Essayists From England

"Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain."

"In literature, in art, in life, I think that the only conclusions worth coming to are one's own conclusions . If they march with the verdict of the connoisseurs , so much the better for the connoisseurs ; if they do not so march , so much the better for oneself."

"Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness, Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day; Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty, A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain!"

"Here's the lily, here the rose Her full chalice shall disclose; Here's narcissus wet with dew, Windflower and the violet blue. Wear the garland I have made; Crowned with it, put pride away; For the wreath that blooms must fade; Thou thyself must fade some day, Rhodocleia."

"To be so closely caught up in the teeth of things that they kill you, no matter how infinitesimally kill you, is, truly, to be a poet: and to be a poet in fact it is additionally necessary that you should possess the tongues and instruments with which to record this series of infinitesimal deaths."

"Thank God I'm alive In the light of the Sun! It's a quarter to five; Thank God I'm alive! Now the hum of the hive Of the world has begun, Thank God I'm alive In the light of the Sun!"

"I, born in Essex thirty-four Essentially sexual years ago, Stepped down, looked around, and saw I had been cast a little low In the social register For the friends whom I now know. Is a constable a mister? Bob's your uncle, even so."

"A good play is a play which, when acted upon the boards, makes an audience interested and pleased. A play that fails in this is a bad play."

"If you would know what the Lord God thinks of money, you have only to look at those to whom He gives it."

"Turn on your side and bear the day to me Beloved, sceptre-struck, immured In the glass wall of sleep. Slowly Uncloud the borealis of your eye And show your iceberg secrets, your midnight prizes To the green-eyed world and to me."

"I wish I was dead, And lay deep in the grave. I've a pain in my head, I wish I was dead. In a coffin of lead— With the Wise and the Brave— I wish I was dead, And lay deep in the grave."

"Lord Saint-Edith said he couldn't understand people thinking Bacon had written Shakespeare's plays. If they said Shakespeare had written the works of Bacon as a pastime he could understand it."

"[T]here is a vast difference between games and play. Play is played for fun, but games are deadly serious, and you do not play them to enjoy yourself."

"Whoever one is, and wherever one is, one is always in the wrong if one is rude."

"My one, my one, my only love, Hide, hide your face in a leaf, And let the hot tear falling burn The stupid heart that will not learn The everywhere of grief."

"In Mozart and Salieri we see the contrast between the genius which does what it must and the talent which does what it can."

"[The office of the interpreter] is to read Scripture like any other book."

"Nowhere probably is there more true feeling, and nowhere worse taste, than in a churchyard (p. 244)."

"Research! Research! A mere excuse for idleness; it has never achieved, and will never achieve any results of the slightest value."

"We have sought truth, and sometimes perhaps found it. But have we had any fun?"

"Learn just enough of the subject [metaphysics] to enable your mind to get rid of it."

"Doubt comes in at the window, when Inquiry is denied at the door."

"I hope our young men will not grow into such dodgers as these old men are. I believe everything that a young man says to me (p. 250)."

"Logic is neither a science nor an art, but a dodge."

"One man is as good as another until he has written a book."

"We cannot seek or attain health, wealth, learning, justice or kindness in general. Action is always specific, concrete, individualized, unique."

"He seemed to have taken the measure not merely of all opinions, but of all possible ones, and to have put the last refinements on literary expression. The charm of that was enhanced by a certain mystery about his own philosophic and other opinions. You know at that time his writings were thought by some to be obscure. These impressions of him had been derived from his Essays on St. Paul's Epistles, which at that time were much read and pondered by the more intellectual sort of undergraduates."

"A disciple of Socrates, he valued speech more highly than any other gift; yet he was always hampered by a conscious imperfection and by a difficulty in sustaining and developing his thoughts in society. Such was my diagnosis of his manner."

"His edition of St. Paul's Epistles made him an arch-heretic in the eyes of the High Church party, and his simultaneous appointment to the Greek Professorship gave the chance, of which its members were foolish enough to avail themselves, of putting him in the position of a martyr of free thought. His share in the Essays and Reviews (1860) made him a representative man in a wider sphere. Though we have now got to the stage of affecting astonishment at the sensation produced by the avowal of admitted truths in that work, nobody who remembers the time can doubt that it marked the appearance of a very important development of religious and philosophical thought. The controversy raised by Essays and Reviews even distracted men for a time from the far more important issues raised by the publication of Darwin's Origin of Species."

