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(Alec John) Dawson</title> + <style type="text/css" title="Amaya theme"> +/* Modern style for Amaya Editor Lite */ + +/* default rules for the whole document */ +body { + font-size: 12pt; + font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + color: black; + background-color: white; + line-height: 1.2em; + margin-left: 4em; + margin-right: 2em; + } + +/* paragraphs */ +p { + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + text-align: left; + } + +/* headings */ +h1 { + font-size: 180%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: small-caps; + text-align: left; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1.7em; + margin-bottom: 1.7em; + } +h1.pg { + font-size: 190%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-align: center; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + line-height: 1em; + } +h2 { + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1.5em; + margin-bottom: 1.1em; + } +h3 { + font-size: 130%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1.3em; + margin-bottom: 1.1em; + } +h4 { + font-size: 110%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1.1em; + margin-bottom: 1.1em; + } +h4.pg { + font-size: 90%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: normal; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + text-align: center; + } +h5 { + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } +h6 { + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: italic; + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + +/* divisions */ +div { + padding: 0; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + } + +/* lists */ +ul, ol { + padding: 0 0 0 3em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } +ul ul, ol ol, ul ol, ol ul { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } +li { + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + text-align: left; + } +li p { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } +dl { + padding: 0; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: 1em; + } +dl dl { + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + } +dt { + padding: 0; + font-weight: bold; + margin-top: .3em; + margin-bottom: .3em; + } +dd { + padding: 0; + margin-top: .3em; + margin-left: 3em; + margin-bottom: .3em; + } +dl p { + margin-top: .3em; + margin-bottom: .3em; + } + +/* inline */ +strong { + font-weight: bold; + } +em { + font-style: italic; + } +code { + font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; + } +ins { + background-color: yellow; + text-decoration: underline; + } +del { + text-decoration: line-through; + } + +/* anchors */ +a[href] { + color: blue; + text-decoration: underline; + } + + div.pg { font-family: Times-roman,serif; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 85%; } + +/* end */ + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div class="pg"> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Record of Nicholas Freydon, by A. J. +(Alec John) Dawson</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: The Record of Nicholas Freydon</p> +<p> An Autobiography</p> +<p>Author: A. J. (Alec John) Dawson</p> +<p>Release Date: December 18, 2009 [eBook #30704]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECORD OF NICHOLAS FREYDON***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4 class="pg">E-text prepared by Clare Graham<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/recordofnicholas00daws"> + http://www.archive.org/details/recordofnicholas00daws</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE RECORD OF NICHOLAS FREYDON</h1> + +<h2>AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h2> + +<p></p> + +<p>[A novel by Alec John Dawson]</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>This etext prepared from the first edition published in 1914 by Constable +and Company Ltd, London.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3></h3> +<p> </p> + +<h3>EDITOR'S PREFATORY NOTE</h3> + +<p></p> + +<p>It would ill become any writer to adopt an apologetic tone in introducing +the work of another pen than his own, and indeed I have no thought of +<em>apologia</em> where Nicholas Freydon's writing is concerned. On the +contrary, it is out of respect for my friend's quality as a writer that I am +moved to a word of explanation here. It is this: there are circumstances, +sufficiently indicated I think in the text of the book and my own footnote +thereto, which tended to prevent my performance of those offices for my +friend's work which are usually expected of one who is said to edit. It would +be more fitting, I suppose, if a phrase were borrowed from the theatrical +world, and this record of a man's life were said to be 'presented' rather than +'edited,' by me. I am advised to accept the editorial title in this connection, +but it is the truth that the book has not been edited at all, in the ordinary +acceptance of the term. A few purely verbal emendations have been made in it, +but Nicholas Freydon's last piece of writing has never been revised, nor even +arranged in deference to accepted canons of book-making. It is given here as it +left the author's pen, designed, not for your eye or mine, but for that of its +writer, to be weighed and considered by him. But that weighing and +consideration it has not received.</p> + +<p>So much I feel it incumbent upon me to say, as the avowed sponsor for the +book, in order that praise and blame may be rightly apportioned. Touching the +inherent value of this document, nothing whatever is due to me. Any criticism +of its arrangement, or lack of arrangement, to be just, should be levelled at +myself alone.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#INTRODUCTO">INTRODUCTORY</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#CHILDHOOD-">CHILDHOOD--ENGLAND</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#BOYHOOD--A">BOYHOOD--AUSTRALIA</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#YOUTH--AUS">YOUTH--AUSTRALIA</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#MANHOOD--E">MANHOOD--ENGLAND: FIRST PERIOD</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#MANHOOD--E1">MANHOOD--ENGLAND: SECOND PERIOD</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#LAST">THE LAST STAGE</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p><a href="#EDITOR">EDITOR'S NOTE</a></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h2>THE RECORD OF NICHOLAS FREYDON</h2> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="INTRODUCTO" id="INTRODUCTO">INTRODUCTORY</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Back there in London--how many leagues and aeons distant!--I threw down my +pen and fled here to the ends of the earth, in pursuit of rest and +self-comprehending peace of mind. Here I now take up the pen again and return +in thought to London: that vast cockpit; still in pursuit of rest and +self-comprehending peace of mind.</p> + +<p>That seems wasteful and not very hopeful. But, to be honest--and if this +final piece of pen-work be not honest to its core, it certainly will prove the +very acme of futility--I must add the expression of opinion that most of the +important actions of my life till now have had the self-same goal in view: +peace of mind. The surprising thing is that, right up to this present, every +one of my efforts has been backed by a substantial if varying amount of solid +conviction; of belief that that particular action would bring the long-sought +reward. I suppose I thought this in coming here, in fleeing from London. Nay, I +know I did.</p> + +<p>The latest, and I suppose the last, illusion bids me believe that if, using +the literary habit of a lifetime, I can set down in ordered sequence the +salient facts and events of that restless, struggling pilgrimage I call my +life, there is a likelihood that, seeing the entire fabric in one piece, I may +be able truly to understand it, and, understanding it, to rest content before +it ends. The ironical habit makes me call it an illusion. In strict truth I +listen to the call with some confidence; not, to be sure, with the flaming +ardour which in bygone years has set me leaping into action in answer to such a +call; yet with real hope.</p> + +<p>It is none so easy a task, this exact charting out of so complex a matter as +a man's life. And it may be that long practice of the writer's art but serves +to heighten its difficulties. For example, since writing the sentence ending on +that word 'hope,' I have covered two whole pages with writing which has now +been converted into ashes among the logs upon my hearth. For the covering of +those pages two volumes had been fingered and referred to, if you please, and +my faulty memory drawn upon for yet a third quotation. So much for the habit of +literary allusiveness, engrained into one by years of book-making, and yet more +surely, I suspect, by labour for hire on the newspaper press.</p> + +<p>But, though I have detected and removed these two pages of irrelevance, I +foresee that unessential and therefore obscurantic matter will creep in. Well, +when I come to weigh the completed record, I must allow for that; and, +meanwhile, so far as time and my own limitations as selector permit, I will +prune and clear away from the line of vision these weeds of errant fancy. For +the record must of all things be honest and comprehensive; rather than shapely, +effective, or literary. To be sure the pundits would say that this is to misuse +and play with words; to perpetrate a contradiction in terms. Well, we shall +see. Whatever the critics might say, your author by profession would understand +me well enough when I say: 'Honest, rather than literary.'</p> + +<p>How, to begin with, may I label and describe my present self? There, +immediately, I am faced with one of the difficulties of this task. One can say +of most men that they are this or that; of this class, order, sect, party, or +type; and, behold them neatly docketed! But in all honesty I cannot say that I +am of any special class, or that I 'belong' anywhere in particular. There is no +circle in any community which is indefeasibly my own by right of birth and +training. I am still a member of two London clubs, I believe. They were never +more than hotels for me. I am probably what most folk call a gentleman; but how +much does that signify in the twentieth century? Many simple people would +likely call me a person of education, even of learning, belike, seeing a list +of books under my name. A schoolman who examined me would be pardoned (by me, +at all events) for calling me an ignoramus of no education whatever. For--and +this I never reflected upon until the present moment--I could not for the life +of me 'analyse' the simplest sentence, in the rather odd scholastic sense of +that word. Inherited instinct and long practice make me aware, I believe, of an +error in syntax, when I chance upon one. But I could only tell you that it was +wrong, and never how or why. I know something of literature, but less of +mathematics than I assume to be known by the modern ten-year-old schoolboy; +something of three or four languages, but nothing of their grammar. I have met +and talked with some of the most notable people of my time, but truly prefer +cottage life before that of the greatest houses. And so, in a score of other +ways, I feel it difficult informingly and justly to label myself.</p> + +<p>But--let me have done with difficulties and definitions. My task shall be +the setting forth of facts, out of which definitions must shape themselves. +And, for a beginning, I must turn aside from my present self, pass by a number +of dead selves, each differing in a thousand ways from every other, and bring +my mind to bear for the moment upon that infinitely remote self: the child, +Nicholas Freydon. It may be that curious and distant infant will help to +explain the man.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3></h3> + +<h3><a name="CHILDHOOD-" id="CHILDHOOD-">CHILDHOOD--ENGLAND</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The things I remember about my earliest infancy are not in the least +romantic.</p> + +<p>First, I think, come two pictures, both perfectly distinct, and both +connected with domestic servants. The one is of a firelit interior, below +street level: an immense kitchen, with shining copper vessels in it, an +extremely hot and red fire, and a tall screen covered over with pictures. An +enormously large woman in a blue and white print gown sits toasting herself +before the fire; and a less immense female, in white print with sprays of pink +flowers on it, is devoting herself to me. This last was Amelia; a cheerful, +comely, buxom, and in the main kindly creature, as I remember her. In the +kitchen was a well-scrubbed table of about three-quarters of a mile in length, +and possessed of as many legs as a centipede, some of which could be moved to +support flaps. (To put a measuring-tape over that table nowadays, or over other +things in the kitchen, for that matter, might bring disappointment, I suppose.) +These legs formed fascinating walls and boundaries for a series of romantic +dwelling-places, shops, caves, and suchlike resorts, among which a small boy +could wander at will, when lucky enough to be allowed to visit this warm +apartment at all. The whole place was pervaded by an odour indescribably +pleasing to my infantile nostrils, and compact of suggestions of heat acting +upon clean print gowns, tea-cakes done to a turn, scrubbed wood, and hot +soap-suds.</p> + +<p>But the full ecstasy of a visit to this place was only attained when I was +lifted upon the vast table by the warm and rosy Amelia, and allowed to leap +therefrom into her extended arms; she rushing toward me, and both of us +emitting either shrill or growling noises as the psychological moment of my +leap was reached. At the time I used to think that springing from a trapeze, +set in the dome of a great building, into a net beneath, must be the most +ravishing of all joys; but I incline now to think that my more homely feat of +leaping into Amelia's warm arms was, upon the whole, probably a pleasanter +thing.</p> + +<p>This memory is of something which I believe happened fairly frequently. My +other most distinct recollection of what I imagine to have been the same period +in history is of a visit, a Sunday afternoon visit, I think, paid with Amelia. +I must have been of tender years, because, though during parts of the journey I +travelled on my own two feet, I recollect occasional lapses into a +perambulator, as it might be in the case of an elderly or invalid person who +walks awhile along a stretch of level sward, and then takes his ease for a time +in victoria or bath-chair.</p> + +<p>I remember Amelia lifting me out from my carriage in the doorway of what I +regarded as a very delightful small house, redolent of strange and exciting +odours, some of which I connect with the subsequent gift of a slab of stuff +that I ate with gusto as cake. My mature view is that it was cold bread-pudding +of a peculiarly villainous clamminess. It is interesting to note that my +delight in this fearsome dainty was based upon its most malevolent quality: the +chill consistency of the stuff, which made it resemble the kind of leathery +jelly that I have seen used to moisten the face of a rubber stamp withal.</p> + +<p>In this house--it was probably in a slum, certainly in a mean street--one +stepped direct from the pavement into a small kitchen, where an elderly man sat +smoking a long clay pipe. A covered stairway rose mysteriously from one side of +this apartment into the two bedrooms above. A door beside the stairway opened +into a tiny scullery, from which light was pretty thoroughly excluded by the +high, black wall which dripped and frowned no more than three feet away from +its window. I have little doubt that this scullery was a pestilent place. At +the time it appealed to my romantic sense as something rather attractive.</p> + +<p>The elderly man in the kitchen was Amelia's father. That in itself naturally +gave him distinction in my eyes. But, in addition, he was an old sailor, and, +with a knife which was attached to a white lanyard, he could carve delightful +boats (thoroughly seaworthy in a wash-hand basin) out of ordinary sticks of +firewood. It is to be noted, by the way, a thing I never thought of till this +moment, that these same sticks and bundles of firewood have a peculiarly +distinctive smell of their own. It is the smell of a certain kind of grocer's +shop whose proprietor, for some esoteric reason, calls himself an 'Italian +warehouse-man.' In later life I occasionally visited such a shop, between Fleet +Street and the river, when I had rooms in that locality.</p> + +<p>Boat-building figured largely in that visit to Amelia's parents. (The girl +had a mother; large, flaccid, and, on this occasion, partly dissolved in +tears.) But the episode immediately preceding our departure is what +overshadowed everything else for me that day, and for several subsequent +nights. Amelia and the tearful mother took me up the dark little stairway, and +introduced me to Death. They showed me Amelia's sister, Jinny, who died (of +consumption, I believe) on the day before our visit. I still can see the +alabaster white face, with its pronounced vein-markings; the straight, thin +form, outlined beneath a sheet, in that tiny, low-ceiled, airless garret. What +a picture to place before an infant on a sunny Sunday afternoon! It might be +supposed that I had asked to see it, for I remember Amelia saying, as one about +to give a child a treat:</p> + +<p>'Now, mind, Master Nicholas, you're to be a very good boy, and you're not to +say a word about it to any one.'</p> + +<p>But, no, I do not think I can have desired the experience, for to this day I +cherish a lively recollection of the agony of sick horror which swam over me +when, in obedience to instructions given, I suffered my lips to touch the +marble-like face of the dead girl.</p> + +<p>How strange is that unquestioning obedience of childhood! Recognition of it +might well give pause to careless instructors of youth. The kiss meant torture +to me, in anticipation and in fact. But I was bidden, and never dreamed of +refusing to obey. No doubt, there was also at work in me some dim sort of +infantile delicacy. This was an occasion upon which a gentleman could have no +choice....</p> + +<p>Ah, well, I believe Amelia was a dear good soul, and I am sure I hope she +married well, and lived happily ever after. I have no recollection whatever of +how or when she drifted out of my life. But the visit to Jinny's deathbed, and +the exciting leaps from the immeasurably long kitchen table into Amelia's +print-clad arms, are things which stand out rather more clearly in my +recollection than many of the events of, say, twenty years later.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>How is it that my earliest recollections should centre about folk no nearer +or dearer to me than domestic servants? I know that my mother died within three +months of my birth. There had to be, and was, another woman in my life before +Amelia; but I have no memories of her. She was an aunt, an unmarried sister of +my mother's; but I believe my father quarrelled with her before I began to +'take notice' very much; and then came Amelia.</p> + +<p>The large underground kitchen really was fairly big. I had a look at it no +more than a dozen years ago. The house, too, was and is a not unpleasing one, +situated within a stone's throw of Russell Square, Bloomsbury. Its spaces are +ample, its fittings solidly good, and its area less subterranean than many. +Near by is a select livery stable and mews of sub-rural aspect, with Virginia +creeper climbing over a horse's head in stucco. Amelia shared with me a night +nursery and a nursery-living room in this house, the latter overlooking the +mews, through the curving iron rails of a tiny balcony. Below us my father +occupied a small bedroom and a large sitting-room, the latter being the 'first +floor front.'</p> + +<p>At this time, and indeed during all the period of my first English +memories--say, eight years--my father was engaged in journalistic work. I know +now that he had been called to the bar, a member of Lincoln's Inn; but I do not +know that he ever had a brief. He gave some years, I believe, to coaching and +tutoring. I remember seeing, later in my boyhood, a tattered yellow prospectus +which showed that he once delivered certain lectures on such subjects as +'Mediaeval English Poetry.' In my time I gather that my father called no man +master or employer, but was rather the slave of a number of autocrats in Fleet +Street. 'The office,' as between Amelia and myself, may have meant all Fleet +Street. But my impression now is that it meant the building then occupied by +the ----. (Here figures the name of one of London's oldest morning +newspapers.--Ed.) And, it may be, the ---- Club; for I have reason to believe +that my father did much of his work at his club. I have even talked there with +one member at least who recollected this fact.</p> + +<p>But the memory of my father as he was in this early period is curiously +vague. It would seem that he produced no very clear impression on my mind then. +Our meetings were not very frequent, I think. As I chiefly recall them, they +occurred in the wide but rather dark entrance hall, and were accompanied by +conversation confined to Amelia and my father. At such times he would be +engaged in polishing his hat, sometimes with a velvet pad, and sometimes on his +coat-sleeve. I used to hear from him remarks like these:</p> + +<p>'Well, keep him out of doors as much as possible, so long as it doesn't +rain. Eh? Oh, well, you'd better buy another. How much will it be? I will send +up word if I am back before the boy's bed-time.'</p> + +<p>And then he might turn to me, after putting on his hat, and absently pull +one of my ears, or stroke my nose or forehead. His hands were very slender, +warm, and pleasantly odorous of soap and tobacco. 'Be a good man,' he would +say. And there the interview ended. He never said: 'Be a good child'; always 'a +good man'; and sometimes he would repeat it, in a gravely preoccupied way.</p> + +<p>Once, and, so far as I remember, only once, we met him out-of-doors; in the +park, it was, and he took us both to the Zoological Gardens, and gave us tea +there. (Yellowish cake with white sugar icing over it has ever since suggested +to me the pungent smell of monkey-houses and lions' cages.) The meeting was +purely accidental, I believe.</p> + +<p>It must have been in about my ninth year, I fancy, that I began really to +know something of my father, as a man, rather than as a sort of supernatural, +hat-polishing, He-who-must-be-obeyed. We had a small house of our own then, in +Putney; and the occasion of our first coming together as fellow-humans was a +shared walk across Wimbledon Common, and into Richmond Park by the Robin Hood +Gate. The period was the 'sixties of last century, and I had just begun my +attendance each day at a local 'Academy for the Sons of Gentlemen.' To us, in +the Academy, my father descended as from Olympus, while the afternoon was yet +young, and carried me off before the envious eyes of my fellow sufferers and +what I felt to be the grudging gaze of the usher, who had already twice since +dinner-time severely pulled my ears, because of some confusion that existed in +my mind between Alfred and his burnt cakes and Canute and his wet feet. (As I +understood it, Canute sat on the beach upon one of those minute camp-stools +which mothers and nurses used at the seaside before the luxurious era of +canopied hammock chairs.)</p> + +<p>In my devious childish fashion, I presently gathered that there had been +momentous doings in London town that day, and that in the upshot my father had +terminated his connection with the famous newspaper from which the bulk of his +earnings had been drawn for some years. For a little while I fancied this must +be almost as delightful for him as my own unexpected escape from the Academy +that afternoon had been for me. But, gradually, my embryo intelligence rejected +this theory, and I became possessed of a sense of grave happenings, almost, it +might be, of catastrophe. Quite certainly, my father had never before talked to +me as he did that summer afternoon in Richmond Park. His vein was, for him, +somewhat declamatory, and his unusual gestures impressed me hugely. It is +likely that at times he forgot my presence, or ceased, at all events, to +remember that his companion was his child. His massive, silver-headed malacca +cane did great execution among the bracken, I remember.</p> + +<p>(I had been rather pleased for my school-mates to have had an opportunity of +observing this stick, and had regretted the absence of my father's usual hat, +equal in refulgence to the cane. Evidently, he had called at the house and +changed his head-gear before walking up to the Academy, for he now wore the +soft black hat which he called his 'wideawake.')</p> + +<p>That he was occasionally conscious of me his monologue proved, for it +included such swift, jerky sentences as:</p> + +<p>'Remember that, my son. Have nothing to do with this accursed trade of +ink-spilling. Literary work! God save the mark!' (I wondered what particular +ink 'mark' this referred to.) 'The purse-proud wretches think they buy your +soul with their starveling cheques. Ten years' use of my brain; ten years +wasted in slavish pot-boiling for them; and then--then, this!'</p> + +<p>'This,' I imagine, was dismissal; accepted resignation, say. I gathered that +my father had been free to do his work where he chose; that he had used the +newspaper office only as a place in which to consult with his editor before +writing; and that now some new broom in the office was changing all that; that +my father had been bidden to attend a certain desk during stated hours to +perform routine work each day; that he had protested, refused, and closed his +connection with the journal, after a heated interview with some managerial +bashaw.</p> + +<p>In the light of all I now know, I apprehend that my father had just been +brought into contact with the first stirrings of those radical changes which +revolutionised the London world of literature and journalism during the last +three decades of the nineteenth century. The Board School had not quite +arrived, but the social revolution was at hand; and, there among the bracken in +Richmond Park, my father with his malacca cane was defying the tide--like my +friend of the camp-stool: Canute. Remembered phrases like: 'Underbred little +clerk!'; 'His place is the counting-house, and ---- [the editor] should have +known better than to leave us at the mercy of this impudent cad,' convince me +that my father's wrath was in great part directed less against an individual +than a social movement or tendency.</p> + +<p>Much that my father said that afternoon would probably have a ridiculous +seeming in this twentieth century. Compulsory education and the ęsthetic +movement, not to mention the Labour Party, Tory Democrats, and the Halfpenny +Press, were as yet undiscovered delights when my father talked to me in +Richmond Park. A young man of to-day, reading or listening to such words, would +almost certainly be misled by them regarding the character and position of the +speaker. My father was no scion of a noble house, but the only son of a decayed +merchant. His attitude of mind and disposition, however, were naturally +somewhat aristocratic, I think. Also, as I have said, our talk was in the +'sixties. He was sensitive, very proud, inclined, perhaps, to scornfulness, +certainly to fastidiousness, and one who seldom suffered fools either gladly or +with much show of tolerance. It was a somewhat unfortunate temperament, +probably, for a man situated as he was, possessed of no private means and +dependent entirely upon his earnings. In my mother, I believe he had married a +lady of somewhat higher social standing than his own, who never was reconciled +to the comparatively narrow and straitened circumstances of her brief +wifehood.</p> + +<p>'The people who have to do with newspapers are the serfs and the prostitutes +of literature. It was not always so, but I've felt it coming for some time now. +It is the growing dominion of the City, of commerce, of their boasted +democracy. The People's Will! Disgusting rubbish! How the deuce should these +office-bred hucksters know what is best? But, I tell you, my boy, that it is +they who are becoming the masters. There is no more room in journalism for a +gentleman; certainly not for literary men and people of culture. They think it +will pay them better to run their wretched sheets for the proletariat. We shall +see. Oh, I am better out of it, of course. I see that clearly; and I am +thankful to be clear of their drudgery.' (My listening mind brightened.) 'But +yet--there's your education to be thought of. Expenses are--And, of +course--H'm!' (Clouds shadowed my outlook once more.) 'This pitiful anxiety to +cling to the safety of a salary is humiliating--unworthy of one's manhood. Good +heavens! why was I born, not one of them, and yet dependent on the caprices of +such people?'</p> + +<p>It may be filial partiality, but something makes me feel genuinely sorry for +my father, as I look back upon that outpouring of his in Richmond Park. And +that was in the 'sixties. I wonder how the twentieth-century journalism would +have struck him. The later subtleties of unadmitted advertising, the headline, +the skittishly impressionistic descriptive masterpieces of 'our special +representative,' and the halfpenny newspapers, were all unthought-of boons, +then. And as for the advancing democracy of his prophecies, why, there were +quite real sumptuary laws of a sort still holding sway in the 'sixties, and +well on into the 'eighties, for that matter!</p> + +<p>We walked home from the Roehampton Gate, and in some respects I was no +longer quite a child when I climbed into bed that night.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In my eyes, at all events, there was a kind of a partnership between my +father and myself from this time onward. Before, there had been three groups in +my scheme of things: upon the one hand, Amelia (or her successor) and myself, +with, latterly, some of the people of the Putney Academy for the Sons of +Gentlemen; in another and quite separate compartment, my father; and, finally, +the rest of the world. Gradually, now, I came to see things rather in this +wise: upon the one hand, my father and myself, with, perhaps, a few other folk +as satellites; and, on the other hand, the rest of the world.</p> + +<p>And at this early stage I began to regard the world--every one outside our +own small camp--in an antagonistic light, as a hostile force, as the enemy. +Life was a battle in which the odds were fearfully uneven; for it was my father +and myself against the world. Needless to say, I did not put the matter to +myself in those words; but at this precise period I am well assured that I +acquired this attitude of mind. It dated from the admittance into partnership +with my father, which was signalised by the walk and talk among the bracken in +Richmond Park.</p> + +<p>I ought to say that I had always had a great admiration for my father. He +seemed to me clearly superior in a thousand ways to other men. But never before +the Richmond episode had there been personal sympathy, nor yet any loyal +feeling of fellowship, mingled with this admiration.</p> + +<p>I remember very distinctly the pride I felt in my father's personal +appearance. He was not a dandy, I think; but there was a certain quiet nicety +and delicacy about his dress and manner which impressed me greatly. The hair +about his ears and temples was silvery grey; one of the marks of his +superiority, in my eyes. He always raised his hat in leaving a shop in which a +woman served; his manner of accepting or tendering an apology among strangers +was very grand indeed. In saluting men in the street, he had a spacious way of +raising his malacca stick which, to this day, would charm me, were it possible +to see such a gesture in these rushing times. The photograph before me as I +write proves that my father was a handsome man, but it does not show the air of +distinction which I am assured was his. And, let me record here the fact that, +whatever might be thought of the wisdom or otherwise of his views or actions, I +never once knew him to be guilty of an act of vulgar discourtesy, nor of +anything remotely resembling meanness.</p> + +<p>In these days it is safe to say that the very poorest toiler's child has +more of schooling than I had, and, doubtless, a superior sort of schooling. I +spent rather less than a year and a half at the Putney Academy, and that was +the beginning and the end of my schooling. Before being introduced to the +Academy, I was a fairly keen reader; and that remained. At the Academy I was +obliged to write in a copy-book, and to commit to memory sundry valueless +dates. There may have been other acquisitions (irrespective of ear-tweakings +and various cuts from a vicious little cane), but I have no recollection of +them; and, to this day, the simplest exercises of everyday figuring baffle me +the moment I take a pencil in my hand. If I cannot arrive at solution 'in my +head' I am done, and many a minor monetary loss have I suffered in +consequence.</p> + +<p>I trust I am justified in believing that to-day there are no such schools +left in England as that Academy for the Sons of Gentlemen, in Putney. As a +training establishment it was more suitable, I think, for the sons of parrots +or rabbits. I never even learned to handle a cricket bat or ball there. +Neither, I think, did any of my contemporaries in that futile place. The +headmaster and proprietor was a harassed and disappointed man, who exhausted +whatever energies he possessed in interviewing parents and keeping up +appearances. His one underpaid usher was a young man of whom I remember little, +beyond his habit of pulling my ears in class, and the astoundingly rich crop of +pimples on his face, which he seemed to be always cultivating with applications +of cotton-wool, plaster, and nasty stuff from a flat white jar. His mind, I +verily believe, was as innocent of thought as a cabbage. When sent to play +outdoor games with us, and instruct us in them, he always reclined on the +grass, or sat on a gate, reading the <em>Family Herald</em>, or a journal in +whose title the word 'Society' figured; except on those rare occasions when his +employer came our way for a few moments. Then, cramming his book into his +pocket, the poor pimply chap would plunge half hysterically into our moody +ranks (forgetful probably of what we were supposed to be playing) with muttered +cries of: 'Now then, boys! Put your heart into it!' and the like. 'Put your +heart into it!' indeed! Poor fellow; he probably was paid something less than a +farm labourer's wage, and earned considerably less than that.</p> + +<p>No, any education which I received in boyhood must have come to me from my +father; and that entirely without any set form of instruction, but merely from +listening to his talk, and asking him questions. Also, the books I read were +his property; and I do not recall any trash among them. It was the easiest +thing in the world to evade the 'home-work' set me by the usher, and I +consistently did so. As a rule, he was none the wiser, and when he did detect +me, the results rarely went beyond perfunctory ear-pulling; a cheap price for +free evenings, I thought. The usher was frankly sick of us all, and of his +employment, too; and I do not wonder at it, seeing that he was no more equipped +for his work than for administering a state. He never had been trained to +discharge any function in life whatever. How then could he be expected to know +how to train us?</p> + +<p>Withal, I somehow did acquire a little knowledge, and the rudiments of some +definite tastes and inclinations, during this period. Recently, in London, I +have once or twice endeavoured to probe the minds of County Council schoolboys +of a similar age, with a view to comparing the sum of their knowledge with my +own in those Putney days. And, curious though it seems, it does certainly +appear to me that the comparison was never to the advantage of the modern boy; +though I am assured he must enjoy the benefits of some kind of thought-out +educational system. I certainly did not. These things partake of the nature of +mysteries.</p> + +<p>I suppose the successive servant maids who chiefly controlled my early +childhood must have been more ignorant than any member of their class in +post-Board School days. Yet it seems beyond question clear to me that such +beginnings of a mind as I possessed at the age of ten, such mental tendencies +as I was beginning to show, were at all events more hopeful, more rational, +better worth having, than those I have been able to discern in the +twentieth-century London office boy, fresh from his palatial County Council +School. I may be quite wrong, of course, but that is how it appears to +me--despite all the uplifting influences of halfpenny newspapers, and picture +theatres, and the forward march of democracy.</p> + +<p>Then there is that notable point, the question of speech; the vehicle of +mental expression and thought transference. Between the ages of one year and +nine years, society for me was confined almost exclusively to servant girls. +From their lips it was that I acquired the faculty of speech. Yet I am certain +that the boy who walked in Richmond Park with my father in the 'sixties spoke +in his dialect, and not in that of Cockney nursemaids. Why was that? If my +father ever corrected my speech it was upon very rare occasions. I remember +them perfectly. They were not such corrections as would very materially affect +a lad's accent or choice of words.</p> + +<p>Having read a good deal more than I had conversed, I was mentally familiar +with certain words which I never had happened to have heard pronounced. One +instance I recall. (It was toward the end of my Academy period.) I had occasion +to read aloud some passage to my father, and it included the word 'inevitable,' +which in my innocence I pronounced with the accent on the third syllable. Up +went my father's eyebrows. 'Inev<em>it</em>able,' he mimicked, with playful +scorn. And that was all. He offered no correction. I recall that I was covered +in rosy confusion, and, guessing rightly, by some happy chance (or unconscious +recollection) hit upon the conventional pronunciation, never to forget it. But, +judged by any scholastic standard I ever heard expounded, there is no doubt +about it, I was, and for that matter am, a veritable ignoramus.</p> + +<p>During all the year which followed the beginning of intimacy between us, my +impression is that my father was increasingly worried and depressed. Children +have a shrewder consciousness of these things than many of their elders +suppose; and I was well aware that things were not going well with my father. I +saw more of him, and missed no opportunities of obtaining his companionship. +He, for his part, saw a good deal less of other people, I fancy, and lost no +opportunity of avoiding intercourse with his contemporaries. He brooded a great +deal; and was very fitful in his reading, writing, and correspondence. I began +to hear upon his lips significant if vague expressions of his desire to 'Get +away from all this'; to 'Get out of this wretched scramble'; to 'Find a way out +of it all.'</p> + +<p>And then with bewildering suddenness came the first big event of my career; +the event which, I suppose, was chiefly responsible also for its latest +episode.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>No doubt one reason why our migration to Australia seemed so surprisingly +sudden a step to me was that the preliminaries were arranged without my +knowledge. Apart from this, I believe the step was swiftly taken.</p> + +<p>My father had no wife or family to consider. I do not think there was a +single relative left, beside myself, with whom he had maintained intercourse of +any kind. Our household effects were all sold as they stood in the house, to a +singularly urbane and gentlemanly old dealer in such things, a Mr. Fennel, +whose stock phrase: 'Pray don't put yourself about on my account, sir, I beg,' +seemed to me to form his reply to every remark of my father's. And thus, +momentous though the hegira might be, and was, to us, I suppose it did not call +for any very serious amount of detailed preparation, once my father had made +his decision.</p> + +<p>Looking back upon it now, in the light of some knowledge of the subject, and +of old lands and new, it seems to me open to question whether, in all the +moving story of British oversea adventuring, there is an instance of any +migration more curious than ours, or of any person emigrating who was less +suited for the venture than my father. In the matter of our baggage and +personal effects, now, the one thing to which my father devoted serious care +was something which probably would not figure at all in any official list of +articles required for an emigrant's kit: his books.</p> + +<p>His library consisted of some three thousand volumes, the gleanings of a +quarter of a century when books were neither so numerous nor so cheap as they +are to-day. From these he set himself the maddening task of selecting one +hundred volumes to be taken with us. The rest were to be sold. The whole of our +preparations are dominated in the retrospect for me, by my father's absorption +in the task of sifting and re-sifting his books. Acting under his instructions, +I myself handled each one of the three thousand and odd volumes a good many +times. Eventually, we took six hundred and seventy-three volumes with us, of +which more than fifty were repurchased, at a notable advance, of course, upon +the price he paid for them, from the dealer who bought the remainder.</p> + +<p>This was my first insight into the subtleties of trade, and I noted with +loyal anger, in my father's interest, how contemptuously the dealer belittled +our books in buying them, and how eloquently he dilated upon their special +values in selling back to us those my father found he could not spare. In every +case these volumes were rare and hard to come by, greatly in demand, 'the pick +of the basket,' and so forth. Well, I suppose that is commerce. At the time it +seemed to me amply to justify all my father's lofty scorn and hatred for +everything in any way connected with business.</p> + +<p>If only the book-dealer could have adopted Mr. Fennel's praiseworthy +attitude, I thought: 'Pray don't put yourself about, sir, on my account, I +beg.' But then, Mr. Fennel, I make no doubt, was heading straight for +bankruptcy. I have sought his name in vain among Putney's modern tradesfolk. +Whereas, Mr. Siemens, the gentleman who bought our library, apart from his +various thriving establishments in London, now cherishes his declining years, I +believe, in a villa in the Italian Riviera, and a manor house in Hampshire. +Though young, when I met him in Putney, he evidently had the root of the matter +in him, from a commercial point of view, and was possibly even a little in +advance of his time in the matter of business ability. He drove a very smart +horse, I remember, was dressed smartly, and had a smart way of saying that +business was business. Yes, I dare say Mr. Siemens was more a man of his time +than my poor father.</p> + +<p>It was on the afternoon of May 2, 1870, the day after my tenth birthday, +that we sailed from Gravesend for Sydney, in the full-rigged clipper ship +<em>Ariadne</em>, of London, with one hundred and forty-seven other emigrants +and eighteen first-class passengers. It was, I suppose, a part of my father's +enthusiastically desperate state of mind at this time that we were booked as +steerage passengers. We were to lay aside finally all the effete uses of +sophisticated life. We were emigrants, bent upon carving a home for ourselves +out of the virgin wilderness. Naturally, we were to travel in the steerage. +And, indeed, I have good reason to suppose that my father's supply of money +must have been pretty low at the time. But we occupied a first-class railway +carriage on the journey down to Gravesend; and I know our porter received a +bright half-crown for his services to us, for my father's hands were occupied, +and the coin was passed to me for bestowal.</p> + +<p>Long before the tug left us, we sat down to our first meal on board; perhaps +a hundred of us together. A weary poor woman with two babies was on my left, +and a partly intoxicated man of the coal-heaving sort (very likely a Cabinet +Minister in Australia to-day) on my father's right. This simple soul made the +mistake of endeavouring to establish an affectionate friendship with my father, +who was sufficiently resentful of the man's mere proximity, and received his +would-be genial advances with the most freezing politeness. But the event which +precipitated a crisis was the coal-heaver's removal of his knife from his +mouth--the dexterity with which his kind can manipulate these lethal weapons, +even when partly intoxicated, is little less than miraculous--after the safe +discharge there of some succulent morsel from his plate, to plunge it direct +into the contents of the butter-dish before my father.</p> + +<p>Black wrath descended upon my father's face as he rose from the table, and +drew me up beside him. 'Insufferable!' he muttered, as we left that curious +place for the first and last time. I see it now with its long, narrow, +uncovered tables, stretching between clammy iron stanchions, and supported by +iron legs fitting into sockets in the deck. It was lighted by hanging lanterns +which threw queer, moving shadows in all directions, and stank consumedly.</p> + +<p>'Are we hogs that we should be given our swill in such a sty?' asked my +father, explosively, of some subordinate member of the crew whom we met as we +reached the open deck.</p> + +<p>'I dunno, matey,' replied this innocent. 'Feelin' sickish, are ye? You've +started too soon.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I'm feeling pretty sick,' said my father, as the glimmer of the +humorous side of it all touched his mind. 'Look here, my man,' he continued, +'here's half a crown for you. I want to see the purser of this ship. Just show +me where I can find him, like a good fellow, will you?'</p> + +<p>We found the purser in that condition of harassment which appears to belong, +like its uniform, to his post, when a ship is clearing the land. He was +inclined at first to adopt a pretty short way with us. He really didn't know +what emigrants wanted these days. Did they think a ship's steerage was a +<em>ho</em>-tel? And so forth.</p> + +<p>But my father was on his mettle now, and handled his man with considerable +skill and suavity. There was no second-class accommodation on the ship. But in +the end we were taken into the first-class ranks, at a substantial reduction +from the full first-class fares, on the understanding that we contented +ourselves with a somewhat gloomy little single-berth cabin which no one else +wanted. Here a makeshift bed was presently arranged for me, and within the hour +we emigrants from the steerage had become first-class passengers. The +translation brought such obvious and real relief to my father that my own +spirits rose instantly; I began to take great interest in our surroundings, +and, from that moment, entirely forgot those prophetic internal twinges, those +stomachic forebodings which, in the 'other place,' as politicians say, had +begun to turn my thoughts toward the harrowing tales I had heard of +sea-sickness.</p> + +<p>My father, poor man, was not so fortunate. He began before long to pay a +heavy price in bodily affliction for all the stress and excitement of the past +few days. For a full fortnight the most virulent type of sea-sickness had him +in its horrid grip. I have since seen many other folk in evil case from similar +causes, but none so vitally affected by the complaint as my father was, and +never one who bore it with more patient courtesy than he did. Not in the +cruellest paroxysm did he lose either his self-respect, or his consideration +for me, and for others. The mere mention of this fell complaint excites mirth +in the minds of the majority; but rarely can a man or woman be found whose +self-control is proof against its attacks; and I take pleasure in remembering +my father's admirable demeanour throughout his ordeal. In the steerage he had +hardly survived it, I think. Here, with decent privacy, no single complaint +passed his lips; and there was not a day, hardly an hour, I believe, in which +he ceased to take thought for his small son's comfort and wellbeing. His +courtesy was no skin-deep pose with my father. No doubt we are all much +cleverer and more enlightened nowadays, but--however, that is one of the lines +of thought which it is quite unnecessary for me to pursue here.</p> + +<p>I was quite absurdly proud of my father, I remember, when, at length, he +made his first appearance on the poop, leaning on my shoulder, his own +shoulders covered by the soft rug we called the 'Hobson rug,' because, years +before, a friend of that name had bequeathed it to us, after a visit to the +house near Russell Square. In all the time that came afterwards, I am not sure +that my father's constitution ever fully regained the tone it lost during our +first fortnight aboard the <em>Ariadne</em>. But, if his health had suffered a +set-back, his manner had not; that distinction of bearing in him which always +impressed me, in which I took such pride, seemed to me now more than ever +marked.</p> + +<p>Child though I was, I am assured that this characteristic of my father's had +a very real existence, and was not at all the creation of my boyish fancy. From +my very earliest days I had heard it commented upon by landladies and servants, +and, too, in remarks casually overheard from neighbours and strangers. Now, +among our fellow-passengers on board the <em>Ariadne</em>, I heard many similar +comments.</p> + +<p>Looking back from this distance I find it somewhat puzzling that in my +father's personality there should have been combined so much of real charm, +dignity, and distinction, with so marked a distaste for the society of his +fellows. Here was a man who seemed able always to inspire interest and +admiration when he did go among his equals (or those not his equals, for that +matter), who yet preferred wherever possible to avoid every form of social +intercourse. By nature he seemed peculiarly fitted to make his mark in society; +by inclination and habit, more especially in later life, it would seem he +shunned society as the plague itself. Withal, there was not the faintest +suggestion of moroseness about him, and when circumstances did lead him into +converse with others he always conveyed an impression of pleased interest. This +product of his exceptional courtesy and considerateness must have puzzled many +people, taken in conjunction with his invariable avoidance of intercourse +wherever that could be managed with politeness. Far more than any monetary or +more practical consideration, it was, I am certain, this desire of my father's +to get away from people which had led to our migration.</p> + +<p>'People interrupt one so horribly,' was a remark he frequently made to +me.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Folk whose experience of sea travel is confined to the passengers' quarters +on board modern steamships of high tonnage can have but a shadowy conception of +what a three months' passage round the Cape means, when it is made in a 1200 +ton sailing vessel. I can pretend to no technical knowledge of ships and +seafaring; but it is always with something of condescension in my mental +attitude that I set foot on board a steamship, or hear praise of one of the +palatial modern 'smoke-stacks.' It was thus I remember that the +<em>Ariadne's</em> seamen spoke of steamships.</p> + +<p>I suppose room could almost be found for the <em>Ariadne</em> in the saloons +of some of the twentieth-century Atlantic greyhounds. But I will wager that the +whole fleet of them could not show a tithe of her grace and spirited beauty in +a sea-way. And, be it noted, they would not be so extravagantly far ahead of +the <em>Ariadne</em> even in point of speed, say, between the Cape and +Australia, when, in running her easting down with a living gale on her quarter, +she spurned the foam from her streaming sides to the tune of a steady fourteen +to fifteen knots in an hour; 'snoring along,' as seamen say, with all her +cordage taut as harp-strings, and her clouds of canvas soaring heavenward tier +on tier, strained to the extreme limit of the fabric's endurance.</p> + +<p>From talk with my father, I knew the <em>Ariadne</em> of mythology, and so +the sight of the patent log-line trailing in the creamy turmoil of our wake +used always to suggest imaginings to me, as I leaned gazing over our poop rail, +of a modern Theseus being rescued by this line of ours from the labyrinthine +caverns of some submarine Minotaur.</p> + +<p>Aye, she was a brave ship, and these were brave days of continuously +stirring interest to the lad fresh from Putney and its Academy for the Sons of +Gentlemen; or, as I should probably say, from one of its academies. I do not +recall that life itself, the great spectacle, had at this period any interest +for me, as such. My musings had not carried me so far. But the things and +people about me, the play of the elements, and the unceasing and ever-varying +activities of the ship's working, appealed to me as his love to a lover, +filling my every hour with waiting claims, each to my ardour more instant and +peremptory than its fellow.</p> + +<p>Rhapsodies have been penned about the simple candour of children, the +unmeasured frankness of boys. These qualities were not, I think, conspicuous in +me. At least, I recall a considerable amount of play-acting in my life on board +the <em>Ariadne</em>, and, I think, in even earlier phases. As a boy, it seems +to me, I had a very keen appetite for affection. I was somewhat emotional and +sentimental, and always interested in producing an impression upon the minds of +those about me. Without reaching the point of seeing life as a spectacle, I +believe my own small personality presented a spectacle of which I was pretty +generally and interestedly conscious. There was a good deal of drama for me, in +my own insignificant progress. I often watched myself, and strove to gauge the +impression I produced on others, and to mould and shape this to my fancy. There +may possibly be something unpleasant, even unnatural about this, in so young a +boy. I do not know, but I am sure it is true; and so it is rightly set down +here.</p> + +<p>There was a Mrs. Armstrong among our passengers, who was accompanied by two +daughters; a bonny, romping girl of sixteen, in whom I felt little or no +interest, and a serious young woman of two or three-and-twenty, with whom I +fell in love in an absurdly solemn fashion. Miss Armstrong had a great deal of +shining fair hair, a good figure, and pleasing dark blue eyes. That is as far +as memory carries me regarding her appearance. She rather took me up, as she +might have taken up crewel work, whatever that may be, or district visiting, or +what not. No doubt she was among the majority in whom my father inspired +interest. She talked to me in an exemplary way, and held up before me, as I +remember it, a sort of blend of little Lord Fauntleroy and the dreadful child +in <em>East Lynne</em>, as an ideal to strive after.</p> + +<p>She assuredly meant most kindly by me, but the influence was not, perhaps, +very wholesome; or, it may be, I twisted and perverted it to ill uses. At +least, I remember devious ways in which I sought to earn her admiration, and +other yet more devious ways in which I schemed to win petting from her. I +actually used to invent small offences and weave circumstantial romances about +pretended wrong-doings, in order to have the pleasure of confessing, with mock +shame, and getting absolution, along with caresses and sentimental promises of +help to do better in future. In retrospect it seems I was a somewhat horrid +little chap in this. I certainly adored Miss Armstrong; though in an entirely +different way from the manner of my subsequent passion for little black-haired +Nelly Fane. The Fane family consisted of the father, mother, one boy, and two +girls: Nelly, and her sister Marion, both charming children, the first very +dark, the other fair. Nelly was a year older than I, Marion two years younger. +The boy, Tom, was within a month or two of my own age.</p> + +<p>It might be that I was wearying a little of the solemn sentimentality of my +attachment to Miss Armstrong; possibly the pose I thought needful for holding +this young lady's regard withal proved exhausting after a time. At all events, +I remember neglecting her shamefully in equatorial latitudes, when the +<em>Ariadne</em> was creeping along her zig-zag course through the Doldrums. +For me this period, fascinating in scores of other ways, belongs to Nelly Fane, +with her long black curls, biscuit-coloured legs and arms, and large, melting +dark eyes. At the time the thought of being separated from this imperious +little beauty meant for me an abomination of desolation too dreadful to be +contemplated. But, looking back upon the circumstances of my suit, I think it +likely my heart had never been captivated but for jealousy, and my trick of +seeing myself as the first figure in an illustrated romance.</p> + +<p>There was another boy on board--I remember only his Christian name: +Fred--who, in addition to being a year older than myself, had the huge +advantage of being an experienced traveller. He was an Australian, and had been +on a visit with his parents to the Mother-country. At a quite early stage in +our passage, he won my cordial dislike by means of his old traveller's airs, +and--far more unforgiveable--the fact that he had the temerity to refer to my +father, in my hearing, as 'The old chap who can't get his sea-legs.' I fear I +never should have forgiven him for that.</p> + +<p>In addition, as we youngsters played together about the decks, this Fred +used to arrogate to himself always the position of leader and director. He knew +the proper names of many things of which the rest of us were ignorant, and, +where his knowledge did not carry him, I was assured his conceit and hardihood +did. To such ears as Nelly Fane's, for instance, 'Jib-boom,' 'Fore +topmast-staysail,' must have an admirably knowledgeable note about them, I +thought, even if ever so wrongly used. My first attack upon Fred consisted in +convicting him of some such swaggering misuse of a nautical term to the which, +as luck had it, I had given careful study on the fo'c'sle-head during the +previous evening's second dog-watch, when my friends among the crew were taking +their leisure. He bore no malice, I think; in any case, his self-esteem was a +very hardy growth, and little liable to suffer from any minor check.</p> + +<p>We never came to blows, the Australian and myself, which was probably as +well for me, since I make no doubt the lad could have trounced me soundly, for +he was disgustingly wiry and long of limb. That was how I saw his physical +advantages. But, apart from this matter of physical superiority, he was no +match for me. In the subtler qualities of intrigue I was his master; and he, +never probably having observed himself as a hero of romance, had to yield to my +proficiency in the art of producing a desired impression. It was in his +capacity as an old campaigner, a knowing dog, and a seasoned salt, that he had +carried Nelly Fane's heart by storm, and established himself an easy first in +her regard. And seeing this it was, I believe, which first weakened my devotion +to the fair Miss Armstrong, by turning my attention to Nelly Fane.</p> + +<p>I did not really deserve to win Nelly, my suit at first being based upon +foundations so unworthy. But the pursuit of her stirred me deeply; and in the +end--say, in a couple of days--I was her very humble and devoted slave. She +really was an attractive child, I fancy, in her wilful, imperious way. And, +Cupid, how I did adore her by the time I had driven Master Fred from the field! +Even my father suffered a temporary eclipse in my regard during the first +white-hot fervour of my devotion to Nelly. I lied for her, in word and deed; I +stole for her--from the cabin pantry--and I am sure I risked life and limb for +her a dozen times, in my furious emulation of any achievement of Fred's, in my +instant adoption of any suggestion of Nelly's, however mischievous. And how +many of us could truthfully say as much of their enthusiasm in any mature love +affair? How many grown men would deliberately risk life to win the passing +approval of a mistress?</p> + +<p>For example, I recall two typical episodes. Neither had been remarkable, +perhaps, for a boy devoid of fear or imagination; but I was one shrewdly +influenced by both qualities. There was a roomy cabin under the +<em>Ariadne's</em> starboard counter, which served the Fane family as a sort of +sitting-room or day nursery. It had two circular port-holes, brass-rimmed, of +fairly generous proportions. Under the spur of verbal taunts from Fred, and +passive challenges from Nelly's dark eyes, I positively succeeded in wriggling +my entire body out through one of those port-holes, feet first, until I hung by +my hands outside, my feet almost touching the water-line. And then it seemed I +could not win my way back.</p> + +<p>Nelly, moved to tears of real grief now, was for seeking the aid of +grown-ups. I wasted precious breath in adjuring her as she loved me to keep +silence. For my part death seemed imminent and certain. But I pictured Fred's +grinning commiseration should our elders rescue me, and--I held on. By slow +degrees I got one arm and shoulder back into the cabin, pausing there to rest. +From that moment I was safe; but I was too cunning to let the fact appear. My +reward began then, and most voluptuously I savoured it. I had Mistress Nelly on +her biscuit-coloured knees to me before I finally reached the cabin floor on my +hands, my toes still clinging to the port-hole. Poor Fred could not possibly +equal this feat. His girth would not have permitted it.</p> + +<p>Again, there was the blazing tropical afternoon, in dead calm, when I +established a new record by touching the ship's prow under water. It was siesta +time for passengers. The watch on deck was assembled right aft, scraping +bright-work. Pitch was bubbling in the deck seams, and every one was drowsy, +excepting Nelly, Marion, Tom, Fred, and myself. We were plotting mischief in +the shadow of the <em>Ariadne's</em> anchors, right in the eyes of the ship. I +forget the immediate cause of this piece of foolhardiness, but I remember +Fred's hated fluency about 'dolphin-strikers,' 'martingales,' and what not; +and, finally, my own assertion that I would touch the ship's forefoot, where we +saw it gleaming below the glassy surface of the water, and Fred's mocking reply +that I jolly well dared do no such a thing. Nelly's provocative eyes were in +the background, of course.</p> + +<p>Three several times I tried and failed, swinging perilously at a rope's end +below the dolphin-striker. And then the <em>Ariadne</em>, with one of those +unaccountable movements which a ship will make at times in the flattest of +calms, brought me victory, and the narrowest escape from extinction in one and +the same moment. I swung lower than before, and the ship ducked suddenly. I not +only touched her bows below the water-line, but had all the breath knocked out +of me by them, and was soused under water myself, as thoroughly as a Brighton +bathing woman could have done the trick for me. To this day I remember the +breathless, straining agony of the ascent, when my clothes and myself seemed +heavier than lead, and the ship's deck miles above me. My clothes--a jersey and +flannel knickerbockers--dried quickly in the scorching sun, and no grown-up +ever knew of the escapade, I think. But, the peril of it, in a shark-infested +sea!</p> + +<p>No doubt these feats helped me to the subjugation of Nelly. Yet, after all, +in sheer physical prowess, I could not really rival Fred, who stood a full head +taller than I did. But I had a deal more of finesse than he had, made very much +better use of my opportunities, and was a far more practised poseur. Fred was +well supplied with self-esteem--a most valuable qualification in +love-making--but he lacked the introspectively seeing eye. He might compel +admiration, in his rude fashion. He could never force a tear or steal a +sigh.</p> + +<p>Fred--Fred without a surname, I wonder what has been your lot in life, and +where you air your prosperity to-day! For, prosperous I feel certain you are. +And, who knows? Nelly may be Mrs. Fred to-day, for aught I can tell. When all +is said and done, you all of you had more in common, one with another, and each +with all, than I had with any of you!</p> + +<p>And that reminds me of a trifle overlooked. During all my association with +these my contemporaries on board the <em>Ariadne</em>, but with special +keenness in the beginning, I was conscious of something outside my own +experience, which they all shared. At that time it was to me just a something +which they had and I had not; a quality I could not define. Looking back upon +it I see clearly that the thing was in part fundamental, a flaw in my +temperament; and, in part, the family sense. They all knew what 'home' meant, +in a way in which I knew it not at all. They were more carelessly genial and +less serious and preoccupied than I was. They all had mothers, too.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to say that they were necessarily much better off than I. They +had certain qualities which I lacked, the product of experiences I had never +enjoyed. And I had various qualities which they had not. On the whole, perhaps, +I was more mature than they were; and they, perhaps, were more happy and +care-free--certainly less self-conscious--than I was. There was a kind of +Freemasonry of shared experience among them, and I had never been initiated. +They were established members of a recognised order, to which I did not belong. +They were members of families of a certain defined status. I was an isolated +small boy, with a father, and no particular status.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="BOYHOOD--A" id="BOYHOOD--A">BOYHOOD--AUSTRALIA</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p>It has often occurred to me to wonder why my recollections of our arrival +and first days in Sydney should be so blurred and unsatisfactorily vague. One +would have thought such episodes should stand out very clearly in retrospect. +As a fact, they are far less clear to me than many an incident of my earlier +childhood.</p> + +<p>What I do clearly recall is lying awake in my makeshift bunk for some time +before daylight on the morning we reached Sydney, and, finally, just before the +sun rose, going on deck and sitting on the teak-wood grating beside the wheel. +There, on our port side, was the coast of Australia, the land toward which we +had been working through gale and calm, storm and sunshine, for more than +ninety days. Botany Bay, said the chart. I thought of the grim record I had +read of early settlement here. And then came the pilot's cutter, sweeping like +a sea-bird under our lee. The early sunshine was bright and gladsome enough; +but my recollection is that I felt somehow chilled, and half frightened. That +sandy shore conveyed no kindly sense of welcome to me.</p> + +<p>The harbour--oh, yes, the harbour was, and is, beautiful, and I can remember +thrilling with natural excitement as we opened up cove after cove, while the +<em>Ariadne</em>--stately as ever, but curiously quiescent now, with her trimly +furled and lifeless sails--was towed slowly to her anchorage. The different +bays--Watson's, Mossman's, Neutral, and the rest--had not so many villas then +as now. Manly was there, in little; but surf-bathing, like some other less +healthful 'notions' from America, was still to come. From the North Shore +landing-stage one strolled up the hill, and, very speedily, into the bush.</p> + +<p>Yes, the place was naturally beautiful enough; but the <em>Ariadne</em> was +home; her every deck plank was familiar to me; I knew each cleat about her +fife-rails, every belaying-pin along her sides, every friendly projection from +her deck that had a sheltering lee. The shining brass-bound, teak-wood buckets +ranged along the break of her poop--the crew's lime-juice was served in one of +these, and they all were painted white inside--I see them now. <em>Ay di +mi!</em> as the Spanish ladies say; I am not so sure that any place was ever +more distinctly home to me. Over the rail, across the dancing waters of the +harbour, where the buildings clustered about Circular Quay; as yet, of course, +there could be nothing homely for me about all that. And, as to me, it never +did become very homely; perhaps that is why my recollections of our first +doings there are so vague.</p> + +<p>How often, in later years, my heart swelled with vague aspiring yearnings +toward what lay beyond, while my eyes ranged over that same smiling scene, from +the Domain, Lady Macquarie's Chair, and the purlieus of Circular Quay! (There +were no trams there then.) Here one saw the ships that carried folk to and +from--what? To and from Home, was always my thought; though what home I fancied +that distant island in her grey northern sea had for me, heaven knows! Here one +rubbed shoulders, perchance, with some ruddy-faced, careless fellow in dark +blue clothes, who, but a short couple of months ago, walked London's streets, +and would be there again in the incredibly brief space of six weeks or so. +Dyspepsia itself knows no more fell and spirit-racking anguish than nostalgia +brings; and at times I have fancied the very air--bland, warm, and kindly +seeming--that circulates about the famous quay must be pervaded and possessed +by germs of this curious and deadly malady. At least, that soft air is breathed +each day by many a victim to the disease; old and young, and of both sexes.</p> + +<p>No doubt we must have spent some days in Sydney, my father and myself; but +from the <em>Ariadne</em>, and the parting with Nelly Fane and my other +companions, memory carries me direct to the deck of a little intercolonial +steamer, bound north from Sydney, for Brisbane and other Queensland ports. I +see myself in jersey and flannel knickers sitting beside my father on the edge +of a deck skylight, and gazing out across dazzlingly sunlit waters to the +near-by northern coast of New South Wales. Suddenly, my father laid aside the +book which had been resting on his knee, and raised to his eyes the binoculars +he used at sea.</p> + +<p>'How extraordinary,' he murmured. And, my gaze naturally following his, I +made out clearly enough, without glasses, a vessel lying high and dry on the +white sand of a fair-sized bay.</p> + +<p>My father's keen interest in that derelict ship always seemed to me to +spring into being, as it were, full-grown. There was in it no period of gradual +development. From the moment his eyes first lighted upon the tapered spars of +the <em>Livorno</em>, where she lay basking in her sandy bed, his interest in +her was absorbing. Everything else was forgotten. In a few minutes he was in +eager conversation about the derelict with the chief officer of our steamer. I +remember the exact words and intonation of the man's answer to my father's +first question:</p> + +<p>'Well, I couldn't say for that, Mr. Freydon' (In Australia no one ever +forgets your name, or omits to use it in addressing you), 'but I can tell you +the day I first saw her. She was lying there exactly as she is to-day. I was +third mate of the <em>Toowoomba</em> then; my first trip in her, and that was +seven years ago come Queen's Birthday. Seen her every trip since--just the +same. No, she never seems to alter any. She's high and dry, you see; bedded +there on an even keel, same's if she was afloat. Yes, it is a wonder, as you +say, Mr. Freydon; but it's a lonely place, you see; nothing nearer than--what +is it? Werrina, I think they call it; fifteen mile away; and that's a day's +march from anywhere, too. Oh yes, there might be an odd sundowner camp aboard +of her once in a month o' Sundays; but I doubt it. She isn't in the track to +anywhere, as ye might say. No, I guess it would only be bandicoots, an' the +like o' that you'd find about her; an' birds, maybe. Only thing I wonder about +her is, how she landed there without ever losing her top-hamper, and why +nobody's thought it worth while to pick her bones a bit cleaner. Must be good +stuff in her stays an' that, to have stood so long, with never a touch o' the +tar-brush.'</p> + +<p>There was more in the same vein, but this much comes back to me as though it +were yesterday that I heard the words. I see the mate's hard blue eye, and +crisply curling beard; I see the upward tilt of the same beard as he spat over +the rail, and my father's little retreating movement at his gesture. (My father +never lost his sensitiveness about such things, though I doubt if he ever +allowed it to appear to eyes less familiar with his every movement than my +own.) It seems to me that my father talked of the derelict--we did not know her +name then, and spoke of her simply as 'the ship'--for the rest of the day, and +for days afterwards; and the key to his thoughts was given in one of his +earliest remarks:</p> + +<p>'What a home a man might make of that ship--all ready to his hand for the +asking! The sea, trees--there were plenty of trees--sunshine, solitude, and +space. Think of the peacefulness of that sun-washed bay. Nothing nearer than +fifteen miles away, and that a mere hamlet, probably. Werrina--not a bad name, +Nick--Werrina. Aboriginal origin, I imagine. And all that for the mere taking; +open to the poorest--even to us. You liked the <em>Ariadne</em>, Nick. What +would you think of a ship of our own?'</p> + +<p>Assuredly, we were the strangest pair of emigrants....</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Naturally, my father's suggestion, thrown out as it were in jest, +whimsically, fired my fancy instantly. 'How glorious!' I said. 'But can we, +really, father?'</p> + +<p>It was less than a week later that we walked out of Werrina's one street +into the bush to the westward of that township, accompanied by Ted Reilly and a +heavily-laden pack-horse--Jerry. Ted was one of Werrina's oddities, and, in +many respects, our salvation. The Werrina storekeeper shook his grizzled head +over Ted, and vowed there wasn't an honest day's work in the man.</p> + +<p>'What's the matter with Ted is he's got no Systum; never had since he was a +babby.' (My thoughts reverted at once to a highly coloured anatomical diagram +which hung in the cabin of the <em>Ariadne's</em> captain: the flayed figure of +a man whose face wore the incredibly complacent look one sees on the waxen +features of tailors' dummies, though the poor fellow's heart, liver, kidneys, +and other internal paraphernalia were shamelessly exposed to the public gaze. +The storekeeper's tone convinced me for the time that poor Ted had been born +lacking some one or other of the important-looking purple organs which the +diagram had shown me as belonging to the human system.) 'He's a +here-to-day-and-gone-to-morrow, come-day-go-day-God-send-Sunday sort of a +customer, is Ted--my oath! Wanter Systum. That's what I'm always telling 'em in +this place. It's wanter Systum that's the curse uv Australia; an' Ted's got it +worsen most. Don't I know it? I gave him a chanst here in my store. Might ha' +made a Persition frimself. But, no; no Systum at all. He was off in a +fortnight, trappin' dingoes in the bush, or some such nonsense. He's for no +more use than--than a bumble bee, isn't Ted Reilly; nor never will be.'</p> + +<p>Well, he was of a good deal of practical use to us, the storekeeper +notwithstanding; but I admit that there was a notable absence of 'Systum' about +the man. He was singularly unmethodical and haphazard, even as his kind go in +the remoter parts of Australia. He made our acquaintance very casually by +asking my father for a match, almost before we had descended from the coach +outside the Royal Hotel, Werrina. (There was nothing royal, or even +comfortable, about this weatherboard and iron inn, except its name.) And, oddly +enough, my father fell into conversation with him, and seemed rather to take to +the man forthwith.</p> + +<p>I know it was by his advice, as kindly meant, I am sure, as it was shrewd, +that my father said nothing to any one else in the township of his fantastic +ideas regarding what we now knew to be the derelict Italian barque, +<em>Livorno</em>, of Genoa. It was given out that we were going camping, +between Werrina and the coast; and, no doubt my father was credited by the +local wiseacres with the possession of some crafty prospecting scheme or +another. Most of the folk thereabouts had been always wont to look to the bush +(chiefly for timber) as a source of livelihood, but their attention was usually +turned inland rather than seaward; for the bulk of the country between Werrina +and the sea is poor and swampy, or sandy. The belt of timber we had seen behind +our derelict's bay was not extensive.</p> + +<p>It was Ted who bought Jerry for us for the modest price of £3, 15s.; and I +make no doubt that serviceable beast would have cost my father £7 if he had had +'the haggling of it.' Pack-saddle and tent, with a number of other oddments, +had come with us from across the Queensland border; first, by rail, and thence +by numerous devious coach routes to Werrina. The only thing about our +expedition which I think Ted really mistrusted and disliked was the fact that +we set forth on foot. He told my father of horses he could buy, if not for +three a penny, certainly at the rate of two for a five-pound note. (Animals no +better, or very little better, are selling for £20 apiece in the same country +to-day.) But my father spoke of the cost of saddlery and the like. He had been +brought up in a land where horse-keeping means considerable expense, and the +need for husbanding his slender resources was strongly foremost in his mind +just now. But Ted had all his life long thought of horses as a natural and +necessary adjunct to man's locomotion. I have seen him devote considerable time +and energy to the task of catching Jerry in order to ride across a couple of +hundred yards of sand to his favourite wood-cutting spot. To be poor, that is, +short of money, was a natural and customary thing enough in Ted's eyes; but to +go ajourneying as a footman suggested a truly pitiable kind of destitution, and +did, I am convinced, throw a shadow over what otherwise had been the outset of +a jaunt entirely after his own heart.</p> + +<p>As the morning wore on, however, and we left behind us all likelihood of +chance encounters with more fortunately placed and therefore critical people, +bestriding pigskin, Ted's spirits rose again to their normal easy altitude, and +mounted beyond that to the level of boyish jollity. Myself, I incline to think +that walking along a bush track, with a long stick in his hand and a pack-horse +to drive before him, was really an ideal situation for Ted, despite his +preference for riding. Afoot, he could so readily step aside to start a +'goanner' up a tree, or pluck an out-of-the-way growth to show me.</p> + +<p>There never was such a fellow for 'noticing' things, as they say of +children. Print he never read, so far as I know, and perhaps this helped to +make him so amazingly keen a reader of Nature. Not the littlest comma on that +page ever eluded him.</p> + +<p>'Hullo!' he would say when Werrina was miles away behind us. 'Who'd've +thought o' that baldy-faced steer o' Murdoch's bein' out here?' One gazed about +to locate the beast. But, no. No living thing was in sight. In passing, quite +casually, Ted's roving eye had spied a hoof mark, perhaps a day old or more, in +the soft bottom of a tiny billabong; a print I could hardly make out, leave +alone identify as having been made by this beast or the other, even under the +guidance of Ted's pointing finger. Yet for Ted that casual glance--no stooping, +no close scrutiny--supplied an accurate and complete picture: the particular +beast, its gait, occupation, and way of heading, and the period at which it had +passed that way. Withal, it was true enough, as the storekeeper said, poor Ted +had no 'Systum'; or none, at all events, of the kind cultivated in shops and +offices.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>However much at fault I may be in recollection of our arrival at Sydney, my +memories of our first night at Livorno Bay (so my father christened the +derelict's resting-place) could hardly be more vivid and distinct. That night +marks for me the beginning of a definite epoch in my life.</p> + +<p>I passed the spot in a large inter-state steamer last year. There was no +sign of any ship there then, so far, at all events, as I could make out with a +borrowed pair of glasses; and the place looked very much the same as any other +part of the Australian coast. There are thousands of such indentations around +the shores of the island continent, with low headlands of jagged rock by way of +horns, and terraces of shell-strewn sand dotted over with ti-tree scrub, which +merges into a low-lying bush of swamp oak and suchlike growths, among which, as +like as not, you shall find, as we found, a more or less extensive salt-water +lagoon, over the sandy bar of which big, tossing breakers will roll in from the +Pacific in stormy weather. Yes, I would say now that there is nothing very +peculiar or distinctive about Livorno Bay for the observer who is familiar with +other parts of Australia's coast.</p> + +<p>But in my youthful eyes, seen on the evening of our arrival, after a fifteen +miles' walk, and, seen, too, in the glow of a singularly angry-looking evening +sky, Livorno Bay, with its derelict barque to focus one's gaze, presented a +spectacle almost terrifying in its desolation. Years must have passed since +anything edible could have been found on board the <em>Livorno</em>. Yet I +hardly think I should exaggerate if I said that two thousand birds rose +circling from various points of vantage about the derelict as we approached her +sides. That this winged and highly vocal congregation resented our intrusion +was not to be doubted for a moment. Short of actually attacking us with beak +and claw, the creatures could hardly have given more practical expression to +their sentiments. The circumstance was trivial, of course, but I think it +somewhat dashed my father's ardour, and I know it struck into my very +vitals.</p> + +<p>'Begone, you interlopers, or we will rend you! This is no place for humans. +Here is only death and desolation for the likes of you. This place belongs of +immemorial right to us, and to our masters, the devouring elements. Begone!'</p> + +<p>So it seemed we were screamed at from thousands of hoarse throats.</p> + +<p>For my part I was well pleased when my father agreed to Ted's suggestion +that we should postpone till morning our inspection of the ship, and, in the +meantime, concentrate upon the more immediate necessity of pitching camp for +the night in the shelter of the timber belt and outside the domain of the +screaming sea-birds. Our tent was fortunately not one of the cumbersome sort I +had seen on Wimbledon Common at home, but a light Australian contrivance of +cotton, enclosing a space ten feet by eight, and protected by a good large fly. +Thanks mainly to Ted and his axe we had the necessary stakes cut, and the tent +pitched before dark. Meanwhile, the little fire Ted had lighted against a +blackened tree-stump had grown into the sort of fiery furnace that was +associated in my mind with certain passages in the Old Testament; and, +suspended by a piece of fencing wire from a cross stake on two forked sticks, +our billy was boiling vigorously.</p> + +<p>In all such bush-craft as this Ted was <em>facile princeps</em>, and he +asked no better employment. Jerry was turned out to graze, belled and hobbled +(for safety in a strange place), and just as actual darkness closed in upon +us--no moon was visible that night--we sat down at the mouth of the tent to sup +upon corned beef, bread and cheese and jam; the latter in small tins with +highly coloured paper wrappers.</p> + +<p>By this time my sense of chill and depression had pretty well evaporated. +The details of our domesticity were most attractive to me. But I am not sure +that my father quite regained his spirits that evening. We each had a canvas +camp-stretcher of the collapsible sort. In ten minutes Ted had made himself a +hammock bed of two sacks, two saplings, and four forked stakes, which for +comfort was quite equal to any camp cot I have yet seen. Sleep came quickly to +me, at all events, and whenever I woke during the night, as I did some three or +four times, there was booming in my ears that rude music which remained the +constant accompaniment of all our lives and doings in Livorno Bay: the dull +roar of Pacific breakers on the sand below us, varied by a long sibilant +intaking of breath, as it seemed, caused by the back-wash of every wave's +subsidence.</p> + +<p>Very gently, to avoid disturbing my father--I can see his face on the flimsy +cot pillow now, looking sadly fragile and worn--I crept out from our tent in +time to see the upper edge of the sun's disc (like a golden dagger of the +Moorish shape) flash out its assurance across the sea, and gild with sudden +bravery the trucks and spars and frayed rigging of the barque <em>Livorno</em>. +Life has no other reassurance to offer which is quite so emphatic as that of +the new risen sun; and it is youth, rather than culture, which yields the +finest appreciation of this. In its glad light I ran and laughed, half naked, +where a few hours earlier, in the murk of coming night, the sense of my own +helpless insignificance in all that solitude had descended upon me in the shape +of physical fear. Sea and sand laughed with me now, where before they had +smitten me with lonely foreboding, almost with terror. I had my first bathe +from a Pacific beach that morning; and, given just a shade more of +venturesomeness in the outsetting, it had been like to be my last. In Livorno +Bay the breakers were big, and the back-wash of their surf very insistent.</p> + +<p>The fire of his enthusiasm was once more alight in my father when I got back +to our camp that morning; and one might have supposed it nourished him, if one +had judged from the cursory manner in which his share of our simple breakfast +was dispatched. Then, carrying with him a tomahawk, I remember, he led us down +across the sand to where the ship lay, so deeply bedded that one stepped over +her rail as it might have been the coaming of a hatch. Her deck, and indeed +every uncovered part of the <em>Livorno</em>, was encrusted in the droppings of +multitudinous sea-fowl. For almost as many years as I had lived, probably, +these creatures had made a home of the derelict. To be sure, they had as good a +right to it as we had; yet I remember how keenly we resented their claims, in +the broad light of day; even as they, on the previous evening, had resented us. +Ted promised them a warm time of it, and congratulated himself on having +brought his old gun.</p> + +<p>'I'll show 'em whose ship it is,' he said, 'to-night.' And the boy in me +rose in sympathetic response. I suppose I looked forward to the prospect of +those birds being given a taste of the fear they had helped to inspire in +me.</p> + +<p>The <em>Livorno</em> had a long, low poop, no more than three feet high, and +extending forward to the mainmast. She had none of the <em>Ariadne's</em> +bright-work, as the polished teak was always called on that ship. Her rails and +deck-houses had been painted in green and white, and I made out the remains of +stencilled ornamentation in the corners of panels. No doubt my father had his +preconceptions regarding the derelict of which he had thought so much in the +past week. In any case he did not linger by the way, but walked direct to the +cuddy or saloon, which we entered by a deeply encrusted, sun-cracked scuttle, +just forward of the mizzen-mast. So here we were, at length, at the heart of +our quest.</p> + +<p>Personally, I was for the moment disappointed. My father, being wiser and +knowing better what to expect, was pleased, I think. My anticipations had +doubtless taken their colour from recent experience of the trim, well-ordered +smartness of the <em>Ariadne's</em> saloon. Here, on board the derelict, +nothing was left standing which could easily be carried away. The cabins +opening into the little saloon had no doors, save in the case of one--the +captain's room--that had been split down the centre, apparently with an axe, +and its remains hung drunkenly now upon one hinge, which, at a touch from Ted's +hand, parted company with its bulkhead, leaving the door to fall clattering to +the deck. But, curiously enough, the good hardwood bunks were all intact, +except in the case of one, which had, apparently, been wantonly smashed, +perhaps by the same insensate hand that smashed the door.</p> + +<p>The saloon table had gone, of course, and the chairs; but the brass cleats +which had held them to their places in the deck were there still to show us +where our predecessors here had sat and taken their meals. Here they had done +their gossiping, no doubt, over the remains of savoury macaroni, with, +perchance, an occasional flagon of Chianti or Barolo. There was a sort of +buffet built into the forward bulkhead; and by a most surprising chance this +was unhurt, save for a great star in the mirror behind it. Even its brass rail +was intact. Some idle boor must have observed this solid little piece of man's +handiwork, and then, I suppose, struck at the mirror with his axe--a savage and +blackguardly act. But here, at all events, was our little store cupboard.</p> + +<p>'Sideboard's all right then,' was Ted's grinning comment. 'And a man could +still see to shave in the glass.'</p> + +<p>The saloon skylight had been removed bodily, perhaps to serve some cockatoo +bush farmer for a cucumber frame! And the result of this, more than any other +circumstance, had been to give the saloon its desolate look; for, beneath the +yawning aperture where once the skylight had stood, there was now an unsavoury +mound of bird's droppings, near three feet high at its apex. This was now +dust-dry; but the autumnal rains of bygone seasons had streamed upon it no +doubt, with the result that all the rest of the saloon was several inches deep +in the same sort of covering. There were naturally no stores in the pitch-black +lazareet which one reached through a trap-door in the saloon deck; but among +the lumber there we found an old bucket, a number of empty tins, packing-cases, +and the like, a coal shovel with a broken handle, and two tanks in which ship's +biscuits had been kept. How these latter commodities came to have been spared +by marauding visitors it would be hard to say; for, in the bush, every one, +without exception, requires tanks for the storage of rain-water.</p> + +<p>From the saloon we made our way right forward to the forecastle, in which +practically no damage had been done; for the reason, I suppose, that little was +there which easily could be damaged or removed. No anchors or cables were to be +seen, but the seamen's bunks remained much as I imagine they had left them; +and, on the side of one, some sundowner had contrived to scrawl, apparently +with a heated wire, this somewhat fatuous legend:</p> + +<p>'Occewpide by me Captin Ned Kelli Bushranger. Chrismas day 1868. Not too +bad.'</p> + +<p>In many other parts of the ship we found, when we came to do our cleaning, +initials, dates, and occasional names, rudely carved. But the only attempt at a +written tribute to the derelict's quality as a camping-place was the pretended +bushranger's 'Not too bad'; a thoroughly Australian commentary, and probably +endorsed in speech at the time of writing by the exclamation: 'My word!'