I[P.U

RIC

HA

RD

HO

GG

AR

T

TH

EU

SE

SO

FL

ITE

RA

CY

Aspects fworking-class

lifew

ithspecial reference

topublication.

andentertainm

ents

©P

EN

GU

INB

OO

KS

INA

SS

OC

IAT

ION

WIT

H

CH

AT

TO

&W

IND

US

t&

!L-

(1

29

0T

HE

US

ES

OF

LIT

ER

AC

Y

aboutbeliefhassom

eeffect.T

herefusalto

‘giveout’

forfear

ofbeing

diddledm

eansthe

acceptanceeventually

ofa

flat,tough,and

tastelessw

orld.M

eanwhile,hom

eisan

importantrefuge;locallifecan

goon,

notasyetm

uchaffected;

acraftcan

bea

privatestay: in

theirpublic

aspectsm

anyw

orking-classpeople

areset

back,and

withdraw

intoahurtbutalso

sometim

es anindulgent.cynicism

.It

isdifficult,

byits

nature,to

findm

orethan

avery

briefexpression

ofthe

main

attitudesfrom

within

thew

orking-classthem

selves.Butthis

froman

ex-minor-public-school-boy

down

onhisluck

speaksformuch

inthe

experienceof w

orking-class

peopleofhis

generationas

we

11

asfor

thoseof his

own

class:-

It’sallveryw

ell forthem

oraliststo

talk..

.but..

.fromschool

rightintoa

bloodyw

arthatwasn’tm

ym

aking.Frightenedto

deathhalfthe

time,so

boredthe

otherhalfthat therewasnothing

todo

butgo

tobed

with

a.prettygirl.Then

backto

civvystreet,peddling

theseblank

machines and

walking

tenm

ilesa dayforfatold

wom

ento

shuttheirdoorsin

my

face.

CH

AP

TE

R1

0

UN

BE

NT

SP

RIN

GS

:A

NO

TE

ON

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S

Do, please, w

ritea

storyofhow

ayoung

man,the

sonofa

serf; who

hasbeen

ashop

boy,a

chorister,pupil

ofasecondary

school,and

auniversity

graduate,w

hohas

beenbrought

upto

respectrankand

tokiss

thepriest’s

hand,to

bowto

otherpeople’s

ideas,to

bethankfulfor

eachm

orselof bread,

who

hasbeen

thrashedm

anya

time,

who

hashad

tow

alkabout

tutoringw

ithoutgoloshes,

who

hasfought,

tormented

animals,

hasbeen

fondof

diningat

thehouse

ofw

ell-to-dorelations,

andplayed

thehypocrite

bothto

God

andm

anw

ithoutany

needbut

merely

outof consciousness

of hisow

ninsignificance

—describe

howthat young

man

squeezesthe

slaveoutofhim

self, dropby

drop,andhow

,aw

akeningone

finem

orning,hefeels

runningin

hisveins

nolonger

theblood

ofaslave

butgenuine

human

blood.rcssaK

ov

‘But

remem

berhis

education,the

agein

which

hegrew

up,’observed

Arkady.

‘Education?’

brokein

Bazarov.

‘Every

man

must

educatehim

selfjust

asI’ve

done,for

instance..,.A

nd

asfor

theage,

why

shouldI

dependon

it?L

etit

ratherdepend

onm

e.N

o,m

ydear

fellow,

that’sall shallow

ness,w

antofbackbone!’

A.

ScholarshipBoy

TU

11GE

NS

Y

GE

OR

GS

BL

IOT

Form

ypart

Iamvery

sorryfor

him.

It isan

uneasylotat best,to

bew

hatwe

callhighlytaught

andyetnot

toenjoy:

tobe

presentatthisgreat

spectacleof

lifeand

nevertobe

liberatedfrom

asm

allhungryshivering

self:

This isa difficultchaptertow

rite, thoughone

thatshouldbe

written.

As

inother

chapters,I

shallbe

isolatinga

groupof

relatedtrends:

butthe

consequentdangers

ofover-em

phasisare

hereespecially

acute.T

hethree

imm

ediatelyprece&

ngchapters

havediscussed

attitudesw

hichcould

fromone

pointof

viewappear

torepresent

akind

ofpoise.

But

thepeople

most

affectedby

theattitudes

nowto

beexam

ined—

the•

‘anxiousand

theuprooted’

—are

tobe

recognizedprim

arilyby

theirlack

ofpoise,

bytheir

uncertainty.A

boutthe

self

[indulgences w

hichseem

tosatisfy

many

intheirclass

theytend

tobe

unhappilysuperior:

theyare

much

affectedby

thecynicism

which

affectsalm

osteveryone,

butthis

islikely

to

II:

292

TH

EU

SE

SO

FL

ITE

RA

CY

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S29

3

increasetheirlack

ofpurposerather

thantem

ptthemto

‘cashin’

orto

reactintofurther

indulgence.In

partthey

havea

sensçofloss

which

affectssom

ein

allgroups.

With

themthe

senseof

lossis

increasedprecisely

becausethey

areem

otionallyuprooted

fromtheir

class,oftenunderthe

stimulusofa

stronger criticalmtelligence

orimagina

tion,qualities

which

canlead

theminto

anunusual

self-consciousness

beforetheir

own

situation(and

make

iteasy

fora

sympathizer

todram

atizetheir

Angst).

Involvedw

iththis

may

bea

physicaluprooting

fromtheir

classthrough

them

ediumofthe

scholarshipsystem

.Agreatm

anyseem

tom

eto

beaffected

inthisw

ay,thoughonly

averysm

allproportionbadly;

atoneboundary

thegroup

includespsychotics;

attheother,

peopleleading

apparentlynorm

allives

butnever

without

anunderlying

senseofsom

eunease.

Itwillbe

convenienttospeak

firstofthenature

oftheup

rootingw

hichsom

escholarship

boysexperience.

Ihave

inm

indthose

who,fora num

berofyears,perhapsforaverylong

time,have

asense

ofnolonger really

belongingto

anygroup.

We

allknowthatm

anydo

findapoise

intheirnew

situations.There

are‘declassed’

expertsand

specialistsw

hogo

intotheir

own

spheresafterthe

longscholarship

climb

hasled

themto

aPh.D

.There

arebrilliant

individualsw

hobecom

efine

adininistrators

andofficials,

andfind

themselves

thoroughlyat

home.There

aresom

e,notnecessarilyso

gifted,who

reacha

kindofpoise

which

isyetnt

apassivity

norevena

failurein

awareness,

who

areat

easein

theirnew

groupw

ithoutany

ostentatiousadoptionoftheprotectivecolouring

ofthatgroup,and

who

havean

easyrelationship

with

theirw

orking-classrelatives,

basednot

ona

formof

patronagebut

ona

justrespect.

Alm

ostevery

working-class

boyw

hogoes

throughthe

processoffurther

educationby

scholarshipsfinds

himself

chafingagainsthis

enviiomnent

duringadolescence.H

eis

atthe

friction-pointof two

cultures;thetestof hisrealeducation

liesin

his,ability,byaboutthe

ageoftw

enty-five,to

smile

at

his father with

hisw

holeface

andto

respect hisffighty

youngsister

andhis

slower

brother.I

shall beconcerned

with

thosefor

whom

theuprooting

isparticularly

troublesome,

notbecause

I under-estimate

thegains

which

this kindof selection

gives, nor becauseI w

ishto

stressthe

more

depressingfeatures

incontem

porarylife, but because

thedifficulties of som

epeople

illuminate

much

inthe

wider

discussionof

culturalchange.

Liketransplanted

stock,they

reactto

aw

idespreaddrought

earlier thanthose

who

havebeen

left intheir original soil.

Iam

sometim

esinclined

tothink

thatthe

problemof self-

adjustment is, in

general, especiallydifficult for those

working-

class boys who

areonly

moderately

endowed, w

hohave

talentsufficient to

separatethem

fromthe

majority

of their working-

classcontem

poraries,but

notto

gom

uchfarther.

Iam

notim

plyinga

correlationbetw

eenintelligence

andlack

ofunease;

intellectualpeople

havetheir

own

troubles:but

thiskind

of anxiety

oftenseem

s most to

afflict those inthe w

orkingdasses w

hohave

beenpulled

onestage

away

fromtheir original

cultureand

yethave

notthe

intellectualequipm

entw

hichw

ouldthen

causethem

tom

oveon

tojoin

the‘declassed’

professionalsand

experts. Inone

sense, it is true, noone

is ever‘declassed’;

andit

isinteresting

tosee

howthis

occasionallyobtrudes

(particularlytoday,

when

ex-working-class

boysm

ovein

allthe

managing

areas ofsociety)

—in

thetouch

ofinsecurity, w

hichoften

appears as anundue

concernto

establish‘presence’

inan

otherwise

quiteprofessional professor, in

theinterm

ittent roughhom

elinessof an

important executive

andcom

mittee-m

an,in

thetendency

tovertigo

which

betraysa

lurkingsense

of uncertaintyin

asuccessful journalist.

