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第3部分（第1页）

scullery　wench。　Give　me　the　same　ine　and　I　can　live；　but　I　am　poor　indeed。

You　tell　me　that　money　cannot　buy　the　things　most　precious。　Your　monplace　proves　that　you　have　never　known　the　lack　of　it。　When　I　think　of　all　the　sorrow　and　the　barrenness　that　has　been　wrought　in　my　life　by　want　of　a　few　more　pounds　per　annum　than　I　was　able　to　earn；　I　stand　aghast　at　moneys　significance。　What　kindly　joys　have　I　lost；　those　simple　forms　of　happiness　to　which　every　heart　has　claim；　because　of　poverty！　Meetings　with　those　I　loved　made　impossible　year　after　year；　sadness；　misunderstanding；　nay；　cruel　alienation；　arising　from　inability　to　do　the　things　I　wished；　and　which　I　might　have　done　had　a　little　money　helped　me；　endless　instances　of　homely　pleasure　and　contentment　curtailed　or　forbidden　by　narrow　means。　I　have　lost　friends　merely　through　the　constraints　of　my　position；　friends　I　might　have　made　have　remained　strangers　to　me；　solitude　of　the　bitter　kind；　the　solitude　which　is　enforced　at　times　when　mind　or　heart　longs　for　panionship；　often　cursed　my　life　solely　because　I　was　poor。　I　think　it　would　scarce　be　an　exaggeration　to　say　that　there　is　no　moral　good　which　has　not　to　be　paid　for　in　coin　of　the　realm。

〃Poverty；〃　said　Johnson　again；　〃is　so　great　an　evil；　and　pregnant　with　so　much　temptation；　so　much　misery；　that　I　cannot　but　earnestly　enjoin　you　to　avoid　it。〃

For　my　own　part；　I　needed　no　injunction　to　that　effort　of　avoidance。　Many　a　London　garret　knows　how　I　struggled　with　the　unwele　chamber…fellow。　I　marvel　she　did　not　abide　with　me　to　the　end；　it　is　a　sort　of　inconsequence　in　Nature；　and　sometimes　makes　me　vaguely　uneasy　through　nights　of　broken　sleep。

VI

How　many　more　springs　can　I　hope　to　see？　A　sanguine　temper　would　say　ten　or　twelve；　let　me　dare　to　hope　humbly　for　five　or　six。　That　is　a　great　many。　Five　or　six　spring…times；　weled　joyously；　lovingly　watched　from　the　first　celandine　to　the　budding　of　the　rose；　who　shall　dare　to　call　it　a　stinted　boon？　Five　or　six　times　the　miracle　of　earth　reclad；　the　vision　of　splendour　and　loveliness　which　tongue　has　never　yet　described；　set　before　my　gazing。　To　think　of　it　is　to　fear　that　I　ask　too　much。

VII

〃Homo　animal　querulum　cupide　suis　incumbens　miseriis。〃　I　wonder　where　that　es　from。　I　found　it　once　in　Charron；　quoted　without　reference；　and　it　has　often　been　in　my　mind……a　dreary　truth；　well　worded。　At　least；　it　was　a　truth　for　me　during　many　a　long　year。　Life；　I　fancy；　would　very　often　be　insupportable；　but　for　the　luxury　of　self…passion；　in　cases　numberless；　this　it　must　be　that　saves　from　suicide。　For　some　there　is　great　relief　in　talking　about　their　miseries；　but　such　gossips　lack　the　profound　solace　of　misery　nursed　in　silent　brooding。　Happily；　the　trick　with　me　has　never　been　retrospective；　indeed；　it　was　never；　even　with　regard　to　instant　suffering；　a　habit　so　deeply　rooted　as　to　bee　a　mastering　vice。　I　knew　my　own　weakness　when　I　yielded　to　it；　I　despised　myself　when　it　brought　me　fort；　I　could　laugh　scornfully；　even　〃cupide　meis　incumbens　miseriis。〃　And　now；　thanks　be　to　the　unknown　power　which　rules　us；　my　past　has　buried　its　dead。　More　than　that；　I　can　accept　with　sober　cheerfulness　the　necessity　of　all　I　lived　through。　So　it　was　to　be；　so　it　was。　For　this　did　Nature　shape　me；　with　what　purpose；　I　shall　never　know；　but；　in　the　sequence　of　things　eternal；　this　was　my　place。

Could　I　have　achieved　so　much　philosophy　if；　as　I　ever　feared；　the　closing　years　of　my　life　had　passed　in　helpless　indigence？　Should　I　not　have　sunk　into　lowest　depths　of　querulous　self…pity；　grovelling　there　with　eyes　obstinately　averted　from　the　light　above？

