Criticisms have, however, reached me from private sources, to some of which I propose to offer a reply.
One such critic complains that Arthur’s strictures, on sermons and on choristers, are too severe. Let me say, in reply, that I do not hold myself responsible for any of the opinions expressed by the characters in my book. They are simply opinions which, it seemed to me, might probably be held by the persons into whose mouths I put them, and which were worth consideration.
Other critics have objected to certain innovations in spelling, such as “ca’n’t”, “wo’n’t”, “traveler”. In reply, I can only plead my firm conviction that the popular usage is wrong. As to “ca’n’t”, it will not be disputed that, in all other words ending in “n’t”, these letters are an abbreviation of “not”; and it is surely absurd to suppose that, in this solitary instance, “not” is represented by " ‘t”! In fact “can’t” is the proper abbreviation for “can it”, just as “is’t” is for “is it”. Again, in “wo’n’t”, the first apostrophe is needed, because the word “would” is here abridged into “wo”: but I hold it proper to spell “don’t” with only one apostrophe, because the word “do” is here complete. As to such words as “traveler”, I hold the correct principle to be, to double the consonant when the accent falls on that syllable; otherwise to leave it single. This rule is observed in most cases (e.g. we double the “r” in “preferred”, but leave it single in “offered”), so that I am only extending, to other cases, an existing rule. I admit, however, that I do not spell “parallel”, as the rule would have it; but here we are constrained, by the etymology, to insert the double “l”.
In the Preface to Vol. I. were two puzzles, on which my readers might exercise their ingenuity. One was, to detect the 3 lines of “padding”, which I had found it necessary to supply in the passage extending [here]. They are [Sylvie’s lines]. The other puzzle was, to determine which (if any) of the 8 stanzas of the Gardener’s Song (Stanzas one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight) were adapted to the context, and which (if any) had the context adapted to them. The last of them is the only one that was adapted to the context, the “Garden-Door that opened with a key” having been substituted for some creature (a Cormorant, I think) “that nestled in a tree”. At [stanzas two, five, and seven], the context was adapted to the stanza. At [stanza four], neither stanza nor context was altered: the connection between them was simply a piece of good luck.
In the Preface to Vol. I, I gave an account of the making-up of the story of “Sylvie and Bruno”. A few more details may perhaps be acceptable to my Readers.
It was in 1873, as I now believe, that the idea first occurred to me that a little fairy-tale (written, in 1867, for “Aunt Judy’s Magazine”, under the title “Bruno’s Revenge”) might serve as the nucleus of a longer story. This I surmise, from having found the original draft of the last paragraph of Vol. II., dated 1873. So that this paragraph has been waiting 20 years for its chance of emerging into print-more than twice the period so cautiously recommended by Horace for “repressing” one’s literary efforts!
It was in February, 1885, that I entered into negotiations, with Mr. Harry Furniss, for illustrating the book. Most of the substance of both Volumes was then in existence in manuscript: and my original intention was to publish the whole story at once. In September, 1885, I received from Mr. Furniss the first set of drawings-the four which illustrate “Peter and Paul”: in November, 1886, I received the second set-the three which illustrate the Professor’s song about the “little man” who had “a little gun”: and in January, 1887, I received the third set -the four which illustrate the “Pig-Tale”.
So we went on, illustrating first one bit of the story, and then another, without any idea of sequence. And it was not till March, 1889, that, having calculated the number of pages the story would occupy, I decided on dividing it into two portions, and publishing it half at a time. This necessitated the writing of a sort of conclusion for the first Volume: and most of my Readers, I fancy, regarded this as the actual conclusion, when that Volume appeared in December, 1889. At any rate, among all the letters I received about it, there was only one which expressed any suspicion that it was not a final conclusion. This letter was from a child. She wrote “we were so glad, when we came to the end of the book, to find that there was no ending-up, for that shows us that you are going to write a sequel.”
It may interest some of my Readers to know the theory on which this story is constructed. It is an attempt to show what might possibly happen, supposing that Fairies really existed; and that they were sometimes visible to us, and we to them; and that they were sometimes able to assume human form: and supposing, also, that human beings might sometimes become conscious of what goes on in the Fairy-world--by actual transference of their immaterial essence, such as we meet with in “Esoteric Buddhism”.
I have supposed a Human being to be capable of various psychical states, with varying degrees of consciousness, as follows:
I have also supposed a Fairy to be capable of migrating from Fairyland into the actual world, and of assuming, at pleasure, a Human form; and also to be capable of various psychical states, viz.
