently also received an immense number
+of letters from people who did not desire guidance so much as sympathy
+and communication. The inconsiderate egotism of unimaginative and yet
+sensitive people is what creates the burden of such a correspondence;
+and though he answered his letters faithfully and duly, and contrived
+to say much in short space, yet he felt, as I have heard him say, that
+people were merciless; and much of the time he might have devoted to
+creative work, or even to recreation, was consumed in fruitless toil of
+hand and mind. And yet I am sure that he valued the sense that he could
+be useful and serviceable, and that there were many who depended upon
+him for advice and consolation. I believe that his widespread relations
+with so many desirous people gave him a real sense of the fulness and
+richness of life; and its relations. But for all that, I also believe
+that his courtesy and his sense of duty were even more potent in these
+relations than the need of personal affection. I do not mean that there
+was any hardness or coldness about him; but he valued sympathy and
+tranquil friendship more than he pursued intimacy and passionate
+devotion. Yet in the last year or two of his life, I was both struck and
+touched by his evident desire to knit up friendships which had been
+severed, and to renew intercourse which had been suspended by his change
+of belief. Whether he had any feeling that his life was precarious, or
+his own time short, I do not know. He never said as much to me. He had,
+of course, used hard words of the Church which he had left, and had said
+things which were not wholly impersonal. But, combative though he was,
+he had no touch of rancour or malice in his nature, and he visibly
+rejoiced in any sign of goodwill.
+
+Yet even so, he was essentially solitary in mind. "When I am alone," he
+once wrote, "I am at my best; and at my worst in company. I am happy and
+capable in loneliness; unhappy, distracted, and ineffective in company."
+And again he wrote, "I am becoming more and more afraid of meeting
+people I want to meet, because my numerous deficiencies are so very
+apparent. For example, I stammer slightly always and badly at times."
+
+This was, I believe, more an instinctive shrinking from the expenditure
+of nervous force than anything else, and arose from the feeling that, if
+he had to meet strangers, some brilliancy of contribution would be
+expected of him. I remember how he delighted in the story of Marie
+Bashkirtseff, who, when she was summoned to meet a party of strangers
+who desired to see her, prayed as she entered the room, "Oh God, make me
+worth seeing!" Hugh disliked the possibility of disappointing
+expectations, and thus found the society of unfamiliar people a strain;
+but in family life, and with people whom he knew well, he was always the
+most delightful and charming of companions, quick, ready, and untiring
+in talk. And therefore I imagine that, like all artistic people, he
+found that the pursuit of some chosen train of thought was less of a
+conscious effort to him than the necessity of adapting himself, swiftly
+and dexterously, to new people, whose mental and spiritual atmosphere he
+was obliged to observe and infer. It was all really a sign of the high
+pressure at which he lived, and of the price he paid for his vividness
+and animation.
+
+Another source of happiness to him in these last days was his sense of
+power. This was a part of his artistic nature; and I believe that he
+enjoyed to the full the feeling of being able to give people what they
+wanted, to enchant, interest, move, and sway them. This is to some
+natures a great temptation, because they come to desire applause, and to
+hunger for tangible signs of their influence. But Hugh was marvellously
+saved from this, partly by a real modesty which was not only never
+marred, but which I used to think increased with the years. There is a
+story of William Morris, that he could read aloud his own poetry, and at
+the end of a fine stanza would say: "That's jolly!" with an entire
+freedom from conceit, just as dispassionately as he could praise the
+work of another. I used to feel that when Hugh mentioned, as I have
+heard him do, some course of sermons that he was giving, and described
+the queue which formed in the street, and the aisles and gangways
+crowded with people standing to hear him, that he did so more
+impersonally than anyone I had ever heard, as though it were a
+delightful adventure, and more a piece of good luck than a testimony to
+his own powers.
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1912. AGED 40]
+
+It was the same with his books; he wished them to succeed and enjoyed
+their success, while it was an infinite delight to him to write them.
+But he had no egotism of a commonplace sort about him, and he never
+consciously tried to succeed. Success was just the reverberating echo of
+his own delight.
