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It puzzled my aunt that I did not go westward； where it was country…
side and often quite pretty； with hedgerows and fields and copses
and flowers。 But always I went eastward； where in a long valley
industrialism smokes and sprawls。 That was the stuff to which I
turned by nature； to the human effort； and the accumulation and jar
of men's activities。 And in such a country as that valley social
and economic relations were simple and manifest。 Instead of the
limitless confusion of London's population； in which no man can
trace any but the most slender correlation between rich and poor； in
which everyone seems disconnected and adrift from everyone； you can
see here the works； the potbank or the ironworks or what not； and
here close at hand the congested； meanly…housed workers； and at a
little distance a small middle…class quarter； and again remoter； the
big house of the employer。 It was like a very simplified diagram
after the untraceable confusion of London。
I prowled alone； curious and interested； through shabby back streets
of mean little homes； I followed canals； sometimes canals of
mysteriously heated waters with ghostly wisps of steam rising
against blackened walls or a distant prospect of dustbin…fed
vegetable gardens； I saw the women pouring out from the potbanks；
heard the hooters summoning the toilers to work； lost my way upon
slag heaps as big as the hills of the south country； dodged trains
at manifestly dangerous level crossings； and surveyed across dark
intervening spaces； the flaming uproar； the gnome…like activities of
iron foundries。 I heard talk of strikes and rumours of strikes； and
learnt from the columns of some obscure labour paper I bought one
day； of the horrors of the lead poisoning that was in those days one
of the normal risks of certain sorts of pottery workers。 Then back
I came； by the ugly groaning and clanging steam tram of that period；
to my uncle's house and lavish abundance of money and more or less
furtive flirtations and the tinkle of Moskowski and Chaminade。 It
was； I say； diagrammatic。 One saw the expropriator and the
expropriatedas if Marx had arranged the picture。 It was as
jumbled and far more dingy and disastrous than any of the confusions
of building and development that had surrounded my youth at
Bromstead and Penge； but it had a novel quality of being explicable。
I found great virtue in the word 〃exploitation。〃
There stuck in my mind as if it was symbolical of the whole thing
the twisted figure of a man； whose face had been horribly scaldedI
can't describe how； except that one eye was just expressionless
whiteand he ground at an organ bearing a card which told in weak
and bitterly satirical phrasing that he had been scalded by the hot
water from the tuyeres of the blast furnace of Lord Pandram's works。
He had been scalded and quite inadequately compensated and
dismissed。 And Lord Pandram was worth half a million。
That upturned sightless white eye of his took possession of my
imagination。 I don't think that even then I was swayed by any crude
melodramatic conception of injustice。 I was quite prepared to
believe the card wasn't a punctiliously accurate statement of fact；
and that a case could be made out for Lord Pandram。 Still there in
the muddy gutter； painfully and dreadfully； was the man； and he was
smashed and scalded and wretched； and he ground his dismal
hurdygurdy with a weary arm； calling upon Heaven and the passer…by
for help； for help and some sort of rightingone could not imagine
quite what。 There he was as a fact； as a by…product of the system
that heaped my cousins with trinkets and provided the comic novels
and the abundant cigars and spacious billiard…room of my uncle's
house。 I couldn't disconnect him and them。
My uncle on his part did nothing to conceal the state of war that
existed between himself and his workers； and the mingled contempt
and animosity he felt from them。
3
Prosperity had overtaken my uncle。 So quite naturally he believed
that every man who was not as prosperous as he was had only himself
to blame。 He was rich and he had left school and gone into his
father's business at fifteen； and that seemed to him the proper age
at which everyone's education should terminate。 He was very anxious
to dissuade me from going up to Cambridge； and we argued
intermittently through all my visit。
I had remembered him as a big and buoyant man； striding
destructively about the nursery floor of my childhood； and saluting
my existence by slaps； loud laughter； and questions about half
herrings and half eggs subtly framed to puzzle and confuse my mind。
I didn't see him for some years until my father's death； and then he
seemed rather smaller； though still a fair size； yellow instead of
red and much less radiantly aggressive。 This altered effect was due
not so much to my own changed perspectives； I fancy； as to the facts
that he was suffering for continuous cigar smoking； and being taken
in hand by his adolescent daughters who had just returned from
school。
During my first visit there was a perpetual series ofthe only word
is rows； between them and him。 Up to the age of fifteen or
thereabouts； he had maintamed his ascendancy over them by simple
old…fashioned physical chastisement。 Then after an interlude of a
year it had dawned upon them that power had mysteriously departed
from him。 He had tried stopping their pocket money； but they found
their mother financially amenable； besides which it was fundamental
to my uncle's attitude that he should give them money freely。 Not
to do so would seem like admitting a difficulty in making it。 So
that after he had stopped their allowances for the fourth time Sybil
and Gertrude were prepared to face beggary without a qualm。 It had
been his pride to give them the largest allowance of any girls at
the school； not even excepting the granddaughter of Fladden the
Borax King； and his soul recoiled from this discipline as it had
never recoiled from the ruder method of the earlier phase。 Both
girls had developed to a high pitch in their mutual recriminations a
gift for damaging retort； and he found it an altogether deadlier
thing than the power of the raised voice that had always cowed my
aunt。 Whenever he became heated with them； they frowned as if
involuntarily； drew in their breath sharply； said： 〃Daddy； you
really must not say 〃 and corrected his pronunciation。 Then； at a
great advantage； they resumed the discussion。 。 。 。
My uncle's views about Cambridge； however； were perfectly clear and
definite。 It was waste of time and money。 It was all damned
foolery。 Did they make a man a better business man？ Not a bit of
it。 He gave instances。 It spoilt a man for business by giving him
〃false ideas。〃 Some men said that at college a man formed useful
friendships