But lam

chieflyconcerned

with

those who

areself-conscious

andyet

notself-aw

arein

anyfull

sense,w

hoare

asa

resultuncertain,

dissatisfied, andgnaw

edby

self-doubt.Som

etimes

theylack

will, though

theyhave

inteffigence, and‘it takes w

illto

crossthis

waste’. M

oreoften

perhaps, thoughthey

haveas

much

will as

them

ajority, theyhave

not sufficient toresolve

thecom

plextensions

which

theiruprooting,

thepeculiar

29

4T

HE

US

ES

OF

LIT

ER

AC

Y

problems

oftheir

particulardom

esticsettings,

andthe

un-certainties

comm

onto

thetim

ecreate.

Aschildhood

givesway

toadolescenceand

thattom

anhood,this

kindof

boytends

tobe

progressivelycut

offfromthe

ordinarylife

ofhisgroup.H

eis

marked

outearly:and

hereI

amthinking

notso

much

of histeachers

inthe

‘elementary’

schoolas

offellow-m

embers

ofhisfam

ily.“B’s

gotbrains’,

or“B’sbright’,hehearsconstantly; and

inpart the

toneisone

ofprideand

admiration.H

eisin

away

cutoffbyhisparents

asm

uchasby

histalentw

hichurgeshim

tobreak

away

fromhis

group.Yet on

theirsidethisisnotaltogether from

admiration:

“B’sgot brains’,yes, andhe

isexpectedto

followthe

trailthatopens.B

uttherecan

alsobe

alim

itingquality

inthe

tonew

ithw

hichthe

phraseis

used;character

countsm

ore.Still,he

hasbrains

—a

mark

ofprideand

almosta

brand;heis heading

fora

differentworld,a

different sortof job.H

ehasto

bem

oreand

more

alone,ifheisgoing

to‘get on’.

He

willhave,probably

unconsciously,tooppose

theethos

ofthe

hearth,the

intensegregariousness

ofthe

working-dass

family

group.Sinceeverything

centresupon

theliving-room

,there

isunlikelyto

bea

roomof

hisow

n;the

bedrooms

arecold

andinhospitable, and

tow

armthem

orthefront room

,ifthere

isone,w

ouldnotonly

beexpensive,butw

ouldrequire

anim

aginativeleap

—out

ofthe

tradition—

which

most

families

arenot

capableof

making.

Thereis

acorner

ofthe

living-roomtable.

On

theother

sideM

otheris

ironing,the

wireless ison,som

eoneissingingasnatch

ofsongorFathersays

intermittently

whatevercom

esintohishead.The

boyhas to

cuthim

selfoff mentally,so

astodo

his homew

ork,as wellashe

can.in

summ

er, matters can

beeasier;bedroom

sare

warm

enoughto

work

in:but

onlya

fewboys,

inm

yexperience,

takeadvantage

of this.Fortheboy

is himself(until he

reaches,say,the

upperform

s)very

much

of boththe

worlds

of home

andschool.H

eisenorm

ouslyobedient to

thedictates

ofthew

orldof school,butem

otionallystillstrongly

wants

tocontinue

aspartofthe

fmily

circle.

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S

Sothe

first bigstep

istakenin

theprogress

towards m

ember

shipof a different sortof group

or toisolation

when

suchaboy

hasto

resistthecentral dom

esticquality

of working-class

life.This

is true, perhapsparticularly

true, if hebelongs

toa

happyhom

e, becausethe

happyhom

es areoften

them

oregregarious.

Quite

earlythe

stresson

solitariness,the

encouragement

towards

strongself-concern, is felt; and

thiscan

make

it more

difficult forhimto

belongto

anothergroup

later.A

t his‘elem

entary’ school, fromasearly

as theage

of eight,he

is likelyto

bein

some

degreeset apart, though

thismay

nothappen

ifhisschool is

inthe

areaw

hicheach

yearprovides

acouple

ofdozen

boysfrom

‘thescholarship

form’

forthe

gramm

ar-schools. But probably

heisin

anarea

predominantly

working-class

andhis

school takesup

onlya

fewscholarships

ayear. The

situationis

alteringas

thenum

berof scholarships

increases, but inany

casehum

anadjustm

entsdo

not come

asabruptly

as administrative

changes.H

eissim

ilarlylikely

tobe

separatedfrom

theboys’

groupsoutside

thehom

e, isnolonger a full m

ember of the

gangw

hichdusters round

the lamp-posts in

theevenings; thereishomew

orkto

bedone.B

ut theseare

them

alegroups

among

which

othersin

hisgeneration

growup,

andhis

detachment

fromthem

isem

otionallylinked

with

onemore

aspect of his home

situation—thathe

nowtends

tobe

closer tothe

wom

enofthe

housethan

tothe

men. This

istrue, even

ifhisfather is not the

kindw

hodism

issesbooks

andreading

as‘a

wom

an’sgam

e’.The

boyspends

alarge

partof

histim

eat

thephysical

centreof

thehom

e, where

thew

omen’s

spirit rules, quietlygetting

onw

ithhis

work

whilst his

mother

getson

with

herjobs—

thefather

not yetbackfrom

work

or out for adrink

with

hismates. The

man

andthe

boy’sbrothers

areoutside, in

thew

orldofm

en;the

boysitsin

thew

omen’s

world. Perhaps

thispartly

explainsw

hym

anyauthors

fromthe

working-classes, w

henthey

write

abouttheir

childhood,give

thew

omen

init

sotender

andcentral

aplace.

Thereis

boundto

beoccasional

friction,of

course—

when

theyw

onder whether the

boyis

‘gettingabove

295

himself’,orw

henhe

feelsastrong

reluctanceto

breakoffand

doone

oftheoddjobs

aboy

isexpectedto

do.Butpredom

inandy

theatm

osphereis

likelyto

beintim

ate,gentle,

andattractive.W

ithone

earhe

hearsthe

wom

endiscussing

theirw

orriesand

ailments

andhopes,and

hetells

thematintervals

abouthisschool

andthe

work

andw

hatthe

master

said.He

usuallyreceives

boundlessuncom

prehendingsym

pathy;he

knows

theydo

notunderstand,butstillhetellsthem

;hew

ouldlike

tolink

thetw

oenvironm

ents.This

descriptionsim

plifiesand

over-stressesthe

break;in

eachindividualcase

therew

ill.bem

anyqualifications.B

utinpresenting

theisolation

inits

most

emphatic

formthe

description

epitomizes

whatisvery

frequentlyfound.For

sucha

boyisbetw

eentw

ow

orldsofschoolandhom

e;andthey

meet

at fewpoints.O

nceat the

gramm

ar-school,hequickly

learnsto

make

useofa

pairofdifferentaccents,

perhapseven

two

differentapparentcharactersand

differingstandards

ofvalue.T

hinkof his

reading-material,

forexam

ple:athom

ehe

seesstrew

naround,and

readsregularly

himself;

magazines

which

arenever

mentioned

atschool,which

seemnot

tobelong

tothe

world

tow

hichthe

schoolintroduces

him;

atschool

hehears

aboutandreads

booksneverm

entionedathom

e.When

he bringsthosebooksintothehouse

theydo

nottaketheirplace

with

otherbooksw

hichthe

family

arereading,foroften

thereare

noneor

almostnone;

hisbooks

look,rather,

likestrange

tools.H

ew

illperhaps,

especiallytoday,

escapethe

worst

imm

ediatedifficulties

ofhis

newenvironm

ent,the

stigma

ofcheaper

clothes,ofnotbeing

ableto

affordto

goon

school-holiday

trips,ofparentsw

hoturn

upfor

thegram

mar-school

playlooking

shamefully

working-class.

But

asa

gramm

ar-schoolboy,heislikely

tobe

anxiousto

dow

ell,tobe

accepted,or

evento

catchthe

eyeas

hecaught

theeye,

becauseofhis

brains,atthe‘tary

school.Forbrainsare

thecurrency

byw

hichhe

hasboughthisway,and

increasinglybrains

seemto

bethe

currencythat

tells.H

etends

tom

akehis

school-

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S297

masters

over—im

portant, sincethey

arethe

cashiersinthe

neww

orldof brain-currency.