+
+And thus I do not look upon him as one who had bent and curbed his
+nature by stern self-discipline to do work of a heavy and distasteful
+kind; nor do I think that his dangerous devotion to work was the fierce
+effort of a man who would have wished to rest, yet felt that the time
+was too short for all that he desired to do. I think it was rather the
+far more fruitful energy of one who exulted in expressing himself, in
+giving a brilliant and attractive shape to his ideas, and who loved,
+too, the varieties and tendencies of human nature, enjoyed moulding and
+directing them, and flung himself with an intense joy of creation into
+all the work which he found ready to his hand.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+TEMPERAMENT
+
+
+Hugh never seemed to me to treat life in the spirit of a mystic or a
+dreamer, with unshared and secret experiences, withdrawing into his own
+ecstasy, half afraid of life, rapt away into interior visions. Though he
+had a deep curiosity about mystical experiences, he was never a mystic
+in the sense that he had, as great mystics seem to have had, one shell
+less, so to speak, between him and the unseen. He lived in the visible
+and tangible world, loving beautiful secrets; and he was a mystic only
+in the sense that he had an hourly and daily sense of the presence of
+God. He wished to share his dreams and to make known his visions, to
+declare the glory of God and to show His handiwork. He found the world
+more and more interesting, as he came to know it, and in the light of
+the warm welcome it gave him. He had a keen and delicate apprehension of
+spiritual beauty, and the Mass became to him a consummation of all that
+he held most holy and dear. He had recognised a mystical presence in the
+Church of England, but he found a supernatural presence in the Church of
+Rome; yet he had, too, the instinct of the poet, to translate into form
+and substance his inmost and sweetest joy, and to lavish it upon others.
+No one dares to speak of great poets and seers as men who have profaned
+a mystery by making it known. The deeper that the poet's sense of beauty
+is, the more does he thirst to communicate it. It is far too divine and
+tremendous to be secretly and selfishly enjoyed.
+
+It is possible, of course, that Hugh may have given to those who did not
+see him constantly in everyday familiar intercourse, the sense of a
+courteous patience and a desire to do full justice to a claim. Still
+more may he have given this impression on social occasions and at
+conventional gatherings. Interviews and so-called festivities were apt
+to be a weariness to him, because they seemed so great an expenditure of
+time and force for very scanty results; but I always felt him to be one
+of the most naturally courteous people I have ever seen. He hated to be
+abrupt, to repel, to hurt, to wound feelings, to disappoint; yet on such
+occasions his natural courtesy was struggling with a sense of the waste
+of time involved and the interruptions caused. I remember his writing to
+me from the Catholic rectory when he was trying to finish a book and to
+prepare for a course of sermons, and lamenting that he was "driven
+almost mad" by ceaseless interviews with people who did not, he
+declared, want criticism or advice, but simply the luxury of telling a
+long story for the sake of possible adulation. "I am quite ready to see
+people," he added, "if only they would ask me to appoint a time, instead
+of simply flinging themselves upon me whenever it happens to be
+convenient to them."
+
+I do not think he ever grudged the time to people in difficulties when
+he felt he could really help and save. That seemed to him an opportunity
+of using all his powers; and when he took a soul in hand, he could
+display a certain sternness, and even ruthlessness, in dealing with it.
+"You need not consult me at all, but if you do you must carry out
+exactly what I tell you," he could say; but he did grudge time and
+attention given to mild sentimentalists, who were not making any way,
+but simply dallying with tragic emotions excitedly and vainly.
+
+This courtesy was part of a larger quality, a certain knightly and
+chivalrous sense, which is best summed up in the old word "gentleman." A
+priest told me that soon after Hugh's death he had to rebuke a tipsy
+Irishman, who was an ardent Catholic and greatly devoted to Hugh. The
+priest said, "Are you not ashamed to think that Monsignor's eye may be
+on you now, and that he may see how you disgrace yourself?" To which,
+he said, the Irishman replied, with perhaps a keener insight into Hugh's
+character than his director, "Oh no, I can trust Monsignor not to take
+advantage of me. I am sure that he will not come prying and spying
+about. He always believed whatever I chose to tell him, God bless him!"
