Early in his life Samuel Butler began to carry a note-book and to write down in it anything he wanted to remember; it might be something he heard some one say, more commonly it was something he said himself. In one of these notes he gives a reason for making them:
“One’s thoughts fly so fast that one must shoot them; it is no use trying to put salt on their tails.”
So he bagged as many as he could hit and preserved them, re-written on loose sheets of paper which constituted a sort of museum stored with the wise, beautiful, and strange creatures that were continually winging their way across the field of his vision. As he became a more expert marksman his collection increased and his museum grew so crowded that he wanted a catalogue. In 1874 he started an index, and this led to his reconsidering the notes, destroying those that he remembered having used in his published books and re-writing the remainder. The re-writing shortened some but it lengthened others and suggested so many new ones that the index was soon of little use and there seemed to be no finality about it (“Making Notes,” pp. 100–1 post). In 1891 he attached the problem afresh and made it a rule to spend an hour every morning re-editing his notes and keeping his index up to date. At his death, in 1902, he left five bound volumes, with the contents dated and indexed, about 225 pages of closely written sermon paper to each volume, and more than enough unbound and unindexed sheets to made a sixth volume of equal size.
In accordance with his own advice to a young writer (p. 363 post), he wrote the notes in copying ink and kept a pressed copy with me as a precaution against fire; but during his lifetime, unless he wanted to refer to something while he was in my chambers, I never looked at them. After his death I took them down and went through them. I knew in a general way what I should find, but I was not prepared for such a multitude and variety of thoughts, reflections, conversations, incidents. There are entries about his early life at Langar, Handel, school days at Shrewsbury, Cambridge, Christianity, literature, New Zealand, sheep-farming, philosophy, painting, money, evolution, morality, Italy, speculation, photography, music, natural history, archæology, botany, religion, book-keeping, psychology, metaphysics, the Iliad, the Odyssey, Sicily, architecture, ethics, the Sonnets of Shakespeare. I thought of publishing the books just as they stand, but too many of the entries are of no general interest and too many are of a kind that must wait if they are ever to be published. In addition to these objections the confusion is very great. One would look in the earlier volumes for entries about New Zealand and evolution and in the later ones for entries about the Odyssey and the Sonnets, but there is no attempt at arrangement and anywhere one may come upon something about Handel, or a philosophical reflection, between a note giving the name of the best hotel in an Italian town and another about Harry Nicholls and Herbert Campbell as the Babes in the Wood in the pantomime at the Grecian Theatre. This confusion has a charm, but it is a charm that would not, I fear, survive in print and, personally, I find that it makes the books distracting for continuous reading. Moreover they were not intended to be published as they stand (“Preface to Vol. II,” p. 215 post), they were intended for his own private use as a quarry from which to take material for his writing, and it is remarkable that in practice he scarcely ever used them in this way (“These Notes,” p. 261 post). When he had written and re-written a note and spoken it and repeated it in conversation, it became so much a part of him that, if he wanted to introduce it in a book, it was less trouble to re-state it again from memory than to search through his “precious indexes” for it and copy it (“Gadshill and Trapani,” p. 194, “At Piora,” p. 272 post). But he could not have re-stated a note from memory if he had not learnt it by writing it, so that it may be said that he did use the notes for his books, though not precisely in the way he originally intended. And the constant re-writing and re-considering were useful also by forcing him to settle exactly what he thought and to state it as clearly and tersely as possible. In this way the making of the notes must have had an influence on the formation of his style—though here again he had no such idea in his mind when writing them (“Style,” pp. 186–7 post)
In one of the notes he says:
“A man may make, as it were, cash entries of himself in a day-book, but the entries in the ledger and the balancing of the accounts should be done by others.”
When I began to write the Memoir of Butler on which I am still engaged, I marked all the more autobiographical notes and had them copied; again I was struck by the interest, the variety, and the confusion of those I left untouched. It seemed to me that any one who undertook to become Butler’s accountant and to post his entries upon himself would have to settle first how many and what accounts to open in the ledger, and this could not be done until it had been settled which items were to be selected for posting. It was the difficulty of those who dare not go into the water until after they have learnt to swim. I doubt whether I should ever have made the plunge if it had not been for the interest which Mr. Desmond MacCarthy took in Butler and his writings. He had occasionally browsed on my copy of the books, and when he became editor of a review, the New Quarterly, he asked for some of the notes for publication, thus providing a practical and simple way of entering upon the business without any very alarming plunge. I talked his proposal over with Mr. R. A. Streatfeild, Butler’s literary executor, and, having obtained his approval, set to work. From November 1907 to May 1910, inclusive, the New Quarterly published six groups of notes and the long note on “Genius” (pp. 174–8 post). The experience gained in selecting, arranging, and editing these items has been of great use to me and I thank the proprietor and editor of the New Quarterly for permission to republish such of the notes as appeared in their review.