Inhis

home-w

orldhis

fatheris

stillhis

father;in

theother

world

ofschool

hisfather

canhave

littleplace:he

tends tom

akea father-figure

ofhis form-m

aster.C

onsequently,even

thoughhis

family

may

pushhim

verylittle,he

will probably

pushhim

self harderthan

heshould. H

ebegins

tosee

life, forasfar

as hecan

envisageit,asa

seriesof

•hurdle-jum

ps, thehurdles

ofscholarships

which

arew

onby

•learning

howto

amass

andm

anipulatethe

newcurrency.

He

tendsto

over-stressthe

importance

ofexam

inations,of

thepiling-up

ofknowledge

andofreceived

opinions.He

discoversatechniqueof apparent learning,ofthe acquiring

of facts ratherthan

ofthehandling

anduse offacts.H

eleanis how

toreceivea

purelyliterate

education,one

usingonly

asm

allpart

ofthe

personalityand

challengingonly

alim

itedarea

ofhisbeing.

He

beginsto

seelife

asa

ladder,as

aperm

anent examination

with

some

praiseand

some

furtherexhortation

ateachstage.

He

becomes

anexpertim

biberanddoler-out; his

competence

will

vary,but

will

rarelybe

accompanied

bygenuine

enthusiasm

s.H

erarely

feelsthe

realityof know

ledge,ofother

men’s

thoughtsand

imaginings,on

hisow

npulses;he

rarelydiscovers

anauthor

for himselfand

onhis

own.In

thishalf of

hislifehe

canrespond

onlyifthere

isa

directconnexionw

iththe

systemoftraining. H

ehassom

ethingofthe

blinkerdpotiyabouthim

;som

etimes

heis

trainedby

thosew

hohave

beenthrough

thesam

eregim

en,who

arehardly

unblinkeredthem

selves,and

who

praisehim

inthe

degreeto

which

hetakes

comfortably

totheir

blinkers.T

houghthere

isa

powerful,

unidealistic,unw

armed

realismabout

hisattitude

at bottom,

that ishis

chiefformof initiative;of other

forms

—the

freelyranging

mind,

thebold

flyingofm

ental kites,thecourage

toreject soniè

‘lines’ eventhough

theyare

officiallyas im

portantasall

therest

—of

thesehe

probablyhas

little,andhis

training

doesnot

oftenencourage

them.

Thisis

nota

newprob

lem;

Herbert

Spencerspoke

ofit

fiftyyears

ago;but

itstill

exists:

296I

TH

EU

SE

SO

PL

ITE

RA

CY

:4::

298TEE

USES

OP

LITERA

CY

THE

UPR

OO

TEDA

ND

THE

AN

XIO

US

299The

establishedsystem

sofeducation, w

hatevertheirm

atterm

aybe,arc

fundamentally

viciousin

theirm

anner.Theyencourage

subm

issivereceptivity

insteadof independentactivity.

Thereis

toolittle

stresson

action,on

personalw

illand

decision; toom

uchgoeson

inthe

head,with

therather-better-

than-normalintellectualm

achine which

hasbroughthimto

hisgram

mar-school,

andbecause

sooften

the‘good’

boy,the

boyw

hodoes

well,

isthe

onew

how

ithhis

conscientiouspassivity

meets

them

aindem

andsofhisnew

environment,he

graduallyloses

spontaneityso

asto

acquireexam

ination-passing

reliability.H

ecan

snaphis

fingersat

noone

andnothing;

heseem

ssetto

make

anadequate,

reliable,and

un

joyouskind

of derk.H

ehas

beentoo

long‘afraid

ofallthathas

tobe

obeyed’.H

azlitt,w

ritingat

thebeginning

ofthe

nineteenthcentury,

made

aw

iderand

more

impassioned

judgement on

trendsin

hissociety;

butithas

some

relevancehere

andnow

:M

endo

notbecomew

hatbynature

theyarem

eanttobe,but w

hatsociety

makes

them. The

generousfeelings,and

highpropensities

ofthe

soulare,asitw

ere, shrunkup,seared,violently

wrenched, and

amputated,to

fit usforourintercoursew

iththew

orld, something

inthe

manner

thatbeggarsm

aimand

mutilate

theirchildren,tom

akethem

fit fortheirfuturesituation

inlifu..

Sucha scholarshipboy

haslostsomeoftheresilienceand

some

ofthevitality

ofhiscousins

who

arestillknocking

about thestreets.

Inan

earliergeneration,

asone

ofthequicker-w

ittedpersons

borninto

thew

orking-classes, hew

ouldin

all probability

have hadthose

wits developed

inthejungle

oftheslum

s,w

herew

ithadto

allyitselfto

energyand

initiative.He

playslittle

onthe

streets;he

doesnot

runaround

deliveringnew

spapers;

hissexualgrow

this

perhapsdelayed.

He

losessom

ething

of the

gamin’s

resilienceand

carelessness, ofhisreadinessto

takea

chance,ofhis

perkinessandboldness, and

hedoes not

acquirethe

unconsciousconfidence

ofmany

apublic-school-

trainedchild

of

them

iddle-classes.H

ehas

been. trainedlike

acircus-horse,

forscholarship

winning.

As

aresult,. w

henhe

comes

tothe

endof the

seriesof

set-pieces, w

henhe

is at last put outtoraise

hiseyes to

aw

orldof

tangibleand

unaccomm

odatingthings,

of

elusiveand

disconcerting

human

beings,he

fmds

himself

with

littleinner

mom

entum.

The

driving-belthangs

loosely,disconnected

fromthe

onlym

achineit

hasso

farserved,

theexam

ination-passing

machine. H

efm

ds difficultyin

choosinga

directionin

aw

orldw

herethere

isnolongera m

astertoplease, a

toffee—apple

at theend

of eachstage, a certificate, a

placein

theupper half of

theassessable

world.H

eisunhappy

ina

societyw

hichpresents

largelya

pictureof disorder, w

hichis

hugeand

sprawling, not

limited,

ordered,and

centrallyheated;

inw

hichthe

toffee-apples

arenot

accuratelygiven

tothose

who

work

hardestnor

evento

them

ostintelligent:

butin

which

disturbingim

ponderableslike

‘character’,‘pure

luck’,‘ability

tom

ix’,and

‘boldness’ haveaw

ayof tipping

thescales.

His

conditionis

made

worse

becausethe

whole

trendof his

previous traininghas

made

himcare

toom

uchfor

marked

andticketed

success.T

hisw

orld,too, cares

much

forrecognizable

success, but doesnot distribute

it alongthe

lineson

which

hehas

beentrained

tow

in.H

ew

ouldbe

happierif he

caredless,

if hecould

blowthe

gaff forhim

selfon

thew

orld’ssuccess

values.B

ut theytoo

closelyresem

blethe

valuesof school;

toreject

themhe

would

havefirst to

escapethe

innerprison

inw

hichthe

school’stabulated

rulesfor

successhave

imm

uredhim

.He

doesnot w

ishto

accept thew

orld’scriterion

—get

onat

anyprice

(thoughhe

hasan

acutesense

of

theim

portanceof

money). B

ut hehas

beenequipped

for hurdle-jumping;

sohe

merely

dreams

of getting-on, but

somehow

not inthe

world’s

way. H

ehas

neitherthe

comforts

of simply

acceptingthe

bigw

orld’svalues,

northe

recompense

of feelingfirm

lycritical

towards

them.

He

has moved

away

fromhis ‘low

er’ origins, andm

aym

ovefarther. Ifso, he

is likelyto

benagged

underneathby

asense

ofhow

farhe

hascom

e,by

thefear

andsham

eof

apossible

1.*

30

0T

HE

US

ES

OP

LIT

ER

AC

YT

HE

UP

RO

OT

ED

AN

DT

HE

AN

XIO

US

30

1

falling-back.A

ndthis

increaseshis

inabilityto

leavehim

selfalone.

Sometim

esthe

kindofjob

hegets

only.increases

thisslightly

dizzysense

of stillbeingon

theladder;unhappy

onit,

butalso

proudand,

inthe

natureof

hiscondition,

usuallyincapable

ofjumping

off,ofpullingoutof thatparticularrace:

Pale,shabby,tightlysrnm

g,hehad

advancedfrom

posttopostin

hisin

su

ran

ce

officew

iththe

bearingofam

anaboutto

bedischarged.

Brainshadonly

mean

tth

at

he

mu

stw

ork

hard

er

in

the

elem

entary

schooJthan

thoseborn

freeo

fthem

.A

tnighthecould

stillhearthe

maliciouschorustelling

himthathewasafavourite

ofthem

aster....Brains,like

afierce

heat,

had

turnedthe

wQ

rldto

adesertroundhim

,and

acrossthesandsin

theoccasionalm

iragehesawthe

stupidcrow

ds,playing,laughing,and

withoutthoughtenjoying

thetenderness,the

compassion,the

companionship

oflove.

