NotI！ThereinthatgreatpileofVictorianarchitecturethelandlordsandthelawyers，thebishops，therailwaymenandthemagnatesofcommercegotoandfro——intheirincurabletraditionofcommercialisedBladesovery，ofmeretriciousgentryandnobilitysoldforriches。Ihavebeennearenoughtoknow。TheIrishandtheLabour-menrunaboutamongtheirfeet，makingafuss，effectinglittle，they’vegotnobetterplansthatIcansee。Respectitindeed！There’sacertainparaphernaliaofdignity，butwhomdoesitdeceive？TheKingcomesdowninagiltcoachtoopentheshowandwearslongrobesandacrown；andthere’sadisplayofstoutandslenderlegsinwhitestockingsandstoutandslenderlegsinblackstockingsandartfuloldgentlemeninermine。IwasremindedofonecongestedafternoonI
hadspentwithmyauntamidstaclusterofagitatedwomen’shatsintheRoyalGalleryoftheHouseofLordsandhowIsawtheKinggoingtoopenParliament，andtheDukeofDevonshirelookinglikeagorgeouspedlarandterriblyboredwiththecapofmaintenanceonatraybeforehimhungbyslingsfromhisshoulder。A
wonderfulspectacle！
Itisquaint，nodoubt，thisEngland——itisevendignifiedinplaces——andfullofmellowassociations。Thatdoesnotalterthequalityoftherealitiestheserobesconceal。Therealitiesaregreedytrade，baseprofit——seeking，boldadvertisement；andkingshipandchivalry，spiteofthiswearingoftreasuredrobes，areasdeadamongitallasthatcrusadermyunclechampionedagainstthenettlesoutsidetheDuffieldchurch。
Ihavethoughtmuchofthatbrightafternoon’spanorama。
TorundowntheThamessoistorunone’shandoverthepagesinthebookofEnglandfromendtoend。OnebeginsinCravenReachanditisasifonewereintheheartofoldEngland。BehindusareKewandHamptonCourtwiththeirmemoriesofKingsandCardinals，andonerunsatfirstbetweenFulham’sepiscopalgardenpartiesandHurlingham’splaygroundforthesportinginstinctofourrace。ThewholeeffectisEnglish。Thereisspace，thereareoldtreesandallthebestqualitiesofthehome-landinthatupperreach。Putney，too，looksAnglicanonadwindlingscale。Andthenforastretchthenewerdevelopmentsslopover，onemissesBladesoverandtherecomefirstsqualidstretchesofmeanhomesrightandleftandthenthedingyindustrialismofthesouthside，andonthenorthbankthepolitelongfrontofnicehouses，artistic，literary，administrativepeople’sresidences，thatstretchesfromCheyneWalknearlytoWestminsterandhidesawildernessofslums。Whatalongslowcrescendothatis，mileaftermile，withthehousescrowdingcloselier，themultiplyingsuccessionofchurchtowers，thearchitecturalmoments，thesuccessivebridges，untilyoucomeoutintothesecondmovementofthepiecewithLambeth’soldpalaceunderyourquarterandthehousesofParliamentonyourbow！WestminsterBridgeisaheadofyouthen，andthroughityouflash，andinamomenttheround-facedclocktowercranesuptopeeratyouagainandNewScotlandYardsquaresatyou，afatbeef-eaterofapolicemandisguisedmiraculouslyasaBastille。
ForastretchyouhavetheessentialLondon；youhaveCharingCrossrailwaystation，heartoftheworld，andtheEmbankmentonthenorthsidewithitsnewhotelsovershadowingitsGeorgianandVictorianarchitecture，andmudandgreatwarehousesandfactories，chimneys，shottowers，advertisementsonthesouth。
Thenorthwardskylinegrowsmoreintricateandpleasing，andmoreandmoredoesonethankGodforWren。SomersetHouseisaspicturesqueasthecivilwar，oneisremindedagainoftheoriginalEngland，onefeelsinthefrettedskythequalityofRestorationLace。
AndthencomesAstor’sstrongboxandthelawyers’Inns。
(Ihadapassingmemoryofmyselfthere，howonceIhadtrudgedalongtheEmbankmentwestward，weighingmyuncle’sofferofthreehundredpoundsayear。)
ThroughthatcentralessentialLondonreachIdrove，andX2
boredhernoseunderthefoamregardlessofitalllikeablackhoundgoingthroughreeds——onwhattrailevenIwhomadehercannottell。
