Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

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by Bart Schultz


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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  One reason why I disliked this kind of trance was that I could not describe it

  to myself. I cannot even now find words to render it intelligible, though it is

  probable that many readers of these pages will recognize the state in question. It

  consisted in a gradual but swiftly progressive obliteration of space, time, sensation and the multitudinous factors of experience which seemed to qualify what we are

  pleased to call ourself. In proportion as these conditions of ordinary consciousness

  were subtracted, the sense of an underlying or essential consciousness acquired

  intensity. At last nothing remained but a pure, absolute, abstract self. The universe became without form and void of content. But self persisted, formidable in its

  vivid keenness, asking or rather feeling the most poignant doubt about reality,

  ready as it seemed to find existence break as breaks a bubble round about it. And

  what then? The apprehension of a coming dissolution, the grim conviction that

  this state was the last state of the conscious self, the sense that I had followed the last thread of being to the verge of the abyss and had arrived at demonstration

  of eternal maya or illusion, stirred or seemed to stir me up again. The return of ordinary conditions of sentient existence began by my first recovering the power

  of touch, and then by the gradual though rapid influx of familiar impressions and

  diurnal interests. At last I felt myself once more a human being; and though the

  riddle of what is meant by life remained unsolved, I was thankful for this return

  from the abyss – this deliverance from so awful an initiation into the mysteries of

  scepticism.

  As if Symonds’s grasp on reality were not shaky enough, he had these

  mystical, dissociative states to contend with, accentuating his sense of

  ontological insecurity. This was an all-too-literal Platonic sense of “the

  phenomenal unreality of all the circumstances which contribute to a merely

  phenomenal consciousness.” Often, upon awakening from “that formless

  state of denuded keenly sentient being,” he asked himself “which is the

  unreality: the trance of fiery vacant apprehensive sceptical self from which

  I issue, or these surrounding phenomena and habits which veil that inner

  self and build a self of flesh-and-blood conventionality?” What would

  happen if “the final stage of the trance were reached. . . . Could another

  garment of sensitive experience clothe again that germ of self, which

  recognized the unsubstantiality of all that seem to make it human?”

  Such states would return “with diminishing frequency” until Symonds

  was twenty-eight – curiously, until , after the “crisis in Cannes.”

  Symonds worried that he might have been a bit too intense, too over-

  whelming for Sidgwick, after they had been so much together over the

  long, hot summer. They planned to meet up again “in the dim distance

  of the Riviera.” But Symonds wrote to explain “that much which I have

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  Friends versus Friends

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  told you about myself must seem painful. My past life has been painful

  in many ways, and I bear in my body the marks of what I have suffered.”

  Thus, he allows that

  when my nervous light burns low in solitude, then the shadows of the past gather

  round, and I feel that life itself is darkened. . . . I dread that art and poetry and nature are unable to do more for what Dante, with terrible truth, called ‘Li mal

  protesi nervi’ [badly strained nerves]. These darknesses, which Arthur calls my

  depression fits, assail me in splendid scenery, among pictures and statues, wher-

  ever, in fact, I ought to enjoy most and be most alive. It is only the intercourse of friends which does me really any good.

  This was a revealing reversal from his attitude in , when he had written

  to his sister concerning Arthur Sidgwick, “it seems necessary to blunt all

  my sensibilites at present, & therefore the more I like a companion the less

  he is esteemed a healthy one.” And it would prove prophetic.

  Needless to say, in all this Symonds had touched Sidgwick’s Apostolic

  soul in just the right way, eliciting perhaps the most passionate letter that

  Sidgwick ever penned:

  My dearest friend I cannot tell you all I feel: I have drunk deep of happiness: I

  have said to the Augenblick, ‘du bist so schön’ – I am so glad you say I have done

  you good: I must have given you my best: my best never comes out except when

  I am played upon & stirred by affection and subtle sympathy combined: when I

  do not get this, I become lethargic. Among the ‘dim’ common populations I seem

  to change and become common. I am so glad you let me stay with you so long;

  I might have felt that what of strange, new, delicious, rich had come into my life

  might pass out of it like a dream. I feel now that you are ‘not something to be

  retracted in a certain contingency.’

  And Symonds knew his power: he wrote to Dakyns that “Henry

  Sidgwick has been with me a week. He is numbered among mine.”

  Symonds had put the great questions to Sidgwick with unrivalled force.

