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Isabel and I think on the whole complicating them further in the
effort to simplify them to manageable and stateable elements。
Let me； nevertheless； attempt a rough preliminary analysis of this
confused process。 A main strand is quite easily traceable。 This
main strand is the story of my obvious life； my life as it must have
looked to most of my acquaintances。 It presents you with a young
couple； bright； hopeful； and energetic； starting out under Altiora's
auspices to make a career。 You figure us well dressed and active；
running about in motor…cars； visiting in great people's houses；
dining amidst brilliant companies； going to the theatre； meeting in
the lobby。 Margaret wore hundreds of beautiful dresses。 We must
have had an air of succeeding meritoriously during that time。
We did very continually and faithfully serve our joint career。 I
thought about it a great deal； and did and refrained from doing ten
thousand things for the sake of it。 I kept up a solicitude for it；
as it were by inertia； long after things had happened and changes
occurred in me that rendered its completion impossible。 Under
certain very artless pretences； we wanted steadfastly to make a
handsome position in the world； achieve respect； SUCCEED。 Enormous
unseen changes had been in progress for years in my mind and the
realities of my life； before our general circle could have had any
inkling of their existence； or suspected the appearances of our
life。 Then suddenly our proceedings began to be deflected； our
outward unanimity visibly strained and marred by the insurgence of
these so long…hidden developments。
That career had its own hidden side； of course； but when I write of
these unseen factors I do not mean that but something altogether
broader。 I do not mean the everyday pettinesses which gave the
cynical observer scope and told of a narrower； baser aspect of the
fair but limited ambitions of my ostensible self。 This 〃sub…
careerist〃 element noted little things that affected the career；
made me suspicious of the rivalry of so…and…so； propitiatory to so…
and…so； whom； as a matter of fact； I didn't respect or feel in the
least sympathetic towards； guarded with that man； who for all his
charm and interest wasn't helpful； and a little touchy at the
appearance of neglect from that。 No； I mean something greater and
not something smaller when I write of a hidden life。
In the ostensible self who glowed under the approbation of Altiora
Bailey； and was envied and discussed； praised and depreciated； in
the House and in smoking…room gossip； you really have as much of a
man as usually figures in a novel or an obituary notice。 But I am
tremendously impressed now in the retrospect by the realisation of
how little that frontage represented me； and just how little such
frontages do represent the complexities of the intelligent
contemporary。 Behind it； yet struggling to disorganise and alter
it； altogether； was a far more essential reality； a self less
personal； less individualised； and broader in its references。 Its
aims were never simply to get on； it had an altogether different
system of demands and satisfactions。 It was critical； curious； more
than a little unfeelingand relentlessly illuminating。
It is just the existence and development of this more generalised
self…behind…the…frontage that is making modern life so much more
subtle and intricate to render； and so much more hopeful in its
relations to the perplexities of the universe。 I see this mental
and spiritual hinterland vary enormously in the people about me；
from a type which seems to keep； as people say； all its goods in the
window； to others who； like myself； come to regard the ostensible
existence more and more as a mere experimental feeder and agent for
that greater personality behind。 And this back…self has its history
of phases； its crises and happy accidents and irrevocable
conclusions； more or less distinct from the adventures and
achievements of the ostensible self。 It meets persons and phrases；
it assimilates the spirit of a book； it is startled into new
realisations by some accident that seems altogether irrelevant to
the general tenor of one's life。 Its increasing independence of the
ostensible career makes it the organ of corrective criticism； it
accumulates disturbing energy。 Then it breaks our overt promises
and repudiates our pledges； coming down at last like an overbearing
mentor upon the small engagements of the pupil。
In the life of the individual it takes the role that the growth of
philosophy； science； and creative literature may play in the
development of mankind。
2
It is curious to recall how Britten helped shatter that obvious；
lucidly explicable presentation of myself upon which I had embarked
with Margaret。 He returned to revive a memory of adolescent dreams
and a habit of adolescent frankness； he reached through my shallow
frontage as no one else seemed capable of doing； and dragged that
back…self into relation with it。
I remember very distinctly a dinner and a subsequent walk with him
which presents itself now as altogether typical of the quality of
his influence。
I had come upon him one day while lunching with Somers and Sutton at
the Playwrights' Club； and had asked him to dinner on the spur of
the moment。 He was oddly the same curly…headed； red…faced
ventriloquist； and oddly different； rather seedy as well as untidy；
and at first a little inclined to make comparisons with my sleek
successfulness。 But that disposition presently evaporated； and his
talk was good and fresh and provocative。 And something that had
long been straining at its checks in my mind flapped over； and he
and I found ourselves of one accord。
Altiora wasn't at this dinner。 When she came matters were apt to
become confusedly strenuous。 There was always a slight and
ineffectual struggle at the end on the part of Margaret to
anticipate Altiora's overpowering tendency to a rally and the
establishment of some entirely unjustifiable conclusion by a COUP…
DE…MAIN。 When； however； Altiora was absent； the quieter influence
of the Cramptons prevailed； temperance and information for its own
sake prevailed excessively over dinner and the play of thought。 。 。 。
Good Lord！ what bores the Cramptons were！ I wonder I endured
them as I did。 They had all of them the trick of lying in wait
conversationally； they had no sense of the self…exposures； the
gallant experiments in statement that are necessary for good
conversation。 They would watch one talking with an expression
exactly like peeping through bushes。 Then they would； as it were；
dash out； dissent succinctly； contradict some secondary fact； and
back to cover。 They gave one twilight nerves。 Their wives were
easier but still difficult at a stretch； they talked a good deal
about children and servants； but with an air caught from Altiora of
making observations upon sociological types。 Lewis gossiped about
the House in an entirely finite manner。 He never raised a
discussion； nobody ever raised a discussion。 He would ask what we
thought of Evesham's question that afternoon； and Edward would say
it was good； and Mrs。 Willie； who had been behind the grille； would
think it was very good； and then Willie； parting the branches； would
say rather conclusively that he didn't think it was very much good；
and I would deny hearing the question in order to evade a profitless
statement of views in that vacuum； and then we would cast about in
our minds for some other topic of equal interest。 。 。 。
On this occasion Altiora was absent； and to qualify our Young
Liberal bleakness we had Mrs。 Millingham； with her white hair and
her fresh mind and complexion； and Esmeer。 Willie Crampton was with
us； but not his wife； who was having her third bab