+Hugh could be hard and unyielding on occasions, but he was wholly
+incapable of being suspicious, jealous, malicious, or spiteful. He made
+friends once with a man of morbid, irritable, and resentful tendencies,
+who had continued, all his life, to make friends by his brilliance and
+to lose them by his sharp, fierce, and contemptuous animosities. This
+man eventually broke with him altogether, and did his best by a series
+of ingenious and wicked letters to damage Hugh's character in all
+directions. I received one of those documents and showed it to Hugh. I
+was astonished at his courage and even indifference. I myself should
+have been anxious and despondent at the thought of such evil innuendoes
+and gross misrepresentations being circulated, and still more at the
+sort of malignant hatred from which they proceeded. Hugh took the letter
+and smiled. "Oh," he said, "I have put my case before the people who
+matter, and you can't do anything. He is certainly mad, or on the verge
+of madness. Don't answer it--you will only be drenched with these
+communications. I don't trouble my head about it." "But don't you mind?"
+I said. "No," he said, "I'm quite callous! Of course I am sorry that he
+should be such a beast, but I can't help that. I have done my best to
+make it up--but it is hopeless." And it was clear from the way he
+changed the subject that he had banished the whole matter from his mind.
+At a later date, when the letters to him grew more abusive, I was told
+by one who was living with him, that he would even put one up on his
+chimney-piece and point it out to visitors.
+
+I always thought that he had a very conspicuous and high sort of
+courage, not only in facing disagreeable and painful things, but in not
+dwelling on them either before or after. This was never more entirely
+exemplified than by the way he faced his operation, and indeed, most
+heroically of all, in the way in which he died. There was a sense of
+great adventure--there is no other word for it--about that, as of a man
+going on a fateful voyage; a courage so great that he did not even lose
+his interest in the last experiences of life. His demeanour was not
+subdued or submissive; he did not seem to be asking for strength to bear
+or courage to face the last change. He was more like the happy warrior
+
+                                   "Attired
+    With sudden brightness, as a man inspired."
+
+[Illustration: ROBERT HUGH BENSON
+
+IN 1912. AGED 41]
+
+He did not lose control of himself, nor was he carried helplessly down
+the stream. He was rather engaged in a conflict which was not a losing
+one. He had often thought of death, and even thought that he feared it;
+but now that it was upon him he would taste it fully, he would see what
+it was like. The day before, when he thought that he might live, there
+was a pre-occupation over him, as though he were revolving the things he
+desired to do; but when death came upon him unmistakably there was no
+touch of self-pity or impressiveness. He had just to die, and he devoted
+his swift energies to it, as he had done to living. I never saw him so
+splendid and noble as he was at that last awful moment. Life did not ebb
+away, but he seemed to fling it from him, so that it was not as the
+death of a weary man sinking to rest, but like the eager transit of a
+soldier to another part of the field.
+
+"Could it have been avoided?" I said to the kind and gentle doctor who
+saw Hugh through the last days of his life, and loved him very tenderly
+and faithfully. "Well, in one sense, 'yes,'" he replied. "If he had
+worked less, rested more, taken things more easily, he might have lived
+longer. He had a great vitality; but most people die of being
+themselves; and we must all live as we are made to live. It was
+Monsignor's way to put the work of a month into a week; he could not do
+otherwise--I cannot think of Monsignor as sitting with folded hands."
