Mostpeopleinthisworldseemtolive“incharacter“；theyhaveabeginning，amiddleandanend，andthethreearecongruousonewithanotherandtruetotherulesoftheirtype。Youcanspeakofthemasbeingofthissortofpeopleorthat。Theyare，astheatricalpeoplesay，nomoreandnolessthan“characteractors。”Theyhaveaclass，theyhaveaplace，theyknowwhatisbecominginthemandwhatisduetothem，andtheirpropersizeoftombstonetellsatlasthowproperlytheyhaveplayedthepart。Butthereisalsoanotherkindoflifethatisnotsomuchlivingasamiscellaneoustastingoflife。Onegetshitbysomeunusualtransverseforce，oneisjerkedoutofone’sstratumandlivescrosswisefortherestofthetime，and，asitwere，inasuccessionofsamples。Thathasbeenmylot，andthatiswhathassetmeatlastwritingsomethinginthenatureofanovel。I
　　havegotanunusualseriesofimpressionsthatIwantveryurgentlytotell。Ihaveseenlifeatverydifferentlevels，andatalltheselevelsIhaveseenitwithasortofintimacyandingoodfaith。Ihavebeenanativeinmanysocialcountries。I
　　havebeentheunwelcomeguestofaworkingbaker，mycousin，whohassincediedintheChathaminfirmary；Ihaveeatenillegalsnacks——theunjustifiablegiftsoffootmen——inpantries，andbeendespisedformywantofstyleandsubsequentlymarriedanddivorcedbythedaughterofagasworksclerk；and——togotomyotherextreme——Iwasonce——oh，glitteringdays！——aniteminthehouse-partyofacountess。Shewas，Iadmit，acountesswithafinancialaspect，butstill，youknow，acountess。I’veseenthesepeopleatvariousangles。Atthedinner-tableI’vemetnotsimplythetitledbutthegreat。Ononeoccasion——itismybrightestmemory——Iupsetmychampagneoverthetrousersofthegreateststatesmanintheempire——HeavenforbidIshouldbesoinvidiousastonamehim！——inthewarmthofourmutualadmiration。
　　AndoncethoughitisthemostincidentalthinginmylifeI
　　murderedaman。
　　Yes，I’veseenacuriousvarietyofpeopleandwaysoflivingaltogether。Oddpeopletheyallaregreatandsmall，verymuchalikeatbottomandcuriouslydifferentontheirsurfaces。I
　　wishIhadrangedjustalittlefurtherbothupanddown，seeingIhaverangedsofar。Royaltymustbeworthknowingandverygreatfun。Butmycontactswithprinceshavebeenlimitedtoquitepublicoccasions，norattheotherendofthescalehaveI
　　hadwhatIshouldcallaninsideacquaintancewiththatdustybutattractiveclassofpeoplewhogoaboutonthehigh-roadsdrunkbutenfamillesoredeemingtheminorlapse，inthesummertime，withaperambulator，lavendertosell，sun-brownchildren，asmell，andambiguousbundlesthatfiretheimagination。Navvies，farm-labourers，sailormenandstokers，allsuchassitin1834
　　beer-houses，arebeyondmealso，andIsupposemustremainsonowforever。Myintercoursewiththeducalranktoohasbeennegligible；Ioncewentshootingwithaduke，andinanoutburstofwhatwasnodoubtsnobbishness，didmybesttogethiminthelegs。Butthatfailed。
　　I’msorryIhaven’tdonethewholelotthough。
　　YouwillaskbywhatmeritIachievedthisremarkablesocialrange，thisextensivecross-sectionoftheBritishsocialorganism。ItwastheAccidentofBirth。ItalwaysisinEngland。
　　Indeed，ifImaymaketheremarksocosmic，everythingis。Butthatisbytheway。Iwasmyuncle’snephew，andmyunclewasnolessapersonthanEdwardPonderevo，whosecomet-liketransitofthefinancialheavenshappened——itisnowtenyearsago！DoyourememberthedaysofPonderevo，thegreatdays，Imean，ofPonderevo？Perhapsyouhadatrifleinsomeworld-shakingenterprise！Thenyouknowhimonlytoowell。AstraddleonTono-Bungay，heflashedathwarttheemptyheavens——likeacomet——rather，likeastupendousrocket！——andoverawedinvestorsspokeofhisstar。Athiszenithheburstintoacloudofthemostmagnificentpromotions。Whatatimethatwas！TheNapoleonofdomesticconveniences！
