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I was a man who stood in symbolic relations to the art and culture
of my age。 I had realised this for myself at the very dawn of my
manhood； and had forced my age to realise it afterwards。 Few men
hold such a position in their own lifetime； and have it so
acknowledged。 It is usually discerned； if discerned at all； by the
historian； or the critic； long after both the man and his age have
passed away。 With me it was different。 I felt it myself； and made
others feel it。 Byron was a symbolic figure； but his relations
were to the passion of his age and its weariness of passion。 Mine
were to something more noble； more permanent； of more vital issue；
of larger scope。
The gods had given me almost everything。 But I let myself be lured
into long spells of senseless and sensual ease。 I amused myself
with being a FLANEUR； a dandy； a man of fashion。 I surrounded
myself with the smaller natures and the meaner minds。 I became the
spendthrift of my own genius； and to waste an eternal youth gave me
a curious joy。 Tired of being on the heights； I deliberately went
to the depths in the search for new sensation。 What the paradox
was to me in the sphere of thought； perversity became to me in the
sphere of passion。 Desire； at the end； was a malady； or a madness；
or both。 I grew careless of the lives of others。 I took pleasure
where it pleased me； and passed on。 I forgot that every little
action of the common day makes or unmakes character； and that
therefore what one has done in the secret chamber one has some day
to cry aloud on the housetop。 I ceased to be lord over myself。 I
was no longer the captain of my soul； and did not know it。 I
allowed pleasure to dominate me。 I ended in horrible disgrace。
There is only one thing for me now； absolute humility。
I have lain in prison for nearly two years。 Out of my nature has
come wild despair； an abandonment to grief that was piteous even to
look at； terrible and impotent rage； bitterness and scorn； anguish
that wept aloud； misery that could find no voice； sorrow that was
dumb。 I have passed through every possible mood of suffering。
Better than Wordsworth himself I know what Wordsworth meant when he
said …
'Suffering is permanent； obscure； and dark
And has the nature of infinity。'
But while there were times when I rejoiced in the idea that my
sufferings were to be endless； I could not bear them to be without
meaning。 Now I find hidden somewhere away in my nature something
that tells me that nothing in the whole world is meaningless； and
suffering least of all。 That something hidden away in my nature；
like a treasure in a field； is Humility。
It is the last thing left in me； and the best： the ultimate
discovery at which I have arrived； the starting…point for a fresh
development。 It has come to me right out of myself； so I know that
it has come at the proper time。 It could not have come before； nor
later。 Had any one told me of it； I would have rejected it。 Had
it been brought to me； I would have refused it。 As I found it； I
want to keep it。 I must do so。 It is the one thing that has in it
the elements of life； of a new life； VITA NUOVA for me。 Of all
things it is the strangest。 One cannot acquire it； except by
surrendering everything that one has。 It is only when one has lost
all things； that one knows that one possesses it。
Now I have realised that it is in me； I see quite clearly what I
ought to do； in fact； must do。 And when I use such a phrase as
that； I need not say that I am not alluding to any external
sanction or command。 I admit none。 I am far more of an
individualist than I ever was。 Nothing seems to me of the smallest
value except what one gets out of oneself。 My nature is seeking a
fresh mode of self…realisation。 That is all I am concerned with。
And the first thing that I have got to do is to free myself from
any possible bitterness of feeling against the world。
I am completely penniless； and absolutely homeless。 Yet there are
worse things in the world than that。 I am quite candid when I say
that rather than go out from this prison with bitterness in my
heart against the world； I would gladly and readily beg my bread
from door to door。 If I got nothing from the house of the rich I
would get something at the house of the poor。 Those who have much
are often greedy； those who have little always share。 I would not
a bit mind sleeping in the cool grass in summer； and when winter
came on sheltering myself by the warm close…thatched rick； or under
the penthouse of a great barn； provided I had love in my heart。
The external things of life seem to me now of no importance at all。
You can see to what intensity of individualism I have arrived … or
am arriving rather； for the journey is long； and 'where I walk
there are thorns。'
Of course I know that to ask alms on the highway is not to be my
lot； and that if ever I lie in the cool grass at night…time it will
be to write sonnets to the moon。 When I go out of prison； R… will
be waiting for me on the other side of the big iron…studded gate；
and he is the symbol； not merely of his own affection； but of the
affection of many others besides。 I believe I am to have enough to
live on for about eighteen months at any rate； so that if I may not
write beautiful books； I may at least read beautiful books； and
what joy can be greater？ After that； I hope to be able to recreate
my creative faculty。
But were things different： had I not a friend left in the world；
were there not a single house open to me in pity； had I to accept
the wallet and ragged cloak of sheer penury： as long as I am free
from all resentment； hardness and scorn； I would be able to face
the life with much more calm and confidence than I would were my
body in purple and fine linen； and the soul within me sick with
hate。
And I really shall have no difficulty。 When you really want love
you will find it waiting for you。
I need not say that my task does not end there。 It would be
comparatively easy if it did。 There is much more before me。 I
have hills far steeper to climb； valleys much darker to pass
through。 And I have to get it all out of myself。 Neither
religion； morality； nor reason can help me at all。
Morality does not help me。 I am a born antinomian。 I am one of
those who are made for exceptions； not for laws。 But while I see
that there is nothing wrong in what one does； I see that there is
something wrong in what one becomes。 It is well to have learned
that。
Religion does not help me。 The faith that others give to what is
unseen； I give to what one can touch； and look at。 My gods dwell
in temples made with hands； and within the circle of actual
experience is my creed made perfect and complete： too complete； it
may be； for like many or all of those who hav