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the barges。 Just one or two minute black featureless figures of men
toiled amidst these monster shapes。 They did not seem to be
controlling them but only moving about among them。 These gas…works
have a big chimney that belches a lurid flame into the night； a
livid shivering bluish flame； shot with strange crimson streaks。 。 。 。
On the other side of Lambeth Bridge broad stairs go down to the
lapping water of the river； the lower steps are luminous under the
lamps and one treads unwarned into thick soft Thames mud。 They seem
to be purely architectural steps； they lead nowhere； they have an
air of absolute indifference to mortal ends。
Those shapes and large inhuman placesfor all of mankind that one
sees at night about Lambeth is minute and pitiful beside the
industrial monsters that snort and toil theremix up inextricably
with my memories of my first days as a legislator。 Black figures
drift by me； heavy vans clatter； a newspaper rough tears by on a
motor bicycle； and presently； on the Albert Embankment； every seat
has its one or two outcasts huddled together and slumbering。
〃These things come； these things go；〃 a whispering voice urged upon
me； 〃as once those vast unmeaning Saurians whose bones encumber
museums came and went rejoicing noisily in fruitless lives。〃 。 。 。
Fruitless lives！was that the truth of it all？ 。 。 。
Later I stood within sight of the Houses of Parliament in front of
the colonnades of St Thomas's Hospital。 I leant on the parapet
close by a lamp…stand of twisted dolphinsand I prayed！
I remember the swirl of the tide upon the water； and how a string of
barges presently came swinging and bumping round as high…water
turned to ebb。 That sudden change of position and my brief
perplexity at it； sticks like a paper pin through the substance of
my thoughts。 It was then I was moved to prayer。 I prayed that
night that life might not be in vain； that in particular I might not
live in vain。 I prayed for strength and faith； that the monstrous
blundering forces in life might not overwhelm me； might not beat me
back to futility and a meaningless acquiescence in existent things。
I knew myself for the weakling I was； I knew that nevertheless it
was set for me to make such order as I could out of these disorders；
and my task cowed me； gave me at the thought of it a sense of
yielding feebleness。
〃Break me； O God；〃 I prayed at last； 〃disgrace me； torment me；
destroy me as you will； but save me from self…complacency and little
interests and little successes and the life that passes like the
shadow of a dream。〃
BOOK THE THIRD
THE HEART OF POLITICS
CHAPTER THE FIRST
THE RIDDLE FOR THE STATESMAN
1
I have been planning and replanning； writing and rewriting； this
next portion of my book for many days。 I perceive I must leave it
raw edged and ill joined。 I have learnt something of the
impossibility of History。 For all I have had to tell is the story
of one man's convictions and aims and how they reacted upon his
life； and I find it too subtle and involved and intricate for the
doing。 I find it taxes all my powers to convey even the main forms
and forces in that development。 It is like looking through moving
media of changing hue and variable refraction at something vitally
unstable。 Broad theories and generalisations are mingled with
personal influences； with prevalent prejudices； and not only
coloured but altered by phases of hopefulness and moods of
depression。 The web is made up of the most diverse elements； beyond
treatment multitudinous。 。 。 。 For a week or so I desisted
altogether； and walked over the mountains and returned to sit
through the warm soft mornings among the shaded rocks above this
little perched…up house of ours； discussing my difficulties with
Isabel and I think on the whole complicating them further in the
effort to simplify them to manageable and stateable elements。
Let me； nevertheless； attempt a rough preliminary analysis of this
confused process。 A main strand is quite easily traceable。 This
main strand is the story of my obvious life； my life as it must have
looked to most of my acquaintances。 It presents you with a young
couple； bright； hopeful； and energetic； starting out under Altiora's
auspices to make a career。 You figure us well dressed and active；
running about in motor…cars； visiting in great people's houses；
dining amidst brilliant companies； going to the theatre； meeting in
the lobby。 Margaret wore hundreds of beautiful dresses。 We must
have had an air of succeeding meritoriously during that time。
We did very continually and faithfully serve our joint career。 I
thought about it a great deal； and did and refrained from doing ten
thousand things for the sake of it。 I kept up a solicitude for it；
as it were by inertia； long after things had happened and changes
occurred in me that rendered its completion impossible。 Under
certain very artless pretences； we wanted steadfastly to make a
handsome position in the world； achieve respect； SUCCEED。 Enormous
unseen changes had been in progress for years in my mind and the
realities of my life； before our general circle could have had any
inkling of their existence； or suspected the appearances of our
life。 Then suddenly our proceedings began to be deflected； our
outward unanimity visibly strained and marred by the insurgence of
these so long…hidden developments。
That career had its own hidden side； of course； but when I write of
these unseen factors I do not mean that but something altogether
broader。 I do not mean the everyday pettinesses which gave the
cynical observer scope and told of a narrower； baser aspect of the
fair but limited ambitions of my ostensible self。 This 〃sub…
careerist〃 element noted little things that affected the career；
made me suspicious of the rivalry of so…and…so； propitiatory to so…
and…so； whom； as a matter of fact； I didn't respect or feel in the
least sympathetic towards； guarded with that man； who for all his
charm and interest wasn't helpful； and a little touchy at the
appearance of neglect from that。 No； I mean something greater and
not something smaller when I write of a hidden life。
In the ostensible self who glowed under the approbation of Altiora
Bailey； and was envied and discussed； praised and depreciated； in
the House and in smoking…room gossip； you really have as much of a
man as usually figures in a novel or an obituary notice。 But I am
tremendously impressed now in the retrospect by the realisation of
how little that frontage represented me； and just how little such
frontages do represent the complexities of the intelligent
contemporary。 Behind it； yet struggling to disorganise and alter
it； altogether； was a far more essential reality； a self less
personal； less individualised； and