　　Iwashisnephew，hispeculiarandintimatenephew。Iwashangingontohiscoat-tailsallthewaythrough。Imadepillswithhiminthechemist’sshopatWimblehurstbeforehebegan。Iwas，youmightsay，thestickofhisrocket；andafterourtremendoussoar，afterhehadplayedwithmillions，agoldenraininthesky，aftermybird’s-eyeviewofthemodernworld，Ifellagain，alittlescarredandblisteredperhaps，twoandtwentyyearsolder，withmyyouthgone，mymanhoodeateninupon，butgreatlyedified，intothisThames-sideyard，intothesewhiteheatsandhammerings，amidstthefinerealitesofsteel——tothinkitalloverinmyleisureandjotdownthenotesandinconsecutiveobservationsthatmakethisbook。Itwasmore，youknow，thanafigurativesoar。ThezenithofthatcareerwassurelyourflightacrossthechannelintheLordRobertsB。
　　Iwarnyouthisbookisgoingtobesomethingofanagglomeration。Iwanttotracemysocialtrajectoryandmyuncle’sasthemainlineofmystory，butasthisismyfirstnovelandalmostcertainlymylast，Iwanttogetin，too，allsortsofthingsthatstruckme，thingsthatamusedmeandimpressionsIgot——evenalthoughtheydon’tministerdirectlytomynarrativeatall。Iwanttosetoutmyownqueerloveexperiencestoo，suchastheyare，fortheytroubledanddistressedandswayedmehugely，andtheystillseemtometocontainallsortsofirrationalanddebatableelementsthatI
　　shallbetheclearer-headedforgettingonpaper。AndpossiblyI
　　mayevenflowintodescriptionsofpeoplewhoarereallynomorethanpeopleseenintransit，justbecauseitamusesmetorecallwhattheysaidanddidtous，andmoreparticularlyhowtheybehavedinthebriefbutsplendidglareofTono-Bungayanditsstillmoreglaringoffspring。Itlitsomeofthemup，Icanassureyou！Indeed，Iwanttogetinallsortsofthings。Myideasofanovelallthrougharecomprehensiveratherthanaustere。
　　Tono-Bungaystillfiguresonthehoardings，itstandsinrowsineverychemist’sstoreroom，itstillassuagesthecoughsofageandbrightenstheelderlyeyeandloosenstheelderlytongue；butitssocialglory，itsfinancialillumination，havefadedfromtheworldforever。AndI，solescorchedsurvivorfromtheblaze，sitwritingofithereinanairthatisneverstillfortheclangandthunderofmachines，onatablelitteredwithworkingdrawings，andamidfragmentsofmodelsandnotesaboutvelocitiesandairandwaterpressuresandtrajectories——ofanaltogetherdifferentsortfromthatofTono-Bungay。
　　Iwritethatmuchandlookatit，andwonderwhether，afterall，thisisanyfairstatementofwhatIamattemptinginthisbook。
　　I’vegiven，Isee，animpressionthatIwanttomakesimplyahotch-potchofanecdotesandexperienceswithmyuncleswimminginthemiddleasthelargestlumpofvictual。I’llownthathere，withthepenalreadystarted，IrealisewhatafermentingmassofthingslearntandemotionsexperiencedandtheoriesformedI’vegottodealwith，andhow，inasense，hopelessmybookmustbefromtheveryoutset。IsupposewhatI’mreallytryingtorenderisnothingmorenorlessthanLife——asonemanhasfoundit。Iwanttotell——MYSELF，andmyimpressionsofthethingasawhole，tosaythingsIhavecometofeelintenselyofthelaws，traditions，usages，andideaswecallsociety，andhowwepoorindividualsgetdrivenandluredandstrandedamongthesewindy，perplexingshoalsandchannels。I’vegot，Isuppose，toatimeoflifewhenthingsbegintotakeonshapesthathaveanairofreality，andbecomenolongermaterialfordreaming，butinterestinginthemselves。I’vereachedthecriticising，novel-writingage，andhereIamwritingmine——myonenovel——withouthavinganyofthedisciplinetorefrainandomitthatIsupposetheregularnovel-writeracquires。
　　I’vereadanaverageshareofnovelsandmadesomestartsbeforethisbeginning，andI’vefoundtherestraintsandrulesoftheartasImadethemoutimpossibleforme。Iliketowrite，I
　　amkeenlyinterestedinwriting，butitisnotmytechnique。
　　I’manengineerwithapatentortwoandasetofideas；mostofwhateverartistthereisinmehasbeengiventoturbinemachinesandboatbuildingandtheproblemofflying，anddowhatIwillI