"Mr Jowett was always intent on improving his own character for the sake of his undergraduates. This is very rare in middle aged men and still more so in elderly and old men... [Jowett possessed] more character than any body I ever knew... He mastered life, life did not master him: that was what the spirit of life was in him. He was master even when most depressed."

"Mr Jowett's forte is mental philosophy. How has this or that metaphysical question presented itself to different minds, or to the same mind at different times? Under what contradictory aspects may a particular religious sentiment or moral truth be viewed? What phenomena does an individual mind exhibit at different stages in its growth? What contrasts do we find in the ancient and modern world of thought? This is the class of questions Mr Jowett delights to ask and to answer. He is strongly negative. He is fond of dwelling on contradictions rather than resemblances. He is content with stating a difficulty without attempting a solution of it."

"Divines have lately discovered how to accept the critical results which shocked readers of Essays and Reviews, and yet to accept the whole theory of priestly magic. The compromise may result in the enslavement of reason instead of the neutralising of superstition. I know not what may be the result to the Church of England, but the enterprise attempted in the best possible faith by Jowett and his friends, seems to be injurious to the higher interests of intellectual honesty. It was a hopeless endeavour to hide irreconcilable contrasts and pretend that they did not exist"

"The young Housman wrote home that he had absented himself from Jowett's lectures in disgust at the Professor's gross ignorance of Greeek. Here we must make allowance for a juvenile excess of rigour; but any page of the original edition of Jowett's famous translation of Plato will supply some evidence in favour of Housman's stern judgment. Even if one could forgive Jowett's deficiencies as a scholar and his reluctance to take action to amend them, what can we say of his openly expressed aversion to research, of his opposition to every scheme calculated to advance sound learning in the University, of his not only failing to perform what are usually held to be the duties of a Professor, but actually coming forward as the main adversary of the interests he might have been expected to protect? Yet it is impossible to ignore the distinctive contribution to the traditions of the Chair made by this remarkable man. The Plato and the Thucydides are defective in point of scholarship; but as literature they have great merits, and they reached, and still reach, a wide public."

"Jowler [Jowett] preached yesterday in Chapel amidst intense excitement, no people in Chapel. He looked so fatherly and beautiful and brought out the best bell-like silvern voice with quite rich tones that he had hitherto hidden in the depth of his stomach, and preached the most lovely little practical sermon in a quite perfect style with the most wonderful grace. I have only said all this laud in anticipation of having to confess that though I felt how beautiful it was in its way, it was most unsatisfying to me. It was just Platonism flavoured with a little Christian charity: Christianity is gutted by him: it becomes perfectly meaningless, if it is only an attempt to take some useful moral hints from just what happens to strike you in a very good, "perhaps I may be excused in saying" a Divine life. He is perfectly self-sufficient; self-dependent, without any consciousness of anything beyond a certain human weakness in carrying out his ideal; there is not an atom of the feeling of prayer, of communication with God, of reliance on any one but self. He even begs pardon for using as vague an expression as "sharing in the Spirit of God." I admire the Symposium with all my heart and soul; but I must have something more to have brought God down to death to procure for me."

"First come I. My name is J–W–TT. There's no knowledge but I know it. I am the Master of this College, What I don't know isn't knowledge."

"I have been very fortunate in this latter respect (Greek and Latin Composition), having got for my tutor the very best man in the University—Jowett, to whom it is pleasant in every way to be attached, both in regard of studies and of general intercourse."

"Young men, as a rule, like a leader who has some distinct aim, good or bad, and if Jowett were to be judged by that test one would say that no one of his time was less qualified to be a leader. To a distinct view of the importance of some solution he seems to have joined the profound conviction that no conceivable solution would hold water. "He stood," says one of his pupils, in a rather different sense, "at the parting of many ways," and he wrote, one must add, "No thoroughfare" upon them all."

"Jowett, in his day, did probably more than any other single man to let some fresh air into the exhausted atmosphere of the [Oxford] common rooms, and to widen the intellectual horizons of the place."