That

isover-dram

atized,not

applicableto

allor

evento

most

—but

insom

ew

ayaffecting

many.

Itaffects

alsothat

largergroup,tow

hichinow

turn,ofthosew

hoin

some

ways

askquestionsofthem

selvesabouttheirsociety,who

arebecause

ofthis,

even

though

th

ey

may

nev

er

have

been

to

gram

mar-

schools,‘betw

eentw

ow

orlds,one

dead,the

otherpow

erlessto

be

born’.T

heyare

the‘p

riv

ate

faces

in

pu

blic

places’

am

on

gthe

working-dasses;

they

are

Koestler’s

‘thoughtful

co

rp

orals’;

th

ey

are

am

ong

th

ose,

though

not

the

whole

of

th

ose,

who

takeup

many

kindsof

self.im

provem

ent.

They

may

beperform

ingany

kindo

fw

ork,

from

manual

labourto

teaching;butmy

own

experience

suggeststhatthey

areto

be

foundfrequently

among

minor

clerksand

similarly

black-coated

wo

rk

ers,

andam

ong

elem

en

tary

school-teachers,

especiallyin

thebig

cities.Often

theirearnestnessforimprove

ment

sh

ow

sitself

as

anu

rg

eto

act

likesom

ep

eo

ple

in

th

e

mid

dle

classes;

but

thisis

no

ta

political

betrayal:it

ism

uchnearer

toa

mistaken

idealism.

This

kindo

fperson,

andw

ehave

seen

that

this

is

his

first

greatloss,belongsnow

to

no

class,usuallyn

ot

even

to

whatis

called,looselyenough,

the‘classless

intelligentsia’.He

cannot

facesquarely

hisow

nw

orking-class,for

that,since

thein

tuitivelinks

havegone, w

ouldrequire

agreater

comm

andin

facinghim

selfthanhe

iscapableof.Som

etimeshe

isashamed

ofhis

origins;he

haslearned

to‘turn

uphis

nose’,to

bea

bitsuperior

aboutm

uchin

working-class

mariners.

He

isoften

notateaseabouthis

own

physicalappearancew

hichspeaks

tooclearly

ofhisbirth;

hefeels

uncertainor

angryinside

when

herealizes

thatthat,anda

hundredhabits

of speechand

manners,

can‘give

himaw

ay’daily.

He

tendsto

visithisow

nsense

ofinadequacy

uponthe

groupw

hichfathered

him;

andhe

provideshim

selfwith

am

antleofdefensive

attitudes.Thus

hem

ayexhibit

anunconvincing

pridein

hisow

ngaucheness

atpractical

things—

‘brain—w

orkers’are

never‘good

with

theirhands’.

Underneath

heknow

sthathis

compensatory

claimto

possessfinerweapons,to

beable

tohandle

‘book-knowledge’,

isinsecurely

based.H

etries

toread

allthe

goodbooks,

butthey

donotgive

himthatpow

erofspeech

andcom

mand

overexperience

which

heseeks.H

eis

asgauche

thereas

with

thecraftsm

an’stools.

He

cannotgo

back;w

ithone

partof

himselfhe

doesnot

wantto

goback

toahom

elinessw

hichw

asoftennarrow

:with

anotherparthelongs

forthem

embership

hehaslost,‘he

pinesfor

some

Nam

elessEden

where

henever

was’.

The

nostalgiais

thestronger

andthe

more

ambiguous

becausehe

isreally

‘inquestofhis

own

abscondedselfyet

scaredto

findit’.

He

bothw

antsto

goback

andyet

thinkshe

hasgone

beyondhis

class,feelshim

selfweighted

with

knowledge

of hisow

nand

theirsituation,

which

hereafterforbids

hinithe

simpler

pleasuresofhis

fatherand

mother.

And

thisis

onlyone

of histem

ptationsto

self-dramatization.

Ifhetries

tobe

‘pally’w

ithw

orking-classpeople,

toshow

thatheisone

ofthem, they

‘smellita

mile

off’.They

areless at

easew

ithhim

thanw

ithsom

ein

otherclasses.With

themthey

canestablish

andare

preparedto

honour,seriouslyorasa

kindof

ratherironical

game,

aform

alrelationship;

they‘know

where

theyare

with

them’.B

utthey

canim

mediately

detect

30ZT

HE

US

ES

OP

LIT

ER

AC

YT

HE

UP

RO

OT

ED

AN

DT

HE

AN

XIO

US

30

3the

uncertaintyin

his attitudes, thathebelongs neitherto

theninor to

oneof the

groupsw

ithw

hichthey

areused

toperform

inga

hierarchical playof relations; the

oddm

anoutis stillthe

oddm

anout.

He

has left hisclass, atleast inspirit,by

beingin

certainw

aysunusual;

andhe

isstill unusual

inanother

class, tootense

andover-w

ound.Som

etimes

thew

orking-classesand

them

iddle-classes

canlaugh

together.H

erarely

laughs;he

smiles

con

strainedlyw

iththe

corner of hism

outh. He

is usuallyillat ease

with

them

iddle-classes because with

oneside of him

self hedoes

notw

antthem

toaccept

him;

hem

istrustsor

evena

littledespises

them.

He

isdivided

asin

som

anyother

ways. W

ithone

partof himself he

admires

much

hefinds

inthem

:a

playof inteffigence, abreadth

ofoutlook, akindof style. H

ew

ouldlike

tobe

acitizen

ofthat

well-polished,

prosperous,cool,

book-linedand

magazine-discussing

world

ofthe

successfulintelligent m

iddle-class which

he glimpses through

doorways or

feels awkw

ardam

ongon

short visits, awareof his grubby

fingernails.

With

anotherpart

ofhim

selfhe

developsan

asperitytow

ardsthat w

orld: heturns

uphis

noseatits

self-satisfaction,its

earnest social concern, itsinteffigent coffee—

parties, itssuave

sonsat

Oxford,

andits

Mrs

Miniver’ish

orM

rsR

amsey’ish

cultural pretensions. He

is rather over-readyto

noticeanything

which

canbe

regardedas

pretentiousor

fanciful,anything

which

allows

himto

saythat these

peopledo

not knoww

hatlife

reallyis like. H

ew

aversbetw

eenscorn

andlonging. H

eis

Charles

Tarisleyin

Virginia

Woolf’s

Tothe

Lighthouse, butisprobably

without

suchgood

brains.V

irginiaW

oolfoften

returnedto

him,

with

notso

deepan

understandingas

onem

ight havehoped;

shegives

verym

uchthe

culturedm

iddle-class

spectator’sview

:

aself-taught w

orking-man, and

we

all knowbow

distressingthey

are,how

egotistic,insistent,

raw,

striking,and

ultimately

nauseating.

I’mrem

indedallthe

time

ofsome

callowboard-schoolboy, full

ofwitsand

powers,butso

self-conscious andegotisticalthathe

loseshis

head,becom

esextravagant,

mannered,

uproarious,ill

atease,

makeskindly

peoplefeelsorryfor him

andstern

onesmerely

annoyed:and

onehopeshe

willgrow

outofit.

He

hasnot

thecom

pensationsof

acraftsm

an;he

hasnot,

usually,theconsolations

ofreligiousbelief,and

soneither

thesense

ofcom

munity

with

othersthis

may

givenor

therule

itmay

helpto

establishw

ithinhim

self.He

hasnotthedriving

forceofamoney-m

aker—ofa

grocerout forgain,acomm

ercialentrepreneur,

oran

unabashedseller

ofhis

own

personality.H

eis

earnestfor

self-improvem

ent,but

notw

iththe

energyand

eagernessofhisuncle

offortyyears

ago,oftheM

rLew

is-ham

sw

hosw

ottedat

thePolytechnic

andread

Shawand

Wells.T

hereislittle

excitementand

adventureabout his search

forimprovem

entandknow

ledge;histextsaretheearly

Aldous

Huxley

andperhaps

Kafka.H

eissad

andalso

solitary; hefinds

itdifficulttoestablish

contactevenw

ithothersin

hiscondition:‘W

ithdulling

voiceeach

callsacross

acolder

water.’

He

ishem

med

inbecause

inthe

lastresort

heis

scaredof

findingw

hatheseeks;his

trainingand

hisexperienceare

likelyto

havem

adehim

afraidof

decisionand

comm

itment.

Of

himm

aybe

saidw

hatT

oynbeesaid

ofthe

‘creativegenius’:

He

willhave

puthimself

out

ofgearw

ithhis

fieldof action, and

inlosing

thepow

erofactionhe

will lose

thew

illto

live.