I will here tabulate the passages, in both Volumes, where abnormal states occur.
| Vol. I. | Historian’s Locality and | State. | Other Characters |
|---|---|---|---|
| link | In train | c | Chancellor (b). |
| link, link | do. | c | |
| link, link | do. | c | |
| link, link | At lodgings | c | |
| link, link | On beach | c | |
| link, link, link, link, link | At lodgings | c | S. and B. (b). Professor (b). |
| link, link | In wood | b | Bruno (b). |
| link | In wood, sleep-walking | c | S. and B. (b). |
| link | Among ruins | c | do. (b). |
| link | do. dreaming | a | |
| link | do. sleepwalking | c | S. B. and Professor in Human form. |
| link | In street | b | |
| link, link | At station, &.c. | b | S. and B. (b) |
| link, link | In garden | c | S. B. and Professor (b) |
| link | On road, &c. | a | S. and B. in Human form. |
| link | In street, &c. | a | |
| link | In wood | b | S. and B. (b). |
| Vol. II. | |||
| link | In garden | b | S. and B. (b). |
| link | On road | b | do. (b). |
| link, link | do. | b | do. in Human form. |
| link, link | do. | b | do. (b). |
| link, link, link, link | In drawing-room | a | do. in Human form. |
| link, link | do. | c | do. (b). |
| link | In smoking-room | c | do. (b). |
| link | In wood | b | do. (a); Lady Muriel (b). |
| link, link | At lodgings | c | |
| link, link, link | do. | c | |
| link | do. | b |
In the Preface to Vol. I., I gave an account of the origination of some of the ideas embodied in the book. A few more such details may perhaps interest my Readers:
I. [link]. The very peculiar use, here made of a dead mouse, comes from real life. I once found two very small boys, in a garden, playing a microscopic game of “Single-Wicket”. The bat was, I think, about the size of a tablespoon; and the utmost distance attained by the ball, in its most daring flights, was some 4 or 5 yards. The exact length was of course a matter of supreme importance; and it was always carefully measured out (the batsman and the bowler amicably sharing the toil) with a dead mouse!
I. [link] The two quasi-mathematical Axioms, quoted by Arthur at p. -- of Vol. I. (”Things that are greater than the same are greater than one another”, and “All angles are equal”) were actually enunciated, in all seriousness, by undergraduates at a University situated not 100 miles from Ely.
II. [link] Bruno’s remark (”I can, if I like, &c.”) was actually made by a little boy.
II. [link] So also was his remark (”I know what it doesn’t spell”). And his remark (”I just twiddled my eyes, &c.”) I heard from the lips of a little girl, who had just solved a puzzle I had set her.
II. [link] Bruno’s soliloquy (”For its father, &c.”) was actually spoken by a little girl, looking out of the window of a railway-carriage.
II. [link] The remark, made by a guest at the dinner-party, when asking for a dish of fruit (”I’ve been wishing for them, &c.”) I heard made by the great Poet-Laureate, whose loss the whole reading-world has so lately had to deplore.
II. [link] Bruno’s speech, on the subject of the age of “Mein Herr”, embodies the reply of a little girl to the question “Is your grandmother an old lady?” “I don’t know if she’s an old lady,” said this cautious young person; “she’s eighty-three.”
II. [link] The speech about “Obstruction” is no mere creature of my imagination! It is copied verbatim from the columns of the Standard, and was spoken by Sir William Harcourt, who was, at the time, a member of the “Opposition”, at the “National Liberal Club”, on July the 16th, 1890.
II. [link] The Professor’s remark, about a dog’s tail, that “it doesn’t bite at that end”, was actually made by a child, when warned of the danger he was incurring by pulling the dog’s tail.
II. [link] The dialogue between Sylvie and Bruno, which occupies lines 28 to 36, is a verbatim report (merely substituting “cake” for “penny”) of a dialogue overheard between two children.
One story in this Volume-”Bruno’s Picnic”-I can vouch for as suitable for telling to children, having tested it again and again; and, whether my audience has been a dozen little girls in a village-school, or some thirty or forty in a London drawing-room, or a hundred in a High School, I have always found them earnestly attentive, and keenly appreciative of such fun as the story supplied.
May I take this opportunity of calling attention to what I flatter myself was a successful piece of name-coining, at [link] Vol. I. Does not the name “Sibimet” fairly embody the character of the Sub-Warden? The gentle Reader has no doubt observed what a singularly useless article in a house a brazen trumpet is, if you simply leave it lying about, and never blow it!
Readers of the first Volume, who have amused themselves by trying to solve the two puzzles propounded at [link] of the Preface, may perhaps like to exercise their ingenuity in discovering which (if any) of the following parallelisms were intentional, and which (if any) accidental.
| ”Little Birds” | Events, and Persons |
|---|---|
| Stanza |
I will publish the answer to this puzzle in the Preface to a little book of “Original Games and Puzzles”, now in course of preparation.