</p> + +<p>Internally, the <em>Livorno</em> had been very thoroughly gutted, even to +the removal of many of her deck joists and 'tween-decks' stanchions. But in her +galley, which, having remained closed, was in quite good order, we found the +cooking range, though rusty, intact. It had been built into the deck-house, +and, being partly of tiles, would hardly have lent itself to easy transport or +use in another place. Ted had a fire burning in it that very day, and water +boiling on it in tins. Hidden under much mouldering rubbish in the boatswain's +locker were found two deck scrapers, which proved most useful.</p> + +<p>Ted strongly advised the adoption, as living-room, of the forecastle; and he +may have been in the right of it. The place was weather-proof, its tiny +skylight being intact. But sentiment, I think, attracted my father to the +quarter-deck. 'The weather side of the poop's my only promenade,' he said +gaily. 'And those square stern ports, with the carving under them--it would be +a sin to leave them to the birds. Oh, the saloon is clearly our place, and we +must rig a shelter over the skylight by and by.'</p> + +<p>In the end we accomplished little or nothing beyond inspection that day. +Towards evening Ted laid in a stock of firewood beside our camp, while my +father wrote a letter to the Werrina storekeeper, which Ted was to take in next +day with a cheque. I say we accomplished nothing, because I can remember no +useful work done. Yet I do vividly remember falling asleep over my supper, and +feeling more physically weary than I had ever been before. We were on our feet +all day, of course. We were gleaning new impressions at a great rate. The day +was, I suppose, a pretty full one; and assuredly one of us slept well after +it.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>When my eyes opened next morning, dawn, though near at hand, had not yet +come. His pale-robed heralds were busy, however, diffusing that sort of +nacreous haze which in coastal Australia lights the way for each day's coming. +Looking out over the pillow of my cot I saw Ted among the trees, girthing the +pack-saddle on Jerry. In a very few moments I was beside him, and in five +minutes he had started on his journey.</p> + +<p>'I'll be in Warrina for breakfast,' he said.</p> + +<p>I walked a few hundred yards beside him, and the last glimpse I caught of +him, at a bend over which the track rose a little, showed Ted seated sideways +on the horse's hindquarters, one hand resting on the pack-saddle, the other +waving overhead to me. A precarious perch I thought it, but as it saved him +from the final degradation of walking, I have no doubt it suited Ted well +enough.</p> + +<p>The sun was still some little way below the horizon when Ted disappeared, +and I was perhaps a quarter of a mile from camp. Inland, I had very likely been +bushed. Here, vague though the track was, the sea's incessant call was an +unfailing guide. But it was in those few minutes, spent in walking back towards +our tent, that I was given my first taste of solitude in the Australian bush; +and, boy that I was, it impressed me greatly. It was a permanent addition to my +narrow store of impressions, and it is with me yet.</p> + +<p>At such times the Australian bush has qualities which distinguish it from +any other parts of the world known to me. I have known other places and times +far more eerie. To go no farther there are parts of the bush in which thousands +of trees, being ring-barked, have died and become ghosts of trees. Seen in the +light of a half moon, when the sky is broken by wind-riven cloud, these +spectral inhabitants of the bush, with their tattered winding sheets of +corpse-white bark, are distinctly more eerie than anything the dawn had to show +me beside Livorno Bay.</p> + +<p>Withal, the half-hour before sunrise has a peculiar quality of its own, in +the bush, which I found very moving and somewhat awe-inspiring upon first +acquaintance. There was a hush which one could feel and hear; a silence which +exercised one's hearing more than any sound. And yet it was not a silence at +all; for the sea never was still there. It was as though the bush and all that +dwelt therein held its breath, waiting, waiting for a portent; and, meantime, +watching me. In a few moments I found myself also waiting, conscious of each +breath I drew. It was not so much eerie as solemn. Yes, I think it was the +solemnity of that bush which so impressed me, and for the time so humbled +me.</p> + +<p>A few moments later and the kindly brightness of the new-risen sun was +glinting between tree-trunks, the bush began to breathe naturally, and I was +off at a trot for my morning dabble in the surf.</p> + +<p>My father and I made but a poor show as housekeepers that day. I suppose we +neither of us had ever washed a plate, or even boiled a kettle. In all such +matters of what may be called outdoor domesticity (as in the use of such +primitive and all-round serviceable tools as the axe), the Colonial-born man +has a great advantage over his Home-born kinsman, in that he acquires +proficiency in these matters almost as soon and quite as naturally as he learns +to walk and talk. And not otherwise can the sane easy mastery of things be +acquired.</p> + +<p>My father had some admirably sound theories about cooking. He had knowledge +enough most heartily to despise the Frenchified menus which, I believe, were +coming into vogue in London when we left it, and warmly to appreciate the +sterling virtue of good English cookery and food. The basic aim in genuine +English cookery is the conservation of the natural flavours and essences of the +food cooked. And, since sound English meats and vegetables are by long odds the +finest in the world, there could be no better purpose in cooking than this. +Subtle methods and provocative sauces, which give their own distinctive flavour +to the dishes in which they are used, are well enough for less favoured lands +than England, and a much-needed boon, no doubt. They are a wasteful mistake in +England, or were, at all events, so long as unadulterated English food was +available.</p> + +<p>My father taught me these truths long ago, and I am an implicit believer in +them to-day. All his theories about such matters were sound; and it may be +that, in a properly appointed kitchen, he could have turned out an excellent +good meal--given the right mood for the task. But I will admit that in Livorno +Bay, both on this our first day alone there, and ever afterwards, my father's +only attempts at domestic work were of the most sketchy and least satisfactory +description; his grip of our housekeeping was of the feeblest, and in a very +short time the matter fell entirely into my hands when Ted was not with us. Ted +was my exemplar; from him such knowledge and ability as I acquired were +derived. But to his shrewd practicality I was able to add something, in the +shape of theory evolved from my father's conversation; and thus presently I +obtained a quite respectable grasp of bush domesticity.</p> + +<p>This day of Ted's absence in Werrina we devoted to a more or less systematic +exploration of our territory. My father was in a cheery vein, and entertained +me by bestowing names upon the more salient features of our domain. The two +horns of Livorno Bay, I remember, were Gog and Magog; the lagoon remained +always just The Lagoon; the timber belt was Arden; our camp, Zoar; and so +forth. We found an eminently satisfactory little spring, not quite so near at +hand as the water-hole from which Ted had drawn our supplies till now, but +yielding brighter, fresher water. And we botanised with the aid of a really +charming little manuscript book, bound in kangaroo-skin, and given to my father +by the widow of a Queensland squatter whom we had met on the coasting steamer. +That little volume is among my few treasured possessions to-day. Some of its +watercolour sketches look a little worn and pallid, after all these years, but +it is a most instructive book; and from it came all my first knowledge of the +various wattles, the different mahoganies, the innumerable gums, the ferns, +creepers, and wild flowers of the bush.</p> + +<p>It was almost dark when Ted returned--in a cart. We were greatly surprised +to see Jerry between the shafts of this ancient vehicle, and my father found it +hard to credit that any cart could be driven over the bush track by which we +had travelled, with its stumps and holes and sudden dips to watercourses. +However, there the cart was, its harness plentifully patched with pieces of +cord and wire; and it seemed well laden, too.</p> + +<p>'Who lent it you?' asked my father. And Ted explained how the cart had been +offered to him for £3, and how, at length, he had bought it for £2, 5s. and a +drink. It seemed a sin to miss such a chance, but if my father really did not +want it, well, he, Ted, would pay for it out of his earnings. Of course my +father accepted responsibility for the purchase, and very useful the crazy old +thing proved as time went on; for, though its collapse, like that of other more +important institutions, seemed always imminent, it never did actually dissolve +in our time, and only occasionally did it shed any vital portion of its fabric. +Even after such minor catastrophes, it always bore up nobly under the rude +first (and last) aid we could give with cord, or green-hide and axed wood.</p> + +<p>To my inexperience it seemed that Ted had brought with him a wide assortment +of most of the commodities known to civilisation. The unloading of the cart was +to me as the enjoyment of a monstrous bran-pie; an entertainment I had heard +of, but never seen. And when I heard there was certainly one more load, and +probably two, to come, I felt that we really were rich beyond the dreams of +most folk. I recalled the precise manner in which Fred (the <em>Ariadne</em> +rival and fellow-passenger, whose surname I never knew) had wilted when he +heard that my father and I had intended travelling steerage, and from my heart +I wished he could see this cart-load of assorted goods. 'Goods' was the correct +word, I thought, for such wholesale profusion; and 'cart-load' had the right +spaciousness to indicate a measure of our abundance.</p> + +<p>There were several large sheets of galvanised iron, appearing exactly as one +in the cart, but covering a notable expanse of ground when spread out singly. +These were for a roof in the place of the saloon skylight. My father had pished +and tushed and pressed for a bark roof; but Ted, in his bush wisdom, had +insisted on the prosaic 'tin,' as a catchment area for rain-water to be stored +in the two ship's tanks. There were brooms, scrubbing-brushes, kettles, pots, +pans, crockery, fishing-lines, ammunition for Ted's highly lethal old gun, and +there were stores. I marvelled that stores so numerous and varied could have +come out of Werrina. My imagination was particularly fired by the contemplation +of a package said to contain a gross of boxes of matches. Reckoning on fifty to +the box, I struggled for some time with a computation of the total number of +our matches, giving it up finally when I had reached figures which might have +thrilled a Rothschild. Our sugar was not in blue paper packages of a pound +weight, but in a sack, as it might be for the sweetening of an army corps' +porridge. And our tea! Like the true Australian he was, Ted had actually +brought us a twenty-six pound case of tea. It was a wondrous collection, and I +drew a long breath when I remembered that there was more, much more, to come. +Here were nails, not in spiral twists of paper, but in solid seven-pound +packages, and quite a number of them.</p> + +<p>Had I been a shopkeeper's son, I suppose these trifles from Werrina would +have been esteemed by me at something like their real value. So I rejoice that +I was not a shopkeeper's son, for I still cherish a lively recollection of the +glad feeling of security and comfortable well-being which filled my breast as I +paced round and about our cart and all it had brought us. Long before sun-up +next morning, Ted was off again to Werrina; but, seeing our incapacity on the +domestic side, the good fellow gave an hour or two before starting to washing +up and cooking work; and I pretended to work with him, out there in the +star-light, conversing the while in whispers to avoid disturbing my father.</p> + +<p>Two more journeys Ted made, and returned fully laden both times, the old +cart fairly groaning under the weight of goods it held. And then the services +of a bullock-driver and his team and dray had subsequently to be requisitioned +to bring out our English boxes and baggage, including the cases of my father's +books. Those books, how they tempt one to musing digressions.... But of that in +its place.</p> + +<p>By the time the carrier's work was done we had established something of a +routine of life, though this was subject to a good deal of variation and +disorder, as I remember, so long as the tent was in use. Ted had arranged with +butcher and storekeeper both to meet one of us once a week at a point distant +some six miles from Livorno Bay, where our track crossed a road. Our bread, of +course, we baked for ourselves; and excellent bread it was, while Ted made it. +I believe that even when the task of making it fell into my hands, it was more +palatable than baker's bread; certainly my father thought so, and that was +enough for me.</p> + +<p>Our hardest work, by far, was the cleaning of the <em>Livorno</em>. There +was a spring cleaning with a vengeance! We used a mixture of soft soap and soda +and sand, which made our hands all mottled: huge brown freckles over an +unwholesome-looking, indurated, fish-belly grey. The stuff made one's +finger-ends smart horridly, I remember. For days on end it seemed we lived in +this mess; our feet and legs and arms all bare, and perspiration trickling down +our noses, while soapy water and sand crept up our arms and all over our +bodies. My father insisted on doing his share, though frequently driven by mere +exhaustion to pause and lie down at full length upon the nearest dry spot. I +have always regretted his persistence at this task, for which at that time he +was totally unfit.</p> + +<p>However, the scraping and sanding and scrubbing were ended at last, and I +will say that I believe we made a very creditable job of it. We could not give +back to our barque the soundness of her youth, her sea-going prime, but I think +we made her scrupulously clean and sweet; and I shall not forget the jubilant +sense of achievement which spurred us on all through the scorching hot day upon +which we really installed ourselves.</p> + +<p>Ted had rigged an excellent table between the saloon stanchions, and three +packing-cases with blankets over them looked quite sumptuous and ottoman-like, +as seats. Our bedding was arranged in the solid hardwood bunks which had +accommodated the captain and mates of the <em>Livorno</em> what time she made +her first exit from the harbour of Genoa. Our stores were neatly stowed in +various lockers, and in Ted's famous 'sideboard'; our kitchen things found +their appointed places in the galley; our incongruous skylight roof, with its +guttering and adjacent tanks, awaited their baptism of rain; my father's books +were arranged on shelves of Ted's construction; our various English belongings, +looking inexpressibly choice, intimate, and valuable in their new environment, +were disposed with a view to convenience, and, be it said, to appearances; +and--here was our home.</p> + +<p>We were all very tired that night, but we were gay over our supper, and it +was most unusually late before I slept. Late as that was, however, I could see +by its reflected light on the deck beams that my father's candle was burning +still. And when I chanced to wake, long afterwards, I could hear, until I fell +asleep again, the slight sound he made in walking softly up and down the poop +deck--a lonely man who had not found rest as yet; who, despite bright flashes +of gaiety, was far from happy, a fact better understood and more deeply +regretted by his small son than he knew.</p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>My first serious preoccupation regarding ways and means--the money +question--began, I think, in the neighbourhood of my eleventh birthday, and has +remained a more or less constant companion and bedfellow ever since.</p> + +<p>Now, as I write, I am perhaps freer than ever before from this sordid +preoccupation; not by reason of fortunate investments and a plethoric bank +balance, but because my needs now are singularly few and inexpensive, and the +future--that Damoclean sword of civilised life--no longer stretches out before +me, a long and arid expanse demanding provision. This preoccupation began for +me in the week of my eleventh birthday, when my father asked me one evening if +I thought we could manage now without Ted's services.</p> + +<p>'It's not that I pay him much,' said my father, stroking his chin between +thumb and forefinger, as his manner was when pondering such a point; 'but the +fact is we can by no manner of juggling pretend to be able to afford even that +little. Then, again, you see, the poor chap must eat. The fish he brings us are +a real help, and no wage-earner I ever met could take pot-luck more cheerfully +than Ted. What's more, I like him, you like him, and he is, I know, a most +useful fellow to have about. But, take it any way one can, he must represent +fifty pounds a year in our rate of expenditure, and-- Well, you see, Nick, we +simply haven't got it to spend.'</p> + +<p>It was on the tip of my tongue, I remember, to ask my father why he did not +send to the bank and ask for more money; and by that may be gauged the crudely +unsophisticated stage of my development. But I must remember, too, that I bit +back the question, and, ignorant of all detail though I was, felt intuitively +sure, first, that the whole subject was a sore and difficult one for my father, +and, secondly, that I must never ask for or expect anything calling for +monetary expenditure. My vague feeling was that the World had somehow wronged +my father by not providing him with more money. I felt instinctively that It +never would give him any more; and that It had given him whatever he had, only +as the result of personal sacrifices which should never have been demanded of +him. I resented keenly what seemed to me the World's callous and unreasonable +discourtesy to such a man as my father, whom, I thought, It should have +delighted to honour.</p> + +<p>As illustrating the World's coarse and brutal injustice, I thought, there +was the case of a man like Nelly Fane's father, or, again, the storekeeper in +Werrina. (Mr. Fane would hardly have thanked me for the conjunction.) Neither, +it was clear, possessed a tithe of the brains, the distinction, the culture, or +the charm of my father; yet it was equally obvious (in different ways) that +both were a good deal more liberally endowed with this world's gear than we +were. I felt that the whole matter ought to be properly explained and made +clear to those powers, whoever they were, who controlled and ordered It. I +distinctly remember the thought taking shape in my mind that Mr. Disraeli ought +to know about it! Meantime, my concern was, as far as might be, to relieve my +father of anxiety, and so minimise as much as possible the effects of a +palpable miscarriage of justice.</p> + +<p>The thing has a rather absurd and pompous effect as I set it down on paper; +but I have stated it truly, none the less, however awkwardly.</p> + +<p>The fact that I had known no mother, combined with the progressive weakening +of my father's health and peace of mind during the previous year or so, may +probably have influenced my attitude in all such matters, may have given a +partly feminine quality to my affection for my father. I know it seemed to me +unfitting that he should ever take any part in our domestic work on the +<em>Livorno</em>, and very natural that I should attend to all such matters. +Also I had felt, ever since the day in Richmond Park when, to some extent, he +gave me his confidence regarding the severance of his connection with the +London newspaper office, that my father needed 'looking after,' that it was +desirable for him to be taken care of and spared as much as possible; and that, +obviously, I was the person to see to it. Our departure from England had been +rather a pleasure than otherwise for me, because it had seemed to place my +father more completely in my hands. Such an attitude may or may not have been +natural and desirable in so young a boy; I only know that it was mine at that +time.</p> + +<p>It follows therefore that I told my father we could perfectly well manage +without Ted, though, as a fact, I viewed the prospect, not with misgiving so +much as with very real regret. I had grown to like Ted very well in the few +months he had spent with us, and to this day I am gratefully conscious of the +practical use and value of many lessons learned from this simple teacher, who +was so notably wanting, by the Werrina storekeeper's way of it, in 'Systum.' A +more uniformly kindly fellow I do not think I have ever met. The world would +probably pronounce him an idler, and it is certain he would never have +accumulated money; but he was not really idle. On the contrary, he was full of +activity, and of simple, kindly enthusiasms. Rut his chosen forms of activity +rarely led him to the production of what is marketable, and he very quickly +wearied of any set routine.</p> + +<p>'Spare me days!' Ted cried, when my father, with some circumlocutionary +hesitancy and great delicacy, conveyed his decision to our factotum. 'Don't let +the bit o' money worry ye, Mr. Freydon. It's little I do, anyway. Give me an +odd shilling or two for me 'baccy an' that, when I go into Werrina, an' I'll +want no wages. What's the use o' wages to the likes o' me, anyhow?'</p> + +<p>I could see that this put my father in something of a quandary. A certain +delicacy made it difficult for him to mention the matter of Ted's food--the +good fellow had a royal appetite--and he did not want to appear unfriendly to a +man who simply was not cognisant of any such things as social distinctions or +obligations. Finally, and with less than his customary ease, my father did +manage to make it plain that his decision, however much he might regret being +forced to it, was final; and that he could not possibly permit Ted's proposed +gratuitous sacrifice of his time and abilities.</p> + +<p>'There's the future to be thought of, you know, Ted,' he added. (For how +many years has that word 'future' stood for anxiety, gloom, depression, and +worry?) 'Such a capable fellow as you are should be earning good pay, and, if +you don't need it now, banking it against the day when you will want it.' (My +father was on firmer ground now, and a characteristic smile began to lighten +his eyes and voice, besides showing upon his expressive mouth. I am not sure +that I ever heard him laugh outright; but his chuckle was a choice incentive to +merriment, and he had a smile of exceptional sweetness.) 'There'll be a Mrs. +Ted presently, you know, and how should I ever win her friendship, as I hope +to, if she knew I had helped to prevent her lord and master from getting +together the price of a home? No, no, Ted; we can't let you do that. But if +anything I can say or write will help you to a place worth having, I'm very +much at your service; and if you will come and pay us a visit whenever you feel +like sparing a Sunday or holiday, we shall both take it kindly in you, and Nick +here will bless you for it, won't you, Nick?'</p> + +<p>I agreed in all sincerity, and so the matter was decided. But Ted positively +insisted on being allowed to stay one further week with us, without pay, in +order, he said, 'to finish my mate's eddication as a bushman.' 'My mate,' of +course, was myself. In the Old World such freedom of speech would perhaps +indicate disrespect, and would almost certainly be resented as such. But we had +learned something of Australian ways by this time; and if my father's eyebrows +may have risen ever so slightly at that word 'mate,' I was frankly pleased and +flattered by it. Then, as now, I could appreciate as a compliment the +inclination of such a good fellow to give me so friendly a title; and yet I +fear me no genuine democrat would admit that I had any claim to be regarded as +a disciple of his cult!</p> + +<p>His mind deliberately bent on conveying instruction, Ted proved rather a +poor teacher. In that rōle he was the least thing tiresome, and given to +enlargement upon unessentials, while overlooking the things that matter. +Unconsciously he had taught me much; in his teaching week he rather fretted me. +But, all the same, I was sorry when the end of it arrived. We had arranged for +him to drive with me to the point at which our track crossed a main road, where +we should meet the storekeeper's cart. There would be stores for me to bring +back, and Ted would finish his journey with the storekeeper's man. Ted insisted +on making me a present of his own special axe, which he treated and regarded as +some men will treat a pet razor. He had taught me to use and keep it fairly +well. I gave him my big horn-handled knife, which was quite a tool-kit in +itself; and my father gave him a hunting-crop to which he had taken a desperate +fancy.</p> + +<p>The storekeeper's man witnessed our parting, and that kept me on my dignity; +but when the pair of them were out of sight, I felt I had lost a friend, and +had many cares upon my shoulders. Driving back alone through the bush with our +stores, I made some fine resolutions. I was now in my twelfth year, and very +nearly a man, I told myself. It would be my business to keep our home in order, +to take particularly good care of my father, and to see that he was as +comfortable as I could make him. Certainly, I was a very serious-minded +youngster; and it did not make me less serious to find when I got back to the +<em>Livorno</em> that my father was lying in his bunk in some pain, and, as I +knew at first glance, very much depressed. He had strained or hurt himself in +some way in cutting firewood.</p> + +<p>'You oughtn't to have done it, you know, father,' I remember saying, very +much as a nurse or parent might have said it. 'We've plenty stacked in the main +hatch, and you know the wood's my job.'</p> + +<p>He smiled sadly. 'I'm not quite sure that there's any work here that doesn't +seem to be your "job," old fellow,' he said. 'At least, if any of it's mine, it +must be a kind that's sadly neglected.'</p> + +<p>'Well, but, father, you have more important things; you have your writing. +The little outside jobs are mine, of course. I've learned it all from Ted. You +really must trust me for that, father.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, you're a good lad, Nick; and we must see if I cannot set to +seriously in the matter of doing some of this writing you talk of. It's high +time; and it may be easier now we are alone. No, I don't think I'll get up to +supper this evening, Nick. I'm not very well, to tell the truth, and a quiet +night's rest here will be best for me.'</p> + +<p>We had a few fowls then in a little bush run, and I presently had a new-laid +egg beaten up for my patient. This he took to oblige me; but his 'quiet night's +rest' did not amount to much, for each time I waked through the night I knew, +either by the light burning beside him, or by some slight movement he made, +that my father was awake.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In this completely solitary way we lived for some eight months after Ted +left us. There were times when my father seemed cheery and in much better +health. In such periods he would concern himself a good deal in the matter of +my education.</p> + +<p>'It may never be so valuable to you as Ted's "eddication,"' he said; 'but a +gentleman should have some acquaintance with the classics, Nick, both in our +tongue (the nobility of which is not near so well understood as it might be) +and in the tongues of the ancients.'</p> + +<p>Once he said: 'We have lived our own Odyssey, old fellow, without writing +it; but I'd like you to be able to read Homer's.'</p> + +<p>As a fact, I never have got so far as to read it with any comfort in the +original; and I suppose a practical educationalist would say that such fitful, +desultory instruction as I did receive from my father in our cuddy living-room +on board the <em>Livorno</em> was quite valueless. But I fancy the expert would +be wrong in this, as experts sometimes are. In the schoolman's sense I learned +little or nothing. But natheless I believe these hours spent with my father +among his books, and yet more, it may be, other hours spent with him when he +had no thought of teaching me, had their very real value in the process of my +mental development. If they did not give me much of actual knowledge, they +helped to give me a mind of sorts, an inclination or bent toward those +directions in which intellectual culture is obtainable. Else, surely, I had +remained all my days a hewer of wood and a drawer of water--with more of health +in mind and body and means, perhaps, than are mine to-day! Well, yes; and that, +too, is likely enough. At all events I choose to thank my father for the fact +that at no period of my life have I cared to waste time over mere vapid trash, +whether spoken or printed.</p> + +<p>Outside his own personal feelings and mental processes, the which he never +discussed with me, there was no set of subjects, I think, that my father +excluded from the range of our conversations. Indeed, I think that in those +last months of our life on the <em>Livorno</em>, he talked pretty much as +freely with me, and as variously, as he would have talked with any friend of +his own age. In the periods when we were not together, he would be sitting at +the saloon table, with paper and pens before him, or pacing the seaward side of +the poop, or lying resting in his bunk, or on the deck. Frequent rest became +increasingly necessary for him. His strength seemed to fade out from him with +the mere effluxion of time. He often spoke to me of the curious effects upon +men's minds of the illusions we call nostalgia. But he allowed no personal +bearing to his remarks, and never hinted that he regretted leaving England, or +wished to return there.</p> + +<p>Physically speaking, I doubt if any life could be much healthier than ours +was on the <em>Livorno</em>. Dress, for each of us alike, consisted of two +garments only, shirt and trousers. Unless when going inland for some reason, we +went always barefoot. Of what use could shoes be on the <em>Livorno's</em> +decks--washed down with salt water every day--or the white sands of the bay. +Our dietary, though somewhat monotonous, was quite wholesome. We lacked other +vegetables, but grew potatoes, pumpkins, and melons in plenty. Fresh fish we +ate most days, and butcher's meat perhaps twice or thrice a week. Purer air +than that we breathed and lived in no sanatorium could furnish, and the hours +we kept were those of the nursery; though, unfortunately, bed-time by no means +always meant sleeping-time for my father.</p> + +<p>Withal, even my inexperience did not prevent my realisation of the sinking, +fading process at work in my father. Its end I did not foresee. It would have +gone hard with me indeed to have been consciously facing that. But I was sadly +enough conscious of the process; and a competent housewife would have found +humorous pathos, no doubt, in my efforts, by culinary means, to counteract +this. My father's appetite was capricious, and never vigorous. There was a +considerable period in which I am sure quite half my waking hours (not to +mention dream fancies and half waking meditations in bed) were devoted to +thinking out and preparing special little dishes from the limited range of +food-stuffs at my command.</p> + +<p>'A s'prise for you this morning, father,' I would say, as I led the way, +proudly, to our dining-table, or, in one of his bad times, arrived at his +bunk-side, carrying the carefully pared sheet of stringy bark which served us +for a tray. There would be elaborate uncoverings on my side, and sniffs of +pretended eagerness from my father; and, thanks to the unvarying kindliness and +courtesy of his nature, I dare say my poor efforts really were of some value, +because full many a time I am sure they led to his eating when, but for +consideration of my feelings, he had gone unnourished, and so aggravated his +growing weakness.</p> + +<p>'God bless my soul, Nick,' he would say, after a taste of my latest +concoction; 'what would they not give to have you at the Langham, or Simpson's? +I believe you are going to be a second Soyer, and control the destinies of +empires from a palace kitchen. Bush cooking, forsooth! Why this--this latest +triumph is nectar--ambrosial stuff, Nick--more good, hearty body in it than any +wines the gods ever quaffed. You'll see, I shall begin forthwith to lay on fat, +like a Christmas turkey.'</p> + +<p>My father could not always rise to such flights, of course; but many and +many a time he took a meal he would otherwise have lacked, solely to gratify +his small cook.</p> + +<p>There came a time when my father passed the whole of every morning in bed, +and, later, a time when he left his bunk for no more than an hour or two each +afternoon. The thought of seeking a doctor's help never occurred to me, and my +father never mentioned it. I suppose we had grown used to relying upon +ourselves, to ignoring the resources of civilisation, which, indeed, for my +part, I had almost forgotten. Not often, I fancy, in modern days has a boy of +eleven or twelve years passed through so strange an experience, or known +isolation more complete.</p> + +<p>The climax of it all dates in my memory from an evening upon which I +returned with Jerry from a journey to the road (for stores) to find my father +lying unconscious beside the saloon table, where his paper and pens were spread +upon a blotting-pad. Fear had my very heart in his cold grip that night. There +was, no doubt, a certain grotesqueness, due to ignorance, about many of my +actions. In some book (of Fielding's belike) I had read of burnt feathers in +connection with emotional young ladies' fainting fits. So now, like a +frightened stag, I flew across the sand to our fowl run, and snatched a bunch +of feathers from the first astonished rooster my hand fell upon. A few seconds +later, these were smoking in a candle flame, and thence to my father's +nostrils. To my ignorant eyes he showed no sign of life whatever, but none the +less--again inspired by books--I fell now to chafing his thin hands. And then +to the feathers again. Then back to the hands. Lack of thought preserved me +from the customary error of attempting to raise the patient's head; but no +doubt my ignorance prevented my being of much real service, though every nerve +in me strained to the desire.</p> + +<p>My father's recovery of robust health, or my own sudden acquisition of a +princely fortune, could hardly have brought a deeper thrill of gladness and +relief than that which came to me with the first flutter of the veined, dark +eye-lids upon which my gaze was fastened. A few moments later, and he +recognised me; another few minutes, and, leaning shakily on my shoulder, he +reached the side of his bunk. When his head touched the pillow, he gave me a +wan smile, and-- 'So you see you can't trust me to keep house even for one +afternoon, Nick,' he said.</p> + +<p>This almost unbalanced me, and only an exaggerated sense of responsibility +as nurse and housekeeper kept back the tears that were pricking like ten +thousand needles at my eyes. Savagely I reproached myself for having been away, +and for having no foreknowledge of the coming blow. In one of his bags my +father had a flask of brandy, and, guided by his directions, I unearthed this +and administered a little to the patient. Promising that I would look in every +few minutes, I hurried off then to relight the galley fire and prepare +something for supper.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening my father became brighter than he had been for weeks, +and, child-like, I soon exchanged my fears for hopes. And then it was, just as +I was turning in, that, speaking in quite a cheery tone, my father said:</p> + +<p>'I haven't taken half thought enough for you, Nick boy; and yet you've set +me the best possible kind of example. It's easy to laugh at the simple folks' +way of talking about "if anything happens" to one. But the idea's all right, +and ought not to be lost sight of. Well then, Nick, if "anything" should +"happen" to me, at any time, I want you to harness up Jerry and drive straight +away into Werrina, with the two letters that I left on the cuddy table. One is +for the doctor there--deliver that first--and the other is for a Roman Catholic +priest, Father O'Malley; deliver that next. It is important, and must not be +lost, for there's money in it. I wish it were more--I wish it were. Bring them +here now, Nick.'</p> + +<p>I brought the letters, and they were placed under a weight on the little +shelf over my father's head.</p> + +<p>'Don't forget what I said, Nick; and do it--exactly, old fellow. And now, +let us forget all about it. That gruel, or whatever it was you gave me just +now, has made me feel so comfortable that I'm going to have a beautiful sleep, +and wake up as fit as a fiddle to-morrow. Give me your hand, boy. +There--good-night! God bless you!'</p> + +<p>He turned on his shoulder, perhaps to avoid seeing my tears, and again, +perhaps, I have thought, to avoid my seeing the coming of tears in his own +eyes. He had kissed my forehead, and I could not remember ever being kissed by +him before. For, as long as my memory carried me, our habit had been to shake +hands, like two men....</p> + +<p>I find an unexpected difficulty in setting down the details of an experience +which, upon the whole, produced a deeper impression on me, I think, than any +other event in my life. When all is said, can any useful purpose be served by +observing at this stage of my task a particularity which would be exceedingly +depressing to me? I think not. There is assuredly no need for me, of all +people, to court melancholy. I think that, without great fullness at this point +in my record, I can gauge pretty accurately the value as a factor in my growth +of this particular experience, and so I will be very brief.</p> + +<p>On the fifth evening after that of the attack which left him unconscious on +the saloon deck, my father died, very peacefully, and, I believe, quite +painlessly. He spoke to me, and with a smile, only a few minutes before he drew +his last breath.</p> + +<p>'I'm going, Nick--going--to rest, boy. Don't cry, Nick. Best son.... God +bless....'</p> + +<p>Those were the last words he spoke. For two hours or more before that time, +he had lain with eyes closed, breathing lightly, perhaps asleep, certainly +unconscious. Now he was dead. I was under no sort of illusion about that. +Something which had been hanging cold as ice over my heart all day had fallen +now, like an axe-blade, and split my heart in twain. So I felt. There was the +gentle suggestion of a smile still about the dead lips, but something terrible +had happened to my father's eyes. I know now that mere muscular contraction was +accountable for this, and not, as it seemed, sudden terror or pain. But the +effect of that contraction upon my lonely mind! ...</p> + +<p>Well, I had two things to do, and with teeth set hard in my lower lip I set +to work to do them. With shaking hands I closed my father's eyelids and drew +the sheet over his face. Then I took the two letters from the shelf and thrust +them in the breast of my shirt.</p> + +<p>Walking stiffly--it seemed to me very necessary that I should keep all my +muscles quite rigid--I left the ship, harnessed Jerry, and drove off into the +darkling bush towards Werrina. The sun had disappeared before I left my +father's side, and the track to Werrina was fifteen miles long. A strange +drive, and a queer little numbed driver, creaking along through the ghostly +bush, exactly as a somnambulist might, the most of his faculties in abeyance. +Three words kept shaping themselves in my mind, I know, and then fading out +again, like shadows. They never were spoken. My lips did not move, I think, all +through the long, slow night drive. The three words were:</p> + +<p>'Father is dead.'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="YOUTH--AUS" id="YOUTH--AUS">YOUTH--AUSTRALIA</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>We wore no uniform at St. Peter's Orphanage, but there were plenty of other +reminders to keep us conscious that we were inmates of an institution, and what +is called a charitable institution at that. At all events I, personally, was +reminded of it often enough; but I would not say that the majority of the boys +thought much of the point. My upbringing, so far, had not been a good training +for institutional life. And then, again, my ignorance of the Roman Catholic +religion was complete. I had not been particularly well posted perhaps +regarding the church of my fathers--the Church of England; but I had never set +foot in a Roman Catholic place of worship, nor set eyes upon an image of the +Virgin. Occasionally, my father had gone with me to church in London; but, as a +rule, the companion of my devotions had been a servant. And in Australia +neither my father nor I had visited any church.</p> + +<p>I gathered gradually that my father had once met and chatted with Father +O'Malley for a few minutes in Werrina, learning in that time of the reverend +father's supervisory connection with St. Peter's Orphanage at Myall Creek, +eleven miles down the coast. It is easy now to understand how, pondering sadly +over the question of what should become of me when 'anything happened' to him, +my father had seized upon the idea of this Orphanage, the only institute of its +kind within a hundred miles. He had never seen the place, and knew nothing of +it. But what choice had he?</p> + +<p>And so I became a duly registered orphan, and an inmate of St. Peter's. The +letter I took to Father O'Malley contained, in bank-notes, all the money of +which my father died possessed. To this day I do not know what the amount was, +save that it was more than one hundred pounds, and, almost certainly, under +three hundred pounds. The letter made a gift of this money to the Orphanage, I +believe, on the understanding that the Orphanage took me in and cared for me. +It also, I understood, authorised Father O'Malley to sell for the benefit of +the Orphanage all my father's belongings on board the <em>Livorno</em>, with +the exception of the books and papers, which were to be held in trust for me, +and handed over to me when I left the institution. Knowing nobody in the +district, I do not see that my father could with advantage have taken any other +course than the one he chose; and I am very sure that he believed he was doing +the best that could be done for me in the circumstances.</p> + +<p>Like every other habitation in that countryside, the Orphanage was a wooden +structure: hardwood weatherboard walls and galvanised iron roof. But, unlike a +good many others, it was well and truly built, with a view to long life. It +stood three feet above the ground upon piers of stone, each of which had a +mushroom-shaped cap of iron, to check, as far as might be, the onslaught of the +white ant, that destructive pest of coastal Australia and enemy of all who live +in wooden houses. Also, it was kept well painted, and cared for in every way, +as few buildings in that district were. In Australia generally, even in those +days, labour was a somewhat costly commodity. At the Orphanage it was the one +thing used without stint, for it cost nothing at all.</p> + +<p>As I was being driven to the Orphanage in Father O'Malley's sulky, behind +his famous trotting mare Jinny, I hazarded upon a note of interrogation the +remark that my father would be buried.</p> + +<p>'Surely, surely, my boy; I expect he will be buried at Werrina +to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>This was on the morning after my delivery of the letters in Werrina. I had +spent the night in Father O'Malley's house. Somehow, I conveyed the suggestion +that I wanted to attend that burying. The priest nodded amiably.</p> + +<p>'Aye,' he said; 'we'll see about it, we'll see about it, presently. But just +now you're going to a beautiful house at Myall Creek--St. Peter's. And, if +ye're a real good lad, ye'll be let stay there, an' get a fine education, an' +all--if ye're a good lad. Y'r poor father asked this for ye, like a wise man; +and if we can get ut for ye, the sisters will make a man of ye in no time--if +ye're a good lad.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir,' I replied meekly; and, so far as I remember, spake no other word +while seated in that swiftly drawn sulky. I learned afterwards that the +reverend father was not only a good judge of horse-flesh, but a famous hand at +a horse deal, just as he was a notably shrewd man of business, and good at a +bargain of any kind. So I fancy was every one connected with the Orphanage.</p> + +<p>I did not, as a fact, attend my father's funeral, nor was I ever again as +far from Myall Creek as Werrina during the whole of my term at the +Orphanage.</p> + +<p>There were fifty-nine 'inmates,' as distinguished from other residents +there, when my name was entered on the books of St. Peter's Orphanage. So I +brought the ranks of the orphans up to sixty. The whole institution was managed +by a Sister-in-charge and three other sisters: Sister Agatha, Sister Mary, and +Sister Catharine. No doubt the Sister-in-charge had a name, but one never heard +it. She was always spoken of as 'Sister-in-charge.' There was no male member of +the staff except Tim the boatman; and he was hardly like a man, in the ordinary +worldly sense, since he was an old orphan, and had been brought up at St. +Peter's. He played an important part in the life of the place, because, in a +way, he and his punt formed the bridge connecting us with the rest of the +world.</p> + +<p>St. Peter's stood on a small island, under three hundred acres in area, at +the mouth of the Myall Creek, where that stream opens into the arm of the sea +called Burke Water. Our landing-stage was, I suppose, a couple of hundred yards +from the Myall Creek wharf--the 'Crick Wharf,' as it was always called; and it +was Tim's job to bridge that gulf by means of the punt, which he navigated with +an oar passed through a hole in its flat stern. The punt was roomy, but a +cumbersome craft.</p> + +<p>The orphans ranged in age all the way from about three years on to the +twenties. Alf Loddon was twenty-six, I believe; but he, though strong, and a +useful hand at the plough, or with an axe, or in the shafts of one of our small +carts, was undoubtedly half-witted. We had several big fellows whose chins +cried aloud for the application of razors. And none of us was idle. Even little +five-year-olds, like Teddy Reeves, gathered and carried kindling wood, and +weeded the garden; while boys of my own age were old and experienced farm +hands, and had adopted the heavy, lurching stride of the farm labourer.</p> + +<p>I suppose there never was a 'charitable' institution conducted more +emphatically upon business lines than was St. Peter's Orphanage. The +establishment included a dairy farm, a poultry farm, and a market garden. +Indeed, at that period, so far as the production of vegetables went, we had no +white competitors within fifty or a hundred miles, I think. As in many other +parts of Australia, the inhabitants of this countryside regarded any form of +market gardening as Chinaman's work, pure and simple. There were any number of +settlers then who never tasted vegetables from one year's end to another, +though the ground about their houses would have grown every green thing known +to culinary art. In the townships, too, nobody would 'be bothered' growing +vegetables; but, unlike many of the 'cockatoo' farmers, the town people were +ready enough to buy green things; and therein lay our opportunity. We rarely +ate vegetables at St. Peter's, but we cultivated them assiduously; and sixpence +and eightpence were quite ordinary prices for our cabbages to fetch.</p> + +<p>So, too, with dairy products. We 'inmates' saw very little of butter at +table, treacle being our great standby. (The sisters had butter, of course.) +But St. Peter's butter stamped 'S.P.O.' was famous in the district, and +esteemed, as it was priced, highly. Exactly the same might be said (both as +regards our share of these commodities and the public appreciation of them) of +the eggs and milk produced at St. Peter's. Save in the way of occasional +pilferings I never tasted milk at St. Peter's; but between us, the members of +the milking gang, of which I was at one time chief, milked twenty-nine cows, +morning and evening. I have heard Jim Meagher, the chief poultry boy, boast of +a single day's gathering of four hundred and sixty-eight eggs; but eggs, save +when stolen, pricked, and sucked raw, never figured in our bill of fare. At +first glance this might appear unbusinesslike, but the prices obtainable for +these things were good, as they still are and always have been in Australia; +and the various items of our dietary--treacle, bread, oatmeal, tea, and corned +beef--could of course be bought much more cheaply.</p> + +<p>Father O'Malley did most of the purchasing for the Orphanage, and audited +its accounts, I believe. Sister Catharine and the Sister-in-charge, between +them, did all the collecting throughout the countryside for the Orphanage +funds. And I have heard it said they were singularly adept in this work. I have +heard a Myall Creek farmer tell how the sisters 'fairly got over' him, though, +as he told the story, it seemed to me that in this particular case he had been +the victor. They were selling tickets at the time for a 'social' in aid of the +Orphanage funds. The farmer flatly refused to purchase, saying he could not +attend the function.</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, but ye'll buy a ticket, Misther Jones; sure ye will now, f'r the +Orphanage.' But Mr. Jones was obdurate. Well, then, he would give a few pounds +of tea and sugar? But he was right out of both commodities. Some of his fine +eggs, or, maybe, a young pig? Mr. Jones continued in his obduracy. He was a +poor man, he said, and could not afford to give.</p> + +<p>'May we pick a basket av y'r beautiful oranges thin, Misther Jones?' They +might not, for he had sold them on the trees.</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, can ye let us have a whip, just a common whip, Misther Jones, for +we've come out without one, an' the horse is gettin' old, an' needs +persuasion.' Mr. Jones would not give a whip, as he had but the one.</p> + +<p>'Ah, thin, just a loan of it, Misther Jones, till this evening?' No, the +farmer wanted to use the whip himself.</p> + +<p>'Well, well, thin, Misther Jones, I see we'll have to be gettin' along; so +I'll wish ye good-morning--if ye'll just let us have a cup o' milk each, for +'tis powerful warm this morning, an' I'm thirsty.' At this the farmer forgot +his manners, in his wrath, and said explosively:</p> + +<p>'The milk's all settin', an' the water tank's near empty, so I'll wish ye +good-morning, <em>anyhow</em>, mum!' And this valiant man moved to the door.</p> + +<p>But I am well assured that such a defeat was a rare thing in the sisters' +experience. Indeed, Mr. Jones made it his boast that he was the only man in +that district--'Prodesdun or Papish'--who ever received a visit from the +Orphanage sisters without paying for it. On the other hand, it was very +generally admitted that no farm in that countryside was more profitable than +ours; and that no one turned out products of higher quality, or obtained better +prices. These smaller rural industries--dairying, market gardening, and the +like--demand much labour of a more or less unskilled and mechanical sort, but +do not provide returns justifying the payment of high wages. In this regard St. +Peter's was, of course, ideally situated. It paid no wages, and employed twenty +pairs of hands for every one pair employed by the average producer in the +district.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Looking back now upon the period I spent as an 'inmate' of St. Peter's +Orphanage, it seems a queer unreal interlude enough; possessing some of the +qualities of a dream, including brevity and detachment from the rest of my +life. But well I know that in the living there was nothing in the least +dream-like about it; and, so far from being brief, I know there were times when +it seemed that all the rest of my life had been but a day or so, by comparison +with the grey, interminable vista of the St. Peter's period.</p> + +<p>It appears to me now as something rather wonderful that I ever should have +been able to win clear of St. Peter's to anything else; at all events, to +anything so unlike St. Peter's as the most of my life has been. How was it I +did not eventually succeed Tim, the punt-man, or become the hind of one or +other of the small farmers about the district, as did most of the Orphanage +lads? The scope life offered to the orphans of St. Peter's was something easily +to be taken in by the naked eye from Myall Creek. It embraced only the simplest +kind of labouring occupations, and included no faintest hint of London, or of +the great kaleidoscopic world lying between Australia and England; no sort of +suggestion of the infinitely changeful and various thing that life has been for +me.</p> + +<p>It is certain that I cherish no sort of resentment or malice where the +Orphanage and its sisters are concerned. But neither will I pretend to have the +slightest feeling of gratitude or benevolence towards them. I should not wish +to contribute to their funds, though I possessed all the wealth of the +Americas. And I will say that I think those responsible for the conduct of the +place were singularly indifferent, or blind, to the immense opportunities for +productive well-doing which lay at their feet.</p> + +<p>Here were sixty orphans; lads for the most part plastic as clay. The sisters +were the potters. No ruling sovereign possesses a tithe of the absolute +authority that was theirs. They literally held the powers of life and death. +Unquestioned and god-like they moved serenely to and fro about the island farm, +in their floating black draperies, directing the daily lives of their subjects +by means of a nod, a gesture of the hand, a curt word here or there. They were +the only gods we had. (There was nothing to make us think of them as +goddesses.) And, so blind were they to their opportunities, they offered us +nothing better. By which, I do not mean that our chapel was neglected. (It was +not, though I do not think it meant much more for any of us than the milking, +the wood-chopping, or the window-cleaning.) But, rather, that these capable, +energetic women entirely ignored their unique opportunities of uplifting us. It +was an appalling waste of god-like powers.</p> + +<p>I could not honestly say that I think the sisters ever gave anything fine, +or approximately fine, to one of their young slaves. They taught us, most +efficiently, to work, to do what Americans call 'Chores.' No word they ever let +fall gave a hint of any real conception of what life might or should mean. I +recall nothing in the nature of an inspiration. Some of us, myself included, +possessed considerable capacity for loving, for devotion. This latent faculty +was never drawn upon, I think, by any of the sisters. We feared them, of +course. We even respected their ability, strength, and authority. We certainly +never loved them.</p> + +<p>In fact, I do not think it was ever hinted to one of us that there was +anything beautiful in life. There were wonderful and miraculous things +connected with the Virgin and the Infant Christ. But these were not of the +world we knew, and, in any case, they were matters of which Father O'Malley +possessed the key. They had nothing to do with the farm, with our work, or with +us, outside the chapel. Heaven might be beautiful. There was another place that +very certainly was horrible. Meantime, there was our own daily life, and that +was--chores. That this should have been so means, in my present opinion, a +lamentable waste of young life and of unique powers. I consider that our young +lives were sterilised rather than developed, and that such sterilisation must +have meant permanent and irrevocable loss for every one of the orphans, myself +included.</p> + +<p>But I would be the last to deny the very real capacity and ability of the +sisters in their discharge of the duties laid upon them. I have no doubt at all +about it that they succeeded to admiration in doing what Father O'Malley and +the powers behind him (whoever they may have been) desired done. I can well +believe that the Orphanage justified itself from a utilitarian standpoint. I +believe it paid well as a farm. And I do not see how any one could have +extracted more in charity from the inhabitants of the district (and, too, from +the orphans) than the sisters did. Oh, I give them all credit for their +competence and efficiency.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I find it little less than wonderful to recall the manner in which +the Sister-in-charge and her three assistants maintained the perfect discipline +of that Orphanage, with never an appeal for the assistance of masculine brute +force. The Australian-born boy is not by any means the most docile or meek of +his species; and, occasionally, a newly arrived orphan would assert himself +after the universal urchin fashion. Such minor outbreaks were never allowed to +produce scenes, however. We had no intimidating executions; no birch-rods in +pickle, or anything of that sort. Sister Agatha and Sister Catharine were given +rather to slappings, pinchings, and the vicious tweaking of ears. I have seen +Sister Agatha kick an orphan's bare toes, or his bare shin, with the toe of her +boot; and at such times she could throw a formidable amount of venom into two +or three words, spoken rather below than above the ordinary conversational +pitch of her voice. But ceremonial floggings were unknown at St. Peter's. And +indeed I can recall no breaches of discipline which seemed to demand any such +punishment.</p> + +<p>The most usual form of punishment was the docking of a meal. We fed at three +long tables, and sat upon forms. Meals were a fairly serious business, because +we were always hungry. A boy who was reported to the Sister-in-charge, say, for +some neglect of his work, would have his dinner stopped. In that case it would +be his unhappy lot to stand with his hands penitentially crossed upon his +chest, behind his place at table, while the rest of us wolfed our meal. By a +refinement which, at the time, seemed to me very uncalled for, the culprit had +to say grace, before and after the meal, aloud and separately from the rest of +us.</p> + +<p>There were occasions upon which we were one and all found wanting. Eggs had +been stolen, work had been badly done; something had happened for which no one +culprit could be singled out, and all were held to blame. Upon such an occasion +we were made to lay the dinner-tables as usual, and to wait upon the sisters at +their own table, and for the rest of an hour to stand to attention, with hands +crossed around the long tables. Then we cleared the tables and marched out to +work, each nursing the vacuum within him, where dinner should have been, and, +presumably, resolving to amend his wicked ways.</p> + +<p>Boys are, of course, curious creatures. I have said that we were always +hungry. I think we were. And yet the staple of our breakfast (which never +varied during the whole of my time there) was never once eaten by me, though I +was repeatedly punished for leaving it. The dish was 'skilly,' or porridge of a +kind, with which (except on the church's somewhat numerous fast-days) we were +given treacle. The treacle I would lap up greedily, but at the porridge my +gorge rose. I simply could not swallow it. Ordinary porridge I had always +rather liked, but this ropy mess was beyond me; and, hungry though I was, I +counted myself fortunate on those mornings when I was able to go empty away +from the breakfast-table without punishment for leaving this detestable skilly. +If Sister Agatha or Sister Catharine were on duty, it meant that I would have +at least one spoonful forced into my mouth and held there till cold sweat +bedewed my face. In addition there would be pinchings, slappings, and +ear-tweakings--very painful, these last. And sometimes I would be reported, and +docked of that day's dinner to boot. But Sister Mary would more often than not +pass me by without a glance at my bowl, and for that I was profoundly grateful. +In fact, I could almost have loved that good woman, but that she had a physical +affliction which nauseated me. Her breath caused me to shudder whenever she +approached me. She had a mild, cow-like eye, however, and I do not think I ever +saw her kick a boy.</p> + +<p>Yes, when I look back upon that queer chapter of my life, I am bound to +admit that, however much they may have neglected opportunities that were open +to them, as moulders of human clay, those four sisters did accomplish rather +wonderful results in ruling St. Peter's Orphanage, without any appeal to sheer +force of arms. There were young men among us, yet the sisters' rule was never +openly defied. I think the secret must have had to do chiefly with work and +food. We were never idle, we were always hungry, and we never had any +opportunities for relaxation. I never saw any kind of game played at the +Orphanage; and on Sundays devotions of one kind or another were made to fill +all intervals between the different necessary pieces of work, such as milking, +feeding stock, cleaning, and so forth.</p> + +<p>We began the day at five o'clock in the summer, and six in the winter, and +by eight at night all lights were out. We had lessons every day; and there, +oddly enough, in school, the cane was adjudged necessary, as an engine of +discipline, and used rather freely on our hands--hands, by the way, which were +apt at any time to be a good deal chipped and scratched, and otherwise knocked +about by our outdoor work. So far as I remember our schooling was of the most +primitive sort, and confined to reading aloud, writing from dictation, and +experimenting with the first four rules of arithmetic. History we did not +touch, but we had to memorise the names of certain continents, capitals, and +rivers, I remember.</p> + +<p>All this ought to have been the merest child's play for me; it certainly was +a childish form of study. But I did not appear to pick up the trick of it, and +I remember being told pretty frequently to 'Hold out your hand, Nicholas!' I +had a clumsy knack of injuring my finger-tips, and getting splinters into my +hands, in the course of outdoor work. The splinters produced little gatherings, +and I dare say this made penmanship awkward. I know it gave added terrors to +the canings, and, too, I thought it gave added zest to Sister Agatha's use of +that instrument in my case. Unfortunately for me Sister Agatha, and not the +mild-eyed Sister Mary, was the schoolmistress.</p> + +<p>It may be, of course, that I lay undue stress upon the painful or unpleasant +features of our life at the Orphanage, because I was unhappy there, and +detested the place. But certainly if I could recall any brighter aspects of the +life there I would set them down. I do not think there were any brighter +aspects for me, at all events. I not only had no pride in myself here; I took +shame in my lot.</p> + +<p>On the first Sunday in each month visitors were admitted. Any one at all +could come, and many local folk did come. They made it a kind of excursion. I +was glad that our devotions kept us a good deal out of the visitors' way, +because, especially at first, I had a fear of recognising among them some one +of the handful of people in Australia whom I might be said to have +known--fellow-passengers by the <em>Ariadne</em>. The thought of being +recognised as an 'inmate' by Nelly Fane was dreadful to me; and even more, I +fancy, I dreaded the mere idea of being seen by Fred-without-a-surname. I +pictured him grinning as he said: 'Hallo! you in this place? You an orphan, +then?' I think I should have slain him with my wood-chopping axe.</p> + +<p>On these visitors' days we all wore boots and clothes which were never seen +at other times. I hated mine most virulently, because they were not mine, but +had been worn by some other boy before they came to me. It was never given to +me to learn what became of the ample store of clothing I had on board the +<em>Livorno</em>. The sisters were exceedingly thorough in detail. On the +mornings of these visitors' Sundays, before going out to work, we 'dressed' our +beds. That is to say we were given sheets, and made to arrange them neatly upon +our beds. Before retiring at night we had to remove these sheets and refold +them with exact care, under the sister's watchful eyes, so that they might be +fresh and uncreased for next visitors' Sunday. We never saw them at any other +times. Our boots really were rather a trial. Running about barefoot all day +makes the feet swell and spread. It hardens them, certainly, but it makes the +use of boots, and especially of hard, ill-fitting boots, abominably painful.</p> + +<p>And with it all, having said that I detested the place and was unhappy +during all my time there, how is it I cannot leave the matter at that? For I +cannot. I do not feel that I have truly and fully stated the case. It is not +merely that I have made no attempt to follow my life there in detail. No such +exhaustive and exhausting record is needed. But I do desire to set down here +the essential facts of each phase in my life.</p> + +<p>I have referred already to the precociously developed trick I had of +savouring life as a spectator, of observing myself as a figure in an +illustrated romance--probably the hero. Now, as I am certain this habit was not +entirely dropped during my life at St. Peter's, I think one must argue that I +cannot have been entirely and uniformly unhappy there. Indeed, I am sure I was +not, because I can distinctly remember luxuriating in my sadness. I can +remember translating it into unspoken words, the while my head was cushioned in +the flank of a cow at milking time, describing myself and my forlorn estate as +an orphan and an 'inmate' to myself. And, without doubt, I derived satisfaction +from that. I can recall picturesquely vivid contrasts drawn in my mind between +Master Nicholas Freydon, as the playmate of Nelly Fane on the <em>Ariadne</em>, +and the son of the distinguished-looking Mr. Freydon whom every one admired, +and as the 'inmate' of St. Peter's, trudging to and fro among the other +orphans, with corns on the palms of his hands and bruises and scratches on his +bare legs and feet.</p> + +<p>And then when visitors were about: 'If they only knew,' 'If they could have +seen,' 'If I were to tell them'--such phrases formed the beginning of many +thoughts in my mind. I can remember endeavouring to mould my expression upon +such occasions to fit the part I consciously played; to adopt the look I +thought proper to the disinherited aristocrat, the gently-nurtured child now +outcast in the world, the orphan. Yes, I distinctly remember, when a visitor of +any parts at all was in sight, composing my features and attitude to suit the +orphan's part, as distinguished from that of the mere typical 'inmate,' who, +incidentally, was an orphan too. I found secret consolation in the conception +that however much I might be in St. Peter's Orphanage, I would never be wholly +of it--a real 'inmate' I remember, as I thought not unskilfully, scheming to +arouse Sister Mary's interest in me, as I had aroused the interest of other +people in myself on the <em>Ariadne</em> and elsewhere, and only relinquishing +my pursuit when baffled, upon contact, by the poor sister's physical infirmity +before-mentioned. I am bound to say that she made less response to my overtures +than that made by the cows I milked, who really did show some mild, bovine +preference for me.</p> + +<p>But there it is. In view of these things I cannot have been wholly unhappy, +for I remained a keenly interested observer of life, and of my own meanderings +on its stage. But I will say that I liked St. Peter's less than any other place +I had known, and that mentally, morally, emotionally, and spiritually, as well +as physically, I was rather starved there. The life of the place did arrest my +development in all ways, I think, and it may be that I have suffered always, to +some extent, from that period of insufficient nutrition of mind and body.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The custom of St. Peter's Orphanage was to allow farmers and local residents +generally to choose an orphan, as they might pick out a heifer or a colt from a +stockyard, and take him away for good--or ill. I believe the only stipulation +was that the orphan could not in any case be returned to St. Peter's. If the +selector found him to be a damaged or incomplete orphan, that was the +selector's own affair, and he had to put up with his bargain as best he might. +The person who chose an orphan in this way became responsible for the boy's +maintenance while boyhood lasted, and I believe it was not customary to send +out lads under the age of ten or twelve years. After a time the people who took +these lads into their service were, theoretically, supposed to allow them some +small wage, in addition to providing them with a home.</p> + +<p>It was rather a blow to my self-esteem, I remember, to see my companions +being removed from the institution one by one as time ran on, and to note that +nobody appeared to want me. I may have been somewhat less sturdy than the +average run of 'inmates,' but I think we were all on the spare and lean side. +It is possible, however, that in view of my father's legacy to St. Peter's, the +authorities felt it incumbent upon them to keep me. The departure of a boy +always had an unsettling effect upon me; and when, as happened now and again, +an ex-inmate paid us a visit on a Sunday, possibly with members of the family +with whom he worked, I was filled with yearning interest in the life of the +world outside our island farm and workshop.</p> + +<p>But these yearnings of mine were quite vague; mere amorphous emanations of +the mind, partaking of the nature of nostalgia, and giving birth to nothing in +the shape of plans, nor even of definite desires. Then, suddenly, this vague +uneasiness became the dominant factor in my daily life, as the result of one of +those apparently haphazard chances upon which human progress and development so +often seem to pivot.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon of a visitors' Sunday, as I was making my way down to +the milking-yard with a pail on either arm, my eyes fell upon the broad +shoulders of a man who was leaning contemplatively over the slip-rails of the +yard. The sight of those shoulders sent a thrill right through me; it touched +the marrow of my spine. I, who had thought myself the most forlorn and +friendless of orphans; I had a friend, and he was here before me. There was no +need to see his face. I knew those shoulders.</p> + +<p>'Ted!' I cried. And positively I had to exercise deliberate self-restraint +to prevent myself from rushing at our <em>Livorno</em> friend and factotum, and +flinging my arms about him, as in infantile days I had been wont to make +embracing leaps at Amelia from the kitchen table of the house off Russell +Square.</p> + +<p>'God spare me days! Is it you, then, chum?' exclaimed Ted, as he swung round +on his high heels. (In those days the Sunday rig of men like Ted Reilly +comprised much-polished, pointed-toe, elastic-side boots with very high heels, +and voluminously 'bell-bottomed' trousers.) I rattled questions at him, as peas +from a pea-shooter; and when I had laid aside my buckets he pumped away at my +right arm, as though providing water to put a fire out.</p> + +<p>It seemed he had only that week returned to the district, after a long spell +of wandering and desultory working in southern Queensland. No, he had not had +time yet to go out to the <em>Livorno</em>, and he had not heard of my father's +death--'Rest his soul for as good an' kindly a gentleman as ever walked!' And +so--'Spare me days!'--I was an orphan at St. Peter's! The queer thing it was he +had taken it into his head to be wandering that way, an' all, having nothing +else to do to pass the time, like! How I blessed the casual ways of the man, +the marked absence of 'Systum' in his character, that led him to make such +excursions! He squatted beside me on his heels, whilst I, fearing admonition +from above, got to work with my cows, and saw the rest of the milking gang +started.</p> + +<p>Passionate disappointment swept across my mind when I learned that he had +been several hours on the island before I saw him, and that it wanted now but +ten minutes to five o'clock, the hour at which the punt made its last trip with +visitors. And in almost the same moment joy shook and thrilled me as I realised +the romantic hazard of our meeting at all, which was accentuated really by the +narrowness of our margin of time. A matter of minutes and he would be gone. A +matter of minutes and I should never have seen him at all. But that could not +have been. I refused to contemplate a life at St. Peter's in which this +inestimable amelioration (now nearly five minutes old) played no part. The +hopeless emptiness of life at the Orphanage without a meeting with Ted was +something altogether too harrowing to be dwelt upon. It could not have been +borne.</p> + +<p>'You'll be here first thing next visitors' Sunday, Ted--first thing?' I +charged him, as he rose in response to the puntman's bell. 'I couldn't stand it +if you didn't come, Ted.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I'll come, right enough, chum. But that's a month. Why, spare me days, +surely I---'</p> + +<p>'You'll have to go, Ted. That's his last ring. Sister Agatha's looking. +Don't seem to take much notice o' me, Ted, or she might-- Oh, good-bye, Ted! +Don't seem to be noticing. Good-bye, good-bye!'</p> + +<p>My head was back in the cow's flank now, and very hot tears were running +down my cheeks and into the milk-pail. My lip was cut under my front teeth, +and--'Oh, Ted, first thing in the morning--don't forget the Sunday,' I +implored, as he passed away, drawing one hand caressingly across my shoulder as +he went.</p> + +<p>In a hazy, golden dream I finished my milking, staggering and swaying up to +the dairy under my two brimming pails, and turned to the remaining tasks of the +evening, longing for bed-time and liberty to review my amazing good fortune in +privacy; thirsting for it, as a tippler for his liquor. I dared not think about +it at all before bed-time. In some recondite way it seemed that would have been +indecent, an exposure of my new treasure to the vulgar gaze. Now, it was +securely locked away inside me, absolutely hidden. And there it must remain +until, lights being doused, I could draw it out under the friendly cover of my +coarse bed-clothes (after visiting-day sheets had been removed) and +voluptuously abandon myself to it. Meantime, I moved among my fellows as one +having possession of a talisman which raised him far above the cares and +preoccupations of the common herd. I even looked forward with pleasure to the +next day, to Monday! I should have no breakfast. Sister Agatha would be on +duty. I should be pestered, and probably robbed of dinner, too. But what of +that? The coming of that cheerless and hungry Monday would carry me forward one +whole day toward the next visitors' Sunday, and--Ted.</p> + +<p>I had not begun yet to consider in any way the question of how seeing Ted +could help me. Enough for me that I had seen him; that I had a friend; and that +I should see him again. Indeed, even if I had had no hope of seeing him again, +I still should have been thrilled through and through by the delicious +kindliness, the romantic interest of the thought that, out there in the world +beyond Myall Creek, I had a friend; a free and powerful man, moving about +independently among the citizens of the great world, in which Sister Agatha was +a mere nobody; in which all sorts of delightful things continually happened, in +which task work was no more than one incident in a daily round compact of other +interests, hazards, meetings, and--and of freedom.</p> + +<p>It was extraordinary the manner in which ten minutes in the society of a +man, who would have been adjudged by many most uninspiring, had transformed me. +It seemed the mere sight of this simple bushman, in his 'bell-bottomed' Sunday +trousers, had lifted me up from a slough of hopeless inertia to a plane upon +which life was a master musician, and all my veins the strings from which he +drew his magic melodies.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>A week passed, and brought us to another Sunday. On this morning I stepped +out of bed into the dimness of the dawn light, full of elation.</p> + +<p>'It's only seven weeks now to next visitors' day. In seven weeks I shall see +Ted again. Seven times seven days--why, it's nothing, really,' I told +myself.</p> + +<p>By this time I had devised a plan for helping Time on his way. It hardly +commends itself to my mature judgment, but great satisfaction was derived from +it at the time. It consisted merely of telling myself in so many words that a +month comprised eight weeks. Thus, ostensibly, I had seven weeks to wait. But +my secret self knew that the reality was incredibly better than that. Next +Sunday, outwardly, I should have only six weeks to wait, the following Sunday +only five. And then, a week later, with only a paltry four weeks to wait, my +secret self would be thrilling with the knowledge that actually the day itself +had come, and only an hour or so divided me from Ted. Childish, perhaps, but it +comforted me greatly; and, to some extent, I have indulged the practice through +life. With a mile to walk when tired, I have caught myself, even quite late in +life, comforting myself with the absurd assurance that another 'couple of +miles' would bring me to my destination! To the naturally sanguine temperament +this particular folly would be impossible, though its antithesis is pretty +frequently indulged in, I fancy.</p> + +<p>And so it was while going about my various duties, nursing the pretence that +in seven more weeks I should see my friend again, that I came face to face with +the man himself; then, after no more than one little week of waiting, and when +no visitors at all were due. I gasped. Ted grinned cordially. Sister Mary was +on duty. Ted showed her a note from Father O'Malley, and she nodded amiably. +Thrice blessed goddess! Her fat, white face took on angelic qualities in my +eyes. One little movement of her hooded head, and I was wafted from purgatory, +not into heaven, but into a place which seemed to me more attractive, into the +freedom of the outside world--Ted's world. Not that I was permitted to leave +the island, but, until the time for evening milking, I was allowed to walk +about the farm and talk at ease with Ted. By a further miracle of the goddess's +complaisance I was permitted to ignore the Orphanage dinner that day, and +intoxicate myself with Ted upon sandwiches and cakes and ginger-beer. That was +a banquet, if you like!</p> + +<p>It seemed that Father O'Malley was quite well disposed toward Ted, and had +even allowed him to make a little contribution (which he could ill spare) to +the Orphanage funds. With what seemed to me transcendent audacity Ted had +actually tried to adopt me, to take me into his service, as neighbouring +farmers took other orphans from St. Peter's. This had been firmly but quite +pleasantly declined; but Ted had been given permission to come and see me +whenever he liked, on Sundays--upon any Sunday. I could have hugged the man. +His achievement seemed to me little short of miraculous. I figured Ted +manipulating threads by which nations are governed. To be able to bend to one's +will august administrators, people like Father O'Malley! Truly, the world +outside St. Peter's was a wondrous place, and the life of its free citizens a +thing most delectable.</p> + +<p>We talked, but how we did talk, all through that sunny, windy Sunday! (A +bright, dry westerly had been blowing for several days.) I gathered that Ted +was in his customary condition of impecuniosity, and that, much against his +inclination, it would be necessary for him to take a job somewhere before many +days had passed; or else--and I saw, with a pang of desolate regret, that his +own feeling favoured the alternative--to pack his swag and be off 'on the +wallaby'; on the tramp, that is, putting in an occasional day's work, where +this might offer, and sleeping in the bush. He was a born nomad. Even I had +realised this. And he liked no other life so well as that of the 'traveller,' +which, in Australia, does not mean either a bagman or a tourist, but rather one +who strolls through life carrying all his belongings on his back, working but +very occasionally, and camping in a fresh spot every night.</p> + +<p>It required no great penetration upon Ted's part to see that I was weary of +St. Peter's. (My first day at the Orphanage had brought me to that stage.)</p> + +<p>'Look here, mate,' he said, late in the afternoon. 'I've got pretty near +thirty bob left, and a real good swag. Why not come with me, an' we'll swag it +outer this into Queensland?'</p> + +<p>I drew a quick breath. It was an attractive offer for a boy in my position. +But even then there was more of prudence and foresight in me, or possibly less +of reckless courage and less of the born nomad, than Ted had.</p> + +<p>'But how could I get away?'</p> + +<p>'You can swim,' said Ted. 'I'd be waiting for ye at the wharf. We'd be outer +reach by daybreak.'</p> + +<p>'And then, Ted, how should we live?' My superior prudence questioned him. I +take it the difference in our upbringing and tradition spoke here.</p> + +<p>'Live! why, how does any one live on the wallaby? It's never hard to get a +day's work, if ye want a few bob. Up in the station country they never refuse a +man rations, anyway; it's in the town the trouble is. I've never gone short, +travelling.'</p> + +<p>'I don't think I'd like begging for meals, Ted,' I said musingly. And in a +moment I was wishing with all my heart I could withdraw the words. It seemed +that, for the first time in all our acquaintance, I had hurt and offended this +simple, good-hearted fellow.</p> + +<p>'Beggin', is it?' he cried, very visibly ruffled. 'I'd be sorry to ask ye +to, for it's what I've never done in me life, an' never would. Would ye call a +man a beggar for takin' a ration or a bitter 'baccy from a station store? Why, +doesn't every traveller do the same? An', for that matter, can't a man always +put in a day's work, gettin' firewood or what not, if he's a mind to? Ye +needn't fear Ted Reilly'll ever come to beggin'!'</p> + +<p>In my eager anxiety to placate my only friend I almost accepted his offer. +But not quite. Some little inherited difference held me back, perhaps. I +wonder! At all events, the thing was dropped between us for the time; and, +before he left, Ted promised he would tackle a bit of work a Myall Creek farmer +had offered him--to clear a bush paddock of burrajong fern, which had poisoned +some cattle. Thus, he would be able to come and see me again on the following +Sunday. On that we parted; and, before I was half way through my milking, fear +and regret oppressed me as with a physical nausea; fear that I might have lost +my only friend, regret that I had not accepted his offer, and so won to freedom +and the big world outside St. Peter's.</p> + +<p>The night that followed was one of the most unhappy spent by me at St. +Peter's. My prudence appeared to me the merest poltroonery, my remark about +'begging' the most finicking absurdity, my failure to accept Ted's offer the +most reckless and offensive stupidity. Evidently I was unworthy of any better +lot than I had. I should live and die an 'inmate' and a drudge. I deserved +nothing else. In short, I was a very despicable lad, had probably lost the only +friend I should ever have, and, certainly, I was very miserable.</p> + +<p>Monday brought some softening (helped by the fact that Sister Mary was on +duty at breakfast-time, so that I escaped the addition of punishment to +hunger), and, as the week wore slowly by, hope rose in my breast once more, and +with it a return of what I now regard as the common-sense prescience which made +me hesitate to adopt a swagman's life. I could not honestly say that I had any +definite ideas as to another and more reputable sort of occupation or career. +As yet, I had not. But I did vaguely feel that there would be derogation in +becoming what my father would have called a 'tramp.'</p> + +<p>My father's memory, the question of what he would have thought of it, +affected my attitude materially. He had accepted it as axiomatic, I thought, +that his son must be a gentleman. My present lot as an 'inmate' of St. Peter's +hardly seemed to fit the axiom, somehow; and Ted, whatever I might think or say +about 'beggin'' or the like, was all the friend I had or seemed likely to have, +and a really good fellow at that. But withal a certain stubbornly resistant +quality in me asserted that there would be a downward step for me, though not +for Ted, or for any of my fellow orphans, in taking to the road; that the step +might prove irrevocable, and that I ought not to take it. I dare say there was +something of the snob in me. Anyhow, that was how I felt about it. Also, I +remember deriving a certain comically stern sort of satisfaction from +contemplation of the spectacle of myself, alone, unaided, declining to stoop, +even though stooping should bring me freedom from the Orphanage! Yes, there was +a certain egotistical satisfaction in that thought.</p> + +<p>Ted came to see me again on the next Sunday, but our day was far less cheery +than its predecessor had been. We were good friends still, but there was a +subtle constraint between us, as was proved by the fact that Ted did not again +mention the suggestion of my taking to the road with him. Also, Ted was for the +moment a wage-earner, working during fixed and regular hours for an employer; +and I knew he hated that. In such case he felt as one of the mountain-bred +brumbies (wild horses) of that countryside might be supposed to feel, when +caught, branded, and forced between shafts.</p> + +<p>On the following Sunday Ted's downcast constraint was much more pronounced, +and I saw plainly that my Sabbath visitor was on the eve of a breakaway. The +name of the farmer for whom he had been working was Mannasseh Ford, and, having +such a name, the man was always spoken of in just that way.</p> + +<p>'I pretty near bruk my back finishing Mannasseh Ford's paddick last night,' +explained Ted moodily. 'There was three days' fair work left in it when I got +there in the morning. But I meant gettin' shut of it, an' I did. Mannasseh Ford +opened his eyes pretty wide when I called up for me money las' night, an' he +looked over the paddick. Wanted to take me on regler, he did; pounder week an' +all found, he said. I thanked him kindly, him an' his pounder week! Well, he +said he'd make it twenty-five shillin', an' I thanked him for that.'</p> + +<p>Thanks clearly meant refusal with Ted, and I confess he rose higher in my +esteem somehow, for the fact that he could actually refuse what to me seemed +like wealth. I recalled the fact that my father had paid Ted exactly half this +amount, and had found him quite willing to stay with us for half that again, or +even for occasional tobacco money. Perhaps there was a mercenary vein in me at +the time. I think it likely. The talk of my fellow orphans was largely of +wages, and materialism dominated the atmosphere in which I lived. I know this +refusal of twenty-five shillings a week and 'all found' struck me as tolerably +reckless; splendid, in a way, but somewhat foolhardy, and I hinted as much to +Ted.</p> + +<p>'Och, bother him an' his twenty-five shillin'!' said Ted. 'Just because I +cleared his old paddick, he thinks I'm a workin' bullick. He offered me thirty +shillin' after, if ye come to that; an' I told him he hadn't money enough in +the bank to keep me. Neither has he.'</p> + +<p>'But, Ted,' I urged, 'why not? It's good money, and you've got to work +somewhere.'</p> + +<p>'Aye,' said Ted, his constraint lifting for a moment to admit the right +vagabondish twinkle into his blue eyes. 'Somewhere! An' sometimes. But not +there, mate, an' not all the time, thank ye; not me. It's all right for +Mannasseh Ford; but, spare me days, I'd sooner be in me grave.'</p> + +<p>I pondered this for a time, while a voice within me kept on repeating with +sickening certainty: 'He's going away; he's going away. You've lost your +friend; you've lost your friend.' And then, as one thrusts a foot into cold +water before taking a plunge: 'Well, then, what shall you do, Ted?' I asked +him. But, for the moment, I was not to have the plunge.</p> + +<p>'Oh, if ye come to that,' he said, weakly smiling, 'I've money in hand, an' +to spare. Look at the wealth o' me.' And he drew out for my edification a +little bundle of greasy one-pound notes, which, for me, certainly had a very +substantial look. I knew instinctively that my friend wanted me to help him out +by pursuing the inquiry; but for the time I shirked it, and we talked of other +things. Later in the day I returned to it, as a moth to a candle, undeterred, +partly impelled thereto, in fact, by the assured foreknowledge that the process +would hurt.</p> + +<p>'But what will you do, Ted, now you've given up Mannasseh Ford? Will you +take another job round the Creek here, or----'</p> + +<p>I paused, scanning my only friend's face, and seeing my loss of him writ +plainly in his downcast eyes and half-shamed expression. (I am not sure but +what there may have been more of the human boy, the child, in Ted, than in +myself.)</p> + +<p>'Oh, well, mate,' he said haltingly, and then stopped altogether. He was +drawing an intricate pattern in the dust with the blade of his pen-knife, a +favourite pastime with bushmen. The pause was pregnant. At last he looked up +with a toss of his head. 'Oh, come on, mate,' he said impatiently. 'Swim across +to-night, an' we'll beat up Queensland way. I tell ye, travellin' 's fine. +Ye've got no boss to say do this an' that. You goes y'r own way at y'r own +gait. Ye'd better come.'</p> + +<p>'So you'll go, Ted. I knew you would,' I said, musing in my rather +old-fashioned way. It seems a smallish matter enough now; but I know that at +the time I was conscious of making a momentous sacrifice, of taking a step of +epoch-making significance. Somehow, the very greatness of the sacrifice made me +the more determined about it. I should lose my only friend, a devastating loss; +and the more clearly I realised how naked this loss would leave me, the more +convinced I felt that my decision was right. There is, of course, a kind of +gluttony in self-denial; one's appetite for sacrifice, and particularly in +youth, may be undeniably avid.</p> + +<p>'Well, I did try to stop,' he muttered, almost sullenly for him. And then, +with that toss of his head, and the glimmering of a frank smile: 'But I can't +stick it. Humpin' a swag's about all I'm fit for, I reckon. You're right, too, +it's no game for your father's son.' And here his kindly face lost all trace of +anything but friendliness. 'Only, what beats me is what in the world else can +ye do, mewed up in this--this blessed work'us. That's what has me beat.'</p> + +<p>The crisis was passed, and with it the last of Ted's shamefaced constraint. +It was admitted between us that he must be off again to his wandering, and that +I must stay behind. And now Ted had no thought for anything but my welfare. +There was no more awkwardness between us, but only the warmth of this good +fellow's real affection, and the almost agreeable melancholy and self-righteous +consciousness of wise denial which possessed me. Ted fumbled under his coat +with a packet of some food he had brought me: 'Spare me days, the cats might +give a lad a bit o' bread to his breakfast--drat 'em!'