Butbe

isnota‘creative

genius’.He

isclever enoughto

takehim

selfoutofhisclassmentally, butnot equipped, m

entallyor

emotionally,

tosurm

ountallthe

problems

thatfollow

.H

eis

deniedeven

the‘consolations

ofphilosophy’,

ofacquiring

suchcom

fort

asthere

is,in

partat

least,from

assessinghis

situation.Even

ifheachieves

some

degreeof culture,he

findsit

difficultto

carryit

easily,aseasily

asthose

who

havenot

hadto

strainso

much

toget

it,who

havenotknow

nlike

himthe

longprocess

ofexploitationof ‘brains’:

andagain:

304

TH

EU

SE

SO

PL

ITE

RA

CY

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S3

05

You

aregifted

fromabove

with

thatwhich

ordinarypeople

havenotgot:you

havetalent.

..talentplacesyou

apart...

.You

haveonly

onedefect.Y

ourfalseposition,yoursorrow

,andyour

catarrhofthe

bowelsare

alldueto

it.Thatisyourextraordinarylack

ofeducation.Pray

forgivem

e,butveritas

magis

amicitiae.

..

.You

see,life

hasits

conventions.Inorderto

feelateaseamong

inteffigentpeople,inorder

nottobeastrangeram

ongthem

,andnotto

beoverw

helmed

bythem

,you

mustbe

toacertain

degreeeducated.

..

.Talentbroughtyouinto

thatcircle,youbelong

toit,but.

..you

aredraw

naw

ay,andyou

waver

between

culturedpeople

andthe

lodgers,vis—

à—vis.

Though

heis

notof

the‘creative

minority’,

heis

justas

surelynotofthe

‘uncreativem

ajority’;he

isofthe

uncreativebut

self-doubtingand

self-drivingm

inority.H

ehas

great.aspirations,butnotquite

theequipm

entnorthestaying-pow

erto

realizethem

.He

would

behappierifhe

were

ableto

perceivehis

own

limits,ifhe

learnednotto

over-estimate

hispossibili

ties,ifheresigned

himself;notso

much

to‘being

thefoolyou

are’,as

tobeing

them

oderatelyequipped

personhe

is.B

uthis

background,his

ethos,and

probablyhis

naturalqualities

make

suchself-realization

difficult;he

thereforerem

ainsharassed

by‘the

discrepancybetw

eenhis

loftypretensions

andhis

lowly

acts’.

B.

ThePlace

ofCulture:A

Nostalgiafor

IdealsF

orw

eare

alldivorced

fromlife;

We

areall

cripples,m

oreor

less.(T

helittle

clerkin

Dostoyevsky’s

Notesfrom

Undergroutul)

Itwillbe

clearthattheintellectualandculturalaids

now

tobe

discussedappealto

more

than‘scholarship

boys’ofthe

kindI

havejustdescribed.

Presumably

theyare

designedto

reachas

many

aspossibleofthose

peoplew

ho,forwhateverreasons and

with

whatever

background,feel

insom

ew

ayslacking

andhope

thattrainingofthis

sortcanm

akegood

theirdeficiency.

There

arem

anypeople

who

seekculture

and.intellectualtraining

without

expectingm

orefrom

themthan

theycan

properlygive,

andw

hocan

connecttheir

searchw

iththe

actualityof

socialand

personallife.

But

suchpeople

may

bebetter

mentioned

inthe

nextchapter.T

herange

ofmentalcom

pensationsisw

ideand

various,andIdo

notthinkIcan

avoidm

ovingin

thissection

between

detailsfrom

variouscultural

levels.B

utin

theuncertainties

andaspirations

Iamdescribing,

thevarious

kindsofpeople

Ireferto

doseem

tom

erge.A

tthe

most

elementary

levelthere

areadvertisem

entsnot

farremoved

fromthose

ofa

rathervague

psychologicalkind

Iillustrated

earlier.A

tthe

otherextrem

ethere

areappeals

tothose

who

seekto

bein

theforefront

ofcultural m

atters.In

between

thereare,for

example,

advertisem

entsw

hichseem

tohave

scarcelyany

connexionw

iththe

desirefor

culturebut

make

adirect

andpractical

appealto

theurge

tosucceed

at work.

Yet

thetone

oftheirannounce

ments

seems

tosuggest

thatthey

will

attractnot

som

uchpurposive

andpracticalasvaguely

dissatisfiedreaders:

Theyused

tobe

onthe

same

bench,but routinew

orkw

asn’t goodenough

forB

ill. WH

AT

AB

OU

TY

OU

?A

reyou

aS

UR

EH

ITlike

BillW

atsonor

aFL

OP

likeJim

Simpson?

[Herearelikely

tobe

contrastingphotographsofone

cheerfuland

oneanxious

youngm

an.]Billset aboutequipping

himselfthrough

the..

.system.

He’s

Chief M

ill-Overseernow

andG

oingPlaces

Fast.

The

nex

t example

isofa

more

directkind:

Readers

get Books-for-N

othing.W

eare

among

theLargest Providers

ofUp-to-the-M

inuteC

orrespondence

Training.[The

useofcapital letters

inthese

advertisements

oftenrecalls

thefairground-haw

kers.]These

valuablebooks

areM

US

TS

forY

OU

.In

themyou

will

findclear

accountsofall our

courses,whether

Technical,A

dminis

trativeor

Supervisory.JU

ST

NA

ME

YO

UR

FA

VO

UR

ITE

CO

UR

SE

.

From

theseone

moves

naturallytow

ardsm

oregeneral

mentalaids,

tothe

many

advertisements

offeringthe

secreto

f

306

TH

EU

SE

SO

PL

ITE

RA

CY

fluentexpression,

of

speakinglike

a‘D

ominant

andcultured

individual’.‘T

heM

odemE

ncydopediao

f Ideas will m

akeyou

aM

astero

f Language’:

Thosew

hohave

developedtheir

giftof speech

carryw

eightand

thefruits

of realsuccess aretheirs.

When

acontribution

byyou

isdem

anded[presum

ablythis

doesnot

necessarilyindicate

thatm

ostofthe

peopleatw

homthis

advertisem

ent isdirected

arem

uchcalled

uponto

make

speeches], youw

illdisplay

decisive andunhesitating

fluency.

Allthis

costsonly

thirtyshillings.

Or:

Are

youT

ON

GU

E-T

IED

?D

oyou

wish

tobe

SIL

VE

R-T

ON

GU

ED

inSPE

EC

H?

Li&’s

richestrew

ardsm

aystill

beY

OU

RS

,even

thoughyou

were

not fortunateenough

togo

toa

University.

WO

RD

S-W

OR

DS

-WO

RD

SProsperity

andR

egarddepend

onyour

CO

MM

AN

DofL

AN

GU

AG

Eno

matter in

which

walk

of lifeyou

decideto

act.

Then

thereare

variouselem

entaryversions

of

Roget’s

Thesaurus,som

etimes

presentedin

avisually

simplified

way,

perhapsafier

them

annerofa

horoscopeor

of some

of those‘W

hatto

doin

thegarden

eachw

eekofthe

year’diagram

s;so

that ifyouw

ant afew

synonyms

for‘beautiful’

youm

aketw

oor three

smallm

anual adjustments

andthe

requiredw

ordsappear.

The

Universal

Vocabulary

Diagram

matic

Outfit

will:

Make

your lifeanew

..

.a magic

keyw

hichw

ill give youentry

toa fuller and

more

positive existence, leavingbehind

thedull routine

ofyour lifetoday.

YO

Ucan

persuade..

.assert..

.dominate.

.. and

allwith

unsuspected

andunheard-of beauty.and

fluency.A

dvancement

—Fam

e—

andthe

SocialStatus for which

youyearn

canbe

yoursT

OD

AY

.Y

ouw

illbethrilled

andgain

assuranceand

uplift fromits

ease.T

heS

EC

RE

TO

FM

AS

TE

RF

UL

WR

ITIN

GA

ND

SP

EE

CH

isat yourF

ING

ER

TIP

S.

Forthosew

hoaspirem

oregenerally

toculture

orevento

thestatus

ofthe

artist therearenum

erous schoolsfor writing.‘H

ave

IT

HE

UP

RO

OT

ED

AN

DT

HE

AN

XIO

US

307

youa

hunchthat

YO

Ucould

bea

writer?

ifSo

—p

ost

thisform

’:

Do

yourfriends

say‘Y

ouought

tow

ritea

novel’w

henyou

tellthem

ananecdote?

Do

theysay

howm

uchthey

lovegetting

your letters?N

umerous

peoplelike

thisnever

acquirethe

know-how

andso

theirtalents

neverbring

themthe

fame

andthe

fortunew

hichthey

rightlydeserve.