Andinthisreach，too，onefirstmeetstheseagullsandisremindedofthesea。Blackfriarsonetakes——justunderthesetwobridgesandjustbetweenthemisthefinestbridgemomentintheworld——andbehold，soaringup，hangingintheskyoverarudetumultofwarehouses，overajostlingcompetitionoftraders，irrelevantlybeautifulandaltogetherremote，SaintPaul’s！“Ofcourse！”onesays，“SaintPaul’s！”ItistheveryfigureofwhateverfinenesstheoldAnglicancultureachieved，detached，amoredignifiedandchastenedSaintPeter’s，colder，greyer，butstillornate；ithasneverbeenoverthrown，neverdisavowed，onlythetallwarehousesandalltheroaroftraffichaveforgottenit，everyonehasforgottenit；thesteamships，thebarges，goheedlesslybyregardlessofit，intricaciesoftelephonewiresandpolescutblacklyintoitsthinmysteries，andpresently，wheninamomentthetrafficpermitsyouandyoulookroundforit，ithasdissolvedlikeacloudintothegreybluesoftheLondonsky。
AndthenthetraditionalandostensibleEnglandfallsfromyoualtogether。Thethirdmovementbegins，thelastgreatmovementintheLondonsymphony，inwhichthetrimschemeoftheoldorderisaltogetherdwarfedandswallowedup。ComesLondonBridge，andthegreatwarehousestowerupaboutyou，wavingstupendouscranes，thegullscircleandscreaminyourears，largeshipslieamongtheirlighters，andoneisintheportoftheworld。AgainandagaininthisbookIhavewrittenofEnglandasafeudalschemeovertakenbyfattydegenerationandstupendousaccidentsofhypertrophy。
ForthelasttimeImuststrikethatnoteasthememoryofthedearneatlittlesunlitancientTowerofLondonlyingawayinagapamongthewarehousescomesbacktome，thatlittleaccumulationofbuildingssoprovinciallypleasantanddignified，overshadowedbythevulgarest，mosttypicalexploitofmodernEngland，theshamGothiccasingstotheironworkoftheTowerBridge。ThatTowerBridgeistheverybalanceandconfirmationofWestminster’sdullpinnaclesandtower。ThatshamGothicbridge；intheverygatesofourmotherofchange，theSea！
Butafterthatoneisinaworldofaccidentandnature。ForthethirdpartofthepanoramaofLondonisbeyondalllaw，order，andprecedence；itistheseaportandthesea。Onegoesdownthewideningreachesthroughamonstrousvarietyofshipping，greatsteamers，greatsailing-ships，trailingtheflagsofalltheworld，amonstrousconfusionoflighters，witches’conferencesofbrown-sailedbarges，wallowingtugs，atumultuouscrowdingandjostlingofcranesandspars，andwharvesandstores，andassertiveinscriptions。Hugevistasofdockopenrightandleftofone，andhereandtherebeyondandamidstitallarechurchtowers，littlepatchesofindescribablyold-fashionedandworn-outhouses，riversidepubsandthelike，vestigesoftownshipsthatwerelongsincetorntofragmentsandsubmergedinthesenewgrowths。Andamidstitallnoplanappears，nointention，nocomprehensivedesire。Thatistheverykeyofitall。Eachdayonefeelsthatthepressureofcommerceandtrafficgrew，grewinsensiblymonstrous，andfirstthismanmadeawharfandthaterectedacrane，andthenthiscompanysettoworkandthenthat，andsotheyjostledtogethertomakethisunassimilableenormityoftraffic。Throughitwedodgedanddroveeagerforthehighseas。
IrememberhowIlaughedaloudattheglimpseofthenameofaLondonCountyCouncilsteamboatthatranacrossme。Caxtonitwascalled，andanotherwasPepys，andanotherwasShakespeare。
Theyseemedsowildlyoutofplace，splashingaboutinthatconfusion。OnewantedtotakethemoutandwipethemandputthembackinsomeEnglishgentleman’slibrary。Everythingwasaliveaboutthem，flashing，splashing，andpassing，shipsmoving，tugspanting，hawserstaut，bargesgoingdownwithmentoilingatthesweeps，thewateralla-swirlwiththewashofshipping，scalingintomillionsoflittlewavelets，curlingandfrothingunderthewhipoftheunceasingwind。Pastitallwedrove。AndatGreenwichtothesouth，youknow，therestandsafinestonefrontagewhereallthevictoriesarerecordedinaPaintedHall，andbesideitisthe“Ship“whereonceuponatimethosegentlemenofWestminsterusedtohaveanannualdinner——beforetheportofLondongottoomuchforthemaltogether。TheoldfacadeoftheHospitalwasjustwarmingtothesunsetaswewentby，andafterthat，rightandleft，theriveropened，thesenseoftheseaincreasedandprevailed，reachafterreachfromNorthfleettotheNore。