--and, finally pressed it +into my hands, with injunctions to be careful in opening it, as he had put a +scrap of writing in with it, for me to remember him by.</p> + +<p>And so we parted, with no shadow on our friendship, on the track down to the +punt.</p> + +<p>But though my friend was gone, after these three Sunday visits, and I was +alone again, the influence of his coming remained. I should not revert to the +unhoping inertia of my previous state. Some instinct told me that. And the +instinct was right. My curiosity had been too fully roused. My relationship to +the world of people outside St. Peter's had been definitely re-established by +the kindly, rather childlike, bushman, and would not again be allowed to lapse. +The mere talk of swimming to the wharf, of cutting the painter, of walking +forth into the real world which was not ruled by a Sister-in-charge--all this +had wrought a permanent change in me.</p> + +<p>The 'scrap of writin'' fumblingly inserted into the packet of cakes was no +writing of Ted's, but a crumpled, greasy one-pound Bank of New South Wales +note; one of his little store, useless to me at St. Peter's--yes; but, even as +my eyes pricked to the emotion of gratitude, some inner consciousness told me +my friend's gift would yet prove of very real use to me outside the Orphanage, +one day. And, before Ted came, I had been unable to descry any future outside +the Orphanage.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I do not remember the exact period that elapsed between Ted's departure and +the visit of the artist, Mr. Rawlence. But it must have been early winter when +Ted was at Myall Creek, because my fifteenth birthday fell at about that time; +and it was spring when Mr. Rawlence came, for I know the wattle was in bloom +then. Very likely it was in August or September, three or four months after +Ted's departure. At all events my mind was still much occupied by thoughts of +the outside world and of my future.</p> + +<p>Some one had told me that a Sydney artist, a Mr. Rawlence, had permission to +land on the island, as he wished to sketch there. But he had not been much +about the house or the yards, and I had not seen him. And then, one late +afternoon, when I had arrived at the milking-yards a few minutes before the +others of the milking gang, I stood with two pails in my right hand, leaning +over the slip-rails at the very spot upon which I had caught my first glimpse +of Ted at St. Peter's. I was thinking of that Sunday when I had recognised his +broad shoulders, and recalling the thrill that recognition had brought me.</p> + +<p>The romantic hazardousness of life had for some considerable time now made +its appeal felt by me. It seemed infinitely curious and interesting to me that +I and my father ever should have known Ted intimately, as one who shared our +curious life on the <em>Livorno</em>; Ted who was born and bred there in +Werrina; we who came there across thousands of miles of ocean from the world's +far side, from Putney, from places whose names Ted had never heard. And then +that I should have walked down to that milking-yard with my pails, and, so to +say, stumbled upon Ted, after his long wanderings in Queensland, where at this +moment he was probably wandering again, hundreds of miles away and, possibly, +thinking of me, of that same milking-yard, of these identical slip-rails and +splintery grey fence. A wonderful and mysterious business, this life in the +great world, I thought; and with that I threw up my left hand to lift the rails +down.</p> + +<p>'Oh, hold on! Don't move! Stay as you were a minute!'</p> + +<p>I jumped half out of my skin as these words, apparently spoken in my very +ear, reached me; and, wheeling abruptly round, I saw a man wearing a very large +grey felt hat, and holding pencils and a paper block in his hands, peering at +me from a little wooded hummock at the end of the cowshed. The skin about his +eyes was all puckered up, he held a pencil cross-wise between his white teeth, +and was shaking his head from side to side as though very much put about over +something.</p> + +<p>'What a pity! It's gone now,' he said, as he strode down the slope towards +me.</p> + +<p>He clearly was disappointed about something; but yet I thought that never +since the days when my father was with me had I heard any one speak more +pleasantly, or seen any one smile in kindlier fashion. Later, I realised that +no one I had met since my father's death possessed anything resembling the sort +of manner, address, intonation, or mental attitude of this Mr. Rawlence. I had +no theories then about social divisions, and the like; but here, I thought, was +a man who would find nobody in the district having anything in common with +himself. By the same token, I thought, had my father been alive this newcomer +would have recognised a possible companion in him. And, finally, as Mr. +Rawlence came to a standstill before me, this absurd reflection flitted through +my mind:</p> + +<p>'If he only knew it, there's me! But he will never know--how could he?'</p> + +<p>The absurd vanity and audacity of the thought made me blush like a bashful +schoolgirl. The ridiculous pretentiousness of the thought that in me, the +'inmate' of St. Peter's, this splendid person could find a companion, impressed +me now so painfully that I felt it must be plainly visible; that the visitor +must see and be scornfully amused by it. Yet, with really extraordinary +cordiality, he was holding out his right hand in salutation. Here again my +awkwardness made me bungle. What he meant by his gesture I could not think. +Some amusing trick, perhaps. It did not occur to me in that moment of +self-abasement that he wished to shake an 'inmate's' hand.</p> + +<p>'Won't you shake?' he asked, with that smile of his--so unlike any +expression one saw on folks' faces at St. Peter's.</p> + +<p>'I beg your pardon,' I faltered, and gave him a limp hand, reviling myself +inwardly for conduct which I felt would utterly and for ever condemn me in this +gentleman's eyes. 'Of course,' I told myself, 'he'll be thinking: "What can one +expect from these unfortunate inmates--friendless orphans, living on charity?"' +As a fact, I suppose no man's demeanour could have been less suggestive of any +such uncharitable thought.</p> + +<p>'I suspect you thought it like my cheek, yelling at you like that. The fact +is, I had just begun to sketch you. See!'</p> + +<p>He showed me his sketch-block, upon which I saw in outline the figure of a +boy carrying pails and leaning over a fence. What chiefly caught my eye in this +was the reproduction of my absurd trousers, one torn leg reaching midway down +the calf, the other in jagged scallops about my knee. He might have idealised +my rags a little, I thought, in my ignorance. No doubt I had been better +pleased if Mr. Rawlence had endowed me in the sketch with the dress of, say, a +smart clerk. And, apart from the artistic aspect, the man who would sniff at +this as evidence of contemptible snobbishness in me, would take a more lenient +view, perhaps, if he had ever spent a year or two in an orphanage like St. +Peter's.</p> + +<p>'It has the makings of quite a good little character study, I fancy. Later +on, when you're free--perhaps, to-morrow--I'll get you to give me half an hour, +if you will, to make a real sketch of it.'</p> + +<p>It was in my mind that if only I could make a remark of the right kind I +might immediately differentiate myself in this artist's eyes from the general +run of 'inmates.' This again may have been an unworthy and snobbish thought, +but I know it was mine at the time, based in my mind upon the unvoiced but +profound conviction that I was different in essence from the other orphans. +This was not mere conceit, I think, because it emanated rather from pride in my +father than from any exalted opinion of myself. But, whatever the rights of it, +no suitable remark came to me. Indeed, beyond an incoherent mumble over the +hand-shaking, I might have been a mute for all the part I had so far taken in +this interview. And just then I caught a glimpse of Sister Agatha emerging from +behind the wood-stack at the end of the vegetable garden, and that gave me +something else to think about.</p> + +<p>'Excuse me!' I said, angrily conscious that I was flushing again and that +all my limbs were in my way, and that I was presenting a most uncouth +appearance. 'I must get on with the milking.' And then I made my plunge. +'Perhaps you would speak to Sister-in-charge. Not this one here, but +Sister-in-charge,' I hurriedly added as Sister Agatha drew nearer, her thin +lips tightly compressed, her gimlet eyes full of promise of ear-tweakings. 'She +would perhaps give me leave to--to do anything you wanted. I--I am sure she +would. Good-bye!'</p> + +<p>Having hurriedly fired this last shot, I bolted into the milking-shed. Just +for an instant I had succeeded in meeting Mr. Rawlence's eye. I had very much +wanted to show him something, as, for example, that I would gladly do anything +he liked, even to the extent of allowing him to trample all over me--if only I +had been a free agent. In some way I had longed to claim kinship with him, in a +humble fashion; to say that I understood him and his kind, despite my ragged +trousers and scarred, dusty bare feet. Now, with a pail between my knees, and +my head in a cow's flank, I was very sure I had utterly failed to convey +anything, except that I was an uncouth creature. My eyes smarted from +mortification; and the grotesque thought crossed my mind that if only I had had +a photograph of my father, and could have shown it to Mr. Rawlence, the +position would have been quite different! I suppose I must have been a rather +fatuous youth. Also, I was obsessed to the point of mania by the determination +not to become a veritable 'inmate' of St. Peter's, like my fellows there, +however long I might be condemned to live in the place.</p> + +<p>During the next three days I was greatly depressed by the fact that I never +caught a glimpse of the artist anywhere. In fact, it was said that he had gone +away from Myall Creek altogether. And then, greatly to my secret joy, the +Sister-in-charge sent for me one morning and said:</p> + +<p>'There is an artist gentleman coming here, Mr. Rawlence. You are to do +whatever he tells you, and carry his things for him while he is here. Be +careful now. I have word from Father O'Malley about this. Be sure you don't +neglect your milking. You can tell the gentleman when you have to go to that. +You can do some wood-chopping after tea, if he should want you in your chopping +time. Run along now, and go over in the punt with Tim when he goes to meet the +gentleman.'</p> + +<p>It would seem the good-will of the Great Powers had once more been invoked +in connection with me; and I learned afterwards that Mr. Rawlence had not left +the district, but had been staying in Werrina for a few days. While there, no +doubt, he had met Father O'Malley, and very casually, I dare say, had mentioned +his fancy for sketching me. At the time these trivial events stirred me deeply. +That Father O'Malley should have been approached seemed to me a fact of high +portent. If only I had had a portrait of my father!</p> + +<p>As Destiny ruled it, Mr. Rawlence spent but the one day at St. Peter's, in +place of the enthralling vista of days, each of more romantic interest than its +predecessor, of which I had dreamed. He had news demanding his return to +Sydney; and, as he said, he ought not to have come out to St. Peter's even for +this one day. But he wanted to complete his sketch. So that, in a sense, he +really came to see me again. This radiant being's swift and important movements +in the great world outside the Orphanage were directly influenced by me. It was +a stirring thought, and went some way toward compensating me for the shattered +vista of many days spent in leisurely attendance upon the man belonging to my +father's order. It was thus I thought of him.</p> + +<p>I cannot of course recall every word spoken and every little event of that +momentous day, and it would serve no useful purpose if I could. It was +important for me, less by reason of anything remarkable in itself, than by +virtue of what was going on in my own mind while I posed for Mr. Rawlence +(possibly in more senses than one) and subsequently carried his paraphernalia +for him, showed him his way about the island, and generally attended upon him. +I had hoped that he would question me about my life before coming to St. +Peter's, and he did. By this time I was at my ease with him, and I think I told +my brief story intelligently. In any case, I interested him; so much I saw +clearly and with satisfaction. I noted, too, that he was impressed by the name +of the London newspaper with which my father had been connected before his +determination to seek peace in the wilds.</p> + +<p>'H'm!' 'Ah!' 'Strange!' 'A recluse indeed!' 'And you think he had never seen +this--St. Peter's, that is, when he wrote the letter arranging for you to come +here? Well, to be sure, there was little choice, of course, little choice +enough, and in such a lonely, isolated place.'</p> + +<p>I remember these among his exclamations and comments upon my story. And then +he asked me what ideas I had about my future, and I told him, none. I also told +him of Ted's visit and of his offer to me, and my refusal of it.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said, 'that was wise of you, I think; that certainly was best. In +some countries now, in the Old World, one might advise you to stick to the +country. But here-- Well, you know, there must be some real reason for the +rapid growth of the Australian capital cities, and the comparative stagnation +of the countryside. The more cultured people won't leave the capitals, and that +affects country life. Yes, but why won't they leave the cities? They do in the +Old World, for I've met 'em in the villages and country towns there. But why is +it?'</p> + +<p>Mr. Rawlence could hardly have expected an answer from me; but part of his +charm was that he made it seem, while he talked and I listened, that we were +jointly discussing the subject of his monologue, and that he was much +interested by my views. He had that air; his smile and his manner made one feel +that.</p> + +<p>'Well, you know,' he continued, 'it must be partly the crude material +difficulties which the actual and physical conditions of country life here +present to educated people, and partly the fact that our country in Australia +has got no traditions, no associations, no atmosphere. It is just a negation, a +wilderness; not a rural civilisation, but a mere gap in civilisation. +Pioneering is picturesque enough--in fiction. In fact, it permits of no leisure +and no idealisation; and without those things----'</p> + +<p>Mr. Rawlence paused with outstretched hands, shrugging shoulders, and the +smile of one who should say--'You understand, of course.' My modest +contribution was in three words, delivered with emphatic gestures of +acquiescence--'That's just it.'</p> + +<p>'Exactly,' resumed the artist. 'Without leisure, without time for anything +outside the material things of life, where is your culture? Where is art? Where +is romance? Where, in short, is civilisation? And so, as I say, I cannot advise +you to stick to the country here. No, one really can't conscientiously advise +that, you know.'</p> + +<p>A listener might fairly have supposed that I was a young gentleman of means +who had sought advice as to the desirability of investing capital in rural New +South Wales, and taking up, say, the pastoral life, in preference to a +professional career in Sydney. I pinched my knees exultingly; perhaps to +demonstrate to myself the fact that all this was no dream. It was I, the +orphan, who was carrying on this thrilling conversation with an accomplished +man of the world, a distinguished artist. I felt that Mr. Rawlence must clearly +be a distinguished artist.</p> + +<p>'And so what--what would you advise me to do?' I asked when a pause came. +And, immediately, I reproached myself, feeling that I had broken a delightful +spell, and risked abruptly ending the most interesting conversation in which I +ever took part. The words of my question had so crude a sound. They dragged our +talk down to a lower plane, to a plane merely utilitarian, almost squalid by +comparison with the roseate heights we had been easily skimming. That was how +the sound of my own poor words struck me; but my companion was not so easily +dashed. My crudity could not fret his accomplished <em>savoir-faire</em>. (Mr. +Rawlence impressed me as the most finished man of the world I had ever met, +with the single exception of my father; and, indeed, the Sydney artist did +shine brightly beside the sort of people I had lived among of late.)</p> + +<p>'Well,' he said, with smiling thoughtfulness, 'I would advise you, +when--when the time comes, to make your way to Sydney, and to--to work up a +place for yourself there. Of course, there is your native country--England. Who +knows? Some day, perhaps-- But, meantime, I think Sydney offers better chances +than any other place in this country. Yes, I think so. Have you any special +leanings? Is there any particular work that you are specially keen on?'</p> + +<p>Like a flash the thought passed through my mind: 'What a miserable creature +I must be! There's nothing I particularly want to do. If he finds that out, +there's an end to any interest in me, of course. Why haven't I thought of this +before? What can I say?' And in the same moment, without appreciable pause, I +was startled, but agreeably startled, to hear my own voice saying in quite an +intelligent way: 'Well, my father wrote, of course; his work was literary work, +and--newspapers, you know.'</p> + +<p>I can answer for it that I had never till that moment given a single thought +to any such notion as a literary career for myself. As well think of a prime +minister's career, I should have thought. But, as I well remember, my very +accent, intonation, and choice of words had all insensibly changed to fit, as I +thought, the taste and habit of my new friend. And I felt it would be an +extravagant folly to talk to him as I had talked with Ted, or as I talked with +fellow orphans at St. Peter's, of 'pound-er-week-an'-all-found' jobs, or the +'good money' there was 'in carting,' or the fine careers that offered in +connection with the construction of new railways. I had often been told you +could not beat the job of cooking for a shearers' or a navvies' camp; and that +a wideawake boy could earn 'good money' while learning it, as a rouseabout +assistant. It seemed to me that there would have been something too absurdly +incongruous in attempting to talk of such things to Mr. Rawlence. Hence, +perhaps, my audacious suggestion of the literary career. There I might secure +his interest. And, sure enough, I did.</p> + +<p>'Ah! to be sure, to be sure,' he said, nodding encouragingly. 'Well, with +that in view, Sydney is practically the only place, you know. Mind you, I don't +say it's easy, or that one could hope to make headway quickly; but gradually, +gradually, a fellow could feel his way there, if anywhere in the colony. It is +undoubtedly our centre of art and literature, and culture generally. At first +you might have to do quite different sort of work; but, while doing it, you +know, you could be always on the lookout, always feeling your way to better +things. Sydney is, at all events, a capital city, you see. There is society in +Sydney, in a metropolitan sense. There is culture. One is continually meeting +interesting people who are doing interesting things. It's not Paris or London, +you know, but----'</p> + +<p>He had a trick of using a radiant smile in place of articulation, by way of +finishing a sentence; and I found it more eloquent than any words, and, to me, +more subtly flattering. It said so clearly, and more tactfully than words: 'But +you follow me, I see; I know <em>you</em> understand me.' And I felt with rare +delight that I could and did follow this fascinating man, and understand all +his airy allusions to things as far beyond the purview of my present life and +prospect as the heavens are beyond the earth, or as Mr. Rawlence was above an +'inmate' of St. Peter's. To a twentieth-century English artist, Mr. Rawlence +might have seemed a shade crude, possibly rather pompous and affected, somewhat +jejune and trite, perhaps. But our talk took place in the 'seventies of last +century, in New South Wales. The Board School was a new invention in England, +and in Australia there was quite a lot of bushranging still to come, and the +arrival of transported convicts had but recently ceased.</p> + +<p>I have not attempted to set down anything like the whole of the talk between +the artist and myself; rather, to indicate its quality. Much of it, I dare say, +was trivial, and all of it would appear so in written form. Its effect upon me +was altogether out of proportion to its real significance, no doubt. It was all +new talk to me, but I admit it is not easy now to understand its profoundly +stirring and inspiring influence. A casual phrase or two, for example, affected +my thoughts for long months afterwards. Mr. Rawlence said:</p> + +<p>'There's an accomplishment coming into general use now that might help you +enormously: phonography, shorthand-writing, you know. I am told it will mean a +revolution in ordinary clerical work, and newspaper work already rests largely +on it. The man who can write a hundred words a minute--I think that's about +what they manage with it--will command a good post in any office, or on any +newspaper, I should think. I should certainly learn shorthand, if I were you. +Perhaps you could get them to introduce it here.'</p> + +<p>I thought of Sister Agatha, and pictured myself suggesting to her the +introduction of shorthand into our curriculum in the Orphanage school. And at +the same moment I recalled the occasions, only yesterday, upon which I had had +to 'hold out' my hand to this bitterly enthusiastic wielder of the cane. My +palms had purple weals on them at that moment, tough though they were from +outdoor work. I clenched my hands involuntarily, and was thankful the artist +could not see their palms. That would have been a horrid humiliation; the very +thought of it made me flush. No, this shorthand would hardly be introduced at +St. Peter's; but I would learn it, I thought, all the same; and in due course I +did, to find (again in due course) that even the acquisition of this mystery +hardly represented quite the infallible key to fame and fortune that Mr. +Rawlence thought it in the 'seventies.</p> + +<p>But my attitude toward this sufficiently casual suggestion was typical of +the immensely stirring and impressive influence which all the artist's talk of +that day had upon me. It was undoubtedly most kindly of him to show all the +interest he did in one from whom he could not by any stretch of the imagination +be said to have anything to gain. We were quite old friends, he said, in his +amiable way, by the time evening approached, and we began to pack up his +paraphernalia. My crowning triumph came when, in leaving, he gave me his card, +and wrote my full name down in his dainty little pocket-book.</p> + +<p>'When you do get to Sydney you must come and look me up without fail. My +studio is at the address on the card, and I'm generally to be found there. +Mind, I shall expect a call as soon as you arrive, and we will talk things +over. I'm certain you'll reach Sydney, by and by. Like London, at home, you +know, it's the magnet for all the ambitious here. Good-bye, and best of good +luck!'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Charles Frederick Rawlence, Filson's House, Macquarie Street, Sydney,' +was what I read on the card. And then, in very small type in one corner, +'Studio, 3rd Floor.'</p> + +<p>I think it had been the most vividly exciting day in my life up till then; +and, though still an orphan, and officially an 'inmate,' I walked among the +clouds that night; a giant among dwarfs and slaves by my way of it. Youth--aye, +the immemorial magic of it was alive in my blood on this spring night, if you +like; and not all the Sister Agathas in all the hierarchy of Rome had power to +dull the wonder of it!</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>'If it's to be done at all, why not now? There's nothing to be gained by +waiting. I'm only wasting time.'</p> + +<p>Phrases of this sort formed the burden of all my thoughts for a number of +weeks after my memorable 'day out' (as the servants say) with the Sydney +artist. I no longer debated with myself at all the question as to whether or +not I should leave the Orphanage. It would have seemed treachery to my new +self, and in a way to Mr. Rawlence (my source of inspiration) to debate the +point. It was quite certain then that I should take my fate into my own hands, +leave St. Peter's, and make an attempt to win my way in the world alone.</p> + +<p>Having no belongings, no friends to consult, no possessions of any sort or +kind (save Ted's one-pound note, and a neatly bound manuscript volume of bush +botany, which latter treasure had been in my pocket on the day of my father's +death, and so had remained mine), there really were no preparations for me to +make. And so, as I said to myself a score of times a day: 'There's nothing to +be gained by waiting.' Still, I waited, some underlying vein of prudence in me, +or of cowardice, offering no reason--no reason against the move, no objection, +but just negation, the inertia of that which is still. But, yes, I was most +certainly going, and soon. That was my last waking thought every night when I +dug my head into my straw pillow, and my first waking thought when I swung my +feet down to the floor. I was going out into the world to make my own way.</p> + +<p>I was too closely engaged by the material aspect of my position to spare +thoughts for its abstract quality. But, looking back from the cool greyness of +later life, one sees a wistful pathos, and, too, a certain stirring fineness in +the situation. And if that is so, how infinitely the pathos and the fineness +are enhanced by this thought: Every day in the year, in every country in the +world, some lad, somewhere, is gazing out toward life's horizon, just as I was, +and telling himself, even as I did, that he must start out upon his individual +journey; for him the most important of all the voyages ever undertaken since +Adam and Eve set forth from their garden. I suppose it is rarely that a long +distance train enters a London terminal but what one such lad steps forth from +it, bent upon conquest, and, in how many cases, bound for defeat! Even of +Sydney the same thing was and is true, on a numerically smaller scale.</p> + +<p>In all lands and in all times the outsetting is essentially the same: the +same high hopes and brave determinations; the same profound conviction of +uniqueness; the same perfectly true and justifiable inner knowledge that, for +the individual, this journey is the most important in all history. In many +cases, of course, there are a mother's tears, a father's blessing, and suchlike +substitutes for the stirrup-cup. And, withal, in every single case, how +absolutely alone the young voyager really is, and must be! For our scientists +have not as yet discovered any means of precipitating the experience gleaned in +one generation (or a thousand) into the hearts and minds of another generation. +Circumstances differ vastly, of course; but the central facts are the same in +every case; the traveller must always be alone. The adventure upon which he +sets out, be he prince or pauper, university graduate or 'inmate' of St. +Peter's, is one which cannot be delegated by him, or taken from him, for it is +his own life; his and his alone, to make or to mar, to perfect or to botch, to +cherish or to waste, to convert into a fruitful garden, or to relinquish, when +his time comes, a sour and derelict plot of barrenness.</p> + +<p>And this tremendous undertaking, with all its infinite potentialities of +good and evil, joy and agony, pride and despair, is in every country approached +by somebody, by some one of our own kind, every single morning, and has been +down through the ages since time began, and will be while time lasts. And there +are folk who call modern life prosaic, dull, devoid of romance. Romance! Why, +in the older lands there is hardly a foot of road space that has not been +trodden at one time or another by youth or maid, in the crucial moment of +setting out upon this amazing adventure. There are men and women who drum their +fingers on a window-pane after breakfast of a morning, and yawn out their +disgust at the empty dullness of life, the vacant boredom of another day. And +within a mile of them, as like as not, some one is setting forth--lips +compressed, brow knit--upon the great adventure. And, too, some one else is +face to face with the other great adventure--the laying down of life. Somewhere +close to us every single morning brings one or other, or both of these two +incomparably romantic happenings.</p> + +<p>Truly, to confess ennui, or make complaint of the dullness of life, is to +confess to a sort of creeping paralysis of the mind. To be weary is +comprehensible enough. Yes, God knows I can understand the existence of +weariness or exhaustion. To be bored even is natural enough, if one is bored +by, say, forced inaction, or obligatory action of a futile, meaningless kind. +But negative boredom; to be uninterested, not because adverse circumstances +confine you to this or that barren and uncongenial milieu, but because you see +nothing of interest in life as a whole; because life seems to you a dull, +empty, or prosaic business--that argues a kind of blindness, a poverty of +imagination, which amounts to disease, and, surely, to disease of a most +humiliating sort.</p> + +<p>But this is digression of a sort I have not hitherto permitted myself in +this record. To be precise, I should say, it is digression of a sort which up +till now has, when detected, been religiously expunged--sent to feed my fire. +Well, one has always pencils; the fire is generally at hand; we shall see. +After all, a great deal of one's life is made up of digressions.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In the summer-time there were sharks in Myall Creek, but I had never seen +them there in the spring. It was, I think, still somewhere short of midnight +when I stepped quietly out of the low window of the room I shared with seven +other orphans. (The house was all of one storey.) I would have taken boots, +but, excepting on visitors' Sundays, these were kept in a locked cupboard in +the sisters' building. My outfit consisted of a comparatively whole pair of +trousers--not those immortalised in Mr. Rawlence's sketch--a strong, +short-sleeved shirt of hard, grey woollen stuff, a dilapidated waistcoat, a +belt, my little book of bush flowers and trees, and my one-pound note. Oh, and +an ancient grey felt hat with a large hole in the crown of it. That was all; +but I dare say notable careers have been started upon less; in cash, if not in +clothing.</p> + +<p>Beside the punt I hesitated for a few moments, half inclined to cross by +that obvious means, and leave Tim to do the swimming by daylight. Finally, +however, I slipped off my clothes, tied them in a bundle on my head, and +stepped silently into the water, closely and interestedly observed by one of +the Orphanage watch-dogs, chained beside the landing-stage. If he had barked, +it would have been only from desire to come with me, in which case, to save +trouble, I should probably have become guilty of dog-stealing. The dogs were +all good friends of mine.</p> + +<p>The water was cold that spring night, but I was soon out of it, and using my +shirt for a hard rub down in the scrub beside the creek wharf. As a precaution +I had waited for a moonless night, and had made my exit with no more noise than +was caused by one of the night birds or little beasts that visited our island. +I had seen maps, and knew the compass bearings of the locality. My ultimate +destination being Sydney, I turned to the southward, and stepped out briskly +along the track leading towards Milton, and away from Werrina.</p> + +<p>That was the simple fashion of my outsetting into the world, and for a time +I gave literally no thought at all to its real significance. My recognition of +it as the beginning of the great adventure of independent life was temporarily +obscured by my preoccupation with its detail.</p> + +<p>At the end of a silent hour or two, when I suppose half a dozen miles lay +between myself and the Orphanage, the reflective faculties came into play +again. I began to see my affair more clearly, and to see it whole, or pretty +nearly so. From that point onward, I put in quite a good deal of steady +thinking with regard to the future. I had two or three definite objects in +view, and the first of these was to reach as quickly as possible some point not +less than about fifty miles distant from Myall Creek, at which I could feel +safe from any likely encounter with a chance traveller from that district.</p> + +<p>So much accomplished my plans represented in effect a pedestrian journey to +Sydney. But I recognised that the journey might occupy some time, since, in the +course of it, I was to earn money and then learn shorthand; the money, by way +of working capital and insurance against accidents; the shorthand, to furnish +my stock-in-trade and passport in the metropolitan world. So mine was not to be +exactly a holiday walking tour. Yet I do not think any one could have set out +upon a holiday tour with more of zest than I brought to my tramping. My mood +was not of gaiety, rather it was one attuned to high and almost solemn emprise; +but, yes, I was full of zest in my walking.</p> + +<p>An hour or so before daybreak I lay down on some dead fern at the foot of a +huge and sombre red mahogany tree, where the track forked. It was partly that I +wanted a rest, and partly that I was uncertain which track led to the township +of Milton, where I purposed buying some food before any chance word of my +flight from the Orphanage could have travelled so far. The authorities at the +Orphanage were little likely to trouble themselves greatly over a runaway +orphan; but I cherished a hazy idea that in my case the matter might be somehow +a little different, in the same way that I had not been farmed out to any one +in the district, possibly because in receiving me St. Peter's had also received +some money, certainly more than could be represented by the cost of my +maintenance. In any case, I did not want to take any unnecessary risks.</p> + +<p>Two minutes after lying down I was asleep. When I waked the sun was clear of +the horizon, and I was partly covered over by dead bracken. The dawn hours had +been chilly, and evidently I had grappled the fern leaves to me in my sleep, as +one tugs a blanket over one's shoulder, without waking, when cold. While I was +chuckling to myself over this, and picking the twigs from my clothes, I heard +the pistol-like crack of a bullock whip, and then, quite near at hand, the +cries of a 'bullocky,' as they called the bullock-drivers thereabout, full of +morning-time vehemence.</p> + +<p>'Woa, Darkey! Gee, Roan! Baldy, gee! Nigger! Strawberry! Gee, now, Punch! +I'll ----y well trim you in a minute, me gentleman. Gee, Baldy; ye ----y cow, +you!'</p> + +<p>It was thus the unseen bushman discoursed to his cattle, and in a minute or +two the horns of his leaders, swaying slightly in their yoke, appeared at the +bend of the track, the bolt-heads in the yoke shining like bosses of silver in +the slanting rays of the new-risen sun. Clearly the wagon had been loaded +overnight, for the huge tallow-wood log slung on it could hardly have been +placed in its bed since sun-up.</p> + +<p>'I'm your ----y man, if it's Milton you want,' said the driver +good-humouredly, in response to my inquiries. 'I'm taking this stick into the +Milton saw-mill. ----y solid stick, eh? My oath, yes; there's not enough pipe +in that feller to stick a ----y needle in. No, he ought to measure up pretty +well, I reckon.' A pause for expectoration, and then: 'Livin' in Milton?'</p> + +<p>'No,' I told him, 'just travelling that way.' I flattered myself I had put +just the right note of nonchalance into what I knew was a typically familiar +sort of phrase. But the bullocky eyed me curiously, all the same, and I +instantly made up my mind to part company with him at the earliest convenient +moment.</p> + +<p>'You travel ----y light, sonny,' he said; 'but I suppose that's the easiest +----y way, when all's said.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' I agreed, with fluent mendacity; 'I got tired of the swag, and I've +not very far to go anyway.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Where might ye be makin' for, then?'</p> + +<p>At this point I realised for the first time the grave disadvantages of +redundance in speech, of unnecessary verbiage. There had been no earthly need +for my last words, and now that my fatal fluency had found me out, for the life +of me I could not think of the name of a likely place. At length, with clumsily +affected carelessness, I had to say, 'Oh, just down south a bit from +Milton.'</p> + +<p>'H'm! Port Lawson way, like?' suggested the curious bullocky.</p> + +<p>'Yes, that's it,' I said hurriedly. 'Port Lawson way.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, well, I've got a brother works in the ----y saw-mills there. Ye'll +maybe know him--Jim Gray; big, slab-sided chap he is, with his nose sorter +twisted like, where a ----y brumby colt kicked him when he was a kid. ----y +good thing for him it was a brumby, or unshod, anyway; he'd a' bin in Queer +Street else, I'm thinkin'. Jever meet him down that way?'</p> + +<p>I admitted that I never had, but promised to look out for him.</p> + +<p>'Aye, ye might,' said the bullocky. 'An', if ye see him, tell him ye met +me--Bill's my name--Bill Gray, ye see--an' tell him-- Oh, tell him I said to +mind his ----y p's an' q's, ye know, an' be good to his ----y self.'</p> + +<p>I readily promised that I would, and our conversation lapsed for a time, +while Bill Gray filled his pipe, cutting the tobacco on the ball of his left +thumb from a good-sized black plug. For the rest of our walk together, I used +extreme circumspection, and was able to confine our desultory exchanges to such +safe topics as the bullocks, the weather, the roads, and so forth, all +favourite subjects with bushmen. And then, as we drew near the one street of +the little township, there was the saw-mill, and my opportunity for bidding +good-day to a too inquisitive companion.</p> + +<p>'So long, sonny,' said he, in response to my salutation. 'Take care of your +----y self.' (His favourite adjective had long ceased to have any meaning +whatever for this good fellow. He now used it even as some ladies use inverted +commas, or other commas, in writing. And sometimes, when he had occasion to use +a word as long as, say, 'impossible,' he would actually drag in the meaningless +expletive as an interpolation between the first and second syllables of the +longer word, as though he felt it a sinful waste of opportunities to allow so +many good syllables to pass unburdened by a single enunciation of his master +word.)</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The freedom of the open road was infinitely delightful to me after the +incessant task work of St. Peter's. And perhaps this, quite as much as the +policy of getting well away from the Myall Creek district, was responsible for +the fact that I held on my way, with never a pause for work of any sort, +through a whole week. My lodging at night cost me nothing, of course; and the +expenditure of something well under a shilling a day provided a far more +generous dietary than that to which St. Peter's had accustomed me. I began to +lay on flesh, and to feel strength growing in me.</p> + +<p>Mere living, the maintenance of existence, has always been cheap and easy in +Australia, where an entirely outdoor life involves no hardship at any season. +This fact has no doubt played an important part in the development of the +Australian national character. The Australian national character is the English +national character of, say, seventy or eighty years ago, subjected to isolation +from all foreign influences, and to general conditions much easier and milder +than those of England; given unlimited breathing-space, and freed from all +pressure of confined population; cut off also, to a very great extent, from the +influence of tradition and ancient institutions. For the lover of our British +stock and the student of racial problems, I always think that Australia and its +people offer a field of unique interest.</p> + +<p>I did not come upon Jim Gray, the slab-sided one, in Port Lawson, so was +unable to bid him mind his ensanguined p's and q's. Indeed, up to this point, I +sternly repressed my social instincts, and refrained, so far as might be, from +entering into talk with any one. But after the third day I began to feel that +my freedom was assured, and that the chances of meeting any one from the +Orphanage neighbourhood were too remote to be worth considering. My tramping +became then so much the more enjoyable, for the reason that I chatted with all +and sundry who showed sociable inclinations, and at that time this included +practically every wayfarer one met in rural Australia. (There has been no great +change in this respect.)</p> + +<p>'The curse o' this country, my sonny boy,' said one red-bearded traveller +whom I met and walked with for some miles, 'is the near-enough system. It's a +great country, all right; whips o' room, good land, good climate, an' all the +like o' that; but, you mark my words, the curse of it is the "near-enough" +system--that an' the booze, o' course; but mainly it's the "near-enough" +system, from the nail in your trousers in place of a brace button to the +saplin's tied wi' green-hide in place of a gate, an' the bloomin' agitator in +parliament in place of a gentleman. It's "near-enough" that crabs us, every +time. Look at me! I owned a big store in Kempsey one time. You wouldn't think +it to look at me, would ye? Well, an' I didn't booze, either. But it was +"near-enough" in the accounts, an' "near-enough" in the buyin', an' +"near-enough" in the prices, an'--here I am, barely makin' wages--worse wages +than I paid counter hands--cuttin' sleepers. But I get me tucker out of it, an' +me bitter 'baccy, an' that; an'---well, it's "near-enough," an' so I stick at +it.'</p> + +<p>It was on a Sunday morning of delicious brightness and virginal freshness +that I reached the irregularly spreading outskirts of Dursley, a pretty little +town in Gloucester county, the appearance of which, as I approached it from the +highest point of the long ridge upon whose lower slopes it lay, appealed to me +most strongly. Though still small Dursley is an old town, for Australia. The +figures against it in the gazetteers are not imposing: 'School of Arts, 1800 +vols., etc.--' But, even in the late 'seventies, it possessed that sort of +smoothness, that comparative trimness and humanised air of comfort, which only +the lapse of years can give. Your new settlement cannot have this attraction, +no matter how prosperous or well laid out; and it is a quality which must +always appeal especially to the native of an old, much-handled land, such as +England. A newcomer from old Gloucester might have thought Dursley raw and +new-looking enough, with its galvanised iron roofs and water-tanks, and its +painted wooden houses, fences, and verandah posts. But in such a matter my +standards had become largely Australian, no doubt. At all events, as I skirted +the orchard fence of the most outlying residence of Dursley, I remember saying +to myself aloud, as my habit was since I had taken to the road:</p> + +<p>'Now this Dursley is the sort of place I'd like to get a job in. I'd like to +live here, till----'</p> + +<p>'H'm! Outer the mouths o' babes and suckerlings! Tssp! Well, I admire your +perspicashon, youngfellermelad, anyhow, an' you can say I said so.'</p> + +<p>At the first sound of these words, apparently launched at me from out the +<em>Ewigkeit</em>, I spun round on my bare heels in the loamy sand of the +track, with a moving picture thought in my mind of little gnomes in pointed +caps and leathern jerkins, with diminutive miner's picks in their hands, and a +fancy for the occasional bestowal of magical gifts upon wandering mortals. The +picture was gone in a second, of course; and I glared at the orchard fence as +though that should make it transparent.</p> + +<p>'Higher up, sonny! Think of your arboracious ancestors, an' that sorter +thing.'</p> + +<p>This time my ears gave me truer guidance as to the direction from which the +voice came, and, looking up, I saw a man reclining at his ease upon a +'possum-skin rug, which was spread on a sort of platform set between the forked +branches of a giant Australian cedar, fully thirty feet from the ground, and +higher than the chimneys of the house near by. The man's head and face seemed +to me as round and red as any apple, and what I could see of his figure +suggested at least a comfortable tendency to stoutness. Whilst not at all the +sort of person who would be described as an old man, or even elderly, the owner +of the mysterious voice and round, red face had clearly passed that stage at +which he would be spoken of by a stranger as a young man.</p> + +<p>'He doesn't look a bit like a tree-climber,' I thought. The girth of the +great cedar prevented my seeing the species of ladder-stairway which had been +built against its far side. I had breakfasted as the sun rose this fine Sunday +morning, and walked no more than a couple of miles since, so that the majority +of Dursley's inhabitants had probably not begun to think of breakfast yet. My +'arboracious' gentleman, anyhow, was still in his pyjamas, the pattern and +colouring of which were, for that period, quite remarkably daring and +bright.</p> + +<p>'Well, young peripatater, I suppose you're wondering now if I've got a tail, +hey? No, sir, I am fundamentally innocent--virginacious, in fact. But, all the +same, if you like to just go on peripatating till you get to my side gate, and +then come straight along to this arboracious retreat, I will a tale unfold that +may appeal greatly to your matutinatal fancy. So peri along, youngfellermelad, +an' I'll come down to meet ye.'</p> + +<p>'All right, sir, I'll come,' I told him. And those were the first words I +spoke to him, though he seemed already to have said a good deal to me.</p> + +<p>By this time I had become seized with the idea that here was what is called +'a character.' I had, as it were, caught on to the whimsical oddity of the man, +and liked it. Indeed, he would have been a singularly dull dog who failed to +recognise this man's quaint good-humour as something jolly and kindly and +well-meaning. The gentleman spoke by the aid, not alone of his mouth, but of +his small, bright, twinkling eyes, his twitching, almost hairless brows, his +hands and shoulders, and his whole, rosy, clean-shaved, multitudinously lined, +puckered, and dimpled face. And then his words; the extraordinary manner in +which he twisted and juggled with the longer and less familiar of +them--arboreal, peripatetic, matutinal, and the like! He had an entirely +independent and original way of pronouncing very many words, and of converting +certain phrases, such as 'young fellow my lad,' into a single word of many +syllables. I never met any one who could so clearly convey hyphens (or dispense +with them) by intonation.</p> + +<p>Having passed through a small gateway, I skirted the side of a +comfortable-looking house of the spreading, bungalow type, with wide verandahs; +and so, by way of a shaded path, arrived at the foot of the big cedar, just as +the rosy-faced gentleman reached the ground from his stairway.</p> + +<p>'Well-timed, young peripatater,' he said, with a chuckling smile. I noticed +as he reached the earth that he walked with a peculiar, rolling motion of the +body. He certainly was stout. There were no angles about him anywhere, nothing +but rotundity. Withal, and despite the curious, rotary gait, there was a +suggestion of quickness and of well-balanced lightness about all his movements. +His hands and feet I thought quite remarkably small. There was a short section +of the bole of a large tree, with a flattened base, lying on the ground near +the stairway. The gentleman subsided upon this airily, as though it had been +made of eider-down, and, crossing his pyjamed legs, beamed upon me, where I +stood before him.</p> + +<p>'Peripatacious by habit, what might your name be, youngfellermelad?'</p> + +<p>I told him, and he repeated it after me, twice, with a distinct licking of +his lips, suggestive of the act of deliberate wine-tasting.</p> + +<p>'Good. Yes. Ah! Nicholas Freydon, Nick to his friends, no doubt. Quite a +mellifluant name. Nicholas Freydon. Tssp! Very good. You'd hardly think now +that my name was George Perkins, would you? Don't seem exactly right, does +it?--not Perkins. But that's what it is; and it's a significacious name, too, +in Dursley, let me tell you. But that's because of the meaning I've given to +it. But for that, it's certainly an unnatural sort of a name for me. Perkins is +a name for a thin man, with a pointed nose, no chin, a wisp of hair over his +forehead, and an apron. Starch, rice, tapioca: a farinatuous name, of course. +But there it is; it happens to be the name of Dursley's Omnigerentual and +Omniferacious Agent, you see; and that's me. Tssp! Wharejercomefrom, Nickperry, +or Peripatacious Nick?'</p> + +<p>The idea of using precautions with or attempting to deceive this rosily +rotund 'character' seemed far-fetched and absurd. I not only told him I came +from Myall Creek, but also named the Orphanage.</p> + +<p>'Ah! I'm an orphantulatory one myself. You absquatulated, I presume; a +levantular movement at midnight--ran away, hey?'</p> + +<p>I admitted it, and Mr. Perkins nodded in a pleased way, as though +discovering an accomplishment in me.</p> + +<p>'That's what I did, too; not from an orphanage, but from the paternal roof +and shop. My father was a pedestrialatory specialist, a shoemaker, in fact, and +brought me up for that profession. But I gave up pedestriality, finding +omniferaciousness more in my line. Matter of temperment, of course--inward, +like that, with an awl, you know, or outward, like that'--he swung his fat arms +wide--'as an omnigerentual man of affairs: an Agent. I'm naturally +omnigerentual; my father was awlicular or gimletular--like a centre-bit, +y'know. Tssp! So you like Dursley, hey? Little town takes your fancy as you see +it from the ridge? Kinduv cuddlesome and umbradewus, isn't it? Yes, I felt that +way myself when I came here looking for pedestrial work--repairs a speciality, +y' know. Whatsorterjobjerwant?'</p> + +<p>I found that Mr. Perkins usually wound up his remarks with a question which, +irrespective of its length, was generally made to sound like one word. The +habit affected me as the application of a spur affects a well-fed and not +unwilling steed. I did not resent it, but it made me jump. On this occasion I +explained to the best of my ability that I wanted whatever sort of job I could +get, but preferably one that would permit of my doing a little work on my own +account of an evening.</p> + +<p>'Ha! Applicacious and industrial--bettermentatious ambitions, hey? Quite +right. No good sticking to the awlicular if you've anything of the +embraceshunist in you.' He embraced his own ample bosom with wide-flung arms, +as a London cabman might on a frosty morning. 'Man is naturally +multivorous--when he's not a vegetable. Howjerliketerworkferme?'</p> + +<p>'Very much indeed,' said I, rising sharply to the spur.</p> + +<p>'H'm! Tssp!' It is not easy to convey in writing any adequate idea of this +'Tssp' sound. It seemed to be produced by pressing the tongue against the front +teeth, the jaws being closed and the lips parted, and then sharply closing the +lips while withdrawing the tongue inward. I am enabled to furnish this minutiae +by reason of the fact that I deliberately practised Mr. Perkins's favourite +habit before a looking-glass, to see how it was done. This was on the day after +our first meeting. The habit was subtly characteristic of the man, because it +was so suggestive of gustatory enthusiasm. He was for ever savouring the taste +of life and of words, especially of words.</p> + +<p>'Well, as it happeneth, Nickperry, your desire for a job is curiously +synchronacious with my need of a handy lad. My handy lad stopped being a lad +yesterday morning, was married before dinner, and is now away +connubialising--honeymoon. After which he goes into partnership with his +father-in-law--greens an' fish. It's generally a mistake to make partnerial +arrangements with relations, Nickperry--apt to bring about a combustuous +staterthings. So I wanterandyladyersee.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> + +<p>'My name is Mister Perkins, Nickperry, not "Sir."'</p> + +<p>'Yes, Mr. Perkins.'</p> + +<p>'That's better. I know you don't mean to be servileacious, but that English +"sir" is--we don't like it in Australia, Nickperry. You are from the Old +Country, aren't you?'</p> + +<p>I admitted it, and marvelled how Mr. Perkins could have known it.</p> + +<p>'H'm! Tssp! Fine ol' institootion the Old Country, but cert'nly a bit +servileacious. D'jerknowhowtermilkercow?'</p> + +<p>'I've been milking four, night and morning, for over two years, s'--Mister +Perkins,' I answered, with some pride.</p> + +<p>'Good for yez, Nickperry. Whataboutgardening?'</p> + +<p>'I worked in the garden every day at the Orphanage, s'--Mister Perkins.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins smiled even more broadly than usual. 'It's "Mister" not +"Smister" Perkins, Nickperry.'</p> + +<p>I smiled, and felt the colour rise in my face. (How I used to curse that +girlish blushing habit!)</p> + +<p>'Tssp! Well, I see you can take a joke, anyway; an' that's even more +important, really, than horticulturous knowledge. Tssp! There's my breakfast +bell, an' I'm not dressed. Jus' come along this way, Nickperry.'</p> + +<p>In the neatly paved yard at the back of the house stood a well-conditioned +cow, of the colour of a new-husked horse chestnut. She was peacefully chewing +her cud, oblivious quite to the flight of time. Mr. Perkins ambled swiftly into +the house, rolling out again, as it seemed within the second, as though he had +bounced against an inner wall, and handing me a milk-pail.</p> + +<p>'Stool over there. Jus' milk the cow for me, Nickperry. +Seeyagaindreckly!'</p> + +<p>And he was gone, having floated within doors, like a huge ball of +thistledown on well-oiled castors. Next moment I heard his mellow, rotund voice +again, several rooms away.</p> + +<p>'Sossidge! Sossidge! Whajerdoin'?' Then a pause. Then--'Keep brekfus' three +minutes, Sossidge; I'm not dressed.'</p> + +<p>With a mind somewhat confused, I turned to the red cow, and my first task +for Mr. Perkins. Bella--I learned subsequently that the cow, when a young +heifer, had been given this name by Mr. Perkins, because she distinguished +herself by bellowing incessantly for a whole night--proved a singularly amiable +beast. I was light-handed, and a fair milker, I believe. Still, my hands were +strange to Bella; yet she gave down her milk most generously, and, though +standing in the open, without bail or leg-rope, never stirred till the foaming +pail was three parts full, and her udder dry. It was something of a revelation +to me, for our cows at St. Peter's had been rough scrub cattle, and had been +left to pick up their own living for the most part; whereas Bella was +aldermanic, a monument of placid satiety.</p> + +<p>I very carefully deposited the pail inside the scullery entrance, and +withdrew then to a respectful distance, with Bella. Would this amazing Mr. +Perkins engage me? There was no doubt in my mind that I hoped he would. I had +seen practically nothing of the place, and my impressions of it must all have +been produced by the personality of its owner, I suppose. But it did seem to me +that this establishment possessed an atmosphere of cheery kindliness and +jollity such as I had never before found about any residence. The contrast +between this place and St. Peter's was extraordinarily striking. I wondered +what Sister Agatha would have made of Mr. Perkins, or he of Sister Agatha. +'Acidulacious' was the word he would have applied to Sister Agatha, I thought, +with a boy's readiness in mimicry; and I chuckled happily to myself in the +thinking.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>While I stood in the yard cogitating, a woman whose white-spotted blue dress +was for the most part covered by a very white apron emerged from the scullery +door, holding one hand over her eyes to shade them from the morning sun.</p> + +<p>'Ha!' she said, in a managing tone; 'so you're the new lad, are you?' I +smiled somewhat bashfully, this being a question I was not yet in a position to +answer definitely. 'Well, you're to come into breakfast anyhow, and be sure and +rub your boots on the-- Oh, you haven't any. Well, rub your feet, then. Come +on! I must see to my fire.'</p> + +<p>So I followed her through the scullery (a spacious and airy place) into the +kitchen, having first carefully rubbed the dust off my horny soles on the +door-mat. And then, with a boy's ready adaptability in the matter of meals, I +gave a good account of myself behind a plate of bacon and eggs, with plentiful +bread and butter and tea, though I had broken my fast in the bush an hour or +two earlier by polishing off the sketchy remains of the previous night's +supper, washed down by water from a bright creek.</p> + +<p>Domestic capability was the quality most apparent in my breakfast companion. +Her age, I should say, was nearer fifty than forty, but she was exceedingly +well-preserved; and she was called, as she explained when we sat down, Mrs. +Gabbitas. That in itself, I reflected, probably recommended her warmly to Mr. +Perkins. (I guessed in advance that he might refer to the lady as the +Gabbitacious one; and he did, more than once, in my hearing.)</p> + +<p>'Nick Freydon's your name, I'm told. Oh, well, that's all right then.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gabbitas always spoke, not alone as one having authority, but, and +above all, as one who managed all affairs, things, and people within her reach, +as indeed she did to a great extent. A most capable and managing woman was Mrs. +Gabbitas. I adopted an air of marked deference towards her, I remember; in part +from motives of policy, and partly too because her capability really impressed +me. Before the bacon was finished we had become quite friendly. I had learned +that my hostess had a full upper set of artificial teeth--quite a distinction +in those days--and that on a certain occasion, I forget now at what exact +period of her life, she had earned undying fame by being called upon by name, +from the pulpit of her chapel, to rise in her place among the congregation and +sing as a solo the anthem beginning: 'How beautiful upon the mountains!' I +gathered now and later that this remarkable event formed in a sense the pivot +upon which Mrs. Gabbitas's career turned. Having spent all her life in +Australia, she had not been presented at Court; but, alone, unaccompanied, and +from her place among the chapel congregation, she had, in answer to the +minister's call, made one service historic by singing 'How beautiful upon the +mountains!' It was a pious and pleasant memory, and I admit the story of it did +add to her dignity in my eyes. Her false teeth, though admittedly a distinction +at that period, did not precisely add to her dignity. They were somehow too +mobile, too responsive in front to the forces of gravitation, for a talkative +woman.</p> + +<p>'Has he given you a name yet?' she asked, as we rose from the table, giving +her head a jerk as she spoke in the direction of the little pantry, in which I +gathered there was a revolving hatch communicating with the dining-room.</p> + +<p>'Well, he called me "Nickperry,"' I said, 'or "Peripatacious Nick."'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Yes, that sounds like one of his,' she said, apparently weighing the +name and myself, not without approval. 'There's nothing nor nobody he hasn't +got some name for. He don't miscall me to me face, for I'd allow no person to +do such. But in speakin' to Missis, I've heard him refer to me with some such +nonsensical words as "Gabbitular" and "Gabbitaceous," or some such rubbish, +although no one wouldn't ever think such a thing of me--nobody but him, that +is. But he means no harm, y'know. There's no more vice in the man than--than in +Bella there.'</p> + +<p>She pointed with a wooden spoon toward the open window, through which we +could see the red cow, still contentedly chewing over the memories of her last +meal.</p> + +<p>'No, there's no harm in him, or you may be sure I wouldn't be here; but he's +a great character, is Mr. Perkins; a regler case, he is, an' no mistake. Well, +this won't get my kitchen cleaned up--and Sunday morning, too! You might take +out that bucket of ashes for me. You'll find the heap where they go down in the +little yard behind the stable. There now! That's what comes o' talkin'! If I +didden forget to ask a blessin', an' you an orphan, too, I believe! F'what +we've received. Lor', make us truly thangful cry-say-carmen--Off you go!'</p> + +<p>Her eyes were screwed tightly shut while the words of the gabbled invocation +passed her lips, and opened widely as, with its last mysterious syllables, she +dropped the wooden spoon she had been holding and turned to her fire. The fire +was always 'my' fire to worthy Mrs. Gabbitas. So was the kitchen, for that +matter, the scullery, the pantry, and all the things that therein were. Indeed, +she frequently spoke of 'my' dining-room table, bedrooms, silver, front hall, +windows, and the like. Even the meals served to Mr. and Mrs. Perkins were, +until eaten, 'my dining-room breakfast,' 'my dining-room tea,' and so forth.</p> + +<p>On my way back from the ash-heap with Mrs. Gabbitas's bucket, I almost +collided with Mr. Perkins, as he rolled swiftly and silently into view from +round the end of the rustic pergola, between the house yard and the big +cedar.</p> + +<p>'Aha! The Peripatacious one! Tssp! Yes. Mrs. Perkins wants a word with you, +youngfellermelad. Come on this way. She's on the front verandah.'</p> + +<p>I found myself involuntarily seeking to emulate Mr. Perkins's remarkable +method of locomotion. But I might as well have sought to mimic an albatross or +a balloon. It was not only his splendid rotundity which I lacked. The +difference went far beyond that. He had oiled castors running on patent ball +bearings, and I was but the ordinary pedestrian youth.</p> + +<p>We found Mrs. Perkins reclining on a couch on the front verandah, a very +gaily coloured dust-rug covering the lower part of her figure. Like many people +in Australia she could hardly be classified socially; or, perhaps, I should say +she did not possess in any marked form the characteristics which in England are +associated with this or that social grade. If there was nothing of the +aristocrat about her, it might be said that she was not in the least typically +'middle-class'; and I am sure the severest critic would have hesitated to say +that hers were the manners, disposition, or outlook of any 'lower' class. Yet +she had married an itinerant cobbler, or at best a 'pedestrialatory +specialist,' and, I am sure, without the smallest sense of taking a derogatory +step.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Perkins was the more a revelation to me perhaps, because, as it +happened, Mrs. Gabbitas had said nothing whatever about her. I learned +presently that she had not stood upon her feet for more than ten years. I was +never told the exact nature of the disease from which she suffered, but I know +she had lost permanently the use of her legs, and that she was not allowed to +sit up in a chair for more than an hour at a time. She never moved anywhere +without her husband. He carried her from one room to another, and at times to +different parts of the garden; always very skilfully, and without the slightest +appearance of exertion. I think it likely she did not weigh more than six or +seven stone. Whenever I saw her carried, there was always draped about her a +gaily coloured rug or large shawl; and she was for ever smiling, or actually +laughing, or making some quaintly humorous little remark. I wondered sometimes +if she had borrowed her playfulness in speech from her husband, or if he had +borrowed from her. I do not think I ever met a happier pair.</p> + +<p>'So here you are!' she said, as we drew near. Her tone suggested that my +coming were the arrival of a very welcome and long-looked-for guest. 'You see, +Nick, I am so lazy that I never go to any one; and people are so kind that +every one comes to me, sooner or later.'</p> + +<p>I experienced a desire to do something graceful and chivalrous, and did +nothing, I suspect, but grin awkwardly and shuffle my toes in the dust. It +seemed to me clumsy and rude to stand erect before this crippled little lady, +yet impossible to adopt any other attitude. Mr. Perkins had subsided, softly as +a down cushion, on the edge of the verandah. But he had no angles, and I had no +curves. Mr. Perkins removed his hat and caressingly polished that glistening +orb, his head, with a large rainbow-hued handkerchief.</p> + +<p>'You see, Insect,' he said, beaming upon his wife, 'this young feller, +Nickperry, an orphantual lad, as I explained, has taken a fancy to Dursley.'</p> + +<p>'And you've taken a fancy to Nickperry, I suppose--as you call him.'</p> + +<p>The master waved his fat arms to demonstrate his aloofness from fancies. +'Well, we want a new handy lad,' he said; 'and this peripatacious young chap +comes strolling along just as Bella wants milking. The Gabbitual one says he's +all right.' This is an elaborate stage aside.</p> + +<p>'And how did Bella behave, Nick?' asked the mistress.</p> + +<p>'She gave down her milk very nicely--madam,' I said, conscious of a blush +over the matter of addressing this little lady.</p> + +<p>'Merely a passing weakness for the servileacious, inherited from feudalising +ancestors,' said Mr. Perkins in an explanatory tone to his wife. And then to +me: 'This is Missis Perkins, Nickperry, not "Madam." When you want to speak to +the Missis, you must always come and find her, because she don't get about +much, do you, Pig-an'-Whistle?'</p> + +<p>One of the points of difference between husband and wife, in their spoken +whimsicalities, was that the man had no sense of shame and the wife had. Mr. +Perkins was no respecter of persons. He would have addressed his wife as +'Blow-fly,' or 'Sossidge,' or 'Piggins,' or by any of the ridiculous names of +the sort that he affected, in the presence of the queen or his own handy lad. I +have overheard similar expressions of playful ribaldry upon his wife's lips +many a time, but never when I was obviously and officially in their +presence.</p> + +<p>'And what about pay, Nickperry? How do you stand now on the wages question? +What did the Drooper start on, Whizz?' This last question was addressed to Mrs. +Perkins, whose real name, as I learned later--never once heard upon her +husband's lips--was Isabel.</p> + +<p>'Eight shillings,' replied Mrs. Perkins. 'But, of course, wages have risen a +good bit since then.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; the gas of the agitators does sometimes serve to inflate wages; +I'll say that for the beggars. What do you say, Nickperry?'</p> + +<p>'Well, si--Mister Perkins----'</p> + +<p>'He always calls me "Smister." It's a friendly way they have in England, +like the eye-glass and the turned-up trousers.'</p> + +<p>In her smile Mrs. Perkins managed to convey merriment, sympathy for me as +the person chaffed, and humorous disapproval of her husband. I would gladly +have worked for her for nothing, for admiration of her bright eyes.</p> + +<p>'I was going to say that I'd be willing to work for whatever you liked, till +you saw whether I suited you or not,' I managed to explain.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Perkins nodded approvingly, and her husband said: 'That's a very fair +offer. You have an engagious way with you, Nickperry; and so we'll engage you +at ten bob and all found for a start. How's that, Whizkers?'</p> + +<p>The mistress assented pleasantly, and added: 'You'll tell Mrs. Gabbitas to +see to the room, George, won't you, and--and to give Nickperry what he needs? +She will understand. I dare say he'd like a bath.'</p> + +<p>I blushed red-hot at this, but Mrs. Perkins kindly refrained from looking my +way, and the interview ended. Then, like a dinghy in the wake of a galleon, I +followed my new employer to the rearward parts of the establishment.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I used to tell Heron, and others who came into my later life, that the +happiest days I ever knew were the 'ten bob a week and all found' days of my +handy-lad time. It was very likely true, I think; though really it is next door +to impossible for any man to tell which period in his life has been the more +happy; and especially is this so in the case of the type of man who finds more +interest in the past than in the future. The other side of the road always will +be the cleaner, the trees on the far side of the hill will always be the +greener, for a great many of us. Any other time seems preferable before the +present moment, to some folk; and to many, times past are in every sense +superior to anything the future can have to offer.</p> + +<p>At all events I was fortunate in the matter of my first situation, and I was +contented in it, being satisfied that it was an excellent means to an end which +I had decided should be very fine indeed.</p> + +<p>I have never yet been able to make up my mind whether I am like or unlike to +the majority of mankind in this: with me every phase of life, every occupation, +every effort, almost every act and thought have been regarded, not upon their +own merits or in relation to themselves, but as means to ends. The ends, it +always appeared, would prove eminently desirable; they would give me my reward. +The ends, once they were attained, would certainly bring me peace, happiness, +fame, health, enjoyment, leisure, monetary gain, or whatever it was they were +designed to bring. I am still uncertain whether or not the bulk of my +fellow-men are similarly constituted; but I am tolerably certain that one +misses a great deal in life as the result of having this kind of a mind.</p> + +<p>To a great extent, for example, one misses whatever may be desirable in the +one moment of time of which we are all sure--the present. One is not spared the +worries and anxieties of the present, because they seem to have their definite +bearing upon the end in view. But the good, the sound sweetness of the present, +when it chances to be there, so far from cherishing and savouring every +fraction of it, we spare it no more than a hurried smile in passing, as a +trifling incident of our progress toward the grand end which (just then) we +have in view. And how often time proves the end a thing which never actually +draws one breath of life; a mere embryo, a phantom, vaporous product of our own +imagination! So that for one, two, or fifty years, as the case may be, we have +derived no benefit from a number of tangible good things, by reason of our +strenuous pursuit of a shadow.</p> + +<p>Is this a peculiar disease, or am I merely noting a characteristic of my own +which is also a characteristic of the age in which I have lived? I wonder! It +is, at all events, a way of living which involves a rather tragical waste of +the good red stuff of life; and, yes, upon the whole it is a form of restless +waste and extravagance which I fancy is far from rare among the thinking men +and women of my time. They do not travel; they hurry from one place to another. +They do not enjoy; they pursue enjoyment. They do not rest; they arrange very +elaborately, cleverly, strenuously to catch rest--and miss it. Is it not +possible that some of us do not live, but use up all the time at our disposal +in sweating, toiling, scheming preparation for the particular sort of life we +think would suit us; the kind of life we are aiming at; the end, in fact, in +pursuit of which we expend and exhaust our whole share of life as a means?</p> + +<p>Though these things strike me now, it is needless to say they formed no part +of my mental outlook in Dursley.</p> + +<p>As is often the case in Australian homes, the colony of out-buildings upon +Mr. Perkins's premises at Dursley was more extensive than the parent building. +Between the main house and the stable, with all its attendant minor sheds and +lean-to, was a long, low-roofed wooden structure, divided into dairy, +wash-house, tool-room, workshop, and, at the end farthest from the dairy, what +is called a 'man's room.' This latter apartment was now my private sanctuary, +entered by nobody else, unless at my invitation. I grew quite fond of this +little room, which measured eight feet by twelve feet, and had a window looking +down the ridge and across the creek to Dursley in its valley and the wooded +hills beyond.</p> + +<p>I had no lamp in my sanctuary, and no fireplace. But the climate of New +South Wales is kindly, and, when one is used to it and one's eyes are young, +the light of a single candle is surprisingly satisfying. That, at all events, +was the light by which I mastered the intricacies of Pitman's system of +shorthand, besides reading most of the volumes in Dursley's School of Arts +library. The reading I accomplished in bed; the shorthand studies on the top of +a packing-case which hailed originally from a match factory in east London, and +doubtless had contained the curious little cylindrical cardboard boxes of wax +vestas, stamped with a sort of tartan plaid pattern, that are seen so far as I +know only in Australia, though made in England.</p> + +<p>At first, like others who have trodden the same thorny path, I went ahead +swimmingly with my shorthand, confining myself to the writing of it on the +packing-case. Being at the end of the current bed-book (it was Charles Reade's +<em>Griffith Gaunt</em>) I took my latest masterpiece of shorthand to bed with +me one night, only to find that I could barely read one word in ten. That was a +rather perturbed and unhappy night, and my progress thereafter was a somewhat +slower and more laborious process.</p> + +<p>The habit of rising with the sun was now fairly engrained in me. At about +daybreak then my first duties would take me to the wood-heap, with axe and saw, +and subsequently to the scullery with a heaped barrow-load of fuel for the day. +Arrived there I polished the household's boots and knives, washed my hands at +Mrs. Gabbitas's immaculate sink--a more scrupulously clean housewife I have yet +to meet--and proceeded to the feeding and milking of Bella. Then I fed the +horse, cleared out the stable, spruced myself up, and so to breakfast with 'The +Gabbitular One.' Three meat meals and two snacks--'the eleven o'clock' and 'the +four o'clock'--were the order of the day in this establishment. The snacks +consisted of tea, which was also served at every meal, including dinner, and +scones and butter; the meals included always some sort of flesh food and +varying adjuncts. After the lean dietary of St. Peter's this regime seemed +almost startling to me at first, a thing which could hardly be expected to +last. But I adapted myself to it without difficulty or complaint, and thrived +upon it greatly.</p> + +<p>During the day my main work was the cultivation of the garden, and the care +of the front lawn, in which Mr. Perkins took a very special pride and interest; +chiefly, I think, because it was the foreground of his wife's daily outlook. +But the routine work of the garden, which always was demanding a little more +time than one had to spare for it, was subject, of course, to interruptions. I +did the churning twice a week, and Mrs. Gabbitas the 'working' and 'making up' +of the butter. And there were other matters, including occasional errands to +the town--a message for a storekeeper, or a note for the master at his +office.</p> + +<p>Over the entrance to this office of Mr. Perkins's hung a huge board on which +were boldly painted in red letters on a white ground the name of George +Perkins, and the impressive words--'Dursley's Omnigerentual and Omniferacious +Agent.' It really was a remarkable notice-board, and residents invariably +pointed it out to visitors as one of the sights of the town. Indeed, Dursley +was very proud of its Omniferacious Agent, who for three successive years now +had been also its mayor.</p> + +<p>But I gathered from veteran gossips in the town's one street that this had +not always been so. Mr. Perkins had originally arrived in the town but very +slightly more burdened with worldly gear than I was. The tools of his craft as +a cobbler had left room enough in one bundle for the rest of his property. +Dursley did not want a cobbler at that time, I gathered; so in this respect Mr. +Perkins had been less fortunate than I was; for when I arrived some one had +wanted a handy lad. However, what proved more to the point was the fact that +the cobbler did want Dursley. He stayed long enough to teach the townsfolk to +appreciate him as a cobbler of boots--and of affairs, of threatened legal +proceedings, frayed friendships, and the like. And then, for some months prior +to a general election, the cobbler edited the local weekly newspaper, and was +largely instrumental in returning the Dursley-born candidate to parliament, in +place of an interfering upstart from Kempsey way. It was not at all a question +of politics, but of Dursley and its interests.</p> + +<p>By this time Mr. Perkins had gone some way towards Omniferacious Agenthood. +He had very successfully negotiated sundry sales and purchases for townsmen, +who shared that disinclination to call in conventionally recognised +professional assistance which I have often noticed in rural Australia. Then he +married the daughter of the newspaper proprietor, whose brother was one of +Dursley's leading storekeepers. Everybody now liked him, except a few crotchety +or petty souls, who, not understanding him, suspected him of ridiculing or +exposing them in some way, and in any case mistrusted his jollity, his success, +and his popularity. Even in the beginning, before the famous notice-board was +thought of, and while Mr. Perkins's work was yet 'awlicular,' I gathered that +several old residents had set their faces firmly against this invincibly merry +fellow, and done all they could to 'keep him in his place.'</p> + +<p>And now he bought and sold for them: their houses, land, timber, fruit, +produce, live-stock, and property of every sort and kind, making a larger +income than most of them in the doing of it, and accomplishing all this purely +by force of his personality. He succeeded where others failed, because so few +could help liking him; and if he failed but seldom in anything he undertook, +that was probably due in part to the fact that he never thought and never spoke +of failure, preferring always as topics more cheerful matters. His wife had +become a permanent invalid very shortly after their marriage, yet no person +could possibly have made the mistake of thinking George Perkins's marriage a +failure. I doubt if a happier married pair could have been found in +Australia.</p> + +<p>The meal we called tea (though we drank tea at every other meal) was +partaken of by Mrs. Gabbitas and myself at half-past five, and by Mr. and Mrs. +Perkins at six o'clock. I was given to understand at the outset that no work +was expected of me after tea. Once or twice of a summer evening I went out into +the garden to perform some trifling task I had overlooked, and upon being seen +there by Mr. Perkins was saluted with some such remark as:</p> + +<p>'Stealing time, Nickperry, stealing time! You an' me'll fall out, my friend, +if you can't manage to keep proper working hours. Applicatiousness is all very +well, but stealing time after tea is gluttish and greedular, and must be put +down with an iron hand, with an iron hand, Nickperry. Tssp! +Howzashorthandgetnon?'</p> + +<p>Before expelling the last interrogative omnibus word, he would clench one +fat fist and knead the air downward with it, to illustrate the process of +putting down greediness with an iron hand.</p> + +<p>I saw comparatively little of him, of course, owing to his preoccupation +with business, his own and that of Dursley and most of its inhabitants; but we +were excellent good friends, and it was rarely that he missed his Sunday +morning walk round the whole place with me, when my week's work would be passed +in more or less humorous review, and the programme for the next week discussed. +After this tour of inspection I generally went to church, and the afternoon I +almost invariably spent in my room over the packing-case. That is a period +which many people give to letter-writing, and it is queer to recall the fact +that, so far as I can remember, I had written only two letters in my life up to +this period--one to a Sydney bookseller, whose address I got from Mr. Perkins, +and one to Mr. Rawlence, the Sydney artist, to tell him of my present position, +and to say that I had made a start upon shorthand. His kindly and encouraging +reply was, I think, the first letter I ever received through the post. But I +now began to write letters by the score, addressed to imaginary correspondents, +and based in style upon my studies of correspondence in various books. These +epistles, however, all ended their brief careers under the kindling wood in +Mrs. Gabbitas's kitchen grate.</p> + +<p>'Applicatious and industrial, with bettermentatious ambitions,' Mr. Perkins +had said of me within a few moments of our first meeting, and at this period I +think I justified the sense of his comment. My daily work was pleasant enough, +of course, healthy and not fatiguing. Still, it was perhaps odd in a youth of +my age that I should have had no desire for recreation or amusement. My study +of shorthand did not interest me in the faintest degree; but I was greatly +interested by my growing mastery of it, because I thought of the mastery of +shorthand, as Mr. Rawlence had described it, as a very valuable means to an +end, to various ends. I thought of it, in short, as the key which should open +Sydney's doors to me; for, happy as my life was in Dursley, I never regarded it +in any other light than as a useful preliminary to the next stage of my career. +And that again, from all I have since been told, was hardly an attitude proper +to my years.</p> + +<p>It certainly was not due to any conscious discontent with my life and work +in Dursley. I must suppose it was the beginning of that restless temperamental +itch which all through life has made me regard everything I did as no more than +the necessary prelude to some more or less vague thing I meant presently to do, +which should be much better worth doing. A praiseworthy doctrine I have heard +it called. It may be. But I would like to be able to warn all and sundry who +cultivate or inculcate it in this present century, that the margin between it +and the wastefully extravagant body and soul-devouring restlessness which I +sometimes think the key-note of our time--the margin is a perilously slender +one.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Every day the <em>Sydney Morning Herald</em> was delivered at the Perkins's +establishment, and every evening it reached the kitchen at tea-time. Mrs. +Gabbitas regarded it as a very useful journal for fire-lighting purposes, but +having no other interest in it was quite agreeable to its being out-of-date by +one day when it reached her hands. Thus the daily newspaper became my +perquisite each evening, to be returned faithfully in the morning with the +day's supply of fuel, in order that it might duly fulfil its higher and more +serviceable destiny in Mrs. Gabbitas's stove.</p> + +<p>For quite a long time I never scanned the news columns of that really +admirable newspaper. I might have thought that their perusal would have been +helpful to me, especially as I cherished vague ideas of one day earning my +living in a newspaper office. But, for the time, my mind was too much occupied +with thoughts of another means to an end--shorthand. The longest chunks of +unbroken letterpress were the leading articles. For months I never looked +beyond them, and never stopped short of copying out at least one column of +them, and often more, especially in those misguided early days before I awoke +to the stern necessity of reading over every written line of shorthand.</p> + +<p>I am afraid the leader-writers' eloquence and style--real and ever-present +features in this journal's pages--were entirely wasted upon me. I copied them +with slavish lack of thought, intent only on my shorthand, and most generally +upon the physical difficulty of keeping my eyes open. I invariably fell asleep +three or four times before finishing my allotted task, and only managed to keep +awake for the reading of it by standing erect beside the packing-case and +reading aloud. How it would have astonished those gifted leader-writers if they +could have walked past, overheard me, and recognised in my halting, drowsy +declamation their own well-rounded periods!</p> + +<p>As I read the last word my spirits always rose instantly, and my craving for +sleep left me. With keen anticipatory pleasure I would fold up the newspaper +ready for the morning, take one look out from the doorway to note the weather, +shed my clothes, snuff the candle, and climb luxuriously into bed with the +current book, whatever it might be. No newspaper for me. This was real reading, +and while I read in bed (travel, biography, and fiction) I lived exclusively in +the life my author depicted. Vanished utterly for me were Dursley and its +worthy folk, and Australia too for that matter. Practically all the books I +read carried me to the Old World, and most often to England, which for me was +rapidly becoming a synonym for romance, charm, interest, culture, and all the +good things of which one dreams. Everything desirable, and not noticeable or +recognised as being in my daily life, I grew gradually to think of as being +part and parcel of English life. I did not as yet long to go to England. One +does not long to visit the moon. But when some well-wrought piece of +atmosphere, some happy turn of speech, some inspiring glimpse of high and noble +motives or tender devotion, caught and held me, in a book, I would sigh quietly +and say to myself:</p> + +<p>'Ah, yes; in England!'</p> + +<p>Looking back upon it, I am rather pleased with myself for the stubborn +persistence with which I slogged away at the shorthand; because it never once +touched my interest. For me, it was a veritable treadmill. And, for that +reason, I suppose, I was never really good at it. I have no doubt whatever that +it had real value for me as a disciplinary exercise.</p> + +<p>And then my candle would gutter and expire. I have sometimes, by means of +sitting up in bed, holding the book high, and using great concentration, +devoured a whole chapter between the first sputtering sound of the candle's +death-rattle and the moment of its actual demise. Indeed, I have more than once +finished a chapter, when within half a page of it, by matchlight. But that, of +course, was gross extravagance. Our candles seemed to me abominably short, and +I once tried to seduce Mrs. Gabbitas into allowing me two at a time; but she, +good soul, wisely said that one was more than I had any right to burn in an +evening, and I was too miserly to buy them for myself.</p> + +<p>Yes, it seems horribly unnatural in a youth, but I am afraid I was rather +miserly at that time. I wanted passionately to do various things. Precisely +what, I had never so far thought out. But I did not desire the less ardently +for that. I suppose the thing I wanted was to 'better myself,' as the servants +say. Was I not a servant? Without ever reasoning the matter out, I felt +strongly that the possession of some money, a certain store, was very necessary +to my well-being; that in some mysterious way it would add immensely to my +chances, to my strength in the world; that it would put me on a footing +superior to that I had at present. I even thought of it, in my innocence, as +Capital. Many of my musings used to begin with: 'If a fellow has Capital'--and +I believed that if he had not this magic talisman his position was very +different and inferior. I thought of the world's hewers of wood and drawers of +water as being the folk who had no Capital; the others as the people who had +somehow acquired possession of the talisman. And I suppose I wanted to be of +the company of the others.</p> + +<p>Ten shillings a week means twenty-six pounds a year; and I very well +remember that on the first anniversary of my entering Mr. Perkins's employ, my +Government Savings Bank book showed a balance to my credit of twenty-two pounds +three and fourpence. This sum, I decided, might fairly rank as Capital; it +really merited the august name, I felt, being actually above the sum of twenty +pounds. Eighteen pounds was a respectable nest-egg. Yes, but twenty-three [sic] +pounds three and fourpence--that was Capital; and I now definitely took rank, +however humbly, among the people who possessed the talisman. I realised very +well that I was poor; that this sum of money was not a large one. Still, it was +Capital, and, as such, it gave me a deal of satisfaction, and more of +confidence than I could have had without it. I am certain of that. What a pity +it is that one cannot always, later in life, obtain the same secure and +confident feeling by virtue of possessing twenty pounds!</p> + +<p>This meant that I had spent less than four pounds in the year. But no; Mr. +Perkins gave me ten shillings, and Mrs. Perkins five shillings, at Christmas +time. Also, I won ten shillings as a prize in a competition arranged by the +<em>Dursley Chronicle</em>. It was for the best five hundred word description +of an Australian scene, and I described Livorno Bay and its derelict; and, as I +thought at the time--quite mistakenly, I am sure--described them rather well. +Apart from a book or two I had bought practically nothing, save boots and socks +and a Sunday suit of clothes. Mrs. Perkins had kindly supplied quite a stock of +shirts for me, by means of operations performed upon old shirts of her +husband's. My Sunday suit of clothes had occupied me greatly for some weeks. I +had never before bought clothing of any kind. After two or three visits to the +store, and many talks at mealtimes with Mrs. Gabbitas, I finally decided upon +blue serge.</p> + +<p>'It do show the dust, but it don't show the wear so much as the rest of +'em,' was the Gabbitular verdict which finally settled this momentous business. +A tie to match was given in with the suit, a concession which I owed entirely +to Mrs. Gabbitas's determined enterprise. The tie was of satin, and, taken in +conjunction with a neatly arranged wad of silk handkerchief, extraordinarily +variegated in colour (Mrs. Gabbitas's present), protruding from the +breast-pocket of the new coat, it produced on the first Sunday after its +purchase an effect which I found at once arresting and sedately rich. My +looking-glass was not more than six inches square, but, by propping it up on a +chair, and receding from it gradually, I was able to obtain a very fair view of +my trousers; while, by replacing it on the wall, and observing my reflection +carefully from different angles, I was able to judge of most parts of the coat +and waistcoat.