{1}
When I was living in the country, the pure sky and the landscape
formed a large portion of my existence, so large that much of myself
depended on it, and I wondered how men could be worth anything if
they could never see the face of nature. For this belief my early
training on the "Lyrical Ballads" is answerable. When I came to
London the same creed survived, and I was for ever thirsting for
intercourse with my ancient friend. Hope, faith, and God seemed
impossible amidst the smoke of the streets. It was now very
difficult for me, except at rare opportunities, to leave London, and
it was necessary for me, therefore, to understand that all that was
essential for me was obtainable there, even though I should never see
anything more than was to be seen in journeying through the High
Street, Camden Town, Tottenham Court Road, the Seven Dials, and
Whitehall. I should have been guilty of a simple surrender to
despair if I had not forced myself to make this discovery. I cannot
help saying, with all my love for the literature of my own day, that
it has an evil side to it which none know except the millions of
sensitive persons who are condemned to exist in great towns. It
might be imagined from much of this literature that true humanity and
a belief in God are the offspring of the hills or the ocean; and by
implication, if not expressly, the vast multitudes who hardly ever
see the hills or the ocean must be without a religion.
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