　　failtoseehowIcanbeotherthanalax，undisciplinedstory-teller。Imustsprawlandflounder，commentandtheorise，ifIamtogetthethingoutIhaveinmind。Anditisn’taconstructedtaleIhavetotell，butunmanageablerealities。Mylove-story——andifonlyIcankeepupthespiritoftruth-tellingallthroughasstronglyasIhavenow，youshallhaveitall——fallsintonosortofneatschemeoftelling。Itinvolvesthreeseparatefemininepersons。It’sallmixedupwiththeotherthings。
　　ButI’vesaidenough，Ihope，toexcusemyselfforthemethodorwantofmethodinwhatfollows，andIthinkIhadbettertellwithoutfurtherdelayofmyboyhoodandmyearlyimpressionsintheshadowofBladesoverHouse。
　　TherecameatimewhenIrealisedthatBladesoverHousewasnotallitseemed，butwhenIwasalittleboyItooktheplacewiththeentirestfaithasacompleteauthenticmicrocosm。I
　　believedthattheBladesoversystemwasalittleworking-model——andnotsoverylittleeither——ofthewholeworld。
　　Letmetryandgiveyoutheeffectofit。
　　BladesoverliesupontheKentishDowns，eightmilesperhapsfromAshborough；anditsoldpavilion，alittlewoodenparodyofthetempleofVestaatTibur，uponthehillcrestbehindthehouse，commandsintheoryatleastaviewofeithersea，oftheChannelsouthwardandtheThamestothenortheast。TheparkisthesecondlargestinKent，finelywoodedwithwell-placedbeeches，manyelmsandsomesweetchestnuts，aboundinginlittlevalleysandhollowsofbracken，withspringsandastreamandthreefinepondsandmultitudesoffallowdeer。Thehousewasbuiltintheeighteenthcentury，itisofpaleredbrickinthestyleofaFrenchchateau，andsaveforonepassamongthecrestswhichopenstobluedistances，tominute，remote，oast-setfarm-housesandcopsesandwheatfieldsandtheoccasionalgleamofwater，itshundredandseventeenwindowslookonnothingbutitsownwideandhandsometerritories。Asemi-circularscreenofgreatbeechesmasksthechurchandvillage，whichclusterpicturesquelyaboutthehighroadalongtheskirtsofthegreatpark。
　　Northward，attheremotestcornerofthatenclosure，isaseconddependentvillage，Ropedean，lessfortunateinitsgreaterdistanceandalsoonaccountofarector。Thisdivinewasindeedrich，buthewasvindictivelyeconomicalbecauseofsomeshrinkageofhistithes；andbyreasonofhisuseofthewordEucharistfortheLord’sSupperhehadbecomealtogetherestrangedfromthegreatladiesofBladesover。SothatRopedeanwasintheshadowsthroughallthatyouthfultime。
　　Nowtheunavoidablesuggestionofthatwideparkandthatfairlargehouse，dominatingchurch，villageandthecountryside，wasthattheyrepresentedthethingthatmatteredsupremelyintheworld，andthatallotherthingshadsignificanceonlyinrelationtothem。TheyrepresentedtheGentry，theQuality，byandthroughandforwhomtherestoftheworld，thefarmingfolkandthelabouringfolk，thetrades-peopleofAshborough，andtheupperservantsandthelowerservantsandtheservantsoftheestate，breathedandlivedandwerepermitted。AndtheQualitydiditsoquietlyandthoroughly，thegreathousemingledsosolidlyandeffectuallyearthandsky，thecontrastofitsspacioushallandsaloonandgalleries，itsairyhousekeeper’sroomandwarrenofofficeswiththemeagredignitiesofthevicar，andthepinchedandstuffyroomsofeventhepost-officepeopleandthegrocer，soenforcedthesesuggestions，thatitwasonlywhenIwasaboyofthirteenorfourteenandsomequeerinheritedstrainofscepticismhadsetmedoubtingwhetherMr。
　　Bartlett，thevicar，didreallyknowwithcertaintyallaboutGod，thatasafurtheranddeeperstepindoubtingIbegantoquestionthefinalrightnessofthegentlefolks，theirprimarynecessityintheschemeofthings。Butoncethatscepticismhadawakenedittookmefastandfar。ByfourteenIhadachievedterribleblasphemiesandsacrilege；Ihadresolvedtomarryaviscount’sdaughter，andIhadblackedthelefteye——Ithinkitwastheleft——ofherhalf-brother，inopenanddeclaredrebellion。
　　Butofthatinitsplace。