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Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

Page 76

by Bart Schultz


  because ejaculation was not the set aim.

  Admittedly, this affair was after the “crisis in Cannes,” and by contrast,

  in , Symonds could write disapprovingly to Dakyns about the reckless

  behavior of Arthur Sidgwick with a boy:

  I do not intend to discuss his conduct much more. I shall long to hear of him,

  every new thing; & I believe in his goodness. But that he is in a dangerous position cannot be denied; when I think of him I range the matter somehow in question &

  answers like the following–

  Is this Greek? No.

  If it were Greek, is it what Plato wd allow? No.

  Is it what the world at large wd call romantic, sentimental, effeminate, on the verge of vice? Yes.

  Supposing the world wrong in a special instance, may not its general verdict be

  right? I think so.

  What is the source of Arthur’s love? Is it intellectual sympathy? No.

  Is it moral good? No.

  Is it consentaneity of tastes? No.

  Is it chiefly aesthetical enjoyment & pleasure of highly refined sensuousness? Yes.

  Are these likely to produce moral & intellectual strengths? No.

  Are they capable of producing moral or intellectual debility? Yes, capable.

  What has yr experience been of this ? That if uncontrolled it is evil.

  In all cases of possible harm, what does Duty say? Avoid all appearance of

  evil.

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  In case moral injury were to accrue, where wd the evil fall most heavily? On the

  boy, & if on him then through him on his fellow boys.

  Does Arthur expose himself to external danger? Yes, to a very gt extent.

  These questions by no means settle or exhaust the matter. It is a case of absolutely

  new casuistry. There is no rule by wh to measure it as yet.

  Here in fine is the Platonic conscience of Symonds (and his friends)

  in his first phase. Still, as the line about believing in Arthur’s goodness

  suggests, the Platonic conscience could be pleasantly lenient about sensual

  lapses. And it was certainly fascinated by them.

  In fact, Symonds had been introduced to Norman in December of

   by Dakyns, who long had had a similar infatuation with the young

  Cecil Boyle. In another long letter from , Symonds bemoans at length

  the fact that he could not accompany Dakyns and Boyle on a trip to the

  Riviera: “it is exceedingly bitter that you should be there & not I, you &

  your Myrtilus, & that Theocritus should be once more alive.” Their

  correspondence from this time is largely devoted to boy love. Dakyns

  even helped bring Symonds to Clifton as a lecturer – the better to pur-

  sue Norman at close quarters – and their correspondence simply exudes

  exuberant hyperbole about their boys.

  Hence, it is in this context that one has to read Sidgwick’s involve-

  ment with Symonds, particularly during its formative moment, in the

  decade of storm and stress. Nearly all of Sidgwick’s closest, most enduring

  male friends were homosexual or bisexual: Symonds, Dakyns, his brother

  Arthur, Myers, Browning, Noel. And these men were not simply prone

  to the standard passing phase of schoolboyish same-sex behavior. Quite

  the contrary, they were – with the exception of Myers – devoted to a life

  of Uranian activity and philosophizing. That is, they were all more or less

  like Symonds in finding a larger political – even cosmic – meaning in their

  “inversion,” one that shaped their understandings of culture and educa-

  tion. And this could take a remarkably flamboyant form. Oscar Browning,

  for example, has grown into an extraordinary (if dubious) Cambridge leg-

  end, and his story shares many of the telltale marks. Annan describes

  Browning’s personal touch when it came to being an educational inspirer

  for boys who were not part of the smart set:

  He opened their minds by making them mix with the elegant sprigs. He edu-

  cated the sprigs, too, by puncturing their ideas of good form. Class differences

  evaporated in his rooms, where at his parties one would find foreign professors,

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  diplomats, apprentice teachers, merchant seamen and soldiers in full regimentals.

  He would strum Wagner on the piano and Desmond MacCarthy remembered

  how after he had sung ‘Voi che sapete’ a Tommy in scarlet uniform picked him up and spanked him for singing false notes. He was senior treasurer to dozens

  of undergraduate societies, including the Union. It was he rather than Seeley

  who got the history school in the university afloat and it was he who first set

  up a teacher training college and became its principal. . . . Browning left behind him , letters, of which , were from soldiers or sailors and some from

  a few shady characters. He never concealed his interest in young men and wrote

  an ode in alcaics to the penis (‘Partner of our days, King potent over men,

  Troublesome author of anxieties you are . . . ’). Some Victorians were privately less shocked by demonstrations of homosexual affection than their successors and

  were even indulgent towards spooning and swooning over choristers. As a boy

  Browning had been revolted by the scenes of animal lust in college at Eton and

  there was never any evidence that he stole even a kiss from the undergraduates he

  befriended.