In preparing this book I began by going through the notes again and marking all that seemed to fall within certain groups roughly indicated by the arrangement in the review. I had these selected items copied, distributed them among those which were already in print, shuffled them and turned them over, meditating on them, familiarising myself with them and tentatively forming new groups. While doing this I was continually gleaning from the books more notes which I had overlooked, and making such verbal alterations as seemed necessary to avoid repetition, to correct obvious errors and to remove causes of reasonable offence. The ease with which two or more notes would condense into one was sometimes surprising, but there were cases in which the language had to be varied and others in which a few words had to be added to bridge over a gap; as a rule, however, the necessary words were lying ready in some other note. I also reconsidered the titles and provided titles for many notes which had none. In making these verbal alterations I bore in mind Butler’s own views on the subject which I found in a note about editing letters:
“Granted that an editor, like a translator, should keep as religiously close to the original text as he reasonably can, and, in every alteration, should consider what the writer would have wished and done if he or she could have been consulted, yet, subject to these limitations, he should be free to alter according to his discretion or indiscretion.”
My “discretion or indiscretion” was less seriously strained in making textual changes than in determining how many, and what, groups to have and which notes, in what order, to include in each group. Here is a note Butler made about classification:
“Fighting about words is like fighting about accounts, and all classification is like accounts. Sometimes it is easy to see which way the balance of convenience lies, sometimes it is very hard to know whether an item should be carried to one account or to another.”
Except in the group headed “Higgledy-Piggledy,” I have endeavoured to post each note to a suitable account, but some of Butler’s leading ideas, expressed in different forms, will be found posted to more than one account, and this kind of repetition is in accordance with his habit in conversation. It would probably be correct to say that I have heard him speak the substance of every note many times in different contexts. In seeking for the most characteristic context, I have shifted and shifted the notes and considered and re-considered them under different aspects, taking hints from the delicate chameleon changes of significance that came over them as they harmonised or discorded with their new surroundings. Presently I caught myself restoring notes to positions they had previously occupied instead of finding new places for them, and the increasing frequency with which difficulties were solved by these restorations at last forced me to the conclusion, which I accepted only with very great regret, that my labours were at an end.
I do not expect every one to approve of the result. If I had been trying to please every one, I should have made only a very short and unrepresentative selection which Mr. Fifield would have refused to publish. I have tried to make suck a book as I believe would have pleased Butler. That is to say, I have tried to please one who, by reason of his intimate knowledge of the subject and of the difficulties, would have looked with indulgence upon the many mistakes which it is now too late to correct, even if knew how to correct them. Had it been possible for him to see what I have done, he would have detected all my sins, both of omission and of commission, and I like to imagine that he would have used some such consoling words as these: “Well, never mind; one cannot have everything; and, after all, ‘Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.’”
Here will be found much of what he used to say as he talked with one or two intimate friends in his own chambers or in mine at the close of the day, or on a Sunday walk in the country round London, or as we wandered together through Italy and Sicily; and I would it were possible to charge these pages with some echo of his voice and with some reflection of his manner. But, again; one cannot have everything.
“Men’s work we have,” quoth one, “but we want them—
Them palpable to touch and clear to view.”
Is it so nothing, then, to have the gem
But we must cry to have the setting too?
In the New Quarterly each note was headed with a reference to its place in the Note-Books. This has not been done here because, on consideration, it seemed useless, and even irritating, to keep on putting before the reader references which he could not verify. I intend to give to the British Museum a copy of this volume wherein each note will show where the material of which it is composed can be found; thus, if the original Note-Books are also some day given to the Museum, any one sufficiently interested will be able to see exactly what I have done in selecting, omitting, editing, condensing and classifying.