</p> + +<p>After a good deal of thought, I decided that the best effect was obtained by +fastening the top button of the coat, turning back one lower corner with +careful negligence, and keeping it there by holding one hand in my trouser +pocket. In that order, then, I interviewed Mrs. Gabbitas in the scullery, to +receive her congratulations before proceeding to church. Altogether, it was a +day of pleasing excitement; but, greatly though it intrigued me, the purchase +left me as much a miser as ever, my only other extravagance for a long time +being a cream-coloured parasol--my present to Mrs. Gabbitas; and---I may as +well confess it--I could not have brought myself to buy that, but for the fact +that it was called 'slightly shop-soiled,' and had been 'marked down' from 8s. +11d. to 4s. 10 1/2d.</p> + +<p>Yes, for a youth of sixteen years, I fear it must be admitted that I was +unnaturally parsimonious, and a good deal of what schoolboys used to call a +smug and a swatter. It really was curious, because I do not recall that I had +any ambition to be actually rich. Mr. Smiles and his <em>Self Help</em> would +have left me cold if I had read that classic. I indulged no Whittingtonian +dreams of knighthood, mayoral chains, vast commercial or financial operations, +or anything of that sort. The things that interested me were largely unreal. I +was immensely appealed to, I remember, by a phase in the career of Charles +Reade's <em>Griffith Gaunt</em>, in which that gentleman lived incognito for +awhile in a remote rural inn, and wooed (if he did not actually marry) the +buxom daughter of the house, while his real wife was being accused of having +murdered him. I think that was the way of it. I know the sojourn in that +isolated inn--I pictured its lichen-grown walls; a place that would be +approached quite nearly in the stilly night by wild woodland +creatures--appealed to me as a wholly delightful episode.</p> + +<p>I never had a dream of commercial triumphs. I did not think of fame. For +what was I striving? And why did I so assiduously save? It is not easy to +answer these questions. I find the thing puzzles me a good deal. There was my +means-to-an-end attitude; but what was the precise end in view? If one comes to +that I have been striving all my life long, and to what end? I know this, that +in the midst of my physical content as a handy lad in a comfortable home, I had +at least thought definitely of my future up to a certain point. I had told +myself that there were two kinds of people in the world: the hewers of wood and +drawers of water, earning a mere living, as I was earning mine, by the labour +of their hands; and the others. I knew very little of what the others did, and +had no very definite plan or desire to follow, myself, any of their +occupations. But I did know that I wished to live in their division of the +community. I wished to be one of those others. I should be unworthy of my +father if I did not presently take my place among those others. And, I suppose, +the only practical steps in that direction which I knew of and could take were +the saving of my wages and the study of shorthand. I think that was about the +way of it. And if my diligence with regard to these two matters may be taken as +the measure of my desire to join the ranks of the others, it is safe to say I +must have desired it very much indeed.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Every one has noticed the odd vividness with which certain apparently +unmemorable episodes stand out among one's recollections, though the details of +far more important occasions have become merged in the huge and nebulous mist +of the things one has forgotten. (Memory is a longish gallery, but the mass of +that which is unremembered, how enormous this is!)</p> + +<p>I recall a Sunday evening in Dursley. I had been to church, a rare thing for +me, of an evening, to hear a strange, visiting parson; a man who had done +missionary work in east London and in Northern Queensland. I remember nothing +that he said, and nothing occurred that night to make it memorable for me. And +yet ...</p> + +<p>The aftermath of the sunset beyond Dursley valley was very beautiful. It +often was. Venus shone out with mellow brilliance a little to the right of the +church. The air was full of bush scents, and somewhere, not far from where I +stood, dead brushwood was burning and diffusing abroad the aromatic pungency +that fire draws from eucalyptus leaves.</p> + +<p>Gradually, I was overcome by that sense of the infinitely romantic +potentialities of life which I suppose overpowers all young people at times; +and, more especially, rather lonely young people. The main events of my short +life filed past before me in review against the background of an exquisitely +melancholy evening sky, illumined by one perfect star. Even this dim light was +further softened for me presently by the moisture that gathered in my eyes; +tears that pricked with a pain that was almost intolerably sweet. I recalled +how, as a child, I had longed to see strange and far-off lands; how I had +bragged to servants and childish companions that I would travel. And then, how +I had travelled--the <em>Ariadne</em>, my companions, my father, the derelict, +Livorno Bay. And then, the blow that cut off all I had held by, and made of me +an unconsidered scrap, owning nothing, and owned by nobody.</p> + +<p>I had been very miserable at the Orphanage. Yes, there was distinct pleasure +in recalling and weighing the sum of my unhappiness at St. Peter's. I had +longed to be quit of it; I had willed to be out in the open world, free to make +what I could of my own life. And, behold, I was free. My will had accomplished +this, had brushed aside the restraining bonds of the whole organisation +supervised by Father O'Malley. I, a friendless, bare-legged orphan had done +this, because I desired to do it. And now I was a recognised and respectable +unit in a free community, earning and paying my way with the best. (I was +pleasantly conscious of my blue serge suit, the satin tie, and the +multi-coloured silk handkerchief.) I was possessed of Capital--more than twenty +pounds; quite a substantial little sum in excess of twenty pounds, even without +the interest shortly to be added thereto. Finally, that very evening, had I not +been addressed as 'Mister Freydon,' I, the erstwhile bare-footed 'inmate' of +St. Peter's? There was nothing of bathos, nothing in the least ludicrous, to me +in this last reflection.</p> + +<p>'It's nothing, of course,' I told myself, with proud deprecation; 'and he's +only a shop assistant. But there it is. It does show something after all. And, +besides, he is a member of the School of Arts Committee!'</p> + +<p>The 'he' in this case was, of course, the person who had shown discernment +enough to address me as 'Mister Freydon.' And, deprecate as I might, the thing +had given me a thrill of deep and real satisfaction. Merely recalling the sound +of it added to the exaltation of my mood, and to my obsession by the wonder, +the romance of the various transitions of my life.</p> + +<p>The hazards of life, the wonder of it all--this it was that filled my mind. +How would Ted be struck by it? I thought. And there and then I composed in my +mind the letter which should accompany my return of the pound he had given me +when I could find an address to which it could be sent. There should be no +flinching here, no blinking the exact truth. I may have been an insufferable +young prig and snob. Very likely I was. As I recall it that letter, composed +while I gazed across the valley at the evening star, was informed by a sort of +easy condescension and friendly patronage. Grateful, yes, but with a faint +hint, too, that Ted had been rather fortunate, a little honoured perhaps in +having enjoyed the privilege of assisting, however slightly, in the launch of +my career. At one time I had gladly regarded it as a present. That, it seemed, +was a blunder of my remote infancy. Honest Ted's pound was a loan, of course, +and like any other honourable man I should naturally repay the loan!</p> + +<p>Musing in this wise I turned away from the evening star, and walked very +slowly past the dairy and the wash-house to my own little room. Now the odd +thing was that, though I seemed to have given not one single thought to the +future, though I seemed to have made no plan, but, on the contrary, to have +confined myself exclusively to the idlest sort of musing upon the past, yet, as +I walked into my dark room, I knew that I had definitely decided to leave +Dursley at once, and take the next step in my career. I actually whispered to +myself:</p> + +<p>'It's a good little room. I shall miss this room. I shall often think of the +nights I've spent here.'</p> + +<p>All this, as though my few belongings had been packed, and I had arranged to +depart next morning; though, in fact, I had not given a single conscious +thought to the matter of leaving Dursley until I turned my back on the evening +star.</p> + +<p>Next morning at breakfast I told Mrs. Gabbitas I meant to leave and make for +Sydney; and Mrs. Gabbitas gave me to understand that, with all their infinite +varieties of foolishness, most young fellows shared one idiosyncrasy in common: +they none of them had sense enough to know when they were well off. I spoke of +my shorthand, and said I had not been working at it for nothing. Mrs. Gabbitas +sniffed, and expressed very plainly the doubts she felt about shorthand ever +providing me with meals of the kind I enjoyed at her kitchen table.</p> + +<p>'I suppose the fact is gardening isn't good enough for you, and you want to +be a gentleman,' the good soul said, with sounding irony. And, whilst I made +some modestly deprecatory sound in reply, my thoughts said: 'You are precisely +right.'</p> + +<p>With news in hand I have no doubt Mrs. Gabbitas took an early opportunity of +a chat with Mrs. Perkins. At all events I had no sooner got my lawn-mower to +work that morning than the mistress called me to her where she lay on the +verandah.</p> + +<p>'Is it true we're going to lose you, Nick?' she said very kindly. And, as my +irritating way still was, I blushed confusedly as I endorsed the report.</p> + +<p>'Well, of course, we knew we should, sooner or later; and, though we'll be +sorry to lose you, you are right to go; quite right. I am sure of that, and so +is Geo--so is Mr. Perkins. But have you got a situation to go to, Nick?'</p> + +<p>I told her I had not, and that I did not think I could secure a berth in +Sydney while I was still in Dursley.</p> + +<p>'No, no, perhaps not,' she said musingly. 'You must talk to Mr. Perkins +about it, and I will, too. What made you decide on going now, Nick?'</p> + +<p>'I--I don't know,' I replied awkwardly. And then the sweet kindliness of her +face emboldened me to add: 'I was just thinking last night--thinking about my +life as I looked at the sky where the sunset had been, and--somehow, I found I +was decided.' Then, as if to justify if possible the exceeding lameness of my +explanation: 'You see, Mrs. Perkins, I've got the hang of the shorthand pretty +well now,' I added.</p> + +<p>She nodded sympathetically. 'Well, I'm sure you'll succeed, Nick, I'm sure +you will; for you're a good lad, and very persevering. The main thing is being +a good lad, Nick; that's the main thing. It's sad for you, having lost your +parents, and--and everything. But when you go away, Nick, just try to think of +me as if I were your mother, will you? I'll be thinking quite a lot of you, you +know. Don't you go and fancy there's nobody cares about you. We shall all be +thinking a lot about you. And, Nick, if ever you find yourself in any trouble, +if you begin to feel you're going wrong in any way, if you feel like doing +anything you know is wrong, or if you feel downhearted and lonesome--you just +get into a train and come to Dursley, Nick. Come straight here to me, and tell +me everything about it, and--and I think I'll be able to help you. I'll try, +anyhow; and you'll know I should want to. And if it isn't easy to come tell me +just the same; write and tell me all about it. Promise me that, Nick.'</p> + +<p>I promised her. She held out her white, thin hand and clasped my hard hand +in it; and I went off to my mowing very conscious of my eyes because they +smarted and pricked, but little indebted to them because they failed to show me +anything more definite than a blur of greenery at my feet, and a blur of +sunlight above.</p> + +<p>A fortnight elapsed before I did really leave that place; but for me most of +the emotion of leaving, of parting with my kindly employers and friends, and +with pretty, peaceful Dursley, was epitomised in that little conversation on +the verandah with Mrs. Perkins. I know now that there are many other sweet and +kindly women in the world. At that time no one among them had ever been so +sweet and kind to me.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>When I stepped out of the train at Redfern Station in Sydney, I carried all +my worldly belongings in a much worn carpet-bag which had been given me by Mr. +Perkins. Its weight did not at all suggest to me the need of obtaining a +porter's services, and hardly would have done so even if I had been accustomed +to engaging assistance of the sort. Stepping out with my bag into the bustle of +the capital city I walked, as one who knew his way, to where the noisy and +malodorous old steam tram-cars started, and made my way by tram to Circular +Quay. (I had had my directions in Dursley.) Here I boarded a ferry-boat, and at +the cost of one penny was carried across the shining waters of the harbour to +North Shore. Half an hour later I had mounted the hill, found Mill Street and +Bay View Villa, and actually become a boarder and a lodger there, with a +latch-key of my own.</p> + +<p>The landlady having left the bedroom to which she had escorted me, my +carefully sustained nonchalance fell from me; I turned the key in the door, and +sat down on the edge of my bed with a long-drawn sigh. The celerity, the +extraordinary swiftness of the whole business left me almost breathless.</p> + +<p>'Yesterday,' I told myself, as one recounting a miracle, 'I was planting out +young tomatoes in Mr. Perkins's garden in Dursley. Only a few minutes ago I was +still in the train. And now--now I'm a lodger, and this is my room, and--I'm a +lodger!'</p> + +<p>I did not seem able to get beyond that just then, though later on, with a +recollection of a certain passage in a favourite novel, I tried the sound, in a +whisper, of:</p> + +<p>'Mr. Nicholas Freydon was now comfortably installed in rooms on the shady +side of--North Shore.' At the same time I ran over a few variants upon such +easy phrases as: 'My rooms at North Shore,' 'Snug quarters,' 'My +boarding-house,' 'My landlady,' and the like.</p> + +<p>One must remember that I was less than two years distant from St. Peter's +and from Sister Agatha and her cane.</p> + +<p>There were two beds in my room; one small and the other very small. I was +sitting on the very small one. The other belonged to Mr. William Smith, whose +real name might quite possibly have been something else. For already, though I +had not seen him, I had gathered that my room-mate was an elderly man with a +history, of which this much was generally admitted: that he had seen much +better days, and was a married man separated from his wife.</p> + +<p>'But a pleasanter, kinder-hearted, nicer-spoken gentleman you couldn't wish +to meet, that I will say,' Mrs. Hastings, the landlady, had told me. 'Which,' +she added, after a pause given to reflection, with eyes downcast, 'if he was +otherwise I should not've thought of letting a share of his room to anybody +with recommendations from me nephew in Dursley--not likely. No, nor for that +matter, of havin' him in my house at all.'</p> + +<p>My landlady was an aunt of that Mr. Jokram who had earned distinction (apart +from his membership of the School of Arts Committee) by being the first to +address me as 'Mister Freydon.' This good man had taken a most friendly +interest in my outsetting, and had written off at once to his aunt to know if +she could include me among her boarders. Mrs. Hastings had explained that she +was 'Full up as per usual, but if your gentleman friend would care to share Mr. +Smith's bedroom, him being as quiet and respectable a gentleman as walks, it +will be easy to put in another bed.'</p> + +<p>This was before any mention had been made of terms. These, we subsequently +learned, ranged from a minimum of 17s. 6d. per week, including light and use of +bath. Later, the nephew was able to obtain special concessions for me, as the +result of which I had the opportunity of securing all the amenities of Mrs. +Hastings's refined home, including a share of Mr. Smith's room, and such plain +washing as did not call for the use of starch--all for the very moderate charge +of 16s. weekly.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that, although a stranger and without friends in Sydney, I was +able to go direct into my new quarters, without any loss of time or money; an +important consideration even for a capitalist whose fortune at this time +amounted to something nearer thirty than twenty pounds. (Mr. Perkins had given +me an extra month's wages. Mrs. Perkins had supplemented this by half a +sovereign, six pairs of socks, three linen shirts, and half a dozen collars; +and Mrs. Gabbitas had given me a brand new Bible and Prayer-book, with ornate +bindings and perfectly blinding type, and another of the silk handkerchiefs +coloured like a tropical sunset.)</p> + +<p>'I shall not be in to tea this evening, Mrs. Hastings, I said, with fine +carelessness, as I left the house, after unpacking my belongings and paying a +visit to the bathroom, an apartment formed by taking in a section of the back +verandah. (The bath was of the same material as the verandah roof--galvanised +iron.) 'I've got some business in Sydney that will keep me rather late.'</p> + +<p>The good woman rather pierced my carefully assumed guise of nonchalance by +the smile with which she said: 'Oh, very well, Mr. Freydon; I hope you'll not +be kept too late--by business.'</p> + +<p>'How in the world did she guess?' I thought as I walked down to the ferry. +It may be that the virus of city life had in some queer way already entered my +veins. Here was I, the parsimonious 'handy lad,' who had been saving ninety per +cent. of my wages and never indulging myself in any way, actually contemplating +the purchase of an evening meal in Sydney, while becoming indebted for an +evening meal I should never eat in North Shore; to say nothing of making +deceitful remarks about being detained by business, when I had deliberately +made up my mind to postpone all business until the next day. Truly, I was +making an ominous start in the new life; or so my twitching conscience told me, +as I sat enjoying the harbour view from the deck of the ferry-boat which took +me to Circular Quay.</p> + +<p>My notion of dissipation and extravagance would have proved amusing to the +bloods of that day, and merely incredible to those of the present time. There +was an unnecessary twopence for the ferry--admitting the whole business to have +been unnecessary. There was sixpence for a meal, consisting of tea and a +portentous allowance of scones with butter. There was threepence for a packet +of cigarettes ('colonial' tobacco), the first I had ever smoked, and a purchase +which had actually been decided upon some days previously. Finally, there was +fourpence for a glass of colonial wine in a George Street wine-shop; and this +also, like the rest of the outing, had been practically decided upon before I +left Dursley. But with regard to the wine there had been reservations. The +cigarettes were certainly to be tried. The wine was to be had if circumstances +proved favourable, and such a plunge seemed at the time desirable. It did; and +so I may suppose the outing was successful.</p> + +<p>During my wanderings up and down the city streets, I examined carefully the +vestibules of various places of amusement--rather dingy most of them were at +that date--but had no serious thought of penetrating further. The shops, the +road traffic, and the people intrigued me greatly, but especially the people, +the unending streams of lounging men, women, and children. Some, no doubt, were +on business bent; but the majority appeared to me to take their walking very +easily, and every one seemed to be chattering. My life since as a child I left +England had all been spent in sparsely populated rural surroundings, and the +noisy bustle of Sydney impressed me very much, as I imagine the Strand would +impress a Dartmoor lad, born and bred, on his first visit to London.</p> + +<p>It did not oppress me at all. On the contrary, I felt pleasantly stimulated +by it. Life here seemed very clearly and emphatically articulate; it marched +past me in the streets to a stirring strain. There were no pauses, no silences, +no waiting. And then, too, one felt that things were happening all the time. +The atmosphere was full of stir and bustle. Showy horses and carriages went +spanking past one; cabs were pulled up with a jerk, and busily talking men +clambered out from them, carelessly handing silver to the driver, as though it +were a thing of no consequence, and passing from one's sight within doors, +waving cigars and talking, talking all the time. Obviously, big things were +toward; not one to-day and one to-morrow, but every hour in every street. +Fortunes were being made and lost; great enterprises planned and launched; +great crimes, too, I supposed; and crucial meetings and partings.</p> + +<p>Yes, this was the very tide of life, one felt; and with what pulsing, +irresistible strength it ebbed and flowed along the city highways! Among all +these thousands of passers-by no one guessed how closely and with what +inquisitive interest I was observing them. I suppose I must have covered eight +or ten miles of pavement before walking self-consciously into that wine-shop, +and sitting down beside a little metal table. I know now that, with me, +nervousness generally takes the form of marked apparent nonchalance. Doubtless, +this is due to concentrated effort in my youth to produce this effect. I did +not know the name of a single Australian wine; but I remembered some +enthusiastic comment of my father's upon the 'admirable red wine of the +country,' so I ordered a glass of red wine, and, with an amused stare, the +youth in attendance served me.</p> + +<p>Like many of the wines of the country it was fairly potent stuff, and rather +sweet than otherwise, probably an Australian port. I sipped it with the air of +one who generally devoted a good portion of his evenings to such dalliance, and +ate several of the thin biscuits which lay in a plate on the table. Meanwhile, +I observed closely the other sippers. They were all in couples, and the +snatches of their conversation which I heard struck me as extraordinarily +dramatic in substance; most romantic, I thought, and very different from the +leisurely, languid gossip of those who draw patterns in the dust with their +clasp-knives, and converse chiefly about 'baldy-faced steers,' 'good feed,' +'heavy bits o' road,' and the like, with generous intervals of say ten or +twelve minutes between observations. These folk in the wine-shop, on the +contrary, tripped over one another in their talk; their hands and shoulders and +brows all played a part, as well as their lips, and their glances were charged +with penetrant meaning.</p> + +<p>As I made my way gradually down to Circular Quay and the ferry, some one +stepped out athwart my path from a shadowy doorway, and I had a vision of +straw-coloured hair, pale skin, scarlet lips, a woman's figure.</p> + +<p>'Going home, dear? What about coming with me? Come on, de-ear!'</p> + +<p>Somehow I knew all about it. Not from talk, I am sure. Possibly from +reading; possibly by instinct. I felt as though the poor creature had hit me +across the face with a hot iron. I tried to answer her, but could not. She +barred my path, one hand on my arm. It was no use; I could not get words out. +Those waiting seconds were horrible. And then I turned and fairly ran from her, +a rather hoarse laugh pursuing me among the shadows as I went.</p> + +<p>It was horrible, and affected me for hours. But it did not spoil my outing. +No, I think on the whole it added to the general excitation. I had a sense of +having stepped right out into the deep waters of life, of being in the current. +The drama of life was touching me now; its sombre and tragical side as well as +the rest of it.</p> + +<p>'This really is life,' I told myself as the ferry bore me among twinkling +lights across the harbour. 'This is the big world, and Dursley hardly was.'</p> + +<p>It stirred me deeply. The harbour itself; the dim, mysterious outlines of +ships, the dancing water, the sense of connection with the world outside +Australia, the very latch-key in my pocket, and the thought that I would +presently be going to bed at my lodgings, in a room shared by an experienced +and rather mysterious man, with a past; all combined to produce in me a +stirring alertness to the adventurous interest of life.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>One of the odd things about that first evening of mine in Sydney was that it +introduced me to the tobacco habit, one of the few indulgences which I have +never at any time since relinquished. I smoked several cigarettes that evening, +with steadily increasing satisfaction. And, on the following day, acting on the +advice of my room-mate, Mr. Smith, I bought a shilling briar pipe and a +sixpenny plug of black tobacco as a week's allowance. From that point my +current outgoings were increased by just sixpence per week, no less, and for a +considerable period, no more.</p> + +<p>For some days, at least, and it may have been for longer, Mr. William Smith +became the mentor to whom I owed the most of such urban sophistication as I +acquired. He was a very kindly and practical mentor, worldly, but in many +respects not a bad adviser for such a lad so situated. When I recall the stark +ugliness of his views and advice to me regarding a young man's needs and +attitude generally where the opposite sex was concerned, I suppose I must admit +that a moralist would have viewed my tutor with horror. But, particularly at +that period, I am not sure that the average man of the world, in any walk of +life, would have differed very much from Mr. Smith in this particular matter. +One could imagine some quite worthy colonels of regiments giving not wholly +dissimilar counsel to a youngster, I think.</p> + +<p>Morning and evening Mr. Smith applied some sort of cosmetic to his fine grey +moustache, which kept its ends like needles. He always wore white or +biscuit-coloured waistcoats, and was scrupulously particular about his linen. +He generally had an air of being fresh from his bath. His thin hair was never +disarranged, and his mood seemed to be cheerfully serene. Summer heats drew +plentiful perspiration from him, but no sign of languor or irritation. On +Sunday mornings he stayed in bed till ten-thirty, with the <em>Sydney +Bulletin</em>, and on the stroke of eleven o'clock he invariably entered the +church at the corner of Mill Street. I used to marvel greatly at this, because +he never missed his bath, and his Sunday morning appearance gave the impression +that his toilet had received the most elaborate attention. He carried an ivory +crutch-handled malacca walking-stick, and in church I used to think of him as +closely resembling Colonel Newcome. His voice was a mellow baritone, he never +missed any of the responses; and the odour which hung about him of soap and +water, cosmetic, light yellow kid gloves, and good tobacco--he smoked a golden +plug, very superior to my cheap, dark stuff--seemed to me at that time richly +suggestive of luxury, sophistication, distinction, and knowledge of affairs.</p> + +<p>Many years have passed since I set eyes on Mr. Smith, and no doubt he has +long since been gathered to his fathers; but I believe I am right in saying +that his was a rather remarkable character. I know now that he really was a +dipsomaniac of a somewhat unusual kind. At ordinary times he touched no +stimulant of any sort. But at intervals of about three months he disappeared, +quite regularly and methodically, and always with a handbag. To what place he +went I do not know. Neither I think did Mrs. Hastings or his employers. At the +end of a week he would reappear, clothed as when he went away, but looking ill +and shaken. For a few days afterwards he was always exceedingly subdued, ate +little, and talked hardly at all. But by the end of a week he was himself +again, and remained perfectly serene and normal until the time of his next +disappearance. I once happened to see the contents of the handbag. They +consisted of an old, rather ragged Norfolk coat and trousers and a suit of +pyjamas; nothing else.</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith was a sort of time-keeper at the works of Messrs. Poutney, Riggs, +Poutney and Co., the wholesale builders' and masons' material people. I was +informed that he had once been the chief traveller for this old-established +firm, on a salary of seven hundred pounds a year, with a handsome commission, +and all travelling expenses paid. His salary now was two pounds twelve +shillings and sixpence a week; and I apprehend that his services were retained +by the firm rather by virtue of what he had done in the past than for the sake +of what he was doing at this time. I was told that commercial travelling in New +South Wales, when Mr. Smith had been in his prime, was a dashing profession +which produced many drunkards. But from Mr. Smith himself I never heard a word +about his previous life.</p> + +<p>I recall many small kindnesses received at his hands, and at the outset the +domestic routine of my Sydney life was largely arranged for me by Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>'Never wear a collar more than once, or a white shirt more than twice,' was +one of the first instructions I received from him. Subsequently he modified +this a little for me, upon economic grounds, advising me to take special care +of my shirt on Sunday, in order that it might serve for Monday and Tuesday. +'Then you've two days each for the other two shirts in each week, you see. But +socks and collars you change every day. In Sydney you must never wear a +coloured shirt; always a stiff, white shirt, in Sydney.'</p> + +<p>On my second evening there Mr. Smith took me to a hatter's shop and chose a +billycock hat for me, in place of the soft felt which I usually wore.</p> + +<p>'You must have a hard hat in Sydney,' he said, 'except in real hot weather; +and then you could wear a flat straw, if you liked. I prefer a grey hard hat +for summer. But straw will do for a youngster. You should have a pair of +gloves, for Sunday, you know. They're useful, too, for interviewing +principals.'</p> + +<p>One might have fancied that gloves were a kind of passport, or perhaps a +skeleton key guaranteed to open principals' doors. It was Mr. Smith who first +made me feel that there was a connection between morals, respectability, and +cold baths. To miss the morning tub, as Mr. Smith saw it, was not merely a +calamity but also a disgrace; a thing to make one ashamed; a lapse calculated +seriously to affect character. How oddly that does clash, to be sure, with his +views of a young man's relations with the other sex! And yet, I am not so sure. +Shocked as many people would be by those views, they might admit in them +perhaps a sort of hygienic intention. It was that I fancy, more than anything +else, which did as a fact shock me. As companions, co-equals, fellow-humans, I +believe this curious man absolutely detested women. I wonder what sort of a +wife he had had! ...</p> + +<p>When I come to compare my launch in Sydney with all that I know and have +read of youthful beginnings in Old World centres, I marvel at the luxurious +ease and freedom of Australian conditions. To put it into figures now--my start +in Sydney did not cost me a sovereign. I did not spend two days without earning +more than enough to defray all my modest outgoings. My search for employment, +so far from wearing out shoe-leather, was confined to a single application, to +one brief interview. This was not at all due to any cleverness on my part, but +in the first place to the good offices of Mr. Perkins of Dursley, and in the +second place to the easygoing character of prevailing Australian conditions.</p> + +<p>On the morning after my first evening's dissipation in Sydney, I made my way +to the business premises of Messrs. Joseph Canning and Son, the Sussex Street +wholesale produce merchants and commission agents. This firm had had dealings +with Dursley's Omnigerentual and Omniferacious Agent ever since his first +appearance in that part, and it was no doubt because of this that Mr. Perkins +wrote to them on my behalf. After waiting for a time in a dark little chamber +containing specimens of cream separators and churns, I was taken to the private +room of Mr. Joseph Canning, the senior partner, who, as I was presently to +learn, visited the office chiefly to attend to such out-of-the-way trifles as +my call, to smoke cigars, and to take selected clients out to lunch. The +practical conduct of the business was entirely in the hands of Mr. John, this +gentleman's only son.</p> + +<p>I found Mr. Joseph Canning with his feet crossed on his blotting-pad, his +body tilted far back in his chair, and his first morning cigar tilted far +upward between his teeth, its ash perilously close to one bushy grey +eyebrow.</p> + +<p>'Well, me lad,' he said as I entered, 'how's the Omniferacious one? Blooming +as ever, I hope.'</p> + +<p>I explained that I had left Mr. Perkins in the best of health, and proceeded +to answer, so far as I was able, the string of subsequent questions put to me +regarding the town of Dursley, its principal residents, business progress, and +chief hotel. I gathered that Mr. Canning had paid one visit to Dursley, under +the auspices of its Omnigerentual Agent, and that while there he had contrived, +with Mr. Perkins's assistance no doubt, 'to make that little town fairly +hum.'</p> + +<p>We talked in this strain for some time, and then Mr. Canning rose from his +chair, clearly under the impression that his business with me had been +satisfactorily completed, and prepared to dismiss me cordially, and proceed to +other matters.</p> + +<p>'Ah!' he ejaculated cheerfully, extending his right hand to me, and moving +toward the door. 'Quite pleasant to have a chat about little Dursley. Well, +take care of yourself in the big city, you know--bed by ten o'clock, and that +sort of thing, you know; and--er--never touch anything in the morning. Safest +plan.'</p> + +<p>By this time the door was open, and I, on the threshold, was feeling +considerably bewildered. With a great effort I managed to force out some such +words as:</p> + +<p>'And if you should hear of any sort of situation that I----'</p> + +<p>At that he grabbed my hand again, and pulled me back into the room.</p> + +<p>'Of course, of course! God bless my soul, I'd clean forgotten!' he exclaimed +hurriedly as he strode across to his table and rang a bell.</p> + +<p>'Ask Mr. John to kindly step this way a minute, will ye?' he said to the lad +who answered the bell. 'Forget me name next, I suppose,' he added to me in a +confidential undertone. 'Tut, tut! And I read Perkins's letter again just +before you came in, too! Ah, here you are, John. Come in a minute, will +you?'</p> + +<p>A vigorous-looking fair-haired man of about five-and-thirty came into the +room now, with the air of one who had been interrupted. He wore no coat, and +his spotless shirt-sleeves were held well up on his arms by things like garters +clasped above the elbow.</p> + +<p>'Ah, John,' began his father, 'this is Mr. Perkins's "Nickperry"; you +remember? Nick Freydon.' He referred to a letter on the table. 'Shorthand, you +know, and all that. Well, what about it? D'jew remember?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes, to be sure. Well, what about it?' This seemed to be a favourite +phrase between father and son.</p> + +<p>'Well, what was it you said? Thirty-five bob for a start, eh? Oh, well, +you'll see to it, anyway, won't you? That's right. So long--er--Nickperry!'</p> + +<p>'Good-morning, sir!'</p> + +<p>And with that I found myself following Mr. John along a darkish passage to a +well-lighted apartment, divided by a ground-glass partition from an office in +which I saw perhaps eight or ten clerks at work.</p> + +<p>'Now, Mr. Freydon,' said my guide, as he flung himself into a revolving +chair, and motioned me to another on the opposite side of the table. 'We'll +make it no more than five minutes, please, for I've got a stack of letters to +answer, and some men to see at eleven sharp.'</p> + +<p>And then I had a rather happy inspiration.</p> + +<p>'Do you write your own letters, sir?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Eh? Oh, Lord, yes!' he said brusquely. 'I know some men dictate 'em to +clerks, to be done in copper-plate, an' all that. But, goodness, I can write +'em myself quicker'n that! And we have to be mighty careful to say just the +right kind of thing in our letters, too. It makes a difference.'</p> + +<p>'Well, will you just try dictating one or two to me, sir, and let me take +them in shorthand. Then I would bring them to you when you have seen the +gentlemen at eleven.'</p> + +<p>'Eh? Well, that's rather an idea. Let's have a shot. Here you are then. +Pencil? Right? Well: "Dear Mr. Gubbins, yours of 14th, received with thanks." +Got that? Yes; well, tell him--that is--"You are quite mistaken, I assure you, +about your butter having been held back till the bottom was out of the market." +Old fool's always grousing about his rotten butter. You see, the fact is his +butter is second or third quality stuff, and he reads the quotations in the +paper for the primest, and kicks like a steer because he doesn't get the same, +or a penny more. Always threatening to change his agents, and I wish to God he +would; only, o' course, it doesn't do to tell 'em so. There's a lot like +Gubbins, an' one has to try an' sweeten 'em a bit once a week or so. Yes! Well, +where were we? Eh? That all right?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir. "Yours faithfully," or "Yours truly," sir?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, well, I always say: "'shuring you vour bes' 'tention, bleeve me, yours +faithfully, J. Canning and Son." It pleases them, an'----'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> + +<p>And some of the others were a good deal more sketchy, but fortunately there +were only five in all. I asked Mr. John to let me take the original letters. It +was plain that dictation was not his strong point. Neither, I thought, had he +much idea of letter-writing; whereas I, so I flattered myself, could do it +rather well. At least I had read something about commercial correspondence, and +had also read the published letters of many famous people. So, as soon as I +decently could, I pretended Mr. John had really dictated replies to his five +letters, and that I had recorded his words in indelible shorthand. Then I said +I would run away and write the letters while he kept his engagements.</p> + +<p>'Right!' he said. 'Tell you what. Go into my father's room. He's gone out +now, and you'll find paper and that there.'</p> + +<p>So I made my first practical essay in commercial correspondence from the +chair of the head of the firm, and among the fumes of the head's morning +cigar.</p> + +<p>In an old pocket-book I discovered a year or two ago the draft of the first +letter I wrote for J. Canning and Son. Here it is:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'<em>To</em> Mr. R. B. Gubbins,<br /> +'Ferndale Farm,<br /> +'Unaville, N.S.W.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'Nov. 3rd, 1879.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'Dear Mr. Gubbins,--Thank you for your letter of +the 2nd inst. We have looked carefully into the matter of your complaint, and +are glad to be able to assure you that your fears are quite unnecessary. We +were, of course, prepared to take the matter up seriously with those +responsible, but investigation proved that there had been no delay whatever in +disposing of your last consignment of butter. It happened, however, that an +exceptionally large supply of the very primest qualities were on offer that +morning, and though one or two may have reached higher prices, as the result of +exceptional circumstances, the bulk changed hands at the price obtained for +yours, and many consignments at a lower figure. In several cases the prices +given in the newspapers are either incorrect, or apply only to one or two +special lots.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'In conclusion, permit us to assure you, dear Mr. +Gubbins, that while your interests are entrusted to our hands they will always +receive the closest possible attention, and that nothing will be left undone +which could be in any way of benefit to you.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'Trusting this will make the position perfectly +clear to you, and that you will be under no further anxiety with regard to your +consignments to us, now, or at any future time.--We are, dear Mr. Gubbins, +yours faithfully,'</p> + +<p>In the same unexceptional style I wrote to four other clients, after very +careful perusal of their letters, combined with reflections upon Mr. John's +running commentaries. As I wrote what my father had called 'an almost painfully +legible and blameless hand,' and gave the closest care to these particular +letters, their appearance was tolerably business-like when finished. Carrying +these letters, and those they answered, I now began to reconnoitre passages and +doorways to ascertain the whereabouts and occupation of Mr. John. Presently I +saw him come hurrying in from the street, wiping his lips with a +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>'The letters, sir,' I began.</p> + +<p>'Ah! Got 'em done already? Right. Come into my room.'</p> + +<p>I stood and watched him reading my effusions, at first with upward twitching +brows, and then with smiling satisfaction.</p> + +<p>'H'm!' he said, as he gave them the firm's signature. 'It's a pretty good +thing then, this shorthand. Wonderful the way you've got every little word +down. That "In conclusion, permit us to assure you, dear Mr. Gubbins"--now, +that's as a business letter should be, you know. There's not a house in Sussex +Street turns out such good sweeteners as we do. I've always been very careful +about that. That's how we keep up our connection. These farmers are touchy +beggars, you know; but if only you take the right tone with 'em, you can twist +'em round your little finger. That's why I always lay it on pretty thick in the +firm's letters. It pays, I can assure you.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir.'</p> + +<p>'Well, that's very good, Mr. Freydon; very good. We've never had this +shorthand in the office before; but I think it's time we did, high time. It's +no use my wasting valuable time writing all these letters myself, and with this +shorthand of yours, I believe you can take 'em down as fast as I can say +it--eh?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, sir; easily,' I said, with shameless mendacity. As a fact, neither +that morning, nor at any other time, did I 'take down' what Mr. John said in +shorthand. But it was already apparent to me that he could be made quite happy +by fancying that the letters were of his composition, and I did not conceive +that it was part of my duty to undeceive him.</p> + +<p>'Ah! Well, now, when could you begin work, Mr. Freydon?'</p> + +<p>I smiled, and told him I could go on at once with any further letters he +had.</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; to be sure. Begun already, as you say. Well, I told the old--I +told my father I thought thirty-five shillings a week would-- Well, I'll tell +you what. You go ahead as you've begun, and at the end of a month we'll make +your pay two pounds a week. How'll that suit?'</p> + +<p>'Thank you, sir; that will suit me very well.'</p> + +<p>'Right. By the way, don't say "sir" to me, please. They all call me "Mr. +John," and my father "Mr. Canning." See! Now, I'll just introduce you to Mr. +Meadows, our accountant, and he will show you round. Mr. Meadows has charge of +our clerical staff, you understand; but you'll have most to do with me, of +course. There's a little bit of a room opposite mine, where we keep the +stationery an' that. I dare say you'll be able to work there.'</p> + +<p>In this wise, then, with most fortunate ease, I secured my first employment +in the capital city; and very well it suited me, for the present. Within a week +I found that I was left to open all letters, and to deal with them very much as +I thought best, with references of course to Mr. John, and at times, in a +matter of accounts, to Mr. Meadows, or again to the storekeeper and others. It +was not good shorthand practice, but his correspondence pleased Mr. John very +much--especially its more rotund phrases--whilst for my part I keenly relished +the fact that I, the most junior member of the staff, had really less of +supervision in my work than any one else in the office.</p> + +<p>Upon the whole I was entitled, on that evening of my first day in the Sussex +Street offices, to feel that I had made a tolerably creditable beginning, and +that Sydney had treated the latest suppliant for her favour rather well. What I +very well remember I did feel was that I should have an interesting story for +Mr. William Smith that night when I reached 'my rooms' at North Shore.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>My third day at J. Canning and Son's offices was a Saturday, and the +establishment closed at one o'clock. My room-mate, Mr. Smith, had invited me to +spend the afternoon with him at Manly, the favourite sea-beach resort close to +Sydney Heads. I had other plans in view, but did not like to refuse Mr. Smith, +and so spent the time with him, not without enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Manly was not, of course, the thronged and crowded place it is to-day, but +its Saturday afternoon visitors were fairly numerous, and most of them were +people who showed in a variety of ways that they did not have to consider very +closely the expenditure of a sovereign or so. For our part, Mr. Smith's and +mine, I doubt if our outing cost more than five shillings; and, though I +succeeded in paying my own boat-fares, my companion insisted upon settling +himself for the refreshments we had: a cup of tea in the afternoon, and a sort +of high tea or supper before leaving. I had not begun to tire of watching +people, and was innocent enough to derive keen satisfaction from the thought +that I, too, was one of these city folk, business people, office men, who gave +their Saturday leisure to the quest of ocean breezes and recreation in this +well-known resort.</p> + +<p>Yes, from this distance, it is a little hard to realise perhaps, but it is a +fact that at this particular time I was genuinely proud of being a clerk in an +office, in place of being a handy lad, and one of the manual workers. It was my +lot in later years to dictate considerable correspondence to young men who +practised shorthand and typewriting--they called themselves secretaries, not +correspondence clerks--and I always felt an interest in their characters and +affairs, and endeavoured to show them every consideration. But I cannot say +that those who served me in this capacity ever played just the sort of part I +played as a correspondence clerk in Sussex Street. But they always interested +me, none the less, and I showed them special consideration; no doubt because I +remembered a period when I took much secret pride and satisfaction in having +obtained entrance to their ranks, from what in all countries which I have +visited is accounted a lowlier walk of life. And yet, as I see it now, I must +confess that I am inclined to think the handy lad in the open air has rather +the best of it. I admit this is open to question, however. Fortunately there +are compensations in both cases.</p> + +<p>'For a young fellow you do a lot of thinking,' said Mr. Smith to me as we +walked slowly down to the ferry stage in leaving Manly. Of course I indulged in +one of my idiotic blushes.</p> + +<p>'No; oh no,' I told him. 'I was only watching the people.'</p> + +<p>'Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of in thinking,' he justly said. 'If +most of the youngsters in Sydney did a deal more of it, it would be a lot +better for them.'</p> + +<p>'Ah, you mean thinking about their work.' I knew instinctively, and because +of remarks he had made, that my elderly room-mate thought well of me as being a +very practical lad, seriously determined to get on in the world. And so, also +instinctively, I played up, as they say, to this view of my character, and I +dare say overdid it at times; certainly to the extent of making myself appear +more practical, or more concentrated upon material progress, than I really +was.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I don't know about that,' said Mr. Smith as we boarded the steamer. +'Business isn't the only thing in life, and there are plenty other things worth +thinking about.' Yes, odd as it seems, it was I who was being reminded that +there were other things worth thinking of besides business; I ... 'No, but it +would be better for 'em to do a lot more thinking about all kinds of things. +Thinking is better than running after little chits of girls who ought to be +smacked and put to bed.'</p> + +<p>Two refulgent youths had just passed us, in the wake of damsels whose favour +they apparently sought to win as favour is perhaps won in poultry-yards--by +cackling.</p> + +<p>'I've had to do a powerful lot of talking in my time,' continued Mr. Smith; +'and now I like to see any one, and especially any young fellow, understand +that it's not necessary to talk for talking's sake, and that when you've +nothing particular to say, it's better to be quiet and think, than--than just +to blither, as so many do.'</p> + +<p>I endeavoured to look as much as possible like a deep thinker as I +acquiesced, and made mental note of the fact that I had evidently been rather +neglecting my companion.</p> + +<p>'Mind you,' he added, 'it isn't only in office hours and at his work that a +man makes for success in business. Not a bit of it. It's when he's thinking +things out away from the office. Why, some of the best business I ever brought +off I've really done in bed--the planning out of it, you know.'</p> + +<p>I nodded the understanding sympathy of a wily and experienced hand at +business. I wonder if the average youth is equally adaptive! Probably not, for +I suppose it means I was a good deal of a humbug. All I knew of business, so +far, was what Sussex Street had shown me; and if I had been perfectly candid, I +should have admitted that, so far from striking me as interesting, it seemed to +me absurdly, incredibly dull and uninteresting; so much so as to have a guise +of unreality to me. But my letters interested me none the less.</p> + +<p>The facts of the situation were unreal. I cared nothing about Canning and +Son's profits, or the prices of Mr. Gubbins's butter; nothing whatever. But I +derived considerable satisfaction from turning out a letter the fluent suavity +of which I thought would impress Mr. Gubbins. Primarily, my satisfaction came +from the impression the letters made upon me personally. Also, I enjoyed the +sense of importance it gave me to open the firm's letters myself, and to tell +myself that, given certain bald facts to be acquired from this man or the +other, I could reply to them far better than Mr. John could. I liked to make +him think my smugly correct phrasing was his own, because I knew it was much +more polished, and I thought it much more effective than his own; and I liked +to figure myself a sort of anonymous power behind the throne--the Sussex Street +throne!</p> + +<p>As we breasted the hill together from the North Shore landing-place, Mr. +Smith delivered himself of these sapient words, designed, I am sure, to be of +real help to me:</p> + +<p>'What they call success in life is a simple business, really; only nobody +thinks so, and so very few find it out. They're always looking round for +special dodges, and wasting time following up special methods recommended by +this fool or the other. There's only one thing wanted really for success, and +that's just keeping on. Just keeping on; that's all. If you never let go of +yourself--never, mind you, but just keep on, steady and regular, you can't help +succeeding. It just comes to you. But you must keep on. It's no good having a +shot at this, and trying the other. The way is just to keep on.'</p> + +<p>My mentor was in a seriously practical vein on this Saturday night; partly +perhaps because, as the event proved, he was within four days of one of his +periodical disappearances.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XVI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In the early afternoon of Sunday I set out upon the visit I had originally +intended to pay on the previous day.</p> + +<p>Three o'clock found me rather nervously ringing a bell at the door of Filson +House in Macquarie Street. Under the brightly polished bell-pull was the name +C. F. Rawlence, and the legend: 'Do not ring unless an answer is required.' It +was my first experience of such a notice, and I felt uncertain how it was +intended to apply. Neither for the moment could I understand why in the world +any sane person should ring a bell unless desirous of eliciting a response of +some kind. Finally, I decided that it must be a plaintive and exceedingly +trustful appeal to the good nature of urchins who might be tempted to ring and +run away.</p> + +<p>A smiling young Chinaman presently opened the door to me, and said: 'You +come top-side alonga me, pease; Mr. Lollance he's in.'</p> + +<p>So I walked upstairs behind the silent, felt-shod Asiatic, and wondered what +was coming next. I had hitherto associated Chinamen in Australia exclusively +with market-gardening and laundry work. The house was not a very high one, but +it really was its 'top-side' we walked to, and, arrived there, I was shown into +what I thought must certainly be the largest and most magnificent apartment in +Sydney.</p> + +<p>I dare say the room was thirty feet long by twenty feet wide, without +counting the huge fireplace at one end, which formed a room in itself, and did +actually accommodate several easy chairs, though I cannot think the weather was +ever cold enough in Sydney to admit of people sitting so close to a log fire as +these chairs were placed. There were suits of armour, skins of beasts, strange +weapons, curious tapestries, and other stock properties of artists' studios, +all conventional enough, and yet to me most startling. I had never before +visited a studio, and did not know that artists affected these things. The +magnificence of it all impressed me enormously. It almost oppressed me with a +sense of my own temerity in venturing to visit any one who maintained such +state.</p> + +<p>'This is what it means to be a famous artist,' I told myself, well assured +now, in my innocence, that Mr. Rawlence must be very famous. 'Every one else +probably knew it before,' I thought. And just then the great man himself +appeared, not at the door behind me, but between heavy curtains which hid some +other entrance. He came forward with a welcoming smile. Then, for a moment this +gave place to rather blank inquiry. And then the smile returned and +broadened.</p> + +<p>'Why, it's-- No, it can't be. But it is--my young friend of St. Peter's. I'm +delighted. Welcome to Sydney. Sit down, sit down, and let me have your +news.'</p> + +<p>He reclined in a sidelong way upon a sort of ottoman, and gracefully waved +me to an enormous chair facing him.</p> + +<p>'There are always a few charitable souls who drop in upon me of a Sunday +afternoon, but I'd no idea you would be the first of them to-day.'</p> + +<p>Here was a disturbing announcement for me!</p> + +<p>'Perhaps it would be more convenient if I came one evening, Mr. Rawlence,' I +said awkwardly, half rising from the chair.</p> + +<p>'Tut, tut, my dear lad! Sit down, sit down. Why should other visitors +disturb you? There will only be good fellows like yourself. Ladies are rarities +here on a Sunday. And in any case-- Why, you are quite the man of the world +now.' This with kindly admiration. Then he screwed up his eyes, moved his head +backward and from side to side, as though to correct his view of a picture. +'Just one point out of the picture. Dare I alter it? May I?' And, stepping +forward, he thrust well down in my breast coat pocket Mrs. Gabbitas's gorgeous +silk handkerchief. 'Yes,' as he moved backward again, 'that's better. One never +can see these things for oneself. But let me make sure of your important news +before we are interrupted.'</p> + +<p>So I told my story as well as I could, and Mr. Rawlence was in the act of +expressing his kindly interest therein, when I heard steps and voices on the +stairs below.</p> + +<p>'If you're not otherwise engaged you must stay till these fellows go, Nick,' +said my host. 'We haven't half finished our talk, you know. And--er--if you +should be talking to any one here of--er--your present situation, I should +leave it quite vague, if I were you; secretarial work you know--something of +that sort. We may have some newspaper men here who might be useful to you one +day--you follow me?'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Hail! Good of you to have come, Landon. Ah, Foster! Jones! Good men! Do +find seats. Oh, let me introduce a new arrival--Mr. Nicholas Freydon; Mr. +Landon, the disgracefully well-known painter, Mr. Foster and Mr. Jones, both of +the Fourth Estate, though frequently taken for quite respectable members of +society. We may not have a Fleet Street here, you know, Freydon, but we have +one or two rather decent newspapers, as you may have noticed.'</p> + +<p>He turned to the still smiling young Chinaman. 'Let's have cigars and +cigarettes, Ah Lun.'</p> + +<p>I gathered that I had been presented as a new arrival from England. It was +rather startling; but so far I found that an occasional smile was all that +seemed expected of me, and I was of course anxious to do my best. 'Good thing +I've started smoking,' I thought, as Ah Lun began passing round two massive +silver boxes, with cigars and cigarettes. The visitors were mostly young, +rather noticeably young, I thought, in view of the greying hair over Mr. +Rawlence's temples; and I felt less and less alarmed as I listened to their +talk. In fact, shamelessly disrespectful though the idea was, I found myself, +after a while, wondering whether Mr. Smith might not have called some of the +conversation 'cackle.' And then some technicalities, journalistic and artistic, +began to star the talk, and I meekly rebuked my own presumption. But I have no +doubt whatever that Mr. Smith would have called most of it 'cackle,' and it is +possible he would have been tolerably near the truth.</p> + +<p>Within an hour I had been introduced to perhaps a score of visitors, and Ah +Lun was just as busy as he could be, serving tea, whisky, wine, soda-water, +cigars, cigarettes, sandwiches, and so forth. It was all tremendously exciting +to me. The mere sound of so many voices, apart from anything else, I found +wonderfully stimulating, if a trifle bewildering.</p> + +<p>'This,' I told myself, in a highly impressive, though necessarily +inarticulate stage-whisper of thought, 'This is Society; this is what's called +the Social Vortex; and I am right in the bubbling centre of it.' And then I +thought how wonderful it would have been if Mr. Jokram, of Dursley's School of +Arts Committee, and one or two others--say, Sister Agatha, for example--could +have been permitted to take a peep between the magnificent curtains, and have a +glimpse of me, engaged in brilliant conversation with a celebrity of some kind, +whose neck-tie would have made an ample sash for little Nelly Fane--of me, the +St. Peter's orphan, in Society!</p> + +<p>Truly, I was an innocent and unlicked cub. But I believe I managed to pull +through the afternoon without notably disgracing my distinguished host and +patron; and, too, without referring even to 'secretarial work.' I might have +been heir to a dukedom, a distinguished remittance man, or even a congenital +idiot, for all the company was allowed to gather from me as to my means of +livelihood.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XVII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Towards six o'clock the company began to thin out somewhat, and within the +hour I found myself once more alone with Mr. Rawlence.</p> + +<p>'Well, and what do you think of these few representatives of Sydney's +Bohemia?' asked my host. 'They are not, perhaps, leading pillars of our +official society, as one may say--the Government House set, you know--but my +Sunday afternoon visitors are apt to be pretty fairly representative of our +best literary and artistic circles, I think. Interesting fellows, are they not? +I was glad to notice you had a few words with Foster, the editor of the +<em>Chronicle</em>. If you still have literary or journalistic ambitions, and +have not been entirely captivated by the pundits of commerce and money-making, +Foster might be of material assistance to you.'</p> + +<p>Just then Ah Lun passed before us (still smiling), carrying a tray full of +used glasses.</p> + +<p>'We'll have a bit of dinner here, Ah Lun. I won't go out to-night. I dare +say you have something we can pick over. Let us know when it's ready.'</p> + +<p>Really, as I look back upon it, I see even more clearly than at the time +that the artist was extraordinarily kind to me; to an obscure and friendless +youth, none too presentable, and little likely just then to do him credit. I +would prefer to set down here only that which I understood and felt at the +time. Perhaps that is not quite possible, in the light of subsequently acquired +knowledge and experience. This much I can say: there was no hint at this time +of any wavering or diminution in the almost worshipful regard I felt for Mr. +Rawlence.</p> + +<p>Seen in his own chosen setting, he was the most magnificent person I had +met. Ęstheticism of a pronounced sort was becoming the fashion of the day in +London; and, as I presently found, Mr. Rawlence followed the fashions of London +and Paris closely. Indeed, I gathered that at one time he had settled down, +determined to live and to end his days in one or other of those Old World +capitals. But after a year divided between them, he had returned to Sydney, and +gradually formed his Macquarie Street home and social connections. No doubt he +was a more important figure there than he would have been in Europe. His +private income made him easily independent of earnings artistic or otherwise. I +apprehend he lived at the rate of about a thousand pounds a year, or a little +more, which meant a good deal in Sydney in those days. I remember being told at +one time that he did not earn fifty pounds in a year as a painter; but, of +course, I could not answer for that.</p> + +<p>I think he derived his greatest satisfactions from the society of young +aspirants in art, literature, and journalism; and I incline to think it was +more to please and interest, to serve and to impress these neophytes, than from +any inclination of his own, that he also assiduously cultivated the society of +a few maturer men who were definitely placed in the Sydney world as artists, +writers, editors, and so forth. But such conclusions came to me gradually, of +course. I had not thought of them during that delightfully exciting +experience--my first visit to the Macquarie Street studio.</p> + +<p>The simple little dinner was for me a thrilling episode. The deft-handed +Chinaman hovering behind our chairs, the softly shaded table-lights, the wine +in tall, fantastically shaped Bohemian glasses, the very food--all unfamiliar, +and therefore fascinating: olives, smoked salmon--to which I helped myself +largely, believing it to be sliced tomato--a cold bird of sorts, no slices of +bread but little rolls in place of them, no tea, and no dishes ever seen in +Mrs. Gabbitas's kitchen, or at my North Shore lodging. And then the figure of +my host, lounging at table in the rosy light, a cigarette between the shapely +fingers of his right hand--I had not before seen any one smoke at the +dinner-table--his brown velvet coat, his languidly graceful gestures, the +delicate hue of his flowing neck-tie, the costly sort of negligence of his +whole dress and deportment--all these trifling matters were alike rare and +exquisite in my eyes.</p> + +<p>After their fashion the day, and in particular the evening, were an +education for me. I spent a couple of hours over the short homeward journey to +Mill Street, the better to savour and consider my impressions. The previous day +belonged to my remote past. I had travelled through ages of experience since +then. For example, I quite definitely was no longer proud of being a clerk in +an office. As I realised this I smiled down as from a great height upon a +recollection of the chorus of a Scots ditty sung by a sailor on board the +<em>Ariadne</em>. I have no notion of how to spell the words, but they ran +somewhat in this wise:</p> + +<p>'Wi' a Hi heu honal, an' a honal heu hi,<br /> +Comelachie, Ecclefechan, Ochtermochty an' Mulgye,<br /> +Wi' a Hi heu honal, an' a honal heu hi,<br /> +It's a braw thing a clairk in an orfiss.'</p> + +<p>Well, it was no such a braw thing to me that night, as it had seemed on the +previous day. I had heard the word 'commercial' spoken with an intonation which +I fancied Mr. Smith would greatly resent. But I did not resent it. And that was +another of the fruits of my immense experience: Mr. Smith would never again +hold first place as my mentor. How could he? Why, even some of my own innocent +notions of the past--of pre-Macquarie Street days--seemed nearer the real thing +than one or two of poor Mr. Smith's obiter dicta. I had noted the hats of that +elect assemblage, and there had not been a billycock among them. Not a single +example of the headgear which Mr. Smith held necessary for the self-respecting +man in Sydney! But, on the contrary, there had been quite a number of a kind +which approximated more or less to the soft brown hat purchased by me in +Dursley, and discarded upon Mr. Smith's urgent recommendation in favour of the +more rigid and precise billycock. I reflected upon this significant fact for +quite a long while.</p> + +<p>Certainly, the world was a very wonderful place. Was it possible that a week +ago I had been a handy lad, dressed merely in shirt and trousers, and engaged +in planting out tomatoes? I arrived at the corner of Mill Street, and turning +on my heel walked away from it. I wanted to try over, out loud, one or two such +phrases as these:</p> + +<p>'I've been dining with an artist friend in Macquarie Street!'--'I was saying +this afternoon to the editor of the <em>Chronicle</em>'--'I met some delightful +people at my friend Mr. Rawlence's studio this afternoon!'</p> + +<p>But, upon the whole, there was a more subtle joy in the enunciation of +certain other remarks, supposed to come from somebody else:</p> + +<p>'I met Mr. Freydon, Mr. Nicholas Freydon, you know, this afternoon. He had +looked in at Rawlence's studio in Macquarie Street. In fact, I believe he +stayed there to dinner before going on to his rooms at North Shore. Rawlence +certainly does get all the most interesting people at his place. Landon, the +painter, was deep in conversation with Mr. Freydon. No, I don't know what Mr. +Freydon does--some secretarial appointment, I fancy. He's evidently a great +friend of Rawlence's.'</p> + +<p>It is surprising that I can set these things down with no particular sense +of shame. I distinctly remember striding along the deserted roads, speaking +these absurdities aloud, in an only slightly subdued conversational voice. My +mood was one of remarkable exaltation. I wonder if other young men have been +equally mad!</p> + +<p>'How d'ye do, Foster?' I would murmur airily as I swung round a corner. +'Have you seen my new book?'; or, 'I noticed you published that article of mine +yesterday!' Presently I found myself in open, scrub-covered country, and +singing, quite loudly, the old sailor's doggerel about its being a braw thing +to be a 'clairk in an orfiss'; my real thought being that it was a braw thing +to be Nicholas Freydon, a clerk in an office, who was very soon to be something +quite otherwise.</p> + +<p>I am not quite sure if this mood was typical of the happy madness of youth. +There may have been a lamentable kind of snobbery about it; I dare say. I only +know this was my mood; these were my apparently crazy actions on that remote +Sunday night. And, too, before getting into bed that night--fortunately for +himself, perhaps, poor Mr. Smith was already asleep, and so safe from my +loquacity--I carefully folded the two magnificent rainbow-hued silk +handkerchiefs which good Mrs. Gabbitas had given me, and stowed them away at +the very bottom of my ancient carpet-bag.</p> + +<p>The sort of remarks which I had been addressing to the moon were not remarks +which I ever should have dreamed of addressing to any human being. I think in +justice I might add that. But I had greatly enjoyed hearing myself say them to +the silent night.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XVIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Actually, I dare say the process of one's sophistication was gradual enough. +But looking back now upon my Dursley period, and the four years spent in +Sydney--and, indeed, my stay in the Orphanage, and my life with my father in +Livorno Bay--it appears to me that my growth, education, development, whatever +it may be called, came at intervals, jerkily, in sudden leaps forward. The +truth probably is that the development was constant and steady, but that its +symptoms declared themselves spasmodically.</p> + +<p>It would seem that there ought to have been a phase of smart, clerkly +dandyism; but perhaps Mr. Rawlence's kindly hospitality in Macquarie Street +nipped that in the bud, substituting for it a kind of twopenny ęstheticism, +which made me affect floppy neckties and a studied negligence of dress, +combined with some neglect of the barber. In these things, as in certain other +matters, there were some singular contradictions and inconsistencies in me, and +I was distinctly precocious. The precocity was due, I take it, to the fact that +I had never known family life, and that my companions had always been older +than myself. I fancy that most people I met supposed me to be at least three or +four years older than I was, and were sedulously encouraged by me in that +supposition. I was precocious, too, in another way. I could have grown a beard +and moustache at seventeen. Instead, I assiduously plied the razor night and +morning, and derived satisfaction from something which irritated me greatly in +later years--the remarkably rapid and sturdy growth of my beard.</p> + +<p>As against these extravagances I must record the fact that my parsimony in +monetary matters survived. Mr. John, in Sussex Street, presently raised my +salary to two pounds ten shillings a week; but I continued to share Mr. Smith's +bedroom, and to pay only sixteen shillings weekly for my board and lodging. +What was more to the point, I was equally careful in most other matters +affecting expenditure, and never added less than a pound each week to my +savings bank account; an achievement by no means always equalled in after +years, even when earnings were ten times larger. I may have, and did indulge in +the most extravagant conceits of the mind. But these never seriously affected +my pocket.</p> + +<p>There is perhaps something rather distasteful in the idea of so much +economic prudence in one so young. A certain generous carelessness is proper to +youth. Well, I had none of it, at this time, in money matters. And, distasteful +or not, I am glad of it, since, at all events, it had this advantage: at a very +critical period I was preserved from the grosser and more perilous indulgences +of youth. When the time did arrive at which I ceased to be very careful in +money spending, I had presumably acquired a little more balance, and was a +little safer than in those adolescent Sydney years.</p> + +<p>Here again my qualities were presumably the product of my condition and +circumstances. To be left quite alone in the world while yet a child, as I had +been, does, I apprehend, stimulate a certain worldly prudence in regard, at all +events, to so obvious a matter as the balance of income and expenditure. I felt +that if I were ever stranded and penniless there would be no one in the whole +world to lend me a helping hand, or to save me from being cut adrift from all +that I had come to hold precious, and flung back into the slough of manual +labour--for that, curiously enough, is how I then regarded it. Not, of course, +that I had found manual work in itself unpleasant in any way; but that I then +considered my escape from it had carried me into a social and mental atmosphere +superior to that which the manual worker could reach.</p> + +<p>Except when he was absent from Sydney, Mr. Rawlence always received his +friends at the Macquarie Street studio on Sundays, and none was more regular in +attendance than myself. It would be very easy, of course, to be sarcastic at +Mr. Rawlence's expense; to poke fun at the well-to-do gentleman approaching +middle age, who clung to the pretence of being a working artist, and to avoid +criticism, or because more mature workers would not seek his society, liked to +surround himself with neophytes--a Triton among minnows. And indeed, as I +found, there were those--some old enough to know better, and others young +enough to be more generous--who were not above adopting this attitude even +whilst enjoying their victim's hospitality; aye, and enjoying it greedily.</p> + +<p>But neither then nor at any subsequent period was I tempted to ridicule a +man uniformly kind and helpful to me; and this, not at all because I blinded +myself to his weaknesses and imperfections, but because I found, and still +find, these easily outweighed by his good and genuinely kindly qualities. His +may not have been a very dignified way of life; it was too full of affectations +for that; particularly after he began to be greatly influenced by the rather +sickly ęsthetic movement then in vogue in London. But it was, at least, a +harmless life; and, upon the whole, a generous and kindly one.</p> + +<p>Its influence upon me, for example, tended, I am sure, to give me a +pronounced distaste for the coarse and vulgar sort of dissipation which very +often engaged the leisure of my office companions, and other youths of similar +occupation in Sydney. It may be that the causes behind my aloofness from mere +vulgar frivolity, and worse, were pretty mixed: part pride, or even conceit, +and part prudence or parsimony. No matter. The influence was helpful, for the +abstention was real, and the distaste grew always more rooted as time wore on. +Also, the same influence tended to make me more fastidious, more critical, less +crude than I might otherwise have been. It led me to give more serious +attention to pictures, music, and literature of the less ephemeral sort than I +might otherwise have given. It was not that Mr. Rawlence and his friends +advised one to study Shakespeare, or to attend the better sort of concerts, or +to learn something of art and criticism. But talk that I heard in that studio +did make me feel that it was eminently desirable I should inform myself more +fully in these matters.</p> + +<p>Listening to a discussion there of some quite worthless thing more than once +moved me to the investigation of something of real value. I was still tolerably +credulous, and when a man's casual reference suggested that he and every one +else was naturally intimate with this or that, I would make it my business, so +far as might be, really to obtain some knowledge of the matter. I assumed, +often quite mistakenly, no doubt, that every one else present had this +particular knowledge. Thus the spirit of emulation helped me as it might never +have done but for Mr. Rawlence and his sumptuous studio, so rich in everything +save examples of his own work.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>* * * * *</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I fancy it must have been fully a year after my arrival in Sydney that I met +Mr. Foster, the editor of the <em>Chronicle</em>, as I was walking down from +Sussex Street to Circular Quay one evening.</p> + +<p>'Ah, Freydon,' he said; 'what an odd coincidence! I was this moment thinking +of you, and of something you said last Sunday at Rawlence's. I can't use the +article you sent me. It's-- Well, for one thing, it's rather too much like +fiction; like a story, you know. But, tell me, what do you do for a living?'</p> + +<p>'I'm a correspondence clerk, at present, in a Sussex Street business +house.'</p> + +<p>'H'm! Yes, I rather thought something of the sort--and very good practical +training, too, I should say. But I gather you are keen on press work, eh?'</p> + +<p>I gave an eager affirmative, and the editor nodded.</p> + +<p>'Ye--es,' he said musingly as we turned aside into Wynyard Square. 'I should +think you'd do rather well at it. But, mind you, I fancy there are bigger +rewards to be won in business.'</p> + +<p>'If there are, I don't want them,' I rejoined, with a warmth that surprised +myself.</p> + +<p>'Ah! Well, there's only one way, you know, in journalism as in other things. +One must begin at the foundations, and work right through to the roof. I'll +tell you what; if you'd care to come on the <em>Chronicle</em>--reporting, you +know--I could give you a vacancy now.'</p> + +<p>No doubt I showed the thrill this announcement gave me when I thanked him +for thinking of me.</p> + +<p>'Oh, that's all right. There's no favour in it. I wouldn't offer it if I +didn't think you'd do full justice to it. And, mind you, there's nothing +tempting about it, financially at all events. I couldn't start you at more than +two or three pounds a week.'</p> + +<p>Now here, despite my elation, I spoke with a shrewdness often recalled, but +rarely repeated by me in later life. A curious thing that, in one so young, and +evidence of one of the inconsistencies about my development which I have noted +before in this record.</p> + +<p>'Oh, well,' I said, 'I should not, of course, like to lose money by the +change; but if you could give me three pounds a week I shouldn't be losing, and +I'd be delighted to come.'</p> + +<p>It falls to be noted that I was earning two pounds ten shillings a week from +Messrs. J. Canning and Son at that time. I do not think there was anything +dishonest in what I said to Foster; but it certainly indicated a kind of +business sharpness which has been rather noticeably lacking in my later life. +The editor nodded ready agreement, and it was in this way that I first entered +upon journalistic employment.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XIX</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The work that I did as the most junior member of the <em>Chronicle's</em> +literary staff no doubt possessed some of the merits which usually accompany +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Memory still burdens me with the record of one or two articles thought upon +which makes my skin twitch hotly. It is remarkable that matter so astoundingly +crude should have seen the light of print. But, when one comes to think of it, +the large, careless newspaper-reading public, the majority, remains permanently +youthful so far as judgment of the written word is concerned; and so it may be +that raw youngsters, such as I was then, can approach the majority more nearly +than the tried and trained specialist, who, just in so far as he has +specialised as a journalist, has removed himself from the familiar purview of +the general, and acquired an outlook which, to this extent, is exotic.</p> + +<p>At all events, I know I achieved some success with articles in the +<em>Chronicle</em> of a sort which no experienced journalist could write, save +with his tongue in his cheek; and tongue-in-the-cheek writing never really +impressed anybody. What seems even more strange to me, in the light of later +life and experience, is the fact that upon several occasions I proved of some +value to the business side of the <em>Chronicle</em>. My efforts actually +brought the concern money, and increased circulation. I find this most +surprising, but I know it happened. There were due solely to my initiative +'interviews' with sundry leading lights in commerce, and in the professional +sporting world, which were highly profitable to the paper; and this at a time +when the 'interview' was a thing practically unknown in Australian +journalism.</p> + +<p>Stimulated perhaps by the remarks of the good Mr. Smith, my room-mate, I +planned ventures of this kind in bed, descending fully armed with them upon Mr. +Foster by day, in most cases to fire him, more or less, by my own enthusiasm. +Upon the whole I earned my pay pretty well while working for the +<em>Chronicle</em>, even having regard to the several small increases made +therein. If I lacked ability and experience, I gave more than most of my +colleagues, perhaps, in concentration and initiative.</p> + +<p>The two things most salient, I think, which befell in this phase of my life +were my determination to go to England, and my only adolescent love affair; +this, as distinguished from the sentimental episodes of infancy and childhood, +which with me had been a rather prolific crop.</p> + +<p>The determination to make my way to England, the land of my fathers, did not +take definite shape until comedy, with a broad smile, rang down the curtain +upon my love affair. But I fancy it had been a long while in the making. I am +not sure but what the germ of it began to stir a little in its husk even at St. +Peter's Orphanage; I feel sure it did while I browsed upon English fiction in +my little wooden room beside the tool-shed at Dursley. It was near the surface +from the time I began to visit Mr. Rawlence's studio in Macquarie Street, and +busily developing from that time onward, though it did not become a visible and +admitted growth, with features and a shape of its own, until more than two +years had elapsed. Then, quite suddenly, I recognised it, and told myself it +was for this really that I had been 'saving up.'</p> + +<p>In the Old World the adventurous-minded, enterprising youth turns naturally +from contemplation of the humdrum security of the multitudinously trodden path +in which he finds himself to thoughts of the large new lands; of those +comparatively untried and certainly uncrowded uplands of the world, which, +apart from the other chances and attractions they offer, possess the advantage +of lying oversea, from the beaten track--over the hills and far away. 'Here,' +he may be supposed to feel, as he gazes about him in his familiar, Old World +environment, 'there is nothing but what has been tried and exploited, sifted +through and through time and again, all adown the centuries. What chance is +there for me among the crowd, where there is nothing new, nothing untried? +Whereas, out there--' Ah, the magic of those words, 'Out there!' and 'Over +there!' for home-bred youth! It is good, wholesome magic, too, and it will be a +bad day for the Old World, a disastrous day for England, when it ceases to +exercise its powers upon the hearts and imaginations of the youth of our +stock.</p> + +<p>Well, and in the New World, in the case of such sprawling young giants among +the nations of the future as Australia, what is the master dream of adventurous +and enterprising youth there? Australia, like Canada, has its call of the west +and the north, with their appealing tale of untried potentialities. Canada has +also, across its merely figurative and political southern border, a vast and +teeming world, reaching down to the equator, and comprising almost every +possible diversity of human effort and natural resource. Australia, the purely +British island continent, is more isolated. But, broadly speaking, the very +facts which make the enterprising Old World youth fix his gaze upon the New +World cause the same type of youth in Australia, for example, to look +home-along across the seas, toward those storied islands of the north which, it +may be, he has never seen: the land which, in some cases, even his parents have +not seen since their childhood.</p> + +<p>'Here,' he may be imagined saying, as he looks about him among the raw +uprising products of the new land, where the past is nothing and all hope +centres upon the future, 'Here everything is yet to do; everything is in the +making. Here, money's the only reward. Who's to judge of one's accomplishment +here? Fame has no accredited deputy in this unmade world. Whereas, back there, +at home--' Oh, the magic of those words 'At Home!' and 'In England!' alike for +those who once have seen the white cliffs fade out astern, and for those who +have seen them only in dreams, bow on!</p> + +<p>Everything has been tried and accomplished there. The very thought that +speeds the emigrant pulls at the heart-strings of the immigrant; drawing home +one son from the outposts, while thrusting out another toward the outposts, +there to learn what England means, and to earn and deserve the glory of his +birthright. That, in a nutshell, is the real history of the British +Empire....</p> + +<p>But, as I said, before final recognition of the determination to go to +England came my youthful love affair. With every apparent deference toward the +traditions of romance, I fell in love with the daughter of my chief; and my +fall was very thorough and complete. I was in the editorial sanctum one +afternoon, discussing some piece of work, and getting instructions from Mr. +Foster--'G.F.' as we called him--when the door was flung open, as no member of +the staff would ever have opened it, and two very charming young women +fluttered in, filling the whole place by their simple presence there. One was +dark and the other fair: the first, my chief's daughter Mabel; the second, her +bosom friend, Hester Prinsep.</p> + +<p>'Oh, father, we're all going down to see Tommy off. I want to get some +flowers, and I've come out without a penny, so I want some money.'</p> + +<p>My chief had risen, and was drawing forward a chair for Miss Prinsep. I do +not think he intended to pay the same attention to his daughter, but I did, and +received a very charming smile for my pains. Upon which G.F. presented me in +due form to both ladies. Turning then to his daughter, he said with +half-playful severity:</p> + +<p>'You know, Mabel, we are not accustomed to your rough and ready Potts Point +manners here. We knock at doors before we open them, and do at least inquire if +a man is engaged before we swoop down upon him demanding his money or his +life.'</p> + +<p>'Father! as though I should think of you as being engaged! And as for the +money part, I thought this was the very place to come to for money.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Well, how did you come?'</p> + +<p>'The cab's waiting outside.'</p> + +<p>'Dear me! You may have noticed, Freydon, that cabmen are a peculiarly +gallant class. They don't show much inclination to drive us about when we have +no money, do they?'</p> + +<p>Then he turned to Miss Prinsep. 'And so your brother really starts for +England to-day, Hester? I almost think I'll have to make time to dash down and +wish him luck.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, do, Mr. Foster! Tommy would appreciate it.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, do, father,' echoed Miss Foster. 'Come with us now. That will be +splendid.'</p> + +<p>'No, I can't manage that. You go and buy your flowers, and I'll try and get +away in time to take you both home. Here's a sovereign; and-- Ah! you'd better +have some silver for your cab. H'm! Here you are.'</p> + +<p>'Thanks awfully, father. You are a generous dear. That will be lots. The +cab's Gurney's, you see, so I can tell him to put it down in the account. But +the silver's sure to come in handy, for I'm dreadfully poor just now.'</p> + +<p>G.F. shrugged his shoulders, with a comic look in my direction. 'Feminine +honesty! Take the silver, and tell the cabman to charge me! Freydon, perhaps +you'd be kind enough to see this brigand and her friend to their cab, will you? +I think we are all clear about that article, aren't we? Right! On your way ask +Stone to come in and see me, will you?'</p> + +<p>So he bowed us out, and I, in a state of most agreeable fluster, escorted +the ladies to their waiting cab.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye, Mr. Freydon,' said Mabel Foster as she gave me her softly gloved +little hand over the cab door. And, from that moment, I was her slave; only +realising some few minutes later that I had been so unpardonably rude as never +even to have glanced in Miss Prinsep's direction, to say nothing of bidding her +good-bye.</p> + +<p>Miss Foster's was a well recognised and conventional kind of beauty, very +telling to my inexperienced eyes, and richly suggestive of romance. Her eyes +were large, dark, and, as the novelists say, 'melting.' Her face was a +perfectly regular oval, having a clear olive complexion, with warm hints of +subdued colour in it. Her lips were most provocative, and all about the edges +of that dark cloud, her hair, the light played fitfully through a lattice of +stray tendrils. A very pretty picture indeed, Miss Foster was perfectly +conscious of her charms, and a mistress of coquettishness in her use of them. A +true child of pleasure-loving Sydney, she might have posed with very little +preparation as a Juliet or a Desdemona, and to my youthful fancy carried about +with her the charming gaiety and romantic tenderness of the most delightful +among Boccaccio's ladies. (Sydney was just then beginning to be referred to by +writers as the Venice of the Pacific, and I was greatly taken with the +comparison.)</p> + +<p>A week or so later, I was honoured by an invitation to dine at my chief's +house one Saturday night; and from that point onward my visits became frequent, +my subjugation unquestioning and complete. This was the one brief period of my +youth in which I flung away prudence and became youthfully extravagant, not +merely in thought but in the expenditure of money. I suppose fully half my +salary, for some time, was given to the purchase of sweets and flowers, pretty +booklets and the like, for Mabel Foster; and, of the remainder of my earnings, +the tailor took heavier toll than he had ever done before.</p> + +<p>For example, when that first invitation to dinner reached me--on a Monday--I +had never had my arms through the sleeves of a dress-coat. Mr. Smith kindly +offered the loan of his time-honoured evening suit, pointing out, I dare say +truly, that such garments were being 'cut very full just now.' But, no; I felt +that the occasion demanded an epoch-marking plunge on my part; and to this end +Mr. Smith was good enough to introduce me to his own tailor, through whom, as I +understood, I could obtain the benefit of some sort of trade reduction in +price, by virtue of Mr. Smith's one time position as a commercial traveller.</p> + +<p>During the week the eddies caused by my plunge penetrated beyond the world +of tailoring, and doubtless produced their effect upon the white tie and patent +leather shoe trade. But despite my lavish preparations, Saturday afternoon +found me in the blackest kind of despair. Fully dressed in evening kit, I had +been sitting on my bed for an hour, well knowing that all shops were closed, +and facing the lamentable fact that I had no suitable outer garment with which +to cloak my splendour on the way to Potts Point. It was Mr. Smith who +discovered the omission, and he, too, who had made me feel the full tragedy of +it. The covert coat he pressed upon me would easily have buttoned behind my +back, and Mrs. Hastings's kindly offer of a shawl (a vivid plaid which she +assured me had been worn and purchased by no less an authority upon gentlemen's +wear than her father) had been finally, almost bitterly, rejected by me.