On Nothing and Kindred Subjects

On Nothing and Kindred
Subjects

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Title: On Nothing & Kindred Subjects
Author: Hilaire Belloc
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one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on April 29,
2003]

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ON NOTHING & KINDRED SUBJECTS
BY
HILAIRE BELLOC

TO
MAURICE BARING

CONTENTS
ON THE PLEASURE OF TAKING UP ONE'S PEN
ON GETTING RESPECTED IN INNS AND HOTELS
ON IGNORANCE
ON ADVERTISEMENT
ON A HOUSE
ON THE ILLNESS OF MY MUSE
ON A DOG AND A MAN ALSO
ON TEA
ON THEM
ON RAILWAYS AND THINGS
ON CONVERSATIONS IN TRAINS
ON THE RETURN OF THE DEAD
ON THE APPROACH OF AN AWFUL DOOM
ON A RICH MAN WHO SUFFERED
ON A CHILD WHO DIED

ON A LOST MANUSCRIPT
ON A MAN WHO WAS PROTECTED BY ANOTHER MAN
ON NATIONAL DEBTS
ON LORDS
ON JINGOES: IN THE SHAPE OF A WARNING
ON A WINGED HORSE AND THE EXILE WHO RODE HIM
ON A MAN AND HIS BURDEN
ON A FISHERMAN AND THE QUEST OF PEACE
ON A HERMIT WHOM I KNEW
ON AN UNKNOWN COUNTRY
ON A FAËRY CASTLE
ON A SOUTHERN HARBOUR
ON A YOUNG MAN AND AN OLDER MAN
ON THE DEPARTURE OF A GUEST
ON DEATH
ON COMING TO AN END

_King's Land,
December the 13th, 1907
My dear Maurice,
It was in Normandy, you will remember, and in the heat of the year,
when the birds were silent in the trees and the apples nearly ripe, with
the sun above us already of a stronger kind, and a somnolence within
and without, that it was determined among us (the jolly company!) that
I should write upon Nothing, and upon all that is cognate to Nothing, a
task not yet attempted since the Beginning of the World.
Now when the matter was begun and the subject nearly approached, I
saw more clearly that this writing upon Nothing might be very grave,
and as I looked at it in every way the difficulties of my adventure
appalled me, nor am I certain that I have overcome them all. But I had
promised you that I would proceed, and so I did, in spite of my doubts
and terrors.
For first I perceived that in writing upon this matter I was in peril of
offending the privilege of others, and of those especially who are
powerful to-day, since I would be discussing things very dear and
domestic to my fellow-men, such as The Honour of Politicians, The
Tact of Great Ladies, The Wealth of Journalists, The Enthusiasm of

Gentlemen, and the Wit of Bankers. All that is most intimate and
dearest to the men that make our time, all that they would most defend
from the vulgar gaze,--this it was proposed to make the theme of a
common book.
In spite of such natural fear and of interests so powerful to detain me, I
have completed my task, and I will confess that as it grew it enthralled
me. There is in Nothing something so majestic and so high that it is a
fascination and spell to regard it. Is it not that which Mankind, after the
great effort of life, at last attains, and that which alone can satisfy
Mankind's desire? Is it not that which is the end of so many generations
of analysis, the final word of Philosophy, and the goal of the search for
reality? Is it not the very matter of our modern creed in which the great
spirits of our time repose, and is it not, as it were, the culmination of
their intelligence? It is indeed the