VIII

The　early　ing　of　spring　in　this　happy　Devon　gladdens　my　heart。　I　think　with　chill　disfort　of　those　parts　of　England　where　the　primrose　shivers　beneath　a　sky　of　threat　rather　than　of　solace。　Honest　winter；　snow…clad　and　with　the　frosted　beard；　I　can　wele　not　uncordially；　but　that　long　deferment　of　the　calendars　promise；　that　weeping　gloom　of　March　and　April；　that　bitter　blast　outraging　the　honour　of　May……how　often　has　it　robbed　me　of　heart　and　hope。　Here；　scarce　have　I　assured　myself　that　the　last　leaf　has　fallen；　scarce　have　I　watched　the　glistening　of　hoar…frost　upon　the　evergreens；　when　a　breath　from　the　west　thrills　me　with　anticipation　of　bud　and　bloom。　Even　under　this　grey…billowing　sky；　which　tells　that　February　is　still　in　rule：…

Mild　winds　shake　the　elder　brake；　And　the　wandering　herdsmen　know　That　the　whitethorn　soon　will　blow。

I　have　been　thinking　of　those　early　years　of　mine　in　London；　when　the　seasons　passed　over　me　unobserved；　when　I　seldom　turned　a　glance　towards　the　heavens；　and　felt　no　hardship　in　the　imprisonment　of　boundless　streets。　It　is　strange　now　to　remember　that　for　some　six　or　seven　years　I　never　looked　upon　a　meadow；　never　travelled　even　so　far　as　to　the　tree…bordered　suburbs。　I　was　battling　for　dear　life；　on　most　days　I　could　not　feel　certain　that　in　a　weeks　time　I　should　have　food　and　shelter。　It　would　happen；　to　be　sure；　that　in　hot　noons　of　August　my　thoughts　wandered　to　the　sea；　but　so　impossible　was　the　gratification　of　such　desire　that　it　never　greatly　troubled　me。　At　times；　indeed；　I　seem　all　but　to　have　forgotten　that　people　went　away　for　holiday。　In　those　poor　parts　of　the　town　where　I　dwelt；　season　made　no　perceptible　difference；　there　were　no　luggage…　laden　cabs　to　remind　me　of　joyous　journeys；　the　folk　about　me　went　daily　to　their　toil　as　usual；　and　so　did　I。　I　remember　afternoons　of　languor；　when　books　were　a　weariness；　and　no　thought　could　be　squeezed　out　of　the　drowsy　brain；　then　would　I　betake　myself　to　one　of　the　parks；　and　find　refreshment　without　any　enjoyable　sense　of　change。　Heavens；　how　I　laboured　in　those　days！　And　how　far　I　was　from　thinking　of　myself　as　a　subject　for　passion！　That　came　later；　when　my　health　had　begun　to　suffer　from　excess　of　toil；　from　bad　air；　bad　food　and　many　miseries；　then　awoke　the　maddening　desire　for　countryside　and　sea…beach……and　for　other　things　yet　more　remote。　But　in　the　years　when　I　toiled　hardest　and　underwent　what　now　appear　to　me　hideous　privations；　of　a　truth　I　could　not　be　said　to　suffer　at　all。　I　did　not　suffer；　for　I　had　no　sense　of　weakness。　My　health　was　proof　against　everything；　and　my　energies　defied　all　malice　of　circumstance。　With　however　little　encouragement；　I　had　infinite　hope。　Sound　sleep　（often　in　places　I　now　dread　to　think　of）　sent　me　fresh　to　the　battle　each　morning；　my　breakfast；　sometimes；　no　more　than　a　slice　of　bread　and　a　cup　of　water。　As　human　happiness　goes；　I　am　not　sure　that　I　was　not　then　happy。

Most　men　who　go　through　a　hard　time　in　their　youth　are　supported　by　panionship。　London　has　no　pays　latin；　but　hungry　beginners　in　literature　have　generally　their　suitable　rades；　garreteers　in　the　Tottenham　Court　Road　district；　or　in　unredeemed　Chelsea；　they　make　their　little　vie　de　Boheme；　and　are　consciously　proud　of　it。　Of　my　position；　the　peculiarity　was　that　I　never　belonged　to　any　cluster；　I　shrank　from　casual　acquaintance；　and；　through　the　grim　years；　had　but　one　friend　with　whom　I　held　converse。　It　was　never　my　instinct　to　look　for　help；　to　seek　favour　for　advancement；　whatever　step　I　gained　was　gained　by　my　own　strength。　Even　as　I　disregarded　favour　so　did　I　scorn　advice；　no　counsel　would　I　ever　take　but　that　of　my　own　brain　and　heart。　More　than　once　I　was　driven　by　necessity　to　beg　from　strangers　the　means　of　earning　bread；　and　this　of　all　my　experiences　was　the　bitterest；　yet　I　think　I　should　have　found　it　worse　still　to　incur　a　debt　to　some　friend　or　rade。　The　truth　is　that　I　have　never　learnt　to　regard　myself　as　a　〃member　of　society。〃　For　me；　there　have　always　been　two　entities……myself　and　the　world；　and　the　normal　relation　between　these　two　has　been　hostile。　Am　I　not　still　a　lonely　man；　as　far　as　ever　from　forming　part　of　the　social　order？