</p> + +<p>It was then, when my fate seemed blackest to me, that Mr. Smith discovered +in the prolific galleries of his well-stored memory the fact that it was +perfectly permissible for a gentleman in my case to go uncovered by any outer +robe, providing--and this was indispensable--that he carried some preferably +light cloak or overcoat upon his arm.</p> + +<p>'And the weather being close and hot, too, as it certainly is to-night, I'll +wager you'll find you're quite in the mode if you get to Potts Point with my +covert coat on your arm. So that settles it.'</p> + +<p>It did; and I was duly grateful. It certainly was a hot evening, and in no +sense any fault of Mr. Smith's that its warmth brought a heavy thunderstorm of +rain just as I began my walk up the long hill at Potts Point, so that, taking +shelter here and there, as opportunity offered, but not daring to put on the +enormously over-large coat, I finally ran up to the house in pouring rain, with +a coat neatly folded over one arm. A few years later, no doubt, I should have +been glad to slip the coat on, or fling it over my head. But--it did not happen +a few years later....</p> + +<p>My worshipful adoration of Miss Foster made me neglectful even of Mr. +Rawlence's Sunday afternoon receptions. To secure the chance of being rewarded +by five minutes alone with her, in the garden or elsewhere, I suppose I must +have given up hundreds of hours from a not very plentiful allowance of leisure. +And it is surprising, in retrospect, to note how steadfast I was in my +devotion; how long it lasted.</p> + +<p>The young woman had ability; there's not a doubt of that. For, ardent though +I was, she allowed no embarrassing questions. I am free to suppose that my +devotion was not unwelcome or tiresome to her, and that she enjoyed its +innumerable small fruits in the shape of offerings. But she kept me most +accurately balanced at the precise distance she found most agreeable. My +letters--the columns and columns I must have written!--were most fervid; and a +good deal more eloquent, I fancy, than my oral courtship. But yet I have her +own testimony for it that Mabel approved my declamatory style of love-making; +the style used when actually in the presence.</p> + +<p>The end was in this wise: I called, ostensibly to see Mrs. Foster, on a +Saturday afternoon, when I knew, as a matter of fact, that my chief and his +wife were attending a function in Sydney. It was a winter's day, very +blusterous and wet. The servant having told me her mistress was out, and Miss +Mabel in, was about to lead me through the long, wide hall to the drawing-room, +which opened through a conservatory upon a rear verandah, when some one called +her, and I assured her I could find my own way. So the smiling maid (who +doubtless knew my secret) left me, and I leisurely disposed of coat and +umbrella, and walked through the house. The shadowy drawing-room was empty, +but, as I entered it, these words, spoken in Mabel's voice, reached me from the +conservatory beyond:</p> + +<p>'My dear Hester, how perfectly absurd. A little unknown reporter boy, picked +up by father, probably out of charity! And, besides, you know I should always +be true to Tommy, however long he is away. Why, I often mention my reporter boy +to Tommy in writing. And he is delicious, you know; he really is. I believe +you're jealous. He is a pretty boy, I know. But you'd hardly credit how sweetly +he-- Well, romances, you know. He really is too killingly sweet when he makes +love-- Oh, with the most knightly respect, my dear! Very likely he will come in +this afternoon, and you shall hear for yourself. You shall sit out here, and +I'll keep him in the drawing-room. Then you'll see how well in hand he is.'</p> + +<p>It was probably contemptible of me not to have coughed, or blown my nose, or +something, in the first ten seconds. But the whole speech did not occupy very +many seconds in the making, and was half finished before I realised, with a +stunning shock, what it meant. It went on after the last words I have written +here, but at that point I retired, backward, into the hall to collect myself, +as they say. I had various brilliant ideas in the few seconds given to this +process. I saw myself, pitiless but full of dignity, inflicting scathing +punishment of various kinds, and piling blazing coals of fire upon Mabel's +pretty head. I thought, too, of merely disappearing, and leaving conscience to +make martyrdom of my fair lady's life. But perhaps I doubted the inquisitorial +capacity of her conscience. At all events, in the end, I rattled the +drawing-room door-handle vigorously, and re-entered with a portentous clearing +of the throat. There was a flutter and patter in the conservatory, and then the +hitherto adored one came in to me, an open book in her hand, and witchery in +both her liquid eyes.</p> + +<p>And then a most embarrassing and unexpected thing happened. My wrath fell +from me, carrying with it all my smarting sense of humiliation, and every +vestige of the desire to humiliate or punish Mabel. I was left horribly +unprotected, because conscious only of the totally unexpected fact that Mabel +was still adorable, and that now, when about to leave her for ever, I wanted +her more than at any previous time. Then help came to me. I heard a tiny +footfall, light as a leaf's touch, on the paved floor of the conservatory. I +pictured the listening Hester Prinsep, and pride, or some useful substitute +therefor, came to my aid.</p> + +<p>'I'm afraid I've interrupted you,' I said, making a huge effort to avoid +seeing the witchery in Mabel's eyes. 'I only came to bring this book for Mrs. +Foster. I had promised it.'</p> + +<p>'But why so solemn, poor knight? What's wrong? Won't you sit down?' said +Mabel gaily.</p> + +<p>'No, I mustn't stay,' I replied, with Spartan firmness. And then, on a +sudden impulse: 'Don't you think we've both been rather mistaken, Mabel? I've +been silly and presumptuous, because, of course, I'm nobody--just a penniless +newspaper reporter. And you--you are very dear and sweet, and will soon marry +some one who can give you a house like this, in Potts Point. I--I've all my way +to make yet, and--and so I'd like to say good-bye. And--thank you ever so much +for always having been so sweet and so patient. Good-bye!'</p> + +<p>'Why? Aren't you--Won't you--Good-bye then!'</p> + +<p>And so I passed out; and, having quite relinquished any thought of +reprisals, I believe perhaps I did, after all, bring a momentary twinge of +remorse to pretty, giddy Mabel Foster. I never saw her again but once, and that +as a mere acquaintance, and when almost a year had passed.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XX</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I have no idea what made me fix upon the particular sum of two hundred +pounds as the amount of capital required for my migration oversea to England; +but that was the figure I had in mind. At the time it seemed that the decision +to go home--England is still regularly spoken of as 'home' by tens of thousands +of British subjects who never have set eyes upon its shores, and are not +acquainted with any living soul in the British Isles--came to me after that +eventful afternoon at Potts Point. And as a definite decision, with anything +like a date in view, perhaps it did not come till then. But the tendency in +that direction had been present for a long while.</p> + +<p>It would seem, however, that at every period of my life I have always been +feeding upon some one predominant plan, desire, or objective. For many months +prior to that afternoon at Potts Point, my adoration of Mabel Foster had +overshadowed all else, and made me most unusually careless of other interests. +This preoccupation having come to an abrupt end was succeeded almost +immediately by the fixed determination to go to England as soon as I could +acquire the sum of two hundred pounds. Into the pursuit then of this sum of +money I now plunged with considerable vehemence.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, I suppose the task of putting together a couple of +hundred pounds, in London say, would be a pretty considerable one for a +youngster without family or influence. It was not a hard one for me, in Sydney. +I might probably have possessed the amount at this very time, but for my single +period of extravagance--the time of devotion to Miss Foster. Putting aside the +vagaries of that period, I saved money automatically. Mere living and +journeying to and from the office cost me less than a pound each week. My +pleasures cost less than half that amount all told; and as one outcome of my +year's extravagance, I was now handsomely provided for in the matter of +clothes.</p> + +<p>But I will not pretend that hoarding for the great adventure of going to +England did not involve some small sacrifices. It did. To take one trifle now. +I had formed a habit of dropping into a restaurant, Quong Tart's by name, for a +cup of afternoon tea each day; in the first place because I had heard Mabel +Foster speak of going there for the same purpose with her friend Hester +Prinsep. Abstention from this dissipation now added a few weekly shillings to +the great adventure fund. To the same end I gave up cigarettes, confining +myself to the one foul old briar pipe. And there were other such minor +abstinences, all designed to increase the weight of the envelope I handed +across the bank counter each week.</p> + +<p>The disadvantages of the habit of making life a consecutive series of +absorbing preoccupations are numerous. The practice narrows the sphere of one's +interests and activities, tends to introspective egoism, and robs the present +of much of its savour. But, now and again, it has its compensations. Save for a +single week-end of rather pensive moping, the end of my love affair changed the +colour of my outlook but very little indeed. Its place was promptly filled, or +very nearly filled, by the other preoccupation. And, keen though I was about +this, I did not in any sense become an ascetic youth held down by stern +resolves. I think I rather enjoyed the small sacrifices and the steady saving; +and I know I very much enjoyed applying for and obtaining another small +increase of salary, after completing a trumpery series of sketches of pleasure +resorts near Sydney, the publication of which brought substantial profit to the +<em>Chronicle</em>.</p> + +<p>One thing that did rather hurt me at this time was a comment made upon +myself, and accidentally overheard by me in the reporters' room at the office. +This was a remark made by an American newspaper man, who, having been a month +or two on the staff, was dismissed for drunkenness. He spoke in a penetrating +nasal tone as I approached the open door of the room, and what he said to his +unknown companion came as such a buffet in the face to me that I turned and +walked away. The words I heard were:</p> + +<p>'Freydon? Oh yes; clever, in his ten cent way. I allow the chap's honest, +mind, but, sakes alive, he's only what a N'York thief would call a "sure thing +grafter."'</p> + +<p>The phrase was perfectly unfamiliar to me, but intuitively I knew exactly +what it meant, and I suppose it hurt because I felt its applicability. A 'sure +thing grafter' was a criminal who took no chances, I felt; an adventurer who +played for petty stakes only, because he would face no risks. Even the American +pressman knew I was no criminal. He probably would have despised me less if he +thought I stole. But--there it was. The chance shaft went home. And it hurt.</p> + +<p>I dare say there was considerable pettiness about the way in which I saved +my earnings instead of squandering them with glad youthfulness, as did most of +my colleagues. There was something of the huckster's instinct, no doubt, in +many of the trivial journalistic ideas I evolved, took to my chief, and pleased +my employers by carrying out successfully. I suppose these were the petty ways +by which I managed somehow to clamber out of the position in which my father's +death had left me. They are set down here because they certainly were a part of +my life. I am not ashamed of them, but I do wonder at them rather as a part of +my life; not at all as something beneath me, but as something suggesting the +possession of a kind of commercial gift for 'getting on,' of which my after +life gave little or no indication. In all my youth there was undoubtedly a +marked absence of the care-free jollity, the irresponsible joyousness, which is +supposed to belong naturally to youth. This was not due, I think, to the mere +fact of my being left alone in the world as a child. We have all met urchins +joyous in the most abject destitution. I attribute it to two causes: inherited +temperamental tendencies, and the particular circumstances in which I happened +to be left alone in the world. Had I been born in a slum, and subsequently left +an orphan there; or had my father's death occurred half a dozen years earlier +than it did; in either case my circumstances would, I apprehend, have +influenced me far less.</p> + +<p>As things were with me when I found myself in the ranks of the friendless +and penniless, I had formed certain definite tastes and associations, the +influence of which was such as to make me earnestly anxious to get away from +that strata of the community which my companions at St. Peter's Orphanage, for +example, accepted unquestioningly as their own. Now when a youngster in his +early teens is possessed by an earnest desire of that sort, I suppose it is not +likely to stimulate irresponsible gaiety and carelessness in him.</p> + +<p>But, withal, I enjoyed those Sydney years; yes, I savoured the life of that +period with unfailing zest. But, incidents of the type which dear old Mrs. +Gabbitas called 'Awful warnings,' were for me more real, more impressive, than +they are to youths who live in comfortably luxurious homes, and know the care +of mother and sisters. The normal youth is naturally not often moved to the +vein of--'There, but for the grace of God, goes ---- etc.' But I was, +inevitably.</p> + +<p>For instance, there was the American journalist who so heartily despised my +bourgeois prudence and progress. As I walked through the Domain one evening, +not many months after I had heard myself compared with a 'sure thing grafter,' +I saw a piece of human wreckage curled up under a tree in the moonlight. It was +not a very infrequent sight of course, even in prosperous Sydney, This +particular wreck, as he lay sleeping there, exposed the fact that he wore +neither shirt nor socks. He was dreadfully filthy, and his stertorous breathing +gave a clue to the cause of his degradation. As I drew level with him, the moon +shone full on his stubble-grown face. He was the American reporter.</p> + +<p>Here was a chance to return good for evil. I might have done several quite +picturesque things, and did think of leaving a coin beside the poor wretch. +Then I pictured its inevitable destination, and impatiently asked myself why +sentimentality should carry money of mine into public-house tills. So I passed +on. Finally, after walking a hundred yards, I retraced my steps and slid half a +crown under the man's grimy hand, where it lay limply on the grass.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XXI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The work that gave me most satisfaction at this time was writing of a kind +which I could not induce my chief to favour for his own purposes. He said it +was not sufficiently 'legitimate journalism' for the <em>Chronicle</em>. (The +'eighties were still young.) And only at long intervals was I able to persuade +him to accept one or two examples, though I insisted it was the best work I had +ever attempted for the paper; as, indeed, it very likely was.</p> + +<p>'But this is practically a story,' or 'This is really fiction,' or 'This is +a sketch of a personal character, not a newspaper feature,' he would say. And +then, one day, in handing me back one of my rejected offspring, he said: 'Look +here, Freydon, see if you can condense this a shade, and then send it to the +editor of the <em>Observer</em>. I've written him saying I should tell you +this.'</p> + +<p>I followed this kindly advice, and, a month later, enjoyed the profound +satisfaction of reading my little contribution in the famous Australian weekly +journal. The fact would have no interest for any one else, of course, but I +have always remembered this little sketch of a type of Australian bushman, +because it was the first signed contribution from my pen to appear in any +journal of standing; the first of a series which appeared perhaps once in a +month during the rest of my time in Sydney.</p> + +<p>People I met in Mr. Rawlence's studio occasionally mentioned these sketches, +and I took great pleasure in them. Incidentally, they added to my hoard at the +bank. Mr. Smith, my room-mate at North Shore, had hitherto regarded my +newspaper work strictly from a business standpoint; judging it solely by the +salary it brought. Suddenly now I found I had touched an unsuspected vein of +his character. He was surprisingly pleased about these signed <em>Observer</em> +sketches. This was authorship, he said; and he spoke to every one, with most +kindly pride, of his young friend's work.</p> + +<p>My account at the savings bank touched the desired two hundred pounds mark, +when I had been just three years and nine months in Sydney. I decided to add to +it until I had completed my fourth year; and, meantime, made inquiries about +the passage to England. From this point on I made no secret of my intentions, +and a very kindly reply came from Mrs. Perkins in Dursley to the letter in +which I told her of my plan. At a venture I addressed a letter to Ted, my old +friend of <em>Livorno</em> days; but it brought no answer. Neither had the +letter of nearly four years earlier, in which his loan of one pound had been +returned with warm thanks.</p> + +<p>The months slipped by, and the fourth anniversary of my start in Sydney +arrived; and still I postponed from day to day the final step of resigning my +appointment, and booking my passage. I cannot explain this at all, for I had +become more and more eager for the adventure with every passing month. I do not +think timidity restrained me. No, I fancy a kind of epicurean pleasure in the +hourly consciousness that I was able now to take the step so soon as I chose +induced me to prolong the savouring of it; just as I have sometimes found +myself deliberately refraining for hours, and even for a day or so, from +opening a parcel of books which I have desired and looked forward to enjoying +for some time previously.</p> + +<p>The awakening from this sort of epicurean dalliance was, as the event +proved, somewhat sharp and abrupt.</p> + +<p>I did presently resign my post and engage my second-class berth in the mail +steamer <em>Orion</em>. Upon this reservation I paid a deposit of twenty +pounds; and it seemed that when my passage had been fully paid, and one or two +other necessary expenses met, I might still have my two hundred pounds intact +to carry with me to England.</p> + +<p>Thus I felt that I was handsomely provided for; and, upon the whole, I think +the average person who has reached middle life, at all events, would find it +easy to regard with understanding tolerance the fact that I was rather proud of +what I had accomplished. It really was something, all the attendant +circumstances being taken into account. But, perhaps, it is not always safe to +trust too implicitly in the genial old faith that Providence helps those who +help themselves; though the complementary theory, that Providence does not help +those who do not help themselves, may be pretty generally correct. Maybe I was +too complaisant. (If I have a superstition to-day, it is that a jealous Nemesis +keeps vengeful watch upon human complaisance.)</p> + +<p>On a certain Thursday morning, and in a mood of some elation, I walked into +the bank to close my account. The amount was two hundred and forty-seven pounds +ten shillings. Of this some twenty-five pounds was destined to complete the +payment that morning of my passage money. The cashier was able to furnish me +with Bank of England notes for two hundred pounds, and the balance, for +convenience and ready-money, I drew in Australian notes and gold. Never before +having handled at one time a greater sum than, say, five-and-twenty pounds, it +was with a sense of being a good deal of a capitalist that I buttoned my coat +as I emerged from the bank, and set out for the shipping-office. The sun shone +warmly. My arrangements were all completed. I was going home. Yes, it was with +something of an air, no doubt, that I took the pavement, humming as I passed +along the bright side of Pitt Street.</p> + +<p>All my life I have had a fondness for byways. Main thoroughfares between the +two great arteries, Pitt and George Street, were at my service; but I preferred +a narrow alley which brings one to the back premises of Messrs. Hunt and +Carton's, the wholesale stationers. Bearing to the left through that firm's +stableyard, one passes through a little arched opening which debouches upon +Tinckton Street, whence in twenty paces one reaches George Street at a point +close to the office for which I was bound.</p> + +<p>I can see now the sleek-sided lorry horses in Hunt and Carton's yard, and I +recall precisely the odour of the place as I passed through it that morning; +the heavy, flat wads of blue-wrapped paper, and the fluttering bits of straw; +the stamp of a draught horse's foot on cobble-stones. I saw the black, +clean-cut shadow of the arched place. I turned half round to note the cause of +a soft sound behind me. And just then came the dull roar of a detonation, in +the same instant that a huge weight crashed upon me, and I fell down, down, +down into the very bowels of the earth....</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>* * * * *</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>'No actual danger, I think. Excuse me, nurse!'</p> + +<p>Those were the first words I heard. The first I spoke, I believe, were:</p> + +<p>'I suppose the arch collapsed?'</p> + +<p>'Ah! To be sure, yes. There was quite a collapse, wasn't there?' said some +one blandly. 'However, you're all right now. Just open your mouth a little, +please. That's right. Better? Ah! H'm! Yes, there's bound to be pain in the +head; but we'll soon have that a bit easier.'</p> + +<p>After that, it seemed to me that I began to take some kind of warm drink, +and to talk almost at once. As a fact, I believe there was another somnolent +interval of an hour or so before I did actually reach this stage of taking +refreshment and asking questions. It was then late evening, and I was in bed in +the Sydney Hospital. There had been no earthquake, nor yet even the collapse of +an archway. Nothing at all, in fact, except that I had been smitten over the +head with an iron bar. There had been two blows, I believe; and, if so, the +second must really have been a work of supererogation, for I was conscious only +of the one crash.</p> + +<p>In one illuminating instant I recalled my visit to the bank, my two hundred +and forty-seven pounds ten shillings, my intended visit to the shipping-office, +the approaching end and climax of my work in Sydney and Dursley--six years of +it.</p> + +<p>'Nurse,' I said, with sudden, low urgency, 'will you please see if my +pocket-book is in my coat?'</p> + +<p>'Everything is taken out of patients' pockets and locked up for safety,' she +said.</p> + +<p>'Well, will you please inquire what amount of money was taken from my +pockets, nurse. It's--it's rather important,' I told her.</p> + +<p>The nurse urged the importance of my not thinking of business just now; but +after a few more words she went out, gave some one a message, and, returning, +said my matter would be seen to at once.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that a very long time passed. My head was full of a +tremendous ache. But my thoughts were active, and full of gloomy foreboding. +Just as I was about to make another appeal to the nurse, the doctor came +bustling down the ward with another man, a plain clothes policeman, I thought, +with recollection of sundry newspaper reporting experiences. The surmise was +correct. The doctor had a look at my head--his fingers were furnished +apparently with red-hot steel prongs--and held my right wrist between his +fingers. The police officer sat down heavily beside the bed, drew out a +shiny-covered note-book, and began, in an astoundingly deep voice, to ask me +laboriously futile questions.</p> + +<p>'Look here!' I said, after a few minutes, 'this is all very well, but would +you be kind enough to tell me what money was found in my pockets?'</p> + +<p>'Two sovereigns, one half sovereign, seven shillings in silver, and tuppence +in bronze,' said the sepulchral policeman, as though he thought 'tuppence' was +usually 'in' marble, or <em>lignum vitę</em>, or something of the sort. 'Also +one silver watch with leather guard, one plated cigarette-case, and----'</p> + +<p>'No pocket-book?' I interrupted despondently. The policeman brightened at +that.</p> + +<p>'So there was a pocket-book? I thought so,' the brilliant creature said. And +after that I lost all interest in these bedside proceedings. I referred the man +to the <em>Chronicle</em> office, the bank, and the shipping-office, and +requested as a special favour that Mr. Smith should be sent for; also, on a +journalistic afterthought, a reporter from the <em>Chronicle</em>. The numbers +of the bank-notes had been written down. Oh yes, on the advice of the bank +clerk, I had done this carefully at the bank counter, and preserved the record +scrupulously--in the missing pocket-book.</p> + +<p>The police--marvellous men--ascertained next morning that the notes had been +cashed at the Bank of New South Wales, in George Street, within half an hour of +the time at which I obtained them from the savings bank. And that was the last +I ever heard of them.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours later I was called upon to identify an arrested suspect +who had been seen in the vestibule of the bank at the time of my call. I did +identify the poor wretch. He was the American reporter who had been discharged +from the <em>Chronicle</em> staff. But nobody at the Bank of New South Wales +remembered ever having seen the man, and I said at once that I could not +possibly identify my assailant, not even having known that any one had attacked +me until I was told of it in hospital.</p> + +<p>The police appeared to regard me as a most unsatisfactory kind of person, as +I doubtless was from their point of view. But they had to release the American, +although, when arrested, he had two shining new sovereigns in his ragged +pockets, and was full of assorted alcoholic liquors. Their theory was that in +some way or another the American had known of my movements and plans, and +communicated these to a professional 'strong arm' thief; that I had been +shadowed to and from the bank, and that I might possibly have escaped attack +altogether but for my addiction to byways.</p> + +<p>Their theory did not greatly interest me. For the time the central fact was +all my mind seemed able to accommodate. My savings were gone, my passage to +England forfeited, my bank account closed, and--so my hot eyes saw it--my +career at an end.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XXII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>From the medical standpoint there were no complications whatever in my case; +it was just as simple as a cut finger. Regarded from this point of view, a +broken head is a small matter indeed, in a youth of abstemious habits and +healthy life. Well, he was a very thoroughly chastened youth who accepted the +cheery physician's congratulations upon his early discharge from hospital.</p> + +<p>'Nuisance about the money,' admitted the doctor genially, as he twiddled his +massive gold watch-chain. 'But it might have been a deal worse, you know; a +very great deal worse. After all, health's the thing, the only thing that +really matters.'</p> + +<p>The remark strikes me now as reasonable enough. At the time I thought it +pretty vapid twaddle. Four quiet days I spent at my North Shore lodging, and +then (by Mr. Foster's freely and most kindly given permission) back to the +<em>Chronicle</em> office again, just as before, save for one detail--I no +longer had a banking account. But was it really, 'just as before,' in any +single sense? No, I think not; I think not.</p> + +<p>Often in the years that have passed since that morning chat with the +cheerful physician in Sydney Hospital, I have heard folk speak lightly of money +losses--other people's losses, as a rule--and talk of the comparative +unimportance of these as against various other kinds of loss. Never, I think, +at all events, since those Sydney days of mine, could any one justly charge me +with overestimating the importance of money. And yet, even now, and despite the +theories of the philosophers, I incline to the opinion that few more desolating +and heart-breaking disasters can befall men and women than the loss of their +savings. I would not instance such a case as mine. But I have known cases of +both men and women who, in the later years, have lost the thrifty savings of a +working life, savings accumulated very deliberately--and at what a cost of +patient, long-sustained self-denial!--for a specific purpose: the purchase of +their freedom in the closing years; their manumission from wage-earning toil. +And I say that, in a world constituted as our world is, life knows few +tragedies more starkly fell.</p> + +<p>As for my little loss I now think it likely that in certain ways I derived +benefits from it; and, too, in other ways, permanent hurt. I was still standing +in the doorway of my manhood; all my life and energy as a man before me. But it +did not seem so at the time. At the time I thought of this handful of money as +being the sole outcome and reward for six years of pretty strenuous working +effort. (What a lot I overlooked!) I was far from telling myself that a lad of +one-and-twenty had his career still to begin. On the contrary, it seemed my +career had had for its culminating point the great adventure of going to +England, to attain which long years of toilsome work had been necessary. These +years had passed, the work was done, the culmination at hand; and now it was +undone, the career was broken, all was lost. Oh, it was a dourly tragical young +man who shared Mr. Smith's bedroom during the next few months.</p> + +<p>One odd apparent outcome of my catastrophe in a teacup has often struck me +since. No doubt, if the truth were known quite other causes had been at work; +but it is a curious fact that never, at any period of my life since the morning +on which I so gaily closed that savings bank account, have I ever taken the +smallest zest, interest, or pleasure in the saving of money. This seems to me +rather odd and noteworthy. It is, I believe, strictly true.</p> + +<p>For a few weeks after resuming my working routine I plodded along in a +rather dazed fashion, and without any definite purpose. And then, during a +wakeful hour in bed (while Mr. Smith snored quite gently and inoffensively on +the far side of our little room), I came to a definite decision. The brutal +episode of the crowbar--the weapon which had felled me was found beside me, by +the way; a heavy bar used for opening packing-cases, which the thief had +evidently picked up as he came after me through Hunt and Carton's yard--should +not be allowed to divert me from my course. Diversion at this stage was what I +could not and would not tolerate. I would go to England just the same, and +soon. I would put by a few pounds, and then work my passage home. I was +perfectly clear about it, and fell asleep now, quite content.</p> + +<p>On the next day I began making inquiries. At first I thought I could manage +it as a journalist, by writing eloquent descriptions of the passage. A little +talk at the shipping-office served to disabuse my mind of this notion. Then I +would go as a deck-hand. I was gently apprised of the fact that my services as +a deck-hand might not greatly commend themselves to the average ship-master. My +decision was not in the least affected by the little things I learned.</p> + +<p>Finally, I secured a personal introduction to the manager of the +shipping-office in which my twenty pounds deposit was still held, and induced +this gentleman to promise that he would, sooner or later, secure for me a +chance to work my passage home. He would advise me, he said, when the chance +arrived.</p> + +<p>With this I was satisfied, and returned in a comparatively cheerful mood to +my plodding. I have a shrewd suspicion that my chief, Mr. Foster, used his good +offices on my behalf with the shipping company's manager.</p> + +<p>Three months went slowly by. And then one morning a laconic note reached me +from the shipping-office.</p> + +<p>'Could you do a bit of clerking in a purser's office? If so, please see me +to-day.'</p> + +<p>It appeared that the assistant purser of one of the mail-boats had died +while on the passage between Melbourne and Sydney. The company preferred to +fill such vacancies in England, and so a temporary clerical assistant for the +purser would be shipped. Would I care to undertake it for a five-pound note and +my passage?</p> + +<p>Forty-eight hours later I had said good-bye to Sydney friends, and was +installed at a desk in the purser's office on board the <em>Orimba</em>. I had +twenty-two pounds and ten shillings in my trunk, and the promise of a +five-pound note when the steamer should reach London. It was a kind of +outsetting upon my great adventure quite different from that which I had +planned. But it was an outsetting, and a better one than I had expected, for I +had been prepared to work my passage as a deck-hand or steward.</p> + +<p>And so it fell out that when I did actually leave Australia I was too busy +at my clerking, and at inventing soporific answers to the mostly irrelevant +inquiries of more or less distracted passengers, to catch a glimpse of the land +disappearing below the horizon--the land in which I had spent the most +formative years of my life--or to spare a thought for any such matter as +sea-sickness.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="MANHOOD--E" id="MANHOOD--E">MANHOOD--ENGLAND: FIRST PERIOD</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Of late years the printers have given us reams and reams of first +impressions of such world centres as London and New York. Not to mention the +army of unknown globe-trotters and writers, celebrities of every sort and kind +have recorded their impressions. I always smile when my eyes fall upon such +writings; and, generally, I recall, momentarily at all events, some aspect of +my own arrival in England as purser's clerk on board the <em>Orimba</em>.</p> + +<p>When I read, for example, the celebrity's first impressions of New York--a +confused blend of bouquets, automobiles, newspaper interviewers, incredibly +high buildings, sumptuous luncheons, barbaric lavishness, bad road surfaces, +frenetic hospitality, wild expenditure of paper money--I think it would be more +interesting perhaps, certainly more instructive, to have the first impressions +of the immigrant, who lands with five pounds, and it may be a wife and a child +or two. Then there is the immigrant from the same end of the ship who is not +allowed to land, who is rejected by the guardians of this Paradise on earth, +because he has an insufficient number of shillings, or a weakness in his lungs. +The bouquets, automobiles, sumptuous luncheons, and things do not, one may +apprehend, figure largely in the first impressions of these last uncelebrated +people, though their impressions may embrace quite as much of the reality +concerned as do those of the famous; and, it may be, a good deal more.</p> + +<p>Broadly speaking, and as far as outlines go, I was in the position of one +who sees England for the first time. There were, I know, subtle differences; +yet, broadly speaking, that was my position. The native-born Australian, +approaching the land of his fathers for the first time, comes to it with a mass +of cherished lore and associations at least equal in weight and effect to my +childhood's knowledge and experience of England. He very often comes also to +relatives. I came, not only having no claim upon any single creature in these +islands, but having no faintest knowledge of any one among them. I carried two +letters of introduction: one from Mr. Foster to a London newspaper editor whom +he knew only by correspondence, and the other from Mr. Rawlence to a painter, +who just then (though I knew it not) was in Algiers.</p> + +<p>The purser paid me my five pounds before I left the ship, wished me luck, +and vowed, as his habit was in saying good-bye to people, that he was very glad +he had met me. And then I got into the train with my luggage, and set out for +Fenchurch Street and the conquest of London.</p> + +<p>The passengers had all disappeared long since. England swallows up shiploads +of them almost every hour without winking. My arrival differed in various ways +from theirs. For instance, I had had no leisure in which to think about it, to +anticipate it, until I was actually seated in the train, bound for Fenchurch +Street. They had been arriving, in a sense, ever since we left the +Mediterranean; after a passage, by the way, resembling in every particular all +other passages from Australia to England in mail steamers.</p> + +<p>To be precise, I think the first impression received by me was that the +England I had come to was a quite astonishingly dingy land. The people seemed +to me to have a dingy pallor, like the table-linen of the cheaper sort of +lodging-house. They looked, not so much ill as unwashed, not so much poor as +cross, hipped, tired, worried, and annoyed about something. They wore their +hats at an angle then unfamiliar to me, with a forward rake. They must laugh +or, at any rate, smile sometimes, I thought. This is where <em>Punch</em> comes +from. It is the land of Dickens. It is, in short, Merry England. But, as I +regarded the dingy, set faces from the railway's carriage window, it seemed +inconceivable that their owners ever could have laughed, or screwed up the skin +around their eyes to look out happily under sunny blue skies upon bright and +cheery scenes.</p> + +<p>Since then I have again and again encountered the most indomitable +cheerfulness in Londoners, in circumstances which would drive any Australian to +tears, or blasphemy, or suicide, or to all three. And I know now that many +Londoners wash as frequently as Australians, or nearly so. But my first +impression of the appearance of those I saw was an impression of sour, cross, +unwashed sadness. And, being an impressionable person, I immediately found an +explanatory theory. The essential difference between these folk and people +following similarly humble avocations in Sydney, I thought, is that these +people, even those of them who, personally, were never acquainted with hunger, +live in the shadow of actual want; even of actual starvation. In Sydney they do +not. That accounts for the don't-care-a-damn light-heartedness seen in +Australian faces, and for the dominance of care in these faces.</p> + +<p>I still had everything to learn, and have since learned some of it. And I do +not think now that my theory was particularly incorrect. The mere physical fact +that the working men in Sydney take a bath every day as a matter of course, and +that in London they do not all take one every week, trifling as it may seem, is +itself accountable for something. But the ever-present knowledge that +starvation is a real factor in life, not in Asia, but in the house next door +but one, if not in one's own house--that is a great moulder of facial +expression. It plays no part whatever in the life of the country from which I +had come.</p> + +<p>As my train drew to within half a dozen miles of its destination, I became +vaguely conscious of the real inner London as distinguished from its +extraordinary dockland and water approaches. We passed a huge and grimy +dwelling-house, overlooking the railway, a 'model' dwelling-house; and in +passing I caught sight of an incredible legend, graven in stone on the side of +this building, intimating that here were the homes of more than one thousand +families. That rather took my breath away.</p> + +<p>Then we dived into a tunnel, and emerged a few seconds later, screeching +hoarsely, right in London. It hit me below the belt. I experienced what they +call a 'sinking' feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought what a fool I was, +how puny and insignificant; and, again, what a fool I must be, to come +blundering along here into the maw of this vast beast, this London--I and my +miserable five-and-twenty pounds! For one wild moment the panic-born thought of +hurrying back to my purser and begging re-engagement for the outward trip to +Australia scuttled across my mind. And then the train jolted to a standstill, +and, with a faint kind of nausea in my throat, I stepped out into London.</p> + +<p>I have to admit that it was not at all a glorious or inspiriting +home-coming. It was as different from the home-coming of my dreams (when a +minor capitalist) as anything well could be. But yet this was indubitably +London, my destination; the objective of all my efforts for a long time past. A +uniformed boot-black gave me a sudden thought of St. Peter's Orphanage--the +connection, if any existed, must have been rather subtle--and that somehow +stiffened my spine a little. Here I was, after all, the utterly friendless +Orphanage lad who, a dozen thousand miles away, had willed that he should go +out into the world, do certain kinds of things, meet certain kinds of people, +and journey all across the world to his native England. Well, without much +assistance, I had accomplished these things, and was actually there, in London. +There was tingling romance in the thought of it, after all. No drizzling rain +could alter that. Having successfully adventured so far, surely I was not to be +daunted by dingy faces, bricks, and mortar, and houses said to accommodate a +thousand families!</p> + +<p>And so, with tolerably authoritative words to a porter about luggage, I +squared my shoulders in response to life's undeniable appeal to the +adventurous.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>When I had been a dozen years or more in London, a man I knew bewailed to me +one night the fact that he had to leave Fenchurch Street Station in the small +hours of the next morning, and did not know how on earth he would manage it.</p> + +<p>'Why not sleep there to-night?' I suggested carelessly.</p> + +<p>'Sleep there!' he repeated with a stare. 'But there are no hotels in that +part of the world.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, bless you, yes!' said I. 'You try the Blue Boar. You will find it +almost as handy as sleeping in the booking-office, without nearly so strong a +smell of kippers and dirt.'</p> + +<p>I do not think my friend ventured upon the Blue Boar; but I did, a dozen +years earlier, and stayed there for two nights. I wonder if any other new +arrival from Australia has done that! Hardly, I think. And yet there is +something to be said for it. It was quite inexpensive, as London hotels go. +(They are all much more expensive than Australian hotels, though the cost of +living in England is appreciably lower than it is in the Antipodes.) And +putting up there obviates the embarrassing necessity of taking a cab from the +station, when you cannot think of a place to which you can tell the man to +drive.</p> + +<p>I cherish the thought that I have become something of a tradition at the +Blue Boar, where I have reason to think I am probably remembered to-day by a +now aged Boots and others--many, many others--as 'The genelmun as orduder +bawth.'</p> + +<p>On rising after my first insomnious night there, I went prowling all about +the house in search of the bathroom. Finally, I was routed back to my room by a +newly-wakened maid (in curl-pins), who told me rather crossly that I could not +have a 'bawth' unless I ordered it 'before'and.' She did not say how long +beforehand. But I was in a hurry to get out of doors, so I did without my bath, +and promised myself I would see to it later in the day.</p> + +<p>That afternoon, footsore, tired, and feeling inexpressibly grimy, I +interviewed the lady again, and begged permission to have a bath. She was then +in a much brighter humour, and in curls in place of pins. She promised to +arrange the matter shortly, and send some accredited representative to warn me +when the psychological moment arrived. Where could I be found?</p> + +<p>'Oh, I'll go and undress at once,' I said.</p> + +<p>'No, don't do that, sir; I cawn't get a bawth all in a minute,' she told me. +'Perhaps you'd like to wite in the smokin'-room.'</p> + +<p>Grateful for the absence of the morning's crossness I agreed at once, and +retired to the fly-blown smoking-room, where there was ample choice of +distraction for a writing man between a moth-eaten volume called <em>King's +Concordance</em> and a South-Eastern Railway time-table cover, very solidly +fashioned, with lots of crimson and gold, but no inside. Here I smoked half a +pipe, and would have rested, but that I felt too dirty. Presently Boots came +in, elderly and sad but furtively bird-like, both in the way he held his head +on one side and in the jerky quickness of his movements:</p> + +<p>'You the genelmun as orduder bawth?' he asked anxiously. I admitted it, and +he gave a long sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>'Oo! All right,' he said, almost gladly. 'I'll letcher know when it's +ready.'</p> + +<p>And he hopped out. I finished my pipe, yawned, opened the Concordance, and +shut it again hastily, by reason of the extraordinarily pungent mustiness its +pages emitted. Then I went prospecting into the passage between the stairs and +the private bar. Here I passed a sort of ticket-office window, at which a +middle-aged Hebrew lady sat, eating winkles from a plate with the aid of a +hairpin. Her face lit up with sudden interest as she saw me:</p> + +<p>'Oo!' she cried with spirit, 'er you the genelmun has orduder bawth?'</p> + +<p>Again I pleaded guilty, and with a broad, reassuring smile, as of one who +should say: 'Bless you, we've had visitors just as mad as you before this, and +never attempted to lasso or otherwise constrain them. There's no limit to our +indulgence toward gentlemen afflicted as you are,' she nodded her ringleted +head, and said: 'Right you are, sir. I'll send Boots to letcher know when it's +ready.'</p> + +<p>Apart from consideration of her occupation, which seemed to me to demand +privacy, I could not stand gazing at this lady, though I was momentarily +inclined to ask if the Lord Mayor and his Aldermen had been invited to attend +my bathing; so I passed on to the only refuge from the Concordance room--the +private bar. There was a really splendid young lady in attendance here, who +smiled upon me so sweetly that I felt constrained to order something to drink. +Also, I was greatly athirst. But the trouble was it happened I had never tasted +beer, and could think of nothing else suitable that was likely to be available. +While I pondered, one hand on the counter, the still smiling barmaid opened +conversation brightly:</p> + +<p>'Er you the genelmun what's orduder bawth?' she asked engagingly.</p> + +<p>I began to feel that there must be some kind of a special London joke about +this formula. Perhaps it is a phrase in the current comic opera, I thought. A +pity that ignorance should prevent my capping it! At all events I was saved for +the moment from choosing a drink, for three hilarious city gentlemen entered +from the street just then, and demanded instant attention. As I hung +indeterminately, waiting, I heard a voice in the passage outside, and +recognised it as belonging to that elderly bird, the Boots.</p> + +<p>'No, I ain't awastin' uv me time,' it said. 'I'm alookin' fer somebody. I +serpose you ain't seed the genelmun as orduder bawth anywhere abart, 'ave +yer?'</p> + +<p>Fearful lest further delay should lead to the bricking up of the bathroom, +or to a crier being sent round the town for 'the genelmun,' etc., I hastened +out almost into the arms of the retainer, and forcibly checked him, as he began +on an interrogative note to cheep out: 'You the genelmun as orduder----'</p> + +<p>Coming from a country where, even in the poorest workman's house, the +bathroom at all events is always in commission, I was greatly struck by this +incident; more especially when, an hour later, I heard the chambermaid cry out +over the banisters:</p> + +<p>'Mibel! The genelmun as orduder bawth sez 'e'll 'ave a chop wiv 'is tea!'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>It was at the beginning of the second day at the Blue Boar that I counted +over my money, and was rather startled to discover that expenditure in pennies +can mount up quite rapidly.</p> + +<p>In those days pennies were comparatively infrequent, almost negligible, in +Australia; the threepenny-bit representing for most purposes the lowest price +asked for anything. (It still is a coin more generally used in Australia than +anywhere else, I think.) Now, during my first day or so in London I was so +struck by the number of things one could do and get for a penny, that it seemed +I was really spending hardly anything. I covered enormous distances on the tops +of omnibuses, and talked a great deal with their purple-faced drivers, most of +whom wore tall hats, and carried nosegays in their coats. When beggars and +crossing-sweepers asked, I gave, unhesitatingly, in the Australian fashion, as +one gives matches when asked for them. I gave only pennies; and now was +startled to find what a comparatively large sum can be disbursed in a day or +so, in single pennies, upon 'bus fares, newspapers, charity, and the like.</p> + +<p>The two men to whom my only letters of introduction were addressed were both +out of town: one in Algiers, the other, I gathered, on the Riviera. I suppose +most people in London have never reflected on the oddity of the position of +that person in their midst who does not know one solitary soul in the entire +vast city. And yet, there must always be hundreds in that position. There was a +time when I had serious thoughts of asking a policeman to recommend to me the +cheapest quarter in which one might obtain a lodging, for I had already +conceived a great admiration for the uniformed wardens of London's streets.</p> + +<p>I studied the newspaper advertisements under the heading 'Apartments.' But +some instinct told me these did not refer to London's cheapest lodgings, and I +felt a most urgent need for economy in the handling of my small hoard. These +few pounds must support me, I thought, until I could cut out a niche for +myself, here where there seemed hardly room for the feet of the existing +inhabitants. Already in quite a vague way I had become conscious of the shadow +of that dread presence whose existence colours the outlook of millions in +England. I wonder if the consciousness had begun to affect my expression!</p> + +<p>My choice of a locality was made eventually upon ridiculously inadequate +grounds. In a newspaper article dealing with charitable work, I came upon some +such words as these: 'Life is supported upon an astoundingly small outlay of +money among the poor householders, and even poorer lodgers, in these streets +opening out of the Seven Sisters Road in the district lying between Stoke +Newington and South Tottenham. Here are families whose weekly rental is far +less than many a man spends on his solitary dinner in club or restaurant,' +etc.</p> + +<p>'This appears to be the sort of place for me,' I told myself. Remembering +certain green omnibuses that bore the name of Stoke Newington, I descended from +one of them an hour later outside a hostelry called the Weavers' Arms. +(Transatlantic slang has dubbed these places 'gin-mills'; a telling name, I +think.)</p> + +<p>One of my difficulties was that I had no clear idea what amount would be +considered cheap in London, by way of rent for a single room. The one thing +clear in my mind was that I must, if possible, find the cheapest. I had already +gathered from chance talk, on board the <em>Orimba</em> and elsewhere, that the +Australian 'board and lodging' system was not much used in London, save in +strata which would be above my means. The cheaper way, I gathered, was to pay +so much for a room and 'attendance,' which should include the preparation of +one's own food. The cheapest method of all, I had heard, and the method I meant +to adopt, was to rent a furnished room, but without 'attendance,' and to +provide meals for myself in the room or outside.</p> + +<p>By this time the thing most desirable in my eyes was the possession of a +room of my own. I wanted badly to be able to shut myself in with my luggage; to +secure privacy, and be able to think, without the distracting consciousness of +my small capital melting away from me at an unnecessary and alarmingly rapid +pace. Anything equivalent to the comparative refinement, quietness, +cleanliness, and spacious outlook of my North Shore quarters was evidently +quite out of the question; and would have been, as a matter of fact, even at +double their cost in Sydney.</p> + +<p>Late that afternoon a cab conveyed me with my baggage to No. 27 Mellor +Street, a small thoroughfare leading out of the Seven Sisters Road. Here I had +secured a barely furnished top-floor room, with a tiny oil-stove in it, for 4s. +6d. per week. I paid a week's rent in advance, and, having deposited my bags +there, I sallied forth into the Seven Sisters Road, with the room key in my +pocket, to make domestic purchases. Billy cans were not available, but I bought +a tin kettle for my oil-stove, some tea, a very little simple crockery and +cutlery, some wholemeal brown bread (which I had heard was the most nutritious +variety), butter, and cheese. Also some lamp oil, for the simple furniture of +my room included, in addition to its oil-stove, a blue china lamp with pink and +silver flowers upon its sides. Most of these things I ordered in one shop, and +then, carrying one or two other purchases, hurried back to my room to be ready +for the shop-boy who was to deliver the remainder.</p> + +<p>Over the little meal that I presently prepared, with the aid of the +oil-stove, my spirits, which had fallen steadily during the hunt for a room, +brightened considerably. Pipe in mouth I made some alterations in the +disposition of my furniture, placing the little table nearer to the window, and +shifting the bed to give me a glimpse of sky when I should be occupying it. The +oil-stove made a regrettable stench I found, and the lamp appeared to suffer +from some nervous affection which made its flame jump spasmodically at +intervals. The mattress on my bed was extraordinarily diversified in contour by +little mountain ranges, kopjes which could not be induced to amalgamate with +its general plan. Also, I was not so much alone in my sanctum as I had hoped to +be. There were other forms of life, whose company I do not think I ever +entirely evaded during my whole period as a lodger of the poorest grade in +London.</p> + +<p>But for the time these trifles did not greatly trouble me. Drunken brawls +which occurred later in the evening, immediately under my window, were a +nuisance. But it was all new; my health of mind and body was sound and +unstrained; and I presently went to bed rather well pleased with myself, after +an hour spent in considering and adding to sundry notes I had accumulated, for +articles and sketches presently to be written.</p> + +<p>My hope was to be able to win a place in London journalism without having +any sort of an appointment. The very phrase 'free-lance' appealed to my sense +of the romantic. 'All the clever fellows are free-lances, you know, in the Old +Country.' I recalled many such statements made to me in Sydney. Prudence might +have led me to offer myself for a post of some kind, if the editor to whom my +letter of introduction was addressed had been visible. But he was not in +London; and, in my heart, I was rather glad. It should be as a free agent, an +unknown adventurer in Grub Street, that I would win my journalistic and +literary spurs in the Old World. Other men had succeeded....</p> + +<p>Musing in this hopeful vein I fell asleep, with never a hint of a +presentiment of what did actually lie before me. I suppose the chiefest boon +that mortals enjoy is just that negative blessing: their total inability to see +even so far into the future as to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The compilation of anything like a detailed record of my first two years in +London would be a task to alarm a Zola. I could not possibly face it; and, if I +did, no good end could be served by such a harrowing of my own feelings.</p> + +<p>Such a compilation would be a veritable monument of squalid details; of +details infinitely mean and small, and, for the most part, infinitely, +unredeemedly ugly. Heaven knows I have no need to remind myself by the act of +writing of all those dismal details. Mere poverty, starvation itself, even, may +be lightsome things, by comparison with the fetid misery which surrounded me +during the major part of those two years.</p> + +<p>People say, with a smile or a sigh, as their mood dictates, that one half +the world does not know how the other half lives. So far is that truism from +comprehending the tragic reality of what poverty in London means, that I have +no hesitation in saying this: there is no wider divergence between the lives of +tigers and the lives of men than lies between the lives of English people, +whose homes in some quarters I could name are separated by no more than the +width of a street, a mews, and, it may be, a walled strip of blackened grass +and tree-trunks.</p> + +<p>It is not simply that some well-to-do people are ignorant regarding details +of the lives of the poor. It is that not a single one among the cultivated and +comfortably off people, with whom I came to mix later on, had any conception at +all regarding the nature and character of the sort of life I saw all round me +during my first two years in London. I consider that London's cab horses were +substantially better off than the section of London's poor among whom I lived +in places like South Tottenham, the purlieus of that long unlovely highway--the +Seven Sisters Road.</p> + +<p>Had I been of a more gregarious and social bent, the experience must have +broken my heart, or unhinged my mind, I think. But, from the very first day, I +began systematically to avoid intercourse with those about me; and in time this +became more and more important to me. So much so indeed that, as I remember it, +quite a large proportion of my many changes of lodgings were due to some +threatened intimacy, some difficulty over avoiding a fellow lodger. Other moves +were due to plagues of insects, appalling odours, persistent fighting and +screaming in the next room, wife-beating; in one case a murder; in another the +fact that a sodden wretch smashed my door in, under the impression that I had +hidden his wife, by whose exertions he had lived, and soaked, for years. I must +have removed more than a score of times in those two years, and more than once +it was to seek a cheaper lodging--cheaper than the previous hell!</p> + +<p>No, it would never do for me to attempt a detailed record of this period. +Even consideration of it in outline causes the language of melodrama to spring +to the pen. Melodrama! What drama ever conceived in the mind of man could plumb +the reeking depths of the life of the vicious among London's poor? Things may +be a little better nowadays. Beyond all question, the way of the aspirant in +Grub Street appears vastly smoother than in my time. It is all cut and dried +now, they say--schools of journalism, literary agents, organisations of one +sort and another. But with regard to the life of the very poor, of the +submerged, I have seen signs in the twentieth century which to my experienced +eye suggested that no fundamental change had taken place since I lived among +these cruelly debased people.</p> + +<p>One would never dare to say it in print, of course, but I know very well +that, while I lived among them, I was perfectly convinced that, for very +many--not for all, of course, but for very many--there could be no fundamental +improvement this side of the grave. For them the only really suitable and +humane institution, I told myself a hundred times, would be a place of +compulsory euthanasia--comfortably equipped lethal cubicles. For some there +would be little need of the compulsory element. Police court officials +(especially the court missionaries, the only philanthropic workers who earned +my admiration; and they, of course, belonged to a properly organised corps, +working on salary) know something of these people; but the big, bright, busy +world of cleanly, educated folk know less of them than they know of prehistoric +fauna.</p> + +<p>I have lived under the same roof with men who beat their wives every week of +their lives, and figured in police courts every month of their lives, when not +in prison; with women who, in their lives, had swallowed up a dozen small +homes, through the pawn-shops and in the form of gin; with men and women who, +so degraded were they, were like as not to kick an infant as they passed if +they saw one on the ground; with human beings who had fallen so very low that +on my honour I had far liefer share a room with a hog than with one of them. +Yes, the close companionship of swine would have been much less distasteful; +and, be it noted, less unwholesome. I have written articles about Australian +wattle blossom, about the bush and the sea--oh, about a thousand things!--with +nothing more than a few inches of filthy lath and plaster between my aching +head and such human wrecks as these.</p> + +<p>'Quite brutal!' one has heard some ignorant innocent exclaim, when accident +gave him a fleeting glimpse of a denizen of the under world. Brutal! I know +something of brutes, and something of London's under world, and I am well +assured no brute known to zoology ever reaches the loathsome depths touched by +humanity's lowest dregs. It would sicken me to recall instances in proof of +this; but I have known scores of them. The beast brutes have no alcohol. That +makes a world of difference. They are actuated mainly by such cleanly motives +as healthy hunger. They have no nameless vices; and they live in surroundings +which make dirt, as dirt exists among humanity's under world, impossible. In +changing my lodging I have fled from neighbours who, at times, sheltered +acquaintances of whom it might literally be said that you could not walk upon +pavement they had trodden without risk of physical contamination.</p> + +<p>Drink! A man occupied a room next to mine, at one time, of which his mother +was the tenant. Somewhere, I was told, he had at least one wife, upon whom he +sponged, and children. (His kind invariably beget children, many children.) +This man was in middle life, and his mother, a frail creature, was old. She had +some small store of money; enough, I was told, for the few more months she was +likely to live, and to save her from a pauper funeral. She had some lingering +internal complaint. When the man had finished drinking his mother's little +hoard away, he drove her out of doors--not merely with shameful words, but with +blows--to get work, and earn liquor for him. Incredible as it seems she did get +work, and he did take her earnings, and drink them, for a number of weeks. Then +came the morning when she could not leave her bed. That week the rest of her +furniture was sold, and the son drank it. On Saturday night he threw his mother +from her bed to the floor, removed the bed and bedding, and drank them. She was +dead when he returned, and on Sunday morning he took from his murdered mother's +body the wedding ring which she, miraculously, had preserved to the end, and +drank that. No one slew him. There was no lethal chamber for him. He did not +even figure in a police court for this particular murder.</p> + +<p>People think <em>L'Assommoir</em> dreadful, horrible. I cannot imagine what +stayed Zola's hand; I am at a loss to account for his astonishing reticence, if +he really knew anything of the worst degradation for which drink is +accountable. In two short years I must have come upon a score of instances in +every respect as horrible as that I have mentioned. And some that were worse; +yes, more vile; too vile to recall even in thought. Brothers and sisters, +fathers and daughters, mothers and sons-- Oh! shame and degradation +unspeakable! I do not know if any section of the community is to blame. I do +know that the glory and brightness of life, the romance and the splendour of +life--beauty, chivalry, loyalty, pomp, grandeur, nobility--all have been for +ever robbed of some of their refulgence for me, as the result of two years in +the under world of London. Life could never be quite the same again.</p> + +<p>I stood at the base of a statue and watched the stately passage among her +cheering subjects of the most venerable lady in Christendom. My very soul +thrilled loyalty to Queen Victoria, loyalty that was proud and glad. And on the +instant it was stabbed by the thought of another widowed mother, flung from the +death-bed her worn fingers had toiled to save, and flung to die on the floor, +by her son. The shame of it, in Christian London!</p> + +<p>Were the poor always with us? Probably. But the awful human vermin that I +knew, were they always with us? I doubt it; nay, I do not believe it. I believe +they are part of England's sin, of England's modern wickedness. I believe they +are the maggots bred out of the sore upon which our modern industrialism is +based. When I looked upon the vilest of this city spawn, if my rising gorge +permitted thought at all, I always had visions of little shrinking children +whipped to work in English factories and mines and potteries; of souls ground +out of anęmic bodies that Manchester might fatten. Free trade--licensed +slaughter! The rights of the individual--the sacred liberty of the subject! Oh, +I know it made England the emporium of the world, and built up some splendid +fortunes, and--well, I believe it gave us the human vermin of our cities.</p> + +<p>There is no cure for them in this world. Nor yet for their damned and doomed +offspring--while the individual liberty shibboleths endure, while mere numbers +rule, or while our degenerate fear of every form of compulsion lasts. And the +present tendency is, not merely to stipulate for complete freedom of action for +the poor wretches, but to invite them to govern, by count of heads. So +marvellously enlightened are we becoming!</p> + +<p>Those nightmarish two years seem a long way off. I must be careful not to +mislead myself regarding them. I have used such phrases as 'The poor of +London.' I think I would delete those phrases if I were writing for other than +my own eyes. I would not pretend that I like the poor of London, as companions. +But they have, as a class, notable and admirable qualities. And many of the +very poorest of them have more of courage, and more I think of honesty, than +the average member of the class I came to know better later on: the big +division which includes all the professional people. The human wrecks are of +the poor, of course. But the really typical poor people are workers; the +wrecks, their parasites.</p> + +<p>Nothing in life is much more remarkable to me than an old man or an old +woman of the poorer working-class, say, in South Tottenham, who, at the end of +a long, struggling life remains decent, honest, cleanly, upright, and +self-respecting. That I think truly marvellous. I am moved to uncover my head +before such an one. The innate decency of such people thrills me to pride of +race, where a naval review or a procession of royalties would leave me cold. I +know something of the environment in which those English men and women have +lived out their arduous lives. Among them I have seen evidences of a bravery +which I deliberately believe to be greater than any that has won the Victoria +Cross.</p> + +<p>I once had a room--which I had to leave because of its closeness to a noisy +street--immediately over a basement in which one old bed-ridden man and two +women lived. The man had been bed-ridden for more than thirty years, and still +was alive; for more than thirty years! His wife and daughter supported him and +themselves. The daughter made match-boxes, and was paid 2 1/4d. for each gross; +but out of that generous remuneration she had to buy her own paste and thread. +The mother lived over a wash-tub. They all worked, slept, and ate, in the one +room, of course, and the man was never outside it for a moment.</p> + +<p>At the time of my arrival in that house, the daughter had recently taken to +her bed. She was a middle-aged woman, far gone in consumption. It happened that +a notorious inebriate, a woman, during one of her periodical visits to the +local police court, told a missionary about my neighbours. He visited them, and +was impressed, though accustomed to such sights. But he could do nothing to +help, it seemed. They were very proud, and the mother washed very well; so well +that she had work enough to keep her going day and night; and, working day and +night, was able to earn an average of close upon eleven shillings weekly, of +which only four shillings had to be paid in rent, and a trifle in medicine, +soap, fuel, etc., leaving from five to six shillings a week for the two +invalids and herself to live upon. So there was nothing to worry about, she +said. She had stood at the tub for thirty years, and ...</p> + +<p>Well, the missionary spoke to other folk, and other folk were touched, and +finally a lady and a gentleman came, with an ambulance and a carriage, and +twenty golden sovereigns. The old woman's liberty was not to be interfered +with. She herself was to have the spending of the money. She was to take her +patients to the seaside, and rest for a few weeks, after her thirty years at +the tub. I find a difficulty in setting the thing down, for I can smell the +steamy odours of that basement now.</p> + +<p>This remarkable old woman quite civilly declined the gift, and explained how +well she could manage without assistance; proudly adding that she had no fear +of failing in her weekly subscription to the funeral club, so that her husband +was happy in the knowledge that no pauper funeral awaited him. She was barely +sixty-two herself, and had managed very well these thirty years and more, and +trusted, with thanks, that she would manage to the end without charity.</p> + +<p>Argument was futile. So the lady and gentleman drove away with their bright +sovereigns; and when my next removal came the old woman was still at her tub, +the other two helpless ones still on their beds, and living yet. One need not +consider the wild unwisdom of it; but in the astounding courage and endurance +of it, I hold there is lesson and ensample for the bravest man in British +history. And among the working poor such incidents cannot be very rare, because +I knew of quite a number in my very brief experience.</p> + +<p>That the England from whose loins such master men and women have sprung +should have bred also the festering spawn of human vermin that litters many of +the mean streets of London, aye, and the seats in its parks and gardens, is a +tragic humiliation; an indictment, too, as I see it. Charity may cover a +multitude of sins. It can never cover this running sore; or, if it should ever +cover it completely, so much the worse; for I swear it can never heal, cleanse, +or remove it. Nothing sentimental, personal, and voluntary, nothing sporadic +and spasmodic can ever accomplish that. And to approach it with bleatings about +the will of the people, universal suffrage, old age, or any other kind of +pension, dole, or the like, is to be guilty of a cruel and contemptible kind of +mockery.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Looking back across the long succession of crowded years upon the period of +my struggle to obtain a foothold in the London world of journalism and +literature, I see a certain amount of pathos, some bathos, and something too in +the way of steadfast, unmercenary endurance, which is not altogether unworthy +of respect.</p> + +<p>In my humble opinion a foothold in that world was at least rather better +worth having in those days than it is to-day for a thinking man of literary +instincts. It was certainly vastly harder to obtain, in the absence of any +influence or assistance from established friends.</p> + +<p>Of late years I have met representatives of a type of young journalist which +had not yet come into existence when I arrived in London. In those days (when +the published price of novels was still 31s. 6d., and halfpenny dailies were +unknown) there were three kinds of newspaper men. There were the hacks, very +able fellows, some of them, but mostly given to bar and taproom life; there +were thoroughly well qualified, widely informed, sober pressmen of the middle +sort, who often spent their whole lives in one employ; and there were literary +men, frequently of high scholarly attainments, who wrote for newspapers. +To-day, there are not very many representatives of these three divisions. The +modern host of journeymen, with their captains, keen men of business, may +represent a great advance upon their predecessors. Since I am told we live in +an age of wonderfully rapid progress, I suppose they must. They certainly are +different. To realise this fully one has only to come in contact, once, with +one of the few surviving practitioners of the earlier type. They stand out like +trees in--shall I say?--a flower-bed.</p> + +<p>Ignorance of journalistic conditions and requirements, combined with a +foolish sort of personal sensitiveness or vanity, had more to do with my early +hardships and difficulties than anything in the quality of my work. In the +light of practical knowledge acquired later I see that I might with ease have +earned at least five times the amount of money I did earn in those first years +by doing about half the amount of work I did, and--knowing how to dispose of +it. I concentrated my entire stock of youthful energy upon writing and reading, +and really worked very hard indeed. That, I thought, was my business. Some +vague, benevolent power, 'the World,' I suppose, was to see to it that I got my +reward. My part was to do the work. Good work might be trusted to bring its own +reward. And, in any case, I asked no more than that I should be able to live +with decency and go on with my work. I no longer had the faintest sort of +interest in the idea of saving money. That ambition died with the end of my +saving days in Sydney. I never thought about it at all. It simply had ceased to +exist.</p> + +<p>Well, my work, as a matter of fact, was not at all bad, and it was amazingly +abundant. I would wager I wrote not less than three hundred articles, sketches, +and stories during my first year, probably more, and always in the most hostile +and unsuitable sort of environments. And my reward in that first year was +slightly less than twenty pounds sterling, something well below an average of +two guineas each month. I suppose I might have starved in that first year if I +had not had some twenty pounds in hand at the beginning of it. I had not twenty +shillings in hand at the end of it, and yet I had already learned what hunger +meant; not the bracing sensation of being sharp set and enjoying one's meal, +but the dull, deadening, sickly sensation which comes of sustained work during +weeks of bread and butter (or dripping) diet, and none too much of that.</p> + +<p>The devilish thing about an insufficient dietary is that it saps one's +manhood. Few people whose circumstances have been uniformly comfortable realise +that the stomach is the real seat of self-respect, courage, dignity, good +manners, and the higher sort of honour, not to mention the spirits and +emotions. Most would scoff at the suggestion, of course, feeling that it showed +the low nature of the suggester. And the thing of it is they cannot possibly +test the truth of it. For, given an average share of self-control and +will-power, any educated person can starve him or herself for a week or more, +deliberately and of set purpose, without much inconvenience, with no +difficulty, and no loss of self-respect.</p> + +<p>It is starvation, or semi-starvation <em>from necessity</em>, combined with +a hard-working routine of life, and without the soul-supporting knowledge that +one can stop and order a good meal whenever one chooses; it is continuous and +enforced lack of proper nutriment, endured throughout sustained and +unsuccessful efforts to overcome the poverty that enforces it, that tells upon +one's humanity and coarsens the fibre of one's personality. There is a certain +sustaining exhilaration about voluntary abstinence from food, due to the +contemplation of one's mind's mastery. The reverse is true of the hunger due to +the unsuccess of one's efforts to obtain the wherewithal to get better food and +more of it.</p> + +<p>Poverty is a teacher, a most powerful schoolmaster, I freely grant. But the +most of the lessons it teaches are lessons I had liefer not learn. As a teacher +its one vehicle of instruction is the cane. First, it weakens and humiliates +the pupil; and then, at every turn, it beats him, teaching him to walk with +cowering shoulders, furtive eyes, a sour and suspicious mind. I have no good +word to say for poverty; and I believe an insufficient dietary to be infernally +bad for any one--worse, upon the whole, than an over-abundant one--and +especially so for young men or women who are striving to produce original +work.</p> + +<p>I have heard veterans criticise their sleek juniors, with a round assertion +that if these youngsters had had to fight their way on a crust, as the veteran +said he did, they would be vastly better men for it. I do not believe it. Hard +work, and even disappointment and loss, are doubtless rich in educational and +disciplinary values; but not that wolfish, soul-crushing fight for insufficient +food, not mere poverty. I have tried them, and I know.</p> + +<p>Every day a procession of more or less battered veterans in life's fight +straggles across the floors of the police courts, from waiting-room to dock and +dock to cells. 'How extraordinarily vicious the poor are!' says some shallow +observer. In reality, a very large proportion of these battered ones are there +as drinkers. And, in any case, the whole of them put together (including the +many who require not penal but medical treatment), supposing they were all +viciously criminal--all violent thieves, say--what a tiny handful they +represent of the poor of London!</p> + +<p>The enormous majority of the poor never set foot in a police court. And yet, +for one who knows anything of the conditions in which they live, how marvellous +that is! Most educated people, after all, go through life, from cradle to +grave, without once experiencing any really strong temptation to break the law +of the land. The very poor are hardly ever free from such temptation; hardly +ever free from it. I know. I, with all the advantages behind me of traditions, +associations, memories, hopes, knowledge, and tastes, to which most very poor +people are strangers, I have felt my fingers itch, my stomach crave woundily, +as I passed along a mean street in which food-stuffs were exposed outside shop +windows; a practice which, upon a variety of counts, ought long since to have +been abolished by law.</p> + +<p>Oh, the decency, the restraint, and the enduring law-abidingness of London's +poor, in the face of continuously flaunting plenty, of gross ostentation! It is +the greatest miracle of our time. The comparative absence of either religion or +philosophy among them to-day makes the spectacle of their docility, to me, far +more remarkable than anything in the history of mediaeval martyrdom. When I +come to consider also the prodigiously irritant influences of modern life in +its legislation, journalism, amusements, swift locomotion, and, not least, its +education for the masses, then I see wireless telegraphy and such things as +trifles, and the abiding self-restraint of the very poor as our greatest +marvel.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>After my second year in London I became approximately wealthy. Early in the +third year, at all events, I earned as much as five guineas in a single month, +and ate meat almost every day; in other words I began to earn pretty nearly +one-third as much as I had earned some years previously in Sydney. I now bought +books, and no longer always, as before, at the cost of a meal or so. Holywell +Street was a great delight to me, and I never quite comprehended how Londoners +could bring themselves to let it go. I doubt if Fleet Street raised a single +protest, and yet-- Well, it was surprising.</p> + +<p>I wrote rather less in this period, and used more method in my attacks upon +the editors. I even succeeded in actually interviewing one or two of them, +including the gentleman to whom I carried a note of introduction from a +colleague he had never met. But I do not think I gained anything by these +interviews. I might possibly have done so had they come earlier, while yet the +freedom of easier days and of sunshine was in my veins. But my mean street +period had affected me materially. It had made me morbidly self-conscious, and +suspiciously alive to the least hint of patronage or brusqueness.</p> + +<p>It is true I gave hours to the penetration of editorial sanctums; but in +nearly every case my one desire, when I reached them, was to escape from them +quickly without humiliation. In a busy man's very natural dislike of +interruption, or anxious glance toward his clock, I saw contempt for my +obscurity and suspicion of my poverty. And, after all, I had nothing to say to +these gentlemen, save to beg them to read the effusions I pressed upon them; an +appeal they would far rather receive on half a sheet of notepaper. As to +impressing my personality upon them in any way, as I say, my uneasy thoughts in +their presence were usually confined to the problem of how best I might escape +without actual discredit.</p> + +<p>Once, I remember, in a very lean month, I chanced to see one of the +Olympians passing with god-like nonchalance into the restaurant of a well-known +hotel. On the instant, and without giving myself time for reflection, I +followed him down the glittering vestibule, and into a palatial dining-hall. +The hour was something between one and two o'clock, and a minute before I had +been thoughtfully weighing the relative merits of an immediate allowance of +sausages and mashed potatoes for fivepence, or a couple of stale buns for one +penny, to be followed at nightfall by a real banquet--seven-pennyworth of +honest beef and vegetables. Now, with a trifle over four shillings in my +pocket, I was, to outward seeming, carelessly scanning a menu, in which no +single dish, not even the soup, seemed to cost less than about three times the +price of one of my best dinners.</p> + +<p>But at the next table sat a London editor. I was free to contemplate him. +Was not that feast enough for such as I? Evidently I thought it was, for I told +the waiter with an elaborate assumption of boredom that I did not feel like +eating much, but would see what I could make of a little of the soup St. +Germain. I wondered often if the man noticed the remarkable manner in which the +crisp French rolls on that table disappeared, while I toyed languidly with my +soup. I did not dare to ask for more rolls when I had made an end of the four +or five that were on the table; but I could have eaten a dozen of them without +much difficulty.</p> + +<p>'No, thank you, I think I shall be better without anything to-day,' I said +to the waiter who drew my attention to a sumptuous volume which I had already +discovered to be the wine-list. There was a delicate suggestion in my tone (I +hoped) that occasional abstinence from wine, say, at luncheon had been found +beneficial for my gout. Certainly, if he counted his rolls, the man could +hardly have suspected me of a diabetic tendency.</p> + +<p>All this time I studied the profile of the editor, while he leisurely +discussed, perhaps, half a sovereign's worth of luncheon. I hoped--and again +feared--he might presently recognise me; but he only looked blandly through me +once or twice to more important objects beyond. And just as I had concluded +that it was not humanly possible to spend any longer over one spoonful of +practically cold soup, he rose, gracefully disguised a yawn, and strolled away +to an Elysian hall in which, no doubt, liqueurs, coffee, and cigars of great +price were dispensed. This was not for me, of course.</p> + +<p>They managed somehow to make my bill half a crown, and, as a trifling mark +of my esteem, I gave the waiter the price of two of my ordinary dinners, for +himself. I badly wanted to give him sixpence, but lacked the requisite moral +courage, though I do not suppose he would have wasted a thought upon it either +way, and if he had--but, as I say, I gave him a shilling. After all I do not +suppose the poor fellow earned much more in a day than I earned in a week. And +then (still with prudent thought for my gouty tendency, no doubt) I loftily +waved aside all suggestions of coffee in the lounge, and made my way to the +street, with the air of one who found luncheon a rather annoying interruption +in his management of great affairs.</p> + +<p>'Now if you had as much enterprise and resourcefulness as--as a bandicoot,' +I told myself, passing down the Thames Embankment, 'you would have entered into +conversation with A----, and by this time he would be pressing you to write +articles for him. Instead of that, you'll have to content yourself with dry +bread to-night and to-morrow, my friend.'</p> + +<p>But I did not altogether regret that bread and soup luncheon, after all. It +was an adventure of sorts, and quite a streak of colour in its way, across the +drab background of South Tottenham days.</p> + +<p>There were times when the spirit of revolt filled my very soul, and all life +seemed black or red in my eyes. But I do not recall any day of panic or +suggested surrender. On one day of revolt, when I told myself that this slum +life in London was too horrible for a self-respecting dingo, let alone a man, I +buttoned up my coat and walked with angry haste all the way to Epping Forest. +In that noble breathing-place I raged to and fro under trees and through scrub, +delighting in the prickly caress of brambles, and pausing in breathless ecstasy +to watch rabbits at play in a dim, leafy glade. Fully twelve miles I must have +walked, and then, healed and tamed, but somewhat faint from unwonted exercise +and wonted lack of good food, I sat down in a little arbour and wolfishly +devoured just as much as I could get in the form of a ninepenny tea. I fear +there can have been no margin of profit for the good woman who served me.</p> + +<p>At that period my digestive faculties still were holding up miraculously, or +my sufferings on the homeward tramp would have been acute. As a fact I reached +home in rare spirits, and almost--so cheery was I--cancelled the notice I had +given that morning of my intention to vacate the current garret. But the smell +of the house smiting my forest freshness as I stepped over the boards, jammed +in its threshold to keep crawling children in, saved me from that indiscretion. +There were fewer drunkards, less fighting, and not many more insects in that +house than in most of my places of residence; but the smell of it I shall +never, never forget. In that respect it was the vilest in a vile series of slum +dwellings, and many and many a time had caused me to revile my naturally keen +olfactory organs. I had endured it for almost a month, and would suffer its +unmanning horrors no more. Indeed, I would suffer nothing like it again. Why +should I? My earnings were increasing. I would escape from the whole district, +its miseries, its smells, its infamies, and its thousand dehumanising +degradations. I would emigrate.</p> + +<p>Yes, that tramp in Epping Forest was quite epoch-making. It came after more +than two years of struggle in London. I had made fully five pounds in the past +month. I had actually laid aside a couple of sovereigns, and doubtless that +salient fact emboldened me. Also, I had had a number of quite meaty meals of +late. But the wild stamping to and fro under trees, the sight of the bonny, +white-sterned rabbits at play, the copious tea in a pleached arbour, the clean +forest air--these I am sure had been as a fiery stimulant to my drooping +manhood. I went to bed full of the most reckless resolves, and astonishingly +light-hearted.</p> + +<p>In the morning, having feasted (as well as the prevailing smell permitted) +upon an apple, brown bread, and tea--butter was 'off' that day, I remember--I +set forth upon a prospecting tour, working westward from my north-easterly +abode, through Holloway, Finsbury, the Camden Road, and such places, into the +neighbourhood of Regent's Park. The park, which was strange to me, pleased me +greatly; as did also certain minor streets in its neighbourhood, a mews which I +found quaint and quite rural in its suggestions, and sundry white houses with +green shutters which, for some reason, I remember I called 'discreet.' There +was nothing here that looked poor enough for me, but none the less I inquired +at one or two of the smaller houses whose windows held cards indicating that +rooms were to let in them.</p> + +<p>At length, in a quiet and decent thoroughfare called Howard Street, I +happened upon Mrs. Pelly's house--No. 37. The girl who answered my knock had a +pleasant little face, and a soft, kindly tone in speaking. I supposed she was +not more than one-and-twenty, perhaps less. Her mother was out, she said, but +she would show me the only vacant room they had. Indeed--with a little +smile--she really did more for the lodgers than her mother did.</p> + +<p>The room was at the back of the house on the first floor, and there was but +one other floor above it. It had a French window, with a tiny iron balcony, +three feet by eighteen inches. The furnishings were greatly superior to any I +had had in London. There was actually a little writing-table with drawers, and +from the window one could see distinctly the waving green tops of trees in the +park. The rent was eleven shillings. Whereat I sighed heavily. But the +writing-table, and, above all, the actual view of tree-tops in the distance! I +sighed again, and explained regretfully that I feared my limit was eight +shillings. Then the young woman sighed too, and mentioned, with apparent +irrelevance, that her mother might be in any moment now.</p> + +<p>I had earned five pounds in the previous month. With reasonable care my food +need not cost more than seven to ten shillings a week. Of course I had managed +on considerably less. I knew very well that that sort of semi-starvation was in +every way bad; but, when I thought of that quiet back room, the distant +tree-tops, the absence of smells, the fact that I had seen no filthy or drunken +people in the neighbourhood, the soft-spoken girl at my side-- 'By heavens! +It's worth it,' I said to myself.