Some items are included that are not actually in the Note-Books; the longest of these are the two New Zealand articles “Darwin among the Machines” and “Lucubratio Ebria” as to which something is said in the Prefatory Note to “The Germs of Erewhon and of Life and Habit” (pp. 39–42 post). In that Prefatory Note a Dialogue on Species by Butler and an autograph letter from Charles Darwin are mentioned. Since the note was in type I have received from New Zealand a copy of the Weekly Press of 19th June, 1912, containing the Dialogue again reprinted and a facsimile reproduction of Darwin’s letter. I thank Mr. W. H. Triggs, the present editor of the Press, Christchurch, New Zealand, also Miss Colborne-Veel and the members of the staff for their industry and perseverance in searching for and identifying Butler’s early contributions to the newspaper.
The other principal items not actually in the Note-Books, the letter to T. W. G. Butler (pp. 53–5 post), “A Psalm of Montreal” (pp. 388–9 post) and “The Righteous Man” (pp. 390–1 post). I suppose Butler kept all these out of his notes because he considered that they had served their purpose; but they have not hitherto appeared in a form now accessible to the general reader.
All the footnotes are mine and so are all those prefatory notes which are printed in italics and the explanatory remarks in square brackets which occur occasionally in the text. I have also preserved, in square brackets, the date of a note when anything seemed to turn on it. And I have made the index.
The Biographical Statement is founded on a skeleton Diary which is in the Note-Books. It is intended to show, among other things, how intimately the great variety of subjects touched upon in the notes entered into and formed part of Butler’s working life. It does not stop at the 18th of June, 1902, because, as he says (p. 23 post), “Death is not more the end of some than it is the beginning of others”; and, again (p. 13 post), for those who come to the true birth the life we live beyond the grave is our truest life. The Biographical Statement has accordingly been carried on to the present time so as to include the principal events that have occurred during the opening period of the “good average three-score years and ten of immortality” which he modestly hoped he might inherit in the life of the world to come.
Henry Festing Jones.
Mount Eryx,
Trapani, Sicily,
August, 1912.
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1835. |
Dec. 4. Samuel Butler born at Langar Rectory, Nottingham, son of the Rev. Thomas Butler, who was the son of Dr. Samuel Butler, Headmaster of Shrewsbury School from 1798 to 1836, and afterwards Bishop of Lichfield. |
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1843–4. |
Spent the winter in Rome and Naples with his family. |
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1846. |
Went to school at Allesley, near Coventry. |
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1848. |
Went to school at Shrewsbury under Dr. Kennedy. |
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Went to Italy for the second time with his family. |
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First heard the music of Handel. |
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1854. |
Entered at St. John’s College, Cambridge. |
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1858. |
Bracketed 12th in the first class of the Classical Tripos and took his degree. |
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Went to London and began to prepare for ordination, living among the poor and doing parish work: this led to his doubting the efficacy of infant baptism and hence to his declining to take orders. |
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1859. |
Sailed for New Zealand and started sheep-farming in Canterbury Province: while in the colony he wrote much for the Press of Christchurch, N.Z. |
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1862. |
Dec. 20. “Darwin on The Origin of Species. A Dialogue,” unsigned but written by Butler, appeared in the Press and was followed by correspondence to which Butler contributed. |
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1863. |
A First Year in Canterbury Settlement: made out of his letters home to his family together with two articles reprinted from the Eagle (the magazine of St. John’s College, Cambridge): MS. lost. |
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1863. |
“Darwin among the Machines,” a letter signed “Cellarius” written by Butler, appeared in the Press. |
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1864. |
Sold out his sheep run and returned to England in company with Charles Paine Pauli, whose acquaintance he had made in the colony. He brought back enough to enable him to live quietly, settled for good at 15 Clifford’s Inn, London, and began life as a painter, studying at Cary’s, Heatherley’s and the South Kensington Art Schools and exhibiting pictures occasionally at the Royal Academy and other exhibitions: while studying art he made the acquaintance of, among others, Charles Gogin, William Ballard and Thomas William Gale Butler. |
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“Family Prayers”: a small painting by Butler. |
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1865. |
“Lucubratio Ebria,” an article, containing variations of the view in “Darwin among the Machines,” sent by Butler from England, appeared in the Press. |
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The Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as contained in the Four Evangelists critically examined: a pamphlet of VIII+48 pp. written in New Zealand: the conclusion arrived at is that the evidence is insufficient to support the belief that Christ died and rose from the dead: MS. lost, probably used up in writing The Fair Haven. |
