In a Green Shade | Page 6

Northumbrian peasant, like the Scottish, greets you as an equal, the
Wiltshire man as a superior, yet neither loses dignity thereby. The
Lancashire man treats you as his inferior, and is not himself advantaged,
whether it be so or not.

A HERMITAGE IN SIGHT
I hope that I have secured for myself a haven, a yet more impenetrable
shade than this, against the time when, having seen four generations of
men, two behind and two beyond, I may consider in silence what is
likely to be the end of it all. It is true that I am getting old, but I am not
yet prepared for a lodge in the wilderness. My present house has a wall
on the village street. The post-office is a matter of crossing the road;
the church is at the bottom of a meadow. I like all that, because I like

all my neighbours and the sound of their voices. At eleven o'clock in
the morning I can hear the children let out from school, "as shrill as
swifts in upper air." That, too, I like. But the time will come when
silence is best, and, as I say, I believe that I have found the very place. I
have had my eye upon it for years, and seldom a month passes but I am
there. A small black dog and I once saw Oreads there, or said we did,
and in print at that. This very year the farm to which it belongs came
into the market, and was sold; the purchaser will treat with me. I have
described it once, nay twice, and won't do it again. Enough to say that it
is the butt end of a deep green combe in the Downs, that it is sheltered
from every wind, faces the south, and is below an ancient road, now a
grass track, and the remains of what is called a British village on the
ordnance maps, a great ramparted square with half a dozen gateways
and two mist-pools within its ambit. All about it lie the neolithic dead,
of whose race, as Glaucus told Diomede, "I boast myself to be."
We are all Iberians here, or so I love to believe, grounding myself upon
the learned Dr. Beddoes--a swarthy people, dark-haired, grey-eyed,
rather under than over the mean height. The aboriginal strain has
proved itself stronger than the Frisian, and the Danish type does not
appear at all. There are English names among us, of course, such as
Gurd, which is Gurth as pronounced by a Norman; but it is understood
that we are neolithic chiefly on the distaff side. The theory that each
successive wave of invasion demolished the existing inhabitants is
absurd. Not even the Germans do that; nor have the Turks succeeded in
obliterating the Armenian nation. No--in turn our oncoming hordes,
Celts, Romans, English, Danes, enslaved the men and married, or at
least mated with, the women. And so we are descended, and (let me at
this hour of victory be allowed to say) a marvellous people we are. For
tenacity, patience, and obedience to the law--not of men, but of
nature--I don't suppose there is another such people in the world. Those
characteristics, for which neither Celt nor Roman, Teuton nor Dane, as
we know them now, is remarkable, I set to the score of the neolithic
race, whose physical features are equally enduring.
When you get what seems like a clear case in either sex, you have a
very handsome person.
The most beautiful woman I ever saw in my days was scrubbing a
kitchen floor on her knees, when I saw her first--not a hundred miles

from here. Pure Iberian, so far as one can judge--olive skin, black hair,
grey-green eyes. Otherwise--colouring apart--the Venus of Milo, no
less. I don't say that she was very intelligent. I wonder if the Venus was.
But she was obedient to the law of her being--that I do know; and it is a
matter of faith with me that Aphrodite can have been no less so.
Neither a quick-witted nor an imaginative race are we; but we have the
roots of poetry in us, and the roots of other arts, for we have reverence
for what is above and beyond us. Custom, too, we worship, and
decency and order. We fight unwillingly, and are very slow to anger;
but we never let go. Witness the last four dreadful years; witness
Europe from Mons to Gallipoli. The British private, soldier or sailor,
has been the backbone of the fight for freedom. But I am a long way
from my valley in the Downs.
I shall first of all sink a well, for one must have water, even if one is
going to die. Then I shall make a mist-pool--that art