</p> + +<p>And just then--we were in the narrow ground floor passage--the mother +arrived, bringing with her an unmistakable whiff of a public-house bar. This +stiffened my relaxing prudence considerably. I had no kindly feeling left for +taverns, especially where women were concerned. But, by an odd chance, it +happened that Mrs. Pelly was not only in a talkative mood, but also in higher +spirits than I ever saw her afterwards. She insisted on reinspection of the +room, a sufficiently dangerous thing in itself for me. And then, standing +beside its open window, with arms folded over the place in which her waist once +had been, she avowed that she thought the room would suit me, and that I should +suit the room.</p> + +<p>'There's a writing-table in it, an' all, ye see,' she said, having received +a hint as to my working habits.</p> + +<p>There was indeed. I was little likely to forget it. It now seemed the charge +for the room was eleven shillings weekly, without 'attendance.' But Mrs. Pelly +had never been a woman to stick out over trifles, that she hadn't; and, right +or wrong, though she hoped she might never live to rue the day, she would let +the gentleman this room for nine shillings a week, and include 'attendance' in +that merely nominal rate-- 'So there, Miss!' This, to her daughter Fanny, and +in apparent forgetfulness of my presence.</p> + +<p>It was a thrilling moment for me, standing there with one hand on the +writing-table, my gaze fixed over the scantily covered top of Mrs. Pelly's +head--she wore no hat--upon the trees in the distance. Prudence gabbled at me: +'You can't afford it. You must eat. You'll be sold up, and serve you right.' +But, of course, the table and the window won. After all, had I not earned five +pounds in the past month? And, excepting boots, my outfit was still pretty +good!</p> + +<p>I could not wait for Monday. The window and the table pulled too hard. So I +installed myself at No. 37 on the Saturday afternoon, and thanked God sincerely +that I was no longer in a slum.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>On fine mornings I used to leave door and window blocked open in my room, +and take half an hour's walk in the park before breakfast. The weather was +sometimes unkind, of course, but Fanny never, and she would neglect the rooms +of other lodgers in order to hasten the straightening of mine. The other +lodgers were all folk whose business took them away from Howard Street as soon +as breakfast was dispatched, and kept them away till evening.</p> + +<p>It often happened that I would work at my little writing-table until the +small hours of the morning; and in such cases, more often than not, I would +leave the house directly after breakfast, walk down Tottenham Court Road, and +tack through Bloomsbury to Gray's Inn and Fleet Street, or wherever else the +office might lie for which the manuscript I carried was destined. Where +possible, I preferred this method of disposing of manuscripts. Not only did it +save stamps--a considerable item with me--but it seemed quicker and safer than +the post. I had a dishonest little formula for porters and bell boys in these +offices, from the enunciation of which I derived a comforting sense of security +and dispatch.</p> + +<p>'You might let the editor have this directly he comes in,' I would say as I +handed over my envelope; 'promised for to-day, without fail.'</p> + +<p>Well, I had promised--myself. And this little formula, in addition to making +for prompt delivery, I thought, gave one a sense of actual relationship with +the editor. Save for the trifling fact that the manuscript would, probably, in +due course be returned, or even consigned to the waste-paper basket, my method +seemed to put me on the footing of one who had written a commissioned article. +The dramatic value of the formula was greatly enhanced where one happened to +know the editor's name, and could say in a tone of urgent intimacy: 'You might +let Mr. ---- have this directly he comes in,' etc. In those cases one walked +down the office stairway humming an air. It was next door to being one of the +Olympians, and that without sacrificing one's romantic liberty as a +free-lance.</p> + +<p>As my earnings rose--and they did rise with agreeable rapidity after my +establishment in Howard Street--I wrote less and thought more. I also walked +more, and saw more of London, But I was still writing a great deal; more +probably than any salaried journalist in the town, though a large proportion of +my writings never saw the light of print. When I had been living for five or +six months in Howard Street, my earnings were averaging from ten pounds to +fifteen pounds each month. For a long time I seemed able to maintain something +like this average, but not to improve upon it. It may be that my efforts +slackened at that point, and that I gave more time to reading and walking. This +is the more likely, because I know I felt no interest whatever in the progress +of the account I opened in the Post Office savings bank.</p> + +<p>It was about this time, I fancy, though only in my twenty-fourth or +twenty-fifth year, that I began seeking advice from chemists and their +assistants, under whose guidance I tapped the fascinating but deadly field of +patent medicines. The fact was I had completely disorganised my digestive +system during two years and more of catering for myself upon an average outlay +of six or seven shillings weekly (sometimes much less, of course), whilst +living an insanely sedentary life in which the allowance of sleep, exercise, +and fresh air had been as inadequate as my dietary. A wise physician might +possibly have been able to steer me into smooth waters now, especially if he +had driven me out of London. But the obstinate energy and conceit of youth was +still strong in my veins. I had no money to waste on doctors, I told myself. +And so I held desultory consultations across the counters of chemist's shops, +and, supremely ignorant as to causes, attacked symptoms with trustful energy, +consuming great quantities of mostly valueless and frequently harmful +nostrums.</p> + +<p>Another step I took at this time, after quaintly earnest discussion with +Fanny, was to arrange an additional payment of eight shillings a week to Mrs. +Pelly, in return for the provision of my very simple breakfast and a bread and +cheese luncheon each day. This relieved me of a task for which I had never had +much patience, and very likely it was also an economy. My evening meal I +preferred, as a general thing, to obtain elsewhere. It was one of my few +entertainments this foraging after inexpensive dinners, and watching and +listening to other diners. At that time my prejudices were the exact antithesis +of those that came later on, and I preferred foreign restaurants and foreign +service and cooking, quite apart from the fact that I found them nearly always +cheaper and more entertaining than the native varieties.</p> + +<p>It was in a dingy little French eating-house near Wardour Street (where I +must say the cooking at that time really was skilful, though I dare say the +material used was villainously bad, since the prices charged were low, even +judged by my scale in such matters) that I first made the acquaintance of +Sidney Heron. I felt sure that Heron must be a remarkable man, even before I +spoke to him, or heard him speak, for he lived with a monocle fixed in his +right eye, and never moved it, even when he blew his nose and gesticulated +violently, as he so often did. The monocle was attached to a broad black ribbon +which, in some way, seemed grotesque as contrasted with the dingy greyish-white +flannel cricketing shirts which Heron always wore, with a red tie under the +collar. Linen in any guise he clearly scorned. I do not think his boots were +ever cleaned, and he appeared to spend even less upon clothing than I did. I do +not know just how he disposed of his money, but he earned two hundred or three +hundred a year as a writer, and he was invariably short of funds. I think it +quite conceivable that he may have maintained some poor relation or relations, +but in all the years of our acquaintance I never heard him mention a relative. +He certainly lived poorly himself.</p> + +<p>Our acquaintance resulted from his tipping a rum omelette into my lap. The +tables at this little restaurant were exceptionally narrow, and I suppose Heron +was exceptionally cross, even for him. The omelette was burnt, he said, and +after pishing and tushing over it for a moment or two he shouted to the +overworked waiter, giving his plate so angry a thrust at the same time that it +collided violently with mine, and the offending omelette ricochetted into my +lap.</p> + +<p>Heron's apologies indicated far more of anger than contrition, I thought; +but they led to conversation, at all events, and as he lived in the Hampstead +Road we walked a mile or more together after leaving the restaurant. It was the +beginning of companionship of a sort for me, and if we did not ever become very +close friends, at all events our intimacy endured without rupture for many +years.</p> + +<p>At the outset I was given an inkling of the irascibility of his temper, and +my subsequent method, in all our intercourse, was simply to leave him whenever +he became quarrelsome, and to take up our relations when next we met at the +point immediately preceding that at which temper had overcome him. At heart an +honourable and I am sure kindly man, Heron had a temper of remarkable +susceptibility to irritation. The stomachic causes which, as time went on, +produced melancholy and dense, black depression in me, probably accounted for +his eruptions of violent irascibility. And I fancy we were equally ignorant and +brutal in our treatment of our own physical weaknesses.</p> + +<p>Heron certainly became one of my distractions, one of my human interests +outside work, at this time. But there was another, and the other came closer +home to me.</p> + +<p>I suppose I spent seven or eight months in discovering that Mrs. Pelly was a +singularly unpleasant woman. But the thing did eventually become plain to me, +so plain indeed that it would have caused me to give up my French window and +writing-table and migrate once more, but for certain considerations outside my +own personal comfort. That Mrs. Pelly consumed far more gin than was good for +her became apparent to me during my first week, if not my first day, in Howard +Street. But as she rarely entered my room, and our encounters were merely +accidental and momentary, this weakness would never have affected me much.</p> + +<p>What did affect me was my very gradual discovery of the fact that this woman +treated her own daughter with systematic cruelty--a thing happily unusual in +her class, as it is also, I think, among the very poor of London. At the end of +eight or nine months my increasing knowledge of Mrs. Pelly's harsh unkindness +to Fanny had begun to weigh on my mind a good deal. It was a singular case, in +many ways. Here was a girl, a young woman rather, in her twenty-first year, who +to all intents and purposes might be said to be carrying on with her own hands +the entire work of a house which sheltered five lodgers; and, as a fact, it was +rarely that a day passed without her suffering actual physical violence at the +hands of that gin-soaked termagant, her mother.</p> + +<p>The woman positively used to pinch Fanny in such a way as to leave blue +bruises on her arm. She used to pull her hair violently, slap her face, and +strike at her with any sort of weapon that happened to be within reach. +Further, when the vicious fit took her, she would lock up pantry and kitchen, +and make this hard-working girl go hungry to bed at night, by way of punishment +for some pretended misdeed. And the astounding thing was that, with all this +and more, Fanny retained a very real affection for her unnatural parent; and +used to plead that, but for the effect of liquor upon her, Mrs. Pelly would be +and was a good mother.</p> + +<p>It appeared that Fanny had lost her father when she was about twelve years +old, and ever since that time her mother's extraordinary attitude towards her +had become increasingly harsh and cruel. She never had a penny of her own, +though she did the work of two servants, and her clothes were mostly home-made +make-shifts from discarded garments of her mother's. When necessity caused her +to ask for new boots, for example, the penalty would be perhaps a week of vile +abuse and bullying, of slaps, pinches, docked meals and other humiliations, all +of which must be endured before the wretched woman would buy a pair of the +cheapest and ugliest shoes obtainable, and fling them to her daughter from out +her market-basket. If they were a misfit, Fanny would have to suffer them as +best she could. Or, in other cases, new shoes would be refused altogether, and +she would be ordered to make shift with a pair her mother had worn out.</p> + +<p>It was only very gradually that I came to know these things. Once, when I +knew no more than that Fanny worked very hard and seldom stirred out of the +house, I chanced to encounter mother and daughter together on the stairs early +on a Sunday evening. The girl looked pinched and unhappy, and something moved +me to make a suggestion I should hardly have ventured upon then, if the mother +had not happened to be present.</p> + +<p>'You look tired, Fanny,' I said. 'Why not come out for a walk in the park +with me? The air would do you good, and perhaps you will have a bit of dinner +somewhere with me before getting back. Do! It would be quite a charity to a +lonely man.'</p> + +<p>I saw her tired brown eyes brighten at the thought, and then she turned +timidly in Mrs. Pelly's direction.</p> + +<p>'Oh!' said I, on a rather happy inspiration, 'I believe you're one of the +vain people who fancy they are indispensable. I am sure Mrs. Pelly would be +delighted for you to come; wouldn't you, Mrs. Pelly? There will be no lodgers +home till late this fine evening.'</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pelly simpered at me, with a rather forbidding light in her eye, I +thought. But I had struck the right note in that word 'indispensable.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, she's very welcome to go, for me, Mr. Freydon; and I'm sure it's very +kind of you to ask her. Girls nowadays don't do so much when they are at work +but what it's easy enough to spare 'em. But, haven't you got a tongue, miss? +Why don't you thank Mr. Freydon?'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed,' I laughed. 'The thanks are coming from me. I'll just go back +to my room and write a letter, and you will let me know as soon as you're +ready, won't you, Fanny?'</p> + +<p>Well, I can honestly say that I thoroughly enjoyed that little outing. I +thought there never had been any one who was so easily pleased and entertained. +Doubtless her worshipful attitude flattered my youthful vanity. But, apart from +this, it was a real delight to see the flush of enjoyment come and go in her +pale, pretty face, when we rode on the top of an omnibus, examined flowers in +the park, and sat down to a meal with the preparation and removal of which she +was to have no concern whatever. It was a pretty and touching sight, I say, to +see how these very simple pleasures delighted her. But I very soon learned that +this experience must not be repeated. Indeed, it was in this wise that I +obtained my first inklings of the real wretchedness of Fanny's life. She had to +suffer constant humiliations for a week or more, as the price of the little +jaunt she had with me. Her mother found it hard to forget or forgive the fact +that her daughter had had an hour or two of freedom and enjoyment. Realisation +of this made me detest the woman.</p> + +<p>And then, it may have been three months after this little outing, there came +another Sunday incident that moved me. I returned to my room unexpectedly about +six o'clock, having forgotten to take out with me a certain paper. The house +was very silent, and perhaps that made me walk more softly than usual up the +stairs. As I opened my door the warm, yellow light of the setting sun was +slanting across my writing-table, and in the chair before it sat Fanny, reading +a magazine.</p> + +<p>My first thought was of irritation. I did not like to see any one sitting at +my writing-table. I was touchy regarding that one spot--the table, my papers, +and so forth. In the same instant irritation gave place to some quite other +feeling, as the sunlight showed me that tears were rolling down Fanny's pale +face.</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet in great confusion, murmuring almost passionate +apologies in her habitually soft, small voice.</p> + +<p>'Oh, please forgive me, Mr. Freydon! I know it was a liberty. Please do +forgive me. I will never do it again. Please say you will overlook it, and--and +not tell my mother.'</p> + +<p>She unmistakably shrank, trembling, almost cowering before me, so that I was +made to feel a dreadful brute.</p> + +<p>'My dear Fanny,' I said, touching her arm with my fingers, 'there's nothing +to forgive. How absurd! I hope you will always sit there whenever you like. As +though I should mind! But what were you reading?'</p> + +<p>The question had no point for me, and was designed merely to relieve the +tension.</p> + +<p>'Oh, your story, Mr. Freydon. It's--it's too beautiful. That was what made +me forget where I was, and sit on here. I just glanced at it--like; and +then--and I couldn't leave it. Oh!'</p> + +<p>And she drew up her apron and dabbed her eyes. I don't believe the poor soul +possessed a handkerchief. Here was a pretty pass then! I had forgotten for the +moment that one of the three magazines on the table contained a short story of +which, upon its appearance, I had been inordinately proud. I was young, and no +one else flattered me. Literally nobody had shared my gratification in the +publication of this story. Here was somebody from whom it drew indubitable +tears; some one who was deeply moved by its beauty....</p> + +<p>I patted her shoulder. I drew confidences from her regarding the +wretchedness of her home life. I laid down emphatic instructions that she was +to regard my room as her sanctuary; to use it whenever and howsoever she might +choose, irrespective of my presence or absence. I bade her make free with my +few books--as though the poor soul had abundance of leisure--comforted her to +the best of my ability; and-- Yes, let me evade nothing. I stroked her hair, +and in leaving her, with reiterated instructions to remain there and rest, I +touched her cool white cheek with my lips, and was strangely thrilled by the +touch.</p> + +<p>A warm wave of what I thought pity and sympathy passed over me as I walked +from her.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>It is rather a matter of regret with me now that I never kept a diary. Mine +has been upon the whole a somewhat lonely life, and lonely men often do keep +diaries. But, in my case, I suppose writing was too much the daily business of +life to permit of leisure being given to the same task.</p> + +<p>However, the dates of certain volumes of short stories, which appeared long +ago with my name upon their covers, are for me evidence that, after the first +six months of my stay in Howard Street, my work began to tend more and more +towards fiction, and away from newspaper articles. My dealings at this time +brought me more closely into touch with magazines than with newspapers. I +became more concerned with human emotions and character, but especially with +emotions, than with those more abstract or again more matter-of-fact themes +which had served me in the writing of newspaper articles.</p> + +<p>This may have helped me in some ways, since it meant that my name was fairly +frequently seen in print now. But the point I have in mind is, that I take this +tendency in my work to have been an indication of the particular phase of +character development through which I was passing at the time. It was at this +period that I indulged myself in occasional dreams of fame. I do not know that +my conceit made me offensive in any way. I hardly think it went so far. But, in +my inmost heart, I believe I judged myself to be a creative artist of note. I +certainly had a lively imagination, a good deal of fluency--too much, +indeed--as a writer, and a considerable amount of emotional capacity and +sympathy.</p> + +<p>Later in life I often wondered, not without depression, why I no longer +seemed able to move people, to influence them in a given direction, or to +arouse their enthusiasm, with the same facility which I had known in my +twenties. I see now the reasons of this. My emotional capacity spent itself +rapidly in writing and living; and with its exhaustion (and the development of +my critical faculties) came an attenuation, a drying up, so to say, of the +quality of facile emotional sympathy, which in earlier years had made it easy +for me to attract, prepossess, or influence people at will.</p> + +<p>Given some practical organising qualities which I certainly did not possess, +I apprehend that at this period I might have engineered myself into a +considerable vogue of popularity as a writer of fiction. A little later I might +almost have slid into the same position, even in the absence of the practical +qualities aforesaid, but for the trend of circumstances which then became +highly antagonistic to that sort of development.</p> + +<p>But I note with some interest that the stories I took to writing at this +period were highly emotional in tone, and somewhat exotic in their setting. The +exotic settings may have been due in part to the fact that I had travelled, and +yet more I fancy to revulsion from the material background of my early life in +London. And the emotionalism must be attributed, I apprehend, in part to my age +and temperament, and in part to my comparative solitude.</p> + +<p>I find it extremely difficult justly to appraise or analyse my relations +with Fanny. In one mood I see merely youth, folly, vanity, and romantic +emotionalism, directing my conduct; and again I fancy I discern some loftier +motive, such as sincerely chivalrous generosity, humanity, unselfish desire to +help and uplift, etc. Doubtless, in this as in most matters, a variety of +motives and influences played their part in shaping one's conduct. Single and +entirely unmixed motives are much more rare than most people believe, I fancy. +Pride and vanity have a way of dogging generosity's footsteps very closely; +steadfast endurance and selfish obstinacy are nearly related; and I dare say +real kindness of heart often has a place where we most of us see only reckless +self-indulgence.</p> + +<p>I remember very well a cold, clear moonlight night in the Hampstead Road, +when reaction from solitary reflection made me unbosom myself a good deal to +Sidney Heron, in the form of seeking his advice. On previous occasions I had +told him something of Fanny and her dismal position, and he had seen her once +or twice at my lodging.</p> + +<p>'H'm! Yes. Precisely. So I inferred.'</p> + +<p>It was with such ejaculations, rather sardonic in tone, I thought, that he +listened to me as we walked.</p> + +<p>'Well, what shall I do?' I said at length as we reached his gate.</p> + +<p>'What will you do?' he echoed. 'Well, my friend, since you are an inspired +ass, and a confirmed sentimentalist, I imagine you----'</p> + +<p>'What would you advise in the circumstances, I mean?' I interpolated +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>'My advice. Oh, that's another matter altogether, and of absolutely no +value.'</p> + +<p>'But, on the contrary, you are older than I.'</p> + +<p>'I am indeed--centuries.'</p> + +<p>'And your advice should be very helpful to me.'</p> + +<p>'So it should. But it won't be, because you won't follow it.'</p> + +<p>'How can you know that?'</p> + +<p>'From my knowledge of human nature, sir; and, in particular, my observation +of your sub-species.'</p> + +<p>'Try me, anyhow.'</p> + +<p>'Very well. Change your lodging to-morrow, and never set foot in Howard +Street again. There's my advice, and it's the best you'll ever get--and the +last you'd ever think of following. Give me a cigarette if you want to continue +this perfectly useless conversation.'</p> + +<p>'But, my dear Heron, I'm anxious to do the wisest thing----'</p> + +<p>'Not you!'</p> + +<p>'But consider the plight of that poor girl.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, come! This opens new ground. I thought I was engaged to advise you.'</p> + +<p>'Certainly. But in relation to--to what we've been talking about.'</p> + +<p>'H'm! In relation, you mean, to Fanny Pelly? Phoebus, what a name! I wonder +if you know what you mean, Freydon! Let's assume you mean having equal regard +to your own interests and those of your gin-drinking landlady's daughter. +Hey?'</p> + +<p>'Well, yes. Always remembering, of course, that I am only a man, and +she----'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Lord! Excuse me. Yes; you are only a man, as you so truly say; and she +is--your landlady's daughter. Well, well, upon the whole, and giving her +interests a fair show, I think my advice would be precisely the same--clear out +to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>'And what about her future?'</p> + +<p>'My dear man, am I a reasoning human being, or a novelette-reading +jelly-fish? Did I not say that having regard to the interests of both, that is +my advice? Kindly credit me with the modicum of intelligence required for +adequate consideration of both sides. It isn't an international complication, +you know; neither is it a situation entirely without precedent in history. But, +mind you, I'm perfectly well aware that no advice, however good, is ever of any +practical use; least of all in circumstances of this order. It does, I believe, +occasionally impel its victim in the direction opposite to the one indicated. +Yes, and especially in such cases. Well, my friend, upon reconsideration then, +my advice is that first thing to-morrow morning you proceed to Doctors' +Commons, wherever and whatever that may be, procure a special licence, and many +the girl. Only--don't you dare to ask me to have anything to do with it.'</p> + +<p>The suggestion has a fantastic look, but I am more than half inclined to +think Heron's final piece of advice did have its bearing upon my subsequent +actions. For it started a train of thought in my mind regarding marriage. It +gave a practical shape to mere vague imaginings. It set me looking into +details. For example, I distinctly remember murmuring to myself as I turned the +corner of Heron's street:</p> + +<p>'Yes, after all, I suppose getting married is quite a simple job, really. +There are registrar's offices, aren't there? I suppose it's pretty well as +simple, really, as getting a new coat.'</p> + +<p>How Heron would have grinned if he had been able to follow this +soliloquy!</p> + +<p>Fanny was on her knees before my hearth when I reached my room. The lamp +burned clear and soft beside my blotting-pad. The fire glowed cheerily, and +Fanny had just swept the hearth, so that no speck showed upon it. And my +slippers were in the fender. Less than a year earlier my homecomings had been +singularly different; a dark, cold room in a malodorous house, with very +possibly a drunken couple brawling on the landing outside.</p> + +<p>But there were tears in Fanny's eyes. The mother was in one of her vicious +tempers, it seemed, and had gone to bed in her basement room with the keys of +larder and kitchen, and a bottle of gin. The daughter's last meal had been +whatever she could get for midday dinner. And it was now nine o'clock in the +evening.</p> + +<p>'Just you wait there. Don't stir from where you arc. I'll be back in three +minutes,' I told her.</p> + +<p>There was a ham and beef shop at the junction of Howard and Albany Street. +Thither I hastened. Leaving this convenient repository of ready-cooked +comestibles, I bethought me of the question of something to drink. I was bent +on doing this thing well, according to my lights. Presently I reached my room +again, armed with pressed beef, cold chicken, bread, butter, mustard, salt, +plates, cutlery, a segment of vividly yellow cake, and, crowning triumph, a +half bottle of Macon.</p> + +<p>The Dickensian tradition rather suggests that the ripe experience of a +middle-aged <em>bon vivant</em> is desirable in the host at such occasions. +Well, in that master's time youth may have lasted longer in life than it does +with us. My own notion is that mine was the ideal age for such a part. I think +of that little supper--Fanny's tremulous sips of Burgundy from my wash-stand +tumbler, the warm flush in her pale cheeks, and the sparkle in her brown +eyes--as crystallising a good deal of the phase in which I was living just +then. I am quite sure I did it well, very well.</p> + +<p>In buying those viands I knew I should keenly enjoy our little supper. I +pictured very clearly how delightful it would all seem to poor Fanny; her +flushed enjoyment; just what a rare treat the whole episode would be for her. I +knew how pleasantly that spectacle would thrill me. I thought too, in a way, +what a devilish romantic chap I was, rushing out at night to purchase +supper--and Burgundy; that was important; claret would not have served--for a +forlorn and unhappy girl, who, but for my resourcefulness, would have gone +starving to bed. How oddly mixed the motives! The Burgundy, now; I believed it +a more generous and feeding wine than any other. Also, for some reason, it was +for me a more romantic wine; more closely associated with, say, the Three +Musketeers and with Burgundian Denys, comrade of Reade's Gerard.</p> + +<p>I quite genuinely wanted to help Fanny, to do her good, to brighten her dull +life. The contemplation of her pleasure gave me what some would call the most +unselfish delight. Withal, as I say, how oddly various are one's motive +springs, especially in youth! And, in some respects, what a blind young fool I +was! That wine, now.... Who knows? ... I took but a sip or two, for ceremony's +sake, and insisted on fragile Fanny finishing the half bottle. And I kissed her +lips, not her cheek, as I held the lamp high to light her on her way to the +garret where she slept.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>* * * * *</p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I have not the smallest desire to make excuses for such foolishness as I +displayed, at this or any other period. But I think it just to remind myself +that there are worse things than foolishness, and that my relations with Fanny +might conceivably have formed a darker page for me to look back upon than they +actually did form. We both were young, both lonely; neither of us had found +much tenderness in life, and I--I was passing through an extremely emotional +phase of life, as my work of that period clearly shows.</p> + +<p>Within a month of that evening of the supper in my room, Fanny and I were +married in a registrar's office in St. Pancras, and set up housekeeping in one +tiny bedroom and a sitting-room in Camden Town. I had convinced Fanny that this +was the only way out of her troubles, and goodness knows I believed it. Heron +refused point blank to witness the ceremony, such as it was; but he shared our +table at his favourite little French restaurant that evening, and even +consented to prolong the festive occasion by spending a further hour with us in +our new quarters.</p> + +<p>I think Fanny was pretty much preoccupied in wondering what her mother would +make of the joint note we had left for her. (I had removed all my belongings +from No. 37 several days before.) But I thought she made a pretty little figure +as a bride--gentle, clinging, tender, and no more than agreeably shy. And +Heron, what a revelation to me his manner was! Throughout the evening there +appeared not one faintest hint of his habitual acidulated brusqueness. Not one +sharp word did he speak that night, and his manner toward my wife was the +perfection of gentle and considerate courtesy. I was dumbfounded and deeply +moved by his really startling behaviour. He was so incredibly gentle. His +parting words, such words as I had never thought to hear upon his lips, +were:</p> + +<p>'Heaven bless you both!' And then, as I could have sworn, with moisture in +his eyes, he added: 'You are both good souls, and--after all, some are +happy!'</p> + +<p>For so convinced and angry a cynic and pessimist, his behaviour had been +remarkable. When I returned to Fanny she was admiring her pretty, new, +dove-coloured frock in the fly-blown mirror of our sitting-room. Poor child, +her experience of new frocks had not been extensive.</p> + +<p>'He's a real gentleman, is Mr. Heron,' she said with a little welcoming +smile to me. I liked the smile; but, almost for the first time I think, on that +day at all events, her words jarred on me a little. But what jarred more +perhaps was the fact that these words, so apparently innocent and harmless, +sent a vagrant thought through my mind that filled me with harsh self-contempt. +The thought will doubtless appear even more paltry than it was if put into +words, but it was something to the effect that-- Of course, Heron was a +gentleman! Why else would he be a friend of mine?</p> + +<p>Perhaps the thought was hardly so absurd as my solemn self-contempt over it! + ...</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I have sometimes thought that, in its early days at all events, and before +the more serious trouble arose, our married life might have been a little +brighter if we had quarrelled occasionally. It would perhaps have shown a more +agreeable disposition in me. But we did not quarrel. I felt, and probably +showed, displeasure and dissatisfaction; and Fanny-- But how shall I presume to +tell what Fanny felt? She showed occasional tears, and what I grew to think +rather frequent sulks and peevishness.</p> + +<p>Our first difficulties began within a day or two of our marriage. Chief +among them I would place what I regarded as my wife's altogether unaccountable +and quite unreasonable determination to keep up relations with her mother. I +thought I was unfairly treated here, and I made no allowance for filial +feelings, or the influence of Fanny's life-long tutelage. I only saw that she +had very gladly allowed me to rescue her from the tyranny of a spiteful, +gin-drinking, old woman; and that, within forty-eight hours, she was for +visiting her mother as a regular thing, and even proposed that I should join +her in this.</p> + +<p>That was one of the early difficulties; and another, more distressing in its +way, was my discovery of the fact that it was apparently impossible for me to +think consecutively, or to write when I had thought, in a room which was my +wife's living place. It was strange that I should never have given a thought +before marriage to a practical point so intimately touching my peace of mind +and means of livelihood.</p> + +<p>At present it did not seem to me that I could possibly afford to rent +another room. I certainly was not prepared to banish Fanny to our tiny bedroom, +separated from the other room by folding doors. She had no notion as yet that +her presence or doings constituted any sort of interruption in my work. The +change from carrying on the whole work of a lodging-house to living in lodgings +with practically no domestic work to do was one which, in my foolish ignorance, +I had thought would prove immensely beneficial to overworked Fanny. As a fact I +think it bored her terribly after the first week. She sometimes liked to read, +but never, I think, for more than half an hour at a stretch. She never wrote a +letter, and did not care for thinking.</p> + +<p>I have found very few people in any class of life who like to sit and think; +very few, even among educated people, who showed any sympathy or comprehension +in the matter of my own lifelong desire for leisure in which to think. To do +this or that, yes; but just to think! That seems to be a lamentable and most +boring kind of futility, as most folk see it. It has for many years figured as +the most desirable thing in life to me.</p> + +<p>Looking back upon my married life, I believe I may say with truth that for +two years I did not relax in my sincere efforts to make it a success. It would +be more exact perhaps to say that for one year I tried hard to make it a +success, and for another year I tried hard to make it tolerable. Yes, I did my +best through that period, though my efforts were quite unsuccessful. I realise +that this does not justify or excuse the fact that, to all intents and +purposes, I then gave up trying. In that, of course, I was to blame; very much +to blame. Well, I did not go unpunished.</p> + +<p>It would not be easy for a literary man who had never tried it to understand +what it means to live practically in one room (with a sleeping cubicle opening +out of it) with a woman. I suppose a woman would never forgive or see much +excuse for the man who makes a failure of married life. I wonder how it would +strike a literary woman if she tried life in these circumstances with an +unliterary man who, whilst clinging to leisure and having no inclination to +forfeit an hour of it in a day, yet was bored extremely from lack of occupation +and resource.</p> + +<p>The horrid intimacy of urban life for all poor and needy people must be very +wearing. Its lack of privacy is most distressing. But this becomes enormously +aggravated, of course, where the bread-winner must do his work within the walls +of the cramped home. And that aggravation of difficulties is multiplied tenfold +if the bread-winner's work must not only be done inside the home, but must also +be the product of sustained and concentrated thought; if it be work of that +sort which lends itself readily to interruption, in which a moment's break may +mean an hour's delay, and an hour's delay may mean for the worker a fit of hot +disgust in which his unfinished task finds its way into fireplace or +waste-paper basket.</p> + +<p>The year which I gave to trying to make a success of our married life +appears to me in the retrospect as a monotonous series of abortive honeymoons, +separated by interludes of terribly hard and unfruitful labour for me (more +exhausting than any long sustained working effort I ever made), throughout +which, out of respect for my praiseworthy resolutions as a would-be good +husband, my exacerbated temper was cloaked in a sort of waxy fixative, even as +some men discipline their moustaches. I see myself in these periods as a man +acutely tired, miserably conscious of the barren nature of his exhausting daily +toil, and wearing a horrible set smile of connubial amiability; the sort of +smile which, in time, produces a kind of facial cramp.</p> + +<p>My wife, poor little soul, was not, I think, burdened by any self-imposed +task touching the set of her lips. And it may be this was so much the worse for +her. In the absence of any recognised duty she knew of no distraction save her +visits to her mother, regarding which she felt a certain furtiveness to be +necessary, by reason of my ill-judged show of impatience in this matter, and my +refusal to open my own arms to the woman who, for years, had made Fanny's life +a burden to her.</p> + +<p>'Confound it!' I thought. 'My part was to release her from this harridan's +clutches, not to go round and mix tears and gin with the woman.'</p> + +<p>But I was wrong. I should have gone much farther, or not near so far. (How +often that has been my fault!) Either I should have prevented those visits, or +sterilised them by taking part in them.</p> + +<p>By the time that a spell of the set smile and the barren labours had brought +me near to breaking point, Fanny would be frequently tearful and desperately +peevish from her boredom, and from poor health; for I fancy she was in little +better case than I as regards the penalties of a faulty and inadequate dietary, +combined with long confinement within doors. These conditions would produce in +me a day or two (and a sleepless night or two) of black, dyspeptic melancholy, +and quite hopeless depression. Then, as like as not, I would try a long tramp, +probably in Epping Forest, and after that--another abortive honeymoon. In other +words, full of wise resolutions and determined hopefulness, I would apply the +fixative to my domestic circle smile and amiability, and make an entirely fresh +start, with a little jaunt of some kind as a send off.</p> + +<p>I fancy Fanny's faith in these foredoomed attempts remained permanently +unsullied. I know she used to resolve to discontinue the long gossipy +afternoons with her mother in Howard Street--in some mysterious way the mother +had lain aside all her old pretensions as a tyrannical autocrat, and they met +now, I gathered, as friendly gossips--and to become an ideal wife for a +literary man. She would even tell our landlady not to clean or tidy our rooms +any more, since she, Fanny, intended to do this in future. And she would do +it--for a week or so; just as I would keep up my sickening grin, and the +attempt to make myself believe that I really liked doing my work in public +libraries, reading-rooms, waiting-rooms, and other such inspiring places. Not +even on the first day of a new honeymoon could I force myself to fancy I liked +the attempt to work in our joint sitting-room. That affected me like a +neuralgia.</p> + +<p>The point, and perhaps the only point I can make in extenuation of my +admitted failure to conduct my married life to a successful issue, I have made +already; for one year I did, according to my poor lights, strive consistently +and hard for success. Throughout another year I did strive as hardly, and +almost equally consistently to make our joint life tolerable for us both. More +than that I cannot claim, and, in the light of all that happened, I feel that +this much is rather pitifully little.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>It may very well be that during the first years after my marriage some of +the chickens I had hatched out in the preceding years of slum life and +incessant scribbling came home to roost. In the case of my reckless sins +against hygiene and my digestion, I know they did. But also, I fancy, as +touching work, and its monetary reward; for my earnings increased somewhat, +while my work suffered deterioration, both in quality and quantity.</p> + +<p>If it had not chanced to reach me in the black fit which preceded one of my +make-believe new honeymoons, I should doubtless have been a good deal more +elated than I was by the letter I received from Mr. Sylvanus Creed, the +well-known connoisseur and arbiter of literary taste, who presided over the +fortunes of the publishing house that bore his name. This letter--written with +distinction and a quill pen upon beautifully embossed deckle-edged paper, which +seemed to me to have a subtle perfume about it--requested the pleasure of my +company at luncheon with the great Sylvanus; the place his favourite club--the +Court, in Piccadilly.</p> + +<p>He received me with beautiful urbanity, if a thought languidly. It was +clearly a point of honour with him to refer to nothing so prosaic as any kind +of work until he had plied me with the best which his luxurious club had to +offer; and I gladly record that our luncheon was by far the most ambitious meal +I had ever made, or even dreamed of, up to that day. And then, over the +delicate Havannahs and fragrant coffee and liqueurs--the enterprise of youth +was still mine in these matters, and in those days I accepted any such +delicacies as the gods sent my way with never a thought of question, or of +consequence--I was informed, with truly regal complaisance, that a certain +bundle of manuscript short stories of mine (which by this time had been the +round of quite a number of publishers' readers without making any perceptible +progress towards germination and print) had been chosen for the honour of +inclusion in the new <em>Fin de sičcle</em> Library of Fiction, which, as all +the world knows--or knew, at all events, during that season--represented the +last word, both in literary excellence and artistic publishing.</p> + +<p>I was perhaps less overpowered than I might, and no doubt ought to have +been, by reason of the fact that I had at least been shrewd enough to know in +advance that it was hardly for my bright eyes the famous publisher was +entertaining me. However, I assumed a decent amount of ecstasy, and was +genuinely glad of the prospect of seeing my first book handsomely published. +After a proper interval I ventured upon a delicate inquiry as to terms; +whereupon the deprecatory wave of Sylvanus Creed's white and jewelled hand made +me feel (or pretend to feel) a low fellow for my pains. I gathered that on our +return to the sumptuously appointed studio from which my host directed the +destinies of his publishing house, one of his secretaries of state would submit +to me a specimen of the regulation agreement for the publication of first +books.</p> + +<p>That airy mention of 'first books' caused a chill presentiment to pierce the +ambrosial fumes by which I was surrounded. The transaction was to bring me no +particular profit, I thought. Well, the luncheon had been superfine. The format +of Sylvanus Creed's books was indubitably pleasing to hand and eye. And, true +enough, it was a 'first book.' Money, after all--and particularly after such a +luncheon ...</p> + +<p>But I will say that in subsequently signing the daintily embossed agreement +(subtly perfumed, I thought, like the letter paper) I was blissfully ignorant +of the fact that it also gave Mr. Sylvanus Creed my second book, whatever that +might prove to be, upon the same exiguous terms. The fault was wholly mine, of +course. There was the agreement (in the most elegant sort of copper-plate +script) quite open for my perusal. I fancy, perhaps, the Court Club's liqueurs +were even more agreeably potent than its wines. I know it seemed absurdly +curmudgeonly that I should think of wading through the document, and while +Sylvanus's own fair hand held a pen waiting for me, too. And, indeed, I do not +in the least grudge that signature now.</p> + +<p>And thus, with every circumstance of artistic fitness and ease, I was +committed to authorship. The second floor back in Camden Town looked a shade +dingy after my publisher's sanctum; but I carried a couple of gift copies of +the <em>Fin de sičcle</em> books in my hand, and my own effusions were to form +the fifth volume of the series. With such news I clearly was justified in +bidding Sidney Heron take his dinner with us that night. Fanny rather cooled +about the great event, when its monetary insignificance was made partially +clear to her. But she enjoyed the little dinner with Heron; and, as a matter of +fact, we were doing rather well in the monetary way just then, though hardly +well enough to enable me to rent a third room for use as study.</p> + +<p>I found that sovereigns had somehow shrunken and lost much of their magic in +Fanny's hands with the passage of time. At the time of our marriage, I had been +agreeably surprised to learn that Fanny was a cleverer economist than I, with +all my grim learning in South Tottenham. The few pounds I was able to give her +on the eve of our marriage had been made to work miracles I thought. But lately +it had seemed a little different. Fanny had, of course, changed in many small +ways; and one result, as I gathered, was that our sovereigns had become less +powerful. Their purchasing power was notably reduced, it seemed. Fortunately, I +was earning more. But it was clear the increase in my earnings would not as yet +permit of any increase in our expenditure upon rent. Sometimes in the Cimmerian +intervals immediately preceding one of our fresh starts, my reflections upon +such a point were very bitter. There was no sort of doubt that the quality of +my work was suffering seriously from lack of a private workshop....</p> + +<p>On the day my second book was published--the first, while favourably +reviewed, had not precisely taken the world by storm; its successor was my +first novel--I had said that I should not get back to our rooms before about +seven o'clock, in time for the evening meal. A dizzy headache, combined with a +series of interruptions in the public reading-room where I had been at work, +brought me to Camden Town between four and five, determined to take a couple of +hours' rest, to sleep if possible on our bed. It happened that I met our +landlady on the steps of the house, and asked her casually if my wife had +returned yet. Fanny had said in the morning that she had promised to go and see +her mother that day. The landlady looked at me a little oddly, I thought. Her +reply was normal, and, characteristically enough, more wordy than informing:</p> + +<p>'Oh, I couldn't sye, Mr. Fr'ydon; I reely couldn't sye. I know Mrs. Fr'ydon +went art early this mornin', because she 'appened to speak to me in passin', +an' she said she was goin' to see 'er mother, "Oh, are yer?" I says. "An' I +'ope you'll find 'er well," I says.'</p> + +<p>I passed on indoors and upstairs, thinking dizzily about Cockney dialect--I +had the worst kind of dyspeptic headache--and feeling rather glad my wife was +away. 'An hour's sleep will set me right,' I muttered to myself as I entered +our tiny bedroom.</p> + +<p>But Fanny was lying on the bed, fully dressed, even to her hat, and with +muddy boots. She was maundering over to herself the silly words of some inane +song of the day. She was horribly flushed, and-- But let me make an end of it. +My wife was grossly and quite unmistakably drunk, and the stuffy little room +reeked of gin.</p> + +<p>As it happened I never had been drunk. It was not one of my weaknesses. But +if it had been, I dare say I should have been no whit the less horrified and +alarmed and disgusted by this lamentable spectacle of my wife--stupid, +maundering, helpless, and looking like ... But I need not labour the point.</p> + +<p>In a flash I recalled a host of tiny incidents. It was extraordinary how +recollection of the series rattled through my aching brain like bullets from a +machine gun.</p> + +<p>'This has been going on for some time,' I thought. And then, 'I suppose this +is hereditary.' And then, 'This comes of the visits to Howard Street.' And +then, curiously, recollection of those wedding night words of Heron's which had +so touched me: 'Heaven bless you! You are both good souls, and--after all, some +are happy!'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps some are,' I thought bitterly. 'I wonder how much chance there is +for us!'</p> + +<p>In just the same way that I think the beginning of our married life might +have been more agreeable, less strained, if we had had occasional quarrels, so +I dare say at this critical juncture, when I discovered that my wife had taken +to drinking gin, my right cue would have been that of open anger, or, at all +events, of very serious remonstrance. It is easy to be wise after the event. I +did not seem to be capable just then of talk or remonstrance. All I did +actually say was commonplace and unhelpful enough. I said as I remember very +well:</p> + +<p>'Good God, Fanny! I never thought to see you in this state.' And then--the +futility of it--I added, 'You'd better take your hat and boots off.'</p> + +<p>With that I walked into the sitting-room, closing the dividing door after +me, and subsided, utterly despondent, into the chair beside the empty grate. A +man could hardly have been more wretched; but after a minute or two I could not +help noticing, as something singular, the fact that my sick, dizzy headache had +disappeared. The pain had been horridly severe, or I should hardly have noticed +its cessation. But now, with my spirits at their lowest and blackest, my head +was clear again; not by a gradual recovery, but in one minute.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Fanny had spoken no word to me, and I wondered greatly at that. She had only +smiled and laughed in a foolish way. And a few minutes later I knew by her +breathing--even through the closed doors, so much was unmistakable--that she +slept.</p> + +<p>I may have sat there for an hour, nursing the bitterest kind of reflections. +Then I decided to go out, and found I had left my hat in the bedroom. Very +cautiously I opened one leaf of the folding doors, tip-toed into the small +room, and took my hat from the chair on which it lay. My gaze fell for one +instant across the recumbent figure of my wife, and was withdrawn sharply. I +went out with anger and revulsion in my heart, and walked rather quickly for an +hour, conscious of no relief from bitterness, no softening of my feelings.</p> + +<p>Then I happened to pass a familiar restaurant, and told myself I would have +some dinner. 'She must go her own way,' I muttered savagely.</p> + +<p>I entered the place, found a seat, and consulted the bill of fare. A +greasily smiling Italian came to take my order.</p> + +<p>'Madame is not wiz you, sare?' the fellow said.</p> + +<p>We had not been there for a month, but he remembered; and, on the instant, I +recalled our last visit--the beginning of one of our fresh starts. And this was +the end of it. Well!</p> + +<p>Suddenly I found myself reaching for my hat.</p> + +<p>'No,' I said, 'madam is late. I will go and look for her.' And out I went. +In that moment I had seen pictures: Fanny, before our marriage, on her knees at +my hearth in the room in Howard Street; in her dove-coloured frock on our +marriage night, clinging to my arm when she was fresh from the excitement of +leaving Howard Street. There were other scenes. What an immature and helpless +child she was! And how much help had I given her? After all, food and clothing +and so forth, freedom from tyranny--well, these were not everything. She needed +more intimate care and guidance. The responsibility was mine.</p> + +<p>In the end I went to a shop and bought the materials for a meal, even as on +an evening which seemed very long ago, when I had given her supper in my +bedroom. Only, on this occasion, with a sigh which contained considerable +self-reproach, I omitted Burgundy, or any equivalent thereto. We had the +wherewithal for brewing tea in our rooms. And so, carrying a supper for us +both, I returned to the lodging. And there was Fanny on her knees before the +hearth in the sitting-room, just as she had been on that previous occasion. And +now she was crying. Her nerveless fingers held no brush. The hearth was far +from speckless, and the grate held only dead grey ashes, and some scraps of +torn paper--my own wasted manuscript.</p> + +<p>Fanny was weeping, weakly and quietly. She knew, then. She had not forgotten +that I had seen her. But her hair had been brushed. She wore a different gown. +She looked shrinkingly and fearfully up at me as I came in.</p> + +<p>'You better, little woman?' I said as I began to put down my parcels. I had +tried hard to make the words sound careless and normal, kindly and cheerful. +But I thought as I heard them that a man with a quinsy might have managed a +better tone.</p> + +<p>In another moment she was clinging to me somehow, without having risen to +her feet, and sobbing out an incoherent expression of her penitence and shame. +I was tremendously moved. And, while seeking to console her, my real sympathy +for this sobbing child was shot through and illumined by the most fatuous sort +of optimism.</p> + +<p>'I've been making a tragedy out of a disagreeable mishap,' I told myself. +'She is only a child who has made herself ill. The thing won't happen again, +one may be sure. This is a lesson she will never forget. No one could possibly +mistake the genuineness of all this.' By which I meant her heaving shoulders, +streaming eyes, and penitent self-abasement.</p> + +<p>In the process of soothing her, of course, I made light of her +self-confessed baseness. I suppose I spent at least half an hour in comforting +her. Then we supped, with a hint of April gaiety towards the end. I endeavoured +to be humorous in a lover-like way. Fanny dabbed her eyes, smiled, and choked, +and even laughed a little. But the vows, protestations, resolves for the +future--these were all most solemn and impressive.</p> + +<p>And they all held good, too,--for a week and a half. And then our landlady +gave me notice, because in the broad light of mid-afternoon Fanny had stumbled +over the front door-mat on entering the house, and lain there, laughing and +singing; she had refused to move, and had had to be dragged upstairs for +appearance's sake.</p> + +<p>The landlady must have occupied ten minutes, I think, in giving me notice. +Almost, I could have struck the poor soul before she was through with it. When +at length she drew breath, and allowed me to escape, I thought her Cockney +dialect the basest and vilest ever evolved among the tongues of mankind. Yet +the good woman was really very civil, and rather kindly disposed towards me +than otherwise, I think. There was no good reason why I should have felt bitter +towards her. Rather, perhaps, I should have been apologetic. And it was clean +contrary to my nature and disposition, this savage bitterness. But one of the +curses of squalor is that it exacerbates the mildest temper, corrodes and +embitters every one it touches.</p> + +<p>On the third morning after our instalment in new lodgings--two almost +exactly similar rooms, a little farther away from Mrs. Pelly and Howard Street, +in a turning off the lower Hampstead Road--I received a letter, forwarded on +from our first lodging, from Arncliffe, the editor to whom, some four years +before this time, I had taken a letter of introduction. At intervals Arncliffe +had accepted and published quite a number of articles from my pen, but we had +not again met, unless one counts the occasion upon which I followed him into an +expensive restaurant at luncheon time, on the off-chance of being noticed by +him. The letter ran thus:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;">'Dear Mr. Freydon,--As you are probably aware, I am +now in the chair of the <em>Advocate</em>, and a pretty uneasy seat I find it, +so far. It occurs to me that we might be able to do something for each other. +Will you give me a call here between three and four one afternoon this week, if +you are not too busy.--Yours sincerely, Henry Arncliffe.'</p> + +<p>The letter gave me rather a thrill. Sylvanus Creed had published two books +of mine, and my work had recently appeared in several of the leading journals. +But the <em>Advocate</em> was certainly one of the oldest and most famous of +London's daily newspapers--I vaguely recalled having read somewhere that it had +changed its proprietors during the past week or so--and I had never before +received a summons from the editor of such a journal. Fanny had a headache and +was cross that morning; but I told her of the letter, and explained that it +might easily mean some increase in my earnings.</p> + +<p>'If he would commission me for a series of articles, we might afford to take +a room on the next floor for me to work in,' I said rather selfishly +perhaps.</p> + +<p>'Groceries seem to be dearer every week,' said Fanny, 'and Mrs. Heaps +charges sevenpence for every scuttle of coal. I never heard of such a price. +Mother never charges more than sixpence, no matter if coal goes up ever so.'</p> + +<p>This touched a sore spot between us. It seemed Mrs. Pelly had two rooms +empty, and Fanny did not find it easy to forgive me for my refusal to go and +live in Howard Street.</p> + +<p>If Arncliffe found his editorial chair an uneasy seat, it was not the +chair's fault. A more dignified and withal more ingeniously contrived and +padded resting-place for mortal limbs I never saw. And the editorial apartment, +how spacious, silent, and admirably adapted, in the dignity of its lines and +furnishings, for the reception of Cabinet Ministers, and the excogitation of +thunderbolts for the chancelleries of Europe! It was currently reported in +Fleet Street that Lord Beaconsfield had been particularly familiar with the +interior of that apartment.</p> + +<p>I found the great man in cheerful spirits, and looking fresher than ordinary +mortals, I suppose because his day had only just begun. From him I learned how, +some eight days previously, the <em>Advocate</em> had been purchased, lock, +stock, and barrel (from the family whose members had inherited possession of +it), by Sir William Bartram, M.P., head of the great engineering and +contracting firm which bore his name. It seemed Sir William had been advised by +a very great statesman indeed to secure the editorial services of Mr. +Arncliffe; and he had managed to do it in forty-eight hours by dint of the +exercise of a certain amount of political and social influence in various +quarters, and by entering into a contract which, for some years, at all events, +would make Arncliffe a tolerably rich man.</p> + +<p>A good deal was left to my imagination, of course. It was assumed, very +kindly, that I understood the relations existing between this nobleman and the +other, as touching Sir William's precise influence and sphere in the world of +politics. Naturally, when the Party Whip heard so and so, he went to Mr. ----, +and the result, of course, was pressure from Lord ----, which settled the +matter in five minutes. I nodded very intelligently at intervals, to show my +recognition of the inevitableness of it all; and so an end was reached of that +stage in our conversation.</p> + +<p>In the slight pause which followed Arncliffe touched a spring releasing the +door of a cabinet apparently designed to hold State Papers of the highest +importance, and disclosed some beautiful boxes of cigars and other creature +comforts. It became clear to me, as I thanked Arncliffe for the match he handed +me, that he must have forgotten the first impressions he had formed of me some +years earlier. Perhaps he had confused me in his mind with some other more +important and affluent person. And yet he did remember some of my articles. His +remarks proved that. I wondered if he could also remember that they had reached +him, some of them, from South Tottenham. Probably not. And, if he did, his +editorial omniscience could hardly have given him knowledge of any of my slum +garrets. On the other hand, he clearly assumed that I was familiar with the +life of the House of Commons and the clubs of London, if not with that of the +other august and crimson-benched Chamber.</p> + +<p>'You know L----,' he said, casually mentioning a leader in literary +journalism so prominent that I could not but be familiar with his +reputation.</p> + +<p>'By name, of course,' I agreed.</p> + +<p>'Ah! To be sure. And T----, and R----, and, I think, J----; yes, I've got +'em all. So we ought to make the <em>Advocate</em> move things along, if the +most brilliant staff in London can accomplish it.'</p> + +<p>I nodded sympathetically, and presently gathered that over and above all +this the kindly and intimate relations subsisting between Arncliffe and the +principal occupants of the Treasury Bench (not to mention a certain moiety of +influence which might conceivably be exercised by the new proprietor, Sir +William) were such as to ensure brilliant success and greatly increased +prestige to the <em>Advocate</em>, under the new regime.</p> + +<p>All this was very pleasant hearing, of course, and at suitable intervals I +offered congratulatory movements of the head and eyebrows, with murmured +ejaculations to similar effect. But, as touching myself and my obscure problems +(of which such an Olympian as Arncliffe could, naturally, have no conception), +it was all somewhat insubstantial and remote; rather of the stuff of which +dreams are compounded. And so, watching my opportunity, I presently ventured a +tentative inquiry as to the direction in which I might hope to justify the +terms of Mr. Arncliffe's letter, and be of any service.</p> + +<p>'Oh! Well, of course, that's for you to say,' said the editor, with a +suggestion of having been suddenly curbed in full career. 'I may be quite wrong +in supposing such things would have any interest for you. But I--I have +followed--er--your work, you know; followed your work and, in fact, it struck +me you might like to join us here, you know. It is a staff worth joining, I +think, and-- But, of course, you are the best judge of your own affairs.'</p> + +<p>'It's extremely kind of you, extremely kind.'</p> + +<p>'Not at all. I think you could do good work for the <em>Advocate</em>.'</p> + +<p>'There's nothing I'd like better. But-- Do I understand that you mean me to +join your permanent staff, and come and work here in the building every +day?'</p> + +<p>'Why, yes; yes, to be sure.'</p> + +<p>'I see.'</p> + +<p>It meant an end to my free-lancing then. But, after all, what had this +free-lancing meant, since my marriage? It would provide a place to work in. The +hours might not be excessive. The pay ... Fanny was for ever talking of the +increase in prices. My earnings, though on the up grade, had seemed very +insufficient of late. There certainly was nothing to make me cling to our home +as a place in which to carry on my work.</p> + +<p>'And in the matter of salary?' I said, as who should say that in such a +business it is well to glance at even the most trivial of details.</p> + +<p>'Ah!' replied Arncliffe. 'Yes; that's a point now, isn't it? You see the +fact is I had a bit of a scene with the business side here yesterday. We are +new to each other as yet, you know--the manager and myself. But he's a very +decent fellow, and I shall soon have him properly in hand, I'm sure of that. +Meantime, of course, I have been rather going it, you know, from his point of +view. You can't get L----, and T----, and R----, for tuppence-ha'penny, you +know.'</p> + +<p>'No, indeed, that's true,' said I, with the air of one who had tried this +game and proved its impossibility.</p> + +<p>'No. And so, in the matter of pay I must go gently, you know, at first. I +must ca' canny for a while. I shall be able to make things all right a little +later on, you know, but just to begin with I'm afraid I couldn't manage more +than three or four hundred a year.'</p> + +<p>I did not think it necessary to mention that my London record so far was +little more than half the lower sum mentioned. On the contrary, I pinched my +chin and said: 'Oh!' rather blankly, and without really knowing what I said, or +why I said it. I wanted to think, as a matter of fact. But what I said was well +enough.</p> + +<p>'H'm! Yes, I see what you mean. It is poor, I know,' said Arncliffe, in his +quick, burbling way. 'But, as I say, I should hope to improve it a little later +on, you know. And, meantime, you may probably continue to earn something +outside, you know; so that two or three hundred--say three hundred--but of +course you're the best judge.'</p> + +<p>Perhaps I was. I wonder! At all events, my mind was made up. The life of the +last few months had made it clear that I needed more money.</p> + +<p>'Oh, I'll be very glad,' I said. 'By the way, you did mention at first three +or four, not two or three hundred.'</p> + +<p>'Did I? Ah! Well, say three to begin with.'</p> + +<p>I gathered it was rather difficult for the real Olympian to think at all in +figures so absurdly low. So we let it go at that, and, this being a Friday, I +agreed to start work at the office on the following Monday.</p> + +<p>'I shall be able to get a room here, shall I not?' I asked with some +anxiety.</p> + +<p>'A room? Oh, surely, surely. Yes, yes, that's all right. Ask for me. Come +and see me before doing anything, and I'll see to it. So glad we've fixed it. +Good-bye!'</p> + +<p>And so, very affably, I was bowed out of my free-lance life, the which I had +entered by way of the north-eastern slums.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>My first Monday in the <em>Advocate</em> office was not a pleasant day. +Arriving there about ten o'clock in the morning, I learned that the editor was +never expected before three in the afternoon. I knew no other person in the +building, and so no place was open to me except the waiting-room. However, I +whiled away the morning in that apartment by making a pretty thorough study of +a file of the <em>Advocate</em>, in the course of which I took notes and made +memoranda of suggestions which would have kept an editor busy for a week or two +had he acted upon one half of them.</p> + +<p>The time thus spent was far from wasted, since it gave me more of an insight +into current politics (as reflected in the pages of this particular organ) than +I had obtained during my whole life in England up till then, and it gave me a +thorough grasp of the policy of the <em>Advocate</em>. After a somewhat +Barmecidal feast in a Fleet Street eating-house (domestic expenditure left me +very short of funds at this time), I returned to my post and wrote a political +leading article which I ventured to think at least the equal in persuasive +force and profundity of anything I had read that morning. At three o'clock +precisely, my name, written on a slip of paper, was placed on the editorial +table. There were then nine other people in the waiting-room. At four I began a +second leading article, which was finished at half-past five. At a quarter to +six the manuscript of both effusions was sent in to the editor. At a quarter to +seven inquiry elicited the information that the editor had left the building +almost an hour since, with Sir William Bartram, after a crowded afternoon which +had brought disappointment to many beside myself who had wished to see him.</p> + +<p>Unused as I was now to salary earning I felt uneasy. It seemed to me rather +dreadful that any institution should be mulcted to the extent of a guinea in +the day, by way of payment to a man who spent that day in a waiting-room. I +looked anxiously for my leading articles next morning. But, no; the editorial +space was occupied by other (much less edifying) contributions upon topics +which had not occurred to me. During that morning I began to fancy that the +very bell-boys were suspicious, and might be contemplating the desirability of +laying a complaint against me for not earning my princely salary.</p> + +<p>However, at a few minutes after three o'clock, I was escorted by the head +messenger--who had rather the air of a seneschal or chamberlain--to the +editorial apartment, where I found Arncliffe giving audience to his news +editor, Mr. Pink, and one of his leader-writers, a very old <em>Advocate</em> +identity, Mr. Samuel Harbottle---a white-whiskered and rubicund gentleman, who +was entitled to use most of the letters of the alphabet after his name should +he so choose. I was presented to both these gentlemen, and in a few minutes +they took their departure.</p> + +<p>'Poor old Harbottle!' said Arncliffe, when the door had closed behind the +leader-writer. 'An able man, mind you, in his prehistoric way; but-- Well, he +can hardly expect to live our pace, you know. He has had a very fair innings. +Still, we must move gradually. The change has to be made, but we don't want to +upset these patriarchs more than is absolutely necessary. Have a cigar? Sure? +Well, I dare say you're right. I'll have a cigarette. Sorry I couldn't see you +yesterday. Now I'll tell you what I want you to tackle for me, first of all: +Correspondence.'</p> + +<p>For a moment I had a vision of almost forgotten days in Sussex Street, +Sydney: 'Dear Mr. Gubbins,--With regard to your last consignment of butter,' +etc.</p> + +<p>'The correspondence of this paper has been disgracefully neglected. And, +mind you, that's a serious mistake. Nothing people like better than seeing +their names in the paper. They make their relatives read it, and for each time +you print their rubbish, they'll be content to scan your every column for a +fortnight. I mean to do it properly. We'll give two or three columns a day to +our Letters to the Editor. But, the point is, they must be handled +intelligently, both with regard to which letters should be used and which +should not; and also in the matter of condensation. We can't let 'em ramble +indefinitely, or they'd fill the paper. Now that's what I want you to tackle +for me for a start. I can't possibly get time to wade through them myself; but +if you once get the thing licked into proper shape, it will make a good +permanent feature, and--er--you will gradually drop into other things, you +know.'</p> + +<p>'Yes. I've made notes of a few suggestions,' I began.</p> + +<p>'Quite so. That's what I want. That's where I hope we shall be really +successful. There's no good in having a brilliant editorial staff if one +doesn't get suggestions from them, and act on 'em.'</p> + +<p>I drew some memoranda from my pocket. But the editor swept on.</p> + +<p>'I'm a thorough believer in suggestions. The moment I have got things +running a little more smoothly, I shall have a round table conference every +afternoon to deal with suggestions for the day. Meantime, I'll tell my +secretary to have all letters for publication passed straight on to you, so +that you can sift and prepare a correspondence feature every day. They may want +helping out a bit occasionally, of course. A friendly lead, you know, from "An +Old Reader," or "Paterfamilias," to keep 'em to their muttons. You'll see.'</p> + +<p>'And where can I work?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Ah, to be sure. Yes. You want a room. Come with me now. I'll introduce you +to Hutchens, the manager, and he'll fix you up.'</p> + +<p>Mr. Hutchens proved to be a miracle of correctness. I never knew much of +Lombard Street, Cornhill, Threadneedle Street, and their purlieus; but I felt +instinctively that Mr. Hutchens, in his dress, tone, and general deportment, +had attained as closely as mortal might to the highest city standards of what a +leading city man should be. I never saw a speck of dust on his immaculately +shining boots or hat. His manner would have been almost priceless, I should +suppose, in the board room of a bank. His close-clipped whiskers--resembling +some costly fur--his large, perfectly white hands and frozen facial expression +were alike eloquent of massive dividends, of balance sheets of sacred +propriety, of gravely cordial votes of thanks to noble chairmen, of gilt-edged +security and success.</p> + +<p>There was something, too, of the headmaster in the way in which he shook +hands with me, and in the automatic geniality of the smile with which he +favoured Arncliffe. (In this connection, of course, Arncliffe was a parent, and +I a future incumbent of the swishing block.)</p> + +<p>'Another star in our costly galaxy,' he said; and, having reduced me by one +glance to the proportions of a performing flea, rather poorly trained, he gave +his attention indulgently to the editor.</p> + +<p>'With regard to that question of the extra twenty minutes for the last +forme,' he began.</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know,' said Arncliffe. 'Drop in and see me about it later, will +you?' (I marvelled at his temerity. As soon would I have thought of inviting +the Lord Mayor to forsake his Mansion House and turtles to 'drop in and see me +later!') 'Meantime, I want you to find a home for Freydon, will you? He's going +to tackle the--a new feature, you know, and must have a room.'</p> + +<p>'There's not a vacant room in the building, Mr. Arncliffe--hardly a chair, I +should suppose. We now have a staff, you know, which----'</p> + +<p>'Yes, I know, I know; there's got to be a good deal of sifting, but we must +go gently. We don't want to set Fleet Street humming. Look here! What about old +Harbottle? He has a room, hasn't he?'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Harbottle has had his room here, Mr. Arncliffe, for just upon +twenty-seven years.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; I thought so. Where is it?'</p> + +<p>'Mr. Harbottle's room is immediately overhead.'</p> + +<p>'Let's have a look at it. Do you mind? Can you spare a minute?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I am quite at your service, of course, Mr. Arncliffe.'</p> + +<p>A minion from the messenger's office walked processionally before us bearing +a key, and presently we were in Mr. Harbottle's sanctuary. Two well-worn +saddle-bag chairs stood before the hearth, and between them a chastely designed +little table. On the rug was a pair of roomy slippers. In a glass-fronted +cabinet one saw decanters and tumblers. Against one wall stood a large and +comfortable couch. The writing-table was supplied with virgin blotting-paper, +new pens, works of reference, ash-tray, matches, and the like; and over the +mantel hung a full-length portrait of Lord Beaconsfield. There was also an +ivory-handled copper kettle, and a patent coffee-making apparatus.</p> + +<p>'H'm! The old boy makes himself comfortable,' said Arncliffe. 'He has +written one short leader note since--since the change. And where does the other +old gentleman work, Hutchens? The one with gout, you know. What's his name? The +very old chap, I mean.'</p> + +<p>'Dr. Powell? Dr. Powell's room is the next one to this.'</p> + +<p>A key was brought to us, and we inspected another very similar apartment, +which had a green baize-covered leg-rest on its hearth-rug.</p> + +<p>'H'm! Dr. Powell is not quite so busy, of course. We haven't had a line from +him yet. Well, Hutchens, you might have Dr. Powell's things put in Mr. +Harbottle's room at once, will you? or the other way about, you know. It +doesn't matter which. Then Freydon here can have one of these rooms. He will +want to start in at once.'</p> + +<p>'As you like, of course, Mr. Arncliffe,' said the manager, with portentous +suavity. 'These gentlemen are of your staff, not mine. But, really! Well, it is +for you to say, but I greatly fear that one or both of these gentlemen will be +quite likely to resign if we treat them in so very summary a fashion.'</p> + +<p>'No! Do you really think that?' asked Arncliffe, so earnestly that I felt my +chance of having a room to myself was irretrievably lost.</p> + +<p>'I do indeed, Mr. Arncliffe. You see, these gentlemen have been accustomed +for very many years to--well, to a considerable amount of deference, +and----'</p> + +<p>'Well, then, in that case, I'll tell you what, Hutchens; put 'em both in the +other old gentleman's room upstairs, will you? Mr. Thingummy's, you know, who +specialises on Egyptology. I know he's got a nice room, because he insisted on +my drinking a glass of port there the other night. Port always upsets me. Put +'em both in there, will you? Then we'll give one of these rooms to L----, and +you might let Freydon here start work in the other right away, will you? By +Jove! If you're only right, you know, that will simplify matters immensely. An +excellent idea of yours, Hutchens. I'm no end obliged to you.'</p> + +<p>'But, Mr. Arncliffe, I really----'</p> + +<p>'Right you are! I'll see you later about that last forme question. Look in +in about an hour, will you? I must bolt now--half a dozen people waiting. +You'll get the letters from my secretary, Freydon, won't you? Come and see me +whenever you've got any suggestions. Always ready for suggestions, any +time!'</p> + +<p>His last words reached us faintly from the staircase.</p> + +<p>'Tut, tut!' said Mr. Hutchens. 'I am afraid these violent upheavals will +make for a good deal of trouble; a good deal of trouble. However!' And then he +glared formidably upon me, as who should say: 'At least, <em>you</em> cannot +give me any orders. Let me see you open your mouth, you confounded newcomer, +and I will smite you to the earth with a managerial thunderbolt!'</p> + +<p>'Well,' said I cheerfully, 'I'd better go and fetch those letters. And which +of these rooms would you prefer me to take?'</p> + +<p>'I would prefer, sir, that you took neither of them. But as Dr. Powell's +gout is very bad, and he is therefore not likely to be here this week, you had +better occupy this room--for the present.'</p> + +<p>The emphasis he laid on these last words seemed meant to convey to me a +sense of the extreme precariousness of my tenure of any room in that building, +if not of existence in the same city.</p> + +<p>'I trust you understand that this choice of rooms is no affair of mine,' I +said.</p> + +<p>I thought his frozen expression showed a hint of softening at this, but he +only said as he swept processionally away:</p> + +<p>'I will give the requisite instructions.'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>For some weeks I was rather interested by the manipulation of that +correspondence. Treated in a romantic spirit, the work was not unlike novel or +play-writing; and, on paper, I established interesting relations with quite a +number of rural clergymen, country squires, London clubmen, a don or two, and +some lady correspondents.</p> + +<p>I availed myself generously of the hint about giving an occasional lead, and +in starting new topics of discussion entered with zest into the task of +creating and upholding imaginary partisans with one hand, whilst with the other +hand bringing forth caustic opponents to vilify and belittle them. As a fact, I +believe I made its correspondence the most amusing and interesting feature in +the paper. But, as his way was, Arncliffe lost his enthusiasm for it after a +time, and, delegating the care of its remains to some underling, spurred me on +to fresh fields of journalistic enterprise.</p> + +<p>It was not easy for me to develop quite the same interest in these later +undertakings, whatever their intrinsic qualities, for the reason that my +domestic circumstances were becoming steadily more and more of a preoccupation +and an anxiety. It had not taken very long for me to learn that, in my case at +all events, the fact of one's income being doubled does not necessarily mean +that one's life is made smooth and easy upon its domestic side. By virtue of my +increased earnings we had moved, after my first month as a salaried man, to +rather better rooms; but there seemed no point in having more than two of them, +since I now had a room of my own at the <em>Advocate</em> office, <em>vice</em> +poor Dr. Powell and his leg-rest, now no longer to be met with in that +building.</p> + +<p>As time went on many unpleasant things became evident, among them the +conclusion that ours, Fanny's and mine, was to be a nomadic sort of existence, +though it was apparently never to fall to me to give notice of an intended +change of residence. The notice invariably came from our landladies. And the +better the lodging, the briefer our stay in it, because our notice came the +sooner. In view of this it was, more than for any monetary reason--though, as a +fact, it did seem to me that I was rather more short of money now than in my +poorer days--that we took to living in shabby quarters, and in the frowzier +types of apartment houses, where few questions are asked, and no particular +etiquette is observed....</p> + +<p>So I set these things down as though looking back across the years upon the +affairs of some unfortunate stranger on the world's far side. But, Heaven +knows, this is not because I have forgotten, or shall ever forget, any of the +squalid misery, the crushing, all-befouling humiliation and wretchedness of +those years. Just as one part of the period burnt its mark into me for ever by +means of its effects upon my bodily health, just as surely as it burned its way +through my poor wife's constitution; so indelibly did every phase of it imprint +itself upon my brain, and permanently colour my outlook upon life.</p> + +<p>Men, and even women, who have never come into personal contact with the +pestilence that infected my married life, are able to speak lightly enough of +it.</p> + +<p>'Bit too fond of his glass, I'm told!'</p> + +<p>'His wife is a bit peculiar, you know. Yes, he has to keep the decanters +under lock and key, I believe.'</p> + +<p>Remarks of that sort, often semi-jocular, are common enough. The +pastry-cooks and the grocers know a lot about the feminine side of this +tragedy, at which so many folk smile. But those who, from personal experience, +know the thing, would more likely smile in the face of Death himself, or joke +about leprosy and famine.</p> + +<p>I had seen something of the working of the curse among London's very poor +people. Now, I learned much more than I had ever known. At first I thought it +terrible when, once in a month or so, Fanny became helpless and incapable from +drinking gin. I came eventually to know what it meant to see ground for +thankfulness, if not for hope, in a period of forty-eight consecutive hours of +sobriety for my wife.</p> + +<p>The practical difficulties in these cases are very great for people as +comparatively poor as we were. They are intolerably acute in the households of +workmen earning from one to two pounds a week. In such families the presence of +children--and there generally are children--is an added horror, which sometimes +leads to the most gruesome kind of murder; murder for which some poor, +unhinged, broken-hearted devil of a man is hanged, and so at last flung out of +his misery.</p> + +<p>I never gave Fanny any money now if I could possibly avoid it. Accordingly, +I discovered one day, when I had occasion to look for my dress clothes, that, +having sold practically every garment of her own, my wife had cleared out the +major portion of my small wardrobe.</p> + +<p>But a far worse thing happened shortly afterwards, when my wife pawned some +plated oddments belonging to our landlady. This episode kept me on the rack for +a full week. Replacing the stolen articles was, fortunately, not difficult; but +the landlady was. She was bent upon prosecution, and our escape was an +excruciatingly narrow one. I had a four days' 'holiday' over this episode, +during which my editor was allowed to picture me in cheerful recuperation +up-river--one of a merry boating party.</p> + +<p>After this I made inquiries about trained nurses, and gathered that they +were quite beyond my means; not alone in the matter of the scale of +remuneration they required, but, even more markedly, in the scale of household +comfort which their employment necessitated. I talked the matter over very +seriously with Fanny, and begged her to try the effect of three months in a +curative institution of which I had obtained particulars. At first she was very +bitter and angry in her refusal to discuss this. Then she wept, sobbed, and +became hysterical in imploring me never to think of such a thing for her. But +the extremely difficult and harrowing escape from police court proceedings had +impressed me very deeply.</p> + +<p>As soon as we could get together the bare necessities by way of furnishings, +I insisted on our moving into unfurnished rooms in which we could cater for +ourselves. But the result was not merely that there was never a meal prepared +for me, but also that Fanny never had a proper meal. I engaged servants. They +either gave notice after a week, or worse, much worse, my wife made boon +companions of them. We moved again, this time into unfurnished rooms in a house +whose landlady undertook to serve meals to us at stated hours. But the house +was too respectable for us, and in a month we were given notice.</p> + +<p>No, it was not easy to develop any very warm interest in Mr. Arncliffe's +projects for the stimulation of the <em>Advocate's</em> circulation. But I +occupied Dr. Powell's old room during most days, and did my best; and, rather +to my surprise, when I quite casually said I was not able to afford some luxury +or another--lawn tennis, I believe it was, recommended by my chief as a remedy +for my fagged and unhealthy appearance--I was given an increase of salary to +the extent of an additional fifty pounds a year. I expressed my thanks, and +Arncliffe said:</p> + +<p>'Not at all, not at all. I'm only too glad. Your work's first rate, and I +much appreciate your suggestions. I don't want you to work less; but, in all +seriousness, my dear fellow, you should take it easier. Do just as much work, +but don't worry so much about it. Carry your whatsaname more lightly, you know. +Believe me, that's the thing.'</p> + +<p>I agreed of course, and went home to give Fanny the news of the increased +salary. I found her helpless and comatose on the hearth-rug.</p> + +<p>I had talked to doctors, and gleaned little or nothing therefrom. Now I +tried a lawyer, with a view to finding out the legal aspect of my position. Was +it possible to oblige my wife to enter a curative institution against her will? +Certainly not, save by a magistrate's order, and as the result of repeated +appearances in the dock at police courts.</p> + +<p>The lawyer told me that our 'man-made' laws were pretty hard upon husbands +in such cases as mine. They offered no relief or assistance whatever, he said; +though in the case of a persistently drunken husband, the law was fortunately +able to do a good deal for the wife. 'But nothing at all when it's the other +way round,' he added; 'a fact which leads to much misery, and not a little +crime, among the poorer classes. I'm very sorry for you,' he added; 'but to be +frank, I must say that the law will not help you one atom; neither will it +offer you any kind of redress if your wife sells up your home once a week. +Neither may you legally put her out from your home because of that. Under our +law a wife may claim and hold her husband's company until she drives him into +the bankruptcy court, or the lunatic asylum--or his grave. It is worse than +senseless, but it is the law; and if your business prevents you keeping watch +and ward over your wife yourself, the only course is to employ some relative, +or a professed caretaker, to do it for you. The law shows a little more common +sense where the case is the other way round. A wife can always get a separation +order to relieve her of the presence of a persistently drunken husband; and, +with it, an order for her maintenance, which he must obey or go to prison.'</p> + +<p>So I did not get very much for my six-and-eightpence, beyond an explicit +confirmation of the impression already pretty firmly rooted in my mind, that +the most burdensome portion of my particular load in life was something which +nobody could help me to carry.</p> + +<p>By this time Fanny had lost the sense of shame and humiliation which had +characterised all her early recoveries, and informed all her good resolutions +and frantic promises of amendment. She made no resolutions now, and in place of +shame, poor soul, was conscious only of the physical penalties which her +excesses brought in their train. These made her very sullen, and, at the same +time, very irritable. There were times, as I well knew, when she had no other +means of obtaining drink, but yet did obtain it, from that misguided woman--her +mother, whose craving she inherited, without a tithe of the brute strength +which apparently enabled the older woman to defy all consequences.</p> + +<p>I do not think it necessary to set down here precisely the miserable ways in +which I saw her habits gradually sap all self-restraint and womanly decency +from my wife. The process was gradual, pitilessly inexorable as the growth of a +malignant tumour, and a ghastly and humiliating thing to witness. In the case +of a woman, my impression is that alcoholism reacts even more directly upon +character, and the mental and nervous system, than it does in men. Their fall +is more complete. At least, for a man it is more horrible to witness than any +degradation of another man.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In these days it was my habit each evening to make my way as directly as +might be from the <em>Advocate</em> office to our home of the moment. There +was, of course, always a certain measure of uncertainty in my mind as to what +might await me in our rooms; and there were many occasions when my presence +there as early as possible was highly desirable. It was my dismal task upon +more than two or three occasions to visit police stations, and enter into bail +to save my wife from spending a night in the cells.</p> + +<p>Naturally, in view of all these circumstances, I remained as much a hermit +as though living in Livorno Bay, so far as the social life of my colleagues and +of London generally was concerned. During all this time social intercourse was +for me confined to Fanny (who became steadily less social in her habits and +inclinations) and to occasional meetings with Sidney Heron. Once and again a +man at the office would ask me to dine with him (regarding me as a bachelor, of +course), and always I felt bound to plead a prior engagement. One night, when +Fanny had gone early to bed, feeling wretchedly ill, and sullenly angry because +I would have no liquor of any sort on the premises, not even the lager beer +which it had been my own habit for some time past to drink with meals, Heron +sat with me in our living-room, smoking and staring into the fire. It was late, +and something had moved Heron to stir me into giving him the outline of my +early life and Australian experiences.