Lore of Proserpine | Page 2

expound without wishing to convert the soul,
nor understand without self-experiment. We don't want to know things,
we want to feel them--and are ashamed of our need. Mythology,
therefore, we English must make for ourselves as we can; and if we are
wise we shall keep it to ourselves. It is a pity, because since we alone of
created things are not self-sufficient, anything that seems to break down
the walls of being behind which we agonise would be a comfort to us;
but there's a worse thing than being in prison, and that is quarrelling
with our own nature.
I shall have explained myself very badly if my reader leaves me with
the impression that I have been writing down marvels. The fact that a
thing occurs in nature takes it out of the portentous. There's nothing
either good or bad but thinking makes it so. With that I end.
* * * * *

CONTENTS
PREFACE
THE WINDOWS
A BOY IN THE WOOD
HARKNESS'S FANCY
THE GODS IN THE SCHOOLHOUSE
THE SOUL AT THE WINDOW

QUIDNUNC
THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH
BECKWITH'S CASE
THE FAIRY WIFE
OREADS
A SUMMARY CHAPTER
* * * * *

LORE OF PROSERPINE
THE WINDOWS
You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at
least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses and
a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has
a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his eyes dark;
he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower
of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided by word and
admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, put together
anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and of a dark colour,
with grey eyes of blood-red complexion; the mate of insolence and
pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and spur." I need
not go on to examine with the philosopher the acts of this pair under the
whip and spur of love, because I am not going to talk about love. For
my present purpose I shall suggest another dichotomy. I will liken the
soul itself of man to a house, divided according to the modern fashion
into three flats or apartments. Of these the second floor is occupied by
the landlord, who wishes to be quiet, and is not, it seems, afraid of fire;
the ground-floor by a business man who would like to marry, but
doubts if he can afford it, goes to the city every day, looks in at his club
of an afternoon, dines out a good deal, and spends at least a month of

the year at Dieppe, Harrogate, or one of the German spas. He is a
pleasant-faced man, as I see him, neatly dressed, brushed, anointed,
polished at the extremities--for his boots vie with his hair in this
particular. If he has a fault it is that of jingling half-crowns in his
trouser-pocket; but he works hard for them, pays his rent with them,
and gives one occasionally to a nephew. That youth, at any rate, likes
the cheerful sound. He is rather fond, too, of monopolising the front of
the fire in company, and thinks more of what he is going to eat, some
time before he eats it, than a man should. But really I can't accuse him
of anything worse than such little weaknesses. The first floor is
occupied by a person of whom very little is known, who goes out
chiefly at night and is hardly ever seen during the day. Tradesmen, and
the crossing-sweeper at the corner, have caught a glimpse on rare
occasions of a white face at the window, the startled face of a queer
creature, who blinks and wrings at his nails with his teeth; who peers at
you, jerks and grins; who seems uncertain what to do; who sometimes
shoots out his hands as if he would drive them through the glass:
altogether a mischancy, unaccountable apparition, probably mad.
Nobody knows how long he has been here; for the landlord found him
in possession when he bought the lease, and the ground-floor, who was
here also, fancies that they came together, but can't be sure. There he is,
anyhow, and without an open scandal one doesn't like to give him
notice. A curious thing about the man is that neither landlord nor
ground-floor will admit acquaintance with him to each other, although,
if the truth were known, each of them knows something--for each of
them has been through his door; and I will answer for one of them, at
least, that he has accompanied the Undesirable upon more than one
midnight excursion, and