Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

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Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe Page 93

by Bart Schultz


  spartan, spare building in the Tudor-gothic style of Waterhouse, everything geared

  to proving that women could compete on equal terms with men. But Sidgwick

  got his friend Champneys to design Newnham in the Queen Anne style: the

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  students’ rooms were papered with Morris wallpaper, and his wife . . . insisted that the corridors should have windows on both sides for cheerfulness.

  Sidgwick was even responsible for the road called Sidgwick Avenue,

  which was built to accommodate the expanding college, though the battle

  to get it built put him at odds with his old Apostolic friend Jebb, whose

  property was appropriated for the purpose. (M –)

  None of this is to deny, of course, that both the Sidgwicks were cau-

  tious reformers in the extreme, worrying at every turn that Cambridge

  was not ripe for change. If Newnham was effectively a Millian experi-

  ment in living, involving various experiments in fostering individuality,

  autonomy, and marital friendship, it was therefore just the kind of thing

  that could be threatened by excessive public recognition of its radicalness.

  And if Mill could have witnessed their sad experience in the s, he

  would have reverted to his low opinion of the ancient universities. More-

  over, it was in this painful context that Sidgwick took up the business of

  the Symonds biography. He lost Symonds, Noel, and Benson in quick

  succession, but the death of the first was in many ways the hardest. And

  beyond his disenchantment with Cambridge politics, there was the public

  spectacle of Oscar Wilde’s ruin, at the very point when he was working on

  assembling the biography. His justified sense that matters of sex reform

  were being threatened by a conservative backlash surely helps to explain

  why he so insistently guided Horatio Brown to ensure that Symonds’s

  sexual concerns would be carefully masked to appear as good old religious

  agonizing.

  Still, it bears repeating that the Sidgwicks were more than “first-wave”

  feminists focused on changing such legal impediments to women as dis-

  enfranchisement. They clearly did recognize the insidious elements of

  domination in marriage, the family, and domesticity that kept women

  back, kept them from even thinking of taking up the new educational

  and career opportunities for which they were fighting. If they were pre-

  dictably restrained and decorous when it came to the politics of the body

  and of sex, they were at least engaged in a determined effort to reduce

  the pressures to marry and to improve the sympathetic quality of future

  marriages. (And given Henry’s ambivalent and limited libido, he cannot

  be accused of dominating or brutalizing via sex in his own marriage.) Nor

  is it at all far-fetched to think that Henry’s views on marriage had been

  shaped by his friendship with Symonds. As he well knew, there were many

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  reasons why marriage was not for everyone, why people capable of other

  forms of sympathetic development ought to be allowed to follow out their

  own processes. On many fronts, Sidgwickian feminism was a complemen-

  tary force to Symonds’s Whitmanian challenge to sex law and custom.

  As the following chapter will show, this is evident even in the Methods.

  Sidgwick was plainly persuaded, with Symonds, that the whole vast region

  of sex, male and female, was another in which free and open inquiry had

  been quashed by religious orthodoxy and dogmatism posing as science.

  How, given his work with Newnham, could he have been anything but an

  interested supporter of Symonds and Ellis in their investigations?

  And in the end, his work did have the personal touch. Ironically, Reba

  Soffer has even compared Eleanor Sidgwick and Newnham to Jowett and

  Balliol: “shy, diminutive Eleanor Sidgwick consistently thought of herself

  as Henry Sidgwick’s wife rather than as a public figure”; nonetheless,

  “warning her graduates that marriage was no substitute for an engaged

  life, she forcefully pushed them into public activity. Newnham’s graduates,

  like Balliol’s, were meant to succeed not for their own sakes, but for college

  and country.” In fact, the Sidgwicks did make a point of getting to

  know their students, and Eleanor was apparently rather happy to allow

  her appendage to range about as a free critic – a role to which he was

  much looking forward as a compromise escape from his station and its

  duties. He had been practicing for many years. As one of the very first

  Newnham students, Mary Paley (later Marshall) recalled:

  Mr Sidgwick was the most delightful conversationalist on any subject. I have

  known only one to equal him, Henry Smith of Oxford. Every subject Mr Sidgwick

  touched upon was never the same again. As someone said of him: ‘If you so

  much as mentioned a duster in his presence he would glorify it on the spot.’