</p> + +<p>'Yes, you're a queer bird,' he opined, after a long silence. 'And your life +confirms my old conviction that, broadly speaking, there are only two kinds of +human beings: those who prey--with an "e," and rarely with an "a"--and those +who are preyed upon: parasites and their hosts. There are doubtless +subdivisions in infinite variety; but I have yet to meet the man or woman who, +in essence, is not parasite or host, the preyer or the preyed upon.'</p> + +<p>'And I----'</p> + +<p>'Oh, clearly, and all along the line, you're the host. Mind, I waste no +great sympathy upon you. It is quite an open point which class is the less +deserving or the better off. But in your case it is, perhaps, rather a pity, +because upon the whole I doubt if your fibre is tough enough to sustain the +part. On the other hand, you haven't half enough--well--suction for a +successful parasite; and those between are apt to get ground up rather small. +My advice to you-- But, Lord, is there any greater folly in all this foolish +world than the giving of advice?'</p> + +<p>'Never mind. Let's have it.'</p> + +<p>'No, I'll not give advice. But I will state what I believe to be a fact; and +that is that you would be the better for it if you were sedulously to cultivate +a self-regarding policy of <em>laissez-faire</em>. It may be as rotten as you +please as a national policy. Our own beloved countrymen are even now, I think, +preparing for the world a most convincing demonstration of that. But for +certain individuals--you among 'em--it has many points, and, pursued with +discretion, is likely to prove highly beneficial.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! The let-be policy?'</p> + +<p>Heron nodded. 'Of all creeds,' he said, 'perhaps the one that calls for the +most rigid self-control--for a certain type of man, the type that most needs +its use.'</p> + +<p>I had lowered my voice involuntarily, though I knew that Fanny had long +since been sleeping heavily. 'Do you realise what it would mean in my +particular case, on the domestic side?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Well, yes; I think so.'</p> + +<p>'Hardly, my friend. It would mean relinquishing the care of my wife to the +police.' There were no secrets between us in this matter.</p> + +<p>'Yes, something rather like that, I suppose,' said Heron. 'And don't you +think upon the whole they may be rather better equipped for the task?'</p> + +<p>'My dear Heron!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, of course, that tone's unanswerable. But lay aside the sentimental +aspect, and consider the practical logic of it. You might as well see where you +really stand, you know. It won't affect your actions, really. You belong to the +wrong division of the race. But what are you doing to remedy your wife's +case?'</p> + +<p>I admitted I was doing nothing. I had tried in many directions, including +the clandestine administration of costly specifics, which had merely seemed to +rob poor Fanny of all appetite for food, without in any way affecting the +lamentable craving which wrecked her life.</p> + +<p>'Precisely,' resumed Heron. 'You are doing nothing to remedy it, because +there is nothing you are in a position to do. You are merely "standing by," as +sailors say, from sentimental motives. It is <em>laissez-faire</em>, of a sort; +only, it's an infernally painful and wearing sort for you. It reduces your life +to something like her own, without, so far as I can see, benefiting her in the +least. I think the police could do as well. In fact, in your place, I should +clear out altogether, and give Mrs. Pelly a show. But, failing that, I would at +least wash my hands, so to say. I would refuse the situation any predominant +place in my mind, join a club and use it, and-- O Lord! what is the use of +talking of absolutely hopeless things? I don't know that I'd do anything of the +sort, and I do know very well that you won't.'</p> + +<p>There fell another silence between us, which lasted several minutes. And +then Heron rose to his feet, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and said he +must be going. I walked down the road with him, and paused at its corner, where +he would pick up an omnibus. The moon emerged from behind a cloud, touching +with a delicate sepia some fleecy edge of cumuli.</p> + +<p>'Has it ever occurred to you, my innocent, that there is anything in England +beyond the metropolitan radius?' asked Heron suddenly. 'Honest, now; have you +ever been ten miles from Charing Cross since you landed from that blessed +ship?'</p> + +<p>'Well, it does seem queer, now you mention it; but I don't believe I have-- +Except to Epping Forest, you know. I'm not sure how far that is; but I used +often to go there at one time, not lately, but----'</p> + +<p>'Before you mortgaged your soul to the <em>Advocate</em>, eh? Though I +suppose the more serious mortgage was the one before that. Look here! Bring +your wife on Saturday, and meet me at Victoria at ten o'clock. We'll go and +have a look at Leith Hill. A tramp will do you both good. Will you come?'</p> + +<p>By doing a certain amount of work there on Sunday, I could always absent +myself from office on a Saturday. So I agreed to go. On the Friday Fanny seemed +unusually calm and well. I was quite excited over the prospect of our little +jaunt, and Fanny herself appeared to think cheerfully and kindly of it. In the +lodging we occupied at that time I had a tiny bedroom of my own. I woke very +early on the Saturday morning, but when I found it was barely five o'clock +turned over for another doze. When next I woke it was to find, greatly to my +annoyance, that the hour was half-past eight; and there were several little +things I wanted to have done before starting for Victoria. I hurried into our +sitting-room before dressing, meaning to rouse Fanny, whose room opened from +it. But she was not in her bedroom, and returning to the other room I found a +note on the table.</p> + +<p>'I am not feeling well,' the note said, 'and cannot come with you to-day. So +I shall spend the day with mother, and be back here about tea-time.'</p> + +<p>For a moment I thought of hurrying round to Mrs. Pelly's, and seeing if I +could prevail on Fanny to change her mind. But I hated going to that house, +and, of late, I had had some experience of the futility of trying to influence +Fanny in any way during these sullen morning hours, when she was very often +possessed by a sort of lethargy, any interference with which provoked only +excessive irritation.</p> + +<p>It was most disappointing. But-- 'Very well, then,' I muttered to myself, +'she must stay with her mother. I can't leave Heron waiting at Victoria.'</p> + +<p>So I dressed and proceeded direct to the station, relying upon having a few +minutes to spare there during which to break my fast in the +refreshment-room.</p> + +<p>Heron nodded rather grimly over my explanation of Fanny's absence, and we +were both pretty silent during the journey to Dorking. But once out in the +open, and tramping along a country road, we breathed deeper of an air clean +enough to dispel town-bred languors. I felt my spirits rise, and we began to +talk. The day was admirable, beginning with light mists, and ripening, by the +time we began our tramp, into that mellow splendour which October does at times +vouchsafe, especially in the gloriously wooded country which lies about Leith +Hill.</p> + +<p>The foliage, the occasional scent of burning wood--always a talisman for one +who has slept in the open--glimpses of new-fallowed fields of an exquisite +rose-madder hue, bracken and heather underfoot, and overhead blue sky sweetly +diversified by snowy piles of cloud--these and a thousand other natural +delights combined to enlarge one's heart, ease one's mind, and arouse one's +dormant instinct to live, to laugh, and to enjoy. Worries rolled back from me. +I responded jovially to Heron's grim quips, and felt more heartily alive than I +had felt for years.</p> + +<p>Having walked swingingly for four or five hours we sat down in a pleasant +inn to a nondescript meal, at something like the eighteenth-century dining +hour; consuming large quantities of cold boiled beef, salad, cheese, home-baked +bread, and brown ale. (I had learned now to drink beer, on such occasions as +this, at all events; and did it with a childish sense of holiday 'swagger.' Its +associations with rural life pleased me. But in the town I was annoyed to find +that even half a glass of it was apt to make my head ache villainously.) We sat +and smoked, talking lazily in the twilight; missed one train, and walked +leisurely to the next station to catch a later one.</p> + +<p>The approach to London rather chilled and saddened me by the sharp demand it +seemed to make for the laying aside of calm reflection or cheerful +conversation, and the taking up of stern realities, practical +considerations--the hard, concrete facts of daily life. The outlines of the +huddled houses, the moving lights of thronged streets, the Town-- It seemed to +grip me by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Come! Wake up from your fancies. Been laughing, joking, chatting, drawing +deep breaths, have you? Ah, well, here am I. You know me. Hear the ring of the +hurrying horses' feet on my hard ways? See the anxious ferret faces of my +workers? I am Reality. I am your master, and the world's master. You may escape +me for a day, and dream you are a free man in the open. Grrrr!--' The train +jars to a standstill. 'That may be well enough for a dream; but I am Reality. +Come! There's no time here for reflection. Pick up your load. Get on; get on; +or I'll smash you down in my gutters, where my human wastage lies!'</p> + +<p>That is how cities have always spoken to me as I have entered them from the +country. And yet--and yet, most of my life has been spent within their +confines. Long imprisonment makes men fear liberty, they say. But how could a +man fear the kindly country and its liberty for reflection? And, attaining to +it, how could he possibly desire return to the noisy, crowded cells of the +city? Impossible, surely, unless of course the city offered him a living, his +life; and the country--calm and beautiful--refused it. And that perhaps is +rather often the position, for your sedentary man, at all events; your modern, +who cannot dig and is ashamed to beg--a numerous and ever increasing body.</p> + +<p>Big Ben struck the hour of eight as we trundled past into Whitehall on the +top of an omnibus. I thought of Fanny with some self-reproach. She would have +reached the lodgings by about five, and our evening meal hour was seven. I +hoped she had not waited without her meal. I left Heron on the 'bus, for he had +farther than I to go, and hurried along to No. 46 Kent Street--the dingy house +in which we had been living now for a month or more.</p> + +<p>Fanny was not there, and, to my surprise, the landlady told me she had not +been in all day, save for five minutes in the early afternoon, after which she +went out carrying a parcel. I went to my bedroom for an overcoat, as the night +was chilly. I possessed two of these garments at the time--one rather heavy and +warm, the other a light coat. Both were missing from their accustomed pegs.</p> + +<p>'Tcha! Now what does this mean?' I growled to myself; knowing quite well +what it meant. 'And I take holidays in the country! I might have known +better.'</p> + +<p>And with that--all the brightness of the day forgotten now--I hurried out, +bound for Howard Street and Mrs. Pelly's house.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Pelly had no idea as to her daughter's whereabouts. It seemed Fanny +had left her before three o'clock, intending to go home.</p> + +<p>Then began a search of the kind which had become only too familiar with me +of late. I suppose I must have entered upon scores of such dismal quests since +my marriage. First, I visited some twenty or thirty different 'gin-mills.' (In +one of them I stayed a few minutes to eat a piece of bread and cheese.) Then I +went to two police stations, at the two opposite ends of that locality. +Finally, I tramped back to Kent Street, thinking to find Fanny there, and +picturing in advance the condition in which I should find her. The most I +ventured to hope was that she had been able to reach her room without +assistance. But she had not been there at all.</p> + +<p>I went out again into the street, somewhat at a loss. It was now past ten +o'clock. After some hesitation I caught a passing omnibus and journeyed back +towards Howard Street, near which stood a third police station, which I had not +before visited.</p> + +<p>'Wait there a minute, will you?' said the officer to whom my inquiry here +was addressed. A moment later I heard his voice from an adjacent corridor; 'Has +the doctor gone?' it asked. I did not hear the answer. But a minute or two +later a tall man in a frock coat entered the room and walked up to me. I could +see the top of a stethoscope protruding from one of his inner breast-coat +pockets.</p> + +<p>'Name of Freydon?' he said tersely.</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Will you step this way, please, to my room?'</p> + +<p>And, as we passed into an inner room, he wheeled upon me with a look of +grave sympathy in his eyes. 'I have serious news for you, Mr. Freydon; if--if +it is your wife who is here.'</p> + +<p>Then I knew. Something in the doctor's grave eyes and meaning voice told me. +It was not really necessary for me to ask. I knew quite certainly, and had no +wish, no intention to say anything. My subconscious self apparently was bent +upon explicitness. For, next moment, I heard my own voice, some little distance +from me, saying, in quite a low tone:</p> + +<p>'My God! My God! My God!' And then: 'You don't mean that she is dead?'</p> + +<p>But I knew all the time.</p> + +<p>Then I heard the doctor speaking. His body was close to me, but his voice, +like my own, came from some distance away.</p> + +<p>'A woman was brought here by a constable this afternoon ... helpless ... +intoxication.... Did your wife ... is she addicted to drink?' I may have +nodded. 'There was a pawnticket in the name of Freydon.... She passed away less +than an hour ago.... The condition ... heart undoubtedly accelerated ... +alcoholism ... a very short time, in any case.... Medically, an inquest would +be quite unnecessary, but.... Will you come with me, and ...'</p> + +<p>From a long way off now these phrases trickled into my consciousness, the +sense of them somewhat blurred and interrupted by a continuous buzzing noise in +my head. We walked along dead white passages, and down steps. We stopped at +length where a man in uniform stood at a door, which he opened for us at a sign +from the doctor. Inside, a woman was bending over a low pallet, and on the +little bed was my wife Fanny. A greyish sheet was drawn over her body to the +chin. I think it was so drawn up as we entered the room. I stared down upon +Fanny's calm, white face, in which there was now a refinement, a pathetic +dignity, a something delicate and womanly which I had not seen there before; +not even in the early days, when gentle prettiness had been its quality.</p> + +<p>The thought that flashed through my mind as I stood there was not the sort +of thought that would be associated with such a scene. The buzzing noise was +still going on in my head, but yet I was conscious of a vast silence all about +me; and looking down upon my wife's face, I thought:</p> + +<p>'Death has certainly been courteous, considerate, to poor Fanny.'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="MANHOOD--E1" id="MANHOOD--E1">MANHOOD--ENGLAND: SECOND +PERIOD</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>My wife was buried in Kensal Green cemetery, a populous London city of the +dead. And that afternoon I resigned my position on the staff of the +<em>Advocate</em>.</p> + +<p>I do not think that even at the time I had any definite reason for this +step, and I do not know of any now. I remember Arncliffe remonstrated very +kindly with me, spoke of plans he had in view for me, about which he was unable +to enter into detail just then, and strongly urged me to reconsider the matter. +I told him, without much relevance really, that I had buried my wife that +morning; and he, very naturally, said he had not even known I was a married +man.</p> + +<p>'Look here, Freydon,' he said; 'be guided by me. Take a month's holiday, and +then come and talk to me again.'</p> + +<p>This was no doubt both wise and kindly advice, but I merely repeated that I +must leave; and, within a week or two, I did leave, Arncliffe, in the most +friendly way, making things easy for me, and agreeing to take a certain +contribution from me once a week. This gave me three guineas a week, and I was +grateful for the arrangement.</p> + +<p>'You must let me see something of you occasionally. I'm really sorry to lose +you. You know I've always appreciated your suggestions,' said Arncliffe, when I +looked in to bid him good-bye. He spoke with a friendly sincerity which I +valued; because it was a fact that he had, as editor, adopted and developed a +good many suggestions of mine, without apparent acknowledgment, and after +keeping them in his pigeon-holes until, as I thought, he had forgotten their +existence, and come to think the ideas subsequently acted upon were his own.</p> + +<p>With funds in hand amounting to something well under twenty pounds, I took +lodgings on the outskirts of Dorking--a bedroom and a sitting-room in the +rather pretty cottage of a jobbing carpenter and joiner named Gilchrist. Mrs. +Gilchrist, a wholesome, capable woman, performed some humble duties in the +church close by, in which she made use of a very long-handled feather duster, +and sundry cloths of a blue and white checked pattern. Her husband had a small +workshop in the cottage garden, but his work more often than not took him away +from home during the day. Jasmine and a crimson rambler strayed about the +window of my little study, from which the view of the surrounding hills was +delightful. For some days I explored the neighbourhood assiduously. And then I +began to write my fourth book. The third--a volume of short stories of mean +streets, written in the days preceding my marriage--was then passing through +the press.</p> + +<p>When I first went to Dorking my health was in a very poor way. I imagine I +must at the time have been on the verge of a pretty bad breakdown. The +preceding six or eight months had greatly aggravated my digestive troubles, and +I had also suffered a good deal from neuralgia. The constantly increasing +stress of my domestic affairs, superimposed upon steady sedentary work in which +the quest for new ideas was a continuous preoccupation, and combined with the +effects of an irregular and indifferent dietary and lack of air and exercise, +had reduced me physically to a low ebb.</p> + +<p>During those last weeks in London, after Fanny's death, I was not conscious +of this collapse; and my first week in Dorking had a curiously stimulating +effect upon me. Indeed, I fancy that week was the saving of me. But at the end +of it, after one long day's writing, I took to my bed with influenza, and +remained there for some time, dallying also with bronchitis, incipient +pneumonia, gastritis, and a diphtheritic throat.</p> + +<p>Six weeks passed before I left my bedroom, but during only one of those +weeks did I fail to produce my weekly contribution to the <em>Advocate</em>. If +the quality of those contributions in any way reflected my low and febrile +condition, Arncliffe mercifully refrained from drawing my attention to it. At +the end of the six weeks I sat at an open window, amused by the ghostly +refinement of my hands, and grateful to Providence for sunshine and clean +air.</p> + +<p>The doctor was a cheery soul, toward whom I felt most strongly drawn, +because he was the only man I ever met in England who smoked my particular +brand of Virginia plug tobacco. I had suffered from the lack of it since +leaving Australia, but this good doctor told me how to get it in England, from +an agent in Yorkshire; and I was deeply grateful to him for the information. He +also told me, as I sat at the open window, that he did not think much of my +stewardship of my own body.</p> + +<p>'Let me tell you, Mr. Freydon, you have been sailing several points closer +to the wind than a man has any right to sail. If you treated a child so, or a +servant, aye, or a dumb beast, some preventive society would be at you for +cruelty and neglect. They'd call me for the prosecution, and by gad, sir, my +evidence would send you to Portland or Dartmoor--fine healthy places, both of +'em, by the way! But people seem to think they're licensed to treat their own +bodies with any amount of cruelty and neglect. A grave mistake; a grave +mistake! In the ideal state, sir, Citizen Jones will no more be allowed to +maltreat and injure the health of Citizen Jones than he will be allowed to +break the head or poison the food of Citizen Smith. Why should he? Each is of +the same value in the eyes of the state; and, we may suppose, in the eyes of +his Maker.'</p> + +<p>The good man blew his nose, and endeavoured to introduce extreme severity +into his kindly and indomitably cheerful expression.</p> + +<p>'Yes, sir,' he resumed. 'You've got to turn over a new leaf from now on. +Three good, plain meals a day, taken to the stroke of the clock. Eight hours in +bed every night of your life, and nine if you can get 'em. Two hours of +walkin', or other equally good exercise--if you can discover its equal; I +can't--in the open air every day. And anything less will be a flat dereliction +of duty, and bad citizenship, remember that. This is for by and by, of course. +Just now you want twelve hours in bed, and half a dozen light meals a day. Mrs. +Gilchrist knows all about that. Good, sensible woman, Mrs. Gilchrist. Wish +there were more like her, these days. Oh, I'll be seeing you again, from time +to time. Don't you bother your head about "accounts," my dear sir. And when you +begin to get about now do oblige me by remembering your duty to yourself, as +I've told you. As your doctor, I warn you, it's necessary in your +case--absolutely necessary. <em>Good</em>-morning!'</p> + +<p>And so he trotted off to his high dog-cart and his morning rounds. An +excellent and kindly man, designed by Nature, his own temperament, and long +use, for the precise part in life he played. Such adequacy and fitness are +rare, and very admirable. I sometimes think that if I could have exactly obeyed +this excellent physician, my whole life had been quite different. But then, to +be able exactly to obey him, perhaps it would have been necessary for me to +have been a different person in the beginning. And then, I might never have met +him, and--there's the end of a profitless speculation.</p> + +<p>As a fact I surreptitiously resumed work on that book long before the doctor +gave permission, and within a week of settling his account I was once more +living a life of which he would have strongly disapproved; though it certainly +was a very much less wearing and unwholesome one than the life I had always +lived in London. But, as against that, I now had a good deal less in the way of +staying power and force of resistance. So far from having paid up in full, and +wiped off all old scores, in the matter of those first years in London, I had +barely discharged the first instalment of a penalty which was to prove part and +parcel of every subsequent year in my life. And yet, as I have said, I +sometimes think that doctor gave me my chance, if only it had been in me to +live by his instructions. But, apparently, it was not.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Sidney Heron, the man who had introduced me to the country round about Leith +Hill, was the first visitor received in my Dorking lodging. He came one +Saturday morning when I had resumed work (though the doctor knew it not), and +returned to town on the Sunday night.</p> + +<p>I think Heron enjoyed his visit, though, out of consideration for my lack of +condition, he walked less than he would have chosen. It was a real pleasure to +me to have him there; and, in the retrospect, I can clearly see that I was +powerfully stimulated by talk with him on literary subjects. So much was this +so, that on the Saturday night when I lay down in bed I found my brain in a +ferment of activity. I read for half an hour; but even then, after blowing out +my candle, the plots of new books, ideas for future work, literary schemes of +every sort and kind, all promising quite remarkable success, were spinning +through my mind in most exhilarating fashion. The morning found me somewhat +weary, though not unpleasantly so; and consideration of all this made me +realise, as I had not realised before, the isolation and retirement of my life +there in Dorking; the very marked change it represented from the busy routine +of days spent in the <em>Advocate</em> office. I prized my retirement more than +ever after this.</p> + +<p>'For,' I thought, 'of what use or purport was all that ceaseless mental +stress and fret in London? It was all quite barren and fruitless, really. +Whereas, here--one can develop thoughts here. This life makes creative work +possible.'</p> + +<p>I am afraid I gave no credit to Heron, or to the stimulating effects upon my +own mind of contact with his bracing, if somewhat harsh, intelligence. All was +attributed by me at the time to the advantages of my sequestered life. The +effect of mental stimulus was not by any means so evanescent as such things +often are, and the Monday following upon Heron's return to town saw me hard at +work upon the book which I had outlined and begun before my illness.</p> + +<p>There followed, in that modest little cottage room of mine, some three or +four months of incessant work at high pressure; long days, and nights, too, at +the table, during which my only exercise and relaxation in a week would be an +occasional five minutes' walk to the post-office, or a stroll after midnight, +when I found the cool night silence soothed me greatly before going to my +bedroom. The doctor's counsels were all forgotten, of course, or remembered +only in odd moments, as when going to bed, or shaving in the morning. Then I +would promise myself reformation when the book was finished. That done I would +live by rote and acquire bucolic health, I told myself.</p> + +<p>In most respects that period was thoroughly typical of my life during the +next half dozen years. When the end of a book was reached, there came the long +and wearing process of its revision. Then interviews with publishers, the +correction of proof sheets, the excogitation of writings for magazines--fuel +for the fire that kept my pot a-boiling. There were intervals of acute mental +weariness, and there were intervals of acute bodily distress. But the intervals +of reformed living, when they came at all, were too brief and spasmodic to make +a stronger or a healthier man of me. My business visits to London were +sometimes made to embrace friendly visits to Sidney Heron's lodgings. Two or +three times I dined with Arncliffe, and very occasionally I was visited at +Dorking by two of the literary journalists who had joined Arncliffe's staff at +the time of his appointment.</p> + +<p>With but very few exceptions the critics were very kindly to my published +work, and I apprehend that other writers who read their reviews of my books +must have thought of me as one of the coming men. (The early nineties was a +prolific period in the matter of 'coming men.') I even indulged that thought +myself for a time. But not, I think, for very long. Like every other writer who +ever lived, I would have liked to reach a large and appreciative audience. But +I had the most lofty scorn for the methods by which I supposed such an +achievement might be accomplished.</p> + +<p>For a long time I sincerely believed that it was not from any lack of +substance, style, merit, or quality that my books failed to reach a really +large public; but, rather, that they were without a certain vulgarity which +would commend them to the multitude. If not precisely that they were too good, +I doubtless thought that, whilst good in every literary sense, they happened to +be couched in a vein only to be appreciated by the subtler minds of the +minority. The critics certainly helped me to sustain this congenial theory; and +it was not until long afterwards that I accepted (with more, perhaps, of +sadness or sourness than philosophy) the conclusion that if my work never had +appealed to a big audience, the simple reason was that it was not big enough to +reach so far. It was perhaps, within the limits of literary judgment, to some +extent praiseworthy. And it won praise. I should have been content.</p> + +<p>I certainly was not content, and I dare say the life I led was too far +removed from the normal, both socially and from a health standpoint, to permit +of content for me, quite apart from any question of personal temperament or +idiosyncrasy. I worked and I slept, and that was all. That is probably not +enough for the purchase of healthy content; at all events, where the work is +sedentary and productive of strain upon the mind, nerves, and emotions.</p> + +<p>As society is constituted in England to-day, a man of my sort may be almost +as completely isolated, socially, in a place like Dorking as he would expect to +be in the middle of the Sahara. The labouring sort of folk, the trades-people, +and the landowners and county families, each form compact social microcosms. +The latter class, in normal circumstances, remains not so much indifferent to +as unaware of the existence of such people as myself, as bachelors in +country-town lodgings. The other two compact little worlds had nothing to offer +me socially. And so, socially, I had no existence at all.</p> + +<p>The same holds good, to a great extent, of my sort of person practically +anywhere to-day. (The latter part of the nineteenth century produced a quite +large number of people who belonged to no recognised class or order in our +social cosmos.) But it is most noticeable in the case of such a man living in a +country town. In London, or Paris, or New York, there is no longer any question +of a man being in or out of society, since there is no longer any compact +division of the community which forms society. Rather, the community divides +itself into hundreds of circles, most of which meet others at some point of +their circumference.</p> + +<p>My doctor in Dorking was a bachelor. I did not attend any church. There +literally was no person in that district with whom I held any social +intercourse whatever. And then, by chance, and in a single day, I became +acquainted with many of the socially superior sort of people in my +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Arncliffe's chief leader writer on the <em>Advocate</em> staff was a man +called Ernest Lane, who, after winning considerable distinction at Oxford, +falsified cynical anticipations by winning a good deal more distinction in the +world outside the university. It was known that he had been invited to submit +himself to the electors of a constituency in one of the Home counties, and his +work while secretary to a prominent statesman had earned him a high reputation +in political circles. His book on greater British legislation and +administration added greatly to this reputation, and his friends were rather +surprised when Lane showed that he intended to stick to the writer's life +rather than enter parliament, or accept any political appointment. Without +having become very intimate, Lane and myself had been distinctly upon good and +friendly terms during my time in the <em>Advocate</em> office, and he had +visited me three or four times in my retreat in Dorking. Lane thought well of +my work, and he was the only man I knew whose political conversation and views +had interested me. It was not without some pleasure, therefore, that I read a +letter received from him in which he said he was coming to see me.</p> + +<p>'It appears to be a case of Mohammed coming to the mountain,' this letter +said; 'and, if you will put me up, I should like to spend Saturday and Sunday +nights at your place. I think you will receive an invitation to Sir George and +Lady Barthrop's garden-party on Saturday next, and if so I hope you will +accept, and go there with me. The fact is, one of my sisters is about to marry +Arnold Barthrop, the younger of the three sons, and the whole tribe of us are +supposed to be there this week-end. I am not keen on these big house-parties, +and would far sooner have the opportunity of seeing something of you if you +would care to have me; but I have promised to attend the garden-party, and to +bring you if I can. Some of the Barthrop's Dorking friends are rather +interesting people, so it will be just as well for you, my dear hermit, to make +their acquaintance.'</p> + +<p>Of course, I wrote to Lane to the effect that he would be very welcome, +which was perfectly true; but I was somewhat exercised in my mind regarding +Lady Barthrop's garden-party, although, when her card of invitation reached me, +I replied at once with a formal acceptance. Sir George Barthrop's house, Deene +Place, was quite one of the show places of the district, and the baronet and +his lady were very prominent people indeed in that part of the county.</p> + +<p>Every time my eye fell upon the invitation card, I was conscious of a sense +of irritation and disturbance. What had I to do with garden-parties? The idea +of my attending such a function was absurd. I should have nothing whatever in +common with the people there, nor they with me. Either I should never again +meet one of them, or their acquaintance would be an irritation and a nuisance +to me, robbing me of my treasured sense of complete independence in that +countryside. Finally, I decided that I would have a headache when the time +came, and get Lane to make my excuses-- 'Not that the hostess, or any one else +there, would know or care anything about my absence or presence,' I thought.</p> + +<p>But my unsocial intention was airily swept aside by Ernest Lane. I did +accompany him to Deene Place, and in due course was presented by him to Sir +George and Lady Barthrop. No sooner had we left the host and hostess to make +way for other guests than Lane touched my elbow.</p> + +<p>'Here's the first of the five Graces,' he whispered, nodding towards a lady +who was walking down the terrace in our direction. I remembered that my friend +had five sisters, and a moment later I was being introduced to this particular +member of the sisterhood, whose name, as I gathered, was Cynthia. As Lane moved +away from us just then, to speak to some one else, I asked my companion if she +had been going to any particular place when we met her. She smiled as we walked +slowly down the terrace steps to the lawn.</p> + +<p>'I am afraid my only object just then was the ungracious one of evading Sir +George and Lady Barthrop,' she said. 'Theirs is such a dreadfully busy +neighbourhood. I think being solemnly introduced to a stream of people is +rather a terrible ordeal, don't you?'</p> + +<p>'The experience would at least have the advantage of novelty for me,' I told +her. 'But, upon the whole, I fancy I should perhaps prefer a visit to the +dentist.'</p> + +<p>'Really!' she laughed. 'Now I didn't know men ever felt like that. It's +exactly how I feel about it. It really is worse than dentistry, you know, +because you are not allowed gas.'</p> + +<p>'At least, not laughing gas, but only gaseous laughter and small talk,' I +suggested.</p> + +<p>'Which makes you all hazy and muddled without the compensating boon of +unconsciousness. But you are an author and a journalist, Mr. Freydon--my +brother often speaks of you, you know--and so you must have had lots of +experience of this sort of thing; enough to have made you as hardened as +royalty, I should think. I always think of authors and journalists as living +very much in the limelight.'</p> + +<p>I explained that some might, but that I had spent several years in Dorking +without, until that day, attending a single social function of any kind. This +seemed to interest her greatly, once I had overcome her initial incredulity on +the point. Then I had to answer questions about my way of living, and one or +two, of a discreet and gently curious kind, about my methods of working, and +the like. There was flattery of the most delightful kind in the one or two +casual references she made to characters in books of mine. Miss Lane never +said: 'I have read your books,' or, 'I have been interested by your books,' +statements which always produce an awkward pause, and are not interesting in +themselves. But she showed in a much more pleasing way that one's work had +entered into her life, and been welcomed by her.</p> + +<p>Quite apart from this, I do not think I could possibly have spent a quarter +of an hour with Cynthia Lane without concluding that she was the most charming +woman I had ever met. 'Charming woman,' I say. Heavens! How extraordinarily +inadequate these threadbare words do look, as I write them, recalling the image +of Cynthia Lane as she paced with me across that smooth-shaven lawn--green +velvet it seemed, deeply shaded here and there by noble copper beeches.</p> + +<p>I suppose Cynthia was beautiful, even judged by technical standards; for her +figure was lissom and very shapely, and the contour of her sweet face +perfect--so far, at least, as I am any judge of such matters. Her eyes and her +hair had a rare loveliness which I have not seen equalled. But it was the soul +of her, the indefinable essence that was Cynthia Lane, which made her truly +lovely. This personality of hers, at once tender and adroit, bright and grave, +humorous and most sweetly gentle, most admirably kind, shone out upon one from +her face, from her very movements and gestures even, giving to her outward +person a soft radiance which I cannot attempt to describe. This nimbus of +delicate sweetness, this irradiation of her person by her personality it was, +which made Cynthia Lane lovely, as no other woman I have met has been.</p> + +<p>I must have stolen fully half an hour of her time that day, to the annoyance +it may be of many other people. And it was not until she was being in a sense +almost forcibly drawn away from me by the claims of others that I learned, from +the manner in which she was addressed by Lady Barthrop, that she, Cynthia Lane, +of whom I had thought only as one of Lane's five sisters, as one among my own +fellow guests, was indeed the guest of the occasion, and the betrothed of Lady +Barthrop's younger son.</p> + +<p>Other things happened, no doubt. I was presently introduced to young +Barthrop, the bridegroom to be; and, mechanically, I endeavoured to comport +myself fittingly as a guest. But, for me, the entertainment ended with my +separation from Cynthia.</p> + +<p>'Do please stop being a recluse, and call while I am here,' she had said as +she was being drawn away from me into a sort of maelstrom of gaily coloured +dresses, and laughing, compliment-paying men. And I blessed her for that.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Charles Augustus Everard Barthrop, third son of the baronet and his wife, +was the assistant manager of some financial company in London, of which his +father was a director. I fancy the young man himself was also a director, but +am not sure as to that. In any case he had the reputation of being one who was +likely to achieve big things in the world of finance and company promotion, a +world of which I was as profoundly ignorant as though a dweller in the planet +Mars. In another field, too, this young man had won early distinction. He was a +mighty footballer, and a rather notable boxer. He was very blonde, very +handsome, very large, and, I gathered, of a very merry and kindly disposition. +He looked it. His sunny face and bright blue eyes contained no more evidence of +care or anxiety than one sees in the face of a healthy boy of twelve.</p> + +<p>'Here is a man,' I thought, 'peculiarly rich in everything that I lack; and +all his life long he has been equally rich in his possession of everything I +have lacked. And now he is going to marry Cynthia Lane. The rest seems natural +enough, but not this.'</p> + +<p>As yet I had little enough of evidence on which to base conclusions. But, as +I saw it, Charles Barthrop was a handsome and materially well-endowed young +animal, whose work was company-promoting, and whose diversions hardly took him +beyond football and the Gaiety Theatre. I dare say it was partly because he was +so refulgently well-dressed that I assumed him devoid of intellect. As a fact, +my assumption was not very wide of the mark.</p> + +<p>'And Cynthia,' I thought, 'has a mind and a soul. She <em>is</em> mind and +soul encased, as it happens, in a beautiful body. She is no more a mate for him +than a great poet would be mate for a handsome fishwife; an Elizabeth Barrett +Browning for a champion pugilist.'</p> + +<p>It was natural that, during that Saturday evening and the following day, +conversation between Lane and myself should turn more than once towards his +sister Cynthia and her forthcoming marriage, which, I understood, was to take +place within a few weeks at St. Margaret's, Westminster. We had become fairly +intimate of late, Lane and myself, and the introduction to various members of +his family seemed to have made us much more intimate.</p> + +<p>'You have made no end of an impression on Miss Cynthia,' he said pleasantly +on the Saturday evening. 'She was always the literary and artistic member of +the sisterhood. She gave me special instructions to bring you along in time for +some tea to-morrow, and she means to force you out of your hermitage while she +is at Deene Place, so I warn you. Seriously, I think, it may be good for you. +You will be sure to meet some decent people there, who will be worth knowing, +not only just now, but when Cynthia is married and set up in Sloane Street. +Barthrop has taken a house there, you know.'</p> + +<p>With a duplicity not very creditable to me, I pretended thoughtful +agreement. A brother can tell one a good deal without putting his information +into plain words. I gathered from our talk then, and on the following day, that +the Lane family occupied the difficult position of people who have, as it were, +been born to greater riches than they possess. Of them more had always been +expected, socially, than their straitened means permitted. The pinch had been a +very real one of late years, towards the end of the grand struggle which their +parents had passed through in educating and launching a family of two sons and +five daughters. It was easy to gather that good marriages were very necessary +for those five daughters, of whom Cynthia was the first-born. I even gathered +that, a year or two earlier, there had been scenes and grave anxiety over a +preference which Cynthia had shown for a painter, poor as a church mouse, who, +very considerately, had proceeded to die of a fever in Southern Italy. Mrs. +Lane had, to a large extent, arranged the forthcoming marriage with Charles +Barthrop, I think. In the interests of the whole family Cynthia had been +'sensible'; she had been brought to see reason.</p> + +<p>'And, mind you,' said Lane, 'I do think Barthrop is an excellent chap, you +know. Oh, yes; he's quite a cut above your average city man. And a +kinder-hearted chap you never met. The pater swears by him.'</p> + +<p>I gathered that 'the pater' had been given the most useful information and +guidance in financial matters by this Apollo of Throgmorton Street.</p> + +<p>'He's modest, too,' continued Lane, 'which is unusual in his type, I think. +He told me his favourite reading was detective stories, outside the sporting +and financial news, of course; but he has the greatest respect for Cynthia's +literary tastes-- You know she has published some verse? Yes. Not in book form, +but in some of the better magazines. Oh, yes, Barthrop's a good chap: +simple-minded, a shade gross, too, perhaps, in some ways. These chaps in the +city do themselves too well, I think. But quite a good chap, and sure to make +an excellent husband. I fancy his kind do, you know--no tension, no fret, no +introspection.'</p> + +<p>Again I made signs of agreement which were not strictly honest.</p> + +<p>On Sunday afternoon we both drank our tea under the copper beeches at Deene +Place. I deliberately monopolised Cynthia's attention as long as I possibly +could, and then devoted myself to the cold-blooded study of the man she was to +marry. I found him very good-natured, gifted with abundant high spirits, +agreeably modest, and, as it seemed to me, intellectually about on a par with a +race-horse or a handsome St. Bernard dog.</p> + +<p>'Cynthia tells me we are to bully you into coming out of your hermitage,' he +said to me with a sunny smile. 'A good idea, too, you know. After all, being a +recluse can't be good for one's health; and I suppose if a man isn't fit, it +tells--er--even in literary work, doesn't it?'</p> + +<p>I felt towards him as one feels towards some bright, handsome schoolboy. And +yet, in many ways, I doubt not he had more of wisdom than I had. I had spoken +to Cynthia of Leith Hill, and she had said that, when staying at Deene Place, +she walked almost every day either on the hill or the common. Upon that I had +relinquished her attention with a fair grace.</p> + +<p>Of course, I was entirely unused to the amenities of society. I used no +subterfuges, and made no attempt to disguise my interest in Cynthia, or to +pretend to other interests. I dare say my directness was smiled upon, as part +of the eccentricity of these literary people; one of Ernest's friends, quite a +recluse, and so forth. I gathered as much a little later on.</p> + +<p>Looking back upon it I must suppose that my conduct during the next week or +so would be condemned by most right-thinking people as ungentlemanly and even +dishonourable. I have no inclination to defend it; and I could not affirm that, +at the time, I loved honour more than Cynthia Lane. To speak the naked truth, I +believe I would have committed forgery, if by doing so I could have won Cynthia +for my wife. The one and only way in which I showed any discretion (and that, +not from any moral scruple, but purely as a matter of tactics) was in +withholding any open declaration to Cynthia herself.</p> + +<p>My feeling was that my chance of a life's happiness was confined to the +cruelly short period of a week or two. There was no time for taking risks. +There must be no refusals. I must use my time, every day of it, I thought, in +the effort to win her heart; and trust to the very end to win her consent. I +availed myself fully of my advantage in living in Dorking while my rival spent +his days in London. The obstacles in my path were such as to justify me in +grasping every possible advantage within reach, I told myself. Every day we +met. Every day I walked and talked with Cynthia. Every day love possessed me +more utterly. And, I believe I may say it, every day Cynthia drew nearer to me. +No word did I breathe of marriage; that which was arranged, or that which I +desired. It seemed to me that every available moment must be given to the +moulding of her heart, to preparation for the last crucial test, when I should +ask her to sacrifice everything, and cross the Channel and the Rubicon with +me.</p> + +<p>There is no need for me to burke the words. Cynthia did love me when she +left Dorking for her parents' house in London; not, perhaps, with the absorbing +passion she had inspired in me; yet well enough, as I was assured, to face +social disaster and a break with her family, in order that she might entrust +her life to me.</p> + +<p>'Cynthia,' I said, at the end of that last walk, 'London is not to rob me of +you? Promise me!'</p> + +<p>'If you call me, I will come,' she said, looking at me through tears, and +well I knew that perfect truth shone in those dear eyes.</p> + +<p>Regarding this as the most serious undertaking of my life, I had endeavoured +to overlook nothing. I had obtained a marriage licence. A London registrar's +office was to serve our purpose. I had previously secured a temporary lodging +in London, and now went there with my luggage. Love did not blind me to +practical considerations. While Cynthia was still in Dorking I had no time to +spare. Now that she was entangled in her own home among last preparations for +the wedding that was not to be, I turned my attention to matters affecting her +future life with me.</p> + +<p>Three afternoon appointments I kept with Arncliffe in the <em>Advocate</em> +office. When I left him after our third talk, I was definitely re-engaged as a +member of his staff, at a salary of six hundred pounds per annum, having +promised to take up my duties with him in one month from that date. Every nerve +in my body had been keyed to the attainment of this result, and I was grateful, +and not a little flattered by its achievement. I was still a poor man; but this +salary, with the few hundred pounds I might hope to add to it in a year, by +means of independent literary work, would at all events mean that Cynthia need +not face actual discomfort in her life with me. Further, I sincerely believed +(and may very well have been correct in this) that her influence upon me would +enlarge the scope and appeal of my literary work. I realised clearly that my +beautiful lady-love had very much to give me. My life till then had not +entirely lacked culture or intellectuality. But it emphatically had lacked that +grace, that element of gentle fineness and delicacy which Cynthia would give +it.</p> + +<p>Cynthia, who in giving me herself would give all that I desired which my +life had lacked, should come to me empty-handed, I thought. I did not want her +to borrow from out the life which for my sake she was relinquishing. On the day +before that fixed upon for the wedding at St. Margaret's, she should come to me +in the park, near her home. There would be quite another sort of wedding, and +by the evening train we would leave for the Continent. Every detail was +arranged for. We met on the afternoon of the preceding day. I put my whole fate +to the test, and Cynthia never wavered. We arranged to meet at two o'clock next +day.</p> + +<p>On the morning itself, just before noon, I hurried out from my lodging upon +a final errand, intending to change my clothes and lock my bags, upon my +return, within half an hour. My papers were in the pockets of the clothes I +intended to wear, and a supply of money was left locked in my handbag. The most +important moment of my life was at hand, and, as I walked down the crowded +Strand into Fleet Street, I was conscious of such a measure of exaltation as I +had never known before that day.</p> + +<p>And then, for the second time in my life, brute force intervened, and made +utter havoc of all my plans and prospects. Crossing Fleet Street, close to +Chancery Lane, the pole of an omnibus struck my shoulder and flung me several +yards along the road. The driver of a hansom cab shouted aloud as he jerked his +horse to its haunches to avoid running over me. And in that moment, pawing +wildly, the horse struck the back of my head with one of his fore feet.</p> + +<p>For the second time in my life I lay in a hospital, suffering from +concussion of the brain. Almost twelve hours passed before I first regained +consciousness, and the morning of the following day was well advanced before I +was able to inform the hospital authorities of my identity. No papers, nothing +but a handful of silver, had been found in my pockets.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock that morning there was solemnised at St. Margaret's Church +the marriage of Cynthia and Charles Barthrop.</p> + +<p>'If you call, I will come.'</p> + +<p>But I had not called. I had even left Cynthia to pace to and fro through an +afternoon in the park; at that most critical juncture in both our lives I had +failed her. In a brief letter, posted to an address given me by her brother, I +acquainted Cynthia with the facts of my accident, and nothing more than the +facts.</p> + +<p>In ten days I was out of the hospital; and Cynthia, another man's wife, was +in Norway.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I dare say no place would have looked very attractive to me when I came out +from that hospital; but London and my lodging in it did seem past all bearing +unattractive. The Dorking lodging had been definitely relinquished, and in any +case I had no wish now to see Dorking, Leith Hill, or the common.</p> + +<p>Knowing practically nothing of my native land outside its capital, I packed +a small bag at my lodging, and walked to the nearest large railway station, +which happened to be Paddington. Arrived there, I spent some dull moments in +staring at way-bills, and finally took a ticket at a venture for Salisbury. +There I found a quiet lodging, and spent the evening in idly wandering about +the cathedral close.</p> + +<p>The next day found me tramping over short turf--turf more ancient than the +cathedral--in the neighbourhood of Stonehenge. And so I spent the better part +of a fortnight, greatly to the benefit I dare say of my bodily health. I shall +always love the tiny hamlets of that sun and wind-washed countryside, between +Warminster, Andover, Stockbridge, and Salisbury. Yet always they will be +associated in my mind with a bowing down sense of loneliness, of empty, +unredeemed sadness, and of irretrievable loss. I cannot pretend that I +experienced any sense of remorse or penitence, where my abortive attempt to win +another man's bride was concerned. I had no such feeling. But, discreditable as +that fact may be, it did not make the aching sorrow that possessed me any the +less real.</p> + +<p>I was conscious of no remorse, and yet, God knows my state of mind was +humble enough, though too sombre and despairing to be called resigned. I +believe that in the retrospect my loss seemed more, a great deal more to me, +than just a lover's loss; though upon that score alone I was smitten to the +very dust. It was rather as though, at the one blow, I had lost my heart's +desire and a fortune and a position in the world; or, at least, that these had +been snatched from my grasp in the moment of becoming mine.</p> + +<p>I do not think I could ever explain this to any one else; since I suppose +that in the monetary sense the rupture of my plans left me the better off. But +I, who had always been something of an outlier in the social sense, an unplaced +wanderer bearing the badge of no particular caste, I had grown in some way to +feel that marriage with Cynthia would in this sense bring me to an anchorage, +and admit me to a definite place of my own in the complex world of London. The +idea was not wholly unreasonable. I had lived very rapidly in those few +critical weeks. Years of hope, endeavour, determination, and emotional +experience, I had crowded into my last days in Dorking. And through it all I +had been upheld and exalted by a pervasive conviction (which I apprehend is not +part of the ordinary lover's capital) that now, at length, I was to know peace, +rest, content; the calm, glad realisation of all the vague yearnings and +strivings which had spurred me to strenuousness, to unceasing effort, all my +life long.</p> + +<p>Cynthia had been the object of my love, of my passionate adoration, indeed. +But she had also been a great deal more. When she had bowed her beautiful head +to my wooing, when she had promised that upon my call she would come, she had +(all unconsciously, of course) become more than my beloved. She became for me +the actual embodiment, the incarnate end, aim, and reward of all the strivings +of my lonely life, from the night of my flight from St. Peter's Orphanage down +to that very day. In my rapt contemplation of her, of the personality which +enthralled me far, far more than her beautiful person could, I smiled over +recollection of my bitter struggles in London slums, of the heart-racking +anxiety and grinding humiliation of life with poor Fanny. I smiled happily at +that squalid vista as at some trifling inconvenience by the way, too small to +be remembered as an obstacle in my path toward the all-sufficing and radiant +peace of union with Cynthia.</p> + +<p>'Now I see why all my life has been worth while,' I told myself on the eve +of the clumsy, brutal blow of Fate's hand that had for ever robbed me of +Cynthia.</p> + +<p>In the living, the end had sometimes seemed too hopelessly far off to +justify the wearing strain of the means. There had been so little refreshment +by the way. But with Cynthia's promise there had come to me an all-embracing +certainty that my whole life had been justified; that the end and reward of all +my struggles was actually in my hands; that I now had arrived, and was about to +step definitely out from the ranks of the striving, unsatisfied, hungry +outliers, into the serene company of those whose faces shine with the light of +assured happiness; of those who fight and struggle no longer; for the reason +that they have found their allotted place in life, and are at anchor within the +haven of their ambitions.</p> + +<p>I may have been very greatly to blame in my passionate wooing of another +man's affianced wife; but, at least, I believe that my loss of Cynthia was a +far greater and more crushing loss for me than the loss of any woman could +possibly have been for Charles Barthrop. For me, she had stood for all life +held that was desirable--the sum and plexus of my aims. For Barthrop there were +his keenly relished sports and pastimes, his host of friends, his family, his +luxurious and well-defined place in the world--not to mention the city of +London.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>When I left the spacious purlieus of Salisbury, it was to engage +chambers--bedroom, sitting-room, and bathroom--in a remodelled adjunct to one +of the Inns of Court. Here my arrangement was that a simple breakfast should be +served to me each day in my sitting-room, and that I was free to obtain my +other meals wherever I might choose. Thus provided for in the matter of a place +of residence, I resumed the discarded journalistic life, as a member of the +<em>Advocate's</em> editorial staff, in accordance with the engagement entered +into with Arncliffe, when I believed I had been arranging to secure an income +for Cynthia and myself.</p> + +<p>Before renting these rooms I had called upon Sidney Heron, and invited him +to share a set of chambers with me.</p> + +<p>'No,' he said, in his blunt way, 'I'd rather keep you as a friend.'</p> + +<p>I dare say he was right; and, in any case, he had a fancy for living at a +good distance from the centre of the town; whereas my own inclination was to +avoid the town altogether, if that might be, and failing this to have one's +sanctuary right in the centre of it. My chambers were within five minutes' walk +of the <em>Advocate</em> office, and not much more than half that distance from +the Thames Embankment--a spot which interested me as much as its lively +neighbour, the Strand, irritated and worried me. An uneasy, shoddy street I +thought the Strand, full of insistent tawdriness and of broken-spirited folk +whose wretchedness had something in it more despicable than pitiable. Save for +its occasional gaping rustics (whom I thought sadly misguided to be there at +all) I cordially hated the Strand. But the Embankment I regarded as one of the +most romantic thoroughfares in London; and many a score of articles (which +brought me money) do I owe to the inspiration of that broad, darkling, +river-skirted road, and the queer human flotsam and jetsam one may meet with +there.</p> + +<p>Among the direct results of Cynthia Lane's influence, I must place my +interest in politics. I had hardly realised that women had any concern with +politics until I met Cynthia. She was in no sense a politician, but she +followed the political news of the day with the same bright and illuminating +intelligence which she brought to bear upon all the affairs of her life; and +her attitude toward them was informed by a fine patriotism, at once reasoning +and ardent. Chance phrases from her lips had opened my eyes to the existence of +a love for England, for our flag, and race, such as I had not dreamed of till +that time.</p> + +<p>We spoke once or twice of my Australian experiences. And here again +Cynthia's patriotism suggested whole avenues of unsuspected thought and feeling +to me. It was Cynthia who introduced to my mind the conception of the British +Empire, and our race, as a single family, having many branching offshoots. I do +not mean that Cynthia supplied facts or theories hitherto unknown to me. But I +do mean that her woman's mind first made me feel these things, intimately and +personally, as people feel the joys and sorrows of members of their own +households.</p> + +<p>As a result I looked now with changed eyes upon many things. Before, I had +loathed and detested the slums of London, and the vicious, ugly squalor of the +lives of many of their inhabitants; hated them with the bitterness of one who +has been made to feel their poison in his own veins. There had been far more of +loathing than of pity or sorrow in my attitude toward the canker at London's +heart. Gradually, now, because of the insight I had had into Cynthia's love of +England, my view became more kindly. I looked upon the canker less with hatred, +and more with the feeling one might have regarding some horrible and malignant +disease in a son or a daughter, a brother or a sister. And, too, with more of a +sense of responsibility and of shame.</p> + +<p>So, from a lofty and quite ignorant scorn of things so essentially mundane, +I grew to take an understanding interest in current politics, and more +particularly in their wider aspects, as touching not England alone but all +British lands and people. I obtained a press pass from Arncliffe, and attended +an important debate in the House of Commons, subsequently recording my +impressions, in the form of an article by an Outsider, from Australia. +Journalistically, that article was a rather striking success; and I began to +attend the House frequently, and to write more or less regular political +impressions for the <em>Advocate</em>.</p> + +<p>For several years my interest in these matters continued to be progressive. +(Three volumes of a political or quasi-political and sociological character +have appeared under my name.) I am grateful for that interest, because it gave +me some additional hold upon life, at a time when such anchorage as I had had +seemed to have been wrested from me.</p> + +<p>There was a quite considerable period--five or six years, at least, I +think--during which political work tended to broaden my mind, widen my +sympathies, and enhance my esteem for a number of my contemporaries. Beyond +that point I am afraid no good came to me from the study of politics; from +which fact it is probably safe to assume that any influence I exercised ceased +to be beneficial. For a time it had, I think, been helpful in its small way. +That was while faith remained in me.</p> + +<p>I remember conceiving a warm respect for a number of men engaged in +political work as writers, organisers, and speakers. I admired these men for +the fervour with which they appeared to devote their lives to the service of +political ends. I even derived from my conception of their enthusiasm, strong, +almost emotional interest in certain political issues, tendencies, and +developments. Later, as I learned to know the men and their work better, came +rather painful disillusionment. We differed fundamentally, it seemed, these +eloquent fellows and myself. One actually told me in so many words, and with a +cynical smile at his other companion of the moment, as who should say: 'Really, +this innocent needs awakening'; that I was playing the gull's part on the +surface of things. 'We are not concerned with principles,' he said, in effect. +'That may be all right for the groundlings--our audience. Our concern is +parties, office--the historic game of ins and outs, in which we have our +careers to make.'</p> + +<p>Until I put the whole business for ever behind me, I never lost my interest +in issues and principles; neither did I ever acquire one jot or tittle of the +professional's interest in the political game, as such; or endeavour to utilise +its complex machinery for the furtherance of my own career. But in the course +of time the study, not so much of politics as of political life, came to fill +me with a kind of sick weariness and disgust; a sort of dull nausea and shame, +such as I imagine forms one of the penalties for the unfortunate sisterhood, of +what is sardonically called the life of pleasure. Upon the whole, I am afraid +there is a good deal in common between the political life and the life of the +streets. Certainly, the camp followers in political warfare are a motley crew +of mercenaries, and they take their tone from quite a number of their +leaders.</p> + +<p>It would be quite beside the mark to add that there are some fine men in +British politics. There are, of course, in all professions, including (I dare +say) that of burglary. There still are in the political arena gentlemen whose +single aim, pursued with undeviating loftiness of purpose, is the service of +their country. I will not pretend to think their number large, for I know it is +not. (But I dare say it is larger than it will be a few years hence, when we +have pursued a little farther the enlightened ideal of governance by the least +fit for the least fit, by the most poorly equipped for the most poorly +equipped, by the most ignorant and irresponsible for the most ignorant and +irresponsible.) But the class of well-meaning, decent, clean-lived politicians +is a fairly large one. As these worthy if unremarkable men have not a tithe of +the brains of the most prominent among the quite unscrupulous sort--the +undoubted birds of prey--their good intentions are of small value to their +generation or their country, and represent little or nothing in the shape of +hindrance to the skilled pirates of political waters.</p> + +<p>But my personal concern was not so much with the rank and file of actual +politicians as with the great army of camp followers; the band of fine, +whole-souled, well-dressed, fluent fellows, for whom 'something must be done, +you know,' because of this or that interest, because of the alleged wishes of +this great person or the other; and because, above all, of their own quite +wonderful pertinacity, untiring pushfulness, and, of course, their valuable +services and great abilities as talkers, writers, 'organisers,' and what +not.</p> + +<p>I have known men who, for years, had found it worth not less than £800 or +£1000 a year to them to have been spoken of by Mr. ----, Lord ----, or Sir +----, as 'an exceedingly capable organiser, and--er--devoted to the Cause.' No +one ever knew precisely what they had organised (apart from their own +comfortable subsistence in West End clubs and houses) or were to organise; but +there they were, fine fellows all, tastefully dressed, in the best of health +and spirits, and indefatigably fluent in--in--er--the service of the Cause, you +know!</p> + +<p>There was a period in which I fancied these parasites were the monopoly of +one political party. But I soon learned that this was far from being the case. +All the four parties which the twentieth century saw established in parliament +are equally surrounded by their camp followers, who each differ from each other +only superficially, and, not unseldom, transfer their allegiance in pursuit of +fatter game. The differences do impress one at first, but, as I say, they are +mainly superficial. All are equally self-centred and true to type as parasites; +though one brood is better dressed than another, and has a more formidable +appetite. What makes rich pickings for the follower of one camp would leave the +follower of another camp lean and hungry indeed. But the necessary scale of +expenditure being higher in one division than another, things equalise +themselves pretty much. I believe it is much the same in the case of the other +ancient profession I have mentioned.</p> + +<p>I have seen quite a large number of promising young men, fresh from the +Universities, and beginning life in London with high aspirations and genuine +patriotism in their hearts, only to become gradually absorbed into the gigantic +parasitical incubus of the body politic. The process of absorption was none the +less saddening and embittering to watch, because its subjects usually waxed +fatter and more apparently jovial with each stage in their gradual exchange of +ideals for cash, patriotism for nepotism, enthusiasm for cynicism, and +disinterestedness for toadyism. Some had in them the makings of very good and +useful citizens. Their wives, so far as I was able to see, almost invariably +(whether deliberately or unknowingly) egged them on in the downward path to +complete surrender. As a rule, complete surrender meant less striving and +contriving, a better establishment, and a freer use of hansom cabs in place of +omnibuses. (I am thinking for the moment of the days which knew not +taxi-cabs.)</p> + +<p>When they were writers, a frequent sign of the beginning of their end (from +my standpoint; of their success, from other standpoints, including, no doubt, +those of their wives) was that they began to write of persons rather than +principles; to eulogise rather than to exhort, criticise, and suggest. So +surely as they began their written panegyrics of individuals, I found them +laying aside the last remnants of their private hero-worship. Very soon after +this stage they generally changed their clubs, becoming members of the most +expensive of these establishments; and from that point on, their progress +towards finished cynicism, fatty degeneration of the intellect, and smiling +abandonment of all scruples, all ideals, and all modesty, was rapid and +certain.</p> + +<p>The inquiring student of such processes would perhaps have found banquets, +luncheons, and public dinners of a more or less political colour his most +prolific fields. Upon such occasions I always found the genus very strongly +represented. In one camp the dress clothes of the followers would be of a +better cut and more gracefully worn than in the other camp; and those of the +better-dressed camp had more of assurance, more of brazen impudence, and more +of hopelessly shallow cynicism, I think, than those of other divisions. In many +cases, too, they had more of education; but, I fear, less of brains.</p> + +<p>It was, I think, the contemplation of these gentlemen, even more perhaps +than my saddening knowledge of their shifty, time-serving, shilly-shallying, or +glaringly unscrupulous leaders and masters, that finally disgusted me with +those branches of political work which were open to me. I have no wish to sit +in judgment. Other and stronger men may find that they may keep the most evil +sort of company without ever soiling their own hands. I know and very sincerely +respect a few political journalists and workers of different parties, whose +uprightness is beyond suspicion; whose fine enthusiasm remains untarnished, +even to-day. I yield to none in my admiration for such men. But however much I +admired, or even envied, it was not for me to emulate these gentlemen. I +probably lacked the necessary strength of fibre.</p> + +<p>Arncliffe was, as ever, very kindly when I showed him my feeling in the +matter; and, so far as might be, he released me from all journalistic +obligations of a political sort. But more, I was given a complimentary dinner. +Speeches were made, and I was genuinely astonished by the length of the list of +my avowed services to politics. It was affirmed that, under Providence, and +Arncliffe, and one or two people with titles, I had been instrumental in +starting movements, launching an organ of opinion, and bringing about all kinds +of signs and portents. The occasion embarrassed me greatly.</p> + +<p>It was true enough that, for a season, I had thrown myself heart and soul +into the furtherance of certain political aims; and, in all honesty, I had +worked very hard. And--heavens! how I was sick of the fluent humbugs, and the +complacent parasites! If only they could have been dumb, and, in their +writings, forbidden by law the use of all such words as 'patriotism,' I could +have borne much longer with them.</p> + +<p>London is our British centre, and your true parasite makes ever for the +kernel. I have seen them treated with the gravest and most modest deference by +working bees from outlying hives--the Oversea Dominions and the Services--as +men who were supposed to be fighting the good fight, there in the hub, the +heart, and centre of our House. And, listening to their complacent oozings, +under the titillations of innocent flattery, I have turned aside for very +shame, in my impatience, feeling that in truth the heart and centre were devoid +of virtue, and that true patriotism was a thing only to be found (where it was +never named) in unknown officers of either service, and obscure civilians +engaged in working out their own and the Empire's destinies in its remote +outposts, and upon the high seas.</p> + +<p>And, impatient as that thought may have been, how infinitely better founded +and less extravagant it was than the presumptuous arrogance of these gentlemen, +who, by their way of it, were 'Bearing the heat and burden of the day, here in +the busy heart of things--the historic metropolis of our race!'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Upon three occasions only, in five times that number of years, did I meet +Cynthia--Cynthia Barthrop; and those meetings, I need hardly say, were +accidental.</p> + +<p>The promise of Cynthia's youth was to all outward seeming amply fulfilled. +As a matron she would have been notable in any company, by reason of her sedate +beauty, and the dignity of her presence. But her manner suggested to me that +her life had certainly not brought content to Cynthia; and I gathered from her +brother Ernest that the radiant brightness of nature which had characterised +her youth had not survived her assumption of wifely and maternal cares. Others +might regard this change as part of a natural and inevitable process. In my +eyes also it was inevitable and natural, but not as the result of the passage +of time. For me it was the inevitable outcome of a marriage of convenience, +which was not, for Cynthia, a natural mating. The key to the changed expression +of her beautiful face, and, in particular, of her eloquent eyes, as I saw it, +lay in the fact that she was unsatisfied; her life, so rich in bloom, had never +reached fruition.</p> + +<p>One letter I had written to Cynthia, within a few days of her marriage. And +there had been no other communication between us. I trust that forgetfulness +came more easily to her than to me.</p> + +<p>My withdrawal from political work I connect with the death of Queen +Victoria, the Coronation of King Edward, and the end of the South African War. +From the same period--a time of the inception of radical, far-reaching change +in England--I date also my final emergence from that phase of one's existence +in which one is still thought of, by some people at all events, as a young man. +The phase has a longer duration in our time, I think, than in previous +generations, because we have done so much in the direction of abolishing middle +age. Grey hairs were fairly plentiful with me well before the admitted end of +this phase.</p> + +<p>Those last years of the young man, the author and journalist of 'promise,' +who was a 'coming man,' and, too, the maturer years which followed, ought, upon +all material counts, to have been the happiest and most contented in my life; +since, during this time, my position was an assured one, and I went scatheless +as regards anxiety about ways and means--the burden which lines the foreheads +of eight Londoners in ten, I think. Yes, by all the signs, these should have +been my best and most contented years. As a fact, I do not think I touched +content in a single hour of all that period.</p> + +<p>What then was lacking in my life? It certainly lacked leisure. But the +average modern man would say that this commonplace fact could hardly rob one of +content. My income did not fall below from seven hundred to a thousand pounds +in any year. In all this period, therefore, there was never a hint of the +bitter, wolfish struggle for mere food and shelter which ruled my first years +in London; neither was I ever obliged to live in squalid quarters. On the +contrary, I lived comfortably, and had a good deal more of the sort of social +intercourse which dining out furnishes than I desired. And, withal, though I +knew much of keen effort, the stress of unremitting work, and, at times, +considerable responsibility, I do not think I tasted content in one hour of all +those long, crowded, respectable, and apparently prosperous years.</p> + +<p>If one comes to that, could I honestly assert that in the years preceding +these I had ever known content? I fear not. Elation, the sense of more or less +successful striving, occasional triumphs--all these good things I had known. +But content, peace, secure and restful satisfaction-- No, I could not truly say +I had ever experienced these. Perhaps they have been rare among all the +educated peoples of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; +particularly, it may be, among those who, like myself, have been more or less +freely admitted prospectors in the home territories of various classes of the +community, without ever becoming a fully accredited and recognised member of +any one among them.</p> + +<p>I would like very much to comprehend fairly the reason of the barrenness, +the failure to attain content or satisfaction, in all those years of my London +life. And, for that reason, I linger over my review of them, I state the case +as fully as I can. But do I explain it to myself? I fear not. Doubtless, some +good people would tell me the secret lay in the apparent absence of definitely +dogmatic religious influence in my life. Ah, well, there is that, of course. +But it does not give me the explanation. Others would tell me the explanation +could be given in one word--egoism; that there has been always too much ego in +my cosmos. Yes, there is doubtless a great deal in that. And yet, goodness +knows, mine has not been a self-indulgent life.</p> + +<p>As I see it, there was a period in which I urgently desired to secure a safe +foothold in London's literary and journalistic life. Material needs being +moderately satisfied I happened, pretty blindly, into my marriage. That +effectually shut out any possibility of content while it lasted, and added very +materially to the inroads made by the previous struggling period upon my +health. Later, came my strongest literary ambitions: a striving for achievement +and success, and I suppose for fame, as author. And then the brief, tremendous +struggle to win Cynthia for my wife. So far, naturally enough, there had been +no content.</p> + +<p>After the collapse of my attempt to win a mate, it seems to me that I became +definitely middle-aged; though any outside observer of my life would probably +have dated the serious beginnings of my career--the 'young man of undoubted +promise,' etc.--from that time, since it was from then on that my position +became more important. I directed the energies of others, was a leading +editor's right hand man, initiated and controlled new departures, and commanded +far more attention for my writings than ever before.</p> + +<p>But--and here, it seems to me, lies the crux of the matter--in all this +period the present moment of living never appealed to me in the least. I +derived no suggestion of satisfaction or enjoyment from it. I was for ever +striving, restlessly, uneasily, and to weariness, for something to be attained +later on. And for what did I strive? Well, I know that the old ambitions in the +direction of world-wide recognition as a literary master did not survive my +return to Fleet Street, the landmark for me of Cynthia's marriage. Equally +certain am I that I cherished no plan or desire to accumulate money and become +rich. I had no desire to become a politician, or to obtain such a post as +Arncliffe's. The desires of my youth were dead; the energies of my youth were +dulled; the health and physical standard of my early manhood was greatly and +for ever lowered. The enthusiasms of my youth had given place not to cynicism +but to weary sadness. It was perhaps unfortunate for myself that I had no +cynicism.</p> + +<p>Very well. In other words, a disinterested observer might say: You became +middle-aged--the common lot--and dyspeptic: the usual penalty of sedentary +life. But there is a difference. If middle age brings to most, as no doubt it +does, some failure of health and a notable attenuation of aims, desires, +ambitions, and zest, does it not also bring some satisfaction in the present? I +think so; at all events, where, as in my case, it brings the outward and +material essentials of a moderate success in life. Now in my case, though the +definite aims, the plans for the future, the desired goals, had merely ceased +to exist, the present was Dead Sea fruit--null and void, a thing of nought. +Just where does my poor personal equation enter in, and how far, I wonder, is +all this typical of twentieth-century human experience, for us, the heirs of +all the ages, with our wonderful enlightenment and progress? I wonder!</p> + +<p>This, at all events, I think, is as near as I can come to explanation. Yet +how very far short it falls of explaining, of furnishing me with the key which +the making of this record was to provide!</p> + +<p>However, the task shall not be shirked. At least, some matters have been +made clearer. I will complete my record--if I can.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="LAST" id="LAST">THE LAST STAGE</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>'What do you aim at in your life?' I said to Sidney Heron one night, when +the first decade of the new century was drawing near its close. Heron had dined +with me, and we had continued our talk in my rooms. It was a Saturday night, +and therefore for me free of engagements.</p> + +<p>'The end of it,' replied Heron, without a moment's hesitation.</p> + +<p>'Ah! Nothing else? Nothing to come before the end?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, well, to be precise, I suppose one does, in certain moods, cherish +vague hopes of coming upon a--a way out, you know, some time before the end; +time to compose one's mind decently before the prime adventure. Yes, one +cherishes the notion vaguely; but I apprehend that realisation of it is only +for such swells as you. I have sometimes known thrifty bursts, in which I have +saved a little; but--a man doesn't buy estates out of my sort of work, you +know. He's lucky if he can keep out-- Well, out of Fleet Street, say, saving +your worship's presence.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, yes; you've always done that, haven't you? A negative kind of +ambition, perhaps, but----'</p> + +<p>'Oh, naturally, you must pretend scorn for it, I see that,' said Heron.</p> + +<p>'Not at all, my dear chap, not a bit of it. Indeed, I should be one of the +last to scorn that particular aim. But I was wondering if you cherished any +other. A "way out." Yes, there's something rather heart-stirring about the +thought. I wonder if there is such a thing as a "way out." I forget the name of +the Roman gentleman who hankered after a "way out." Once in a year or so he +used to wake up, full of the conviction that he'd found it. Out came the family +chariots, and off he would gallop across the Campagna to the hills beyond, +where, no doubt, he had a villa of sorts, vineyards, and the rest of it. Here, +in chaste seclusion, was his "way out": a glorious relief, the beginning of the +great peace. And, a few weeks later, Rome would see his chariots dashing back +again into the city, even harder driven than on the passage out. However, I +suppose there is a "way out" somewhere for every one.'</p> + +<p>'Well, I wouldn't say for every one,' said Heron thoughtfully. 'It doesn't +matter how fast you drive, you can't get away from yourself, of course. The +question of whether there is or is not a "way out" depends on what you want to +get away from, and where you want to reach.'</p> + +<p>It may be well enough to say with the poet: 'What so wild as words are?' But +the fact remains that mere words, and the grouping of words, apart from their +normal, everyday significance, have a notable influence upon the thoughts of +some folk, and especially, I suppose, of writers. I know that Heron's careless +'way out' phrase occupied my mind greatly for many weeks after it was +spoken.</p> + +<p>'After all,' I sometimes asked myself, 'what has my whole life amounted to +but an uneasy, restless, striving search for a "way out"? It has never been +"to-day" with me, but always "to-morrow"; and the morrow has never come. Never +for a moment have I thought: "This thing in my hand is what I want; this +present Here and Now is what I desire. I will retain this, and so shall be +content." No, my strivings--and I have been always striving--have been for +something the future was to bring. And, behold, what was the future is more +barren than the past; it is that thing which I seem incapable of valuing--the +present. Is there a "way out" for me? Surely there must be. I certainly am no +more fastidious than my neighbours, and indeed am much simpler in my tastes +than most of them.'</p> + +<p>And that was true. If I could lay claim to no other kind of progress, I +could fairly say that I had cultivated simplicity in taste and appetite, and +did in all honesty prefer simple ways. That otherwise abominable thing, my +disabled digestive system, had perhaps influenced me in this direction. In days +gone by, I should have said my most desired 'way out' would be the path to +independent leisure for literary work. Now, if I desired anything, it was +independent leisure, not for the production of immortal books, but for +thinking; for the calm thought that should yield self-comprehension. Yes, I +told myself, I hated the daily round of Fleet Street, with its never-slackening +demand for the production of restrained moralising, polished twaddle, and +non-committal, two-sided conclusions, or careful omissions, and one-eyed +deductions. It was thus I thought of it, then.</p> + +<p>'What you want is a holiday, my friend,' said Arncliffe, upon whose kindly +heart and front of brass the beating of the waves of Time seemed powerless to +develop the smallest fissure.</p> + +<p>'You are right,' I thought. 'A holiday without an end is what I want. And, +why not take it, instead of waiting till the other end comes, and shuts out all +possibility of holidays, work, or thought? Why not?'</p> + +<p>I began a reckoning up of my resources. But it was a perfunctory reckoning. +The facts really did not greatly interest me. After all, had I not once calmly +set up my establishment in the country, with a total capital of perhaps twenty +pounds? Or, if one came to that, had I not cheerfully sallied forth into the +world, armed only with a one-pound note? True, I told myself, with some +bitterness, the youth had possessed many capabilities which the man lacked. +Still, the reckoning did not greatly interest me. And, while I made it, my +thoughts persistently reverted to Australian bush scenes; never, by the way, to +my days of comparative prosperity in Sydney, but always to bush scenes: camp +fires under vast and sombre red mahogany trees; lonely tracks in heavily +timbered country; glimpses of towns like Dursley, seen from the rugged tops of +high wooded ridges; little creeks, lisping over stones never touched by the +feet of men or beasts; tiny clearings among the hills, where a spiral of blue +smoke bespoke an open hearth and human care, though no sound disturbed the +peaceful solitude save the hum of insects and the occasional cry of birds.</p> + +<p>Now and again I would allow myself to compose a mental picture of some +peaceful retreat upon the outskirts of a remote English village, where every +stock and stone would have a history, and every inhabitant prove a repository +of folklore and local tradition. From actual experience I still knew very +little of rural England, though of late years I had done some exploring. But, +vicariously, I had lived much in Wessex, East Anglia, the delectable Duchy, and +other parts of the country, through the works of favourite writers. And so I +did dream at times of an English retreat, but always such musings would end +upon a note of scepticism. These parts were not far enough away to furnish +anything so wonderful, so epoch-making, as my desired 'way out.' For persons of +my temperament one of the commonest and most disastrous blunders of life is the +tacit assumption that the thing easy of attainment and near at hand cannot +possibly prove the thing one wants.</p> + +<p>Gradually, then, the idea developed in my mind that the true solution of my +problems lay in a working back upon my life's tracks. My thoughts wandered +insistently to the northern half of the coast of New South Wales. Even now I +could hardly say just how much of my retrospective vision was genuine +recollection, and how much the glamour of youth. I tried to recall without +sentiment the effects produced upon me, for example, by the climate of that +undoubtedly favoured region. But I am not sure that my efforts gave results of +any practical value. For practical purposes it is extremely difficult, in +middle life, to form reliable estimates of the congeniality to one's self of +any place to which one has been a stranger since youth. Recollections pitched +in such a key as, 'How good one used to feel when--,' or,'How beautiful the +country looked at ---- when one--,' are apt to be very misleading for a man of +broken health and middle age; the one thing he cannot properly allow for being +the radical change which has taken place in himself. I bore the name of the lad +who tramped the roads from Myall Creek down to Dursley. In most other respects +I was not now that person, but somebody else--a totally different somebody.</p> + +<p>I could not very well talk of the plans which now took shape in my mind to +Sidney Heron; because, in effect, he declined to discuss them.</p> + +<p>'I think it would be a rather less reasonable step than suicide, and I have +always declined to discuss suicide. One must see some glimmer of rationality in +a project to be able to discuss it, and in this notion of yours I can see none, +none whatever.'</p> + +<p>A vague suspicion that others might be likely to share Heron's view +prevented my seeking the counsel of my few friends; and also, I fear, tended +rather to strengthen my inclinations to go my own way. The more I thought upon +it, the more determined I became to cut completely adrift from my present life; +to find a way of escaping all its insistent calls; to get far enough away from +my life (so to say) to be able calmly and thoughtfully to observe it, and seek +to understand it. I did not admit this, but I suppose my real aim was to escape +from myself.</p> + +<p>'Your lease is not a long one, in any case,' I told myself. 'While yet you +have the chance cease to be a machine, and begin to live as a rational, +reasoning creature. Be done with your petty striving after ends you have +forgotten, or cannot see, or care nothing for. Get out into the open, and live, +and think!'