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+Barnes, Monsignor, 154
+
+Bashkirtseff, Marie, quoted, 249
+
+Bec, Bishop Anthony, 18
+
+Belloc, Mr., 183
+
+Benson, Archbishop (father), 15-17, 20, 46-47, 56, 63, 82, 86, 91, 116;
+  characteristics, 34-39;
+  letters quoted, 53-55, 71-74;
+  ordains his son, 87;
+  death, 97
+
+---- Mrs. (mother), 19, 28, 74-80, 108, 120, 128, 146, 149-150, 182, 209;
+  quoted, 31-32, 118-119, 227;
+  visit to Egypt, 98
+
+---- Fred (brother), 16, 26-27, 34, 68, 80, 184, 209
+
+---- Maggie (sister), 16, 28, 40, 98, 120, 126, 184, 196, 217
+
+---- Martin (brother), 16, 57;
+  death, 35
+
+---- Nelly (sister), 16, 27, 40;
+  death, 79-80
+
+Beth (nurse), 20-24, 39, 106;
+  letter quoted, 23
+
+Bradley, Dr., 200, 201;
+  quoted, 260-261
+
+_By What Authority_, 114
+
+
+Carlyle, Thomas, quoted, 147
+
+Carter, Archbishop William, 91
+
+_Confessions of a Convert, The_, 47, 114, 130, 140
+
+_Conventionalists, The_, 186
+
+Cornish, Mr., 42
+
+_Coward, The_, 181
+
+
+Decemviri _Club_, 156
+
+Donaldson, Archbishop St. Clair, 91, 95
+
+
+Edward VII; King, 114
+
+Elizabeth, Queen, 179
+
+Eton, influence of, 48-51
+
+---- Mission, 89 seq., 99, 134-136, 236, 238
+
+
+George V, H. M. King, 98
+
+Gladstone, W. E., 98
+
+---- Mrs., 98
+
+Gore, Bishop, 103, 108-109, 130
+
+Gorman, Father, 194
+
+
+Halifax, Lord, 128
+
+Hare Street, 168 seq., 189, 193, 210, 227;
+  village, 12
+
+_Hill of Trouble, The_, 177
+
+Hogg, Sir James McGarel (afterwards Lord Magheramorne), 32
+
+Hormead Mission, 168
+
+Hornby, Provost, 149
+
+House of the Resurrection. _See_ under Mirfield Community
+
+
+Job, quoted, 49
+
+John Inglesant, 75, 85
+
+Johnson, Dr., quoted, 150, 175
+
+Jowett, B., 150
+
+
+Kenmare, Lord, 172
+
+
+Leith, Dr., 67
+
+_Light Invisible, The_, 106, 177, 187, 240
+
+Lindsay, Ken, 168-169
+
+Lyttelton, Edward, 44
+
+
+Maclagan, Archbishop, 103
+
+Marshall (family), 190
+
+Martin, Sir George, 58
+
+Mason, Canon Arthur, 34, 80, 88
+
+Maturin, Father, 96, 100
+
+Meynell, Mr., 245
+
+Mirfield Community, 103-104, 130, 137, 227, 239
+
+Morris, William, 250
+
+Murray, Prof., 199
+
+
+Norway, King of, 98
+
+
+Parsons, Rev. Mr., 16
+
+Peel, Sidney, 50
+
+Penny, Mr., 19
+
+Persia, Shah of, 55
+
+Pippet, Gabriel, 13, 168
+
+Pitt Club, 156
+
+Potter, Norman, 171
+
+
+Reeman, Joseph, 14, 193
+
+Reeve, Rev. John, 34, 128
+
+_Richard Raynal, Solitary_, 178, 181, 185, 187
+
+Ritual, 60-63
+
+Roddy, _collie_, 126-128, 217
+
+
+St. Hugh, 17
+
+---- Monastery of, 129
+
+Salford Cathedral, 209
+
+Scott, Canon, 161
+
+Selborne, Lord, quoted, 54
+
+Sessions, Dr., 168
+
+Sharrock, Canon, 173, 196, 199, 205, 207
+
+Sidgwick, Arthur, 20
+
+---- Henry (uncle), 20, 71, 73, 223
+
+---- Mrs. (grandmother), 20
+
+---- Nora (Mrs. Henry Sidgwick) (aunt), 73, 121
+
+---- William (uncle), 20
+
+Skarratt, Rev. Mr., 101
+
+Spiers, Mr., 54-55
+
+Stanmore, Lord, 95
+
+Stevenson, R. L., 121
+
+_Streets and Lanes of the City_, 79
+
+
+Tait, Miss Lucy, 120
+
+Temple, Archbishop, 103
+
+Tennyson's "Mort d'Arthur," 179
+
+Todd, Dr., Ross, 193
+
+Tyrell, Father, 144
+
+
+Vaughn, Dean, 81-84
+
+Vaughn, Mrs., 83-85
+
+Victoria, Queen, 114, 153
+
+
+Wales, Prince and Princess of, 54
+
+Walpole, Bishop G. H. S., 34
+
+Warre, Dr., 46
+
+Watson, Bishop, 154
+
+Watt, Father, 168
+
+Wellington College, 15, 19, 20
+
+Westcott, Bishop, 86
+
+Westminster, Cardinal Archbishop of, 209
+
+Whitaker, Canon G. H., 34
+
+Wilkinson, Bishop, 48, 128, 150
+
+Woodchester Dominican Convent, 146
+
+Wordsworth, Bishop John, 128
+
+Wren, Mr., 52
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUGH***
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