  What was the great secret? the true, enduring self ? the proof of theism?

  the human cost of skepticism? the significance of altered psychological

  states? And he had tied them together with a warm appreciation of how

  friendship, duly aestheticized, was the sustaining and enabling element in

  a life absorbed in such inquiries. Here was the friend that Sidgwick had

  so long sought, with whom the soul could flow in soaring talk. No one,

  in the years to come, would do so much to bring out his best. Goethean

  hypocrisy had its Apostolic virtues.

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  Part II

  IV. The Point of View of the Universe

  At about the age of , unable to endure his position any longer, he at last yielded

  to his sexual inclinations. As he began to do this, he also began to regain calm and

  comparative health. He formed a close alliance with a youth of . This liaison was largely sentimental, and marked by a kind of etherialised sensuality. It involved no

  sexual acts beyond kissing, naked contact, and rare involuntary emissions. About

  the age of  he began freely to follow homosexual inclinations.

  At the same time, when he had begun to indulge his inborn homosexual in-

  stincts, he rapidly recovered his health. The neurotic disturbances subsided.

  He has always loved men younger than himself. At about the age of  he began

  to admire young soldiers. Since he yielded freely to his inclinati
ons the men he

  has sought are invariably persons of a lower social rank than his own. He carried

  on one liaison continuously for  years; it began without passion on the friend’s side, but gradually grew to nearly equal strength on both sides. He is not attracted

  by uniforms but seeks some uncontaminated child of Nature. The methods of

  satisfaction have varied with the phases of his passion. At first they were romantic

  and Platonic, when a hand-touch, a rare kiss, mere presence, sufficed. In the

  second period sleeping side by side, inspection of the naked body of the loved

  man, embracements, occasional emissions after prolonged contact. In the third

  period the gratification became more frankly sensual. It took every shape: mutual

  masturbation, intercrural coitus, fellatio, irrumatio, occasionally paedicatio, always according to the inclination or concession of the beloved male. He himself plays

  the active masculine part. He never yields himself to the other, and he asserts

  that he never has the joy of finding himself desired with ardour equal to his own.

  He does not shrink from passive paedicatio; but it is never demanded of him.

  Coitus with males, as above described, always seems to him healthy and natural;

  it leaves a deep sense of well-being, and has cemented durable friendships. He

  has always sought to form permanent ties with the men whom he has adored so

  excessively.

  He is of medium height; not robust, but with great nervous energy, with

  strong power of will and self-control, able to resist fatigue and changes of external circumstance. In boyhood he had no liking for female occupations, or for the

  society of girls, preferring study and solitude. He avoided games and the noisy

  occupations of boys, but was only non-masculine in his indifference to sport, was

  never feminine in dress or habit. He never succeeded in his attempts to whistle. Is a great smoker, and has at times drunk much. He likes riding, skating and climbing,

  but is a poor horseman, and is clumsy with his hands. He has no capacity for the

  fine arts and music, though much interested in them, and is a prolific author.

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  He has suffered extremely throughout life owing to his sense of the differ-

  ence between himself and normal human beings. No pleasure he has enjoyed, he

  declares, can equal a thousandth part of the pain caused by the internal conscious-

  ness of Pariahdom. The utmost he can plead in his own defence, he admits, is

  irresponsibility, for he acknowledges that his impulse may be morbid. But he feels

  absolutely certain that in early life his health was ruined, and his moral repose

  destroyed, owing to the perpetual conflict with his own inborn nature, and that

  relief and strength came with indulgence. Although he always has before him the

  terror of discovery, he is convinced that his sexual dealings with men have been

  thoroughly wholesome to himself, largely increasing his physical, moral, and in-

  tellectual energy, and not injurious to others. As a man of letters he regrets that

  he has been shut out from that form of artistic expression which would express

  his own emotions. He has no sense whatever of moral wrong in his actions, and

  he regards the attitude of society towards those in his position as utterly unjust

  and founded on false principles.

  Case History of John Addington Symonds

  As Symonds explained in the case history, there was a certain peri-

  odization in his sexual maturation, such that he moved from a more subli-

  mated, Platonized form of sexuality with Willie Dyer, through a somewhat

  more direct middle period, when he took up with the nineteen-year-old

  Clifton student Norman Moor, and on to an amazingly libidinous mid-

  dle age, when he would become intimate comrades with the Swiss peas-

  ant Christian Buol and the Venetian gondolier Angelo Fusato. If 

  marked the transition from the second to the third stage, the transition

  from the first to the second came in , with the “crisis in Cannes.”

