Intro & Preface & Contents
Previous: Autumn V. Illness
How I envy those who become prudent without thwackings of experience! Such men seem to be not uncommon. I don’t mean cold blooded calculators of profit and loss in life’s possibilities; nor yet the plodding dull, who never have imagination enough to quit the beaten track of security; but bright-witted and large-hearted fellows who seem always to be led by common sense, who go steadily from stage to stage of life, doing the right, doing the prudent things, guilty of no vagaries, winning respect by natural progress, seldom needing aid themselves, often helpful to others, and, through all, good-tempered, deliberate, happy. How I envy them!
For of myself it might be said that whatever folly is possible to a moneyless man, that folly I have at one time or another committed. Within my nature there seemed to be no faculty of rational self-guidance. Boy and man, I blundered into every ditch and bog which lay within sight of my way. Never did silly mortal reap such harvest of experience; never had any one so many bruises to show for it. Thwack, thwack! No sooner had I recovered from one sound drubbing that I put myself in the way of another. “Unpractical” I was called by those who spoke mildly; “idiot” -- I am sure -- by many a ruder tongue. And idiot I see myself, whenever I glance back over the long, devious road. Something, obviously, I lacked from the beginning, some balancing principle granted to most men in one or another degree. I had brains, but they were no help to me in the common circumstances of life. But for the good fortune which plucked me out of my mazes and set me in paradise, I should no doubt have blundered on to the end. The last thwack of experience would have laid me low just when I was becoming really a prudent man.
Alpha.
I like the phrase “the plodding dull.” Like the poor, they are forever with us it seems.
I’m guessing that this section is particularly revealing for Mr. Gissing. (I really should read more about him than what is in Wikipedia.) His description of the “prudent man” in the first paragraph is, I think, a fairly accurate description of myself... with a bit of the plodding dull mixed in. And yet I would say that I’ve learned primarily from my mistakes in life. Perhaps I’ve learned enough from the pot-holes to avoid the major ditches and enough from soft-shoulders to avoid the bogs. (And wouldn’t Soft-shoulders be a great title for a novel?)
It’s my theory that the population is divided between the naturally wary or pessimistic -- the people like myself and Mrs. Parker who inquire “What fresh hell is this?” at every knock on life’s door -- and the optimistic and gullible (like Gissing, I suspect) who dive into experiences or activities I would instinctively avoid.
I think Wendell Berry said this far better than I ever could,
“If you could do it, I suppose, it would be a good idea to live your life in a straight line - starting, say, in the Dark Wood of Error, and proceeding by logical steps through Hell and Purgatory and into Heaven. Or you could take the King's Highway past the appropriately named dangers, toils, and snares, and finally cross the River of Death and enter the Celestial City. But that is not the way I have done it, so far. I am a pilgrim, but my pilgrimage has been wandering and unmarked. Often what has looked like a straight line to me has been a circling or a doubling back. I have been in the Dark Wood of Error any number of times. I have known something of Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven, but not always in that order. The names of many snares and dangers have been made known to me, but I have seen them only in looking back. Often I have not known where I was going until I was already there. I have had my share of desires and goals, but my life has come to me or I have gone to it mainly by way of mistakes and surprises. Often I have received better than I deserved. Often my fairest hopes have rested on bad mistakes. I am an ignorant pilgrim, crossing a dark valley. And yet for a long time, looking back, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I have been led - make of that what you will.”
Curiously, I’ve spent most of my working life helping the naive optimists achieve their doubtful dreams.
Next: Autumn VII. Goethe + Historical dates.
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