</p> + +<p>I do not quite know the basis of my conviction that I should never make old +bones, as the saying goes. The life assurance offices certainly shared this +view, for they would have none of me. (I had long since thought of taking out +what is called a double endowment policy.) My father died at an early age, and +I had known good health hardly at all since my first two years in London. The +doctor who had last examined me showed that he thought poorly of my heart; and, +indeed, experience had taught me that prolonged gastric disorder is calculated +to affect injuriously most organs of the human anatomy. But the thinking and +planning with regard to a radical change in my life had given me a certain +interest in living, and that had acted beneficially upon my health; so that, +for the time being, I felt better than for a long while past.</p> + +<p>While this fact gave a certain air of unreality to the resignation, on the +grounds of ill-health, from my appointment as a member of Arncliffe's staff, it +did not in the least affect my weariness of Fleet Street and all its works, or +my determination to be done with them. The circle of my intimates was so very +small that the task of explaining my intentions was not a formidable one, nor +even one which I felt called upon to perform with any particular thoroughness. +I proposed to take a voyage for the good of my health, and did not know +precisely when I should return. That I deemed sufficient for most of those to +whom anything at all needed to be said.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>There was something strange, a dream-like want of reality, about my final +departure from England, after five-and-twenty years of working life in London. +I am not likely to forget any incident of it; but yet the whole experience, +both at the time and now, seemed (and seems) to be shrouded in a kind of mist, +a by no means disagreeable haze of unreality, which in a measure numbed all my +senses. More than ever before I seemed to be, not so much living through an +experience, as observing it from a detached standpoint.</p> + +<p>Investigation of my resources showed that I had accumulated some means +during the past dozen years of simple living and incessant work, not ill-paid. +I had just upon two thousand pounds invested, and between one and two hundred +pounds lying to my credit at call, I told myself that living alone and simply +in the bush, a hundred pounds in the year would easily cover all my expenses. +That I had anything like twenty years of life before me was a supposition which +I could not entertain for one moment. And, therefore, I told myself again and +again, with curious insistence, there really was no reason why I need ever +again work for money, or waste one moment over petty anxiety regarding ways and +means. That was a very great boon, I told myself; the greatest of all boons, +and better fortune than in recent years I had dared to hope would be mine. And, +puzzled by the coldness with which my inner mind responded to these assurances, +I would reiterate them, watching my mind the while, and almost angered by the +absence of elation and enthusiasm which I observed there.</p> + +<p>'You have not properly realised as yet what it means, my friend,' I murmured +to myself as I walked slowly through city alley-ways, after booking my passage +to Sydney in a steam ship of perhaps seven times the tonnage of the old +<em>Ariadne</em> of my boyhood's journey to Australia. 'But it is the biggest +thing you have ever known. You will begin to realise it presently. You are +free. Do you hear? An absolutely free man. You need never write another line +unless you wish it, and then you may write precisely what you think, no more, +no less. You are going right away from this howling cockpit, and never need set +foot in it again. You are going to a beautiful climate, a free life in the +open, with no vestige of sham or pretence about it, and long, secure leisure to +reflect, to think, to muse, to read, to do precisely what you desire to do, and +nothing else. You are free--free! Do you hear, you tired hack? Too tired to +prick your ears, eh? Ah, well, wait till you've been a week or two at sea!'</p> + +<p>Very quietly I addressed my sluggish and jaded self in this wise. Yet more +than one hurried walker in the city ways looked curiously at me, as I passed +along, with a wondering scrutiny which amused me a good deal. 'Too tired to +prick your ears.' The suggestion came from the contemptuously +self-commiserating thought that I was rather like a worn-out 'bus horse, to +whom some benevolent minor Providence was offering the freedom of a fine +grazing paddock. 'You're too much galled and spavined, you poor devil, to be +moved by verbal assurances. Wait till you scent the breezy upland, and your +feet feel the turf. You'll know better what it all means then.'</p> + +<p>I had entertained vague notions of a little farewell feast which I would +give to Heron, and, possibly, to one or two other friends. But from the reality +of such convivial enterprise I shrank, when the time came, preferring to adopt, +even to Heron, the attitude of a traveller who would presently return. And +when, as the event proved, I found myself the guest of honour at a dinner +presided over by Arncliffe, my embarrassment pierced through all sense of +unreality and caused me acute discomfort.</p> + +<p>It is odd that I, who always have been foolishly sensitive to blame (from +professed critics and others), should shrink so painfully from spoken praise or +formal tribute of any kind. It makes my skin hot even to recall the one or two +such episodes I have faced. The wretched inability to think where to dispose of +one's hands and gaze during the genial delivery of after-dinner encomiums; the +distressing difficulty of replying! Upon the whole, I think I was better at +receiving punishment. But it is true, the latter one received in privacy, and +was under no obligation to answer; since replying to printed criticisms was +never a folly I indulged.</p> + +<p>On the eve of my departure from London I did a curious and perhaps foolish +thing, on the spur of a moment's impulse. I hailed a cab, and drove to +Cynthia's house in Sloane Street. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Barthrop were at home, and +alone, the servant told me; and in another few moments I was shaking hands with +them. Naturally, they called my visit an unexpected pleasure. It was, in fact, +not a very pleasurable quarter of an hour for either one of us. For years I had +known nothing of their interests, or they of mine. Our talk was necessarily +shallow, and I dare say Cynthia, no less than her husband, was glad when I rose +to take my leave. The sweet, clear candour of her face had given place, I +thought, to something not wholly unlike querulousness. But, I had one glance +from her eyes, as she took my hand, which seemed to me to say:</p> + +<p>'God speed! I understand.'</p> + +<p>It may have meant nothing, but I like to think it meant understanding.</p> + +<p>From Cynthia's house I went on to Heron's lodging, for I had a horror of +being 'seen off,' and wished to bid my friend good-bye in his own rooms. Our +talk was constrained, I remember. The stress of my uprooting affected me far +more than I knew at the time. Heron regarded my going with grave disapproval as +a crazy step. He regretted it, too; and such feelings always tended to +exaggerate his tendency to taciturnity, or to a harsh, sardonic vein in +speech.</p> + +<p>As his way was in such a matter, Heron calmly ignored my stipulation about +being 'seen off,' and he was standing beside the curb when I stepped out of my +cab at Fenchurch Street Station next morning. There was nearly half an hour to +spare, we found, before the boat train started.</p> + +<p>'The correct thing would be a stirrup-cup,' growled Heron.</p> + +<p>'The very thing,' I said; conversation in such a place, and in such +circumstances, proving quite impossible for me. By an odd chance I recalled my +first experiences upon arrival at this same mean and dolorous station, more +than twenty years previously. 'We will go to the house in which the "genelmun +orduder bawth,"' I said, and led Heron across into the Blue Boar.</p> + +<p>The forced jocularity of these occasions is apt to be a pitifully wooden +business, and I suppose it was a relief to us both when my train began slowly +to move.</p> + +<p>'By the way--I had forgotten,' said Heron, very gruffly. 'Take this trifle +with you-- May be of some use. Good-bye! Look me up as soon as you get back. I +give you a year--or nearly.'</p> + +<p>He waved his hand jerkily, and was gone. He had given me the silver +cigarette-case which he had used for all the years of our acquaintance. It bore +his initials in one corner, and under these I now saw engraved: 'To N. F., +1890-1910.' I do not recall any small incident that impressed me more than +this.</p> + +<p>I still moved through a mist. The voices of my travelling companions seemed +oddly small and remote. I felt as though encased and insulated, in some curious +way, from the everyday life about me. And this mood possessed me all through +that day. Through all the customary bustle of an ocean liner's departure, I +moved slowly, silently, aloofly, as a somnambulist. It was a singular +outsetting, this start upon my 'way out.'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>In ordinary times my thrifty instinct might have led me to travel in the +second class division of the great steamer. But it had happened that the sum I +set aside to cover my travelling expenses proved more than ample. Several small +unreckoned additions had been made to it during my last month in England; and +the upshot was that I decided to travel by first saloon, and even to indulge +myself in the added luxury of a single-berth, upper-deck cabin. For me privacy +had for long been one of the few luxuries I really did value. Heron had mildly +satirised my sybaritic plans as representing an ingenious preparation for hut +life in the Australian bush, but I had claimed that comfort and privacy on the +passage would give me a deserved holiday, and help put me into good form for my +fresh start oversea. I am not sure which view was the more correct.</p> + +<p>At all events I certainly was very comfortably placed on board the +<em>Oronta</em>. My books I had deliberately packed in boxes marked 'Not wanted +on voyage.' There was not so much as a sheet of manuscript paper among my cabin +luggage. Beyond an odd letter or two for postage at ports of call, and any +casual browsing in the ship's library to which I might feel impelled in my +idleness, I was prepared to give no thought to reading or writing for the +present; since for five-and-twenty years I had been giving practically all my +days and half my nights to these pursuits as a working man of letters.</p> + +<p>I had amused myself of late with elaborate anticipations of the delights of +idleness during this passage to Australia. My ideas of sea travel were really +culled from recollections of life on a full rigged clipper ship--not a +steamboat. (The homeward passage from Australia had hardly been sea-travel in +the ordinary sense for me, but rather six weeks of clerking in an office.) In +my anticipations of the present journey, the dominant impressions had been +based upon memories of the spotless cleanliness, endless leisure, and primitive +simplicity of the old time sailing ship life. I do not mean that I had thought +I should trot about the decks of the <em>Oronta</em> bare-footed, as I and my +childish companions had done aboard the <em>Ariadne</em>; but I do mean that +the atmosphere of the <em>Ariadne</em> life had coloured all my thoughts of +what the present trip would be for me.</p> + +<p>And that, of course, was a mistake. The smoothly ordered life of the +<em>Oronta's</em> saloon passengers was very much that of a first-class seaside +hotel, say in Bournemouth. So far from sprawling upon the snowy deck of a +forecastle-head, to watch the phosphorescent lights in the water under our +ship's bow, saloon passengers on board the <em>Oronta</em> were not expected +ever to intrude upon the forward deck--the ship had no forecastle-head--which +was reserved for the uses of the crew. Also, in the conventional black and +white of society's evening uniform for men, I suppose one does not exactly +sprawl on decks, even where these are spotless, as they never are on board a +steamship.</p> + +<p>The pleasant race of sailor men, of shell-backs, such as those who swung the +yards and tallied on to the halliards of the <em>Ariadne</em>, may or may not +have become extinct, and given place to a breed of sea-going mechanics, who +protect their feet by means of rubber boots when washing decks down in the +morning. In any case, I met none of the old salted variety among the +<em>Oronta's</em> multitudinous crew. For me there was here no sitting on +painted spars, or tarry hatch-covers, or rusty anchor-stocks, and listening to +long, rambling 'yarns,' or 'cuffers,' in idle dog-watches or restful +night-watches, when the southern Trades blew steadily, and the braces hung +untouched upon their pins for a week on end. No, in the second dog-watch here, +one took a solemn constitutional preparatory to dressing for dinner; and in the +first night-watch one smoked and listened willy-nilly to polite small talk, and +(from the ship's orchestra) the latest and most criminal products of New York's +musical genius. I never heard or saw the process of relieving wheel or look-out +aboard the Oronta, and long before the beginning of the middle watch I had +usually switched off for the night the electric reading-lamp over my pillow.</p> + +<p>The fact is, of course, that I had never had any kind of training for such a +life as that in which I now found myself. I will not pretend to regret that, +for, to be frank, it is a vapid, foolish, empty life enough. But there it was; +one could not well evade it, and I had had no previous experience of anything +at all like it. The most popular breakfast-hour was something after nine. +Beef-tea, ices, and suchlike aids to indigestion were partaken of a couple of +hours later. Luncheon was a substantial dinner. The four o'clock tea was quite +a meal for most passengers. Caviare and anchovy sandwiches were the rule in the +half hour preceding dinner, which was, of course, a serious function. But ours +was a valiant company, and supper was a seventh meal achieved by many. The +orchestra seemed never far away; games were numerous (here again I had +hopelessly neglected my education), and at night there were concerts, impromptu +dances, and balls that were far from being impromptu.</p> + +<p>It is, I fear, a confession of natural perversity, but by the time we +reached the Mediterranean I was exceedingly restless, and inclined to nervous +depression.</p> + +<p>I welcomed the various ports of call, and was properly ashamed of the +unsocial irritability which made me resent the feeling of being made one of a +chattering, laughing, high-spirited horde of tourists, whose descent upon a +foreign port seriously damaged whatever charm or interest it might possess. At +least the trading residents of these ports were far more sensible than I, their +preference undoubtedly causing them to welcome the wielders of camera and +guide-book in the vein of 'the more the merrier.'</p> + +<p>It was in Naples, outside the Villa Nazionale, that it fell to me to rescue +the elegant young widow, Mrs. Oldcastle, from the embarrassing attentions of a +cabman, whose acquaintances were already rallying about him in great force. So +far as speech went, my command of Italian was not very much better than Mrs. +Oldcastle's perhaps; but at least I had a pocketful of Italian silver, while +she, poor lady, had only English money. The cabman was grossly overpaid, of +course, but the main point was I silenced him. And then, her flushed cheeks +testifying to her embarrassment, Mrs. Oldcastle turned towards the gardens, +and, in common courtesy, I walked with her to ascertain if I could be of any +further service. The upshot was that we strolled for some time, took tea in the +Café Umberto, walked through the Museo, visited one of the city's innumerable +glove-shops, and finally, still together, drove back to the port and rejoined +the <em>Oronta</em>.</p> + +<p>As fellow-passengers we had up till this time merely exchanged casual +salutations, Mrs. Oldcastle being one of the three who shared the particular +table in the saloon at which I sat. No one else of her name appeared in the +passenger list, in which I had already read the line: 'Mrs. Oldcastle and +maid.' I imagined her age to be still something in the earliest thirties, and I +had been informed by some obliging gossip that she was English by birth; that +she had married an Australian squatter, who had died during the past year or +so; that her permanent home was in England, but that she was just now paying a +visit to the Commonwealth upon some business connected with her late husband's +estates there.</p> + +<p>'You have been most kind, Mr. Freydon,' she said, as we stepped from the +gangway to the steamer's deck. 'I was in a dreadful muddle by myself, and now, +thanks to you, I have really enjoyed my afternoon in Naples. Believe me, I am +grateful. And,' she added, with a faint blush, 'I shall now find even greater +interest than before in your books. Au revoir!'</p> + +<p>So she disappeared, by way of the saloon companion, while I took a turn +along the deck to smoke a cigarette. Naturally I had not mentioned my books or +profession, and I thought it an odd chance that she should know them. She +certainly had been a most agreeable companion, and----</p> + +<p>'There's no doubt that life in any other country, no matter where, does seem +to enlarge the sympathies of English people,' I told myself. 'It tends to +mitigate the severity of their attitude towards the narrower conventions. If +this had been her first journey out of England she might have accepted my help +in the matter of the cabman, but would almost certainly have felt called upon +to reject my company from that on. Instead of which-- H'm! Well, upon my word, +I have enjoyed the day far more than I should have done alone. She certainly is +very bright and intelligent.'</p> + +<p>And I nodded and smiled to myself, recalling some of her comments upon +certain figures in the marble gallery of the Museo that afternoon. There was +nothing in the least inane or parrot-like about her conversation. I experienced +a more genial and friendly feeling than had been mine till then toward the +whole of my fellow-passengers.</p> + +<p>'After all,' I told myself, 'this forming of hasty impressions of people, +from snatches of their talk and mannerisms and so forth, is both misleading and +uncharitable. Here have I been sitting at table for a week, and, upon my word, +I had no idea that any one among her sex on board had half so much intelligence +as she had shown in these few hours away from the crowd. The crowd--that's it. +It's misleading to observe folk in the mass, and in the confinement of a +ship.'</p> + +<p>The passengers' quarters on an ocean liner are fully equal to the residences +in a cathedral close as forcing beds of gossip and scandal. Thus, before we +reached the Indian Ocean, I was aware that the gossips had so far condescended +as to link my name with that of one whom I certainly rated as the most +attractive of her sex on board. Indeed, it was Mrs. Oldcastle herself who drew +my attention to this, with a little <em>moue</em> of contempt and disgust.</p> + +<p>'Really, people on board ship are too despicable in this matter of gossip,' +she said. 'It would seem that they are literally incapable of evolving any +other topic than the doings, or supposed doings, of those about them. And the +men seem to me just as bad as the women.'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Naturally, the fact that various idle people chose to use my name in their +gossip in no sense disturbed my peace of mind. Neither had I any particular +occasion to regret it, for Mrs. Oldcastle's sake, since I fancy that +independent and high-spirited little lady took a mischievous pleasure in +spurring the rather sluggish imaginations of those about her. I found a hint of +this in her demeanour occasionally, and could imagine her saying, as she +mentally addressed her fellow-passengers:</p> + +<p>'There! Here's a choice crumb for you, you silly chatterers!'</p> + +<p>With some such thought, I am assured, she occasionally took my arm when we +chanced to pace the deck late in the evening. At least, I noted that such +actions on her part came frequently when we happened to pass a group of lady +passengers in the full glare of an electric lamp, and rarely when we were +unobserved.</p> + +<p>There is doubtless a certain forceful magic about the combined influences of +propinquity and sea air, as these are enjoyed by the idle passengers upon a +great ocean liner. They do, I think, tend to advance intimacy and accelerate +the various stages of intercourse leading thereto, and therefrom, as nothing +else does; more particularly as affecting the relations between men and women. +Whilst unlike myself (as in most other respects) in that her social instincts +were I am sure well developed, it happened that Mrs. Oldcastle did not feel +much more drawn toward the majority of her fellow-passengers than I did. By a +more remarkable coincidence, it chanced that she had read and been interested +by several of my books. From such a starting-point, then, it followed almost +inevitably that we walked the decks together, and sat and talked together a +great deal; these being the normal daily occupations of people so situated, if +not indeed the only available occupations for those not given over to such +delights as deck quoits.</p> + +<p>I am very sure that Mrs. Oldcastle was never what is called a flirt, and I +believe the general tone of our conversations was sufficiently rational. Yet I +will not deny that there were times--on the balcony of the Galle Face Hotel in +Colombo, and on the <em>Oronta's</em> promenade deck by moonlight--when my +attitude towards this charming lady was definitely tinged by sentiment. Withal, +I doubt if any raw boy could have been more shy, in some respects, than I; for +I was most sensitively conscious during this time of the fact that I was a very +unsocial, middle-aged man, of indifferent health, and, for that reason, +unattractive appearance. Whereas, Mrs. Oldcastle had all the charms of the best +type of 'the woman of thirty,' including the evident enjoyment of that sort of +health which is the only real preservative of youth. Being by habit a lonely +and self-conscious creature, I had even more than the average Englishman's +horror of making myself ridiculous.</p> + +<p>We were off the coast of south-western Australia when I sat down in my cabin +one morning for the purpose of seriously reviewing my position, with special +reference to recent conversations with Mrs. Oldcastle. Certain things I laid +down as premises which could not be questioned; as, for example, that I found +this gracious little lady (Mrs. Oldcastle was petite and softly rounded in +figure; I am tall and inclined in these days to a stooping, scraggy kind of +gauntness) a most delightful companion, admirably well-informed, vivacious, and +unusually gifted in the matter of deductive powers and the sense of humour. +Also, that (whatever the ship's chatterboxes might say) there had been nothing +in the faintest degree compromising in our relations so far.</p> + +<p>From such premises I began to argue with myself upon the question of +marriage. It is not very easy to get these things down in black and white. I +was perfectly sure that Mrs. Oldcastle was heartwhole. And yet, absurdly +presumptuous as it must look when I write it, I was equally sure that it would +be possible for me to woo and win her. It may seem odd, but this charming woman +did really enjoy my society. She liked talking with me. She found my +understanding of her ready and sympathetic, and--what doubtless appealed to +both of us--she found that talk with me had a rather stimulating effect upon +her; that it drew out, in combating my point of view, the best of her excellent +qualities. Using large words for lesser things, she laughingly asserted that I +inspired her; and she added that I was the only person she knew who never bored +or wearied her. Yes, no matter how awkward the written words may look, I know I +was convinced that, if I should set myself to do it, I could woo and win this +charming woman, whose first name, by the way, I did not then know.</p> + +<p>I did not know Mrs. Oldcastle's precise circumstances, of course, but there +were many ways in which I gathered that she was rather rich than poor. A young +Australian among the passengers volunteered to me the information that this +lady had been the sole legatee of her late husband, who had owned stations in +South Australia and in Queensland certainly worth some hundreds of thousands of +pounds. Few men could be less attracted than myself by a prospect of +controlling a large fortune or extensive properties. But, as against that, +whilst marriage with any one possessed of no means would have been mere folly +for me, the possession of ample means would remove the most obvious barriers +between myself and matrimony.</p> + +<p>It was passing strange, I thought, that a woman at once so charming and so +rich should be travelling alone, and, so far from being surrounded by a court +of admirers, content to make such a man as myself almost her sole companion. +Mrs. Oldcastle had a mind at once nimble and delicate, sensitive, and quite +remarkably quick to seize impressions, and to arrive at (mostly accurate) +conclusions. She had a vein of gentle satire, of kindly and withal truly +humorous irony, most rare I think in women, and quite delightful in a +companion. I learned that her father (now dead) had been the secretary of one +of the learned societies in London, and a writer of no mean reputation on +archęology and kindred subjects. Her surviving relatives were few in number, of +small means, and resident, I gathered, in the west of England. I had told her a +good deal about my London life, and of the circumstances and plans leading up +to my present journey. Her comment was:</p> + +<p>'I think I understand perfectly, I am sure I sympathise heartily, and--I +give you one more year than your friend, Mr. Heron, allowed. I prophesy that +you will return to London within two years.'</p> + +<p>'But, just why?' I asked. 'For what reasons will my attempted "way out" +prove no more than a way back?'</p> + +<p>'Well, I am not sure that I can explain that. No, I don't think I can. It +may prove a good deal more than that, and yet take you back to London within a +couple of years. Though I cannot explain, I am sure. It is not only that you +have been a sedentary man all these years. You have also been a thinker. You +think intellectual society is of no moment to you. Well, you are very tired, +you see. Also, bear this in mind: in the Old World, even for a man who lives +alone on a mountain-top, there is more of intellectuality--in the very +atmosphere, in the buildings and roads, the hedges and the ditches--than the +best cities of the New World have to offer. I suppose it is a matter of +tradition and association. The endeavours of the New World are material; a +proportion at least of the Old World's efforts are abstract and ideal. You will +see. I give you two years, or nearly. And I don't think for a moment it will be +wasted time.'</p> + +<p>Sometimes our talk was far more suggestive of the intercourse between two +men, fellow-workers even, than that of a man and a woman. Never, I think, was +it very suggestive of what it really was: conversation between a middle-aged, +and, upon the whole, broken man, and a woman young, beautiful, wealthy, and +unattached. Love, in the passionate, youthful sense, was not for me, of course, +and never again could be. I think I was free from illusions on that point. But +I believed I might be a tolerable companion for such a woman as Mrs. Oldcastle, +and I felt that her companionship would be a thing very delightful to me. After +all, she had presumably had her love affair, and was now a fully matured woman. +Why then should I not definitely lay aside my plans--which even unconventional +Sidney Heron thought fantastic--and ask this altogether charming woman to be my +wife? Though I could never play the passionate lover, my ęsthetic sense was far +from unconscious or unappreciative of all her purely womanly charm, her grace +and beauty of person, as apart from her delightful mental qualities.</p> + +<p>I mused over the question through an entire morning, and when the luncheon +bugle sounded had arrived at no definite conclusion regarding it.</p> + +<p>That afternoon it happened that, as I sat chatting with Mrs. Oldcastle---we +were now in full view of the Australian coast, a rather monotonous though +moving picture which was occupying the attention of most passengers--our +conversation turned upon the age question; how youth was ended in the twentieth +year for some people, whilst with others it was prolonged into the thirtieth +and even the fortieth year; and, in the case of others again, seemed to last +all their lives long. Mrs. Oldcastle had a friend in London who had placidly +adopted middle age in her twenty-fifth year; and we agreed that a white-haired, +rubicund gentleman of fully sixty years, then engaged in winning a quoits +tournament before our eyes, seemed possessed of the gift of unending youth.</p> + +<p>'You know, I really feel quite strongly on the point,' said Mrs. Oldcastle. +'My friend, Betty Millen, has positively made herself a frump at +five-and-twenty. We practically quarrelled over it. I don't think people have +any right to do that sort of thing. It is not fair to their friends. Seriously, +I do regard it as an actual duty for every one to cherish and preserve her +youth.'</p> + +<p>'And <em>his</em> youth, too?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'Certainly, I think there is even less excuse for men who go out half-way to +meet middle-age. That sort of middle-age really is a kind of slow dying. Age is +a sort of gradual, piecemeal death, after all. It can be fended off, and ought +to be. Men have more active and interesting lives than women, as a rule; and so +have the less excuse for allowing age to creep upon them.'</p> + +<p>'But surely, in a general way, the poor fellows cannot help it?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, I don't agree. I have known men old enough to be my father, so far as +years go, who were splendidly youthful. The older a man is, within limits of +course, the more interesting he should be, and is, unless he has weakly allowed +age to benumb him before his time. Then he becomes merely depressing, a kind of +drag and lowering influence upon his friends; and, too, a horridly ageing +influence upon them.'</p> + +<p>I nodded, musing, none too cheerily.</p> + +<p>'After all,' she continued vivaciously, 'science has done such a lot for us +of late. Practically every one can keep bodily young and fit. It only means +taking a little trouble. And the rest, I think, is just a question of +will-power and mental hygiene. No, I have no patience with people who grow old; +unless, of course, they really are very old in years. I think it argues either +stupidity or a kind of profligacy--mental, nervous, and emotional, I mean--and +in either case it is very unfair to those about them, for there is nothing so +horribly contagious.'</p> + +<p>I have sometimes wondered if Mrs. Oldcastle had any deliberate purpose in +this conversation. Upon the whole, I think not. I remember distinctly that the +responsibility for introducing the subject was mine. She might have been +covertly instructing me for my own benefit, but I doubt it, I doubt it. My +faults of melancholy and unrestfulness had not appeared, I think, in my +intercourse with Mrs. Oldcastle, so cheery and enlivening was her influence. +No, I think these really were her views, and that she aired them purely +conversationally, and without design or afterthought, however kindly. Her own +youth she had most admirably conserved, and in a manner which showed real force +of character and self-control; for, as I now know, she had had some trying and +wearing experiences, though her air and manner were those of a woman young and +high-spirited, who had never known a care. As a fact she had known what it was, +for three years, to fight against the horrid advance of what was practically a +disease, and a terrible one, in her late husband, the chief cause of whose +death was alcoholic poisoning.</p> + +<p>But, though I am almost sure that this particular conversation was in no +sense part of a design or meant to influence me in my relations with her, yet +it did, as a matter of fact, serve to put a period to my musings, and bring me +to a definite decision, which it may be had considerable importance for both of +us. Within forty-eight hours Mrs. Oldcastle was to leave the <em>Oronta</em>, +her destination being the South Australian capital. That I had become none too +sure of myself in her company is proved by the fact that when I left her that +evening, it was with mention of a pretended headache and chill. I kept my cabin +next day, and before noon on the day following that we were due at Port +Adelaide. Mrs. Oldcastle expressed kindly sympathy in the matter of my supposed +indisposition, and that rather upset me. I could see that my non-appearance +during her last full day on board puzzled her, and I was not prepared to part +from her upon a pretence.</p> + +<p>'Why, the fact is,' I said, 'I don't think I can accept your sympathy, +because I had no headache or chill. I was a little moody--somewhat middle-aged, +you know; and wanted to be alone, and think.'</p> + +<p>'I see,' she said thoughtfully, and rather wonderingly.</p> + +<p>'I don't very much think you do,' I told her, not very politely. 'And I'm +not sure that I can explain--even if it were wise to try. I think, if you don't +mind, I'll just say this much: that I greatly value your friendship, and want +to retain it, if I can. It seemed to me better to have a headache yesterday, in +case--in case I might have done anything to risk losing your friendship.'</p> + +<p>'Oh! Well, I do not think you are likely to lose it, for I--I am as much +interested as you can be in preserving it. I want you to write to me. Will you? +And I will write to you when you have found your hermitage and can give me an +address. I will give you my agent's address in Adelaide, and my own address in +London, where I shall expect a call from you within two years. No, you wall not +find it so easy to lose touch with me, my friend; nor would you if--if you had +not had your headache yesterday.'</p> + +<p>Upon that she left me to prepare for going ashore. I think we understood +each other very well then. After that we had no more than a minute together for +private talk. During that minute I do not think I said anything except +'Good-bye!' But I very well remember some words Mrs. Oldcastle said.</p> + +<p>'You are not to forget me, if you please. Remember, I am not so dull but +what I can understand--some headaches. But they must not be accompanied by +"moody middle-age." Do please remember when the hermitage palls that it may be +left just as easily as it was found. And then, apart from Mr. Heron and others, +there will be a friend waiting to see you in London, and--and wanting to see +you.... That's my agent, the man with the green-lined umbrella. +Good-bye--friend!'</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The <em>Oronta</em> was a dull ship for me once she had passed Adelaide; +duller even than in the grey days between Tilbury and Naples. Adelaide passed, +an Australian-bound liner seems to have reached the end of her outward passage, +and yet it is not over. The remainder, for Melbourne, Sydney, and +Brisbane-bound folk, is apt to be a weariness, even as a train journey is, with +passengers coming and going and trunks and boxes much in evidence.</p> + +<p>I had lost my friend, though I had called this my method of retaining her +friendship; and rightly, I dare say. To be worthy of her a man should have left +in him ten times my vitality, I thought; he should be one who looked forward +rather than back; he should bring to their joint wayfaring a far keener zest +for life than my years in our modern Grub Street had left me. How vapid was the +talk of my remaining fellow-passengers; how slow of understanding, and how +preoccupied with petty things they seemed! They discussed their luggage, and +questions regarding the proper amounts for stewards' tips. Had not some +traveller called Adelaide Australia's city of culture? It seemed a pleasant +town. The Mount Lofty country near by was beautiful, I gathered. It might well +have been better for me to have left the ship there. My musings were in this +sort; somewhat lacking, perhaps, in the zest and cheerfulness which should +pertain to a new departure in life.</p> + +<p>I spent a few days in Sydney, chiefly given to walks through the city and +suburbs. There was a certain interest, I found, to be derived from the noting +of all the changes which a quarter of a century had wrought in this antipodean +Venice. Some of the alterations I noticed were possibly no more than +reflections of the changes time had wrought in myself; for these--the +modifications which lie between ambitious youth and that sort of damaged +middle-age which carries your dyspeptic farther from his youth than ever his +three score years and ten take the hale man--had been radical and thorough with +me. But, none the less, Sydney's actual changes were sufficiently +remarkable.</p> + +<p>At the spot whereon I made my entry into society (as I thought), in the +studio of Mr. Rawlence, the artist, stood now an imposing red building of many +storeys, given over, I gathered, to doctors and dentists. The artist, I +thought, was probably gathered to his fathers ere this, as my old +fellow-lodger, Mr. Smith, most certainly must have been. Mr. Foster, the editor +of the <em>Chronicle</em>, had died some years previously. The offices and +premises of Messrs. J. Canning and Son, my first employers in Sydney, were as +though I had left them but yesterday, unchanged in any single respect. But the +head of the firm, as I had known him, was no more; and his son, of whom I +caught one glimpse on the stairway, had grown elderly, grey, and quite +surprisingly stout.</p> + +<p>There was some interest for me in prowling about the haunts of my youth; but +to be honest, I must admit there was no pleasure, even of the mildly melancholy +kind. However beautiful their surroundings, no New World cities are in +themselves beautiful or picturesque. That which is new in them is--new, and +well enough; and that which is not new or newish is apt to be rather shabby +than venerable. I apprehend that Old World cities would be quite intolerably +shabby and tumble-down but for the fact that, when they were built, joint stock +companies were unknown, and men still took real pride in the durability of +their work. We have made wondrous progress, of course, and are vastly cleverer +than our forbears; but for the bulk of the work of our hands, there is not very +much to be said when its newness has worn off.</p> + +<p>I thought seriously for an hour or more of going to Dursley to visit its +Omniferacious Agent, and, more particularly, perhaps to see his wife; possibly +even to settle in the neighbourhood of that pretty little town. Then I reckoned +up the years, and decided against this step. The Omnigerentual One would be an +old man, if alive; and his wife--I recalled her fragile figure and hopeless +invalidism, and thought I would sooner cherish my recollections of +five-and-twenty years than put them to the test of inquiry.</p> + +<p>On the fourth or fifth day I drove with my bags to the handsome new railway +station which had taken the place of the rambling old Redfern terminal I +remembered, and took train for the north. I found I had no wish, at present, to +visit Werrina, Myall Creek, or Livorno Bay, and my journey came to an end a +full fifty miles south of St. Peter's Orphanage. Here, within five miles of the +substantial township of Peterborough, I came, with great ease, upon the very +sort of place I had in mind: a tiny cottage of two rooms, with a good deep +verandah before, and a little lean-to kitchen, or, in the local phrase, +skillion, behind; two rough slab sheds, a few fruit trees past their prime, an +acre of paddock, and beyond that illimitable bush.</p> + +<p>I bought the tiny place for a hundred and five pounds, influenced thereto in +part by the fact that the daughter of its owner, a small 'cockatoo' farmer's +wife, lived no more than a quarter of a mile away; and was willing, for a +modest consideration, to come in each day and 'do' for me, to the extent of +cooking one hot meal, washing dishes, and tidying my little gunyah. Thus, +simply and swiftly, I became a landed proprietor, and was able to send to +Sydney for my heavy chattels, knowing that, for the first time in my life, I +actually possessed in my own right a roof to shelter them withal, though it +were only of galvanised iron. (The use of stringy bark for the roofing of small +dwellings seemed to have ceased since my last sojourn in these parts, the +practical value of iron for rain-water catchment having thrust aside the cooler +and more picturesque material.)</p> + +<p>In the township of Peterborough I secured, for the time being, the services +of a decent, elderly man named Fetch--Isaiah Fetch--and together we set to work +to make a garden before my little house; to fence it in against the attacks of +bandicoots and wandering cattle, and to effect one or two small repairs, +additions and improvements to the place. This manual work interested me, and, I +dare say, bettered my health, though I was ashamed to note the poor staying +power I had as compared with Isaiah Fetch, who, whilst fully ten years my +senior, was greatly my superior in toughness and endurance.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Wages for labour had soared and soared again since my day in Australia, even +for elderly and 'down-along more than up-along 'men like Isaiah Fetch. (The +phrase is his own.) And, in any case, I told myself, it was not for the likes +of me to keep hired men. And so, when the garden was made, and the other needed +work done, I parted with Isaiah--a good, honest, homespun creature, rich in a +sort of bovine contentment which often moved me to sincere envy--and was left +quite alone in my hermitage, save for the morning visit of perhaps a couple of +hours, which the worthy Mrs. Blades undertook to pay for the purpose of tidying +my rooms and cooking a midday meal for me. Her coming between nine and ten each +morning, and going between twelve and one, formed the chief, if not the only, +landmarks in the routine of my quiet days. So it was when I parted with Isaiah. +So it is to-day, and so it is like to remain--while I remain.</p> + +<p>Parting with Isaiah Fetch made a good deal of difference to me; more +difference than I should have supposed it possible that anything connected with +so simple a soul could have made. The plain fact is, I suppose, that while +Isaiah worked about the place here, I worked with him, in my pottering way. I +developed quite an interest in my bit of garden, because of the very genuine +interest felt in the making of it by Isaiah. I had worked at it with him; but, +once he had left it, I regret to say the ordered ranks of young vegetables +tempted me but little, and soon became disordered, for the reason that the war +I waged against the weeds was but a poor, half-hearted affair. And so it was +with other good works we had begun together. I gave up my cow, because it +seemed far simpler to let Mrs. Blades have her for nothing, on the +understanding that she brought me the daily trifle of milk I needed. I left the +feeding and care of my few fowls to Mrs. Blades, and finally made her a present +of them, after paying several bills for their pollard and grain. It seemed +easier and cheaper to let Mrs. Blades supply the few eggs I needed.</p> + +<p>My horse Punch I kept, because we grew fond of each other, and the +surrounding bush afforded ample grazing for him. When Punch began his habit of +gently biting my arm or shoulder every time I led him here or there, he sealed +his own fate; and now will have to continue living with his tamely +uninteresting master willy nilly. Lovable, kindly, spirited beast that he is, I +never could have afforded the purchase of his like but for a slight flaw in his +near foreleg, which in some way spoils his action, from your horsey man's +standpoint, and pleases me greatly, because it brought the affectionate rascal +within my modest reach. I give him very little work, and rather too much food; +but he has to put up with a good deal of my society, and holds long converse +with me daily, I suppose because he knows no means of terminating an interview +until that is my pleasure.</p> + +<p>One piece of outdoor work I have continued religiously, for the reason, no +doubt, that I love wood fires, even in warm weather. I never neglect my +wood-stack, the foundations of which were laid for me by Isaiah Fetch. Every +day I take axe and saw and cut a certain amount of logwood. My hearth will take +logs of just four feet in length, and I feed it royally. The wood costs +nothing; when burning it is highly aromatic, and I like to be profuse with it; +I who can recall an interminable London winter, in a garret full of leaks and +draught holes, in which the only warming apparatus, besides the poor lamp that +lighted my writing-table, was a miserable oil-stove, which I could not afford +to keep alight except for the brief intervals during which it boiled my kettle +for me.</p> + +<p>Yes, I know every speck and every cranny of my cavernous hearth, and it is +rarely that it calls for any kindling wood of a morning. As a rule a puff from +the bellows and a fresh log--one of the little fellows, no thicker than your +leg, which I split for this purpose--is enough to set it on its way flaming and +glowing for another day of comforting life. I often tell myself it would never +do for me to think of giving up my hermitage and returning to England, because +of Punch and my ever-glowing hearth; even if there were no other reasons, as of +course there are.</p> + +<p>For, whilst the comparative zestfulness of the first months, when I worked +with Isaiah Fetch to improve my rough-hewn little hermitage, may not have +endured, yet are there many obvious and substantial advantages for me in the +life I lead here, in this little bush back-water, where the few human creatures +who know of my existence regard me as a poor, harmless kind of crank, and no +one ever disturbs the current of my circling thoughts. Never was a life more +free from interruptions from without. And if disturbance ever emanates from +within, why, clearly the fault must be my own, and should serve as a reminder +of how vastly uneasy my life would surely be in more civilised surroundings, +where interruptions descend upon one from without, thick as smuts through the +window of a London garret--save where the garreteer cares to do without air. +Here I sit with a noble fire leaping at one end of my unlined, wooden room, and +wide open doors and windows all about me. As regards climate, in New South +Wales a man may come as near as may be to eating his cake and having it too.</p> + +<p>And, for that long-sought mental restfulness, content, peace, whatever one +may call it, is not my present task a long step towards its attainment? A +completed record of the fitful struggle one calls one's life, calmly studied in +the light of reason untrammelled by sentiment, never interrupted by the call of +affairs; surely that should bring the full measure of self-comprehension upon +which peace is based! To doubt that contentment lies that way would be +wretchedness indeed. But why should I doubt what the world's greatest sages +have shown? True, my own experience of life has suggested that contentment is +rather the monopoly of the simplest souls, whose understanding is very limited +indeed. A stinging thought this, and apt to keep a man wakeful at night, if +indulged. But I think it should not be indulged. To doubt the existence of a +higher order of content than that of the blissfully ignorant is to brush aside +as worthless and meaningless the best that classic literature has to offer us, +and--such doubts are pernicious things.</p> + +<p>Living here in this clean, sweet air, so far removed from the external +influences which make for fret and stress, my bodily health, at all events, has +small excuse for failure one would suppose. And, indeed, at first it did seem +to me that I was acquiring a more normal kind of hardihood and working +efficiency in this respect. But I regret to say the supposition was not +long-lived. Four or five months after my arrival here I took to my bed for a +fortnight, as the result of one of the severest attacks I have ever had; and in +the fifteen months which have elapsed since then, my general health has been +very much what it was during the years before I left London, while the acute +bouts of neuritis and gastric trouble, when they have come, have been worse, I +think, than those of earlier years.</p> + +<p>But, none the less, without feeling it as yet, I may be building up a better +general condition in this quiet life; and the bitterly sharp attacks that seize +me may represent no more than a working off of arrears of penalties. I hope it +may be so, for persistent ill-health is a dismal thing. But, as against that, I +think I am sufficiently philosophic--how often that blessed word is abused by +disgruntled mankind--to avoid hopes and desires of too extravagant a sort, and, +by that token, to be safeguarded from the sharper forms of disappointment.</p> + +<p>Contentment depends, I apprehend, not upon obtaining possession of this or +that, but upon the wise schooling of one's desires and requirements. My aims +and desires in life--behind the achievement of which I have always fancied I +discerned Contentment sitting as a goddess, from whose beneficent hands come +all rewards--have naturally varied with the passing years. In youth, I suppose, +first place was given to Position. Later, Art stood highest; later, again, +Intellect; then Morality; and, finally. Peace, Tranquillity--surely the most +modest, and therefore practical and hopeful of all these goals.</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>The portion of my days here in the bush which I like best (when no bodily +ill plagues me) is the very early morning. Directly daylight comes, while yet +the sun's Australian throne is vacant--all hung about in cool, pearly +draperies--I slip a waterproof over my pyjamas, having first rolled up the legs +of these garments and thrust my feet into rubber half-boots, and wander out +across the verandah, down through the garden patch, over the road, with its +three-inch coating of sandy dust, and into the bush beyond, where every tiny +leaf and twig and blade of grass holds treasure trove and nutriment, in the +form of glistening dewdrops.</p> + +<p>The early morning in the coastal belt of New South Wales is rapture made +visible and responsive to one's faculties of touch, and smell, and hearing. And +yet---no. I believe I have used the wrong word. It would be rapture, belike, in +a Devon coomb, or on a Hampshire hill-top. Here it is hardly articulate or +sprightly enough for rapture. Rather, I should say, it is the perfection of +pellucid serenity. It lacks the full-throated eternal youthfulness of dawn in +the English countryside; but, for calmly exquisite serenity, it is matchless. +To my mind it is grateful as cold water is to a heated, tired body. It smooths +out the creases of the mind, and is wonderfully calming. Yet it has none of the +intimate, heart-stirring kindliness of England's rural scenery. No untamed land +has that. Nature may be grand, inspiring, bracing, terrifying, what you will. +She is never simply kind and loving--whatever the armchair poets may say. A +countryside must be humanised, and that through many successive generations, +before it can lay hold upon your heart by its loving-kindness, and draw +moisture from your eyes. It is not the emotionless power of Nature, but man's +long-suffering patient toil in Nature's realm that gives our English +country-side this quality.</p> + +<p>But my rugged, unkempt bush here is nobly serene and splendidly calm in the +dawn hours. It makes me feel rather like an ant, but a well-doing and unworried +ant. And I enjoy it greatly. As I stride among the drenching scrub, and over +ancient logs which, before I was born, stood erect and challenged all the winds +that blow, I listen for the sound of his bell, and then call to my friend +Punch:</p> + +<p>'Choop! Choop! Choop, Punch! Come away, boy! Come away! Choop! Choop!'</p> + +<p>But not too loudly, and not at all peremptorily. For I do not really want +him to come, or, at least, not too hurriedly. That would cut my morning +pleasure short. No; I prefer to find Punch half a mile from home, and I think +the rascal knows it. For sometimes I catch glimpses of him between the +tree-trunks--we have myriads of cabbage-tree palms, tree-ferns, and bangalow +palms, among the eucalypti hereabouts--and always, if we are less than a +quarter of a mile or so from home, it is his rounded haunches that I see, and +he is walking slowly away from me, listening to my call, and doubtless grinning +as he chews his cud--a great ruminator is my Punch.</p> + +<p>At other times, when it chances that dawn has found him a full half mile +from home, he does not walk away from me, but stands behind the bole of a great +tree, looking round its side, listening, waiting, and studiously refraining +from the slightest move in my direction, until I am within twenty paces of him. +Then, with a loud whinny, rather like a child's 'Peep-bo!' in intent, I think, +he will walk quickly up to me, wishing me the top of the morning, and holding +out his head for the halter which I always carry on these occasions.</p> + +<p>In the first months of our acquaintance I used to clamber on to his back +forthwith, and ride home. He knows I cannot quite manage that now, and so walks +with me, rubbing at my shoulders the while with his grass-stained, dewy lips, +till we see a suitable stump or log, from which I can conveniently mount him. +Then, with occasional thrusts round of his head to nuzzle one of my ankles, or +to snatch a tempting bit of greenery, he carries me home, and together--for he +superintends this operation with the most close and anxious care, his foreparts +well inside the feed-house--we mix his breakfast, first in an old four-gallon +oil-can, and then in the manger, and I sit beside him and smoke a cigarette +till the meal is well under weigh.</p> + +<p>I have made Punch something of a gourmand, and each meal has to contain, +besides its foundation of wheaten chaff and its <em>pičce de résistance</em> of +cracked maize, a flavouring of oats--say, three double handfuls--and a thorough +sprinkling, well rubbed in, of bran. If the proportions are wrong, or any of +the constituents of the meal lacking, Punch snorts, whinnies, turns his rump to +the manger, and demands my instant attention. I was intensely amused one day +when, sitting in the slab and bark stable, through whose crevices seeing and +hearing are easy, to overhear the mail-man telling Mrs. Blades that, upon his +Sam, I was for all the world like an old maid with her canary in the way I +dry-nursed that blessed horse; by ghost, I was! He was particularly struck, was +this good man, by my insane practice of sometimes taking Punch for a walk in +the bush, as though he were a dog, and without ever mounting him.</p> + +<p>Punch provided for, my own ablutions are performed in the wood-shed, where I +have learned to bathe with the aid of a sponge and a bucket of water, and have +a shower worked by a cord connected with a perforated nail-can. By this time my +billy-can is probably spluttering over the hearth, and I make tea and toast, +after possibly eating an orange. And so the day is fairly started, and I am +free to think, to read, to write, or to enjoy idleness, after a further chat +with Punch when turning him out to graze. My wood-chopping I do either before +breakfast or towards the close of the day; the latter, I think, more often than +the former. It makes a not unpleasant salve for the conscience of a mainly idle +man, after the super-fatted luxury of afternoon tea and a biscuit or scone.</p> + +<p>An Australian bushman would call my tea no more than water bewitched, and my +small pinch of China leaves in an infuser spoon but a mean mockery of his own +generous handful of black Indian leaves, well stewed in a billy to a strength +suited for hide-tanning. Of this inky mixture he will cheerfully consume +(several times a day) a quart, as an aid to the digestion of a pound or two of +corned beef, with pickles and other deadly things, none of which seem to do him +much harm. And if they should, the result rather amuses and interests him than +otherwise; for, of all amateur doctors (and lawyers), he is the most +enthusiastic and ingenuous. He will tell you (with the emphatic winks, nods, +and gestures of a man of research who has made a wonderful discovery, and, out +of the goodness of his heart, means to let you into the secret) of some patent +medicine which is already advertised, generally offensively, in every newspaper +in the land; and, having explained how it made a new man of him, will very +likely insist with kindly tyranny upon buying you a flagon of the costly +rubbish.</p> + +<p>'I assure you, Mr. Freydon, you won't know yourself after takin' a bottle or +two of Simpkins's Red Marvel.' I agree cordially, well assured that in such a +case I should not care to know myself. 'Why, there was a chap down Sydney way, +Newtown I think it was he lived in, or it mighter bin Balmain. Crooil bad he +was till they put him on to the Red Marvel. Fairly puzzled the doctors, he did, +an' all et up with sores, somethin' horrible. Well, I tell you, I wouldn't be +without a bottle in my camp. Sooner go without 'baccy. An', not only that, but +it's such comfortin' stuff is the Red Marvel. Every night o' my life I takes a +double dose of it now; sick or sorry, well or ill--an' look at me! I useter to +swear by Blick's Backache Pills; but now, I wouldn't have them on me mind. +They're no class at all, be this stuff. Give me Simpkins's Red Marvel, every +time, an' I don't care if it snows! You try it, Mr. Freydon. I was worsen you +afore I struck it; an' now, why, I wouldn't care to call the Queen me aunt!' +(His father before him, in Queen Victoria's reign, had no doubt used this +quaint phrase, and it was not for him to alter it because of any such trifling +episodes as the accession of other sovereigns.)</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>I gladly abide by my word of yesterday. The portion of my days here in the +bush which I like best is the dawn time. But the nights have their good, +and--well--and their less good times, too. My evening meal is apt to be +sketchy. There is a special vein of laziness in me which makes me shirk the +setting out of plates and cutlery, and, even more, their removal when used; +despite the fact that I have had, perhaps, rather more experience than most men +of catering for myself. Hence, the evening meal is apt to be sketchy; a furtive +and far from creditable performance, with the vessels of the midday meal for +its background.</p> + +<p>Then, with a sense of relief, I shut the door upon that episode, and the +evidences thereof, and betake me to the room which is really mine; where the +big hearth is, and the camp-bed, and the writing-table, the books, and the big +Ceylon-made lounge-chair. The first evening pipe is nearly always good; the +second may be flavoured with melancholy, but yet is seldom unpleasing. The +third--there are decent intervals between--bears me company in bed, with +whatever book may be occupying me at the time. The first hour in the big chair +and the first hour in bed are both exceedingly good when I am anything like +well. I would not say which is the better of the two, lest I provoke a Nemesis. +Both are excellent in their different ways.</p> + +<p>Nine times out of ten I can be asleep within half an hour of dousing the +candle, and it is seldom I wake before three hours have passed. After that come +hours of which it is not worth while to say much. They are far from being one's +best hours. And then, more often than not, will come another blessed two hours, +or even more, of unconsciousness, before the first purple grey forecasts of a +new day call me out into the bush for my morning lesson in serenity: Nature's +astringent message to egoists and all the sedentary, introspective tribe, that +bids us note our own infinite insignificance, our utter and microscopical +unimportance in her great scheme of things, and her sublime indifference to our +individual lives; to say nothing of our insectile hopes, fears, imaginings, +despairs, joys, and other forms of mental and emotional travail.</p> + +<p>It may or may not be evidence of mental exhaustion or indolence, but I +notice that I have experienced here no inclination to read anything that is new +to me. I have read a good deal under this roof, including a quite surprising +amount of fiction; but nothing, I think, that I had not read before. During +bouts of illness here, I have indulged in such debauches as the rereading of +the whole of Hardy, Meredith, Stevenson, W. E. Henley's poems, and the novels +of George Gissing, Joseph Conrad, and H. G. Wells. Some of the better examples +of modern fiction have always had a special topographical appeal to me. I +greatly enjoy the work of a writer who has set himself to treat a given +countryside exhaustively. This, more even than his masterly irony, his +philosophy, his remarkable fullness of mind and opulent allusiveness, has been +at the root of the immense appeal Hardy's work makes to me. ('Q,' in a +different measure, of course, makes a similar appeal.) Let the Wessex master +forsake his countryside, or leave his peasants for gentlefolk, and immediately +my interest wanes, his wonderful appeal fails.</p> + +<p>Since I have been here in the bush I have understood, as never before, the +great and far-reaching popularity of Thomas Hardy's work among Americans. He +gives so much which not all the wealth, nor all the genius of that inventive +race, can possibly evolve out of their New World. But, upon the whole, I ought +not to have brought my fine, tall rank of Hardy's here, still less to have +pored over them as I have. There is that second edition of <em>Far From the +Madding Crowd</em> now, with its delicious woodcuts by H. Paterson. It is dated +1874--I was a boy then, newly arrived in this antipodean land--and the +frontispiece shows Gabriel Oak soliciting Bathsheba: 'Do you happen to want a +shepherd, ma'am?' No, I cannot say my readings of Hardy have been good for me +here. There is <em>Jude the Obscure</em> now, a masterpiece of heart-bowing +tragedy that. And, especially insidious in my case, there are passages like +this from that other tragedy in the idyllic vein, <em>The Woodlanders</em>:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Winter in a solitary house in the country, +without society, is tolerable, nay, even enjoyable and delightful, given +certain conditions; but these are not the conditions which attach to the life +of a professional man who drops down into such a place by mere accident.... +They are old association--an almost exhaustive biographical or historical +acquaintance with every object, animate and inanimate, within the observer's +horizon. He must know all about those invisible ones of the days gone by, whose +feet have traversed the fields which look so grey from his windows; recall +whose creaking plough has turned those sods from time to time; whose hands +planted the trees that form a crest to the opposite hill; whose horses and +hounds have torn through that underwood; what birds affect that particular +brake; what bygone domestic dramas of love, jealousy, revenge, or +disappointment have been enacted in the cottages, the mansions, the street, or +on the green. The spot may have beauty, grandeur, salubrity, convenience; but +if it lack memories it will ultimately pall upon him who settles there without +opportunity of intercourse with his kind.</em></p> + +<p>No, that was not discreet reading for a dyspeptic man of letters, alone in a +two-roomed gunyah in the midst of virgin bush, in a land where the respectably +old dates back a score of years, the historic, say, fifty years, and 'the mists +of antiquity' a bare century. One recollection inevitably aroused by such a +passage brought to mind words comparatively recent, spoken by Mrs. +Oldcastle:</p> + +<p>'In the Old World, even for a man who lives alone on a mountain-top, there +is more of intellectuality--in the very atmosphere, in the buildings and roads, +the hedges and the ditches--than the best cities of the New World have to +offer.'</p> + +<p>Quite apart from its grimly ironic philosophy, the topography, the earthy +quality--'take of English earth as much as either hand may rightly clutch'--of +the Wessex master's work makes it indigestible reading for an exile of more +than thirty or forty; unless, of course, he is of the fine and robust type, +whose minds and constitutions function with the steadiness of a good +chronometer, warranted for all climes and circumstances.</p> + +<p>But this mention of Hardy reminds me of a curious literary coincidence which +I stumbled upon a few months ago. For me, at all events, it was a discovery. I +was reading, quite idly, the story which should long since have been dramatised +for the stage, <em>The Trumpet Major</em>, written, if I mistake not, in the +early 'nineties. I came to chapter xxiii., which opens in this wise:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Christmas had passed. Dreary winter with dark +evenings had given place to more dreary winter with light evenings. Rapid thaws +had ended in rain, rain in wind, wind in dust. Showery days had come--the +season of pink dawns and white sunsets....</em></p> + +<p>This reading was part of my Hardy debauch. A week or two earlier I had been +reading what I think was his first book, written a quarter of a century before +<em>The Trumpet Major</em>. I refer to <em>Desperate Remedies</em>; with all +its faults, an extraordinarily full and finished production for a first book. +Now, with curiosity in my very finger-tips, I turned over the pages of this +volume, reread no more than a week previously. I came presently upon chapter +xii., and, following upon its first sentence, read these words:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Christmas had passed; dreary winter with dark +evenings had given place to more dreary winter with light evenings. Thaws had +ended in rain, rain in wind, wind in dust. Showery days had come--the period of +pink dawns and white sunsets....</em></p> + +<p>That (with a quarter of a century, the writing of many books, and the +building up of a justly great and world-wide reputation between the two +writings) strikes me as a singular, and, in a way, pleasing literary +coincidence; singular, as a freak of subconscious memory for words, pleasing, +as a verification in mature life of the writer's comparatively youthful +observations of natural phenomena. I wonder if the author, or any others among +his almost innumerable readers, have chanced to light upon this particular +coincidence!</p> + +<p>Another writer of fiction, whose bent of mind, if sombre, was far from +devoid of ironical humour, has occupied a deal of my leisure here--George +Gissing. I rank him very high among the Victorian novelists. His work deserves +a higher place than it is usually accorded by the critics. He was a fine +story-teller, and for me (though their topographical appeal is not, perhaps, +very obvious) his books are very closely packed with living human interest. But +again, for such an one as myself, so situated, I would not say that a course of +Gissing formed particularly wholesome or digestible reading. Here, for example, +is a passage associated in my recollection with a night which was among the +worst I have spent in this place:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>He thought of the wretched millions of mankind +to whom life is so barren that they must needs believe in a recompense beyond +the grave. For that he neither looked nor longed. The bitterness of his lot was +that this world might be a sufficing Paradise to him, if only he could clutch a +poor little share of current coin....</em></p> + +<p>No, for such folk as I, that was not good reading. But--and let this be my +tribute to an author who won my very sincere esteem and respect--when morning +had come, after a bad night, and I had had my dawn lesson from Nature, and my +converse with Punch, I turned me to another volume of Gissing, and with a +quieter mind read this:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Below me, but far off, is the summer sea, +still, silent, its ever changing blue and green dimmed at the long limit with +luminous noon-tide mist. Inland spreads the undulant vastness of the +sheep-spotted downs; beyond them the tillage and the woods of Sussex weald, +coloured like to the pure sky above them, but in deeper tint. Near by, all but +hidden among trees in yon lovely hollow, lies an old, old hamlet, its brown +roofs decked with golden lichen; I see the low church tower, and the little +graveyard about it. Meanwhile, high in the heaven, a lark is singing. It +descends, it drops to its nest, and I could dream that half the happiness of +its exultant song was love of England....</em></p> + +<p>That is his little picture of a recollection of summer. And then, returning +to his realities of the moment, this miscalled 'savage' pessimist and 'pitiless +realist' continues thus:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>It is all but dark. For a quarter of an hour I +must have been writing by a glow of firelight reflected on my desk; it seemed +to me the sun of summer. Snow is still falling. I can see its ghostly glimmer +against the vanishing sky. To-morrow it will be thick upon my garden, and +perchance for several days. But when it melts, when it melts, it will leave the +snow-drop. The crocus, too, is waiting, down there under the white mantle which +warms the earth.</em></p> + +<p>But I would not say that even this was well-chosen reading for me--here in +my bush hermitage--any more than is that masterpiece of Kipling's later +concentration, <em>An Habitation Enforced</em>, followed by its inimitable +<em>Recall</em>:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>I am the land of their fathers,<br /> +</em><em>In me the virtue stays;<br /> +</em><em>I will bring back my children</em><em><br /> +After certain days.</em></p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>* * * * *</em><em><br /> +Till I make plain the meaning</em><em><br /> +Of all my thousand years--</em><em><br /> +Till I fill their hearts with knowledge,</em><em><br /> +While I fill their eyes with tears.</em></p> + +<p>No, nor yet, despite its healing potency in its own place, the same master +craftsman's counsel to the whole restless, uneasy, sedentary brood among his +countrymen:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Take of English earth as much<br /> +</em><em>As either hand may rightly clutch,<br /> +</em><em>In the taking of it breathe<br /> +</em><em>Prayer for all who lie beneath--<br /> +</em><em>Lay that earth upon your heart,</em><em><br /> +And your sickness shall depart!</em><em><br /> +It shall mightily restrain</em><em><br /> +Over busy hand and brain,</em><em><br /> +Till thyself restored shall prove</em><em><br /> +By what grace the heavens do move.</em></p> + +<p>None of these good things are wholly good for me, here and now, +because--because, for example, they recall a prophecy of Mrs. Oldcastle's, and +the grounds upon which she based it.</p> + +<p>Who should know better than I, that if my life-long mental restlessness +chances, when I am less well than usual, or darkness is upon me, to take the +form of nostalgia, with clinging, pulling thoughts of England--never of the +London I knew so well, but always of the rural England I knew so little, from +actual personal experience, yet loved so well--who should know better than I +(sinning against the light in the writing of this unpardonably involved +sentence) that such restlessness, such nostalgia, are no more based upon reason +than is a bilious headache. The philosopher should, and does, scorn such an +itch of the mind, well knowing that were he foolish enough to let it affect his +actions or guide his conduct he would straightway cease to be a philosopher, +and become instead a sort of human shuttlecock, for ever tossing here and +there, from pillar to post, under the unreasoning blows of that battledore +which had been his mind. Nay, rather the strappado for me, at any time, than +abandonment to foolishness so crass as this would be.</p> + +<p>Over and above all this I deliberately chose my 'way out,' and it is good. I +am assured the life of this my hermitage is one better suited to the man I am +to-day than any other life I could hope to lead elsewhere. The mere thought of +such a fate as a return to the maelstrom of London journalism--is it not a +terror to me, and a thing to chill the heart like ice? Here is peace all about +me, at all events, and never a semblance of pretence or sham. And if I, my +inner self, cannot find peace here, where peace so clearly is, what should it +profit me to go seeking it where peace is not visible at all, and where all +that is visible is turmoil, hurry, and fret?</p> + +<p>Australia is a good land. Its bush is beautiful; its men and women are +sterling and kindly, and its children more blessed (even though, perhaps, +rather more indulged) than the children of most other lands. For the +wage-earner who earns his living by his hands, and purposes always to do so, I +deliberately think this is probably the best country in all the world. It is +his own country. He rules it in every sense of the word; and there is no class, +institution, or individual exercising any mastery over him. Millionaires are +scarce here, and so perhaps are men brilliant in any direction. But really poor +folk, hungry folk, folk who must fight for bare sustenance, are not merely +scarce--they are unknown in this land.</p> + +<p>That is a great thing to be able to say for any country, and surely one +which should materially affect the peace of mind of every thinking creature in +it. Whilst very human, and hence by no means perfect, the people of this +country have about them a pervasive kindliness, which is something finer than +simple good nature and hospitality. The people as a whole are sincerely +possessed by guiding ideals of kindness and justice. The means by which they +endeavour to bring about realisation of their ideals are, I believe, +fundamentally wrong and mistaken in a number of cases. Their 'ruling' class is +naturally new to the task of ruling, recruited as it is from trade union ranks. +But they truly desire, as a people, that every person in their midst should be +given a fair, sporting chance in life. 'A fair thing!' In three words one has +the national ideal, and who shall say that it is not an admirable one, +remembering that its foundation and mainspring are kindness, and if not +justice, then desire for justice?</p> + +<p>'All this is very worthy, no doubt, but deadly dull. Does it not make for +desperate attenuation on the artistic and intellectual side? Beautifully level +and even, I dare say; like a paving stone, and about as interesting.'</p> + +<p>Thus, my old friend Heron in a recent letter. The dear fellow would smile if +I told him he was a member of England's privileged classes. But it is true, of +course. Well, Australia has no privileged classes--and no submerged class. I +admit that the highest artistic and intellectual levels of the New World are +greatly lower than the highest artistic and intellectual levels of the Old +World. But what of the average level, speaking of the populace as a whole? How +infinitely higher are Australia's lowest levels than the depths, the ultimate +pit in Merry England!</p> + +<p>I am an uneasy, restless creature, mentally and bodily. I have not quite +finished as yet the task, deliberation upon which, when it is completed, is to +bring me rest and self-understanding. Vague hungers by the way are incidents of +no more permanent importance than one's periodical colds in the head. To +complain of intellectual barrenness in any given environment must surely be to +confess intellectual barrenness in the complainant. I am well placed here in my +bush hermitage. And, in short, <em>Je suis, je reste!</em></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>It is just thirteen days since I sat down before these papers, pen in hand; +thirteen days since I wrote a word. A few months ago I suppose such delay would +have worried me a good deal. To-day, for some reason, the fact seems quite +unimportant, and does not distress me in the least. Have I then advanced so far +towards self-comprehension as to have attained content of mind? Or is this +merely the mental lethargy which follows bodily weakness and exhaustion? I do +not know.</p> + +<p>I have been ill again. It is a nuisance having to send for a doctor, because +his fees are extremely high, and he has to come a good long way. Also, I do not +think the good man's visits are of the slightest service to me. I have been +living for twelve days exclusively upon milk; a healing diet, I dare say, but I +have come to weary of the taste and sight of it, and its effect upon me is the +reverse of stimulation. But I am in no wise inclined to cavil, for I am +entirely free from pain at the moment; the weather is perfectly glorious, and +my neighbours, Blades and his wife, are in their homely fashion extremely kind +to me.</p> + +<p>My one source of embarrassment is that Ash, the timber-getter in the camp +across the creek, is continually bringing me expensive bottles of Simpkins's +Red Marvel, his genuine kindness necessitating not only elaborate pretences of +regularly consuming his pernicious specific for every human ill, from +consumption and 'bad legs' to snake-bites, but also periodical discussions with +him of all my confounded symptoms--a topic which wearies me almost to tears. +Indeed, I prefer the symptoms of Ash's friend in Newtown--or was it +Balmain?--who was 'all et up with sores, something horrible.'</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the brilliant sunshine and cloudless skies of this month, +the weather has been exquisitely fresh and cool, and my log fire has never once +been allowed to go out, Blades, with the kindness of a man who can respect +another's fads, having kept me richly supplied with logs. Mrs. Blades has been +feeding Punch for me, and at least twice each day that genial rascal has +neighed long and loudly at the slip-rails by the stable, as I believe in +friendly greeting to me. I shall, no doubt, presently feel strong enough to +walk out and have a talk with Punch.</p> + +<p>My last letter from Mrs. Oldcastle, written no more than a month ago--the +mail service to Australia is improving--tells me that the park in London is +looking lovely, all gay with spring foliage and blooms. She says that unless I +intend being rude enough to falsify her prophecy, I must now be preparing to +pack my bags and book my passage home. Home! Well, Ash, whose father like +himself was born here, calls England 'Home,' I find. This is one of the most +lovable habits of the children of our race all over the world.</p> + +<p>But obviously it would be a foolish and stultifying thing for me to think of +leaving my hermitage. I am not rich enough to indulge in what folk here call 'A +trip Home.' And as for finally withdrawing from my 'way out,' and returning to +settle in England, how could such a step possibly be justified upon practical +grounds? The circumstances which led me to leave England are fundamentally as +they were. Mrs. Oldcastle-- But all that was thoroughly thought out before she +left the <em>Oronta</em> at Adelaide; and to-day I am less--less able, shall I +say, than I was then?</p> + +<p>It is singular that these few days in bed should have stolen so much of my +strength. The mere exertion, if that it may be called, of writing these few +lines leaves me curiously exhausted; yet they have been written extraordinarily +slowly for me. My London life made me a quick writer. I wonder if leisure and +ease of mind would have made me a good one!</p> + +<p>I shall lay these papers aside for another day. Perhaps even for two or +three days. Blades has kindly moved my bed for me to the side of the best +window, which faces north-east; in the Antipodes, a very pleasant aspect. I +shall not actually 'go to bed' again in the day-time, but I think I will lie on +the bed beside that open window. Sitting upright at the table here I feel, not +pain, but a kind of aching weakness which I escape when lying down.</p> + +<p>And yet, though not worried about it, I am rather sorry still farther to +neglect this desultory task of mine, even for a day or two. The tree-tops are +tossing bravely in the westerly wind this morning, and it is well that my +banana clump has all the shelter of the gunyah, or its graceful leaves would +suffer. The big cabbage palm outside the verandah makes a curious, dry, +parchment-like crackling in the wind. But the three silver tree-ferns have a +cool, swishing note, very pleasing to the ear; while for the bush trees beyond, +theirs is the steady music of the sea on a sandy beach. I fancy this wind must +be a shade too boisterous to be good for Blades's orange orchard. At all events +it brings a strong citrus scent this way, after bustling across the side of +Blades's hill.</p> + +<p>There can be no doubt about it that this mine hermitage is very beautifully +situated. Any man of discernment should be well content here to bide. The air +about me is full of a nimble sweetness, and as utterly free from impurity as +the air one breathes in mid-ocean. More, it is impregnated by the tonic +perfumes of all the myriad aromatic growths that surround my cottage. Men say +the Australian bush is singularly soulless; starkly devoid of the elements of +interest and romance which so strongly endear to the hearts of those dwelling +there the countryside in such Old World lands as the England of my birth. +Maybe. Yet I have met men, both native-born and alien-born, who have dearly +loved Australia; loved the land so well as to return to it, even after many +days.</p> + +<p>England! Of all the place names, the names of countries that the world has +known, was ever one so simply magic as this--England? Surely not. How the +tongue caresses it! In the past it has always seemed to me that the question of +a man's place of birth was infinitely more significant and important than the +mere matter of where he died, of where his bones were laid. And yet, even that +matter of the resting-place for a man's bones.... Undoubtedly, there is magic +in English earth. England! Thank God I was born in England!</p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<h3><a name="EDITOR" id="EDITOR">EDITOR'S NOTE</a></h3> + +<p></p> + +<p></p> + +<p>Here the written record of my friend's life ends, though it clearly was not +part of his design that this should be its end. Thanks to Mrs. Blades, I have a +record of the date of Freydon's last writing. It came two days before his own +end. He died alone, and, by the estimate of the doctor from Peterborough, at +about daybreak. The doctor thought it likely that he passed away in his sleep; +of all ends, the one he would have chosen.</p> + +<p>So far as my own observation informs me, the death of Nicholas Freydon was +noted by no more than three English journals: two of the oldest morning +newspapers in London, and that literary weekly which, despite the commercial +fret and fume of our time, has so far preserved itself from the indignity of +any attempted blending of books with haberdashery or 'fancy goods.' Had Freydon +died in England, I apprehend that a somewhat larger circle of newspaper readers +might have been advertised of the fact. But I would not willingly be understood +to suggest any kind of reproach in this.</p> + +<p>It would probably be correct to say that the writings of Nicholas Freydon +never have reached the many-headed public, whose favour gives an author's name +weight in circulating libraries and among the gentlemen of 'The Trade.' He had +no illusions on this point, and of late years at all events cherished no dreams +of fame or immortality. But it is equally correct to say that he was genuinely +a man of letters, and there is a circle of more or less fastidious readers who +are aware that everything published under Freydon's name was, from the literary +standpoint, worth while.</p> + +<p>For me the news of Freydon's end had something more than literary +significance. There was a period during which we shared an office room, and I +recall with peculiar satisfaction the fact that it was no kind of friction or +difficulty between us which brought an end to that working companionship. The +much longer period over which our friendship extended was marred by no quarrel, +nor even by any lapse into mutual indifference. And it may be admitted, in all +affectionate respect, that Freydon was not exactly of those who are said to +'get on with any one.'</p> + +<p>In the matter of my own recent journey to Australia, the thing which I +looked forward to with keenest interest was the opportunity I thought it would +afford me of seeing and talking with Freydon, in his chosen retreat in the +Antipodes, and judging of his welfare there. And then, on the eve of my +departure, came the news that he was no more.</p> + +<p>Under the modest roof which had sheltered him, on the coast of northern New +South Wales, I presently spent two quiet and thoughtful weeks, given for the +most part to the perusal of his papers, which, along with his other personal +effects, he had bequeathed to me. (His remaining property was left to the +friend whose name is given here as Sidney Heron.)</p> + +<p>Before I left that lonely, sunny spot, I had practically decided to pass on +to such members of the reading world as might be interested therein what seemed +to me the more salient and important of these papers: the bulky document which +forms a record of its writer's life. Afterwards, as was inevitable, came much +reflection, and at times some hesitancy. But, when all is done, and the proof +sheets lie before me, my conviction is that I decided rightly out there in the +bush; and that something is inherent in these last writings of Nicholas +Freydon's which, properly understood, demands and deserves the test of +publication. Therefore, they are made available to the public, in the belief +that some may be the richer and the kindlier for reading them.</p> + +<p>But, for revising, altering, dove-tailing, or shaping these papers, with a +view to the attainment of an orthodox form of literary production, whether in +the guise of autobiography, life-story, dramatic fiction, or what not, I desire +explicitly to disclaim all thought of such a pretension. As I see it, that +would have been an impertinence. I cannot claim to know what Freydon's +intentions may have been regarding the ultimate disposition of these papers, +having literally no other information on the point than they themselves +furnish. Needless to say they would not be published now if I had any kind of +reason to believe, or to suspect, that my friend would have resented such a +course.</p> + +<p>But I will say that, in the writing, I do not think Freydon had considered +the question of publication. I do not think that in these last exercises of his +pen he wrote consciously for the printer and the public. As those who know his +published work are aware, he was much given to literary allusiveness and to +quotation. In these papers such characteristic pages did occur, it is true, but +in practically every case they had been scrawled over in pencil, and have been +studiously omitted by me in my preparation of the manuscript for the press. +Here and there it was clear that entire pages had been removed and apparently +destroyed by their writer.</p> + +<p>Again, in this record, Freydon--always in his writings for the press, +literary and journalistic, meticulous in the matter of constructive +detail--clearly gave no thought to the arrangement of chapters or other +divisions. He wrote of his life, as he has said, to enable himself to see it as +a whole. For my part I have felt a natural delicacy about intruding so far as +to introduce chapter headings or the like. It was easy for me to note the +points at which the writer had laid aside his pen, presumably at the day's end, +for there a portion of a sheet was left blank, and sometimes a zig-zag line was +drawn. At these points then, where the writer himself paused, I have allowed +the pause to appear. And this, in effect, represents the sum of my small +contribution to the volume; for I have altered nothing, added nothing, and +taken nothing away, beyond those previously mentioned passages (literary rather +than documentary) which the author's own pencil had marked for deletion; the +removal, where these occurred, of references to myself; and the substitution, +where that seemed desirable, of imaginary proper names for the names of actual +places and living people as written by my friend.</p> + +<p>Two other points, and the task which for me has certainly been a labour of +love, is done.</p> + +<p>Nicholas Freydon was perfectly correct in his belief that he might have +wooed and won the lady who is referred to in these pages as Mrs. Oldcastle. In +this, as in other episodes of his life which happen to be known to me, the +motives behind his self-abnegation were in the highest degree creditable to +him. This I have been asked to say, and I am glad to say it.</p> + +<p>Among Freydon's papers was one which, for a time, greatly puzzled me. Once I +had learned precisely what this paper meant, it became for me most deeply +significant, knowing as I did that it must have been lying where I found it, in +a drawer of Freydon's work-table, while he wrote, immediately before his last +illness, the final sections of this work, including its penultimate chapter; +including, therefore, such passages as these:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><em>Over and above all this I deliberately chose my +'way out,' and it is good. I am assured the life of this my hermitage is one +better suited to the man I am to-day than any other life I could hope to lead +elsewhere.... And if I, my inner self, cannot find peace here, where peace so +clearly is, what should it profit me to go seeking it where peace is not +visible at all, and where all that is visible is turmoil, hurry, and fret.... +And, in short,</em> Je suis, je reste! <em>... England! Of all the place names, +the names of countries that the world has ever known, was ever one so simply +magic as this--England? ...</em></p> + +<p>This document was a certificate entitling Freydon to a passage to England by +an Orient line steamer. Upon inquiry at the offices of the line in Sydney, I +found that, twenty-eight days before his death, my friend had booked and paid +for a passage to London. At his request no berth had been allotted, and no date +fixed. But, by virtue of the payment then made, he was assured of a passage +home when he should choose to claim it. To my mind this discovery was one of +peculiar interest, considered in the light of the concluding pages of that +record of Nicholas Freydon's thoughts and experiences which is presented in +this volume.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pg"> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECORD OF NICHOLAS FREYDON***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 30704-h.txt or 30704-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/7/0/30704">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/0/30704</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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