  Doubtless Browning was the one manning the piano at that Dresden

  pension in the summer of . At Eton, he had been a student of none

  other than William Johnson Cory, and as noted, when he went up to

  Cambridge he was one of Sidgwick’s Apostolic brethren – indeed, the

  one who eventually donated the cedarwood chest, known as the “Ark,”

  in which the Society stored its papers. And he was laughably far from

  being above suspicion. Although he returned to Eton after Cambridge

  and became a popular teacher, he was driven out in  because of the

  close relationships he established with the boys, particularly the future

  Lord Curzon. Symonds and Sidgwick worked behind the scenes on his

  behalf, unsuccessfully attempting to undercut Browning’s nemesis, the

  headmaster Hornby. Sidgwick deemed Browning rather than Hornby

  the more advanced educator, and Browning’s transition to Cambridge

  was aided by his Apostolic friends. Sidgwick, like nearly everyone else,

  had reservations about Browning’s scholarship. This, however, in no way

  impeded their friendship or collaboration in the cause of educational

  reform. Much the same assessment could be given of Sidgwick’s re-

  lationship with Dakyns, who was also by all accounts a most inspiring

  schoolmaster. Stimulating the intellect was their mission, not promot-

  ing sports.

  Consider also Noel, the aristocratic Apo
stle who identified himself as a

  radical and poet, and who was, if anything, even more flagrantly sexually

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  active and politicized than Symonds (and was, in all probability, the one

  who persuaded Symonds to take up with his soldier). As Symonds summed

  him up:

  Noel was married, deeply attached to his wife, a poet of high soaring fancies, a

  philosopher of burning nebulous ideas. He justified passion to his own eyes and

  preached it to others in an esoteric quasi-Manichean mysticism. He was vain of

  his physical beauty, which was splendid at that epoch; and his tastes tended to

  voluptuousness. The attraction of the male governed him through this vanity

  and this voluptuousness. He loved to be admired. He enjoyed in indolent sultana

  fashion the contact of masculine desire, the attouchements of excited organisms, the luxurious embracements of nakedness. Strange to say, the indulgence of these

  tastes did not disturb his mental equilibrium. Both as poet and thinker, he remained

  vigorous and grew in comprehension. Finally, I think, he overlived, absorbed, and

  clarified by religious mysticism the grossness of his passions. But for me the

  conversation of this remarkable man was nothing less than poisonous – a pleasant

  poison, it is true.

  Symonds would also appreciatively suggest that the “exaltation of

  enthusiasm which distinguishes Goethe, Wordsworth, Shelley, appears

  rarely in their contemporaries and successors. Only perhaps in Roden

  Noel does the cult of Nature rise to the fervour point of philosophical and

  religious inspiration.”

  As remarked earlier, Noel, who would die the year after Symonds,

  in , also sought a literary career (following a disastrous attempt at

  business), soliciting the patronage of Lord Houghton (Richard Monckton

  Milnes). This made sense, given that, as noted, Lord Houghton was the

  greatest living Angel and a decided “invert.” During the sixties, Sidgwick

  was extremely close to Noel, perhaps closer to him than to anyone else,

  with the possible exceptions of Dakyns, Cowell, and later on, Symonds.

  The Memoir includes a letter from Sidgwick to Noel’s widow, which reads:

  I must write a few lines – though I feel how useless words are – to tell you how much shocked and grieved I was by the news of Roden’s death. I have been thinking

  ever since of him and of your trouble; and also of the early years of our friendship, when we talked and wrote to each other, in the eagerness of youth, on all things in

  heaven and earth. I have always felt that, though he was keenly disappointed by the

  world’s inadequate recognition of his genius, he did his work in life none the less

  resolutely, and brought out his great gifts, and remained nobly true to his ideal.

  I never knew any one more free from what Goethe calls – “was uns alle bändigt,

  das Gemeine.” After conversing with him I always felt that the great realities of

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  Life and Thought and Art, the true concerns of the human spirit, became more

  real and fresh and vivid to me.