  His conversation made him sometimes inattentive to ordinary affairs and one

  day when he was helping us at dinner after using a tablespoon for the soup

  he pulled out the entire contents of the apple pie with the soup ladle, to our

  great delight. Though we were only five he found us rather troublesome. In an-

  other letter he writes: ‘There is such a strong impulse towards liberty among the

  young women attracted by the movement that they will not submit to maternal

  government.’

  Eleanor was of course among the early women students attending

  Cambridge lectures. And as her best friends were wont to say, she was

  not really shy – she was silent “only because she was thinking hard.”

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  And she could and did advise her students in a way bespeaking the old

  Balliol mode of personal guidance. One of her students gave an account:

  I asked her when I might come, and went rather in fear and trembling on Wednes-

  day night. I had nearly  / hours alone with her, and she was angelic, talking

  so much herself. . . . She told me of a good many things I could do in a political way, organising and speaking, etc., but she advised me if I did that, only to do one question – perhaps Education – study it theoretically and practically – try to get on a County Council Committee. . . . But what she really advised me to do was to go on with my work for some time, and perhaps try to write some little thing, because

  she said with a view to my doing college work ultimately . . . it would rather stand me in place of a degree. . . . The marvellous thing is that thou
gh she hardly ever talks to a student, she seems to know by instinct exactly what stages of thought

  they are all in. I don’t know what people may call her, but to me she seems to be

  one of the most deeply religious women I’ve ever met, and one feels able to talk

  to her about religion in a perfectly free and natural way, which one couldn’t do if

  she was the least out of sympathy.

  Such encounters suggest that the comparison to Jowett is judicious,

  except that Jowett used to explain that people were wrong to suppose that

  he was thinking when he remained silent. The Sidgwicks as a team, an

  early example of the academic couple, achieved a similar but more benign

  effect than Jowett:

  He [Henry] liked the presence of youth all about him again. There can be no doubt

  that having him at hand, through a thin partition, to sweeten her intercourse with

  the students, as well as to counsel in private, altered the aspect of her daily task

  to Mrs. Sidgwick – how much, she was realising when those passages in the Life

  were written. She and he dined once a week in hall with the staff and students, and

  third - and fourth-year girls were invited, four at a time, to breakfast: those fearful occasions to which old students have referred. Mrs. Sidgwick was “at home” to

  the girls once a week, when the master would extract himself from the mazes of

  his books to wander about the drawing-room with a teacup and talk to them, or

  read aloud from the newest poet. Students could now come to and fro under cover

  on the stormiest evening; there was the pleasant sense of being “all under one

  roof.” The doors between the halls were open, day and night, and the new rooms

  over the Principal’s lodging took in the last wanderers from without – at present.

  The spirit of growth was not extinct.

  Given the “stupid conservatism” of so many of the male Cambridge un-

  dergraduates – including Sidgwick’s nephew A. C. Benson – it is perhaps

  not surprising that his increased dealing with independent young women

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  students did help stave off his depressive tendencies. When he was not

  “boring” Russell and Moore with his one-joke lectures – the lectures that

  he hated giving, since he thought the whole practice another worthless

  educational encumbrance – he was lecturing to the women of Newnham.

  But better still, from his angle, was this opportunity to deploy his sym-

  pathetic conversational talents in helping young women feel at home in

  the academic men’s club that was Cambridge. Sidgwick the talker still

  believed in the value of talk. And he no longer had to worry very much

  about making his students too much resemble him – they were not likely

  to go too far in submitting to his maternal government. Indeed, in his last

  decade he was beginning to think that the students, whether religious or

  agnostic, needed rather more skepticism.

  Perforce, Newnham was a remarkably well-connected place, largely

  thanks to “Nora.” In June of , no less than three of the honorary

  degrees awarded to Cambridge were to her relatives: “Nora’s brother and

  brother-in-law and uncle” – that is, “A. J. Balfour, Lord Rayleigh, and

  Lord Salisbury.” The occasion made for a memorable “Garden Party” at

  Newnham:

  [I]t was an exciting time, especially as we achieved for Newnham the triumph of

  getting all the Swells (including the Prince and Princess of Wales) to come to its

  Garden Party. This was partly due to the cordiality of the Vice-Chancellor, who

  was, I think, anxious to show that though Cambridge will not give women degrees,

  it does not in any way draw back the hand it has held out to them.