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1869–70. |
Was in Italy for four months, his health having broken down in consequence of over-work. |
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1870 or 1871. |
First meeting with Miss Eliza Mary Ann Savage, from whom he drew Alethea in The Way of All Flesh. |
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1872. |
Erewhon or Over the Range: a Work of Satire and Imagination: MS. in the British Museum. |
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1873. |
Erewhon translated into Dutch. |
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The Fair Haven: an ironical work, purporting to be “in defence of the miraculous element in our Lord’s ministry upon earth, both as against rationalistic impugners and certain orthodox defenders,” written under the pseudonym of John Pickard Owen with a memoir of the supposed author by his brother William Bickersteth Owen. This book reproduces—the substance of his pamphlet on the resurrection: MS. at Christchurch, New Zealand. |
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1874. |
“Mr. Heatherley’s Holiday,” his most important oil painting, exhibited at the Royal Academy Exhibition, now in the National Gallery of British Art. |
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1876. |
Having invested his money in various companies that failed, one of which had its works in Canada, and having spent much time during the last few years in that country, trying unsuccessfully to save part of his capital, he now returned to London, and during the next ten years experienced serious financial difficulties. |
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First meeting with Henry Festing Jones. |
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1877. |
Life and Habit: an Essay after a Completer View of Evolution: dedicated to Charles Paine Pauli: although dated 1878 the book was published on Butler’s birthday, 4th December, 1877: MS. at the Schools, Shrewsbury. |
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1878. |
“A Psalm of Montreal” in the Spectator: There are probably many MSS. of this poem in existence given by Butler to friends: one, which he gave to H. F. Jones, is in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. |
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A Portrait of Butler, painted in this year by himself, now at St. John’s College, Cambridge. |
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1879. |
Evolution Old and New: A comparison of the theories of Buffon, Dr. Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck with that of Charles Darwin: MS. in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. |
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A Clergyman’s Doubts and God the Known and God the Unknown appeared in the Examiner: MS. lost. |
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Erewhon translated into German. |
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1880. |
Unconscious Memory: A comparison between the theory of Dr. Ewald Hering, Professor of Physiology in the University of Prague, and the Philosophy of the Unconscious of Dr. Edward von Hartmann, with translations from both these authors and preliminary chapters bearing upon Life and Habit, Evolution Old and New, and Charles Darwin’s Edition of Dr. Krause’s Erasmus Darwin. |
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A Portrait of Butler, painted in this year by himself, now at the Schools, Shrewsbury. A third portrait of Butler, painted by himself about this time, is at Christchurch, New Zealand. |
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1881. |
A property at Shrewsbury, in which under his grandfather’s will he had a reversionary interest contingent on his surviving his father, was re-settled so as to make his reversion absolute: he mortgaged this reversion and bought small property near London: this temporarily alleviated his financial embarrassment but added to his work, for he spent much time in the management of the houses, learnt book-keeping by double-entry and kept elaborate accounts. |
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Alps and Sanctuaries of Piedmont and the Canton Ticino illustrated by the author, Charles Gogin and Henry Festing Jones: an account of his holiday travels with dissertations on most of the subjects that interested him: MS. with H. F. Jones. |
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1882. |
A new edition of Evolution Old and New, with a short preface alluding to the recent death of Charles Darwin, an appendix and an index. |
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1883. |
Began to compose music as nearly as he could in the style of Handel. |
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1884. |
Selections from Previous Works with “A Psalm of Montreal” and “Remarks on G. J. Romanes’ Mental Evolution in Animals.” |
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1885. |
Death of Miss Savage. |
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Gavottes, Minuets, Fugues and other short pieces for the piano by Samuel Butler and Henry Festing Jones: MS. with H. F. Jones. |
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1886. |
Holbein’s La Danse: a note on a drawing in the Museum at Basel. |
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Stood, unsuccessfully, for the Professorship of Fine Arts in the University of Cambridge. |
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Dec. 29. Death of his father and end of his financial embarrassments. |
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1887. |
Engaged Alfred Emery Cathie as clerk and general attendant. |