Then

thereare

portmanteau

guidesto

an

over-a

ll culture:

Music

—A

rt—

LiteratureH

ereis

thefullest outline

yetissued

oftheglorious

perspectiveof

Culture.

TH

ISC

HA

NC

EW

ILL

NO

TO

CC

UR

AG

AIN

Num

erouscelebrated

peopleacknow

ledgegratefully

itsassist

ance.Each

example

is accompanied

bya

clearand

helpful account ofitsartistic

characteristics.W

iththis

bookyou

will have

theentry

ofall thew

orld’sgreatest

works

of art.W

iththis

guideyou

toocan

make

powerful

andillum

inatingcom

ments

when

thetalk

turnsto

TH

ING

SO

FT

HE

MIN

D.

Sixguineas

forthree

volumes

isa

likelyprice,but thatm

ayinclude

afree

copyofa

booksuch

as‘A

Guide

tothe

TellingPhrase

andH

appyM

etaphor... indispensable foranyone who

wishes

toexpress

himself fluently

andinterestingly’.

One

may

betem

pted,noticing

thiskind

ofthing

onlyoccasionally,

toassum

ethat

itaffects

nom

orethan

am

inutefraction

ofthe

population.B

utif

oneregularly

notessuch

advertisements

itbecomes

clear—

asthey

followone

another,several in

eachissue

of many

magazines,and

some

takinga

fullpage

—that theiraudience

isgreater than

most ofus

think.On

theadvertisem

entspage

of atypical

‘quality’w

eeklyfor

thew

eekin

which

I amw

ritingthere

areeleven

advertisements.

Threeof them

arenot relevant:

two

areborderline

cases(one

fortheself-teaching

ofaforeign

languageby

means

of phrase-books,

andone

anofficial

announcement

onthe

needfor

a

TH

EU

SE

SO

PL

ITE

RA

CY

certaintype

of specialist teacher):the

remaining

sixare

of the

kindI

amdescribing

—for

postaltraining

ina

systemw

hich

claims

tom

akeany

careeropen

tothe

student,for

afine

comm

andof English, for profitable creative w

riting, andso

on.

Distinguishing

bythe

amount of space

eachtype

of advertise-.

ment takes, the

result is that, fromfour full colum

ns, oneis not

relevant, three-quartersof a

column

areborder-line, tw

o-and-

a—quarter

columns

areon

ourthem

e.A

current‘quality’

monthly

haseight front advertisem

ent pages. Advertisem

ents

of thistype

takeup

theequivalent of tw

oof them

, or aquarter

of thespace

—w

iththe

aids tocreative

writing

or toverbal skill

more

inevidence,

ascom

paredw

iththose

fortechnical

or

similarly

vocationalcourses,

thanthey

arein

the‘quality’

weekly.I have

nostatistical evidence

as tothe

extent of theappeal of

suchadvertisem

ents.C

ertainlythey

must

beexpensive

to

insert andw

ouldpresum

ablynot be

usedso

intensivelyunless

afair num

berof people

respondedto

them. For

thestudents,

too, thesecourses

areusually

quiteexpensive

andseem

tom

e

likely,in

most

cases,to

beless

effectivethan

publicadult

education.B

utit

seems

unlikelythat

publicadult

education

canever

attractm

anyof

thesestudents.

No’doubt

some

of

themansw

erthe

advertisements

inthe

knowledge

thatthey

will have

tow

orkhard

tocom

ew

ithinsight of the

tempting

goals indicated. Foram

ajority, thetone

of theannouncem

ents

oftensuggests,

the‘call to

study’or

to‘culture’

willbe

only

allegorical.There

seems

tobe

offeredan

almost

magically

quickm

ethodof

removing

anunform

ulatedfeeling

ofin

sufficiency.The

advertisements

ofthis

kindin

the‘quality

weeklies

andm

onthliesare

obviouslynot directed

exclusively

topeople

fromthe

working-

orlow

erm

iddle-classes.B

ut

working-

andlow

erm

iddle-classreaders

aream

ongtheir

intendedaudience,

andsurveys

suggestthat

theysucceed

in

reachinga substantial num

ber of readers ofthis kind; andsim

i

laradvertisem

entsappear

regularlyin

them

orespecifically

working-class

magazines.

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S30

9

The

demand

foraids of thekind

I have justillustratedis only

onew

ayin

which

aw

ishfor

entryinto

thecultured

lifecan

expressitself.Otie

mightdiscussthe sam

esituationm

orew

idely

byreference

tosom

ecurrent

tendenciesiii reading.I have

inm

inda

readingof

culturalpublications

which

isfrom

oneaspectim

proper,which

is inspiredby

toostrong

andtoo

vague

anexpectation.It ism

yim

pressionthatthis

kindof interestin

seriouspublicationsis more

comm

onthan

is generallythought.

Thereis oftena continuouslinefrom

elementary

promptingsto

learn‘dynam

icspeech

andw

riting’tosom

eform

sofm

ember

shipof the

‘minor

intelligentsia’,froman

obsessiveand

often

ratherbizarre

interestinsom

epanacea

forthe

world’s

ills(by

means

ofa

system)

toa

conditionof

formidably

dense

‘opinionation’.For

some

peoplethe

lateJohnO

’London’sW

eeklyobviously

met

astrongly

feltneed,

onestronger,

Ithink,

thanit

could

havelegitim

atelyclaim

edto

meet.O

thersare

proudof reading

J. B.Priestley

andw

riterssuch

as him,because

theyare

‘serious

writers

with

am

essage’.Others

havelearned

thatMrPriestley

isa‘m

iddlebrow’

andonly

mention

himin

tonesofdepreca

tion.They

tendto

readbitterly

ironicor anguished

literature—

Waugh,H

uxley,Kafka,and

Greene.T

heyow

nthe

Penguin

selectionfrom

Eliot,as

well

assom

eother

Penguinsand

Pelicans;they

usedto

takePenguin

New

Writing

andnow

subscribeto

Encounter. They

knowa little,but often

onlyfrom

reviews

andshort

articles,about

Frazerand

Marx;

theyprobably

own

acopy

ofthePelican

editionof Freud’s

Psycho

pathologyof Everyday

Lft.

They

sometim

eslisten

totalks

onthe

Third

Programm

ew

ithtitles

likeT

heC

ultof

Evilin

Contem

poraryLiterature’.

Some

havea

precarioustenancy

inseveralnear-intellectual

worlds.Ifso, they

arelikely

tobelieve

in‘freedom

’and

tobe

‘anti-authoritarian’;they

will

haveheard

ofthe

National

Council

forC

ivilLiberties

andw

illread

theN

ewStatesm

an

andN

ation.They

willknow

theanti-M

unningsargum

entsfor

modern

art,particularly

forPicasso.

They

will

knowthe

3o81

310T

HE

US

ES

OF

LIT

ER

AC

YT

IEU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S311

arg

um

en

tsabout the

debasingeffectofthe

popularPress

andthe

corruptionofadvertisem

ents. Theyw

illfindsom

epleasure

inthat

kindof

analysis,a

pleasurew

hichcan

easilybecom

ea

sortofm

asochisticnihffism

.Yet

theyw

illbem

orediscon

certedw

henm

eeting‘reactionary’ opposition

thanthey

shouldbe,because

theyw

illthenbe

meeting

externallyproblem

sstill

no

tresolvedin

theirown

personalities.Theyw

illstilllike,butbe

ashamed

of,som

epleasures

which

theyknow

intheir

consciousandcultured

parttobe

improper.T

heyw

illfeelthatthey

sharesom

èthingofthe

‘waste

land’, ofthe

Angst,ofthe

intellectuals;butwillreally

bein

aw

asteland

oftheirown.In

anycase,they

willover—

estimate

thesatisfaction

of intellectuals.A

veryfew

acquirea

brightfinish

andpractise

‘opiniona.tion’w

hich,as Ihavesaid,isa slightly

more

intellectualformof

‘fragmentation’.hi

‘opinionation’they

canenjoy

thecrack

le

ofmainly

borrowed

ideas,can

tryto

haveat

calla

viewon

anything—

onthe

H-B

omb,

on‘w

oman’s

place’,onm

odernart,

onB

ritishagriculture,

oncap

italpunish

ment,

on‘the

popula

tion

problem’.T

heirtraininghelps

themto

takeo

n,to

assimilate

withoutabsorbing,a

greatnumberof such

items,to

‘haveview

s’atsecond,third,

andfourth

hand;itencourages

therabbit’s-eye

view.W

eare

familiarw

iththe

way

inw

hichthiscan

becomeam

entalpromiscuity;and

thesituationofthose

who

longforthiskind

ofexpertise,buthaveapoorbackgroundand

inad

equ

atetraining

inhandling

ideasor

responseto

imag

inativ

ew

ork

,is

partic

ula

rlyunfo

rtunate

.They

griphold

ofanum

ber

of

badlyunderstood

ideas,but

onthe

whole

feelastray.They

readthe

reviewsm

oreeasily

thanthe

bookswhich

arebeing

reviewed,and

inthe

endtake

themasafairly

regularsubstitute.T

heyw

anderinthe

imm

enselycrow

ded,startling,and

oftendelusive

world

ofideas

likechildren

intheir

firstF

airg

round

Ho

use

ofThrills

—re

lucta

nt

toleav

e,an

xio

us

tosee

andunderstand

andrespond

toall,

badlyw

antingto

havea

reallyenjoyable

time

but,underneath,frightened.