  We had the Premier, Lady Salisbury, and Gwendolen Cecil, as well as Arthur

  and Alice Balfour [staying with us]. It strained the resources of our humble

  establishment, but I like having the Salisburys. I think Lord S. is particularly

  attractive in private life – one recognizes the style of his speeches in his hu-

  mourous observations; otherwise I should describe his manner as simple, gentle,

  and unassuming. (M –)

  Given the nature of Newnham, its leadership and political connections,

  it might well seem as elitist as Jowett’s Balliol, committed to training young

  women, if not to go out and rule the world, at least to go out and work

  as intellectual equals with the men who were. Was this, then, the form

  that Sidgwick’s supposed “Government House” utilitarianism actually

  took? Was the Millian and Mauricean ideal meant strictly for domestic

  consumption, for the vanguard of English civilization? And even then

  only for the fortunate few? Precisely when was the promotion of that

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  Millian vision of saving sympathetic friendship and expanded culture an

  egalitarian matter, and when not?

  The larger political context of the Sidgwicks’ reform efforts is of course

  troubling and calls for further investigation. But before moving on, it is

  worth adding here that the epistemological side of Sidgwick’s educational

  and cultural vision was neither as crude nor as masculinist as some fem-

  inist critics have charged. The notions of knowledge and authority that

  Henry and Eleanor shared were, admittedly, shaped by what they deemed

  the successes of scientific method. But they were also seeking a different

  understanding of the forms of inquiry that might be necessary in para-

  psychology or depth psychology, covering research on sex and gender.

  Indeed, the eclectic, social epistemological form of intuitionism described

  in earlier chapters allowed for precisely this type of interpretation and

  implementation: much sensitive soul searching was required in the effort

  to penetrate to one’s deepest convictions, and much sympathetic listen-

  ing was required in order to find common ground, the free consensus of

  impartial inquirers. This was especially true in the realm of the “deepest

  problems,” the problems that Henry and Eleanor, like Henry and Johnnie,

  were so thoroughly devoted to exploring.

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  Colors

  Both the last talkers deal much in points of conduct and religion studied in the ‘dry light’ of prose. Indirectly and as if against his will the same elements from time

  to time appear in the troubled and poetic talk of Opalstein. His various and exotic

  knowledge, complete although unready sympathies, and fine, full, discriminative

  flow of language, fit him out to be the best of talke
rs; so perhaps he is with some,

  not quite with me – proxime accessit, I should say. He sings the praises of the earth and arts, flowers and jewels, wine and music, in a moonlight, serenading manner,

  as to the light guitar; even wisdom comes from his tongue like singing; no one

  is, indeed, more tuneful in the upper notes. But even while he sings the song of

  the Sirens, he still hearkens to the barking of the Sphinx. Jarring Byronic notes

  interrupt the flow of his Horatian humours. His mirth has somethng of the tragedy

  of the world for its perpetual background; and he feasts like Don Giovanni to a

  double orchestra, one lightly sounding for the dance, one pealing Beethoven in

  the distance. He is not truly reconciled either with life or with himself; and this

  instant war in his members sometimes divides the man’s attention. He does not

  always, perhaps not often, frankly surrender himself in conversation. He brings

  into the talk other thoughts than those which he expresses; you are conscious

  that he keeps an eye on something else, that he does not shake off the world, nor

  quite forget himself. Hence arise occasional disappointments; even an occasional

  unfairness for his companions, who find themselves one day giving too much, and

  the next, when they are wary out of season, giving perhaps too little.

  Robert Louis Stevenson, “Talk and Talkers”

  I. Purity and Suicide

  Symonds did not much care for his friend Stevenson’s characterization of

  him as “Opalstein.” It mistook the species for the genus, he suggested. Yet

  Stevenson had a fine ear for this world of talk and talkers, in which so much

  rested with the conversational virtues; the author of The Strange Case of

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde knew a dipsychical self when he saw one, and

  these were times when he often saw little else. A complex and many-

  faceted affair, the frank surrender of Apostolic soaring was not easily

  achieved in the larger and often unsympathetic world, even though, as we

  have seen, this aspect of the Platonic revival figured in nearly everything

 

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