I have reserved, for the last, one or two rather more serious topics.
I had intended, in this Preface, to discuss more fully, than I had done in the previous Volume, the “Morality of Sport”, with special reference to letters I have received from lovers of Sport, in which they point out the many great advantages which men get from it, and try to prove that the suffering, which it inflicts on animals, is too trivial to be regarded.
But, when I came to think the subject out, and to arrange the whole of the arguments “pro” and “con”, I found it much too large for treatment here. Some day, I hope to publish an essay on this subject. At present, I will content myself with stating the net result I have arrived at.
It is, that God has given to Man an absolute right to take the lives of other animals, for any reasonable cause, such as the supply of food: but that He has not given to Man the right to inflict pain, unless when necessary: that mere pleasure, or advantage, does not constitute such a necessity: and, consequently, that pain, inflicted for the purposes of Sport, is cruel, and therefore wrong. But I find it a far more complex question than I had supposed; and that the “case”, on the side of the Sportsman, is a much stronger one than I had supposed. So, for the present, I say no more about it.
Objections have been raised to the severe language I have put into the mouth of “Arthur”, at [link], on the subjects of Choral Services and “Choristers”.
I have already protested against the assumption that I am ready to endorse the opinions of characters in my story. But, in these two instances, I admit that I am much in sympathy with “Arthur”. In my opinion, far too many sermons are expected from our preachers; and, as a consequence, a great many are preached, which are not worth listening to; and, as a consequence of that, we are very apt not to listen. The reader of this paragraph probably heard a sermon last Sunday morning? Well, let him, if he can. name the text, and state how the preacher treated it!
Then, as to “Choristers”, and all the other accessories -of music, vestments, processions, &c.-which have come, along with them, into fashion-while freely admitting that the “Ritual” movement was sorely needed and that it has effected a vast improvement in our Church-Services, which had become dead and dry to the last degree, I hold that, like many other desirable movements, it has gone too far in the opposite direction, and has introduced many new dangers.
For the Congregation this new movement involves the danger of learning to think that the Services are done for them; and that their bodily presence is all they need contribute. And, for Clergy and Congregation alike, it involves the danger of regarding these elaborate Services as ends in themselves, and of forgetting that they are simply means, and the very hollowest of mockeries, unless they bear fruit in our lives.
For the Choristers it seems to involve the danger of self-conceit, as described at [link] (N.B. “stagy-entrances” is a misprint for “stage-entrances”), the danger of regarding those parts of the Service, where their help is not required, as not worth attending to, the danger of coming to regard the Service as a mere outward form-a series of postures to be assumed, and of words to be said or sung while the thoughts are elsewhere-and the danger of “familiarity” breeding “contempt” for sacred things.
Let me illustrate these last two forms of danger, from my own experience. Not long ago, I attended a Cathedral-Service, and was placed immediately behind a row of men, members of the Choir; and I could not help noticing that they treated the Lessons as a part of the Service to which they needed not to give any attention, and as affording them a convenient opportunity for arranging music-books, &c., &c. Also I have frequently seen a row of little choristers, after marching in procession to their places kneel down, as if about to pray, and rise from their knees after a minute spent in looking about them, it being but too evident that the attitude was a mere mockery. Surely it is very dangerous, for these children, to thus accustom them to pretend to pray? As an instance of irreverent treatment of holy things, I will mention a custom, which no doubt many of my readers have noticed in Churches where the Clergy and Choir enter in procession, viz. that, at the end of the private devotions, which are carried on in the vestry, and which are of course inaudible to the Congregation, the final “Amen” is shouted, loud enough to be heard all through the Church. This serves as a signal, to the Congregation, to prepare to rise when the procession appears: and it admits of no dispute that it is for this purpose that it is thus shouted. When we remember to Whom that “Amen” is really addressed, and consider that it is here used for the same purpose as one of the Church-bells, we must surely admit that it is a piece of gross irreverence? To me it is much as if I were to see a Bible used as a footstool.
As an instance of the dangers, for the Clergy themselves, introduced by this new movement, let me mention the fact that, according to my experience, Clergymen of this school are specially apt to retail comic anecdotes, in which the most sacred names and words-sometimes actual texts from the Bible-are used as themes for jesting. Many such things are repeated as having been originally said by children, whose utter ignorance of evil must no doubt acquit them, in the sight of God, of all blame; but it must be otherwise for those who consciously use such innocent utterances as material for their unholy mirth.
Let me add, however, most earnestly, that I fully believe that this profanity is, in many cases, unconscious: the “environment” (as I have tried to explain at [Chapter 1: Bruno’s Lessons