Theyhave,

insom

edegree,

lostthe

holdon

onekind

oflife,and

failedto

reachthe

oneto

which

theyaspire.The

loss

isgreater

thanthe

gain.The

homes

ofsom

eof

thosew

hoachieve

evenan

apparentpoise

tellas

much

asanything

else.They

haveusually

lostthe

clutteredhom

elinessof

theirorigins; they

arenot going

tobe

chintzy. Theresultis often

aneye-on-the-teacher

styleof

furnishing,like

theirfavourite

stylesin

literature;room

sw

hosepattern

isdecided

bythe

needsof

thetenants

tobe

culturallypersona

grata,not

tofall

intoany

working-class

stuffinessor

middle-class

cosmess

intenselyself-conscious room

sw

hoseoutw

ardeffects are

more

important

thantheir

liveableness.T

heyare

comm

ittingan

errorw

hichthey

havenoted

inthe

bourgeoisieand

theres

pectablew

orking-classes,w

hom

aketheir

glossyornam

entsand

thepatterned

sideof the

curtainsface

thestreet rather than

inside. Eachroom

echoesa

thousandothers

among

thosew

hosought

culturalgraduation

atthe

same

time,

andso

most

ofthem

havean

anonymous

publicair,

similar

tothat

ofu

nrelieved

utilityfurniture.

Som

uchis

designedfor

effect,for

culturallykeeping

upw

iththe

Koestlers. There

is littlehealthy

untidiness,natural

idiosyncrasy,straight

choiceof

what

ispersonally

liked.There

isno

plainvulgarity

unlesscertain

identifiedvulgarities

havebecom

efashionable. Few

thingsare

chosenbecause

someone

inthe

housereally

likesthem

, inthe

way

that makes

theirA

untsay

of the‘loud’

vaseshe

gotfor

Christm

as,‘Ee,

i’ntit

luv’ly.’‘N

evera

goodor

areal

thingsaid’

bythe

room,

becausethe

roomis

notyet

apart

oftheactuality

oflife.

Theroom

indicates,rather,

adivision

ofexperience

and, more

important,

it expressesa kind

of wish.

Theforegoing

isdeliberately

aselective

account, meant to

bringinto

focusa situationw

hich, thoughit affects only

a small

minority,

illuminates

some

wider

aspectsof

thisessay.

Sincem

anyofthe

detaib—

of readingand

otherhabits

—have

beendraw

nfrom

my

own

history, Ihavebeen

stronglyaw

areofa

tensionbetw

eenthe

wish

todefine

my

own

foffiesand

thew

ishto

justifythem

.Perhaps

onthe

whole

theform

erhas

predominated.

As

aresult

itprobably

seems

inparts

rather

31

2T

HE

US

ES

O.

LIT

ER

AC

YT

HE

UP

RO

OT

ED

AN

DT

HE

AN

XIO

US

31

3

harsh,andm

ightappeartoo

much

toim

plythatpeople

suchas

theseare

slightlyridiculous,if notdishonest:

Sheknewthe

typeso

well

—the

aspirations,them

entaldishonesty,the

familiarity

with

theoutside

ofbooks.

Thereissom

etruth

there,butit istoo

hard,toounyielding;

it would

betruer

tosay,‘H

owpathetic,’

were

itnotthatthe

mom

entit

isuttered

theunjustifiable

patronizingis

plain.People

suchas this

areoften

over-intense,it istrue. T

leirurge

forculturehassom

etimes

agrim

andhum

ourlessair

—butnot

oneas

grimas

popularpublicists,

when

theym

ockat

self-im

provement,

tryto

make

out.Y

ethow

much

theattitude

comm

andsrespect;

thatat atim

ew

henit is

soeasy

tobe

ledinto

arrogantlow-brow

ism,

some

retainan

idealisticlove

for‘things

ofthem

ind’.Behind

eventhe

more

unhappyexpres

sionsof

theattitude

thereoften

liesan

idealism,

orbetter,

anostalgia

forideals.Peoplesuch

as thisleanso

intenselytow

ardsculture

preciselybecause

theyover-value

it, evensee

it some

times

as asubstitute

forthe

religiousbeliefw

hichthey

cannotquitefaceasa seriouspossibility.R

eligionis suspect;even

more,

‘class’and

money

aresuspect.C

ultureisa

signof disinterested

goodness,of brains

andim

aginationused

togive

libertyand

poise.Behind

theoftenstrangeform

sof strivingisa w

ishforthe

assumed

freedom,for

thepow

erand

comm

andover

himself,

ofthe‘really

cultured’m

an.Thism

aybe

adelusion,since

itexpects

more

fromculture

thanculture

cangive;

butit

isa

worthy

delusion.These

peopleare

asmuch

affectedby

theirtime,in

this, asaresom

epeople

who

cangive

theirinsecuritiesam

orepresentable

dress.Itis

easyto

laytoo

much

atthe

doorof

this‘strange

diseaseofm

odernlife’,and

thatphraseisa

hundredyears

old,anyw

ay:butin

parttheseare

Matthew

Arnold’s

‘aliens’,onehundred

yearslater

andw

ithan

evencolder

wind

blowing:

Butineach

classthere

areborn

acertain

number

of natureswith

acuriosity

abouttheirbestself, with

a bent forseeingthingsas they

are,fordisentangling

themselvesfrom

machinery,forsim

piyconcerning

themselves

with

reasonand

thew

illofG

od, anddoing

theirbest tom

akethese

prevail;—

forthepursuit,in

aword,ofperfection.

.. and

thisbentalwaystendsto

takethem

outof theirclass, andto

make

theirdistinguishing

characteristic..

.theirhum

anity. Theyhave,in

general,arough

time

ofit intheirlives.

Arnold’s

undefinedaifiatus neverdid

soundaltogethercon

vincing;but

thereis

anim

portanttruthin

thepassage,and

it

hassom

eforce

evennow

.Som

eof

thiscentury’s

‘aliens’joined

theC

omm

unistPartyorthe

PeacePledge

Union

or theLeft

Book

Club

orthe

Com

monw

ealthm

ovement

orthe

SocialCreditParty

inthe

thirties.They

oftenhad

apurposive

nessthen

which

isharder

tofind

inthe

fifties,but

theurge

remains.

They

‘want

todo

something

aboutthings’

butfeel

frustrated—

bythe

varietyand

magnitude

of theproblem

sthey

discerncrouched

all roundthem

;bya

sensethat, though

theyappear

tobe

expectedto

beknow

ledgeableaboutso

much, to

haveview

son

som

anythings

likegood

democratic

citizens,there

is reallynothing

theycan

effectivelydo

tosolve

anyof the

problems.

‘Savehis

own

soul hehas

nostar’

was

appliedby

Hardy

toJude

theO

bscure; butthelightof the

soulin

today’sJudes

isa

ffickeringand

insecureone, since

theyare

made

insecure

bydoubts

abouttheir

own

adequacyto

reachfirm

decisions.Theyare

made

insecureby

them

ultitudeof contra

dictoryvoices,

eachw

ell-informed,

sure,and

persuasive;the

voices which

say, ‘Ah,butit all depends.

..‘,or ‘These

areonly

statistics, andyou

can’ttrust statistics’, or ‘Thisisonly

emotive

language’.They

areintim

idatedby

theextrem

edifficulty

of

deciding justwhatis m

orallythe

right thingto

do. Worst of all,

theirconfidence

isunderm

inedby

alurking

fear of them

ean

inglessnessofthose

basicquestions

inthem

selves(is

thisgood?

isthis

right?),which

yetthey

findthem

selvesunable

tocease

fromasking.