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Luck or Cunning as the main means of Organic Modification? An attempt to throw additional light upon Charles Darwin’s theory of Natural Selection. |
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Was entertained at dinner by the Municipio of Varallo-Sesia on the Sacro Monte. |
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1888. |
Took up photography. |
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1888. |
Ex Voto: an account of the Sacro Monte or New Jerusalem at Varallo-Sesia, with some notice of Tabachetti’s remaining work at Crea and illustrations from photographs by the author: MS. at Varallo-Sesia. |
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Narcissus: a Cantata in the Handelian form, words and music by Samuel Butler and Henry Festing Jones: MS. of the piano score in the British Museum. MS. of the orchestral score with H. F. Jones. |
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In this and the two following years contributed some articles to the Universal Review, most of which were republished after his death as Essays on Life, Art, and Science (1904). |
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1890. |
Began to study counterpoint with William Smith Rockstro and continued to do so until Rockstro’s death in 1895. |
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1892. |
The Humour of Homer. A Lecture delivered at the Working Men’s College, Great Ormond Street, London, January 30, 1892, reprinted with preface and additional matter from the Eagle. |
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Went to Sicily, the first of many visits, to collect evidence in support of his theory identifying the Scheria and Ithaca of the Odyssey with Trapani and the neighbouring Mount Eryx. |
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1893. |
“L’Origine Siciliana dell’ Odissea.” Extracted from the Rassegna della Letteratura Siciliana. |
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“On the Trapanese Origin of the Odyssey” (Translation). |
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1894. |
Ex Voto translated into Italian by Cavaliere Angelo Rizzetti. |
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“Ancora sull’ origine dell’ Odissea.” Extracted from the Rassegna della Letteratura Siciliana. |
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1895. |
Went to Greece and the Troad to make up his mind about the topography of the Iliad. |
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1896. |
The Life and Letters of Dr. Samuel Butler (his grandfather) in so far as they illustrate the scholastic, religious and social life of England from 1790–1840: MS. at the Shrewsbury Town Library or Museum. |
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His portrait painted by Charles Gogin, now in the National Portrait Gallery. |
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1897. |
The Authoress of the Odyssey, where and when she wrote, who she was, the use she made of the Iliad and how the poem grew under her hands: MS. at Trapani. |
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1897. |
Death of Charles Paine Pauli. |
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1898. |
The Iliad rendered into English prose: MS. at St. John’s College, Cambridge. |
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1899. |
Shakespeare’s Sonnets reconsidered and in part rearranged, with introductory chapters, notes and a reprint of the original 1609 edition: MS. with R. A. Streatfeild. |
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1900. |
The Odyssey rendered into English prose: MS. at Aci-Reale, Sicily. |
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1901. |
Erewhon Revisited twenty years later both by the Original Discoverer of the Country and by his Son: this was a return not only to Erewhon but also to the subject of the pamphlet on the resurrection. MS. in the British Museum. |
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1902. |
June, 18. Death of Samuel Butler. |
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1902. |
“Samuel Butler,” an article by Richard Alexander Streatfeild in the Monthly Review (September). |
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“Samuel Butler,” an obituary notice by Henry Festing Jones in the Eagle (December). |
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1903. |
Samuel Butler Records and Memorials, a collection of obituary notices with a note by R. A. Streatfeild, his literary executor, printed for private circulation: with reproduction of a photograph of Butler taken at Varallo in 1889. |
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The Way of All Flesh, a novel, written between 1872 and 1885, published by R. A. Streatfeild: MS. with Mr. R. A. Streatfeild. |
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1904. |
Seven Sonnets and A Psalm of Montreal printed for private circulation. |
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Essays on Life, Art and Science, being reprints of his Universal Review articles, together with two lectures. |
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Ulysses, an Oratorio: Words and music by Samuel Butler and Henry Festing Jones: MS. of the piano score in the British Museum, MS. of the orchestral score with H. F. Jones. |
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“The Author of Erewhon,” an article by Desmond MacCarthy in the Independent Review (September). |
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1904. |
Diary of a Journey through North Italy to Sicily (in the spring of 1903, undertaken for the purpose of leaving the MSS. of three books by Samuel Butler at Varallo-Sesia, Aci-Reale and Trapani) by Henry Festing Jones, with reproduction of Gogin’s portrait of Butler. Printed for private circulation. |