"He was a keen and formidable controversialist, and was usually found on what was, for the time, the unpopular side. His contribution (an essay on The Interpretation of Scripture) to the famous Essays and Reviews, which appeared in 1860, brought him into strong collision with powerful sections of theological opinion, to which he had already given offence by his commentaries on the Epistles to the Thessalonians, Galatians, and Romans. His views were, indeed, generally considered to be extremely latitudinarian. Latterly he exercised an extraordinary influence in the Univ., and was held in reverence by his pupils, many of whom have risen to eminence."

"In philosophy he was content to be critical; he saw that one philosophy had always been succeeded by another, and the leader of to-day was forgotten tomorrow; each therefore, he concluded, had grasped part of the truth, but not the whole truth. His speculations ended in compromise, and thus, here also, he was unfitted to be a leader. For himself he had almost a horror of falling under one set of ideas to the exclusion of others... Jowett only went a step beyond the philosopher who condemns all systems but his own. Yet indirectly he left his mark even on philosophy. By him his pupil T. H. Green was stimulated to the study of Hegel, and no influence has been greater in Oxford for the last thirty years than Green's. But the chief traces of Jowett's influence will be found in other spheres. His essays and translations must secure him a high place among the writers of his time, and in every history of English education in the second half of the nineteenth century he will occupy a prominent place."

"The [Oxford tourist] guide would begin: "This, ladies and gentlemen, is Balliol College, one of the very holdest in the huniversity, and famous for the herudition of its scholars. The 'ead of Balliol College is called the Master. The present Master of Balliol is the celebrated Professor Benjamin Jowett, Regius Professor of Greek. Those are Professor Jowett's study-windows, and there" (here the ruffian would stoop down, take up a handful of gravel and throw it against the panes, bringing poor Jowett, livid with fury, to the window) "ladies and gentlemen, is Professor Benjamin Jowett himself.""

"Faithfully, shrewdly, she has set down her records, and it is hard to say which is the more remarkable—the exactness and detail of the outward scene or the rare objectivity."

"[Over to Candleford is the] very essence of English life, faithful embroidery on the larger pattern of English history."

"What Flora Thompson depicts is the utter ruin of a closely knit organic society with a richly interwoven and traditional culture that had defied every change, every aggression, except the one that established the modern world. It is notable that, though husbandry itself plays little part in the trilogy, it is the story of the irreparable calamity of the English fields. In the shell of her concealed art we hear the thunder of an ocean of change, a change tragic indeed, since nothing has taken and nothing can take the place of what has gone."

"[P]erhaps the best memoir of a Victorian country up-bringing, Flora Thompson, Lark Rise to Candleford (Oxford, 1945)."

"In this tripartite book we distinguish three strata of social and economic period, cross-hatched by differences of social degree. In terms of geological time, the lowest stratum is the old order of rural England surviving rare but intact from a pre-industrial and pre-Enclosure past almost timeless in its continuity. The middle stratum, particularly represented in Lark Rise, discloses the old order impoverished, reduced in status, dispropertied but still clinging to the old values, loyalties, and domestic stabilities. The top stratum, symbolized in the row of new villas that began to link up Candleford Green with Candleford Town, is modern suburbia. This wholly novel class in itself had shed the older differentiations and possessed no rural background other than the accident of place. It was the vanguard of the city blackcoats and proletariat, governed by the mass-mind."

"[F]rom none will he savour so keenly the tang of the earth and feel so strongly the grip of its tyranny over most of those who lived by it, as from the trilogy of Flora Thompson, Lark Rise to Candleford (1945)."

"Our poet's singing lips are dumb: This his last gift, to us has brought The pain pressed vintage of his thought His life of song, his life of pain, And, being dead, he speaks again."

"Flora Thompson, who in the guise of Laura, the stonemason's daughter, has given us in Lark Rise to Candleford (first published in 1945) a truly remarkable evocation of Oxfordshire village and small-town life at the turn of the nineteenth century; probing profoundly into mentalités before that concept had even been invented, and depicting unforgettably how an organic society, with its special customs and ways of expression, yielded to the new economic and cultural forces of modernity. If the definition of greatness on the part of historians includes durability, then Flora Thompson, more widely read now than ever before, certainly qualifies, along with seemingly more exalted figures in the pantheon."

"[I]t was her three autobiographical novels that brought her fame—"Lark Rise" (1939), "Over to Candleford" (1941), and "Candleford Green" (1943). In this trilogy is preserved a picture of rural life of the 70's and 80's which has perhaps never been more truthfully or enchantingly portrayed."