Thelast

clearsign-posts

beginto

disappearinto

them

istsof

anendless

relativity:does

anyoneever

reallyact

fromprinciple?

ordo

theym

erelyseem

to?;are

they,in

fact,

‘pullinganotherfast one’?; are

theyfoolishly

deceivingthem

selves?;are

theysim

plyin

needof a

tonic?‘The

best lackall

314

TH

EU

SE

SO

FL

ITE

RA

CY

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S3

15

convic

tion”;w

ew

ouldbe

inthe

presenceof the

tragedyofthe

well-intentioned,

were

itnot

thatthe

natureofthe

situationd

isallo

ws

tragicattitudes

—w

hichin

anycase

theacto

rsw

ouldsuspect

—and

rarelyallo

ws

them

toach

iev

ethe

strengthfor

tragedy.U

suallythey

remain

inregions

where

‘everythingis

belowthe

level oftragedyexcept the

passionateegoism

of thesuf&

rer’.They

areIth

with

adeadly

unwinged

honesty,often

un

relievedby

asaving

ironytow

ardsthe

sell Butstill

it isa kindofhonesty;its

mostcom

mon

fcehas

theuncertainty

of that

of aboyin

strangecom

pany.It is’indecisive;it expects no

causeforenthusiasm

, yetregretsthis

fact. B

ehindthe

shyness thereis

oftenan

undeflantm

oralcourage.

Itis

hiddenbecause

thesepeople

havelearned

thatif

itis

expressedit

islikely

tobe

mocked. The

searchforsom

esort of belief, how

everdisguised,and

itsconstant rebuttal,can

leavethem

for yearsem

otionallyinhibited.O

rtheirlonging

forabeliefis often

disguisedas yet

anotherformof apparentcynicism

, notexactlythatcom

mon

tolargenum

bersin

theworking—

classes, but relatedto

it, andw

itha

deeperhold.

Here

itis

strengthenedby

theload

ofinadequately

possessedknow

ledge.if

theyhad

absorbedthe

knowledge,perhaps

itwould

not havehad

sow

eakeningan

effect. Justenough

aboutthe

socialsciences,

aboutanthro

pology,about

sociology,about

socialpsychology,

hasbeen

acquiredto

supplya

destructivereference

onm

ost occasions.‘W

hataboutthePolynesians?’ hasnow

succeededthe

political‘W

hatabouttheRussians?’

as thekey-question. They

takeup

thegam

eoffinding

clayfeet, butw

ithoutthepertness

ofmore

intellectuallyconfidentdebunkers:theyare inw

ardlydepressed

bytheir

constantsuspicionthateverything

andeveryone

hasbeen

foundout.T

heyare

thepoor

littlerich

boysof a

world

over-suppliedw

ithpopularized

anddisconnected

information,

andm

uchless

ableto

findm

eaningfulgroupings

forits

inform

ation.Yetthere

canbe

akind

of pleasurein

feelinglike

across

between

Mr

Kingsley

Martin

andTiresias;

andone

canin

aw

ayenjoy

takingthe

lidoffw

ithG

rahamG

reene.

Becausethis

apparentcynicismisreally

anostalgia

forbeliefthere

isapeculiarinterest,notunm

ixedw

ithenvy,in

observing

otherm

engoing

throughthe

contortionsand

strainsof

findingbelief.

Mingled

with

thatis

theendless

suspicionof

deception;these

othersare

perhapshypocritical:

atany

ratethere

isaresentm

entthatforoneselfthereseem

sno

possibilityof

suchpositive

andaffirm

ativeaction,

‘Thereare

onlythe

variousenvies,/A

llofthemsad’.

Afew

findan

adequatepublic

face—

‘Ihaveno

illusions.Idonotseek

to“sell”

anyoneanything.Iknow

betterthanto

moan

inpublic.’Form

ost,some

featureofthe

faceisilluminating

—a

crinkledforehead,

eyebrows

drawn

together,a

‘shadedeye’;

most

ofall,

them

outh,w

iththe

lower

halfonlyprevented

fromslackening

unhappilyby

thetightened

upper.Theupper

halfprovidesa

fronttodisguise

thedeeperdiscontents,gives

asuggestion

ofa

loss-cuttingquasi-stoicism

.This

isthe

most

comm

onexpression

andone,like

mostofthe

others,slightlyself-pitying

andself-indulgent.

Under

thepressure

ofallthis

livinginside

oneself,preying

overthese

kindsofdoubt,

itiseasy

tosee

oneselfasa

versionofthe

dissidentByronic

hero.From

theRenaissance,from

Robinson

Crusoe,from

Rousseau,

variousform

sofrom

anticindividualism

proceed—

andin

partthisisyetone

more

formofthem

,butoneoften

goneto

seedin

self—regard.

Thesedissatisfied

romantics,

thoughbeset

bythe

senseofaneedto

make

thevoyage,rarely

setoutbecausethere

israrely

enoughconviction

eventhat

thejourney

isreally

necessary:they

more

oftenbecom

e‘the

malcontented

who

mighthave

been’.B

eneaththeirapparentcynicism

andself-pity

isadeep

senseof

beinglost,

without

purposeand

with

thew

illsapped.

Itsom

etimesseem

stom

ethatthe

situationism

ostdifficultduringtheirtw

enties,when

them

oststrenuoussearch

forculturalandintellectual

satisfactionsw

hichare

rarelygained

takesplace.

Thereis

usuallya

changeafter

thefirstfew

yearsofm

arriage.B

utatfirst,and

fora

yearor

two,

theyhave

atrapped

làok,as

thoughthey

have,by

marrying,been

guiltyofa

bourgeois

31

6T

IlEU

SE

S01,

LIT

ER

AC

Y

weakness

and,w

orse,allow

edthem

selvesto

becaught,

tobetray

theirfreedom

.T

heclim

ateof

thetim

e,as

theyap

prehendit,alm

ostspoilsthem

forundertakingm

arriagew

ithoutconsiderable

emotionaldifficulty.This

doesnotmean

onlym

eetingthe

inevitablecom

plicationsiiithe

firststagesoflivingw

ithsom

eoneelse. B

uttheyhave

tolearn

thatonecan

admit

one’sdeepest

emotions,

needneither

disown

themnor

wear

themon

theshoulderlike

chips;theyhave

tocom

eto

thepoint

ofrealizingthat

thereis

nothingstuffy

abouttrying

tobe

agood

husbandand

father,thatonem

aybe

asmuch

inthe

truththere

asone

willeverbe

inanyarea

oflife.Form

ost, especiallyduring

earlym

anhood,thereisthe

senseofa bruised

consciousness;they‘sitin

darknessandthe

shadowofdeath.

..fastbound

inm

iseryand

iron’.Their

rootshave

beentaken

upfor

scrutinytoo

often;they

havebecom

eintel

lectualand

spiritualw

aifsand

strays.T

hequestioning

continues,and

with

itthefearoffinding

answers:

We

would

ratherberuuied

thanchanged,

We

would

ratherdieinourdread

Thanclim

bthe

Crossofthem

oment

And

seeourillusionsdie.

Thesubm

ergedidealism

andthe

pervasiveindecisiveness

ensurethat

theyw

illnot‘cash

in’:fundam

entally,they

care;they

wantto

dothe

rightthing.They

arein

many

ways

small

andpitifuland

indulgent;yet

theself-consciousness,

with

allits

ramifications,has

itsattractiveness

andits

merits.M

anyof

themhave

resistedsom

eof

thew

orstdrugs;

theystand

forsom

ething.A

ndas

societycom

esnearer

tothe

dangerof

reducingthe

largerpart

ofthe

populationto

acondition

ofobediently

receptivepassivity,

theireyes

gluedto

televisionsets,pin—

ups, andcinem

ascreens,

thesefew

,becausethey

areasking

important

questions,have

aspecial

value.F

undam

entally,their questionsaffectusalltodaysincethey

haveta

dow

iththe

importance

ofroots,ofunconscious

roots,to

all ofus

asindividuals;

theyhave

todo

with

thosem

ajorsocial

TH

EU

PR

OO

TE

DA

ND

TH

EA

NX

IOU

S317

developments

ofour

time

towards

centralizationand

akind

ofclasslessness;

andthey

haveto

dow

iththe

relationshipbetw

eencultural

andintellectual

matters

andthe

beliefsby

which

men

tryto

shapetheir

lives.People

suchas

thisare

therefoream

ongthe

more

sensitive,though

nowbruised,

tentaclesofsociety. Them

ainbody

onthe

whole

ignoresthem

;but

thesym

ptoms

theyshow

referin

some

degreeto

all.B

ishopW

ilson’sconclusion

oftwo

hundredyears

agoisjust

astrue

today:

Thenum

berof those

who

needto

beaw

akenedisfar greater than

thatofthosew

honeed

comfort.

I.1