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1907. |
Nov. Between this date and May, 1910, some Extracts from The Note-Books of Samuel Butler appeared in the New Quarterly Review under the editorship of Desmond MacCarthy. |
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1908. |
July 16. The first Erewhon dinner at Pagani’s Restaurant, Great Portland Street; 32 persons present: the day was fixed by Professor Marcus Hartog. |
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Second Edition of The Way of All Flesh. |
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1909. |
God the Known and God the Unknown republished in book form from the Examiner (1879) by A. C. Fifield, with prefatory note by R. A. Streatfeild. |
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July 15. The second Erewhon dinner at Pagani’s; 53 present: the day was fixed by Mr. George Bernard Shaw. |
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1910. |
Feb. 10. Samuel Butler Author of Erewhon, a Paper read before the British Association of Homœopathy at 43 Russell Square, W.C., by Henry Festing Jones. Some of Butler’s music was performed by Miss Grainger Kerr, Mr. R. A. Streatfeild, Mr. J. A. Fuller Maitland and Mr. H. J. T. Wood, the Secretary of the Association. |
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June. |
Unconscious Memory, a new edition entirely reset with a note by R. A. Streatfeild and an introduction by Professor Marcus Hartog, M.A., D.Sc., F.L.S., F.R. H.S., Professor of Zoology in University College, Cork. |
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July 14. The third Erewhon dinner at Pagani’s Restaurant; 58 present: the day was fixed by the Right Honourable Augustine Birrell, K.C., M.P. |
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Nov. 16. Samuel Butler Author of Erewhon. A paper read before the Historical Society of St. John’s College, Cambridge, in the Combination-room of the college, by Henry Festing Jones. The Master (Mr. R. F. Scott), who was also Vice-Chancellor of the University, was in the chair and a Vote of Thanks was proposed by Professor Bateson, F.R.S. |
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1910. |
Nov. 28. Life and Habit, a new edition with a preface by R. A. Streatfeild and author’s addenda, being three pages containing passages which Butler had cut out of the original book or had intended to insert in a future edition. |
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1911. |
May 25. The jubilee number of the Press, New Zealand, contained an account of Butler’s connection with the newspaper and reprinted “Darwin among the Machines” and “Lucubratio Ebria.” |
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July 15. The fourth Erewhon dinner at Pagani’s Restaurant; 75 present: the day was fixed by Sir William Phipson Beale, Bart., K.C., M.P. |
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Nov. Charles Darwin and Samuel Butler: A Step towards Reconciliation, by Henry Festing Jones. A pamphlet giving the substance of a correspondence between Mr. Francis Darwin and the author and reproducing letters by Charles Darwin about the quarrel between himself and Butler referred to in Chapter IV of Unconscious Memory. |
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Evolution Old and New, a reprint of the second edition (1882) with prefatory note by R. A. Streatfeild. |
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1912. |
June 1. Letter from Henry Festing Jones in the Press, Christchurch, New Zealand, about Butler’s Dialogue, which had appeared originally in the Press December 20, 1862, and could not be found. |
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June 8. “Darwin on the Origin of Species. A Dialogue “discovered in consequence of the foregoing letter and reprinted in the Press. |
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June 15. The Press reprinted some of the correspondence, etc. which followed on the original appearance of the Dialogue. |
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Some of Butler’s water-colour drawings having been given to the British Museum, two were included in an exhibition held there during the summer. |
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July 12. The Fifth Erewhon Dinner at Pagani’s Restaurant; 90 present; the day was fixed by Mr. Edmund Gosse, C.B., LL.D. |
We are like billiard balls in a game played by unskilful players, continually being nearly sent into a pocket, but hardly ever getting right into one, except by a fluke.
We are like thistle-down blown about by the wind—up and down, here and there—but not one in a thousand ever getting beyond seed-hood.
A man is a passing mood coming and going in the mind of his country; he is the twitching of a nerve, a smile, a frown, a thought of shame or honour, as it may happen.
How loosely our thoughts must hang together when the whiff of a smell, a band playing in the street, a face seen in the fire, or on the gnarled stem of a tree, will lead them into such vagaries at a moment’s warning.
When I was a boy at school at Shrewsbury, old Mrs. Brown used to keep a tray of spoiled tarts which she sold cheaper. They most of them looked pretty right till you handled them. We are all spoiled tarts.
He is a poor creature who does not believe himself to be better than the whole world else. No matter how ill we may be, or how low we may have fallen, we would not change identity with any other person. Hence our self-conceit sustains and always must sustain us till death takes us and our conceit together so that we need no more sustaining.
Man must always be a consuming fire or be consumed. As for hell, we are in a burning fiery furnace all our lives—for what is life but a process of combustion?