  Once Henry Sidgwick came on the scene, Symonds was to become a less

  divided self. Strange as it surely must seem to readers of The Methods of

  Ethics, Sidgwick’s vision of education and culture was worked out in his

  intense interplay with Symonds, who in turn was a vivid, forceful presence

  at nearly every major crisis point in Sidgwick’s life.

  Now, this account of the concrete sexual practices underlying

  Symonds’s sometimes more lyrical or etherealized public presentations

  of them is of considerable value for interpreting his relationship with

  Sidgwick, who, needless to say, was never quite as forthcoming about the

  particulars of his sexual existence. Or rather, insofar as he was, the record

  has in large part been either destroyed or protected from public exposure.

  This, naturally enough, has made the so-called “friendship problem” more

  of an issue in his case. As Louis Crompton has eloquently framed it: “the

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  central issue confronting gay studies may be called ‘the friendship prob-

  lem.’ If a novel, poem, or essay describes or expresses ardent feelings for a

  member of the same sex, when are we to regard them merely as reflections

  of what is usually called romantic friendship?”

  If this is no longer quite the problem that it was when Crompton wrote, it

  is thanks in part to work on Symonds, who provided a very accurate means

  for decoding just how sexualized his more elusive pronouncements really

  were. Admittedly, much has been written to show how a proper contex-

  tual, historical understanding of Victorian friendship precludes any ready

  translation of it into the sexual and gender categories of more recent times.

  Thus, it has variously been claimed, passionate, emotional expressions of

  brotherly love were not necessarily sexual, and effeminate behavior was

  not necessarily sexual, and many forms of same-sex behavior were not

  necessarily construed as any indication of a deeper underlying identity

  or character. And no doubt considerable caution is needed in trying to

  understand the complex web of acts and identities of the Victorian period.

  Still, the case of Symonds does rather put the lie to any attempt to

  interpret in a desexualized manner the notions of comradeship at play in

  the English Whitmanians and others of a Hellenistic bent. The record of

  his inclinations and activities leaves no doubt whatsoever about precisely

  what was figurative and what literal. What seems clear, from his case,

  is that even his more etherealized periods often involved a good deal of

  body contact, foreplay, and physical arousal, even if he did swear that he

  was being “chaste.” Thus, he could spend a long evening with the young

  Norman M
oor during which, as his diary of January , , so zealously

  explains:

  I stripped him naked, and fed sight, touch and mouth on these things. Will my

  lips ever forget their place upon his breast, or on the tender satin of his flank, or on the snowy whiteness of his belly? Will they lose the nectar of his mouth – those

  opened lips like flower petals, expanding neath their touch and fluttering? Will

  my arms forget the strain of his small fragile waist, my thighs the pressure of his

  yielding thighs, my ears the murmur of his drowsy voice, my brain the scent of

  his sweet flesh and breathing mouth? Shall I ever cease to hear the metallic throb

  of his mysterious heart – calm and true – ringing little bells beneath my ear?

  I do not know whether, after all, the mere touch of his fingers as they met and

  clasped and put aside my hand, was not of all the best. For there is the soul in the

  fingers. They speak. The body is but silent, a dumb eloquent animated work of

  art made by the divine artificer.

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  Beneath his armpits he has no hair. The flesh of his throat and breast is white as

  ivory. The nipples of his breats are hardly to be seen, they are so lost in whiteness and so soft. Between them, on the breastbone, is a spot of dazzling brightness, like

  snow or marble that has felt the kisses of the sun. His hips are narrow, hardened

  where the muscles brace the bone, but soft as down and sleek as satin in the hollows

  of the groin. Shy and modest, tender in the beauty-bloom of ladhood, is his part

  of sex – fragrant to the searching touch, yet shrinking: for

  when the wandering hand rests there, the lad turns pleadingly into my arms as

  though he sought to be relieved of some delicious pang. . . . Ah, but the fragrance of his body! Who hath spoken of that scent undefinable, which only love can seize,

  and which makes love wild mad and suicidal.

  Symonds could actually go on to say that “neither then, nor afterwards,

  nor before, did any one of those things take place between us which people

  think inseparable from love of this sort,” seemingly implying, in some

  oblique way, that what he was doing was somehow not really licentious

 

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