  I am afraid that in later years I often vexed him somewhat by unsympathetic

  criticism of his poetic work: but I am glad to think that this never made any

  division between us, – he knew that I recognised in him the “deep poetic heart”

  and the rare constructive force and vividness of poetic imagination in which he

  was second to none among his contemporaries. (M )

  Noel, as Desmond Heath has observed, called himself “an Advanced

  Liberal with Democratic Leanings,” though he was one who also wor-

  ried, like Mill, about socialism’s possible antagonism to individuality and

  eccentricity. Unlike “Blake, Roden was a nature worshipper, but unlike

  Wordsworth, he faced her ‘disinterest’ quite squarely, declaring that ‘Truth

  must embrace both horns of the dilemma’.” All this perforce made him

  exceptionally congenial to Sidgwick and Symonds, however critical they

  both were of many (not all) of his poetic productions. Sidgwick judged

  his friend a “poetical man,” if not exactly a poet, and he criticized Noel’s

  willingness “to take a poet as a philosopher” as opposed to an artist pro-

  viding the matter for philosophy, “special” by virtue of emotional fine

  tuning. Still, he admitted that A Modern Faust, Noel’s most autobiograph-

  ical poem, was a very special appreciation of the difficulties confronting

  “the most sympathetic, thoughtful and sensitive amongst ourselves.” The

  tenor of their Apostolic friendship is suggested by some lines from the

  letter, cited in Chapter , that Sidgwick wrote to Noel when the latter was

  traveling in Syria, in :

  If you throw any light on Platonic mysticism, bring out any esoteric doctrines that

  our uninitiated eyes are now blind to, why, we shall be proud of you as a man and

  a brother. Our [Apostolic] discussions have of late taken a slightly political and

  social turn – for instance, I am now engaged on an essay on the “Over-population”

  theory – but every now and then we have a good speculation, than which nothing

  has a more rousing and quickening effect. I wish you could have discussed with

  us last term “Whether Life Culminated,” viz. Whether the noblest view of man’s

  course inter utramque facem was not that of continued progress instead of first ascent and then descent. (M )

  It was also in a letter to Noel that Sidgwick wrote about taking the

  lines from Shelley’s “Hymn to Apollo” as the motto of a true metaphysic.

  Shelley was another special bond between Sidgwick, Noel, and Symonds,

  and it is illuminating that, as Crompton shows, “Shelley was unique in

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  challenging accepted sex mores in his prose as well as in his verse. Both

  his Godwinism and his deep immersion in Greek literature gave him a

  point of view remote from his countrymen.” Shelley would virtually

  rank with Goethe as a sort of poetic encoding of the great questions, the

  deepest problems.

  Noel was also dear friends with Cowell and a member of the Alpine

  Club, and thus his links to Sidgwick were singularly close. Symonds met

  Noel through Sidgwick. And happily, Noel also contributed an anonymous

  case history to Symonds, for inclusion in Sexual Inversion:

  He dreams indifferently about men and women, and has strong sexual feeling for

  women. Can copulate, but does not insist on this act; there is a tendency to refined, voluptuous pl
easure. He has been married for many years, and there are several

  children of the marriage.

  He is not particular about the class or age of the men he loves. He feels with

  regard to older men as a woman does, and likes to be caressed by them. He is

  immensely vain of his physical beauty; he shuns paedicatio and does not much care for the sexual act, but likes long hours of voluptuous communion during which his

  lover admires him. He feels the beauty of boyhood. At the same time he is much

  attracted by young girls. He is decidedly feminine in his dress, manner of walking,

  love of scents, ornaments and fine things. His body is excessively smooth and

  white, the hips and buttocks rounded. Genital organs normal. His temperament

  is feminine, especially in vanity, irritability and petty preoccupations. He is much

  preoccupied with his personal appearance and fond of admiration; on one occasion

  he was photographed naked as Bacchus. He is physically and morally courageous.

  He has a genius for poetry and speculation, with a tendency to mysticism.

  He feels the discord between his love for men and society, also between it and

  his love for his wife. He regards it as in part, at least, hereditary and inborn in

  him.

  Noel’s case falls under the classification “Psychosexual Herma-

  phroditism,” which is probably where Sidgwick’s case history would have

  been placed had he only contributed one – though of course, Sidgwick

  was by all accounts impotent with women. Noel apparently believed

  his bisexuality inborn in part because his great uncle was none other than

  Percy Jocelyn, the bishop of Clogher, who in  “was apprehended with

  a guardsman of the First Regiment in the White Lion Tavern near the

  Haymarket, a well-known place of assignation.” His gender bending

  and decadence complicate any straightforward identification of him with

  the Whitmanians, though he too professed to worship at that shrine.

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  Lamentably or not, there is no such frank record of the particulars of

  Sidgwick’s sexual tendencies, though there is such a mountain of evidence

 

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