We have got into life by stealth and petitio principii, by the free use of that contradiction in terms which we declare to be the most outrageous violation of our reason. We have wriggled into it by holding that everything is both one and many, both infinite in time and space and yet finite, both like and unlike to the same thing, both itself and not itself, both free and yet inexorably fettered, both every adjective in the dictionary and at the same time the flat contradiction of every one of them.
The beginning of life is the beginning of an illusion to the effect that there is such a thing as free will and that there is such another thing as necessity—the recognition of the fact that there is an “I can” and an “I cannot,” an “I may” and an “I must.”
Life is not so much a riddle to be read as a Gordian knot that will get cut sooner or later.
Life is the distribution of an error—or errors.
Murray (the publisher) said that my Life of Dr. Butler was an omnium gatherum. Yes, but life is an omnium gatherum.
Life is a superstition. But superstitions are not without their value. The snail’s shell is a superstition, slugs have no shells and thrive just as well. But a snail without a shell would not be a slug unless it had also the slug’s indifference to a shell.
Life is one long process of getting tired.
My days run through me as water through a sieve.
Life is the art of drawing sufficient conclusions from insufficient premises.
Life is eight parts cards and two parts play, the unseen world is made manifest to us in the play.
Lizards generally seem to have lost their tails by the time they reach middle life. So have most men.
A sense of humour keen enough to show a man his own absurdities, as well as those of other people, will keep him from the commission of all sins, or nearly all, save those that are worth committing.
Life is like music, it must be composed by ear, feeling and instinct, not by rule. Nevertheless one had better know the rules, for they sometimes guide in doubtful cases—though not often.
There are two great rules of life, the one general and the other particular. The first is that every one can, in the end, get what he wants if he only tries. This is the general rule. The particular rule is that every individual is, more or less, an exception to the general rule.
Nature is essentially mean, mediocre. You can have schemes for raising the level of this mean, but not for making every one two inches taller than his neighbour, and this is what people really care about.
All progress is based upon a universal innate desire on the part of every organism to live beyond its income.
The world is a gambling-table so arranged that all who enter the casino must play and all must lose more or less heavily in the long run, though they win occasionally by the way.
We play out our days as we play out cards, taking them as they come, not knowing what they will be, hoping for a lucky card and sometimes getting one, often getting just the wrong one.
The world may not be particularly wise—still, we know of nothing wiser.
The world will always be governed by self-interest. We should not try to stop this, we should try to make the self-interest of cads a little more coincident with that of decent people.
There is an eternal antagonism of interest between the individual and the world at large. The individual will not so much care how much he may suffer in this world provided he can live in men’s good thoughts long after he has left it. The world at large does not so much care how much suffering the individual may either endure or cause in this life, provided he will take himself clean away out of men’s thoughts, whether for good or ill, when he has left it.
I imagine that life can give nothing much better or much worse than what I have myself experienced. I should say I had proved pretty well the extremes of mental pleasure and pain; and so I believe each in his own way does, almost every man.
I have squandered my life as a schoolboy squanders a tip. But then half, or more than half the fun a schoolboy gets out of a tip consists in the mere fact of having something to squander. Squandering is in itself delightful, and so I found it with my life in my younger days. I do not squander it now, but I am not sorry that I have squandered a good deal of it. What a heap of rubbish there would have been if I had not! Had I not better set about squandering what is left of it?
A man should spend his life or, rather, does spend his life in being born. His life is his birth throes. But most men miscarry and never come to the true birth at all and some live but a very short time in a very little world and none are eternal. Still, the life we live beyond the grave is our truest life, and our happiest, for we pass it in the profoundest sleep as though we were children in our cradles. If we are wronged it hurts us not; if we wrong others, we do not suffer for it; and when we die, as even the Handels and Bellinis and Shakespeares sooner or later do, we die easily, know neither fear nor pain and live anew in the lives of those who have been begotten of our work and who have for the time come up in our room.
An immortal like Shakespeare knows nothing of his own immortality about which we are so keenly conscious. As he knows nothing of it when it is in its highest vitality, centuries, it may be, after his apparent death, so it is best and happiest if during his bodily life he should think little or nothing about it and perhaps hardly suspect that he will live after his death at all.
And yet I do not know—I could not keep myself going at all if I did not believe that I was likely to inherit a good average three-score years and ten of immortality. There are very few workers who are not sustained by this belief, or at least hope, but it may well be doubted whether this is not a sign that they are not going to be immortal—and I am content (or try to be) to fare as my neighbours.