|
July 6/88 My dear Martineau, I did not know that the day of Oxford Convocation was June 20th. I was engaged to the Worcester College Gaudy for the 21st. Had I known that on the 20th you were to receive the degree, I should have been tempted to come and "assist," though I have always had an instinctive hatred of such mobs. I was at Birmingham on the 20th to see my brother. The noises on the rail greatly affected my brain and stomach. Noise was increased in the bedroom at Oxford, beside which heavy goods went to the rail, and I had two bad nights, partly from that cause, aided by the mental excitement up to midnight. When I reached home I thought myself quite well, but soon found I could not write a word without one or more blunders in several letters, and a needful epistle became a heap of unsightly blots. This is only exaggeration of a weakness becoming normal with me. I have to write as slow as any little schoolboy. My housemaid was alarmed without my knowing it; but mere rest and sleep in some days removed my wife's alarms. But I still am forced to write very slowly, and cannot help some blunders. . . . On the morning of the 22nd I called on Jowett, who instantly said, "Tonight is our Gaudy; you must come to it." I had to beg off from my Worcester College host. (I was on my way to see friends in a neighbouring village.) I sat down to dinner with 102 guests; such a company as I never before looked at. I name chiefly high Anglo-Indians and their various attaches (members of Balliol College): oi peri Lords Northbrook, Ripon, and Lansdowne, three Viceroys of India, and Sir Gordon Duff, late Governor of Bombay. Many smaller stars, Mr. Ilbert of name well known, and (long ago to me well known) General Richard Strachey, eager for bi-metallism. He began, but alas! could not finish his elucidation to me, how it would relieve Indian finance, without anyone losing anything, or any lessening of payment, or dismissing officers, or the English Government paying anything, nor any unlucky last holder of coin or paper losing. The miracle (as to me it seemed) was to be wrought, not by a double standard—that was an ignorant mistake—but by a single standard metal, composed of gold and silver in fixed ratio. I was not happy enough (or unhappy enough) to learn how this was to result; but his eagerness and confidence were to me a surprising phenomenon. A Worcester College man told me that your Types of Morals had already left a strong impression on younger men. I think there has not yet been time for the second great book and work. The glorification of our Indian Policy only made me melancholy. I hope you now get full and real rest. Though I feel as in perfect health, I have to say to myself, Non sum qualis eram, and take warnings. Pray, do you the same. Affectionately, to you and yours, In London vegetarianism seems going ahead. I have, still struggling through the press, Reminiscences of Two Exiles and Two Wars. The Quakers will be at once pleased and angry if that is possible.
|