Andoutyoucomeatlastwiththesunbehindyouintotheeasternsea。Youspeedupandteartheoilywaterlouderandfaster，siroo，siroo-swish-siroo，andthehillsofKent——overwhichI
oncefledfromtheChristianteachingsofNicodemusFrapp——fallawayontherighthandandEssexontheleft。Theyfallawayandvanishintobluehaze，andthetallslowshipsbehindthetugs，scarcemovingshipsandwallowingsturdytugs，areallwroughtofwetgoldasonegoesfrothingby。Theystandout，boundonstrangemissionsoflifeanddeath，tothekillingofmeninunfamiliarlands。Andnowbehindusisbluemysteryandthephantomflashofunseenlights，andpresentlyeventhesearegone，andIandmydestroyertearouttotheunknownacrossagreatgreyspace。Wetearintothegreatspacesofthefutureandtheturbinesfalltotalkinginunfamiliartongues。Outtotheopenwego，towindyfreedomandtracklessways。Lightafterlightgoesdown。EnglandandtheKingdom，BritainandtheEmpire，theoldpridesandtheolddevotions，glideabeam，astern，sinkdownuponthehorizon，pass——pass。Theriverpasses——Londonpasses，Englandpasses。
ThisisthenoteIhavetriedtoemphasise，thenotethatsoundsclearinmymindwhenIthinkofanythingbeyondthepurelypersonalaspectsofmystory。
Itisanoteofcrumblingandconfusion，ofchangeandseeminglyaimlessswelling，ofabubblingupandmedleyoffutilelovesandsorrows。Butthroughtheconfusionsoundsanothernote。Throughtheconfusionsomethingdrives，somethingthatisatoncehumanachievementandthemostinhumanofallexistingthings。
Somethingcomesoutofit。HowcanIexpressthevaluesofathingatoncesoessentialandsoimmaterial。ItissomethingthatcallsuponsuchmenasIwithanirresistibleappeal。
Ihavefigureditinmylastsectionbythesymbolofmydestroyer，starkandswift，irrelevanttomosthumaninterests。
SometimesIcallthisrealityScience，sometimesIcallitTruth。Butitissomethingwedrawbypainandeffortontoftheheartoflife，thatwedisentangleandmakeclear。Othermenserveit，Iknow，inart，inliterature，insocialinvention，andseeitinathousanddifferentfigures，underahundrednames。I
seeitalwaysasausterity，asbeauty。Thisthingwemakeclearistheheartoflife。Itistheoneenduringthing。Menandnations，epochsandcivilisationpasseachmakingitscontributionIdonotknowwhatitis，thissomething，exceptthatitissupreme。Itis，asomething，aquality，anelement，onemayfindnowincolours，nowinnorms，nowinsounds，nowinthoughts。Itemergesfromlifewitheachyearonelivesandfeels，andgenerationbygenerationandagebyage，butthehowandwhyofitareallbeyondthecompassofmymind。
YetthefullsenseofitwaswithmeallthatnightasIdrove，lonelyabovetherushandmurmurofmyengines，outuponthewelteringcircleofthesea。
Farouttothenortheasttherecametheflickerofasquadronofwarshipswavingwhiteswordsoflightaboutthesky。Ikeptthemhull-down，andpresentlytheyweremeresummerlightningoverthewateryedgeoftheglobe。Ifellintothoughtthatwasnearlyformless，intodoubtsanddreamsthathavenowords，anditseemedgoodtometodriveaheadandonandorthroughthewindystarlight，overthelongblackwaves。
ItwasmorninganddaybeforeIreturnedwiththefoursickandstarvingjournalistswhohadgotpermissiontocomewithme，uptheshiningriver，andpasttheoldgreyTower。
Irecallthebackviewsofthosejournalistsverydistinctly，goingwithacertaindampwearinessofmovement，alongasidestreetawayfromtheriver。Theyweregoodmenandboremenomalice，andtheyservedmeuptothepublicinturgiddegenerateKiplingese，asamodestbuttononthecomplacentstomachoftheEmpire。Thoughasamatteroffact，X2isn’tintendedfortheempire，orindeedforthehandsofanyEuropeanpower。Weofferedittoourownpeoplefirst，buttheywouldhavenothingtodowithme，andIhavelongsinceceasedtotroublemuchaboutsuchquestions。Ihavecometoseemyselffromtheoutside，mycountryfromtheoutside——withoutillusions。Wemakeandpass。
Weareallthingsthatmakeandpassstrivinguponahiddenmission，outtotheopensea。
End