This；　of　which　I　once　was　scornfully　proud；　seems　to　me　now；　if　not　a　calamity；　something　I　would　not　choose　if　life　were　to　live　again。

IX

For　more　than　six　years　I　trod　the　pavement；　never　stepping　once　upon　mother　earth……for　the　parks　are　but　pavement　disguised　with　a　growth　of　grass。　Then　the　worst　was　over。　Say　I　the　worst？　No；　no；　things　far　worse　were　to　e；　the　struggle　against　starvation　has　its　cheery　side　when　one　is　young　and　vigorous。　But　at　all　events　I　had　begun　to　earn　a　living；　I　held　assurance　of　food　and　clothing　for　half　a　year　at　a　time；　granted　health；　I　might　hope　to　draw　my　not　insufficient　wages　for　many　a　twelvemonth。　And　they　were　the　wages　of　work　done　independently；　when　and　where　I　would。　I　thought　with　horror　of　lives　spent　in　an　office；　with　an　employer　to　obey。　The　glory　of　the　career　of　letters　was　its　freedom；　its　dignity！

The　fact　of　the　matter　was；　of　course；　that　I　served；　not　one　master；　but　a　whole　crowd　of　them。　Independence；　forsooth！　If　my　writing　failed　to　please　editor；　publisher；　public；　where　was　my　daily　bread？　The　greater　my　success；　the　more　numerous　my　employers。　I　was　the　slave　of　a　multitude。　By　heavens　grace　I　had　succeeded　in　pleasing　（that　is　to　say；　in　making　myself　a　source　of　profit　to）　certain　persons　who　represented　this　vague　throng；　for　the　time；　they　were　gracious　to　me；　but　what　justified　me　in　the　faith　that　I　should　hold　the　ground　I　had　gained？　Could　the　position　of　any　toiling　man　be　more　precarious　than　mine？　I　tremble　now　as　I　think　of　it；　tremble　as　I　should　in　watching　some　one　who　walked　carelessly　on　the　edge　of　an　abyss。　I　marvel　at　the　recollection　that　for　a　good　score　of　years　this　pen　and　a　scrap　of　paper　clothed　and　fed　me　and　my　household；　kept　me　in　physical　fort；　held　at　bay　all　those　hostile　forces　of　the　world　ranged　against　one　who　has　no　resource　save　in　his　own　right　hand。

But　I　was　thinking　of　the　year　which　saw　my　first　exodus　from　London。　On　an　irresistible　impulse；　I　suddenly　made　up　my　mind　to　go　into　Devon；　a　part　of　England　I　had　never　seen。　At　the　end　of　March　I　escaped　from　my　grim　lodgings；　and；　before　I　had　time　to　reflect　on　the　details　of　my　undertaking；　I　found　myself　sitting　in　sunshine　at　a　spot　very　near　to　where　I　now　dwell……before　me　the　green　valley　of　the　broadening　Exe　and　the　pine…clad　ridge　of　Haldon。　That　was　one　of　the　moments　of　my　life　y　state　of　mind　was　very　strange。　Though　as　boy　and　youth　I　had　been　familiar　with　the　country；　had　seen　much　of　Englands　beauties；　it　was　as　though　I　found　myself　for　the　first　time　before　a　natural　landscape。　Those　years　of　London　had　obscured　all　my　earlier　life；　I　was　like　a　man　town…born　and　bred；　who　scarce　knows　anything　but　street　vistas。　The　light；　the　air；　had　for　me　something　of　the　supernatural……affected　me；　indeed；　only　less　than　at　a　later　time　did　the　atmosphere　of　Italy。　It　was　glorious　spring　weather；　a　few　white　clouds　floated　amid　the　blue；　and　the　earth　had　an　intoxicating　fragrance。　Then　first　did　I　know　myself　for　a　sun…　worshipper。　How　had　I　lived　so　long　without　asking　whether　there　was　a　sun　in　the　heavens　or　not？　Under　that　radiant　firmament；　I　could　have　thrown　myself　upon　my　knees　in　adoration。　As　I　walked；　I　found　myself　avoiding　every　strip　of　shadow；　were　it　but　that　of　a　birch　trunk；　I　felt　as　if　it　robbed　me　of　the　days　delight。　I　went　bare…headed；　that　the　golden　beams　might　shed　upon　me　their　unstinted　bles

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