But at present the sea and the depth alike concur in saying, "It is not
in me."
But I do not cease to hope. I care not whether my hero be old or young;
I should like him better to be young; and if I could hear of the rise
of some great and gracious personality, full of fire and genius, I
would make my way to his presence, even though it involved a number of
cross-country journeys and solitary evenings in country inns, to lay my
wreath at his feet and to receive his blessing.
LIV
The other day I was at Peterborough, and strolled into the Close under
a fine, dark, mouldering archway, to find myself in a romantic world,
full of solemn dignity and immemorial peace. There in its niche stood
that exquisite crumbled statue that Flaxman said summed up the grace of
mediaeval art. The quiet canonical houses gave me the sense of stately
and pious repose; of secluded lives, cheered by the dignity of worship
and the beauty of holiness. And then presently I was in the long new
street leading out into the country; the great junction with its forest
of signals, where the expresses come roaring in and out, and the huge
freight-trains clank north and south. The street itself, with its rows
of plane-trees, its big brick-built chapels, its snug comfortable
houses, with the electric trams gliding smoothly under the crossing
wires--what a picture it gave of the new democracy, with its simple
virtues, its easy prosperity, its cheerful lack of taste, of romance!
Life runs easily enough, no doubt, in these contented homes, with their
regular meals, their bright ugly furniture, their friendly gossip,
their new clothes; for amusement the bicycle, the gramophone, the
circulating novel.
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